The object called Mina (BDSM Erotica)

They led her in to the pit on a leash. A goddamn leash like she was their pet dog. They’d bound her too, taping her arms behind her so tightly her shoulders ached, then wrapping more around her chest under her breasts to keep them right against her back. Sure, she could walk on heels but these were so damned tall she was balancing on her toes and that meant taking small, awkward steps. Keeping up was tough and the leash kept snapping against the collar round her neck.

At least she wasn’t naked. She’d heard stories from the other girls that had scared her a little, so when they’d thrown the small parcel of royal blue spandex at her she’d been relieved. Less so when it turned out to be a tight bodysuit that covered her from the neck down.

There were murmurs of approval as she was led out into the pit. It was like she was in a theatre, albeit a small one, with a couple of raised rows arranged in a half moon around the stage. It was dark, the only light the one that was focused on her as she stood alone in the centre. It hurt her eyes, but she was able to make out the shadowy outlines of a dozen or so people gathered round.

“Stand still,” they told her. “You do not speak. You do not move. You just stand.”

She did as they said, one turning to address the gathered crowd while the other removed the collar from her neck.

“Here we have Mina,” said the other. He spoke loudly and clearly, projecting his voice so that it did not quite echo in the pit. “She’s a lovely young thing, I think you’ll agree.”

There were more murmurs from the crowd. She could sense eyes inspecting her, covering every inch of her with their wanton stares.

“What a pretty face,” said the man who had released her collar. His hand was beneath her chin, holding her head high and turning it gently from side to side so all could see. “Such lovely features.”

Agreement.

“Mina is new to us,” continued the other. “This is her first appearance for members and I hope it will not be her last.”

More agreement.

“Now, another special treat for you all is Mina’s age. She’s what we might call ‘barely legal’ having reached the required age just three months ago. How long is it since we’ve had such youth to entertain us?”

Excited chatter.

“Is she a virgin?” Called someone.

“Well?” Asked the other. “Are you? Speak clearly.”

She was trembling with an uneasy anticipation. A part of her wanted to scream and run, another was terrified and froze her to the spot, a third waited to see if what would happen was what they’d threatened.

“Yes,” she said. “I am a virgin.”

“So you’ve never been with anyone?”

“Not with a man, no.”

She felt the stunned silence.

“A woman, perhaps? An OLDER woman?”

Foolish girl.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“And did she introduce you to this lifestyle, perhaps?”

Her head fell forward. Had they not cut her fringe square across her brow her hair might have hidden her face and her blushing cheeks.

“Yes,” she said softly.

They already knew, of course. When they’d interviewed her in that bright, spacious office she’d told them everything. Maybe too much.

“Such lucky members today!” Crowed the other. “A young virgin woman all ready and willing to entertain you. And you are willing, aren’t you, Mina?”

They looked at her with expressionless faces. It was the last opportunity for her to withdraw with her dignity in tact. If she declined she would be taken away and freed and sent on her way. If she didn’t she would be committed.

“I am willing,” she said.

Applause.

Pressure on her. She submitted, allowing herself to fold onto the cold wooden floor as he guided her down. He eased her round, lying her out straight on her stomach and crossing her ankles.

“Gentlemen, I trust you have all prepared as you were instructed?” The other called out as the applause died down.

Agreement.

“Excellent. Our preparations are nearly at an end and I shall invite you down in due course.”

The rip of tape. Her ankles were bound together with it, more wrapped around above and below her knees to keep her legs firmly together. He’d lifted her to do it so easily she’d felt as light as a feather. And he did it again, wrapping more around her thighs.

Then he bent her legs. He bent them so far that her heels nearly touched her hands. Round and round he went with the tape, four or five times until her legs were held firmly in position.

She was trembling, not in fear but in excitement. Being helpless would have cause fear and panic in someone else, but she welcomed it like a drug. Testing the tightness of the tape enhanced the sensation, made her more aware of how her body was twisted into the position he wanted.

He placed her back on the floor and knelt down by her head, stroking her hair away from her face.

“Click your fingers three times if you need to be released,” he told her quietly. “I’m watching.”

His hand pressed on her mouth, only it wasn’t empty. As her lips parted she felt the cloth being pressed inside until her tongue was forced against the floor of her mouth and her jaw wouldn’t close. Then the rip of tape and the gag was sealed in.

Again he lifted her, carrying her a short way in his arms. He went down steps, then lowered her gently into the bottom of the recess. The enamelled metal was cold enough to make her gasp and shiver.

“Gentlemen, please.”

At first she just lay in the bottom, waiting for her body to warm the metal. Above her she was aware of her audience leaving their places and gathering around the sunken pit where she lay.

“She looks delightful down there,” said someone.

“Absolutely beautiful,” said another.

They were admiring her. A gaggle of men she had never met and never seen were looking at her with perverted fantasies growing inside their minds. How many were imagining her naked? How many imagining their hands on her body? How many imagining they were fucking her as she was bound and gagged on the floor?

What could she do about it?

The excitement started inside her again. She felt her hips gently move, pressing her thighs together although she wasn’t entirely sure she was in control of what she was doing. Her breathing started to deepen, her heart beat a little faster.

“Ah, she does like her bondage.”

“Lovely little wriggle.”

