The Easter Passion Play – Part 2

The Easter Passion Play – Part 2 by Iphigenia-at-Aulis

I showed up at New Perspective Films on Saturday afternoon as we had agreed. Only Will was there. He greeted me with a big smile. “Nick and Karl will meet us out at the farm where we’ve arranged to film this picture. If you can lend me a hand loading the rest of this gear in the car, then we can be on our way.”

Soon we were on the road, in an old Subaru station wagon. Soon after we started off, Will said, “That was a pretty heavy practice session we had last week. How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m okay. …Um. I guess you’re right though, that was a pretty heavy afternoon. Not your everyday experience.”

“Any like… uh… lingering soreness or anything.”

“No. I’m fine now. I’m ready for whatever comes next.” This last statement was not entirely true. Actually, I was somewhat apprehensive about what might come next.

“Your… uh… nipples? They’re okay? Hope you don’t mind my asking. I was worried we might have put you through too much.”

“Well… They were a little sore for a couple days. But they’re fine now. …All my whip marks faded away fairly quickly. The cane marks took more time, but they’re gone too. So I’m fine, really. …But I do appreciate your concern.”

We rode on, taking the opportunity to become acquainted. I found out that he was a few years older than me, had attended the University for three years, had started out in sciences but with interests changing toward more artistic expression, had found the experience unsatisfying and had dropped out. After he started working with Karl and Nick, they were impressed enough with his stuff to promote him to a full partner.

At one point, feeling pretty comfortable with Will, I decided to turn the conversation toward sex, in an unobtrusively abstract and intellectual way. “Having taken some biology, I sometimes look at human behaviors from a Darwinian point of view. You know… like the effect they have on survival or the number of offspring you leave – both the effect they have now and the effect they had thousands of years ago when our bodies and minds were evolving into their present form… you know, when humans were actually evolving because the pressure of natural selection was so much greater. Anyway, from that point of view, you might say that people have a significant sexual orientation because the individuals with insufficient sexual drive left fewer offspring. So we’re more likely to have descended from those with more sexual desire, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I agree,” replied Will. “Keep going.”

“So I wonder about the biological basis for why guys are turned on by the idea of …uh …like, causing discomfort to a girl they find attractive. In other words, why they get aroused by whipping or spanking a girl. Why would they risk harming a potential mate or their actual mate?”

“Yeah. It’s a good question,” he replied. “It is pretty weird. Even though nature has favored a fair amount of aggressiveness in males, why haven’t they evolved toward complete gentleness with something so valuable as a mate or potential mate? Hmm…”

After several moments of silence, Will continued, “When you consider the primitive hunter-gatherer, or the simple plowman, it’s hard to think of forces favoring rough play with their mate. On the other hand, if you consider the wealthy master with lots of slaves, the one who gets aroused when he disciplines his slave girls is likely to leave more offspring than the one who doesn’t get aroused. Right? …But I don’t know that wealthy masters were numerous enough to explain much, as far as human evolution.”

I pondered that for a minute, then said, “Well, when you think about it, even though the wealthy masters were few in number, they had access to lots of women, and so had potential to leave a lot of offspring. Even though most of us assume that we descended from the salt of the earth, wealthy and promiscuous masters might figure more prominently in our ancestry than we might think.”

“Hmm. Could be,” Will acknowledged.

“But why should it be arousing to women?” I asked. “Like why would a woman allow her breasts to be whipped, when you consider the importance of their intended function?”

“You mean their… um… like mammary function, right? …As distinguished from their erogenous zone function.”

“Um… Yeah,” I answered. “I was thinking in terms of mammary function. You’re viewing the erogenous zone function as a confounding influence on people’s behavior?

“Yeah, maybe… But the question is still why would a girl like you let a guy like me whip your breasts? The only answer I can think of is that it must be because you’re crazy. So wonderfully, irresistibly crazy.” Will had a big grin.

“So I suppose you’re sane?” I laughed. “After what you did to me, you think your sane? Here I am, not as strong as you to begin with, and then you tied me up so I’d be completely helpless, took that cruelly long whip, picked out one of the most sensitive spots on my body, my nipples, and then whipped me on them over and over, completely without mercy, heedless that I was gasping and crying out with every stroke. So you’re sane?”

“Hey, wait a minute. Every time you told us to stop, we stopped… immediately. Right? So it’s not fair to say ‘completely without mercy’. In fact, in the end we finally had to stop even though you never would ask us to.”

