by Goddess Sara

My friends convinced me to try out for the cheerleading squad, and much to my surprise I made it. I always thought that the girls who made it on were picked by popularity or for their breasts or how cute their asses looked in the tiny little skirts, but I was wrong; the older squad members picked the girls they wanted for their personal sex slaves.

A redhead named Sara seemed personally responsible for putting me on the team, and I didn’t know why at the time. Sara was so beautiful and composed, (and I flushed guiltily at these thoughts, as I was supposedly completely straight) with a flat tummy, large D-cup breasts and long silky legs that stuck out gracefully from her itty-bitty cheerleading skirt, going on and on until they ended in sexy little feet, and a face that was built for kissing and licking and sucking with adorable, pouty lips, framed by gorgeous red hair. Sara was always in the popular group, and her notice of me made things move low in my stomach and kept me confused and unbalanced. Sara picked me from the mass of jumping, screaming and tumbling girls with a touch on my cheek that could be called a caress, and as simple as that, I was a cheergirl.

I stood in front of my mirror in only my cheerleading skirt and the knee-high socks I would wear for games, looking over my body and marveling that I was a cheerleader! I was still confused about Sara, and why she picked me… I felt so plain, especially compared to her… My face wasn’t as pretty, my blonde hair didn’t have that shine, that touchableness hers did, and my breasts were tiny (though a medium B isn’t exactly non-existent, more of a healthy handful), and my legs were too muscular and short. Sara was even a good four inches taller than I was… I flipped up my skirt, revealing my naked slit and part of my ass to the mirror. Those I felt were good enough for my cheerleading uniform, with my neatly trimmed pubic hair covering an always moist and usually soaking wet slit, and a nicely rounded and shaped ass (which I never considered a sexual object, but I knew most guys did). I was tempted to masturbate, thinking of Mark’s (the school’s biggest hunk and a guy I had a huge crush on) reaction if he saw me in only what I was wearing now, but practice started soon.

It was near the end of practice and I was sweaty and hot (wearing the full cheerleader outfit this time) when Sara came up to watch me practice the dance steps. She had been ignoring me most of the day, talking with the other two senior cheergirls, Laura and Meghan. She watched for a few minutes, and then wandered off behind me. I was shocked and ashamed when I felt two hands clamp tightly and painfully on my breasts, and a warm, breathing mass pressed itself tightly against my back. Sara’s lips moved over my neck and face, leaving a wet trail, before kissing my sensitive ear. I looked around for help and saw the coach was gone, and the other girls were in similar positions, the two new girls all being held by an older cheerleader. One girl was struggling against Meghan, but a brunette named Rachel seemed to be making only token resistance, and her cheerleader assailant (Laura) actually had her hand down Rachel’s skirt. Sara squeezed my breasts particularly hard, fingers pinching my nipples through my clothes, and bit my earlobe cruelly, bringing all my attention back to her. “Noo, stop” I moaned, feeling a trickle of hot wetness from my ear and tried to pull away from my attacker. Sara spun me around to face her, using my breasts as leverage, and glared down into my eyes.

“Listen Jenn bitch, you belong to me and only to me! You will do everything I say, or I’ll punish you so much you’ll beg to be allowed to serve me!”

I shook my head, sending a drop of blood onto my cheerleading blouse from my ear and tried to pull away from her. She was too strong, I felt small and helpless in her iron grip, and Sara casually slapped me.

“I didn’t tell you to do that Jenn.”

She pressed her lips to mine, pushing her wet and slimy tongue forcefully through my sore lips, running it over my teeth and sliding it to the back of my throat, making me gag. When she pulled back to stare into my eyes, I could taste her all over my mouth.

She said “Wear your cheerleading outfit tomorrow. You do not have permission to say no to me, ever. You belong to me, and I expect you to do as I wish, always.” She walked off, ass swaying seductively under her tiny skirt. I stared after her, feeling lost, helpless, and violated.

I did go to school dressed in my cheerleading clothes, afraid of Sara’s punishments and wondering about the strange power that she seemed to have over me. She was in my first class; she had transferred in somehow, and was sitting right behind me. Class started before I could move to another seat, and I soon forgot my nervousness about my beautiful cheerleader stalker. At least until I felt a bare foot running up and down my leg, up and down, up and down again and again.

