Ulrika's Tormented Tits...Ulrika's Revenge 1-6

[davesmistress]

Ulrika's Tormented Tits.
-------------------------------

Carol Vorderman sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the
second of her thigh length pvc boots. She stood up and looked
herself up and down in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, quite
nice and slutty in fact. Hair loose, dramatic make-up, a slash
of red lipstick, shoulders bare on account of the black and red
basque she was wearing, no knickers at all, freshly shaved cunt
smooth and clean, and about three inches of fishnet stockings
visible above the top of the aforementioned boots, which were
black, shiny and tight fitting. She was dressed to entertain,
she thought, then smiled to herself. Well, dressed to BE entertained,
more like. She'd better get on, she thought, because the guest of
honour was already here, down in the basement. Stepping into the
hall and down the stairs she steadied herself on the bannister
with the one hand, stroking her pussy lips gently, excited about
what was about to come. As she reached the door to the basement,
she remembered back to the start of this encounter...

Carol had been in a position of control over the careers of
most of the female TV presenters for a good few years now. She had
attained that position of power by a clever mixture of favours and
blackmail. She would promise to help a budding TV starlet up the
ladder of success in return for, say, a sex show involving
masturbation with toys, and then, once she'd used her influence
to get the "victim" onto the TV in some small way, she'd reveal to
them that she'd secretly videotaped the whole session, and that
she'd help them get better and bigger jobs, but they HAD to put up
with her rather extreme tastes, or they'd find that the videotape
would fall into the hands of the press, apparently stolen from "an
old boyfriend". Virtually all of them gave in and went along with
it, indeed, some of them, such as Philippa Forrester, had confessed
to enjoying the same kind of fetishes as she, and relished the
chance to share them with another woman.

The one fly in the ointment was Ulrika Jonsson. Carol had never
quite been able to find a way to get her under her control. She
thought she would have a chance in the early 90's, when Ulrika's
career had faltered, but then Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer had come
along with that fucking Shooting Stars programme, and up went Ulrika's
profile again. She knew for a fact that Ulrika had only got onto that
show by allowing them to fuck her - Ulrika on all fours, and one
"servicing" her at either end was the favoured scenario, she'd heard,
and once, when Carol was a guest on the show, Ulrika had told her in
confidence that under her make-up she was doing the programme with
someone's dried cum all over her face as a bet... and Carol had a good
idea whose.
Trouble was, there was no hard proof, no polaroids, no video, no
secretly recorded audio that she could use. Direct action, she'd decided,
was the only way. She'd taken great pains to find out which parties
Ulrika was going to be at, which gala's she was going to attend, and
gradually made her way into Ulrika's circle, until at one party she was
able to slip the sedative into Ulrika's drink. It had worked quickly
enough, and within fifteen minutes found herself excusing the two of them
from the party, while holding an apparently drunk Ulrika up with one
arm around her waist.
"I'd better take her back to my place, to sleep it off" was the last thing
Ulrika heard before she had lapsed into unconciousness.
Now, though Carol, let's see if she's awake yet...

Carol opened the door to the basement and stepped in. Ulrika, naked,
still unconcious, was chained to a cross, which was in the X position.
A chain around each wrist secured her arms, with the same arrangement
for her feet. Around her waist was a three-inch wide black leather
belt, which was attached to the cross by a brass ring and sturdy bolt.
Time to wake her up, Carol thought. She picked up the bucket of cold
water, and swinging her arm back and then sharply forward, splashed
the freezing contents over Ulrika, covering her from head to toe.
Ulrika awoke with a start, gasping, a shocked look on her face.

"Oh - you're awake then" said Carol, smiling with pleasure at the
startled look on Ulrika's face.
"Wh-what the fuck's going on - what am I doing here? ...Why are you
dressed like that? What's happening?!"
"Well, my dear", Carol said, "I thought it was about time you were
taught that I rule the roost in tellytown, I decide if someone's
career goes well or not, and YOU should realise that you can't go on
doing what you like, you've got to have my OK."
Ulrika shook her head, angrily. "But you can't make ME do anything -
why should I? You've got no hold on me!"
"On the contrary my dear," replied Carol, "I think you'll find THESE
will change your opinion about that."

She held out several polaroids for Ulrika to see. In them, Urika was
pictured laying on a bed, eyes closed, legs open, while a black man
probed her cunt with his fingers, and used various sex toys on her,
including, in one photo, a big black dildo up her arse.
" Is that...Stan? I don't remember these..." Ulrika asked, voice
trembling a little.
"No", replied Carol,"It's not your ex-boyfriend, but it IS a good look
alike, who was VERY pleased to help out, as you can imagine. You were
still out cold when I had these taken. Our friend there will keep quiet,
but can you imagine what would happen to your career if these photo's of
you apparently being Stan Collymore's sex toy got out? I think you'll
now agree I really do have control of your destiny..."
Ulrika nodded, silently.

After a while, she spoke, staring sullenly at the ground, eyes tearful.
"Look - I'll do whatever jobs you want me to do in future, I promise.
Just let me go, now."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, my dear. You see, I think you need
to be punished for your past misdemeanours." With that, Carol picked
up a small brown cardboard box.
"What are you going to do?" Ulrika asked, a worried look on her face.
"What's in that box?"
"I'll tell you what's in the box in a moment," Carol answered. "As to
what I'm going to do, I've had plenty of time to think long and hard
about that. I thought about having an enema, and squirting it out over
your face, that's what darling Philippa's replacement on Robot Wars
allowed her to do to ensure the job was hers - very messy business that,
Philippa hadn't been too well and was already a bit,er, "loose".
Or, I thought I might make you do the same "audition" Philippa did to get
the job presenting Barking Mad - always was an animal lover, that girl,
do you know what I mean?"

"But," continued Carol, "I've decided to make it easy for you, and
make use of your natural assets. I noticed quite a few years ago
that you've got some pretty saggy tits, there. Pretty big, but
definitely saggy. Now, I've decided that what I'm going to do is help
you re-live the days when they were still quite high up, and firm to
the touch."
"But what's in the box?" asked Ulrika, "and how is whatever's in there
going to do that?"
"Because, my dear," replied Carol, "What's in here are these." She
pulled out the contents of the box. "You'll recognise these. Elastic
bands, as used by the post office to bundle up letters. Same size,
same type. And what's going to happen is, I'm going to stretch as
many over your tits as I can. Shall we begin?"
Saying that, Carol stretched the first elastic band wide, and deftly
slipped it over Urika's breast until it was at the very base, where she
let go. The elastic band contracted, and pulled into Ulrika's tit,
making it bulge a little. Carol stood back to enjoy the view, and
encouraged, began work in earnest.

"...And that's the last"
Carol stood back to check out the finished article. Ulrika's tits,
once so saggy, were now standing straight out from her body, covered
from base to approximately two-thirds along in tight elastic bands.
The flesh from the last third that was still visible was almost purple,
engorged with blood as it was. Ulrika grimaced with the discomfort of
it, but worse was to come. Carol walked over to the wall, to where a
small fridge hummed. Opening the freezer compartment, she took out a
bag of ice cubes, and holding one between her fingers, began to rub it
over Ulrika's nipples.
"Why are you doing that?" Ulrika asked.
"Because I want them as erect as I can get them." Carol answered.
Ulrika found herself hoping against hope that she could resist, but her
body was having none of it. Her nipples began to rise, and she knew
that at their most erect they could go to three quarters of an inch.
They did.
"Now for your next treat" Carol said with a smile. She brandished a
small bar with a hook in the middle. "You know what this is?"
"It looks like the sort of hanger you get when you buy shorts." replied
Ulrika.
"That's right," Carol agreed. "A bar, a hook in the middle, and two
clips. Now, guess where the two clips are going to go?"
No, thought Ulrika, she can't be serious...

Carol opened the jaws of the first clip, and taking care to make sure
the nipple was well placed in between them, released the jaws. The
plastic jaws of the clip squeezed the nipple hard, biting into it, and
Ulrika let out a cry of discomfort. Laughing out loud, Carol clamped the
other nipple. Once more Ulrika felt pain shoot through her breast, causing
her to squeal shrilly. Carol laughed again, her eyes moving from Ulrika's
tormented tits to her face, contorted in pain.
The worst was yet to come.

"Have you had enough?" Carol asked."Do you want me to let you go?"
"Please" Ulrika replied."Please let me go - I'll behave, and do as you
tell me, but let me go."
"I tell you what," said Carol, "I'll do you a deal." So saying, she
brought a plastic six-pint milk container over from the fridge,
placing it on the floor in front of Ulrika. "Now," she said, "I'm going
to attach a chain from THAT hook on the shorts hanger, and tie it round
that handle on the milk container. If you can lift it off the ground,
I'll let you go."
Ulrika nodded silently in subservience. She was ready to do anything
now.

