Jenny's Couch, Book 5 Chapter 31

Karen didn't get breakfast. Two deacons bustled into the cell, both large and heavyset with full beards, making the small room very crowded. Karen started to ask, "When do I get to..." when one of the large men brandished a shock stick at her. "Shut it," he said. Karen shut it.

She saw revulsion on their faces as they looked down at her. She knew she must look pretty gross, but there was not even a hint of interest, let alone lust, in their eyes. And without thinking about it, Karen knew why. Karen had developed an excellent if not quite conscious gaydar during her years of trolling the city park for tricks. She had learned that some men just weren't interested in women at all, let alone little girls. She couldn't have explained it but there was something about them that she had come to recognize. If she had met these two on the hidden paths where she used to proposition strangers, she would have let them pass without a word.

Now, neither of the men had many words for Karen. She looked up through her one eye that wasn't gummed shut with dried cum and watched the men pulling on latex gloves. Then their hands were on her, rough and impersonal. One removed the handcuffs. The other lifted her as if she weighed nothing and set her on her feet. Karen wobbled a bit and tried to stretch her arms and work the kinks out of her protesting shoulder joints, but the room was too crowded with the large men standing right up on her. One of them spoke now. "Hands on your head." Karen complied with alacrity, though her shoulders protested and her hands were immediately stuck to her semen-soaked locks.

The two men each wrapped a massive hand around Karen's upper arms and marched her out of the cell. The sticky sounds her feet made peeling off the concrete as she was marched past the other five girls eating their breakfast made her humiliation complete, or so she thought. She tried to catch Rachel's eye with the one of hers she could open but of course the younger girl didn't do eye contact.

The deacons took her to the front of the room but instead of going out the door they took her into a little alcove set to one side of the guarding deacon's desk. There was a toilet and two showerheads. There were no partitions or curtains. The angle meant she wasn't visible to the girls but she was in plain view of the guard's desk and these other two men. The deacons each put a massive hand on her shoulder and pushed her down onto the toilet. The stainless steel was cold on her thighs. "Go," said one of the deacons as they stepped back, still close enough to loom over her. And Karen realized that she needed to go pretty badly, both number one and number two. Considering all the semen she'd had shot up her backside overnight, the number two was going to be messy and noisy - she was a veteran at pooping out the results of anal sex and knew how it went. She looked up at the two men glaring down at her. Her hands were still laced atop her head. "Can you please turn around?" she asked.

The only response she got was one of the two showing her his shock stick again. "Oh jeez," she whimpered, her face flushing. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was at home, alone in the bathroom she shared with Renee. She bore down and the first result was a long, stuttering fart and she felt something liquid spraying out of her asshole. Her face was flaming and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, cutting salty tracks through all the congealed semen caking her face. She proceeded to grunt her way through a loose and copious bowel movement. The smell of poop and stale cum rose up from the bowl, almost gagging her. Yet she sighed with relief as she emptied first her bowels and then her bladder.

When at last she was done she had to force herself to open her eyes to see what she knew she would, the two large deacons looking down at her. At least their faces were impassive, though the guard deacon at his desk behind them was smirking. She looked around for toilet paper as she could feel how messy she was. There was none. It was the last straw. Despite the shock stick and the order to keep her hands on her head, they moved of their own accord. Hanks of her hair clung to her palms and then stuck to her face as she bent from the waist, burying her face in her hands and sobbing.

She wasn't allowed to cry for long. She jumped when she felt those massive hands close around her upper arms again. She stifled a scream and her eye flew open as she was lifted to her feet and bodily carried into the shower stall. One of the men put a bottle of shampoo and a cake of soap on the little shelf in the stall wall. "Clean yourself," he grunted. "Hands above your waist at all times."

Karen didn't even bother to ask how she was supposed to clean below her waist, she was so happy to be able to get clean at all. It seemed like years since she'd last washed. There was no temperature controls, no hot/cold knob for the shower, just a button. She pushed it and gasped as freezing cold water poured out of the showerhead in a stream, not a spray. It was so cold it was almost painful, but it shocked her to full wakefulness and at the same time it was refreshing. She stood still under the stream until her body adjusted enough for her shivering to stop. She opened the shampoo and squeezed the heavily-perfumed gel directly onto her hair and began trying to work her fingers through all the tangles and gluey mess of cum that caked her blond locks into sticky dreads.