I blushed lightly, both at the feel of her skin on mine, and the fact that I let her do that to me, until I could take the sensations and the shame no more. I turned to glare at her, still blushing a delicate pink, and she grinned and stuck her tongue out at me, licking her lips. I blushed even more and turned quickly back to my desk, remembering where that tongue had been and how it had made me feel.

Sara continued to massage my leg unchallenged for a few minutes, then changed tactics and slid her foot inside my skirt. I gasped, wide eyed, as I felt her toes grasp my panties and slide them down until they rested on my chair, revealing most of my ass to her hungry view. I blushed a deep red, thankful my legs prevented her from removing the cloth entirely, wiggling my panties back into place and my skirt down, hoping nobody behind me could see the view. Sara did it again and again, exposing my pale ass to the cold air. I of course covered myself each time, blushing a deep crimson, until the bell rang and saved me from my humiliation.

Sara walked me to my next class, sitting behind me and continuing to slide my panties down off my slim waist as far as she could. I finally gave up and left my skirt up around my waist, panties down and ass hanging out for anybody to see. Sara made a pleased sound and began stroking my hair with her hand, making soothing, comforting sounds to me. After class, panties and skirt rearranged to conceal my private parts, Sara cornered me in the hall.

“Good girl Jenn! You’re learning very well.”

She sounded like she was talking to a dog, and even patted my head! At lunch, she dragged me away from my friends and sat me at the cheerleader’s table, where she and the other two veteran cheerleaders sat and talked. Even the positions seemed to radiate dominance, with all the older girls sitting on the back of the bench, new recruits sitting humbly at their feet on the bench. Rachel and the other new girl and I ate quietly, with our heads down and avoided looking at each other or our self-proclaimed Mistresses. I wondered what had happened to the other girls, what sexual tortures they had endured. Rachel looked the most downtrodden, and had a black mark on her face as if she had been hit and every time Laura spoke loudly, she jumped.

Lunch ended without any more torments but Sara was in all my classes that day, each time pulling my skirt up and removing my panties as much as she could. I wanted to go straight home and hide from the world, but cheerleader practice was right after school.

When I arrived to the locker room, shuffling my feet the whole way, Sara was already there, in bra and panties, intently watching Laura abuse an underwear clad Rachel. I stared open-mouthed as Laura rained slaps on Rachel’s body and breasts and face, calling her names like “pussy sucking bitch” and “useless little whore”. Rachel finally dropped to her knees, begging for mercy. I was shocked to see a trickle of wetness staining Rachel’s panties, even though her face was puffy and swollen, and bruises were forming on her pale body. Sara noticed me and pulled me onto her lap, where I fit quite well due to her taller height. She pushed her hands up my shirt, massaging and squeezing my breasts and bra while she watched Rachel lick Laura’s slit. Laura had her hands tangled in the brunette’s hair, pushing her face hard against her wet slit, forcing Rachel’s mouth wider and tongue deeper. I tried to react finally, to resist and get up, but Sara clamped down hard on my breasts, causing me to cry out in pain.

Sara whispered in my ear, her eyes still on the girl on her knees. “Rachel called Laura Mistress just now… We’re not going to practice till you call me that as well.”

I sat there, mouth stubbornly closed until Sara pulled my shirt over my head and pushed my bra down so it bunched at the base of my breasts. She grabbed both nipples and pulled hard, bringing my breasts painfully out from my ribs. I whimpered and screamed, writhing on Sara’s lap, my breasts stretching and stretching until I thought something would tear. Sara let go of my pain-filled nipples and asked “So what am I to you, slave?” I couldn’t answer, so she pulled my head back by my hair, arching my back and causing her breasts to press into my back. I could feel her nipples, little hard rocks of sexual flesh poking me, digging into my skin, and I knew my pain aroused her. With her free hand, she began slapping, punching really, each breast into my chest, pausing now and then to grind my aching, dangling flesh in with the palm of her hand, squeezing and kneading my tits.

I couldn’t resist the pain any more, and cried out, “M-mistress!” in a weak, jerky voice.