After positioning Ulrika so she was bent forward at the waist, Carol
slid the end of the chain over the hook, and bending down, tied the
other end around the milk container.
"OK - ready?"
Ulrika nodded again.
"Off you go."
Ulrika tried to straighten her back and felt the hanger pull at her
already painful nipples. She grimaced, then tried again. Pulling
herself back with her shoulders she attempted again to lift the milk
container. The nerves in her tits, already cruelly tortured by the
elastic bands shrieked with alarm as they felt the tits stretch out
even more. No movement. One last effort. Mouth drawn back in a grimace,
teeth clenched, eyes squeezed tight shut, Ulrika drew on her last
reserves of strength.

Against the odds she began to straighten her back. The milk
container began to rise slowly off the ground. Panting with exertion
Ulrika straightened up completely, her eyes brimming with tears of pain.
The milk container swung slowly between her legs, circling as it did so.
Ulrika opened her eyes. Carol had stepped back a few paces, and was
standing in front of her, her eyes running up and down Ulrikas' body,from
her cunt, up to her stretched, abused tits, then on up to her by now
tear-stained face, one hand squeezing her own tits, the other hand between
her legs, masturbating frantically, her middle finger rubbing at her clit,
the two either side holding her cunt lips open. As Ulrika watched, Carol
began to climax, her thighs first trembling, then shaking as she
orgasmed, panting with excitement. Ulrika was shocked.

Carol fixed her with a steady gaze.
"Why do you look shocked like that?" Carol almost whispered, her voice
throaty with lust. "This is what does it for me - power and degradation,
control and perversion. I love it. I love it all..."
She sucked the finger that had been between her legs.
"Now," she continued, "I think perhaps we should finish you off."

So saying,she stepped forward, and brought her hand down sharply on
the top of the hanger bar. The blow combined with the weight of the
milk container caused the clips to release their hold on Ulrika's
nipples,and the hanger fell to the ground. God, that hurt! Her nipples
felt as though they were plugged into the mains. But there was more to
come. Carol reached around the sides of Ulrika's tits, hooked her
fingers under the elastic bands at the base, pulled hard, and ripped
them all off Ulrika's battered tits in one go.
A flood of pain hit Ulrika as the abused flesh revealed its' purple
ridges, but with it also a feeling she'd never felt before. Her mind
was whirling. She felt as though she was flying through space. She felt
energised, alive. Something strange had happened to her.
She wanted more of the treatment Carol had given her. She realised how
wet her cunt was as Carol slipped her hand down between her legs.
Ulrika moaned urgently "I want to be yours - I am yours. Make me your
property. Make me come..."
Carol frigged her clitoris hard with one hand, finger-fucking her with
the other, and Ulrika felt herself cumming again and again.
Her life would never be the same after this...

After Carol had put her new slave to bed, she slipped behind the
false wall to retrieve the video from the secret camera hidden there.
This would make good viewing before bedtime, she thought. Back in the
lounge,she put the video cassette in the VCR, settled back on the couch,
spread her legs, and pressed "rewind" on the handset...

[davesmistress]

Ulrika's Revenge part two - Carol Vorderman Strikes Back. (By Alexia_Fan)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carol Vorderman stomped in through the door, fuming. She had been humiliated by Ulrika Jonsson and treated like a slut by Angus Deayton, Paul Merton and worst of all, that twat Ian Hislop. How dare they...
They'd tricked her into going there, and she'd shown herself up by ending up getting aroused. She should have been stronger. Control. It was all about control. If she coudn't control herself, how could she expect to control her slaves?
Moving to the foot of the stairs she shouted out at the top of her voice.
"PHILIPPA - GET DOWN HERE NOW!!"

Philippa woke with a start. She hadn't been expecting to be summoned tonight. Her Mistress had told her not to stay up, she was off to record a pilot for a TV quiz show. She slipped out of bed and wrapped her dressing-gown around her. Stepping into her Dr. Scholls she padded downstairs and found Carol Vorderman hanging up her coat.
"Mistress, what's wrong?" She asked, puzzled.
Carol replied without even looking at her.
"Just get in the cellar, now. I've got some thinking to do."

Philippa stood naked in the centre of the cellar, watching her Mistress as she systematically lined up an array of whips, canes and tawses. A riding crop, candles, nipple clamps and a butt-plug followed. She'd seen that butt-plug in her Mistress' collection when she'd been told to fetch things by Carol as she tortured one of her many other slaves, but only ever seen it in use once. She was scared of it. She'd never seen one so big. She bit her lip as she looked at it.
"Mistress, have I done anything wrong?"
"No, not you. Bend over, hands against the wall."
So, thought Philippa. Something had upset her Mistress and she needed to take it out on someone.She relaxed. That was OK, then. As long as she could please her Mistress she was willing to do anything, to take any punishment. She placed her hands against the coldness of the bare bricks and bent over...

Carol frowned as she picked up a tawse and began to beat Philippa's arse. How dare they. She couldn't let it go, she had to do something, but what?
"Push your arse out more."
She flicked the tawse over the rapidly reddening cheeks of Philippa Forrester's behind. The physical action of the beating coupled with the whimpers from her slave helped her think. Her mind returned to her previous predicament. What could she do? Merton, Deayton, Hislop, Jonsson... She chewed her lip. Jonsson, Hislop, Deayton, Merton. Trouble was, she liked Paul Merton, and Ian Hislop was dangerous, being editor of Private Eye.
"Turn around, back against the wall, hands behind head."
Philippa obeyed, and Carol applied the nipple clamps, snapping them on and tightening the screws.
Ian Hislop... She knew his network of informers and useful contacts was rival in scope and reach to her own, so she had to be careful in that direction. While she ruled her world with a rod of iron, controlling it through blackmail, sexual wiles and just plain force it would be disaster if it all slipped away, exposed by Private Eye as the cold sexual deviant she was.
"Mistress!"
The sound of her slave's voice bought Carol back to the present. There were tears in Philippa's eyes, and her nipples were squashed almost flat by the clamps - no wonder she had cried out! Carol released the screws a little. That was better. Carol had many female slaves, but Philippa was her favourite, and like any relationship between two people who care for each other there were ground rules, and one of them was knowing when to stop.
Picking up a riding crop she began to beat her unfortunate but adoring slave's breasts.

Philippa writhed as the crop struck at her tits. Though her breasts were small she still had her hands behind her head, and this caused her tits to jut out, making an excellent target for her Mistress to take her frustration out on. Philippa felt herself getting aroused. She loved Mistress Carol. She had drifted through life until she'd met this wonderful, strong woman. Since then she'd been introduced to a life of perversion, degradation and subservience. She felt that she was totally and utterly owned, a chattel, a thing to be used as her Mistress desired. She had never been so happy. She belonged.
Philippa watched her Mistress' face. What was it that had happened to her? Whatever it was she was mad as hell about it. She hadn't even bothered to change into one of her many outfits before commencing with Philippa's punishment. Philippa knew that the beating she was receiving was her Mistress' way of releasing the anger that filled her, and she was happy to be of use. On command she turned again, presenting her behind for the attention of the riding crop. The strokes were getting harder.

Carol's mind was in overdrive. She was barely aware of the body she was beating as she plotted her revenge. The red stripes over her slave's arse increased as she went to work on Philippa's behind with the riding crop. Changing to the whip Carol began to lash Philippa's arse and back. In her mind was a conglomeration of everyone that had ever wronged her, an ever changing mixture of faces, a series of bodies to be punished.
...And that, and that, and especially that! Her arm aching, Carol came out of her thoughts and smiled a little as her slave began to cry. That was more like it. Mistress Carol was in control again. She felt good. She thought of those who had treated her in such a disrespectful manner.
"OK, at ease."
Philippa stepped back from the wall, sniffed and wiped her eyes. She began to feel her behind gingerly.
"Thank you, Mistress," she murmured, her voice trembling a little.
Carol smiled. It wasn't over yet.
"Fetch the butt plug."
Philippa's eyes were wide as she brought the monster butt-plug to her Mistress. It was huge, tapering out from the end until at it's widest point it was as thick as her upper arm, then dropping away again, finishing in a flat base. She'd seen how it had stretched Anthea Turner's arse when Carol had used it on her, and though her Mistress had threatened to use it on her afterward she'd relented and only made Philippa lick it clean.
"On your front on the mattress - now."
Philippa obeyed, fear her eyes.

As Carol applied a little lubricating gel to her slave's anus. As she began to loosen Philippa's hole with her finger she continued to plot her revenge. That was it - a show of strength. The public humiliation of one would show the rest she meant business and was not to be crossed. Deayton. He was the one.
She licked the end of the butt-plug. A little spittle helped, she found. Yes, Deayton. Publicly humiliated, but in what way?
She placed the butt plug against Philippa's arsehole and began to work it in.
Show up Deayton in some way that wouldn't be traced back to her...

