A Short Trip In Public

A Short Trip In Public

By The Qmoq (c) 2010

Codes: MF/f, F/f, exhibitionism, watersports, D/s, S/M, bondage, real, consensual, humiliation, light

Synopsis: Pamela, a young submissive woman, publicly obeys her switch mistress (Alice) and Alice’s dominant fiancée Jim.

The situation was a little complicated, but interesting, at least. Jim and Alice were engaged, and firmly devoted to each other. Jim would beat Alice on the rear with a strap every so often, and frequently chained her to the bed, blindfolded her and screwed her. Despite this, he treated her as a lady. She enjoyed being submissive but hated being humiliated. Yet she had a craving herself. She called herself a double-ended painslut, a firm switch.

That was where Pamela came in. Alice owned her, and although Jim moderately enjoyed humiliating Pamela, sexually he was faithful to Alice. That did not stop him waking her up on the morning of their day trip by urinating into her face. Pamela showered in cold water, ate her breakfast muffin from the floor of the kitchen whilst Alice hit her naked rear with a riding crop. It was a normal day so far.

Pamela dressed in a short black cotton skirt, bare legs with functional heels, a supporting half-cup bra covered by a crisp white cotton blouse. Alice and Jim dressed normally for the weather, for it was a cold, rainy November morning.

Alice slipped a pair of Velcro wristbands on Pamela. This enabled Pamela to suffer a safe form of public bondage. When Alice ordered her to put her wrists together behind her back, Pamela was compelled to keep her wrists together. However, if there was any need for an urgent return to normality, she could quickly unbind herself. One firm order was any underage interest was to be avoided. At the bus stop, for instance, Pamela said “no” to an order to kiss Alice’s feet, because she had seen a pram being pushed towards them. Alice thanked Pamela for this, and said that she would get a reward later, promising that it would involve four fingers and possibly a thumb.

Fortunately, the schools were in session, and it was too cold for pre-school kids to be out with their mothers, so they knew they would not encounter many children. The bus was a third full, and adult only. They sat near the front of the bus on a backwards-facing double seat. Jim and Alice actually sat on the seat, Alice on Jim's right, Jim nearer the aisle. Pamela sat on their knees. She already felt terribly embarrassed - everyone was looking at her. Alice whispered to Pamela to keep smiling and look upwards at the ceiling. "When they realise you're not going to look at them accusingly, they can enjoy the show," she explained.

Pamela gulped.

Alice pinched Pamela's left side; a coy tickle which made Pamela jump, and giggle. She felt her nipples harden. She clamped her knees tightly together, but knew that this was something which would change - why else would she have been allowed to wear underwear? Bright red underwear, in fact, was the only spot of colour in her whole outfit.

"Keep your hands behind your back."

"Yes, Alice."

"Everyone is looking at you, you know that?" said Jim. "Would you like to show them your underwear?"

"No, Jim. It'd be embarrassing."

"We would like to show them your underwear."

"Oh god," cried Pamela, biting her lip. Her eyes were transfixed on a grease spot in the ceiling. She felt Jim's hand on her left knee, followed quickly by Alice's hand on her right. Gently, they prised her knees apart. Pamela felt the moisture in her crotch become exposed to the air. Her skirt had ridden up halfway her thigh, and she knew that her panties would be clearly visible.

"You're panting," said Alice. "You must be exhausted. I think you need a drink."

"Oh god."

Pamela knew the drink would not be just a drink, but kept her hands behind her back. Her knees were about a foot and a half apart now, and the hem of her skirt was now so high it looked as though she was not wearing a skirt at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a van pull up alongside the bus and heard cheers from its occupants as they looked in. Beside her, she felt Alice put something to her lips. For a brief, terrified moment, Pamela thought it was a dildo, but realised it was a large water bottle.

"Drink."

Alice held it in position, and Pamela gulped. It was a two-litre bottle. Pamela realised very quickly that she would not be able to indicate to Alice that she wanted to stop drinking, for she did not think this was a valid reason to move her wrists from behind her back. She had to keep swallowing. She drank a full pint - about a quarter of the bottle - before it got too much. She pushed the neck of the bottle away from her mouth with her tongue.

Alice seemed prepared for this and simply let the bottle drain steadily onto Pamela's chest. She didn't pour too much on there - about a third of a pint or so, but the effect was pronounced. Pamela's blouse became almost transparent and the pale pink colour of her breastbone could be seen through the material.

"Oh dear," said Jim. "For that, you lose a button."

