"There was an assault, yes," said one, nonchalantly plucking at the dress on Belinda’s shoulder as she slowly walked around. "A sexual assault," said another, lightly pulling at the belt of her dress from the side as too walked slowly round and around. "A protracted sexual assault," said another from behind, casually brushing her fingers through the hair on the back of Belinda’s neck as she walked by. "Which means it went on for hours," as a light grasp pulled on her fingers on her left hand as she too walked around. "And again the next day," as a passing hand again mussed her hair and tweaked at her locks. "And well into the night," was breathed in her ear as finger-nails brushed lightly on the side of her neck. "And all night long"…. "A sleepy night long" …. "Sleeping in the night."…. "Soft sleep." … "Warm sleep." …. "Do you want to spend the night?" "Do you want to fall asleep with us?" "Do you want to fall asleep?" …. "Do you want to fall asleep?" …. asked the hypnotic whisper of circling voices…. as fingers brushed lightly on the side of her neck …. as fingernails lightly traced on the palm of her hand… as tender warm lips brushed soft on her ear.. as fingers stroked lightly across the globes of her ass. The girls had been walking around and around, touching her, stroking her. Belinda’s gaze followed them as they passed, her head sloshing back and forth.

The rush of adrenaline from Belinda’s panic about Caroline’s welfare was quickly subsiding, replaced by an insidiously rise of euphoric, intoxicating, light-headedness as she warmed to their seductive ministrations, when she suddenly realised she’d closed her eyes with her head tilted backwards and was emitting soft purrs of appreciation. She snapped out of the moment with a, "Hey, hey, hey," and twisted her body to remove herself from the confines of the small circle of three girls, a manoeuver which caused her to stagger and almost fall. She regained her balance and looked up at the girls who, now their bent-over fits of laughter had subsided, suddenly seemed to be much taller than her.

"That’s enough." Belinda squawked.

"But there was no need to call us off," cooed one of the girls.

"Relax and enjoy," purred another, as she shuffled back closer.

"We only want to please you," soothed another, as the girls reformed around her, and again proceeded to walk circles around.

"Your skin is so soft," as massaging fingers gently worked the nape of her neck.

"Your skin is so smooth," as finger brushed lightly on one of her cheeks.

The three girls were again walking slow rotations, pampering … stroking … whispering soothing words, grinning at each other as they watched Belinda’s head slump down on her chin and flop to one side as her eyelids fluttered and closed.

A pair of arms reached around her from behind and gave a light squeeze, as erotic lips nibbled the side of her neck. The pleasant sensation caused Belinda to turn her head and her eyes to ease open, and saw she was now in the company of five girls, with several hands now on her, massaging and stroking and tweaking her hair, and wandering all over her body.

"Please …. no more," whimpered Belinda, as the five girls crowded even closer, their bodies pushing in, enveloping her, encasing her. She was well and truly surrounded. She knew she should speak more firmly, more sternly, but her mouth was dry and her breathing now laboured and rasping. She felt she was burning as the circle of female bodies became a tight crush. She was fighting to breathe and it was impossible speak.

"Cat got your tongue, eh, you poor thing?" a soft voice cooed from behind, the breathy words blowing hot in her ear. From within the crush, a hand gently cupped her left breast, and a stiffened middle finger brushed back and forth over its erect nipple. The flat palm of another hand slowly slithered up the inside of her right leg. "What’s it gonna find when it gets there?" taunted the hot breathy words at her ear. "We saw you reading our book…. looking at the pictures…. touching yourself …. you like us young girls, don’t you? … and you like it when we touch you, huh? Tell me babe … tell me that you like this ….. tell me that you like this ….tell me that you like this."

"Yes," exhaled Belinda, barely audible, as she gulped for more air through a mouth which was too dry to speak.

"And do you also like this?" causing Belinda to sharply inhale with a flinch as the creeping flat hand reached its damp-panty target on cue, and gave a sharp, firm upward tweak.

"Yes," Belinda replied with a gasp as she fluttered her eyelids, blindsided by the unexpected jolt. She could not believe this was happening. It felt like twenty hands were touching and caressing her body all at once, and the side of one flat hand pressing a wedgie up at her crotch.