Sara immediately stopped torturing my breasts and kissed my cheek. “Good girl Jenn, good girl… Now, say it again.” I helplessly stuttered the word again, unable to face more pain, my face scarlet. I felt used and very ashamed for calling my abuser such an intimate title, verbally acknowledging her power over me.

Sara had put my shirt back on me, leaving my bra where it was so during practice my sore and bruised breasts bounced and flopped, constantly reminding me of the humiliation in the locker room, that I now had, and acknowledged, a lesbian Mistress. I didn’t want this, I had no sexual desire for females, but leaving the cheerleader team or trying to get somebody else to stop Sara never crossed my mind. When practice was over, Sara took my hand and led me back to the locker room, as if I was a little girl. I followed her docilely; knowing any struggle or protest would result in more pain. Sara made me strip, then take off her dirty, sweaty clothes, which I managed without touching her skin, trying to save myself humiliation. Then she led me by a firm grip on a nipple into the shower.

She shoved me into a corner, my ass hitting the cold tile, and said, “Now you’re going to wash me, and do a good, thorough job of it.” I turned on the water and immediately earned a stinging slap that sent my head into the wall “Not so hot you stupid bitch!” Sara hissed. Shaken and wanting to cry, I readjusted the water, apparently to my Mistress’s satisfaction, and wordlessly took the soap and rag she held out to me. I sighed and began soaping her body up, spending extra time on those giant, pale breasts when she moved my hands back to them. I gently massaged the soap into her skin, noticing that her nipples were once again hard.

I wiped her breasts and obediently, but with a lot of blushing, kneeled and soaped and rinsed her feet, which she held demandingly up to me. I worked my way up her legs and saw that her pussy was wet, obviously from more than just the water. I stared for a few seconds, never having seen that pink, wet and hairless and oh so tight looking orifice before.

Sara pushed her hips into my face, telling me to: “Hurry up and finish”, leaving a trail of her juices on my forehead that the water never seemed to get off me. Sara turned and I was forced to clean her ass, massaging the wet and slippery globes time and time again, Sara’s low moans echoing in my ears, until she turned and once again thrust her cunt towards me.

I quickly finished cleaning her slit, working my fingers around inside her at her sharp command. This caused me to blush and wiggle uncomfortably, never in my worst nightmares had I imagined myself being forced to bathe another woman’s private sexual parts. Sara moaned softly, working her hips on my fingers until she came, whether enjoying more the physical sensations or the psychological thrill of breaking my will down to nothing, making me her slave, I couldn’t tell.

Sara had left me kneeling there in the shower, my purpose completed, her slave used to fulfill all her desires. I cried myself to sleep that night, painful bruises and marks on my tits reminding me of my humiliating new role in life- toy, slave, an item to be used and tossed to the side whenever I was unneeded.

Sara was still in all of my classes, but she left me mostly alone, except for whispering to me all the things she would make me do, and making me sit with the rest of the cheerleaders at lunch.

After practice Sara laid me naked and stretched out on the bench, my young body fully exposed to her ministrations. She sat on my stomach, emphasizing that I was helpless and completely under her control, and began to rub her hand over my slit. She continued to do this over and over, until I couldn’t hold my natural reactions back and my slit began to drip lubricating fluids. Sara noticed this immediately, and tangled her long fingers into my pussy hairs, pulling hard.

The trickle from my cunt stopped, and Sara resumed her slow and gentle stroking, until I once again dripped teenage cunt juice. This time Sara pulled my clit from its hiding place, pinching the tender bud. I gave a small scream, much like a stepped on cat, and Sara dropped my clit and turned around, still firmly on top of me. I felt her hands, so soft and warm and smeared with my own pussy juices, tenderly massaging my breasts. She did this until my nipples were hard and I was making quiet moans interspersed with random “Oh’ s”.

Sara seemed unwilling to allow me any pleasure, placing two clips on my nipples. The agony in my youthful breasts sent jolts of pain through my chest and brought tears to my eyes, but Sara soothingly stroked my head and stomach. I realized what she was doing, she was accustoming me to pain, making pain and pleasure mix into one and the same. She was turning me into a real slave, ready to suffer for her Mistress’s slightest desires, and I didn’t have the strength to resist her.