He produced a pair of nail scissors from his pocket and snipped the thread of the bottom button of Pamela's blouse. It meant nothing here; she was covered up completely aside from the cotton’s transparency, but she knew that she would likely lose more buttons over the course of the morning. She mentally counted them; she had about nine buttons left. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and realised that in doing so, she was thrusting out her chest to all of her audience.

Alice motioned for Pamela to move to an unoccupied corner of the bus, where a disabled passenger could park a wheelchair. "Stand over there with your hands on your head, and think about what you have done." Alice paused. "Smile if you feel aroused, though."

Once she was in position, Alice took out a snazzy digital camera and took a few pictures, which encouraged a few other passengers to take out their cellphones and take their own memento of the journey. Pamela showed her teeth. Part of her loved the attention. The rest of her felt flushed and alive at being on display solely due to Alice's command. She hoped she was making Alice proud.

As town approached, other passengers started to get off the bus. Alice debated whether to tell Pamela to stand where they could grope her as they went past, but imagined that they would be too shy to do so, and chose not to give them the temptation. They may have thought that it was some sort of sexual harassment trap, she realised. Instead, she just told Pamela to say polite but submissive things to the passengers as they waited to alight.

"My name is Pamela and I love my mistress," seemed to get quite a reaction.

"My name is Pamela and I do anything my mistress says," was equally powerful, particularly in the honest stress Pamela used on the word 'anything'.

"My name is Pamela and I hope I haven't offended you," she said to a pair of elderly gentlemen. They replied that they hadn't had so much fun for years, and Pamela flashed them a warm smile. Alice overheard this and snipped a button from the bottom of Pamela's blouse for each of them. They thanked Alice, and one of them suggested that if he was forty years younger, he would have been biting hard on Pamela's left breast by now. Alice promised that she would bite it for them later, and all but Pamela laughed at the thought. Pamela added a nervous giggle.

When the threesome disembarked, they discovered that it was raining. Jim and Alice each had umbrellas. Pamela, her hands back behind her back, had nothing. The heavy rain quickly plastered her hair messily against her forehead, and her blouse was crumpled but definitely transparent. She did not feel too much cold, because the adrenaline was racing around her system. She wondered what was going to happen next.

"You've had a lot to drink, Pamela," said Jim.

"Yes, Jim."

"You must be bursting to pee, poor thing," said Alice. "Tell you what, you can pee here. Right now. Keep your hands behind your back, remain standing, legs apart two feet. Then pee."

Alice beamed at Pamela. Urinating in public was illegal, most likely, but in the heavy rain, only three people would know for certain. She wondered whether Pamela would work that out for herself.

Pamela's eyes darted around at passers-by. She felt all eyes on her; who would stay out in this rain when shelter was a dozen yards away? Some of the women sneered at her; most of the men gave her a second glance and a smile. A young Indian couple waited nearby, openly watching the strange, pretty woman in the inadequate clothing. She carefully placed her feet apart, looked at Alice, her eyebrows raised, pleading not to be told to do this. Anything but this. Alice twirled her hand as if to say 'whenever you are ready'.

It began with a trickle; then it was unstoppable. The pee gushed out of Pamela, was diverted by her tight panties; it then flooded down her legs. She forced herself to imagine herself not peeing in so obviously; then her mind made her think of everyone watching her; everyone judging her; everyone thinking she was a dirty girl. It did not help that Alice crouched next to her, and took upskirt photographs, capturing the moment for posterity.

"Oh my god," said Pamela, as the trickle slowed.

"What?"

"I… I need to touch myself. I feel as though I'm going to burst. I am so aroused." She fidgeted and shook when the cold clothes finally affected her.

"It's probably the underwear you're wearing. Take it off. You can use your hands and I don't want you to expose yourself to the public, so be as ladylike as possible."

"What?" asked Pamela, aghast. She expected a respite.

"Should I ask you a second time, only louder so more people can hear? Very well, PAMELA, TAKE OFF YOUR…"

"Shh! I will. Oh my god."

"Don't worry. We'll take photographs," interrupted Jim, snapping a cute picture of Pamela blushing.

Pamela thought for a moment, then reached inside her waistband at the side, to push the underwear down an inch or two, until it was in position where she could shake and hope they would drop. They didn’t. The panties were so damp with rain that they were clinging to her thigh. “The hell with it,” she thought, and reached an arm up her skirt and dragged the underwear down her legs. She wrung some moisture from it, folded it, and offered it to Alice.