"You saw yourself in the picture in our book, didn’t you? Helpless and terrified, yet wanting the same. You want to be her, don’t you?" whispered the soft, haunting words sliding from lips caressing her ear. "And you read the words too, huh? …. ‘Fall into their hands, give yourself to them, let them have you.’ Is that what you want? Is that what you really want?"

Belinda answered with an exhaling sigh, weak and faint. She felt decidedly woozy. She was floating in a sea of female bodies pressing in, surrounding her, hemming her so tight she couldn’t move..

Different voices started speaking in turn, mesmeric, hypnotic, haunting, the phrases overlapping.

"Let yourself fall ……. Fall into their lap ….… Let them all take you …. You know that you want to …. Fall into their hands ….. You know that you want to …. But who would’ve guessed …. That you would turn up here ….. and not your fancy mansion …you’ve made it so easy ….. we know you live alone … we were going to come and get you…… but now you’ve turned up here …….you’ve made it all so easy …. just like your little Chrissie ….. our little Chrissie ….. our little sissy Chrissie ……. our pretty sissy Chrissie ….. she’s our Chrissie now … our slavish little Chrissie… we know about her blood …. your blood …. the same blood … that you’re a sissy too …. a pretty little sissy …. do you want to be our sissy?" ….. do you want to be our sissy? …. do you want to be our sissy?

"Yes .. Yes", answered Belinda with a weak and breathless double squeak. Her head was dizzy and spinning from all the verbal darts bombarding her thick and fast from a multitude of voices.

The circle of girls around her now numbered over a dozen, and growing larger by the minute as more filed in, some walking, some virtually running, anxious to get a good spot. They knew they had her now, and she was theirs for the taking. But that was not their way. They wanted to rub her nose in. They want her craven, with a need to be what she soon was to become.

Their continuing subterfuge became a forthright lone voice, advancing her fall into bondage.

"It was very brave of you to enter our den of vipers and sin. We are all evil here. Debauched and depraved, crude and controlling. Chrissie is no longer yours. She now belongs to us. Every square inch. Every molecule. Every thought in her head. Everything. It all belongs to us. You didn’t know before today, did you? But now you do. Do you still want to come and meet with us, the girls who own your daughter? We can make you our slave too. Our sex slave… A slave to our whims... Our hapless carnal fun. We could own you and shame you however we please. But there’ll be no turning back, and you’ll be our sex slave for ever. Would you still want to come to us? Knowing what you know, would you still want to come? Would you still want to come? Would you still want to come? Because come you have, and here you are."

"Yes", breathed Belinda through her dry mouth and lips. "I would still want to come, and here I am."

It was as if her words of admission were a cue, and the moment they were spoken, the crowding circle of young female bodies seemed to drift away as they all shuffled back, leaving Belinda swaying and unsteady after the smaller inner circle had removed their support. As she rocked on her heels, feeling faint, feeling she may faint, words reached her ears. Not a chant, but subtle, tumbling wave of suggestion from all quarters…. It seemed like a hundred voices were whispering as one, urging their demand. A continuous, hushed chatter effecting one long single sound. Mesmeric. Pervasive. A whispering breeze of guidance cascading word over top of word.

"Strip…. Strip …. Strip…. Strip."

It was a hypnotic, flowing stream of suggestion she couldn’t resist. She swayed as her fingers fiddled with her belt buckle until the ends fell away. She bent down, unsteady in her balance, as both hands grasped the hem of her dress. The hem rose, exposing her yellow frilly panties and then her matching bra as she hoisted the hem high above her head. Her arms appeared to dance inside the upturned dress as it floated on-high above her shoulders. With the garment now set free, she waved it around like a hoopla flag, before tossing it away onto the heads of the encircling throng. The action caused her to stagger backwards, as several arms reached out to prevent her imminent fall and steer her back to the centre.

A spontaneous round of applause erupted from the large circle of onlookers as her dress disappeared into the cluster of bodies, some now looking from the boxing ring where they had climbed in and gathered along one side.

"Orange juice, orange juice, orange juice…."