“Um… Well… Uh…”

“But even though the ‘without mercy’ part isn’t accurate, your description of what happened really turns me on. So obviously I’m crazy too.”

“I’m glad you liked how I described it. When I was saying it I thought it sounded pretty neat, however it was that I worded it.”

“I don’t think you said anything about why you were whipped.”

“No, I didn’t. You guys made it part of my job. But beyond that, why was I whipped?”

“Because you’re such a pretty girl, so sweet, so gentle, so innocent, so completely undeserving of such treatment. Isn’t that a great reason?”

I giggled a little self-consciously.

“Oops! That was the entrance drive I just passed. Gotta turn around.” Will slowed the car, made a U-turn, and soon we were bumping along a secluded vehicle trail, through woods and meadow, until we arrived at a small cluster of farm structures: an old barn in disrepair, an outhouse, and one of those ugly round-roofed corrugated metal buildings – Will called it a Quonset hut.

Nobody else had arrived yet. We got out of the car and approached the barn. Inside, lying horizontal, but raised about knee-high off the floor on four pairs of concrete blocks, was the wooden cross. A shiver went down my spine. That’s what they were going to hang me on.

I slid my hand along it. It had been sanded very smooth.

“We had to make sure you didn’t get any splinters off it,” said Will. “And it’s got this spring gizmo on the back of it.”

As I bent over to look at the underside of it, partially recessed I could see what looked like some complicated mechanism with what looked like a garage door spring as the most prominent feature. “What’s that?”

“It’s the adjusting mechanism for supporting your body. Your friend Steve, and another engineering student, put it together for us. It’s supposed to allow us to hang you in a realistic looking way, without any risk of dislocating… er, uh, putting too much stress on your shoulders and arms. So it will look like you’re hanging mostly by the arms, but actually a lot of your weight will be supported by a rope you’ll have around your hips and under your crotch. With your knees bent, you’d get really tired trying to support yourself very long with your legs.

“So anyway, you have nothing to worry about. The point of the spring mechanism is that it’s self-adjusting for different sized people. It seems like a lot of trouble for this film, but the guys said that they had somebody who’s offering to buy the thing when we’re done with it. …Or they might offer it on EBay.”

“As outdoor recreational equipment?” I quipped. “…But getting back to this crucifixion, how do you handle the nails through the wrists? …Of course you can understand why I might ask.”

“There’s no nails through anybody’s wrists, simulated or otherwise. We’re not trying to gross people out. You’ll have a big, heavily-padded leather handcuff on each wrist. …They’re around here somewhere. …Here they are,” pulling them out of a duffle bag.

“They’re really stout.”

“The idea is to use them as an exaggerated contrast with the slenderness of your arms. Like, to project the contrast between the tender sleekness of your body, and the crude and massive force with which you’ve been put on the cross.”

“Hmm. I can picture that. …So no nails then.”

“Well, actually we do pound some spikes into those pilot holes there in the cross. The rope pulling on each cuff is supposed to look like it’s held by the spike, but actually it leads back to the spring gizmo.”

“So the idea is that I can be thought of as having been nailed onto there, although not through the flesh.”

“Right. Want to lay down on it and see how it fits you?” He had a mischievous expression on his face.

I sat down straddling the cross, and answered, “I can tell you’re up to no good. But since in your words, I’m ‘so innocent’, I guess I’m supposed to act like I don’t know any better and do it.”

“Who me, up to no good?” He gently stroked my back for a brief moment as I sat there. It might have been an innocent gesture, but I had the feeling that he might have been trying to check out whether I had a bra on under my flannel shirt. In fact I did not. I’ve never considered them a particularly comfortable article of clothing. After entering college I got out of the habit of wearing one. Now I’m not too inclined to put one on, except sometimes briefly for jogging, depending on where I am in my periodic cycle. For a moment I sort of wished I had one on now, but then I realized it wouldn’t help. In the context of this work, he was going to get to my breasts one way or another.

I carefully lay back onto the cross. It was too narrow to be very comfortable. I kept my feet on the ground for stability, but extended my arms out onto the cross piece. “There. Are you satisfied?”

“Not quite.” Taking a rope, he ran it around my right arm and the cross piece a half a dozen times wrist to shoulder, then brought it under and continued binding my left arm to the cross piece. I let him do it. I thought I would wait until he tried to knot the ends before frustrating his attempt by pulling out of the bonds. This job had enough rough stuff without encouraging Will’s extracurricular bondage activities.