"Good girl,” said Alice, putting the underwear in her handbag. “And I think we'll take two more buttons from you for your stalling tactics. I had to shout because of you."

"Yes, Alice. Sorry, Alice."

She snipped the buttons off the blouse, then dropped them onto the pavement.

"Oops, I dropped the buttons. Pick them up. You can use your hands but I want to see you on all fours, as though you're looking for a contact lens."

Pamela felt beneath Alice as she got on her knees. She trusted Alice not to ask her to do something she would not be able to. She made sure that her bottom was up high in the air, so much so that she leaned forwards onto her elbows. Alice was sorely tempted to ask for Jim’s belt to thrash that tempting sight, but resigned herself to taking plenty of pictures.

After about two minutes on the ground, Pamela was told to stand. She passed the buttons to Alice, and was ordered to return her wrists behind her back.

"Where are we going now? Home?" asked Pamela.

"We’ve not even hit one store yet! Actually, since this is your first day out, I think we only need to go to one place," said Jim. "Here we are: 'Everything For Pets'. Guess what type of store this is. In we go."

He held the door open for Alice, who let it swing shut before Pamela, who had to push the door open with her chest.

"Let's go to the counter, first," said Jim. “I just want to check we’re okay here.” He approached a youngish female assistant. "Excuse me, could I ask you something? You know these dog collars… how often do you get someone coming in and trying it on themselves?"

"More often than you'd think," replied the assistant. "Usually it's a goth bloke wanting a studded thing, y'know. Why'd you ask?"

"Well," said Jim, "she's not a goth, but that gal over there needs a collar."

The assistant's eyes widened. Jim guessed correctly that there was a little lust in her eyes. "My goodness, isn't she adorable? Tell me; please tell me that she enjoys being treated like an animal."

"She kinda gets a kick out of it," said Jim, wanting to be honest but not wanting to reveal too much.

"Can I… can I treat her like I would a dog?" she asked. "I won't be rude, honest. My name's Wendy."

"Sure." Jim took her over to where Alice and Pamela were standing, near the array of leashes. "Alice, this is Wendy. She's going to help us choose a leash for Pamela."

"She… she is?" asked Alice, a little surprised. A quick examination of Wendy's smile reassured her. "Of course. We need help with our Pamela. Tell me, is it better if we put the collar on when Pamela's on all fours? Better to be safe than sorry. On all fours, Pamela."

Pamela dropped to her knees, then pulled her wrists from behind her back and placed them on the floor. She was staring fixedly at a bag of dogfood in front of her. She felt a jolted drop of cuntjuice trickle down her leg. She listened to the humans standing beside her.

"A choker leash is a bit too strong for an animal like this," Wendy giggled. "You might want to try this one, though. It's not too thick, but it is very solid. She won't get away from you with a leash like this."

Alice crouched down next to Pamela and slipped the collar onto her. Once on, she could squeeze two fingers inside it, but no more. "It's good. It's a little snug but that won't hurt anyone, will it? It'll remind her that it's on, after all."

She stood, and gave it a tug. Pamela meekly began to crawl behind her. Wendy squealed at the sight. "How adorable!"

Jim interrupted. "Can we have a tag for the collar?"

"Sure. What was its name - 'Pamela'?"

"I think we need to use our nickname on the tag, if possible," he smiled, and wrote down a word on a piece of paper. Wendy gasped, smiled, and turned to the tag-engraving machine.

Three minutes later, Pamela walked out of the shop wearing a collar with the shiny golden nametag which read "CUNT".

After some practice dragging Pamela down the now-sunny sidestreets, Alice declared that she was happy with the leash, and suggested that Pamela wear it as much as she could. Jim said he was peckish, so led the women into a large double-storey McDonald's. He ordered full meals for him and Alice, and a strawberry milkshake for Pamela. Jim carried the tray, but Pamela held three straws in her mouth and took the lead going upstairs. Her wrists were instructed to be even further up her back than before, and she could not help but expose some of her belly when a draught of air-conditioning wafted her blouse to one side. The lack of buttons was becoming a real issue. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, she still maintained a genuine, beautiful smile, which she flashed towards anyone who made eye contact with her.

They found a booth near the window, about five clear tables from the nearest passer-by. Jim and Alice sat down; Alice motioned for Pamela to crouch so she could take the straws. Pamela did so, facing the window, knowing that she was giving a fine show to those who were watching. She was fairly supple, so maintaining the pose on her haunches was relatively easy. Trying to keep her balance with her wrists up her back, and with a dizzying amount of arousal running around her head, was much trickier.