The bizarre and surreal chant was totally unexpected as it met Belinda’s ears. It was their carrion-call. Many clapped along until it became a jumble of noise, slowly morphing into what they had all come to see.

"Strip …strip …strip …" now prevailed.

Not a continual, whispering chatter of subliminal urge this time. It was a hand-clapping, foot-stomping drum of determined insistence. In Belinda’s increasingly compliant and befuddled state, the resolute drum-beat of solicitation was irresistible, and she couldn’t prevent her fingers sliding under her bra straps one at a time and slipping them from her shoulders. The tops of the breast cups fell away, and she swivelled the clasp to the front. She gently swayed as she stood with her chin on her chest, looking down at her fingers as they released the tiny hooks. Her right hand pulled the yellow frilly garment away from her body and held it aloft to cheers from the throng of excited faces. A random arm reached out from the jostling mass and took charge of the limp yellow garment, throwing it up and away over the sea of heads, causing another surge of cheers which drowned out the petering chanting.

But again it started, resuming the same insistent thumping drum-beat….

"Strip … strip … strip …."

Some of the girls in the front row were virtually drooling with anticipation now, with those further back jostling for a better view. They all knew this was Sissy Chrissy’s mom. She’d come here to complain, to oversee some kind of punishment, to seek some retribution. But their underhanded ways had caused her to place her own shoe on the other foot, and now here she was, standing in only a pair of shoes and panties, and about to strip herself naked right before their very eyes. The atmosphere of anticipation was electric, and many hearts were thumping and hot blood was pumping. Their evil plans were coming together and stage one was on the home run. This was the first exciting theatre since they’d taken care of that interloping, interfering Trish bitch a couple of weeks back. She’d interrupted their fun, but for several days her and her tender and swollen vagina and lash-streaked breasts and ass regretted ever going near their sacred turf. It was doubtful she’d ever gate-crash their activities again. But on the other hand, she was a B two, so anything was possible. But naïve stupidity was not an excuse to avoid despicable torment in this neck of the woods, and the word ‘mercy’ was not in their play-book.

"Hey, Trish … want some more orange juice?" …….…"Yes please!"

The chanting continued ………….

"Strip…. Strip …. Strip…. Strip."

//////////////////////////

The two male maintenance men stopped in their tracks, and almost as one, turned towards the windows. Stepping forwards, they stood side by side, grasping the horizontal safety-rail which ran the whole length of the observation windows.

"Fuckin’ ‘ell, they’ve got another one," said the tallest and oldest called Tom.

"Where the hell they get ‘em from, and how the friggin’ fuck do they get away with it?" asked Reece, not expecting and answer. "This must be the tenth this year."

"Who gives a monkeys? Just don’t get your cock out." replied Tom as he arched his back and leant his crossed fore-arms on the cross-rail to take some weight. Unspoken, he was settling in to watch. Reece remained stood upright still holding the rail. Even though he’d know Tom for years, there was no way he was going to stick his ass out while this degenerate spectacle was unfolding down below,

//////////////////////

Belinda was standing, swaying, unsteady on her feet, in just her yellow panties and a pair of flat leather shoes. Her blurred and intermittent vision surveyed the throng. The circle of girls must’ve been 6 or 7 deep, but who cares, she thought to herself. The chanting wasn’t words to her anymore. It was more like the footsteps of marching soldiers on gravel …. Chip …chip … chip….

Her eyelids were as heavy as lead, and she allowed them to close. I haven’t the strength, she conceded. I can’t fight this anymore. She stood in darkness and swayed.

She felt her shoulders being pinched in a vice-like grip by which were more like talons than fingers. She felt herself shake, or was she being shaken? She really didn’t care anymore.

Suddenly it felt like her nostrils were on fire, and her eyes flew open like saucers.

"That’s it. Come back to me, baby. We’s still a long ways to go."

The bottle of boxer’s smelling salts was immediately replaced in its’ allotted spot. All these girls were bullies and as heartless as they come, but they knew not to vex any boxers.

Belinda looked around. She seemed surprised to be encircled by a large group of girls.

"Oh, hello," she said at no-one in particular, as she raised her hand to half mast and gave the weakest of lame greeting waves.

The circle of girls giggled that unique, girly-group giggle, and were knowingly nudging each other with their elbows.