But as I tested the strength of my restraints, I realized that he didn’t need to knot the ends. By winding up the entire length of my arms, he had already limited my movement too much to squirm out of my bonds.

“You…! You’ve got me again.”

“Oh dear. You poor girl. You’re going to have to submit again?”

Not wishing to lay there docilely, I continued to squirm as he secured the rope and then as he slowly unbuttoned and opened my shirt.

“I love your belly button,” he said, inserting his finger. It tickled. He then moved his hands firmly up the contours of my midriff and ribs. “I love ribs. …Ah. And your breasts. Your precious breasts. Do you think breasts are the most extraordinary things in the universe, or is that just a fixation of mine?” He fondled them, tweaking my nipples.

“Gee, I don’t know. Sometimes I think guys make too much about them. But whatever.”

He kissed my now very stiff nipples. Then he started sucking on them. What an incredible sensation. I couldn’t help arching my back, so arousing was it.

I murmured, “It’s that feeling that’s the most extraordinary…” I had to have more. …But the sound of a vehicle approaching interrupted my rapture.

“Hmm. Maybe this doesn’t look good,” said Will. “Karl thinks it’s not a good idea for us to get too involved with each other until we’re done shooting the film. …Not that he’s my boss or anything.”

“Just first among equals.”

“Huh? Oh. Maybe so,” he answered. “But it might only be Nick. Anyway, we’ll just say we’re getting you conditioned for the job.” He then reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a pair of clothes pins. I wondered what he had in mind with them.

Nick entered the barn, saying, “Hi guys. I see you’ve been busy.” Surveying me, shirt open, tied down on the cross, he said, “You’re looking good today, Jenny.”

“I thought we’d work on her conditioning,” said Will, holding the clothes pins up. “Have you ever had these on, Jenny?”

“Clothes pins? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Like this.” He brought the open clothes pin to my nipple, and slowly applied it. The squeeze was gentle at first, but continued to build, as my nipple took on more and more of the force of the spring.

“Oh! That pinches!” He let me absorb more pressure until it clamped on fully. I panted, “Oh! Oh! Oooooh!” The intensity was like an electric current shooting through my nipple.

“If you really can’t get used to it, I can take it off. But we’d like to use them in the film, if that’s okay.”

I guess I was beginning to acclimate to the sensation. I was quietly panting, eyes squinched shut, when I felt a clothes pin being applied to the other nipple. I tried to squirm to avoid it, but too late, my nipple was already caught, and soon accepting the full pressure.

“Ooooooh! My nipples!” I gasped, panting.

“How is that? Okay?”

I didn’t answer. I just lay there on the cross, breathing heavily, absorbing that pinching intensity on my nipples. In the distance, I could hear another vehicle approaching.

In a minute or so, Karl stormed in, waving some paper. “Nick, I can’t live with this script the way it is. What you’ve done…” He stopped short when he noticed me, tied down on the cross, shirt open. Coming over to observe, he smiled, “Jenny, you never cease to amaze.” Then he bobbed the clothes pins back and forth on my nipples. I winced. I didn’t know what to say. Did he think I had asked the guys to do this to me?

“You’re an extraordinary girl.” Then turning, he continued. “Anyway, Nick, I just can’t warm up to what you’ve done with Jenny’s lines. You’ve made her too remote, too wise, too invulnerable.”

“Well, that’s sort of inevitable, isn’t it?” answered Nick, somewhat vexed. “She’s the daughter of god, isn’t she? …I guess I understand what you don’t like. But what are we supposed to do with her? We have to deal with a female character who’s got all this beyond-worldly knowledge and wisdom. I agree, she loses some sex appeal because of it. …If you’ve got a better way, then you write it.”

“Hmm,” replied Karl. “I don’t know. We gotta think about this. What do we want Jenny’s character to be? I’m not trying to say there’s anything wrong with wise women. Wise women manifest really appealing female traits… you know, receptive, gentle, caring, and so on. But… it’s like a wise woman is receptive, gentle, and caring, because she is wise …because she understands.”

“Okay, so what’s your problem?”

“The problem is that the woman I want here is receptive, gentle, and all that, not because she understands, but because that’s inherently the kind of person she is – she has no choice. I don’t want her to display beyond-worldly wisdom. The problem with the really wise person is that whatever comes their way, they’re right there with it, moment to moment. That gives them an air of invulnerability, because they’ve basically risen above the struggle of seeking pleasure and avoiding pain.