Alice took Pamela's milkshake, took the lid from it, and poured some onto the table. "Stand up, Cunt. Drink your milkshake. Keep your wrists behind your back and you can't bend your knees."

"Yes, Alice. Thank you, Alice and Jim, for this meal."

After a brief moment to digest the instruction, Pamela bent forwards from the waist and lapped at the milkshake on the table. She arched her back, hoping it would please Alice. She knew it would be more attractive than an ungainly curvature forwards. It meant that her breasts, now barely encased in her blouse, pressed onto the sticky table. Her nametag tinkled happily as she lapped up the milkshake like a cat.

"Good. Remember earlier, when I said I’d reward you for being alert? Well, sit down and put two fingers of each hand up your cunt."

"Yes, Alice." It was not a tough request; Pamela was gushing, and it was fairly easy to keep hidden in the booth. The fingers went in and she gasped at how quickly she had complied. Two fingers of each hand were in her pussy, in McDonald’s. She was stunned.

"I need to go to the little girls' room," Alice declared. Jim told her to wait, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. Alice turned to Pamela. "Hey, Pammie,” she whispered. She always called her ‘Pammie’ when she was submissive. “This is sandpaper. I'm sure you’ll be happy to know that I’ve got to rub my pussy and both my nipples with this, until they are red and raw. Sure, I do it in a cubicle, but it'll still hurt like hell. Pammie, don't ever let it be said that I'm the evil one here… it’s Jimbo there who is really evil."

Once she had tottered away to the toilet, Jim turned to Pamela. He took a fry from his meal

"You've lived with us for three months now, Pamela."

"Three months, two days and if it's 11.30 now, about six hours. I remember she got me there early on my first day so she could whip me before she left for work."

"Tell me how much you love my Alice."

"She's… she's like a fallible goddess to me. I'm not saying that I obey her without question - I may as well be a robot for that to happen. No, like the 'no children' thing today, where I have to make up my mind - I weigh up whether I should do what she asks, and I always find that I want to do it. I always want to please her. What I mean is, I think it's a stronger concept to obey someone with question, rather than obey them without question. Oh god, my pussy is so damp just thinking about it. Four fingers are in my cunt right now, and she’s not even at the table. So what about you? What do you think of it all?"

"What do I think of what? The fact that my wife-to-be has shacked us up with a nubile young lesbian? Well it makes for an interesting breakfast; watching her strap-on-fuck you hard over the toast and jams. But if you think I'm jealous, no. If you were a six-foot bloke called Bruce, then I would be concerned. But my wife is monogamous to me on the hetero side, and to you on the old other side. The two sides of her are separate. As for the whole 'master-submissive' thing, well, that's slightly different. You know I'm a sadist. I'm not much into humiliating girls, but I quite like it in moderate doses, so when I can help like today, I enjoy being there to disgrace you. Besides, you seem happy with the arrangement. I don't get the impression that you want her for yourself."

"I know; I'm surprised myself. I love it. I love that she gets beaten; it shows that she knows what pain she's inflicting on me. I’d hate it if there was another woman beating her, too, so you being you is really kinda perfect." She wrinkled her nose. "You wouldn't happen to want to tell me what sort of pain she's going to get tonight, would you?"

"Sure. You know why I'm going to tell you?"

"My dazzling smile?" Pamela replied, matching her words with a dazzling smile.

"Nope. It's because I know that once you know that I'm going to wrap some fishing line around the base of her tits, and loop it around a hook above her head so she has to stay on tip-toe…"

"Oh god…" oozed Pamela.

"… then I’ll put some thumbtacks on the floor so wherever she steps, she steps onto pain…"

"Please, I am not allowed to… she hasn't given me permission to c-cu"

"… and then I birch her backside until it is scarlet and bruised, and birch her legs just enough that she tries to get away and steps on the tacks… once you know that that's what I'm going to do, you'll want to have one of those orgasm thingies right away. And you're not allowed to. That's why I told you."

"Oh god." Pamela rocked back and forth, envisioning Alice in that scenario; then putting herself in Alice's place, and Alice in Jim's place. She felt her pussy clamp on her fingers.

"I said I like humiliation in small doses."

"Oh god." She spasmed again; she had no control other than an overriding urge not to come.

"I like to see any pretty girl squirming like you are. Even more so when I know that your tongue is going to be in my fiancée’s asshole when I've finished with her."

"You… you bastard."