She turned once more and began massaging my girlish slit again, leaving the clamps firmly attached to my breasts. I squirmed, hurting and feeling humiliated and violated and aroused at the same time. She fondled my clit, bringing it back to full hardness and making my slit drip and a small noise from my throat.

Sara noticed all the signs and worked me harder, pushing a finger inside my cunt, rubbing and pushing my clit. After a few seconds, I simply could not help myself and came, nipple clamps and aching stomach and all. She teased my slit, drawing out my embarrassing first orgasm, not just my first one by a woman, but the first one ever, longer and longer until I was a shaking, gasping, sweaty heap on the bench. “Good Jenn! You’re doing quite well in your training, and as a reward, you can keep the clamps. Wear them until seven tonight.”

I dressed, wincing when I put on my bra over the clamps, deciding to go without the confining garment, blushing at Sara’s approving nod. I blushed deeper when I realized the clamps showed through my tight cheerleading shirt, but as soon as I was out of Sara’s view I reached up and undid the hated clips. Tingling pain flooded through my breasts as if thousands of needles were stabbing into me at once, and I saw my nipples were a swollen purple color. I considered throwing the damn things away, but knew Sara would ask for them and be furious if I couldn’t produce them whenever and wherever she demanded. I thought I was safe for the day; I made it home and was sulking in my room until mom knocked on my door at 6:50. I opened it and saw a grinning, cheerleader-outfit clad Sara standing behind my mother. Sara claimed she was here to help me ‘study’ and mom soon left us terrifyingly alone.

Sara shut the door with an evil grin on her face. “I bet you didn’t expect to see me here slave… But I had to see if you followed my orders….” She was almost purring the words, sounding sure I had disobeyed, and I flushed, frantically trying to remember what order she had given me. Our eyes both fell on the clamps, sitting on my table corner where I had thrown them in frustration.

Sara’s eyes narrowed, but she said, “Remove your shirt and show me your breasts.” I considered screaming for help, but I was sure Sara would have some way to distract mother and keep me at her tender mercies, so I sighed and lifted my shirt. My nipples still hurt so I was bra-less, standing there with my shirt held awkwardly and forgotten in one hand as I waited for my punishment. My Mistress said “Go get the clamps and put them on yourself, slave, and then lean over your bed.”

I obeyed reluctantly and slowly, not wanting to cause myself such pain, but knowing I was helpless against Sara’s will. The nipple clamps once again made my breasts throb and ache, but Sara smiled, pleased. I lowered myself onto my bed, ass out in the air, knowing that I was still to be punished, and I was right.

Sara pushed me down farther, so my face was smashed against the covers, and my clamped nipples were trapped against my weight and the bed. She pulled her panties off from under her skirt, balling them up and shoving them completely in my mouth. I struggled slightly, pushing at them with my tongue and making protesting moans, but the silky cloth was firmly lodged in my wide stretched mouth. During my losing fight against my impromptu gag, I found out that Sara’s crotch had been dripping juices into her panties, probably in anticipation of abusing me. The sex fluids began to seep from her panties into my mouth, filling it with a warm, honey like flavor. This was the first time I had gotten a real taste of my Mistress, and in some deep dark part of me, I realized I liked the taste. My mind refused to accept this, and I covered for my anguish by emitting a long, low groan.

Sara smirked and said, “Crying already? I haven’t even spanked you yet.”

I whimpered helplessly, unable to do or say much more. I felt Sara’s hands moving down my back, as if petting a cat, and then she roughly pulled my shorts and panties down, leaving them hanging around my knees, restricting my motion, reinforcing my helplessness. I felt a sharp, hard blow on my ass, and I realized that she was spanking me like a little girl. I gave a small, pain-filled cry, wiggling my ass, not realizing that this would only tempt my tormenter. Sara giggled at my predicament and spanked me again, harder and in the exact same spot as before. I could feel my ass reddening, the pain spreading throughout my tender little ass. I realized each blow drove my body against the bed, pushing my nipples into my breasts, sending sharp pains through my clamped nipples and into my skull.