"Come on, sweetie, time for your shower," a voice behind her decreed.

"Oh, ok," answered Belinda, as meek as a lamb, and raised a foot to take a step forward.

"No, no, no," the lone unseen voice firmly corrected. "You have to get undressed first."

"Oh," exclaimed Belinda, enlightened to her unwitting mistake.

"Here will do. Come on, put your foot up here. We’d better start with your shoes."

Belinda looked down, and crouched down before her in a pin-tuck dive pose was a girl kneeling prone on the floor. One foot at a time, like it was the most natural thing in the world, this human footstool was used, and Belinda now stood in bare feet.

"We don’t want these to get wet in the shower, do we?" as her favourite and very expensive flat heals were waved under her nose, and Belinda vacantly and wordlessly shook her head ‘no’.

"Thought not," said the supervising voice, and with a lightening quick flick of an extended arm, both shoes flew off into the distance.

The still crouching foot-stool felt a light kick in her thigh, her cue to revert to being an observer.

"Nearly there, honeybuns," soothed the supervising voice. "We’ll just be a few moments longer."

As Belinda stood swaying with her arms at her sides and wearing only yellow lace panties, you could cut the silent tension with a knife.

"Belinda," the voice spoke up quite brusquely to grab her attention and signal a decree may be next.

"Mmmm?" Belinda acknowledged the signal and was attentive.

"Something concerns me greatly."

"Mmmm?" hummed Belinda in a rising tone translated as ‘what is it?’

"You appear to have something attached to the outside of your panties at the front. Like there’s a squashed grape stuck there or something. We can’t have contaminants in the shower, now, can we? Can you scratch it off for me?"

A collective lascivious intake of breath rippled through the onlooking throng.

"Mmmm," hummed Belinda, blindly accepting that this ludicrous and highly improbable situation was indeed worthy of urgent and appropriate correction.

"Come on, then, scratch it off quickly or else we may miss your turn in the shower."

Blinking and briefly glancing down, then staring straight ahead to maintain her balance, Belinda’s right hand moved the short journey from its dangle at her thigh to the front of her loins. Four fingers commenced scratching at the fabric which covered the slight bulge of her pubis.

"That’s not quite the right spot, honeykins. It’s just a bit lower."

Belinda ‘Mmm’ed’ acknowledgment she was slightly off target and dropped her labors roughly one inch.

"That’s about the right spot, but with four fingers, you’re casting too wide-a net. Reduce your work to one finger."

On hearing these instructions the onlooking crush all sounded to be afflicted with hyper-ventilation.

Belinda’s first finger commenced lightly scratching where her clitoris would be, but too softly for the desired effect.

"That’s great, now you’re getting it," encouraged the supervising voice, "but it seems much more ingrained than I very first thought. Use just your second finger and apply more pressure, and you’ll be scratching that sucker clean off."

Again Belinda adjusted her method of approach to the task, and started scratching quite hard with her second finger nail.

"Still not getting it. Scratching’s not working too well. I think rubbing it off would work far better. Second finger, press quite hard, and rub up and down quite quickly. Keep that up, and you’ll rub that dirty little hookey off in no time."

These words causing an all-round murmur of dirty sniggers of their own.

The instructions were spot on money. Belinda’s second finger nestled into the soft folds of her aroused sex through the fabric, sinking deeper as she commenced rubbing up and down with purpose.

"That’s it, honeybuns. Keep going like that and you’ll soon get it off."

The sneering laughter of the assembly became hoots of encouragement as Belinda warmed to her task. Her slowly see-sawing finger was working the thin wet yellow fabric deeper into her sex with every stroke. Her finger began moving faster as it seemed to disappear, the fabric lewdly folding around to envelope this welcome intruder. Within half a minute, her actions plateaued in a smooth, steady rhythm. The plump and swollen outer lips of her now fully engorged sex were clearly visible through the sopping wet yellow thin fabric. Her nostrils flared, and her moans became louder and more carnal. Faint tremors wracked her torso and her legs twitched a knee-buckling dance. The cat-calls from the crowd became vindictive. A barbed spur, urging her towards a grand-finale, where she would surely collapse in a sobbing mess of self-inflicted orgasmic humiliation. The supervisor allowed this vulgar performance to continue for several, long, adrenaline-pumping moments, then bam, abruptly called proceedings to a halt.