By the time her hair was clean, a lot of the slimy goo on Karen's face and body had been rinsed away, but not all. She wished she had a washcloth but she did the best she could with her hands and the poor quality bar soap she'd been given. At last her upper body was as clean as it was going to get. She was too scared to disobey and move her hands below her waist, but she was still very messy there. She had managed to maintain her dignity for these few precious minutes by turning away from the two deacons monitoring her, but now she had no choice but to turn to where they had stood watching her this whole time. "How am I supposed to..." was all she was able to get out before one of them stepped forward, brandishing what she just had time to realize was a toilet brush. He grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, put a hand on the back of her neck and shoved her into the wall. As cold water sprayed on her bare back and ran down, the deacon started scrubbing, jamming the brush against her asshole and roughly scraping the bristles back and forth. Tears of humiliation leaked from Karen's eyes as she was handled like a thing, not a person. Her cheeks and her asshole stung from the stiff, rough bristles applied so vigorously.

Then it got even worse. The deacon spun her around and again clamped a hand around her neck. Not tightly enough to choke her, but enough so that it would if she tried to resist. And he went to work on her cunt, using the toilet brush with the same vigor as he had in cleaning her ass. Karen moaned in pain as the bristles scraped against her labia and her clitoris. After what seemed like far too long the deacon gave attention to the rest of her lower body, not stopping until even the cum between her toes had been scrubbed away. Only then did he release her neck, grabbing her upper arm and passing her to the other deacon. After turning off the shower. The two of them frog-marched her, still dripping wet, to the guard desk where the third deacon was waiting. Shivering in the cool air, Karen was held still while an iron collar was fitted around her neck, covering the leather collar of the infernal device with the wire that ran down to the cap clamped on her clit. It had a ring on the front through which was passed the shackle of a heavy padlock. Before the lock was closed a chain with handcuffs on either edge was passed through it, and then Karen's wrists were locked into the cuffs. The chain was long enough so that she could touch her breasts, or if she pulled it all the way one way or the other so one hand was right up at her neck, she could just reach the top of her mons but no further. "It's like I'm a slave," Karen thought and then realized it was exactly like that. "I'm a slave to these people. They can do whatever they want to me. They've been doing whatever they wanted to me." Fear thrilled through Karen as this realization sank in. She had been through a lot since discovering she was a whore, but she had never doubted that the adults around her - whether they knew she was a whore or not - had her best interests at heart. Her parents, her uncle, her teachers, even Moira, they all wanted her to grow up healthy and happy and they all helped her and protected her in their own ways. (Her customers didn't count, of course. That was just business. She didn't expect the D'Amicos to care about her any more than the guy taking her order at McDonalds would. When one of her customers did show her affection, like Mister Al, that was a bonus.) This place, though - these people didn't care about her. To them she was just a thing to be used. All the kids here was just things, from which the pastor and the deacons extracted money (via their parents) and labor. Karen was no different, except her labor was sex. That's what a whore did, but they weren't paying.

All these thoughts spun around and around in Karen's head so that she hardly noticed when she was led out into the chilly dawn. Cold mist settled on her bare skin and the gravel on the path bit into her tender soles, so that she shivered and whimpered as she was hustled along by the two deacons. She knew it was pointless to ask for shoes on her feet or a warm robe for her body, but now she understood why. Slaves get what they get, no matter what they want.

Karen started as she was led off the gravel paths that criss-crossed the compound and found herself walking through dewy grass. Up ahead she saw a group of people. They were heading up the hill that backed onto the compound, towards the heavy woods that marched down to meet the high, razor wire-topped fence. As Karen and her guards drew closer she saw that there were three deacons but the rest of the group, some dozen in number, were boys. Karen had only seen the outside of the building labeled the boys' dormitory and so far the only males she had seen were all staff. Karen looked over the group as she was marched up to join them. The boys were mostly older than her. They looked tired and dispirited. The deacons guarding them swaggered around.