She yanked the soaking panties from my aching mouth, giving me a few precious seconds to rest my jaws. “Count them Bitch, and thank me for each one, because you deserve your punishment for not following orders.”

Another slap on my ass, on the other cheek this time. “O-one! Thank you Mistress…”

She didn’t wait to acknowledge the counting, hitting me again, using her hand to push the bottom my ass cheeks up, making an odd ‘snap’ sound. “Two! Thank you Mistress, please hit me again!”

I was learning the rules of my sick new life, but my Mistress didn’t care. She hit me again, bouncing my helpless body on my bed. I began to cry, the pain and humiliation overwhelming my mind. I tried to stutter out the next count, tears streaming down my cheeks, but Sara didn’t seem to care since I had already submitted to her will, and continued beating my ass. Blows rained down without any seeming pattern, and I lowered my head into the bed and sobbed uncontrollably, the pain building higher and higher until Sara finally stopped, my Mistress cradling my head and letting me cry on her shoulder.

The next day my ass was still bright pink, with darker purple and black marks on it. Classes were agony, with the hard unyielding chairs forcibly reminding me of each blow from my lesbian torturer. I squirmed all day long, Sara describing to all the other cheerleaders in horribly intimate detail exactly why I couldn’t sit still at lunch, even making me go so far as to bend over and pull up my skirt and my panties down, showing her handiwork to the others. Fortunately, nobody besides the cheerleaders was out there to witness my seemingly voluntary humiliation. After school, my ass was still showing graphically each spot Sara had spanked me, though the colors were fading a bit.

Today was a game day, and that meant we would be performing in front of a lot of students and their families. I wasn’t looking forward to the evening, since my sore ass would make all the cheers and tumbling I had to do painful and awkward. In the locker room Laura and Rachel were nude, Rachel sitting and wiggling shamelessly in Laura’s lap as their tongues swirled in the back of each other’s throats, small whimpers coming from Rachel’s slender neck. I ignored the naked slave and Mistress as best I could, taking a quick shower and putting my cheerleader outfit back on. Sara had finally come in while I was in the shower, and was pinching and pulling on Rachel’s breasts while Laura watched, still holding her poor slave on her lap. I hoped Sara never shared me with anyone, I was ashamed enough at being her slave, and being passed from person to person would just be beyond endurance.

Just before we were all ready to make our triumphant entry onto the field, Sara pulled me into the corner. “Take off your panties, slave, and give them to me.”

I protested, knowing we didn’t have time for sexual games before our performance started. Sara slapped me on my sore and tender ass until my hands flew up under my skirt, lowering my panties and holding them out to my Mistress. Sara ignored my offering and grabbed my hair, pulling me out towards the entrance to the field. I gasped and wobbled, trying to pull away, but she inexorably led me closer and closer to the waiting public. Just when we were still sheltered from view, she stopped and ripped my panties from my hand, tossing them away and shoving me forcefully out of my concealment, into view. I stumbled, barely keeping my skirt covering my bare ass, and helplessly continued forward to the performance.

The first routine was fine, involving no stunts or tumbling, though Sara kept covertly tugging my skirt up higher on my waist, and I had to keep tugging it down. Soon though, I knew I couldn’t keep myself covered, as I would have to do a series of cartwheels. My face began to darken, getting redder and redder as it drew closer and closer to the time I had to reveal myself. I considered running, but my thoughts just kept swirling back to my vulnerable situation. At least with cartwheels, nobody would be able to get more than glimpses, but that was still way too much. I dreaded this torture, knowing all of the guys who would notice me, and even a few girls, would be turned on and lusting after my body.

I imagined word spreading from person to person that Jenn was pantyless, the little slut, until it was announced on the loudspeakers to make sure everybody knew. So absorbed with my fears that I almost missed my cue, and Laura poked me in my side to remind me to get the cartwheels over with.

I took a deep breath and began the flips, knowing with impotent shame and humiliation that my skirt flopped down onto my tummy with each twirl, leaving my neatly trimmed slit open and visible. My blushing ears burned with each murmur from the crowd, normally audible, were amplified in my mind, each word about my partial nudity. I finished my cartwheels, and quickly smoothed my skirt down over my thighs and scooted behind Rachel, hiding from everyone.