“But,” he continued, “having an air of invulnerability greatly weakens the impact of the film’s events on the character. You know, that’s the problem with the way Christ is portrayed in films. He usually ends up being this one-dimensional character because so many Christians will go berserk if he’s portrayed having the mind of a man instead of the mind of a god. …But if he’s got the mind of a god, then he knows he’s inherently invulnerable. And if he knows that, then what he experiences is no worse than what we experience having some kind of heavy-duty dental work done.

“And another thing,” Karl was really on a roll, “all that wisdom, and the resulting air of invulnerability, just doesn’t fit Jenny that well, I don’t think. I want the girl in this film to project a sweet innocence and vulnerability combined with a powerful sexuality.”

The sensation from my pinched nipples having numbed to the point that I could again speak in complete sentences, I said, “But you’re asking me to portray two really contrasting traits, ‘sweet innocence’, and ‘powerful sexuality’. I’m not sure how to project both of those simultaneously. Is it even possible to do that?”

All three guys looked at me incredulously. Had I said something really stupid? Kneeling beside me, Karl laughed, “Jenny, it’s the sweet and youthful innocence of your magnetic sexuality that makes you so incredibly appealing. You don’t have to do anything except be yourself.” He stroked my ribs.

Magnetic sexuality? Me?! That is most certainly not an image I go around trying to project. I glanced down at my bare top, nipples pinched erect by the clothes pins. I felt his fingers pressing on my ribs. Well… Maybe it was understandable if he found me magnetically attractive this way. And maybe I really liked it that he deemed me such.

“Well, Karl, I agree with everything you’re saying,” said Nick. “But we’re still dealing with the daughter of god, aren’t we? In what situation would she seem vulnerable? You’ve talked a lot, but I still haven’t heard a solution.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem – how to make the daughter of god vulnerable,” replied Karl.

“Hmm…” said Will. “How about if we don’t have her think of herself as having been sent on a divine mission? Instead, uh… how about if she feels that her father has kicked her out of heaven in a fit of anger?”

“Yeah,” replied Karl. “Yeah, that could work. As far as she’s concerned, despite her illustrious family background, she’s just an ordinary human with no special privileges. Yeah, I like it.”

At this point I said, “Excuse me for interrupting your train of thought, but this cross is too narrow to lie on very long. I’m so uncomfortable, can’t you let me get up?”

“Oh sure. Sorry,” said Will. He quickly loosened the rope, releasing me.

I got up, immediately bringing my hands to my breasts. “Can’t I take these clothes pins off now? You don’t know how my nipples feel.”

“Hey, they look really good on you,” said Nick. “You ought to consider wearing them all the time.”

I didn’t consider that to be a definite ‘no.’ I quickly released the clothes pin from my right nipple. Sensation surged back in. “Ow. Ow. Oooh!” I gasped. I stood panting, waiting for the pain to gradually subside. “Now I’m really afraid to take the other one off. How do I get it off without it hurting so much?”

“Here. Let me try,” said Karl. Taking a deep breath, he blew a long cooling breeze onto my nipple as he released the clothes pin. Oddly, that trick did lessen the pain a little. Nipples freed at last, I cradled my breasts in my hands.

* * * * *

For the next three hours, we rehearsed many of the scenes for the film, with a lot of ad-lib as we went along. Although not their usual mode of operation, all three guys had decided they would play key parts. Several other people would be assigned minor, mostly non-speaking parts. They intended to bring in a couple free-lance cinematographers to do most of the camera work.

The guys spent quite a bit of time talking and arguing about the scenes. I was surprised how much concern they had about portraying plenty of heavy SM action without conveying callous cruelty. They wanted their characters to maintain caring concern for the girl they were crucifying. I sensed that they were straddling opposing tendencies of their personalities – an ambivalence I also experienced, although differently, being on the receiving end of the action. But I also felt that if they were going to trouble themselves about such concerns, then I need not worry. I could trust that no harm would come to me by their hands.

At one point, despite no one disagreeing with him, Karl launched into this rant about how important their facial expressions and body language were, with regard to not conveying any sense of malicious pleasure in inflecting pain. The facial expression should be either of dispassion – like men simply doing their jobs – or else of simple admiration for me and my sexuality.

Also he didn’t want their body language to convey any sense of trying to whip me really hard, such as by throwing their whole body into the stroke. A simple flick of the wrist, and just let the whip do its work. As the one who would be on the receiving end, I appreciated that. I knew it was going to be plenty to deal with without them trying extra hard to make it hurt.

* * * * *

By the end of the afternoon, even Karl, the most exacting of the three, seemed satisfied with our progress.