As her guards marched her up to the group, desultory conversation ceased as one after another the teen boys realized they were being joined by a naked girl. Karen felt their eyes boring into her and even in this terrible situation she felt a surge of pride that she was desirable to these older boys. Attracting adult men was trivial, she had learned, she only needed to be female and underage and available, but high school boys had higher standards.

"Listen up!" one of the deacons barked. "I have good news and bad news for you little twerps. The bad news is, there will be no extra television today for completing your quota." There was a chorus of groans, quickly stifled. "The good news is, instead of tv you get to fuck this little whore." A dozen pairs of eyes went wide, and a dozen jaws dropped. Karen felt herself coloring as the boys' scrutiny was riveted to her bare body. "Or, she thinks she's a whore," the deacon continued. "But that's not for you to worry about. What is it, Jeremy?"

One of the boys had tentatively raised his hand. "Why is she chained up like that?"

"Because she's a chronic masturbator," the deacon asked, and Karen's blush deepened at the wave of laughter this triggered. "Shaddup!" the deacon barked and instantly the laughter stopped. "Like each of you little bastards isn't. Now c'mon. Sooner you get your work done, sooner you can get your dick wet." Karen was pushed into line behind the boys and they continued up the hill. After being locked in a concrete box for much of the day, Karen felt herself relaxing as the cool breeze played across her naked body. Her feet were wet with dew and the long grass tickled. Her nipples stiffened, standing out and coloring until they were the size and shade of white cherries. She felt a little chill on her vulva and thighs, and realized she was lubricating. She found herself falling into a reverie as she walked, remembering some of her favorite fucks and she felt herself getting juicier. She squeezed her thighs together, wondering if she could make the device hurt her just by fantasizing.

Her thoughts were cut short by a jerk at her iron collar. They had arrived and one of the deacons had pulled her to a stop. There were at the edge of the part of the woods that were inside the compound's fence. There was a large cart full of hoes and rakes and one of the other deacons was passing them out to the boys. "Gimme your foot," the deacon commanded. Puzzled, Karen raised one leg. The deacon grabbed her ankle and yanked it upwards, causing Karen to almost lose her balance. As she hopped to keep from falling she heard a familiar "snick!" and looked up to see the deacon had fastened a shackle around her leg. It was on a chain and the next thing she knew Karen was walk-skipping to stay upright as the deacon pulled her over to a large tree. The chain was wrapped around the tree trunk and fastened with a heavy padlock. "Stay," the deacon sneered and turned his back on her to join his partners. Karen found herself chained to the tree with no more than three or four feet of freedom. Sighing, she put her bare back against the rough bark and lowered herself to a sitting position. She spent a few futile minutes sliding the chain that bound her hands back and forth, trying to see if she could contort her body so that she could reach her cunt with even one finger. It was maddening, she could get so close but no matter how she tried her groping digits always fell just short. At least she could reach her titties. Playing with her sensitive nipples was both pleasurable and frustrating, but she closed her eyes, opened her legs to the rising sun and felt herself start to leak onto the dirt. Meanwhile, the boys began chopping at the brush growing out from the edge of the woods, hacking at it with hoes and then raking it into a pile. Karen continued to caress and pinch her nipples and play with her breasts. She was still no happier about being a prisoner, but being naked outside and in front of strangers was so completely normalized in her life and the shame and humiliation she felt so deeply buried that she was able to close her eyes and simply enjoy the animal pleasure of the sun's warmth on her bare body, the roughness of the tree bark against her back, the heavy feeling inside her as the wetness of her arousal oozed from between her labia and began to puddle in the dirt beneath her butt.

At some point she must have dozed because she was startled awake by a deacon's boot kicking her bare foot. "Wake up, slut," he sneered. "It's time for you to get to work." Karen looked up to see a rawboned older teenager blocking her view of the sun.