"It's no good Mistress, it won't fit - please!"
The sound of Philippa's voice rang out in the dungeon, strained and desperate. She was lying on her front, her arse pushed high into the air. Once more, her face creased up in pain.
"Please Mistress, stop - it won't go - aarghhh!"
Carol Vorderman's voice was steady, anger bubbling beneath the apparent calm.
"It will fucking go, so stop squealing,. You sound like the pig that you are. Now, push out when I push in, or I'll rip you up and won't give a shit."
Determination was written on Carol Vorderman's face as she concentrated on her task.
The butt-plug was enormous, and Carol had to lean down on it, using all her force once more to try to push it into Philippa's arse. Philippa shreiked again, gasping as she felt the pressure but pushed out, opening her poor abused sphincter as much as she could and this time the butt-plug finally slid in with a faint 'plop'. Philippa relaxed. Now that it was in, it felt good. She loved being the plaything of her Mistress...

Carol fetched the candles, lit one, and began to drip candle wax on the cheeks of Philippa's arse. Philippa looked wonderful, the huge butt-plug protruding from her arse which was raised high in the air, cheeks criss-crossed with red marks from their earlier treatment, her behind trembling a little as each drop of candle wax made it's mark. Carol would allow her to climax later as a reward for being a good slave, once she'd climaxed herself.
Suddenly it all became clear to her. Drugs. That was how she could do it. Angus Deayton was well known in showbiz circles for his consumption of cocaine. Carol had also found out through her network of spies that he was having an affair. If she tipped off the newspapers via a third party, and then used her influence within the higher echelons of BBC to get him the sack from Have I Got News for You, it would send a clear message to the others that she was back in charge. Yes, that would do it. She looked down at her slave with gratitiude.

"Philippa, you've helped me sort out a problem tonight, and I am grateful to you for that. As a special treat you can make yourself come now, if you wish."
Philippa, her heart nearly bursting with pleasure at being spoken to in such a way by her Mistress, put her hand between her legs and began to masturbate....


The Following Day:

"Hello, is that John Birt? Oh, hi there, John. Yes, it's me, Carol. Oh, I'm fine - how are you? Good. Now listen. You've read the news about Angus? Yes, big surprise to me, too. Who'd have thought it... I mean, an affair is one thing, but doing coke too. Well, I mean, you know, what stupidity...
Keep him on? Oh, I don't think you should do that. You're Director General, John - you need to show you mean business. Bacon got the sack from Blue Peter, after all, didn't he? And that was just the cocaine...
Another party? Well, no, we haven't done one for you for a while, have we? Yes, I should think so, I can get the girls together. Just sack Deayton first would you? No, I can't say why. I'd just be very grateful.
Well, that's very decent of you, John, very decent. It's definitely the right move. I'll look forward to seeing it in the papers.
Now, the party. Do you want the usual stuff? Great. I'll arrange it, then. Listen - as a special treat would you like me to get Philly to do her special dog show? Yes, John, she does that. Yes, and that. She does it all, John, whatever you want. You'll enjoy it.
OK, I'll be in touch in about a week. You take care, too.
Bye, then!"
Click.

[davesmistress]

Ulrika's Revenge Part 3 - Ulrika and Angus Plot Revenge
Having been sacked from his job as a TV presenter (see "Ulrika's Revenge Part two - Carol Vorderman Strikes Back" by Alexia_Fan), Angus Deayton took his time about plotting revenge. Carol Vorderman had proved herself a force to be reckoned with and now that he was down, he didn't want to go any further in that direction, if indeed that were possible.
So he thought long and hard about ways in which he could bring the bitch to some sort of justice for what she had done. Finding solace in a bottle, he found his mind wandering in many different directions. With the addition of a little coke, his fancies drifted randomly until one morning, as if a fog had lifted from his mind, he sat up in bed and picked up the phone.
"Ulrika, it's Angus. We need to talk".
So saying, he arranged to meet his friend Ulrika Jonsson later that morning. With the call completed, Angus sat back against the headboard and smiled to himself. Revenge would be his.


Ulrika was late as usual. Angus was looking impatiently at his watch for the hundredth time when she sailed into the café, wearing dark glasses and a scarf around her head. She looked like a Bond girl, dressed for an exhilarating ride in the Aston.
"So, what's this all about?", she asked.
"Guess", Angus responded with a grimace.
"Oh, her", said Ulrika.
"Of course it's bloody her", snapped Angus, and then immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. It's just that she cost me my job and that, so I'm pretty upset really."
"I know. Dreadful", agreed Ulrika. "What do you have in mind for her, then?"
"Well I've been thinking about how I could humiliate her in a way that gives some level of recompense for my ruined career. I'm not sure I can get close, but this is what I want to do."
So saying, he leaned forward conspiratorially, and told her what he had in mind.
Ulrika Jonsson listened carefully, nodding occasionally and only once interrupting to ask a question. He had obviously thought this one out and selected his accomplice very carefully.
When he had finished, Ulrika sat there motionless for a full minute before she abruptly snapped her head towards Angus and said "Ok. We'll do it. I'll call you."
With that, she stood up, leaned over to kiss him lightly on the cheek, and breezed out.
Angus, content to remain seated with a half full cup of cold coffee before him, mused about what would transpire over the forthcoming days and weeks.


Carol Vorderman was angry. For the past few days, every time she went to the canteen, one of the most hated women in her life was also there. It seemed that Ulrika Jonsson deliberately contrived to sit where she could clearly see her. What was she up to?
She had even tried going out for lunch instead, but that had been worse. Not only had it cost her more money to eat in any number of exotic restaurants and bistros to be found around the area, but it seemed that Ulrika was always there too.
In a fit of rage, Carol approached Ulrika at her table on the pavement outside a bistro and demanded to know what was happening. "Why are you persecuting me?", she demanded, sternly.
"What makes you think you're that important to me?", replied Ulrika, indifferently.
Carol stomped off, feeling mightily miffed. Something was afoot, but she couldn't get a handle on it.
After a while, Carol almost forgot about her human shadow. It seemed irrelevant. Perhaps Ulrika was just playing some pathetic mind game. Anyway, no harm seemed to be coming her way.