“Shall we call it a day? I’ve just about had it,” said Nick.

“Yeah. I think we’re in pretty good shape, even without having done a mock-up of the crucifixion, ” said Karl. “We’ll start shooting on Tuesday. You’re free on Tuesday afternoon, is that right, Jenny?”

“Yes, I’m done at noon on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Okay, so you can meet Will at the studio at say 12:30?”

“Yes, that would be good.” I smiled at Will.

“You know,” said Will, “we still haven’t resolved how we’re going to bind her for the whipping scene. That’s another thing we skipped over today.”

“Oh yeah,” said Karl, with a bit of a smile. “How could we forget that? Are you up for a few strokes, Jenny?”

I should have realized I had gotten off too easily this afternoon. “Okay,” I sighed. But I would not have gone home disappointed if whips had today remained in the realm of all talk, no action.

“But I’m a little concerned about the risk of leaving any whip marks that might linger on until Tuesday, when we start shooting,” said Karl.

“How about if we stick with the riding crop with the soft leather slapper on the end?” suggested Nick. “That shouldn’t leave any lines.”

“Sounds good. You want to slip out of your shirt and pants, and then let me bind your wrists, Jenny? And let’s get the lights on and a couple cameras going. I want to be able to study how this looks.”

I took off my flannel shirt and jeans. He hadn’t said anything about taking off my panties, and I didn’t volunteer them. I held out my wrists in front of me while he fastened the cuffs. I felt a little queasy.

They fastened the cuffs to a rope, which they tossed up over a high rafter. As I glanced up, I thought I saw two heads dodge back out of sight in the hay loft. It seemed that we had some youthful spectators. I wondered how long they had been watching. Well, now they were going to see something that was worth the wait.

They pulled my arms up just high enough that I couldn’t use them to protect my breasts.

“Maybe we ought to warm her up on the butt first,” suggested Nick. “It doesn’t seem fair to light into her more sensitive areas first thing.” Will then pulled the rear of my panties up and in, exposing my cheeks.

Nick swung the crop, whoosh …whap! “Mgh!” Whoosh …whap! Whoosh …whap! Whoosh …whap! I was panting, but I tried to keep silent, as he worked the crop over my ass, and then gradually down the back of my thighs. Whoosh …whap! Whoosh …whap! Over and over. Moving up and down my ass and thighs, even several on the calves.

Finally, Nick left off, and Karl took a turn. Telling me to spread my legs, he worked it on the inside of the thighs for a while. I tried to keep quiet, but could not help voicing my gasps. Working from the back, he brought the crop up on my pussy a few times, through my panties. Sensitive as that area is, he did it lightly enough that I didn’t have too much trouble with it.

Then he came around front. Pulling the crotch of my panties to the side, he exposed my pussy. “Nick, hold open her pussy lips, so I have a clear shot at her clit.” I couldn’t believe he was going to do this to me.

With Nick holding me open, he slapped the crop onto my clit. He didn’t swing it that hard. He didn’t need to. “Oooooh! Do you have to do it there?” Nick meanwhile, had jerked his hand away and was standing in front of the camera putting on this pretended show of how much his fingers hurt from having caught the edge of the crop.

Then again Nick held open my pussy lips, and Karl slapped the crop onto my clit, harder this time. “Ow…ow…owwww!” Then again a third time, still harder. “Ahhhhhhhh! No! No more!” I cried out, pulling away from them.

“No? Okay, okay.” They paused to give me time to compose myself. Will gently dabbed my tears away.

I then noticed Karl fiddling with this smooth tubular chrome object. “Mind if we stick this in you?” he asked.

I hesitated, frowning. After that clit smacking, I wasn’t sure I wanted him going near my pussy. And I really didn’t like the idea of that big, weird, cold thing being stuck inside me.

“How about if we lubricate it real good?” asked Karl, taking a tube of lubricant jelly and slathering it onto the object. Reluctantly, I let him remove my panties. Even more reluctantly, I spread my legs and tried to relax as he inserted it into my pussy. He slid it in slowly. Eyes closed, mouth open, I tried to breathe deeply.

Then Will took his turn with the riding crop. No warm ups on my stomach or ribs, he went straight for my breasts. Whoosh …whap! “Oooh!” To the softness below the nipple. Whoosh …whap! “Ahhh!” Same place on the other breast. Whoosh …whap! Side of the breast. And then again.

Whoosh …whap! “Ahhhhh!” Hard on the nipple. Whoosh …whap! “Oooooh!” The other nipple. And then again. And again. Now he was going for the nipples, hard with every stroke. I could no longer keep still for this.