He was tall and broad-shouldered with a blond crewcut and coarse, heavy-browed features. Right now his face was twisted in an expression Karen found all-too-familiar. He wanted her. "Hiiii," she lilted, pasting a professional smile across her face. She shook out her still-damp hair and ran her hands through it. She got up on her knees and stretched her hands forward as far as the chain connecting them to her iron collar would let her. "I bet you have a really nice cock. Take it out! Take it out and show me your big cock!" The boy wasted no time, yanking his jeans open and pulling a rapidly-swelling penis out of his underpants. Karen knee-walked forward until she could grasp the penis in her hands, peel back the foreskin and pull it into her mouth. The boy was sweaty and his junk was unwashed but Karen ignored the unpleasant taste and started sucking greedily. Her eyes closed and she made little "mmm-mmm" sounds as drool escaped the corners of her mouth. But it wasn't thirty seconds before she felt the boy's cock begin to twitch under her oral assault. She quickly pressed a thumb against the base of the shaft right at his scrotum and pulled off with a pop of a seal breaking. "Not so fast," she chuckled, looking the boy in his burning eyes. "You have to fuck me. Get down here and fuck my whore cunt!"

Buttons popped as the boy tore off his shirt, he nearly fell down pulling his trousers off over his worn work boots, and then he threw himself on Karen, bearing her backwards into the dirt. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed them hard, making her yelp in pain. She grabbed his wrists and tried to pry him loose but she couldn't budge him. As he mauled Karen's titties his hips were gyrating, making his erection bounce and flail wildly as he tried to put it some place that it had, Karen would bet, never ever been before. She tried to reach down and grab it but the chains around her wrists brought her up short. Finally by pulling the chain through so one hand was jammed up by her chin, she was able to reach down far enough that on one of his wild swings she was able to grab his scrotum. She squeezed it, not hard, just enough to get his attention. He froze, his eyes watering. "Take it easy," Karen begged him. "Look," she canted her hips upwards. "See the little hole there, at the bottom of the slit?" The boy's eyes were wide. Karen was now sure he'd never even seen a pussy before, let alone been inside one. "Do you see it?" she insisted. The boy gulped and nodded. Karen smiled her empty smile again. "That's where that beautiful cock of yours goes. Now gentlAAAAIE!" Target acquired, the boy had of course just jammed it right in there.

Now Karen had his big, work-roughened hands mauling her breasts as well as his cock hammering against her cervix. Fortunately she had already been pretty wet so at least he slid right in without tearing anything. Despite his utter lack of technique, the friction against her clit was all it took for pleasure to kindle in her cunt and wash through her whole body. She went hot and cold and her nipples were suddenly ultrasensitive and she moaned as the boy's palms slid over them. The sound of the boy slamming his body against hers got wet and squelchy as Karen's love honey, hot and thick, poured out of her. Karen felt the heat rising in her cunt, felt her clitoris swelling and pulsing, felt her asshole start to twitch as her pelvic muscles tightened, felt the orgasm ready to burst over her and "OWWWWW!" she cried as the infernal device stabbed pain into the tip of her clitoris, a pain that shot back and up inside her, quelling her arousal. But the boy's mechanical thrusting immediately brought it roaring back, the heat filling Karen up, making her limbs tingle and twitch. But the device reacted immediately too, turning her moan to a shriek as even more intense agony made her entire lower body cramp and seize. Tears filled her eyes as the boy loomed over her and froze. Through the throbbing, sickening pain she felt the boy inseminating her, felt the wet heat spread through her vagina, soothing her but without release. She was gasping, fighting for breath as the boy, suddenly embarrassed, pulled out and groped for his clothing. His drooping erection dribbled slime onto Karen's belly.