It had been a long, hard day at the office for Carol. As she locked her car and heard the reassuring bleep of the alarm, she was terrified as a dark, hooded shape emerged from the shadows by her front door, put an arm around her neck and roughly covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
"Scream, and I'll slit your throat, bitch", said a gruff voice. She nodded, carefully, eyes agog with terror.
"Open the door".
Shaking with fear, she fumbled in her handbag and produced a small bunch of keys. There were so many of them, all alike in the dim light. She couldn't find the damned key!
Eventually, the lock was sprung and she was bundled unceremoniously into her flat. Turning around to confront her attacker, she was appalled to see both Angus Deayton and Ulrika Jonsson, as they pulled off their disguises.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?", spat Carol Vorderman.
"I've got just the thing for you, bitch", hissed Angus.
So saying, he caught hold of Carol's arms. She instantly resisted, but relented when his superior strength became evident. She would save herself for whatever was to come next, she thought. Maybe make a run for it.
Angus fished in his coat pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs. Snapping them shut with her wrists in front of her, he led her into the living room and pushed her face down over the edge of the settee.
"You're going to love this", he whispered in her ear. He reached for Carol's skirt and finding the bottom, he started stroking his hands up her legs.
Carol started giggling. "You're out of luck there, matey boy. Wrong time of the month you know."
She froze as Angus said "I know, my dear. My friend has been watching you for three weeks now, waiting until you were on. It takes one to know one, you see."
"But, …"
"Yes, I'm going to have you anyway and make a right mess of you. There will be photographs too. You're going to pay for what you did to me"
Ulrika had told him about some locker room chit chat that had come her way many months ago, the sort of gossip that was instantly forgotten at the time, only to be dredged up when the time was right. It seemed that Carol suffered from very heavy, erratic periods and took iron supplements to help replace the red blood cells she lost during the days of menstrual bleeding.
Angus reached the top of Carol's legs and encountered her panties. It was time to proceed with the next phase of the operation.
He lifted her skirt up around her waist and roughly tugged down the panties. Carol Vorderman squirmed, but Angus responded by spanking her hard, pushing her back down and kicking her legs apart.
"Behave yourself Carol, and it will soon be over. Resist and things will get very nasty indeed", hissed Angus.
Carol took notice then. This was a voice she had never heard before. It was the sound of a man who had taken leave of his senses. He was obviously capable of anything. She would have to submit and endure whatever was in store for her.
Examining the rear view, Angus reached a hand between her legs and tugged at the string of her tampon. It came out quite easily, lubricated by a mixture of fresh and semi-congealed blood. Rolling it between his hands, Angus reached over Carol's shoulders and rubbed the gooey mess over her face.
Carol moaned in revulsion and tried to get away, but he was too strong to resist. She felt sick.
Reaching again between her legs, Angus probed for her cunt lips and finding them nestling between her bum cheeks, he inserted three fingers. Carol sucked in her breath and bit her lip as she suffered this intimate intrusion.
Looking at his bloodied fingers with interest, Angus suddenly made his decision and smeared them over Carols' bum.
"You're a messy slut", he accused her."
"What do you expect, you pervert?", gasped Carol, still not looking at him.
"I've got a special surprise for you, slut", said Angus. Carol looked around fearfully, tears welling up in her eyes. She was frightened now. What the hell was this madman going to do to her?
She looked over to Ulrika, a pleading look in her face. Ulrika shrugged, and turned to look at what Angus was doing.
From the depths of his coat, Angus produced a large claw hammer and two extremely large nails. Carol frowned when she saw them and started to cry. Angus turned his back on her and fetched a chair from behind a desk in the corner. Standing on the chair, he reached towards the oak beamed ceiling and carefully, using precise blows, hammered in one of the nails until half of it remained visible. Then, with sweat pouring off his brow, he forced the nail out of the beam, leaving a gaping hole. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a large threaded meat hook, which he proceeded to screw into the newly prepared hole.
Next, Angus went into Carol's bedroom and ripped the sheet off her bed. He laid it on the floor, directly underneath the hook. This was to be the centre of his operations, then.
Having inspected his handiwork and declared himself satisfied, Angus turned to Carol and beckoned to her. Slowly, reluctantly, she walked over to the centre of the room, fear in her face as she looked warily up at the hook, then down at the chair. It didn't look good. She almost sighed with relief when Angus produced a short length of nylon rope and tied one end around the hook and the other around her cuffs. She was left standing in the centre of her living room with her arms upraised, a prisoner in chains.
"OK, Ulrika, time to undress our friend."
Ulrika, who had been only a spectator up until that moment, sauntered over to her rival and ran her forefinger over Carol's chin. She smirked openly, letting her captive see the contempt in her face.
Carol didn't meet her eye, preferring instead to study the patterns on the carpet.
Suddenly reaching her hand inside the front of Carol's blouse, Ulrika ripped with all her might and was rewarded when the entire complement of buttons flew across the room. Carol's tits sprang into view, held in place by a lacy white bra. Pulling hard at the front of the bra, Ulrika's eyes narrowed with the effort. After two experimental tugs, she gave a sigh of exasperation and went round to the back, using the more conventional method of undoing the clasp to remove the garment.
With their new-found freedom, Carol's tits flopped out onto her chest. Ulrika ignored them. Angus looked on with interest, his tongue running across his parted lips.
The skirt came off next, leaving Carol standing there wearing only her shoes.
Angus walked over to the naked woman and stood with his face up close to hers. "I am now going to tie your feet. If you resist, or try to kick me, I shall nail them to the floor. Do you understand?"
His voice was ice cold, with no trace of emotion. Carol had absolutely no doubt that he meant what he said. She nodded silently, biting her bottom lip.
Angus tied a short length of rope around each of her ankles, and then tied the other ends around his nails, which he then hammered into the floor. Carol couldn't help herself thinking about the cost of repairing the damaged carpet.
Carol was now standing with her legs apart, arms above her, head hanging, completely humiliated.
Angus stood back to admire the view. Then, on an impulse, he walked over to his victim and roughly mauled her breasts for a few moments, before running his hands down her flat tummy and feeling the soft hairs around her labia. Again, his fingers came away tinged with red, which he wiped off onto her stomach.
"I need a pee", gasped Carol.
"Go on then", laughed Angus. "No one's stopping you."
"I can't do that", said Carol, anguish all over her face.
Angus just shrugged and went over to the settee. He found the remote and switched on the television. Ulrika joined him and together they sat as if they had not a care in the world.
Unable to hold out any longer, Carol let it go. With a muted cry, she pissed herself. It ran down her legs with a hissing noise, and onto the bed sheet beneath her. The warm urine was tinged with pink, leaving reddish blobby particles stuck to her leg. It was a revolting sight.
Carol was used to dominating others around her, but now the tables had been turned and she had been cowed. Crying quietly to herself, she felt her spirit going. Her arms hurt like hell, she was stark naked in front of her enemies and she was a mess. She knew she was in trouble and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. What were they planning to do with her? Surely they weren't going to kill her?
The sudden realisation that this attack was on a different level from all previous encounters caused Carol to break into a cold sweat. She shivered. Her attackers were behind her and she could only deduce what they were doing from the sounds she could hear, which only increased her apprehension.
Hearing Carol's involuntary shudder, Ulrika looked up to see the pathetic figure wilting in the makeshift chains. She nudged Angus, who reluctantly diverted his attention away from the television.
When Ulrika murmured in his ear, he nodded and stood up, turning off the TV. He walked up behind Carol and put his arms around her to feel her breasts, weighing them in his hands and rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. He was rewarded with a sigh and a sob. Good, she still had some life in her.
Ulrika appeared with a chef's knife she had found in the kitchen. Standing in front of Carol, she tested the sharpness of the blade against her fingers. Carol studied the blade carefully, trying to read her intentions. Butterflies fluttered nervously around her stomach.
Satisfied, Ulrika reached up and sliced through the rope holding Carol's arms. The welcome relief caused Carol to flop, but forgetting her manacled feet, she fell backwards, her head making a painful-sounding thump on the floor.
"Right, it's time to enjoy your body now", said Angus, grinning.
Carol eyed him warily. She struggled to sit up but hampered by her tied legs, she didn't make it before Angus pushed her down again.
"No, Carol, you will lie there and be fucked until I am satisfied. Make any sound whatsoever and you will regret it."
He paused for effect, looking her straight in the eye. She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded mutely and looked down at her body.
It was mess. Bloody, damp from the urine, smelly, a humiliating sight.
Removing his trousers and placing them carefully on the chair back, Angus manoeuvred himself between Carol's splayed legs. He had found the evening's events extremely arousing and was sporting a massive erection.
He slid his cock into Carol's cunt. He hardly needed to push, as the lubrication was so plentiful. He slid in and out of her hole, enjoying the warm feeling he got from her body. Carol looked away, careful not to meet his eyes. She wanted to survive this ordeal.
Angus looked down between their bodies and was pleased to see his hard shaft, covered in red slime, as it hammered away between Carol's thighs. He could smell the heavy odour of the bloody mess that coated their pubes, mixed with their sex juices.
Feeling himself about to come, Angus explained the rules to Carol. "I am going to come now. I will place my cock in your mouth and you will swallow. If you bite me, I will cut you. Understand?"
Carol, tears running silently down her cheeks, nodded. It seemed that her ordeal was finally coming to an end.
Angus concentrated on his stroke, forcing his cock into Carol. Finally, he withdrew and scrabbled up her body. Sitting astride her chest, he rubbed his cock for one last time before frantically jamming it into her mouth. Letting out a groan, he gushed his spunk into Carol's mouth, convulsing in the ecstasy of the moment.
Carol, gagged, but remembering herself, forced herself to swallow the revolting mixture of sperm and red slimy period juice.
Without saying a word, Angus climbed off the mess-soaked Carol. He turned his back on her and after wiping his cock on a cushion, quickly dressed.
Carol lay there in a daze, hoping it would soon be over. She propped herself up on her elbows and found Ulrika standing before her, sporting a Polaroid camera. Before she could react, the flash went off and with a cheeky "Thank you!", Ulrika turned and disappeared from view again.
Angus and Ulrika donned their coats and walked over to the front door, As he opened it, Angus turned and remarked, "You know, Carol, this room is a right mess. You really ought to get a grip and tidy up".
So saying, they went out into the night, closing the door quietly behind them.

[davesmistress]

Ulrika's Revenge: Part 4: Abusing Phillipa Forrester
by
Jack Anory (noangel1232004@yahoo.co.uk)



"Ding dong"
Carol muttered under her breath "Where was Phillipa?" she got up from her chair reluctantly to answer the door. The postman was there. "Morning Mrs V" he said cheerfully. "Good morning." She said putting on a happy smile, ever mindful of her adoring public.
She took the offered parcel, puzzled, she wasn't expecting anything and where on earth was that girl?

The parcel was a jiffy bag about 8 inches by 6 inches. Carol pressed her fingers against it. It felt hard. She walked back through to the sitting room whilst opening it
She sat back down in the chair and pulled out the item inside. It was a video. Black with no markings.
"Oh God, it's the video that Ulrika Jonsson and Co made". She felt herself begin to tremble: this could ruin everything. "No" she said to herself taking a deep breath. "Control. That's what it's all about." She continued to look at the video as if it was something deadly, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to resist watching it.
She walked over to the video recorder, bent down and slipped it in the machine.
She was relieved that Phillipa wasn't around. She couldn't let her see this.