Belinda’s bright red flush had been steadily building, spreading to her neck and then her breasts as her actions had clearly morphed into blatant and urgent masturbation.

Belinda abruptly stopped at the call. She was panting and breathless, her continuing tremors patently showing signs of crazed frustration at having to abort her almost completed sweet mission.

The disappointed crowd vented a blanket of ‘aww’, accompanied by more than one angry ‘boo’.

"What the hell do think you’re doing? You’re making it worse," admonished the voice. "That damn grape stain is smeared all over the place now. Maybe we should get a professional cleaner to do the job, what d’ya say?"

"Mmmm," hummed Belinda in apparent agreement. She was way too spaced to make a judgement.

"All righty then," declared the decisive voice, having been given approval to change tactic. "Does anyone in this audience have cleaning skills proficient enough to attempt the task of removing this stubborn grape stain?"

Immediately a whole forest of arms shot vertical, accompanied by raucous clamours of me me me.

"It seems not a single person is willing to give it a try," shouted the voice to out-volume the ruckus as she slowly spun on her heal, The forest of arms responded to her tease with frantic thrashing as the cacophony of clamour rose to deafening proportions.

"You’re all freakin’ animals, you know that?" said the voice with a broad smile, amused to know she was not the only sick and twisted pervert in the room, and knowing her words at normal volume had almost certainly gone unheard amidst the din.

"All right, all right, all right," she then shouted, waving her arms as if flagging down an oncoming vehicle.

After what was almost a full minute, even the most ardent of enthusiastic volunteers fell silent.

"I want to play fair," her voice sincere. "Who in this audience was not party to the education and enlightenment of Trish Trash the other week? And don’t lie to me. Y’all know what happens to liars."

Several arms dotted around the crowd shot up, along with the inevitable ‘me, me,’ cat-calls.

"Ok… I’m gonna close my eyes and spin around a couple of times, and then point straight ahead, like a human spin the bottle. That sound fair?" which returned a vocal flurry of acceptance.

………..

The appointee elbowed and threaded her way through a small but tight maze of slightly resentful and very envious cronies and walked over to stand toe-to-toe with Belinda. The new participant in this one sided, underhanded joust was tall and slim. Not heavy duty muscular, but even in her college uniform it was quite apparent she was toned and fit. She was noticeably taller, perhaps four inches. Even if Belinda was fully lucid and they had a cat fight, not a dollar one would be wagered on Belinda to win. Somehow, this contest just didn’t seem fair.

"No rules," decreed the supervising voice, "except these four…. Start slow …. Don’t finish her off …. no rough stuff, ‘cos you know that comes later …. And damn well stop when I tell you."

The new girl gave a slight nod of deference to the terms of engagement, then methodically set about her task.

As Belinda gently swayed with her eyes tight shut, she had no real concept of what had just transpired.

The new girl stooped to whisper soothing words of reassurance. She’d seen this done before and wanted Belinda to suffer the same sweet agony. Her conquest would be frustratingly slow.

"You’ve still got that horrible blight on your panties. If the shower-cleaner lady sees it, we’ll all get in big trouble, so I’m here to help you get it off, ok? I’m going to stand behind you now to get a better sway, so don’t be startled by my touch."

True to her word, she shuffled around and up close so they were fully touching. With her buxom bosom pressing at Belinda’s back, she swung her left arm around, her hand cupping Belinda’s naked right breast, the arm then tensioning, drawing, holding the two bodies close in a firm, loving hug of support. This was going to be a sordid reach-around, and she didn’t want Belinda collapsing in defeat.

Positioning herself so her lips where touching Belinda’s earlobe as she spoke, the heartless seduction began.