My wrists, being raised only high enough to keep me from protecting my breasts, left me plenty of freedom to jerk and dance away from the strokes. I began to take full advantage of this freedom. By twisting away, I was usually able to lessen the impact of his stroke. A few times I was able to evade it entirely.

As I danced about at the end of my rope, with Will pursuing my nipples, I knew I was putting on a good show of jiggling breasts. All three guys were having to make adjustments inside their bulging crotches.

This went on for some time. Sometimes I breathed an elated “Hah!” when he missed me entirely. But more often I gasped “Oooooh!” when he caught me right smack on the nipple. Although I was managing to make it more difficult for him, over time he was still succeeding in giving me a good whipping. My nipples were really burning.

At one point, Karl intervened, “Jenny, what you’re doing is absolutely fantastic. I’d love to put a scene like this into the film. But for the whipping scene in this story, as the daughter of god, I feel that you need to… well, undergo your ordeal with more composure and grace. In other words, to accept your whipping.”

Pulling the rope to raise my wrists higher, thereby somewhat reducing my freedom of movement, he continued, “So how about if you keep still as Will is swinging the crop? I’d like to see you bravely accept each stroke, then wrench away as an involuntary reflex action. Can you try that for a little? …And then we quit. …And Will, could you ease up a little on your stroke? I don’t know how her nipples must be feeling at this point, but she’s taken a hell of a whipping.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, Jenny. I don’t need to do it that hard, ” said Will.

“Yes, please not so hard. My nipples are really on fire. But I’ll try to do it the way you guys want.” My voice was a little shaky as I brushed my tears onto my raised arms.

Whoosh …whap! “Oooh!” I jerked sideways, from the hips, in a dance motion, jiggling my breasts. Whoosh …whap! “Ahhh!” I wrenched to the other side. Whoosh …whap! Again. And again. Will and I got up a good rhythm: he slapped the crop onto my nipples, I wrenched to one side or the other, swaying my hips and voicing a gasp, then letting the motion quiet itself as he took his next stroke.

He was not hitting overly hard, although it could not be called a light stroke either. Perhaps I was not really interpreting the intense sensations as pain, although my nipples were burning. Rather, I felt as if Will was playing a steady dance beat on my body, while I danced, with an abrupt jerk of the hips and torso, and a gentle return sway. How long this went on I have no idea. I was focused entirely on the dance beat. I kept my eyes closed the whole time, better to follow the rhythm. Visual sensation had no role here. The experience was one of feeling, sound, and motion.

Slow dance to the whip. The rhythm of the whip. …The next thing I knew, my state of arousal was teetering on the brink. How had I gotten to this point? Should I let myself go? Would the guys know what I was doing? No matter, too late; I couldn’t stop myself now anyway. The spasms of orgasm launched through me. “Oooh. …Ahhh. …Ahhh.” I’m not sure whether they could tell what I was doing or not, but Will might have adjusted his strokes. As I was wringing out the last of the climax, Will wound down his strokes.

I stood there breathing deeply, eyes still shut. I could feel one of the guys start undoing my handcuffs. Simultaneously, I could feel that chrome thing slowly slipping out of my pussy. I gave a little push, and it dropped to the floor with a clunk.

Wrists now freed, I sank to the floor cradling my breasts in my folded arms. As I finally opened my eyes, Will sat beside me and put his arm around me. Karl and Nick were gazing at me in rapt admiration.

Will said, “You’re totally incredible. You’re beyond all words.” He placed his hand over mine on my breast.

“You bring out the best in me,” I smiled. I knew he’d like that.

I glanced at Karl and Nick. They were still gazing at me, but becoming aware of themselves staring, they turned and began to take down the cameras and lighting equipment, although often pausing to cast their eyes admiringly toward me.

Will and I sat there for a while quietly. But with the sun dipping below the horizen, the air was cool. “I’ve got to get some clothes on.”

“Clothes?” replied Will. “Oh yes. One of those unfortunate necessities.” I imagined that in his ideal world, I would not wear such things.

As I walked across the floor to get my clothes, I stepped in something slimy. “What’s that?” There were big gooey drops of creamy fluid on the floor there. I glanced around. There were two other sets of big gooey drops in other places. I looked at the guys. They were grinning imbecilically at me.

“Oh,” is all I could think of saying. I quickly put on my clothes.

End Part 2 of 3. Part 3 coming tomorrow!

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