The screen crackled into life. Angus Deayton's face appeared: " Hello Carol, yes it's me and I've someone else here that you know intimately, I believe." The camera panned away from him and Carol saw a pretty young face come into view. A face that she knew well, in fact she knew every orifice of hers very well indeed. It was Phillipa Forrester, her adoring slave!
But Phillipa couldn't speak; she was bound and gagged, her eyes big and wide; she looked frightened. The screen went back to Angus; he was saying "Carol, we thought you'd like to see this little film we're about to make." The image changed to Phillipa Forrester walking in a garden, away from her so her back was to the camera.She was wearing a long flimsy summer dress, and with the sun shining through Carol could see there was nothing underneath. The only other item she was wearing was shoes, her favourite Scholl sandals. Her arms had been tied behind her with masking tape. She was with Angus Deayton and another woman. Of course that woman had to be Ulrika Bloody Jonsson. Ulrika turned sideways on to wave at the camera, laughing.

They were walking across a well kept lawn and they reached a spot where there were a few trees and all three figures stopped. Carol could see on the grass what appeared to be netting; Phillipa was placed in the middle of it and told by Ulrika to kick her shoes to one side away from her. She was then roughly shoved to the floor, face down. Ulrika and Angus went to each end and lifting up a trailing piece of rope they pulled it tight, resulting in Phillipa being caught up inside. Angus tossed his end by Phillipa's head over a tree branch and pulled. Ulrika went to help him and between them they raised Phillipa Forrester off the ground, swinging from a branch, completely helpless, unable to do anything.

Carol was watching this in disbelief. How dare they? Phillipa was her slave, no-one else's, they had no right. She was her mistress and only her. She watched the faces of these two people she hated. They were so enjoying themselves, knowing that Carol would be watching this, watching and unable to do anything.

Angus took out a knife and sliced through the rope that was supporting her. Phillipa landed with a bump.The mesh was tight around her body and her flesh was bulging through various holes in it.
Angus sat down on Phillipa's back: she was face down. Using the knife he cut through the mesh causing her bottom to stick out, it looked really fat. Next, he sliced through her dress exposing her bare bum, protruding through the hole, her bumhole was showing because of the way it was sticking out. He told hold of her cheeks and spread them apart, his finger right down in the crease. Ulrika bent down to look. " I guess as a slave she's used to this treatment, eh Carol?" as she turned to look directly at the camera. She put her finger into her anus deep, then a second one. Phillipa you do have a nice arsehole." Phillipa moaned softly.
Ulrika pulled her fingers away from Phillipa and sucked them. Angus stood up to undo his trousers, but was stopped by Ulrika "No wait, lets get her tits out."
They rolled her over. As the mesh was taut against her breasts they looked huge, Angus sat on her stomach. He leant forward and with the knife he cut just enough of the mesh to allow each breast room to poke out. He grabbed each tit one by one pulling it through the hole, the breast was sticking up and really swollen as if tied up. Her nipples making small mounds. He squeezed and groped them, leering at her: she could do nothing. She had spotted the camera but didn't know what this was all about. She didn't have time to speculate, Angus pinched and twisted her nipples until they were really rock hard, Phillipa was moaning and whimpering, one moment trying to wriggle away, the next pushing her body up for more. Her tits felt huge, bloated and hot. Angus paused: staring hard at them as if assessing each one for ripeness then suddenly he tore at the mesh and her dress letting her tits burst free.

He moved back down her body slightly and undid his trousers, he hadn't any underwear on and his hard, erect cock sprung free, he cut the mesh further down Phillipa's body and her dress, exposing her pale flesh, as she didn't have any underwear on he was able to enter her easily. He pushed the whole length of his cock hard into her, thrusting back and forth. At the same time Ulrika had removed her trousers and underwear: she stood astride Phillipa's face and lowered herself onto the young woman's face saying "Suck me, slave, suck me until I come." As she spoke she tore away the gag around her mouth and hair, not caring how rough she was. Phillipa's eyes watered with the pain.

As Ulrika knelt over her she caught the scent of female arousal and despite herself she was excited, so excited she would have done anything. She eagerly pushed her tongue into Ulrika's vagina, pushing as deep as she could making Ulrika's muscles contract, Angus was still pumping hard into her. Phillipa began to lick up and down her slit, then sucked at her clitoris, Ulrika gasped, this was heaven, not only, because of what was happening but also because this was Carol Vorderman's favourite slave, and here she was pleasuring her! She laughed inwardly. Soon Carol was going to be able to watch it all, watch how active her slave was being, how aroused she was.

Angus grunted , this was it, he couldn't hold on any longer. He came. As he did he pulled out of her, copious amounts of his sperm landing on her stomach, puddling in her belly button. He rolled off her as he wanted to see Ulrika come in her face. As she came she gasped and her body tensed but Phillipa didn't let go, she continued sucking until Ulrika moved away from her. She couldn't get enough of her juices.

Phillipa was desperate to come herself but her hands were still caught up in the netting. She couldn't move. Ulrika stood up "I bet you need to come now, don't you Phillipa?"
Phillipa said nothing, but looked pleadingly.
"Angus, do you think we should let our little slave pleasure herself?"
Angus had also stood up and he now bent down to free her right hand. Immediately Phillipa's hand flew to her pussy. She was soaking. She started to touch herself. Both Angus and Ulrika were standing over her. As she rubbed herself hot fluid joined her hand, Angus had begun to urinate over her, aiming his spray between her legs, the liquid splashing all over her cunt, and her thighs as she masturbated. Ulrika not wanting to be outdone here, once again stood over her face and also began to urinate, releasing her stream into Phillipa's face. Phillipa couldn't help herself: she opened her mouth wanting it. It splashed all over her face and breasts running down her chest. She came with a loud cry. Her body convulsing, until all three came to a halt. Phillipa lie there realising what she had done, began to cry.

Ulrika and Angus began to dress and compose themselves, their appetites sated, then turning to Phillipa, Ulrika said "Ok slave, it's time to deliver you back to your mistress"

They lifted Phillipa to her feet, Angus slicing through the netting to ensure she could take small steps.She was given her sandals back, and they took one arm each and led her around the side of the building where an open top car was waiting.
They roughly pushed Phillipa on the back seat, which had a plastic sheet on it. Angus got in the drivers side, with Ulrika sitting in the front passenger seat.

"Time to deliver the slave home." Ulrika said laughing
Phillipa in the back was uncomfortable both physically and mentally. She guessed they were taking her back to Mistress Carol and she dreaded it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


As Carol watched the video come to an end with the three people walking out of camera shot, the doorbell went again. She got up, went to the front door, couldn't see anyone through the obscure glass, but opened it anyway. Looking down, she saw her slave Phillipa Forrester trussed up like an oven ready chicken in netting, almost naked, half lying half sitting against the side wall.
Phillipa was sobbing.
As Carol looked at her, a horn beeped. Carol's head went up and she saw an open top car moving away with her hated enemies Ulrika Jonsson and Angus Deayton laughing and waving at her as they drove away.

Carol was so angry she couldn't speak. She quickly dragged the poor girl indoors practically by her hair before anyone saw her. She was going to pay for this, for humiliating her in this way. The girl could have, should have not responded to them, but she had actually enjoyed it. She has some serious explaining to do, how she had allowed herself to get in such a situation...

Not only that, this whole situation was getting out of hand. Her whole world was under threat from these upstarts. She thought she'd beaten Angus by getting him the sack, but no. It hadn't worked. Also she reminded herself there was still that video around...

"PHILLIPA!!!"

[davesmistress]

Ulrika's Revenge part five. (by Alexia Fan and Jack Anory)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------


"MMMISTRESSSS!!!"
Ulrika Jonsson's scream rang out from the very depths of her soul. Why bother, Carol Vorderman thought to herself. She took another draw on her cigarette, twitched the holder and watched the ash spiral down. Pleading for mercy would do no good. They were in her world now. The torches blazing on the walls flickered as the smoke from the brazier in the middle of the room rose like the departing souls of the many slaves she had tortured there. A moan of despair from Ulrika distracted her momentarily. She followed her captive's gaze to the cause. It was directed at the figure hanging from the manacles on the wall of the damp, dank gothic dungeon. Blood still seeped from the sightless, empty eye sockets of the corpse, dripping down the mangled torso to the bloodied and gaping hole where it's masculinity once lay.
Mistress Carol's eyes glittered with satisfaction. Angus would bother her no more. She took a last draw on the cigarette, blew the smoke out through her nose, then pulled the cigarette butt from its holder and dropped it to the floor, crushing it beneath her stilleto heeled boot. She turned her attention once more to the as yet untouched Ulrika, stretched out naked and bound, spreadeagled on the rack. Her nemesis. Now it was her turn.