Karen rolled onto her side and curled up around the pain. She closed her eyes, waiting for the deep, throbbing ache to subside. As the pain lessened she found herself rubbing her thighs together, enjoying the way her labia majora slid against each other, sliding in the gooey mess seeping from her vagina. Before long she was contorting her legs, trying to extend the pressure and motion to her erect clitoris. She found that by lifting one leg so her knee almost touched her nose, then tensing and relaxing her thigh muscles very quickly, she could transmit the vibration to her pleasure bud. It wasn't nearly enough to slake her desire but the quest to coax as much sensation as she could kept her occupied until again she was startled by a kick, not exactly gentle, but not hard, this time on her butt. She rolled over on her back. This time the deacon was holding a boy. Definitely a boy, not a nearly-grown teen, he was Karen's age at the most, maybe younger. His cheeks were rosy and his lips red and full, a boy on the cusp of puberty. And he looked scared, not eager. "I...I don't want to," he said, speaking to the toes of his worn sneakers.

Karen was startled by the ferocity with which the deacon gripped the boy's neck and shook him, literally shook him like a baby. "I ask you what you wanted?" the deacon said. When the boy didn't respond he shook him again, harder. "Did I?"

"No," the boy said sulkily than "AAA!" when the deacon stuck his shock stick into the boy's belly.

"No, WHAT?" the deacon demanded.

"No, sir," the boy said, trying to stifle sobs.

"Everyone knows why you're here, Jeremy." The deacon made the name sound like an insult. "You're here because you're a little faggot, and your mama doesn't want any dick-sucking faggot in her family, isn't that right?"

Looking up from the ground, Karen could see sulky defiance in the boy's teary eyes. She saw the way the deacon was holding the shock stick, moving it in little circles, could tell that he was just itching to use it more. She silently implored the boy not to sass back, but she saw he couldn't help himself, no more than she would've been able to. "That's her hard fucking luck then, isn't iIIIIIIAAAIIEEE!" the boy screamed as, grinning evilly, the deacon upped the power on his weapon and drove it into the boy's belly again. The boy doubled over and fell to his knees, sobbing.

The deacon kicked him in the side. "You talk real big, faggot, but you got nothin' to back it up, do you? You're just a pathetic little sissy. We're gonna cure you of that, yes we will." He turned his head. "Clete! Aaron!" Two of the other boys dropped their hoes and came hustling over. "Yes, sir!" they chorused together.

"Get this little faggot's clothes off," the deacon ordered. "Our little whore's gonna fuck the sin right out of him." Karen couldn't tell if Clete and Aaron were thoroughly cowed by the deacon, which she could completely understand, or if they actually enjoyed humiliating the younger boy. Either way, they easily overpowered him and despite his screams of outrage and desperation, he was soon rendered naked, left curled up on the ground, trying to hide himself as much as possible.

Karen froze as the deacon turned his malevolent gaze on her. "What're you waiting for, you fuckin' whore. Show us what a great fuck you are - you screw this boy straight and his mama'll probably give you a reward."

When Karen hesitated, the deacon held the business end of the shock stick in front of her face. She went stiff with terror, watching the spark jump between the prongs. The deacon's voice crackled with menace. "I said, what're you waiting for?"

"N...n...nothing," Karen stammered out, rolling up to a sitting position, then trying to crawl over to where the little boy was lying in the dirt, sobbing. She was brought up short by the shackle around her ankle. The deacon, laughing, used his boot to shove the boy into Karen's reach.

The boy flinched when Karen put her hand on his thigh. "P...p...please," he stuttered as she slid her hand up until her thumb just brushed against his penis. His crotch was hairless, his penis pink and smooth with only the lightest visible fuzz on his scrotum. His penis was limp and bloodless, but as Karen put her thumb on the underside and slid it gently up and down, up and down, it began to thicken and stiffen. The boy looked at her with a mixture of pleading and horror. Karen had no trouble believing the boy was gay, the deacon had taken such malicious glee in announcing it, and she felt nothing but pity for him being put in this horrible place for something he couldn't change, but at the same time she didn't dare disobey. Her mind flashed back to another time, another child, Lilah pleading with her not to make her drink the bowl full of semen and urine, the way the condoms looked floating on top of the viscid mess, Moira standing over them both, the fear and disgust Karen felt. She'd wanted to protect Lilah. She was her babysitter, it was her job to protect her. But then Moira would have made her take the punishment and it was so much easier just to obey.