Rachel actually gave me an encouraging grin and sultrily whispered, “I liked your little show Jenn. Maybe you could give me another one sometime?” which only caused me to blush harder.

I thought I was safe, and continued the performance more or less without worrying about my short cheerleading skirt and non-existent panties, until the very last thing we cheerleaders had to do. I was to be hoisted up by the other cheer-girls, above their heads and hold my arms up, one knee raised to waist level. The position was humiliating in ordinary situations, with a woman’s hands on my ass, and my clothed body offered like a sacrifice to the crowd, but now it would almost surely show my slit to the watching perverts. Then I realized that I was dependant on Sara for getting down, as she was one of the girls holding me aloft.

Sara and Laura grabbed me before I could run, and easily lifted me into the degrading and revealing position. I was right, my slit was just barely covered, and I feared some of my pussy hair was showing out the bottom of my cheerleading skirt. I felt Sara’s hands on my ass, cool and reminding me of who I belonged to, and that I was here because of her wishes. I felt a draft of cold air on my crotch, and quickly looked down to see that Sara was pushing my skirt even higher.

The crowd was quiet, unsure of how to react to this blatant display of sexuality. Sweat had beaded on my body, running down my waist, collecting in my short hairs, making it look like I was aroused by my involuntary display of eroticism. The two cheerleaders holding me up began turning, still holding my skirt pinned around my waist, showing my reddened ass to the crowd. Any noises my voyeuristic audience might have made was drowned out by the blood rushing through my ears and my soft, broken sobs.

At school people began treating me with sneers and pushes in the hall, some of the males and more openly dike lesbians subtly fondling and groping me. Very rarely could I walk down the hall without feeling hands on my ass, breasts or legs, some even trying to unbutton my pants or lift my skirts. I tried to discuss it with Rachel, who seemed to be my only friend now, but she was too much of a submissive slut to understand my problems. She was actually enjoying the attention, and wished that her Mistress Laura shared her more.

I tried to convince Sara that I would be a good slave to her if she didn’t humiliate me in public any more, but she told me that I was her bitch and I would do whatever she wanted me to.

Later, I was in the locker room undressing for another of the endless series of practices, Sara standing nearby and watching me strip. She turned away from me when I was completely naked, turning back with a large, suspicious bulge under her skirt.

My stomach sank, and I feared the worst. Sara shoved me down, banging my head against the lockers and shoving my legs apart with her feet. My body slumped limply against the hard bench; head shoved between lockers and bench, cutting off my vision and will to struggle. Sara kicked my legs apart further, folding me in upon myself, raising my ass higher and exposing my slit. Sara thrust her strap-on cock hard against my crotch with bruising force, not bothering to aim, driving the plastic phallus into my stomach just above my pussy. She bludgeoned me again and again, forcing the fake cock carelessly into my soft skin, hitting my thighs and ass, and my stomach again, over and over, moans and whimpers coming from my mouth with each thrust.

Sara frowned and guided her cock into my dry slit with her hand, forcefully pushing it in inch by painful inch. I cried out loudly in agony, my pussy burning from its rape. Sara sighed and pushed my gag into my mouth, shoving it against my teeth and pulling the strap so hard I thought she was trying to strangle me with the gag, buckling it so tightly that it made my eyes bulge. I whimpered submissively, trying to get the pain to stop, but Sara only resumed her rape of me. She had worked the cock almost all the way into my pussy, past where my hymen was, long since broken from tumbling activities, and I knew I lost my virginity to a lesbian. This and the pain from Sara’s brutal fucking of my previously virgin slit made me cry, tears streaming down my eyes.

Sara drew her cock out of me, sending it deep into my stretching vagina tunnel, wiggling her hips just like she was a man. The gag and my tears made it hard to breath, and I began making strange rasping sounds in time to my fucking. My vision began to blur, consciousness sliding away from me a bit until I was only focused on Sara’s invasion of my slit. My body began to slide away from me, my slit warming up and lubricating slightly, easing a bit of the burning pain.