Ulrika began to scream once more, twisting and turning, desperately trying to break free from her bonds. Eyes wide, she gazed in terror as Mistress Carol advanced on her, the red hot, brightly glowing poker in her hand. She could still see Angus's blood sizzling upon it. Carol stopped, head slightly tilted, listening intently. Beneath Ulrika's now hysterical shreiking she could hear the rattle of the chains as she struggled. She smiled at the waste of effort. There was no escape this time. No route to freedom. This was to the death. And there was no hurry to get there - they would go the pretty way. Well, maybe not so pretty toward the end.
She moved the red hot poker between Ulrika's legs, closer and closer. It cast an orange glow over Ulrika's inner thighs. Six inches to go. Four. Two. Now she would feel the wrath of Mistress Carol. Now she would know not to cross her. One more inch. She moved it closer still. Now she would...

"Mistress.."
Carol awoke. Anthea Turner was waiting by the bedside, a cup of tea in her hand.
"You woke me," she said, crossly.
"You did say you wanted an early start, Mistress."
"That's true," then, sitting up, "I was having the most lovely dream..."
She adjusted the pillows, took the cup from her slave and sat back, sipping the tea. She had a lot to think about.
As she drank her tea she looked at Anthea, standing at the foot of the bed. It should be Philippa, Carol thought. Anthea was a good slave, especially since Carol had made her get a boob job, but she just wasn't the same as her Philippa. With Anthea money had always been the prime mover in her life, and although Anthea would do more or less anything that was asked of her Carol knew it was for the retainer she kept her on. On the other hand, it seemed to Carol that Philippa was truly devoted to her, and would be hers for nothing if need be.
Carol finished her tea and rose, slipping into the gown that Anthea held out for her. As she tied the cord, Carol looked at her naked slave's breasts.
"What size are you today, Anthea?" she asked.
"32b at the moment, Mistress," came the reply.
"We'll have them a bit bigger today, I think, Anthea."


"Mistress, they're starting to hurt..."
Carol Vorderman unplugged the saline pump from the valve under Anthea's arm and stood back to admire her work. She picked up the tape measure and put it around her slave.
"Hmmm. 32dd - that's more like it. You can bring my breakfast now, Anthea."
"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."
Carol watched as her slave tottered off, enormous breasts jiggling obscenely. It had cost a fortune, that boob job. It was a complex operation, fitting adjustable implants, but had been worth every penny.

As she breakfasted, she reflected. She had been at the top of her profession now for many years, due in no small part to her guile and ability to judge a persons weakness and exploit it for her own ends. She thought of Richard Whitely, the host of Countdown, the show on which Carol had started her climb to the top. He had a fatal flaw in his personality; he loved to be humiliated by a strong woman. Carol had discovered this early on, and had used it to her own ends. He had contacts in the business, and in return for certain rewards was prepared to help her further her career. He was a naturally witty man, quick thinking and charming, and it amused Carol that she had decreed that he should come across as a bumbling fool on the show in order to win her favours. She could see the often almost intolerable strain showing on his reddened, sweating face as he struggled to find suitably bad jokes and puns with which to debase himself. If he had shown himself up enough, after the show she would let him crawl around behind her in her spacious dressing room pretending to be a dog. She would throw toys for him to fetch, and let him sleep at her feet, curled up under her dressing table. Very occasionally she would stretch her legs out and let him masturbate over her shoes, lying on the floor with his trousers around his knees. Of course, he had to polish them up with his tongue afterward. She enjoyed his degradation so much she was still doing the show over twenty years on.

She thought of other little jokes she had played on those in her thrall; Philippa, for instance. Carol had made sure she was given the job of hosting the BBC Sunday morning religious programme The Heaven and Earth Show after Philippa had told her about her early life as a teenager in a convent school where she was persecuted by one particularly sadistic nun, who would rape Philippa brutally with a Crucifix, beating her with it if Philippa failed to orgasm. 'God can always spot a faker!' she would cry, as she rained blows down upon Philippa's cowering body. Conversely, or perhaps perversely, Philippa found that if she resisted coming while being fucked with the crucifix the beating would make her cum with an even more powerful orgasm. Even now, Philippa had confessed, the sight of a nun on the street would invariably make her unbelievably wet.
It seemed to Carol that the nun had unwittingly tapped into a subconcious desire for domination within Philippa - perhaps it was that treatment that had caused Philippa to turn into the submissive slut that she was, craving love and approval.

More recently of course, had been Ulrika Jonsson's show, Dog Eat Dog. Carol had given her this show to present following her forced initiation into the world of animal sex with Big Ben, the enormously endowed and very virile canine pornstar. Carol had even been instumental in choosing the name of the show, inspired as she was by seeing Ulrika Jonsson, the doggiest dog she knew sucking on Big Ben's huge, veiny penis.
She wasn't averse to making Anthea masturbate with a Cadbury's Snowflake, either. The sight of Anthea's unhappy face as she slid the melting stick of chocolate in and out of her pussy while she ruminated on one of the reasons the viewing public had tired of her particular brand of somewhat brittle charm always brought a smile to Carol's face.*
Sometimes, as a special treat she would tie Anthea to the bed and invite Eamon Holmes over to fuck her. His language as he did so would often make Anthea cry, a scenario which would spur huge orgasms in the watching Carol. Eamon would usually finish off over her face, coating the flinching girl with spurts of cum while invariably crying out something like 'You don't look so much the Little Miss Tippy Toes now, do you, you slut!'
It made Carol smile. He was so misguided when it came to slutty behaviour in women. He didn't seem to believe that a seemingly innocent type could be anything other than properly behaved. If only he knew what dirty things she and Fiona Philips had got up to in Fiona's dressing room toilet at Fiona's behest last time she'd been on their show he'd cum in his pants everytime he sat next to her on that sofa!


Her mind went back to her present troubles. It was getting out of hand, this vendetta with Ulrika and Angus. Something had to be done, but what? She recalled the last time something like this had happened. Nobody had ever known there was something going on, but someone had threatened to expose her, to reveal on the programme they presented about her secret life. The bribes, the extortion, the blackmail, and above all, the sexual perversion. She was too straightlaced for her own good, that Jill Dando. One lesbian advance and she'd blown her top. Carol never did find out how she'd found out about the rest of it, but she'd managed somehow. She'd invited Carol around to her place and shown her the evidence. The bitch.
A Crimewatch Special - Carol Vorderman Revealed, that's what she'd threatened. Carol didn't blame herself, she'd just done what she'd had to do. She had plenty of connections, and it had been easy to procure the gun. After that, she had popped around to see her 'old friend' Jill and that was that. Problem solved.
Setting up an alibi had been simple. Like any celebrity Carol had an 'admirer' who was obsessed with her. She could tell by his many letters to her that he was simple minded, but essentially harmless. Using her contacts it hadn't been difficult to track him down. After a few fucks and sucks he'd agreed to take the blame if anything ever happened to Dando, and Carol had left him with a vague promise that when he got out he could come round whenever he liked and 'do things to her'. Carol knew he'd never be released.
She finished her breakfast, and as Anthea cleared the things away and went upstairs to run the bath Carol went to see what Philippa had to say for herself.

It was a fine, if chilly morning in the garden as Carol looked down at her slave. Philippa lay curled up in her basket, wrapped in an old coat from a charity shop. A faded duvet covered her, her head covered by an old woolly hat. A sheen of morning dew coated her face. She was only made to sleep out here if she'd been bad. Carol nudged her gently with the toe of her slipper.
"Wake up, Philippa. It's time to come in now."
Philippa Forrester squinted up at her Mistress, blinking at the brightness of the autumn sun. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, stretched, then grimaced. It had been freezing out last night, and she ached.
"Thank you, Mistress."

The kettle clicked off as Carol spooned the coffee into the cup. As she poured in the water Philippa, still wrapped in the coat, continued her story.
"So they made me come back with them. I didn't want to, but they said they wanted to show me something that would ruin you if it got out. They said if I didn't go it would be bad for you. I had to go with them, Mistress."
She looked miserably at Carol's back. She couldn't tell what her Mistress was thinking. "They drove me to her house and then they showed me the polaroid photo with the blood all over your face. I thought at first that they'd hit you. After that they showed me some of the video, and then gave me a dress to change into. They said if I did whatever they wanted they'd leave you alone. When I had changed they tied my hands up and took me into the garden where the rest happened."
Carol sighed and handed Philippa the steaming mug.
"Here", she said to her slave, "this'll warm you up. Now, let me get this straight." She squatted down, eyes level with Philippa's. "You went through all that because you were trying to protect me. Is that right?"
Philippa nodded.
"But then you got excited and had to bring yourself off, didn't you?"
Philippa's lip trembled. She looked down at the mug, cupped in both hands.
"Do you want to explain that to me, Philippa?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress."
"What do you mean you're sorry? Sorry for what?"
Philippa sniffed, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I thought you'd be pleased with me because I helped and then I got excited and then I couldn't help myself, Mistress. Really I couldn't. They were going to hurt you..."
"I think they're still intending to, Philippa. But to end up wanking yourself..."
"It was what they were doing to me, too, Mistress. I felt I was being useful, like I am to you."
This made sense to Carol. Philippa did like to be used; that was when she was at her happiest. Carol thought back to the night of her humiliation at the hands of Ulrika, Paul Merton, Angus Deayton and the hated, weasely Hislop.
When she'd got back she was fuming. She had woken Philippa, then taken her to the cellar and given her the harshest treatment, and Philippa had been happy to let her do it as she knew it helped her Mistress to think and resolve her problems. The marks from that night had taken ages to disappear. She really was something special, this one. Although she still needed chastisement for what she'd done, Carol felt a lot of affection for her. She leaned forward and put her arm around her slave.
"Come on, let's go upstairs. You've got bed hair from wearing that hat all night, and you smell like damp leaves. Anthea's run a bath for me - I'm sure there'll be room for both of us. It'll help you warm up. Come on..."
Taking Philippa's hand she led her through the door.