It was so much easier to obey. Karen crawled up the boy's legs until her mouth hovered over his half erect penis. She blew on it softly, saw it twitch and rise. She looked up into the boy's tearstained face. "Close your eyes," she whispered. "Imagine I'm your boyfriend. It'll be over soon." And with that she lowered her head and sucked the small penis into her mouth. It tasted like the soap she had scrubbed with earlier. It shot to full hardness as she laved it with her tongue and the boy groaned. His voice was high, not broken yet. Karen let her hair fall around her face, giving her a blessed moment of privacy, a moment when she could pretend she was anywhere else, back home or at the townhouse, sucking a dick because she wanted to and a dick that wanted to be sucked, not here chained up like a slave. Her hands were on the boy's stomach and she felt him groan as much as she heard it. It was a sound she knew so well, that groan of pleasure, had heard it in hundreds of different voices, had tasted hundreds of different penises and felt them twitching against her lips and tongue.

But her moment of respite didn't last. She cried in pain and her eyes filled with tears as a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head up. She found herself staring right into the deacon's evil face. "Not good enough, whore. Fuck him. Now!"

Karen's tears fell into her long blond hair. "I'm sorry," she whispered, not knowing if the boy could even hear her, as she crawled up and let her bare skin rub against his. She hid inside her hair, unable to look at the betrayal and anguish on the boy's face as she squatted over his skinny prick, pulled the chain so her left hand rose up and pressed against her chin, stretched her right hand until she could just grasp the bright red head of Jeremy's penis between her second and third fingers to aim it, and slowly lowered herself. "Ahhh," she sighed, despite herself feeling the pleasure as the hard little spike nudged between her labia and slid into her. "Nonono," she whispered, closing her eyes and wishing she could close her ears to shut out the boy's whimpering as she slowly gyrated her hips, feeling the hot penis move inside her, feeling her clitoris swell and her cunt clench around the invader. With each tiny motion the pleasure rose inside her, the heat radiating out from the union of the two children, burning hotter and hotter.

Karen screamed as the device clamped onto her clit fired and pain shot through her. Her cunt clamped down on the penis inside her and the boy attached to it yelped and bucked as his immature body was gripped by his dry orgasm. The violent motion of his penis inside her spiked her pleasure, overcoming the pain and she felt herself teetering on the edge of an orgasm when the device fired again, and this time the pain was so intense that her body jackknifed, her forehead slamming down into the boy's face so hard it dazed her. She fell beside him, rolling into a tight ball around the bright agony burning in her clitoris and inside her, gasping and crying as the stabbing slowly faded into the low, hard, throbbing ache that she had not been completely free of since the first time the device had triggered. When she could open her eyes she clawed her tangled blond locks away from her face and tried to blink her eyes into focus. She realized she was almost nose-to-nose with the boy. Blood ran from his nostril. His eyes were open but she could tell he didn't see her. There was such a look of desolation and despair on his face that Karen closed her eyes again. It wasn't right for her to see him - for anyone to see anyone - with such naked pain exposed. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, and she wasn't sure if she was speaking to the boy, or to Lilah, or to Moira, or to herself. She curled herself around the pain, and when she could open her eyes again, she saw Jeremy scurrying away into the woods, his clothes a sloppy bundle in his arms.

Karen was given no time to recover. The two teens who had stripped Jeremy fell on her like animals. Clete or Aaron - she never learned who was who - was a squat, heavyset boy with a patchy beard and a thick black unibrow. He squatted over her head and rolled her onto her back, pinning her with his knees digging into her upper arms and stretching the chain connecting her wrists to its limit. It hurt, and the chain connecting her cuffed wrists cut into her neck, making it hard to breathe. Aaron or Clete was tall but he stood oddly and as her eyes traveled up and down Karen realized that one of his legs was shorter than the other - one shoe had a built-up sole to make up the difference. He didn't take them off. He didn't take off his shirt. He didn't take off his pants, just pulled them open to release a long, thick, achingly hard penis, with a pronounced bend to Karen's left. He thumped down into the dirt, grabbed Karen's knee and rolled her from lying on her hip to flat on her back, spreading her wide. Karen felt the cool air as her labia parted to expose her wetness and, to her embarrassment, more juice bubbled out of her with a prolonged queef. She tried to cover her face but with her arms spread and pinned her hands jerked to a stop and though she tugged at the cuffs on her wrists, the steel was unyielding.

