Jessica’s butt cheeks slipped frictionlessly against one another as she climbed out of the back seat of the Volvo. The slick sensation on her backside, caused by the handfuls of petroleum jelly that an hour earlier she had let a stranger smear all around and inside her ass, caused Jessica to adopt an awkward, bow-legged gait as she followed her kidnappers (for this was how she was beginning to think of Shannon and the three frat boys who had driven her out to the middle of nowhere and subjected her to repeated degradations) towards the run-down reception building of the seedy motel.
Jessica was still reeling from the revelation that Nick and his pals were not driving her to the cabin owned by the Theta Theta Psi sorority, that she was instead trapped with them all weekend, subject to who-knew-what further torments.
So far that day, Jessica had been forced to submit to three public spankings. She had allowed two strange men at a gas station to fondle her naked breasts. She had taken off all her clothes in front of a roomful war veterans and entertained them by simulating oral sex on an empty beer bottle. What would tomorrow bring? How far would Shannon let these boys take this supposed initiation?
The reception desk was manned by a crusty-looking old man with thick glasses and a thin grey moustache. He looked startled when the five of them crowded in and quickly folded away a magazine that he had been pursuing. Nick approached the desk. He had apparently called ahead, and the hotel manager—O’Reilly Nick was calling him—found their reservation and was shuffling through some paperwork when Jessica noticed that Nick was gesturing towards her.
“ . . . kind of a sorority initiation trip,” Nick was telling the manager. “I just wanted to make sure we could use some of the common areas in case we need to perform some, you know, rituals . . .”
Jessica had gotten so used to the sight of the wooden Theta paddle in Nick’s hand that she had barely noticed that he’d taken it with him to check into the motel. But Mr. O’Reilly noticed, and his eyes wandered from the wooden implement across to where Jessica’s voluptuous figure shuffled nervously by the door. The manager cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Urm, now just what . . . what kind of ‘rituals’ that’d be?” he asked.
“Well, Jessica loves to show off, so we’ve been mainly doing some photo shoots. Couple of live performances. Tell Mr. O’Reilly about the show you put on in Millard, Jess.”
Jessica glanced around the room. Everyone looked at her expectantly. Her first instinct was to shrug silently and look away, but she was terrified that Nick was going to turn this into another scene. What did he want her to say?
“I. . . I danced . . .” she choked out finally.
“What kind of dance, Jess?” Nick coaxed.
“S-strip dance?” Jessica squeaked, hoping this was the answer Nick was fishing for.
“Alright. Yeah. A ‘strip dance.’ As you can probably tell, Jessica has some killer tits. Just incredible. You should have seen this roomful of guys go crazy when she took off her shirt and started wiggling them around. Sometimes, though, Jessica gets a little bratty and needs some punishment. Isn’t that right, Jess?”
Jessica looked at the floor. She nodded hesitantly.
“I said ‘isn’t that right, Jess?’”
“Yes . . . sir,” she whispered, hoping not to give Nick any excuse to say she was being uncooperative.
“And how did you get punished after your strip tease?”
“A spanking, sir,” she muttered, her cheeks burning in humiliation.
“Where did you receive this spanking?”
“On the pool table . . .”
Dylan chuckled. Nick grinned too, but then said “no” in a firm voice. Jessica hurriedly corrected herself.
“I mean, on my . . . on my b-bottom, my bare b-bottom?”
“That’s right. Jessica’s naked ass took quite a paddling about an hour ago. You want to see how it’s healing up, Mr. O’Reilly?”
The hotel manager appeared flustered.
“Well, I . . . you know . . .”
“Jessica turn around and pull down your pants and panties,” Nick instructed.
Jessica looked up into the hotel manager’s eyes, pleadingly, hoping for some sign of sympathy, some hint of rescue. But Mr. O’Reilly was busily running his eyes down the contours of the beautiful co-ed’s body, his jaw hanging open.
Not finding any avenue of escape and desperate not to endure another of Nick’s chastisements, Jessica slowly turned around. She looked out the window nervously, but the darkened parking lot appeared to be empty. Choking back a sob, she reached down and unbuttoned her jeans. She slid the zipper down, and, taking a deep breath, she hooked her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties and pulled both her jeans and underwear over her ass and down to mid-thigh. Her panties made a soft slurping sound as they were peeled away from the Vaseline that had glued them firmly to Jessica’s skin.