Together the two women slipped into the foaming bath. The heat of the water relaxed them, and their tensions were released. They began to play with each other's bodies, the soapy water smoothing the journey of their hands over each others breasts and buttocks. Every now and then lather splashed over the side onto the floor as they frolicked around giggling like young girls. Philippa opened her legs as Carol traced a line down her body then slipped a finger into her waiting pussy and began to masturbate her.
Carol watched as the motion of her finger sliding in and out caused small waves to lap against Philippa's thighs, then drew her eyes up to her slaves face. Philippa, knees up and legs spread wide, looked back at her with big, trusting eyes. Suddenly, Carol was reminded of another, distant place and time. An after-school sleepover, her best friend from school, a bath such as this, and her first lesbian experience. The first time she'd touched another girl's body, the warm feeling as they hugged and then kissed, their tongues exploring each others mouths, then moving down each other's bodies to experience other tastes, other sensations.She felt herself growing misty eyed at this memory, and her heart began to soften. Then she remembered where she was and grew stern again. Pull yourself together, woman, she thought, that would never do.
Philippa must learn.

Carol got out of the bath first, and turned to Philippa. "You just lay back, relax and enjoy the bubbles. Come through to the bedroom as soon as you're ready."
Philippa sank down wallowing luxuriously in the lather. She had been forgiven. Everything was alright! After a while she stepped out of the bath and towelled herself dry, then casually walked naked into the bedroom.
As she stepped in through the doorway, she stopped. Her Mistress, dressed in a black leather catsuit and high, stiletto heeled boots was sitting on the bed fondling Anthea's large naked breasts, her head lowered as she sucked on one of Anthea's nipples. Philippa felt a pang of jealousy run through her.
Carol raised her head and saw her slave standing there.
"Ah, there you are, my dear Philippa. I was just passing the time waiting for you. Come in."
Phillipa, happy again, walked into the room.

As she approached, Carol spoke in a deceptively quiet voice."Now, Philippa - who's been a bad slave, then? You know what I'm referring to, I don't need to remind you. I really did think I could expect better behaviour from you than that..."
Philippa shuddered, and her step faltered at the ominous tone of her mistress's voice.

"But Mistress, I did explain..."
"I said, who's been a bad slave?" Carol's voice was stern now, and Philippa blanched.
"I have," she said falteringly.
"Can't hear you. Say it again, and say it louder."
"I have, Mistress" Philippa repeated again, louder this time. She felt nervous at the way this was going.
"Yes, Philippa, you have. And tell me what happens to slaves who misbehave?"
"But I thought..."
"It's not your job to think. It's your job to obey. Now, I'll ask you once more. What happens to slaves who misbehave?"
Philippa, flustered, began to stammer. "They, they get p-punished, Mistress."
"Thank you Philippa. Yes, they get punished. Indeed they do..."
Carol stood up. Already taller than Philippa, she now towered a good eight inches above her slave. Philippa looked up at her mistress, clad in gleaming black leather, and unconsciously adopted a submissive pose, feet apart, hands behind back.
Her Mistress spoke again. "Go to the dressing table and fetch me the chair. I also want the tray on the dresser beside it." She turned to her other slave, still naked on the bed. "Anthea, go to the bathroom and fetch the bowl."
While Anthea left the room Philippa walked across to the dresser, put the tray on the lightly padded dresser chair and carried them both over to her waiting Mistress.

As she put the chair down Anthea returned, carrying a bowl full of hot water. A bar of soap floated in it.
"Anthea," Mistress Carol motioned to her slave, "sit down on the floor facing me, cross legged and back straight so that your breasts stick out. No slouching. I paid for them, and I like to see them. Don't move unless I tell you to."
"Yes mistress."

Carol put the tray on the bed and sat down on the chair. "Right, Phillipa - I want you to put yourself over my knee, now."
Phillipa did, and immediately hung her head submissively. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror-like sheen of the polished wooden floor she pondered. She knew she was in for a spanking, but the bowl of water puzzled her.
"Philippa, keep your head up. Anthea, pass me the bowl, please dear."
Philippa raised her head as Anthea leapt up, breasts jiggling. Carol put the tray on Philippa's back, then placed the bowl upon the tray. Philippa felt the momentary cold of the tray turn to warmth as the heat from the water in the bowl warmed it through. She heard Carol swishing the soap around in the water; that would cause it to melt. She still couldn't figure out what her Mistress had in mind.

Carol handed the tray containing the bowl of water back to Anthea, then spoke to her prone slave. "Now, Philippa you have been sullied by my great enemies, Ulrika Jonsson and Angus Deayton. In my eyes you are dirty, and so, my dear Philippa, you need a good cleansing! Therefore, Anthea is going to wash your mouth out with soap and water. Open your mouth."

Philippa felt an edge of panic as Anthea took the soap and pressed it roughly against her lips then pushed it fully in and began to rub it against her teeth and tongue. It tasted disgusting, some horribly fruity flavour.When she was a little girl she'd licked some apple-scented soap that had smelt delicious. It had tasted horrible, but it was nothing compared to this. The sweet, heady scent filled her nose and she felt nauseous. Her cheeks began to bulge and soapy bits dribbled down the corners of her mouth. Every now and then the soap would slip from Anthea's fingers and she would reach in to pull it back, causing Philippa to gag. Anthea grinned at her. She was jealous of her Mistress' favourite,and she enjoyed Philippa's discomfort.

"I said you need to be punished, so you shall be. I'm going to spank you, and I want you to hold that bar of soap in your mouth while I do. No spitting it out; do that and I won't be pleased."
Anthea released the soap and Philippa closed her mouth. The soap was mushy and wet in her mouth, and she began to salivate uncontrollably.
Carol started to pat Philippa's bottom, gently at first, to get the blood flowing, then becoming harder and more insistent. She shifted her position so that Philippa's legs parted, showing her pussy. It was already wet and juicy, Carol noted. Philippa really was a catch...

Philippa couldn't help herself, she was so excited at the way her Mistress was treating her. She felt Carol change position causing her legs to part. Now her Mistress would see how wet she was! She might get punished for that, too; the thought of it made her even more excited.
Her cheeks were hot: hot and glowing, her bum just starting to redden.She raised her bottom up toward her Mistress - she wanted to make sure she could see everything, a blatant display of how turned on she was. The spanking itself, the humiliation of the position she found herself in, even the foul taste in her mouth - she was turned on by it all. Her mouth overflowed with saliva, and she began to drool as her Mistress continued the beating.

Suddenly Carol stopped. All this spanking was making her hand sore. What could she do to make the job easier? Ah - she knew just the thing! Something she could use to teach Philippa the error of her ways that would bring back a memory of this day every time she saw them...
"Anthea, go to Philippa's room and bring me back her favourite sandals - those Scholl ones."

Anthea leapt up, breasts wobbling, and nearly overbalanced, so keen was she to do the bidding of her Mistress. She came back with the Dr. Scholl sandals and passed them to Carol, before resuming her cross legged position on the floor.
Carol placed one sandal on Philippa's back and patted the other against her hand. Yes, she thought to herself, this will do nicely.
"Now," She said to her recumbent slave, "where were we?"

She resumed the spanking, this time of course much harder because of the shoe. The sandal was wooden and had a large sole, therefore it caused a firmer blow, an also covered a wider area than the palm of her hand.
Philippa tried to bite her lips to stop from making a sound, but couldn't. She began to whimper.
The sound made Carol redouble her efforts and Philippa began to moan openly. Spittle was going everywhere and the pain from the cheeks of her red, throbbing bottom was extensive. She was spitting and coughing, drooling soap out of her mouth and nose as the strokes got harder and harder, but at the same time such strong vibrations were coursing through to her clit that she knew she would eventually have to come.