Sara noticed her new accessibility and the total lack of resistance from me aside from my broken, gag muffled sobs, and began thrusting longer and harder and deeper, my position allowing her to thrust her big fake cock deep inside me. I felt the plastic ramming at my insides, and I feared it would burst my stomach. I was being bounced around on the bench, my legs about to give away from the trauma of my rape. Sara was holding me up on her cock, my lack of stability pushing the phallus against the upper walls of my vagina, crushing the skin.

The bruising, agonizing motions slowed, stopped with my Mistress’s cock buried deep inside me, and I thought I heard voices. I opened my tear stained eyes, and I saw our cheerleader coach standing over us. Vague hope flickered in my heart that she would see my gagged and helpless position, could do something, anything to stop my cruel Dom. My heart crashed to the floor and tears trickled unnoticed out of my eyes again when I heard the conversation between the two women.

“So you’re finally breaking in your new pet, Sara?” my coach said.

Sara laughed and responded, making a few random thrusts into me. “Yeah, I let her be spoiled long enough, so today I’m really fucking my bitch.”

Coach said, “I can tell. Look at that position you’ve worked her into, and at all those tears. I think I’ll help you get rid of them…”

I heard a zipper, and then my confused and crushed mind noticed Coach’s feet beside my head, pants and red panties around her legs. I felt a warm gush of liquid over my head, and another directly into my eyes. The liquid burned and stank, and I realized I was just peed on. I thought I was going to vomit, stopped only by the gag holding my jaws forced open, and the bitter humiliation and shame caused a low, long groan of torment from me. I felt Coach’s wet pussy, still smelling of her urine, rubbed on my back and shoulders, spreading more of her scent all over my body. Sara had continued thrusting mercilessly into my slit throughout Coach’s use of me, and I was aware that my body was trembling, long since aroused, my cunt not caring that it was being raped, only that it felt good despite the pain.

I moaned and tried to cry out from a different kind of torment as Sara continued to thrust away deep inside my body, this time from the need to cum. My breathing quickened, and my pleading cries softened to gasps of pleasure and I came all over the cock of my Mistress, folded upon myself on a hard bench in a dirty locker room, piss from another woman dripping down my gagged face.

Sara had left me huddled on the bench, crying and soaked in my own cunt juices and sweat and Coach’s pee. My life continued normally, more or less, with Sara making me do little humiliating things for her like tie her shoes and dress her.

Soon it was time for another performance, and Sara was ready to humiliate me, break my will down publicly a bit more. My Mistress was waiting in the locker room, swinging a pussy-cherry red ball gag from her fingers. She grabbed me and pushed it hard past my lips, buckling the strap and holding the gag on with a tiny padlock. I moaned, protesting, and tried to get it off, but the padlock held it tightly on my face.

Sara watched my useless efforts and laughed.

I noticed Rachel and the other slave were gagged as well, their Mistresses using them for degrading little tasks in preparation for the show in a few minutes.

Sara said, “Jenn, I want you to leave that gag alone out there, since you know you can’t get it off, and you’ll only look silly and fidgety playing with it.”

Her voice was so firm and commanding, I knew she was right and that I would be performing completely gagged. I left the locker room, obediently this time, going calmly to my own humiliation. We took our places on the field, and began our routines as if nothing was wrong. Since only half the team was capable of cheering, our efforts were truly pathetic, and I’m sure it didn’t take long for some pervert in the crowd to notice the cherry red balls holding our lips parted and preventing speech. My cheeks slowly warmed in a blush as the evening went on, and I could feel sweat and worse- drool- beading around my gag. It began to dribble down my chin, and I knew the spotlights would reflect of it and the red plastic of my gag, making it even easier to spot from the crowd. I noticed several males standing at the railings of the seats, the kind of people who go to games only to get sexual thrills from us cheerleaders.

Sara began stroking my face lovingly, running her fingers sensually over the ball, performing even more for the crowd. I felt my slit go damp at the sheer helplessness, my lack of power, and the fact that I was involuntarily arousing so many people. Sara pulled on the straps holding the ball into place, making me wince, but the gesture of her possession over me only made my cunt gush more.