Karen tried to tell Clete or Aaron that there was no need to hold her down, that she was eager to be a whore for him and his partner, but before she could speak she felt Aaron or Clete's cock press against her opening and then the head slipped into her. Her breath huffed out with the shock of pleasure. The cockhead was thick enough to stretch her to the limit and it was rough around the crown, almost like her little sister's cock with the tiny spikes, but this penis was hot, hot enough that it felt like the sunlight on her bare crotch as it slid inside her. Karen moaned, long and low, as she felt it opening her up, stretching her and filling her. The boy started stroking and Karen blushed at the obscene noises of his rod agitating her love honey to a foamy mess. She felt herself carried on a rising tide of pleasure, lifting her higher, higher, up into the sky...and then Karen floated away. She was so high up that not even the stabs of pain from the device disturbed her. She felt them, she felt everything, she felt the way the device forestalled her orgasms, felt the terrible frustration building inside her, felt the desperate need to reach that beautiful peak. She watched herself get fucked over and over as the morning passed into afternoon, saw her spreading her legs in welcome to each of the teens and then saw her body writhing in agony as the device hurt her over and over...but she was somewhere far away, far above, where she could look down on herself and nothing bothered her at all.

Karen came back to herself slowly. The boys were gathering up their tools and stacking them in the cart they'd taken them from. She was sprawled in the dirt with her legs spread almost perpendicular to her body. Her hip joints protested when she closed them. She was covered with sweat and dirt and bits of stray plant matter. Her vulva was sticky with cum and prickly with rash and it itched fiercely. She felt sore inside, the good kind of sore that came from having so much sex, so many cocks plunging in and out of her thirteen-year-old vagina, but that was nothing compared to the result of the repeated activations of the device. Her clit...was like nothing she had ever felt before. Like the strep throat at age 6 that had put her in the hospital, except on her clit, and even worse. The ache inside her spread all the way up her spine and down to her knees, a bone-deep pain that made her whimper with every move she made.

Karen tried to sit up, failed, had to roll over and slowly push herself up to hands and knees. She felt cool air on the wet mess of her vulva and ass, felt trails of sex juices oozing down the insides of her thighs. Her bound hands were a hindrance but she managed to push herself up to a kneeling position and sat back with her ass on her bare feet. A wave of dizziness passed over her. She was trying to finger-comb her hair back into some semblance of order, picking out twigs and leaves, when a shadow fell across her. She looked up at the deacon and gulped. "On your feet, whore," he demanded. Karen tried to stand but her knees gave out and she collapsed back into the little puddle of muddy semen and cunt juice that marked her day so far.

The deacon barked an order and Karen felt herself lifted up by two of the teen boys. She groaned as the pain shot up her spine and all the way down to her feet, centering on the deep, deep ache in her clit and back through her center. It felt like someone was pushing a power drill into her abdomen, over and over. She tried to keep her feet under her but all her joints protested. She stumbled and couldn't seem to recover. In the end, the boys were dragging her with hands clasped tightly around her upper arms. She let her head hang down, and her tears wet the thick curtain of her blond hair.

Karen raised her head when her progress stopped. They had reached the foot of the hill and were back among the buildings of the camp. The boys had, thankfully, not dragged her feet onto the gravel path. "I got her," she heard the deacon say and then without warning she was swung up and found herself hanging down over the man's shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Christ, you're a mess!" he exclaimed, and Karen yelped as he spanked her, hard. "I'll have to throw this shirt out." Karen's face flamed as she realized cum was still oozing out of her, soaking the shoulder of the deacon's shirt.

"You get these little fuckers fed and locked down," the deacon carrying her instructed. "Then y'all can come join the rest of us." He slapped Karen's ass again. "Our little whore's going to get to meet everyone now."