“Hoo . . . hoo, that’s nice . . .” Jessica heard the hotel manager say under his breath.
“Hold your shirt up,” Nick ordered her. “It’s covering some of your behind.”
Wincing, Jessica complied, tugging her blouse up to her belly button and holding it there, letting the old man behind the counter and the rest of the room drink in a long look at her naked bottom. With the faint pink marks that were still visible from her paddling at the VFW and the shiny film of the Vaseline that still coated her cheeks, Jessica’s full, round ass appeared to glow in the motel’s fluorescent light.
“Still looks like you might be a little tender back there, Jess,” Nick said, walking up behind her and, to her dismay, placing a hand on one of her nude butt cheeks and giving it a squeeze.
“Urm, yes . . .” Mr. O’Reilly said, clearing his throat, “I think we can find a place for you folks to do your, urm, rituals . . . shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks, Mr. O’Reilly,” said Nick. “I’d love to do a photo shoot out by the pool tomorrow. That’ll be fun, right, Jess? Say, before you pull your pants back up, I wanted to ask this gentleman’s opinion on something. Keep your hands where they are, and I want you to turn around.”
Jessica shuddered, but after a momentary hesitation, she began to shuffle her feet, her jeans, bunched around her knees, restricting the movement of her legs. She shuffled in in a clumsy semi-circle until she was facing the reception desk. Her hands continued to hold the bottom of her blouse around her mid-torso in a white-knuckle grip, making it seem as if she was showing off her naked crotch to the room.
“Now, don’t get me wrong,” said Nick, “I’ve seen thicker jungles around a chick’s pubic area. I think this blonde bush of Jessica’s is actually kind of cute . . .”
Then, to Jessica’s horror, Nick reached a hand out towards her exposed vagina. She recoiled, shuffling backwards a step, but at the last moment she fought off the instinct to drop her blouse, to slap his hand away and cover herself. Instead, she steadied herself and froze stock still, unable to process the humiliating invasion that was about to occur.
Nick made no comment about Jessica’s aborted attempt to dodge his touch. He reached out and gave her pubic hair an exploratory brush with his hand, as if testing its softness, before grabbing ahold of a tuft of hair and giving it a light, demonstrative tug.
“. . . But this isn’t the 1970’s, you know what I mean? I think Jessica ought to trim down before we do her modeling shots. What do you think, Mr. O’Reilly? Brazilian? Landing strip? Or maybe just totally shaved?”
“Well, urm . . . that’s a, uh . . . I think- Well, I think she’d look awful sexy just bare, I guess.”
“I like the way you think, sir,” said Nick. “Bare pussy it is, Jess. We’ll pick you up some shaving stuff first thing tomorrow.”
With that, he relinquished his grip on Jessica’s pubes and allowed her to pull her pants back up. Grabbing the room keys from the stunned hotel manager, Nick took Jessica by the elbow and led her out the door.
Nick pointed out the rooms. He and Shannon would take 104. Dylan and Matt in 105. Jessica in 106.
Jessica was surprised, grateful even. Since she’d learned the group would be stopping for the night, she’d been speculating with acute trepidation about the sleeping arrangements. That she’d be getting her own room was a relief. Perhaps Nick felt that he couldn’t guarantee her safety for an entire night in a room with the other guys? Her insides convulsed at the thought: was Nick—her tormentor-in-chief—the only thing keeping her from being raped by one of the other two frat boys?
Shannon, looking increasingly unsteady on her feet, retired immediately to her room. The boys walked Jessica over to Room 106, Matt chivalrously carrying her suitcase.
After they’d escorted her into her room and Matt had set her suitcase down, Jessica regarded the three young men awkwardly, desperately hoping that they would now leave her alone for the night, allowing her some time to think over her situation. Instead, Matt and Dylan hung around expectantly in the doorway while Nick strolled around the hotel room, flipping on lights and generally taking in the space as if evaluating the quality of the establishment.
“Not the Ritz, but it’ll do for the night, right Jess?” he said.
“Y-yes, sir,” Jessica said, fixing her eyes on the shag carpeting at her feet.
“Well, we’ll let you get some rest. We want you looking your best for your modeling shots tomorrow,” Nick said.
Jessica nodded, her heart racing at the thought that the solitude she craved might be within sight. Nick turned and appeared to be heading for the door. He picked up the TV remote as he passed it, and casually turned on the television sitting on the dresser. The speakers kicked in at a jarring volume, but. Nick set the remote down without adjusting the sound.