"Oops. Here comes Alice. Hey hon," he rose to kiss her. For the second time, Jim gave Alice a firm hug in which her chest pressed hard against his. Pamela realised that Alice must be wearing a pin-bra; it would explain why Alice wore two layers of dark clothes, and also established what role Jim had today. His role was to monitor Alice, follow her lead where Pamela was concerned, but he also wanted to inflict some pain upon his fiancée whenever he could. Pamela wondered how hard Jim would thrash Alice tonight. She felt a guilty pleasure whenever she heard Alice in pain, if only because it usually meant that Alice would dream up something vicious herself for Pamela. For instance, the morning after Jim had Alice first wear her pin bra, Alice had Pamela chained tightly to a tree in the nearby woods for well over two hours, and tortured her with spindly branches and fierce strap-on fucking.

Alice was holding two small polystyrene cups. She placed them before Pamela.

"There's the rest of your lunch. Since just before we left this morning, I've had a banana up my cunt, and I've got to tell you, it was all gooey and sticky because watching you act like a slut really gets me going. That's in the left cup. I've also provided you with a nice warm drink too, in the right cup. Well, enjoy your meal."

Pamela leaned forwards to pick up the cup with her mouth; two fingers of each hand were still knuckle-deep in her pussy, so she struggled a little and almost spilled it.

"Here, messy Cunt. I'll feed you."

Alice sat beside Pamela. She took a spoon, dipped it into the left cup, and made an aeroplane noise. "Here it comes! Open wide, woo!" she said loudly, and the few remaining patrons who were not already staring at Pamela glanced over. None of them would guess what was special about the banana, but all of them eyed the pretty girl with either lust, curiosity or disgust. Those who lusted after her were pleased when she left her mouth open (after Alice's quiet instruction to do so), and Pamela knew that they would be imagining sticking their cocks deep into her throat (because Alice told her it was so). Alice held the cup of pee to Pamela's lips, and Pamela drank enthusiastically. It was warm and sugary and Alice's. Pamela adored it.

Once Pamela's banana had been consumed, Jim and Alice continued their meals. They had lavished ketchup and HP Sauce upon their burgers and fries, and after a short time, both had rather messy fingers.

"Oh no," said Alice in the manner of a bad actor in a detergent commercial. "I have no napkins to wipe my hands with."

"If only there was a piece of cloth we could use," said Jim, equally hammily.

Alice leaned over the table and wiped her hands on the left side of Pamela's blouse; Jim left his stains on Pamela's right. Pamela smiled politely and said she was glad their fingers were clean. She added that her own fingers were getting a little chapped, what with being in her dirty pussy for so long, and Alice agreed, so told Pamela to remove her fingers and instead just use her thumb to gently brush against her clitoris. Nothing painful, nothing that would cause chafing, just soft strokes; light enough to feel the rings on her thumbprint. Alice then squirted some ketchup directly onto her fingers, and spread it onto Pamela's blouse, right on the breast. She commented moderately loudly that Pamela's nipples were very pronounced.

"I've got that build-up again. So much pressure down there. God. I need to…" Pamela knew it was useless to ask for an orgasm; she tended to only get them as part of some overload torture. However, another instinct came to her. "I need to pee."

"But we're indoors," said Alice flatly. "And today you only pee outdoors, don't you?"

"Yes, Alice."

"Why is that?" asked Jim.

"Because I'm dirty. I'm so very dirty," replied Pamela. "God, you guys. Today… today is the ultimate. I don't know how you could top this. I don't think my cuntish brain could cope with it."

"Today? Today was just a beginning. Ask yourself these questions, Pamela dearest: aside from your fingers, have you had anything up your pussy? How about a large butt plug up that cute little asshole of yours? No. You're fully dressed still, aren't you? You're not in a school uniform or a skimpy latex suit; you're not dressed like a trollop, with fishnets and a micro-skirt, are you? And we've not taken you into a bar to get you to ask strangers to let you pee, have we? How about we do that now? No? You're shaking your head. How about this: have we asked you to go into a sex shop and try on some of the merchandise? Did we get you to try on a clit clamp in full view of everyone? We know that some patrons in there would be more likely to fingerfuck you or slap your bottom, wouldn't they? What about more public things: we didn't ask you to hold up a sign saying "Free Hugs" or "Please Spit On Me", did we? And those cuffs aren't metal, are they? No. Another 'no' answer. So, answer me this, Pamela; given all those 'no' answers to what we could have done with you today, could we top today?"

"Yes, Alice, you could top this," Pamela gulped.