She surprised herself when she moaned. It wasn’t loud, but a quiet, satisfied sound that somehow found its way past the cloth and tape. They heard it. It pleased them.

Her pleasure was growing, becoming more intense. Every movement of her hips, every slide of her breasts across the enamel, every time she moved and found herself caught against the grip of the tape.

It was wrong, part of her screamed. It was wrong to be treated as an object for THEIR amusement. It was wrong for her to disrespected as a woman, as a human being. It was wrong to hear their comments and murmurs of approval and feed her own pleasure from them.

Oh shit, she was going to cum.

Desperately she searched for something to find, some thought that would pull her back from the edge. Perhaps the cage would do it, a cold and brutal place with bars on three sides, a straw mattress to sleep on and a bucket to piss in? But she’d found the hours she spent in there exciting and they tapped into a long forgot fantasy about her imprisonment. The office where they’d interviewed her, that was plain and boring, but she kept thinking back to the two strong middle aged men and how handsome and refined they were and how she had longed to sink to her knees the moment she’d met them. Each time she tried to focus on something else it was these she came back to, these and the reality of being bound and gagged for an audience.

Something did cut through. A voice. A clear, polite voice that was firm and demanding without being overly so. It brought her back from the edge.

“On your side, Mina.”

Of course. A command for her to follow. A clear instruction.

She twisted her body round, using her hips and thighs to move away from the middle of the pit. There was little enough space for her to move, but once she was nearly at the edge she started to rock left and right, building up momentum until she could arch her back and use her legs as a pendulum to tip her onto her side. Her arms, taped hard against her back, were useless and so she quickly flipped her legs forwards again, using them to stop herself from rolling back onto her stomach.

Then she looked up.

There were a dozen of them looking down on her. A dozen men of all shapes and sizes and colours. Some were hairy, others smooth. There were beer guts and toned stomachs. Muscles and flab.

All were naked.

All held their cocks in one hand and gently stroked.

All wore plain white masks.

Reality crashed in on her. A lone woman, bound and helpless and surrounded by twelve men who had no more respect for her than they would an animal. She was meat to them, something to amuse them as they jerked off, her struggle and pleasure an entertaining display for them to enjoy.

How stupid was she?

One raised his hand, looking at someone behind her for permission. It was granted and he stepped forward to the edge of the pit.

She watched in horror as he stood there, no longer tugging on his penis but simply aiming it at her.

It thudded against her stomach, a strong, steady stream that was warm and thick. She felt the spandex getting wet, then realised why they’d chosen it. It clung to her skin, refusing to let the liquid run away from her.

A second stream of piss hit her breast, splashing a little up into her face and making her flinch. She tried to turn her head away, only something made her stay and watch as a third man emptied his bladder onto her.

Now she knew why she was in an enamelled pit. The urine was collecting in the bottom, refusing to drain away. As she lay in it her suit soaked up more and more.

She started to struggle. It was no longer play but a concerted effort to get away. A fear was growing inside her, a fear that she would topple into the growing puddle and drown.

There was a cheer as someone’s stream landed on her face. It hit her cheek, sweeping up to her tightly closed eyes before splashing against her gagged mouth. Someone laughed as she flinched and tried to move her face away.

Pleasure had given way to shame. Moans of pleasure surrendered to the sobbing of a woman degraded.

Then she fell onto her stomach.

It was an accident, but it left her face down in a growing pool of piss. No one seemed to care or mind, they continued to use her as a target as she lay there.

How much more could she take?

She was struggling, fighting hard against the tape. Maybe the warmth of her body or the wetness of the urine had loosened it and she could break free.

What then? Fight her way past a dozen horny men?

Struggling was useless. She stopped and lay still. They were still looking at her, their expressionless masks mocking her with the promise of what her tormentors looked like. A year from now she could walk into any one of them on the street and have no idea it was them, but they would know it was her. They would know she was the silly girl who’d let her fantasies put her in a place where she could be humiliated and degraded.

Someone was picking her up. They lifted her so she could kneel in the pool. They pulled the tape from her mouth and eased the cloth out.

“Twelve men have just used you as their toilet. What do you say?”

She looked round at them.

“Thank you,” she said weakly.

Her eyes opened and she was staring at his crotch. He wasn’t naked, he still wore the black coverall he’d been wearing as he’d bound her, gagged her and put her in the pit.

He could have stopped it at any time but he hadn’t. He’d known how far she would take herself and how much she’d wanted this. Some half-mentioned, ill thought out fantasy that he’d remembered and played with and exposed her to.

“Cum on me,” she breathed. “Please finish my destruction.”

She held herself a little higher for him.

He smiled and said, “No.”

The cloth was pressed back into her mouth and fresh tape stretched across it. He lowered her back into the pit, her body shivering as it touched the cold piss. Face down she lay there as he stepped away.

“Well, gentlemen, I think that was an excellent first session,” said the other to his guests. “Let’s go get cleaned up and we’ll have Mina brought through for round two, I think. Master, would you mind?”

“Of course not,” he said.

Lying at the bottom of pit the object called Mina stopped sobbing and waited for his return. It knew its fate was to be degraded and humiliated for the pleasure of others. It knew it would be used until they had finished with it.

This was the fate of the object called Mina. This was what it had always wanted.

Spread the love...

About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.

Follow me
twitter or fetlife.
Next