“Before you go to bed, though, I wanted to give you one more test of obedience. Just to see what you’ve learned today. Don’t worry. It’ll be quick.”
Jessica gulped, keeping her eyes on the floor. What was he going to make her do? Pull out her tits again for the private viewing pleasure of his horny friends? Bend over so he could spank her again? Whatever it was, she prayed it really would be over quickly.
“All I want you to do is put your blindfold back on and just kneel down on the floor right where you are,” Nick told her, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the blaring television.
From out of his pocket, Nick pulled the cloth blindfold that Jessica had been forced to wear when they first set out on this terrible road trip. Jessica just stood frozen in place as Nick walked up behind her and placed the blindfold over her eyes, tying it firmly behind her head. She heard the door creak and slam shut, and she knew that she was alone, completely blind and helpless, in this tiny hotel room with three men.
“Ok, kneel down right there.”
Nick pressed down on Jessica’s shoulders, guiding her gently to the floor. Trembling, she kneeled down on the carpet, her butt coming to rest on her calves. Nick placed a hand under her chin and guided her face upwards so that she was looking blindly up towards the ceiling.
“There you go. Now that’s all you have to do. Just hold that position for a minute or two. Don’t move. I’ll tell you when you can stand up.”
She could feel someone step up next to her, and she heard some rustling around, though it was tough to figure out what was going on against the noise of the television. Jessica braced herself for something awful to happen, for someone to grab her or tear at her clothes. But nothing happened.
Jessica’s fear started to give way to confusion. What seemed like a minute or two passed, while Jessica simply knelt on the floor expectantly, staring into the blackness of the blindfold and listening to the sounds from the television. Her legs began to fall asleep, but she forced herself to maintain the position that Nick had instructed.
Then, suddenly, something wet struck Jessica’s cheek. One drop, then two, then a third hitting her on the side of her nose. She heard someone let out a short grunt.
“Don’t move, Jessica,” Nick was telling her, “Don’t move an inch out of that position if you don’t want to be punished.”
Jessica felt something ooze its way off of her nose and roll down her face towards the side of her mouth. Her stomach dropped. What had just happened? Then a sickening thought occurred to her. Was this substance . . . was it semen? Had she just let one of these boys cum on her face?
Even if she hadn’t been afraid to disobey Nick’s instructions, Jessica would have been too shocked to move. She maintained her kneeling position on the floor, looking upwards, nauseatingly aware of the sticky substance clinging to the side of her pretty face.
Jessica’s ears honed in on a faint, rhythmic sound of which she’d only been dimly conscious before, and she was suddenly certain that one of the other boys had begun masturbating next to her, his naked penis probably hovering right next to her face. A moment later removed all doubt, as suddenly a new glob of wetness, this one much more voluminous than the last, struck Jessica on her forehead. Another drop hit her just below the blindfold and began to run down her cheek, only to be joined by yet another massive splotch splattering goo across her upper lip.
The scent of the ejaculate assaulted Jessica’s nostrils, making her stomach heave. She worried she might simply vomit right there, but, aside from some mild trembling, she maintained her position, knowing that there was still one more unseen man who expected to relieve himself across her face.
It seemed like a lifetime that Jessica knelt there, feeling the semen congeal on her cheeks, staring upwards as if waiting eagerly for her innocent visage to be despoiled once more. Finally, though, the third wave of cum rained down on her, this time hitting her square in the mouth. Jessica squeezed her lips tight, desperate to keep any of the noxious fluid from seeping inside. Another glob struck her mouth. Then another on the chin. Then a long, sticky string that hit the corner of her mouth and stretched down to her jaw.
There was a moment of terrible stillness. Jessica maintained her subservient position, her blindfolded, cum-splattered face staring mutely upwards, her jaw trembling beneath her fiercely pinched lips. Jessica imagined the boys zipping themselves up, perhaps smirking to one another and pointing at her shameful, semen-stained appearance, perhaps . . . oh god . . . perhaps taking pictures of her, preserving her humiliation on film.
Finally, the television was switched off, plunging the room into silence. The door creaked open.
“Hope you enjoyed your nightcap, Jess,” she heard Nick say from the doorway, “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
The door slammed shut. Jessica sat frozen in place, unable to process, as the cum crawled down her cheeks.