After the performance, Sara made me strip for her and was delighted to see my panties were soaked. I pointed at the gag, making helpless pleading moaning noises since my jaw ached, but Sara ignored my cry for help. She rubbed my dripping panties over my face, smearing my own juices over me and began calling me names like “slut” and “little bitch slave”.

Laura laughed, leading an submissive and still gagged Rachel into the shower, and said, “Why don’t you fuck Jenn’s ass since she’s turning into such a whore?”

Sara grinned and laughed, and I knew I was going to be painfully anally raped. She produced handcuffs from her backpack, pulling my head back by my hair and ordering me to put my hands behind my back. I obeyed and wished she didn’t try to force me, since I would do it willingly. I realized what I just thought, and it crushed my mind because I realized I was now truly a slave to Sara’s will.

I put my hands behind my back, tears streaming down my face, and Sara cuffed my hands together. She leaned me over, unbalancing me and making it hard to stand on my own. I felt her hands separating my ass cheeks, and the cold hard plastic probing at my anus. Sara guided it into me carefully, placing just the tip into my pink and clenching asshole. My sphincter, unused to things going into where things had previously only gone out, clenched tightly and pushed Sara’s dildo out of me. Sara laughed and slapped my ass, pushing her finger into my spread slit.

I moaned softly as she wiggled her thumb around inside my pink and tender vagina, unconsciously relaxing my ass. Sara thrust herself inside of me, deep into my ass. The dry plastic in my ass moved slowly, painfully rubbing against my dry anal skin. Sara pulled the dildo out the few inches she had succeeded in inserting it, and my asshole clenched itself tightly. I tried to loosen it to save myself some pain, but the little hole seemed beyond my control.

Sara pushed the cock against my anus again, unable to get it in, and slowly leaned her whole weight against my body. I felt the dildo puncture the tight seal of my ass, widening the hole as it went in. Sara kept pushing, now pulling my body back against her, until the dry dildo sank fully into my asshole. I could feel the tip pushing a wet mass inside my bowls, and I knew my Mistress was hitting shit. The mass moved aside when Sara thrust again, and I felt it travel deeper up into me, seemingly behind my belly button and I feared I would be unable to remove it.

Sara reached the end of the dildo with one final shove, and I had over a foot of hard plastic inside my burning, clenching ass. I could feel the cock stretching me so painfully; my ass feeling like it would tear from the cock inside it. Sara rubbed her dripping pussy on my ass, tickling me and moving the dildo around up inside my ass in unusual ways, and I felt ashamed, yet proud that I could do as my Mistress wished. Sara pulled me over to the bench and sat, dildo firmly inserted up my rectum, pulling me into her lap.

The dildo sank deeper, hitting another angle and pushing past another tight spot in my ass that didn’t want to be invaded, making me cry out in pain. More tears were squeezed from my eyes until I was sobbing like a baby, sitting in my Mistress’s lap with a cock deep inside my ass, poking at my stomach. Sara tugged on my hair, pulling me upwards, and I felt the dildo sliding slowly out of my ass fuckbox. Sara pulled me up until I felt empty, the dildo looming ominously beneath my tender and sore ass. My Mistress let go of me suddenly, dropping my body hard onto the fake cock. I felt the plastic so far inside my body like a searing iron, scarring my ass forever, making it Sara’s.

Her sultry voice broke my thoughts, “Spread your legs my little sluttish Jenn, and start fucking yourself on my cock”

I moaned through my gag, and began slowly lifting myself up and dropping down on the huge cock. Despite the pain and the knowledge that I was truly a slut for doing this, I continued to bounce myself on the cock, feeling a rush of humiliating lust each time it was buried in my ass. I began to lean forward for ease of self-fucking, sending the cock into my sacred, previously protected internal depths over and over. My hair fell over my face, getting wet from the drool leaking from the corners of the gag, and my jaws bounced and burned with each plop I made onto Sara’s lap.

I vaguely heard Sara moaning and giving encouragements, but I as lost in my own world of pain and unique lust. I believe that Sara had cum several times, covering my bottom in her wet juices, but now I was only intent on my own sinful pleasure. Sara reached forward, pressing my cuffed hands against her body, and pulled hard on my nipples, driving the dildo deep into my ass, and I came in a blinding rush, then all was dark.


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