"Good. Well it's time we headed home, I think," Alice said, with a nod to Jim, who was getting antsy. As much as the threesome could sense the lust from other patrons towards Pamela, it was nothing compared to the passion Jim and for Alice, and Alice for Jim.

Their first destination after leaving McDonald's was a quiet alleyway, in which Alice had Pamela on all fours, then had her cock her leg to one side to pee against the wall while Jim kept watch. Once refreshed, Alice ordered Pamela to stand, wipe the stray pee from her legs and rub it on her already filthy blouse, while Alice spat pointedly into Pamela's face. She was within a whisker of asking Pamela to lick her pussy right there and then, but Jim said that a few people were approaching, so they cut their losses and headed back to the main streets.

“Let’s get a cab home. Come, Cunt.”

Alice had grown more confident of using the leash. She felt responsible; she could answer for her actions, if confronted by authority. All day, Jim had kept an eye on Alice, and was pleased that she was taking such good care of Pamela. For the most part, Pamela ensured that the leash was never taut. A part of her wanted to be dragged; a strong part of her wanted to be led naked on a chain clamped to her labia, but she knew the situation. Right now, and upon reflection later, it was enough of a thrill being on a leash while wearing a nametag with “Cunt” written on it.

Besides, she only had three buttons left.

The bus had taken nearly half an hour; the cab would only take fifteen minutes or so. As they got in the cab, a large Hackney-style cab with a wide back seat and two drop-down seats which faced the other way, Pamela saw that Jim offered the cab driver some extra cash. Reluctantly, the cab driver took it. She hoped and feared that Jim would get his money’s worth, but knew that nothing too obscene could happen in the cab, because of its clear windows.

Pamela sat on the back seat; Alice beside her. Jim faced them. Alice began the activity by wrapping the leash a second time around Pamela’s neck, before tugging tightly on it.

“Remove that bra without showing your tits, Cunt.”

“Y-yes, Alice.”

“Do it fast. I won’t let you breathe until you do.”

Pamela grunted, the limited oxygen making her panic. Her hands reached up her back and scrabbled to unhook the clasp on the bra. She managed it at the third attempt, before reaching down from the front to whip it out of her blouse. She folded it; then offered it with both hands to Alice. The cruel mistress released her grip a little, but Pamela did not yet have a clear airway.

“Good girl,” she said, then clamped a firm hand on her breast. “Now I can get a good grip on you, can’t I?”

“Holy smokes,” said the cab driver. “Do you mind if I take a longer route? Won’t cost you a penny.”

“No problem,” said Jim. He nodded to Alice, who wrestled Pamela off her seat, onto her knees. In the large cab area, Jim had enough room to use the scissors to cut vertically from the bottom of the back of Pamela’s skirt, up to the waistband. This would give them freer access to her rear, and also made her feel closer to the naked slavegirl she craved to be.

What she did not anticipate was the mousemat studded with drawing pins, which Alice placed carefully on the seat. Pamela moved back to it, and was ordered to hold the flaps of her skirt apart before she sat upon it.

“Oo, oh my... god,” she panted. The pain was almost unbearable. Almost nothing that day had been about pain, and she had forgotten how much she adored it. “I’m a cunt. I’m a cunt,” she cried, hoping it was what Alice wanted to hear.

Alice sat next to Jim, both facing Pamela. She leaned forwards and took hold of the leash.

“Twist those nipples. No, not from the outside: reach into your blouse and get them. One in each hand, if you please.”

Jim whispered to Alice that he was going to beat her so hard tonight she would not be able to sit down for a week, and Alice beamed. She pulled forwards on the leash; Pamela had to lean forwards out of her seat, and then lost her balance and fell backwards onto the thumbtacks. She almost bit her tongue clean through to stop herself from screaming.

Alice took the dirty panties from her bag and shoved them in Pamela’s mouth. With the taste of dried piss and cuntjuice in her mouth, Pamela lolled, aroused more than at any point that day. She had never felt more alive.

“Guys,” said the cab driver, “sorry to do this, but you’re nearly home.”

“That’s okay,” said Jim. “All good things.”

“I sure hope that girl likes that pain thing.”

“I do,” replied Pamela, exiting the cab; ecstatic and glowing. “I love to be treated like this.”

It was the first time since the bus that she had to explain herself, and it felt good admitting it to a stranger. She had enjoyed every moment. She knew that once she entered the house, she would be naked, slapped, fingered, pissed on and ordered to lick almost every part of Alice, but the public humiliation she had received today would live in her memory for the rest of her life.

The End