"Your hair is so beautiful and smooth, and your shampoo smells divine, let me breathe it in,"

Her lips latched onto Belinda’s earlobe, inflicting a series of silent, sucking tugs, interspaced with long, slow, top to bottom licks of its protruding curve. Her tongue stiffened and extended and probed its small and shallow depths. Gentle teeth-clamp tugs on her earlobe followed, before more caresses and nibbles, then several more rounds of the same. She swapped her attention to the opposite ear, and as she commenced its erotic attention, the open palm of her free hand slowly slithered down from the bottom of Belinda’s breast, maintaining contact, slow, ever so slow, all the way down the smooth, exposed abdomen until the tips of her fingers felt the tickle-prickle of the frilly trim waistband of her panties. She’d watched on as Belinda had masturbated herself to the brink of orgasm, and knew what lay hidden under that thinnest of fabrics. To be taken to the edge, and then be held back ….. the blueprint for a wide open goal.

"Does that feel good, babe? I’m going to touch you now. Touch that nasty stain on your front. See if I can rub it away. If I’d had my way, I’d have taken my knife and slashed it and hacked it ‘till no-one would’ve known it had ever been there. I’ve done it before, you know… cut away something I thought shouldn’t be there. But that was a man. I got my big hunting knife and …... Well, it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. A big warm sloppy slit is much nicer. A nice, warm, sloppy hole to play in. He seemed so much nicer with his big new sloppy hole, so it was a shame he had to so quickly fade away …. I’d never use my hunting knife on you though. No need to slit anything on you. Somebody’s already given you a nice big juicy slit. May I feel it? May I feel your slit? It’s underneath that dirty stain. Sometimes those stains go away by themselves, so we could come back to that later. See if it’s gone away all by itself. It might, you know. We’ll give it a while longer to see if it has. We can check on your warm juicy slit while we’re waiting."

All the while she had been talking, her fingers had pressed into Belinda’s soft abdomen at the pantie waistband creating their own little bikini-bridge to sneak their way inside the tickly lace waistband. Then down, down those fingers crept, slow and insidious. They discovered a clean shaven mound around the time of the hunting knife, but that pleasant revelation didn’t distract them from their relentless wriggling journey to their slippery wet goal. They wanted to be the first to claim pussy violation of their latest drugged-up sissy, and they were hell-bent on securing their prize. They’ve been given first dibs at an aroused, wet puss, and were gonna make damn sure they found their way inside. Those fingers wanted to slide into that warm and wet love-box while it still felt all nice, tight and cosy. They knew what was coming, and about an hour from now, tight and cosy would not be the case.

"Oh… oh.." Belinda gave a double squeak as her torso gave two short sharp convulsions and her knees commenced a jigging jive dance. Prior notice of arrival had duly been given, but when unseen fingers had brushed against her aroused and tender love bud, it was as still a shock and surprise.

Too late for stopping, or offering defence, as those insidious fingers probed for a chink in Belinda’s weakened armour.

And as two devilish fingers hooked up and in, gaining full trespass into their warm and wet prize, the girl triumphantly declared victory with the hiss of a resounding "Yes", which was answered with riotous cheers from the leering and lecherous throng.

The onlookers were ecstatic their victim had been dragged through the first of many humiliating violations to come.

Belinda’s journey to enslavement was now well and truly underway.

…………..

"But why?" asked Chrissie as two of her classmates caused her to stand still as they deftly adjusted the fastenings of her ominously large and ribbed, bulbous strap-on.

"Retribution," said one of the girls. "They attacked you, and now it will be your chance to get back at one of them. She’s being stripped, lubed and tied as we speak. Don’t you want to do to her what she did to you?"

"Yes, but …."

"Don’t worry, then. We’ll be there to guide you through. You’ll be doing this to please us too, you know. We’re all on your side," oozed another girl as she fastened Chrissie’s blind-fold securely in place.

"We’ll be with you every step of the way. It’ll be our collective revenge you’ll be dishing out to that horrible, nasty bitch. Trust me, Chrissie, watching you do this will be absolutely and totally fucking awesome."

/////////////////////// end of part one.

This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:

https://www.trailboss.org/threads/new-here.2024/

https://www.trailvoy.com/threads/no-start.216201/

https://cs.trains.com/members/kassio/default.aspx

https://www.treebuzz.com/forum/threads/dragonfly-harness.48804/

https://www.trikedoctor.co.uk/forums/viewtopic.php?f=11&t=19406