Carol suddenly stopped, exhausted with her efforts, and stood up. The spare Dr.Scholl skidded across the room with a clatter as Philippa fell hard onto the floor in a feotal position. She was dying to masturbate, but daren't.
Her Mistress spoke. "I want you on all fours. Keep your head down and your behind raised. You can spit the soap into Anthea's hand." She waited as Philippa spat the slimy, disintegrating bar into Anthea's hand. "Now, Anthea place it in the other end."
Anthea stood up and walked round to Philippa's rear end, and with the gooey mess in the palm of the hand slapped it against the crack of Philippa's bum, mashing it hard against her. Philippa then felt a stinging pain in her anus as Anthea's finger forced the soap into her hole.
At the same time Carol stood in front of her and pulling her hair forced her head up and her mouth into her pussy. Philippa was still dribbling due to the soap, but she was totally lost as she licked and sucked at her Mistress' pussy, willingly and obediently until Carol came. She was lost herself: she had to come; she reached round with her hand and put her fingers between her thighs desperately masturbating herself. The soap oozing from her arse mixed with the juices from her dripping pussy and she too came, noisily and with soapy bubbles dripping from her orifices!

Afterward, Philippa lay on the floor, limp and exhausted. She was lying in a puddle, a mixture of soap, water and her own saliva, and her hair was hanging down in the soapy, sticky mess on the floor. She would need another bath. Right now though, she didn't care what she looked like. Her thoughts were on her Mistress. She was hoping against hope that she had pleased her and she was in the clear again.

Carol, sitting at the dressing table finished the line of coke she'd chopped and studied her face in the mirror. Most men (and many women) would still consider her beautiful, would want to take her to bed if they had the chance, but she could see a difference. Fine lines around the mouth here, a firming of the frown lines there. The last few months had taken their toll. She was tired of this battle with Ulrika and Angus. She could get the lines sorted out, but the situation casing them, well, something had to give.
During the spanking she had been thinking: her concentration level was high when inflicting pain on others. She had to admit now to a sneaking admiration for her two protagonists, particularly Ulrika; she had underestimated that girl. Ulrika had played her at her own game and matched her move for move. Carol still felt Ulrika wasn't her equal by a long way, but there was a
possiblilty that helped by Angus she could cause trouble - it seemed to be heading that way. Maybe she should work out some sort of deal with them.
She would set up a meeting.

*Try googling (on images setting) 'anthea turner snowflake'...
************************************************** ****

[davesmistress]

--> Ulrika’s Revenge: Part 6

by

Jack anory (noangel1232004@yahoo.co.uk) & Alexia Fan



That's it then, what do you think?"

Carol Vorderman looked across the table and frowned. It hadn't gone well, this meeting.

At least not from her point of view.

She'd put together a presentation to 'sell' her idea complete with pie-charts, percentages and projected profit diagrams, and the response she'd got from the other two was minimal. They'd spent the entire meeting touching each other up and giggling. She looked over again, and as she did the man pulled his hand out from under the table, raised his finger to his nose and began to sniff it. Right - that was the last straw!

Carol banged the table with the flat of her hand. "Fucking pay attention, you two - I'm trying to find a way to sort out our differences!" Ulrika Jonsson and Angus Deayton glanced at each other, mock expressions of shock on their faces, then began to giggle again. This was good; it was going their way - they had got to Carol. Finally, Ulrika spoke. "Let me get this straight - you're offering us a percentage of the money you collect from your slaves and in return we cease hostilities? Carol nodded.

Angus spoke. "So, we get fifty percent of the monies levied on all your slaves including Liza Tarbuck, Michaela Strachan, Smillie, Hannah Spearitt and Wendy Turner-Webster? Carol nodded again. "But not her sister Anthea, or Philippa Forrester?" Carol shook her head. "No, Anthea is on my payroll and as for Philippa, well, Philippa is different."

"How do you mean different?" "Philippa is sort of er... well, I mean to say she's..." Carol trailed off. She could feel herself blushing.

Playing for time, she picked up her coffee spoon and despite her current predicament appreciated the aroma of her favourite spice, cinnamon sprinkled on top of her coffeee. She spooned up the frothy milk, delaying her answer.

Ulrika didn’t mind waiting. She knew she had Mistress Carol exactly where she wanted her. Ulrika thought to herself, Mistress Carol that’s a joke, she’s proved to be fallible, a bit of a disappointment really. Carol had proved herself to be a puppet rather than a mistress. It wouldn’t take much more to bring her down completely.

"Philippa isn't up for discussion," Carol finally managed to blurt out. A look passed between Ulrika and Angus, then Angus spoke. "We agree to your terms, but there's one thing more that we want." Carol raised an eyebrow. "And that is...?" "Philippa". Carol caught her breath. Her mouth went dry. They wouldn't... "Philippa?" she managed to croak.

"Philippa," replied Angus. "We know she's your favourite, and we think she'll be a very good slave for us. In fact, I'm sure she'll perform very satisfactorily." "Perform?" Ulrika spoke. "We've heard Phillipa is not adverse to anything that's asked of her - don't forget you tried to make me one of your slaves, and I know from personal experience there's not much she won't do." Carol shook her head. "But that's for me - her Mistress. She wouldn't do it for anyone else." Ulrika looked her in the eye. "I think we proved you wrong there, Carol - what about when she was tied up in the netting, she was so turned on with me pissing over her and Angus thrusting in and out of her that she ended up wanking." A desperate tone entered Carol's voice. "But that was different - she got turned on because thought she was helping me. She couldn't help herself." Angus smirked. "Yeah, right. Allegedly..."

Carol sat silently, her confidence in tatters. Now Ulrika spoke, voice quiet and steady. She held the cards and she knew they were all stacked in her favour… and she intended to play them.

"That's our price, Carol, half of all your income from your slaves, plus Philippa becomes our property. You give her up, she becomes ours. Perhaps you'd like a few days to consider your options..."

Silently Carol got up from the table and without looking at either of her two tormentors haughtily left the coffee shop. Ulrika and Angus watched as the door closed behind her, then laughed. "Another cappuccino?"

Carol was fuming as she hailed the taxi. How dare they; how fucking dare they? Who did they think they were? Trying to dictate terms, trying to take her Philippa away from her. Climbing into the waiting cab she slammed the door, barking her address to the driver. The driver looked in his mirror, then did a double take, checking his mirror again. Something about the woman perched on the back seat looked familiar. She looked like that woman off the telly, what was her name? Carol Vorderman, that was it - Carol Vorderman, in his cab! He knew a few drivers who'd had her as a fare before; very ladylike but sexy with it, they'd said. Often made a show of her legs, flashing loads of thigh, then smiling as the driver tried to concentrate on his job. He knew more than one driver who boasted of getting a blow job from her as a tip for getting her to her destination early. Carol Vorderman, eh? Well, well... He took another look, and a puzzled expression crossed his face. Was it her? She did look similar, but something didn't look right. Carol Vorderman was a foxy, cool looking celebrity babe - like the other drivers had said, ladylike but sexy with it; that was not what he was looking at here. What he could see was a face distorted in anger, mouth turned down, body tense and stiff; a scowling, frowning old biddy. Nah, couldn't be Carol Vorderman; he'd been mistaken. Whoever it was had looked like her at first, though. Aah well, shame, that. It would've been one to tell the lads at the rank. He sighed, put the car in gear and pulled away.

When they reached Carol's home she sorted out the fare without a word, got out of the car and slammed the door so hard the whole car shook. She stormed into the house, deep in thought. What was she to do? She walked through to her office. This was her control centre. She kept all her papers here, details of her finances, personality profiles of her slaves, everything. Along one wall were numerous books on psychology. Very useful, psychology. Body language for instance. You can find out a lot about a person by how they respond to you physically, and could steer a person to a conclusion you required by leading or mirroring body language. Carol had learned that a long time ago. None of this knowledge could help her in the current situation, however. She sat at her desk and flicked on the monitor of the surveillance system. With a manicured finger she jabbed at a button on the console, then gripped the joystick ready to steer the camera. The button was marked 'Philippa'. Philippa sat at her computer in her favourite chat room. She'd discovered it a while ago when surfing the net. Via links on other websites she'd found a place called Bianca's Community. It had a lot of chatrooms, and one of these, Mojo, had become a regular haunt. Tonight had been getting steamy, and she was having fun. Philippa moved the cursor to the send button, and with a click on the mouse her alter ego 'pip' posted another message. "Well, if we meet for coffee, what do you want me to do?"

Suddenly, she heard the motors on the camera mounted on the wall in her bedroom whirr into life. Her Mistress must be home! In a moment the camera would find her. Quickly, she minimized the chatroom window and brought up a second window.

The speaker on her dressing table crackled. "Philippa, it's me - what are you up to?" "Hello Mistress," Philippa replied happily, smiling up at the camera, "I've been playing on the computer! I was looking at these pictures of baby kittens - look, aren't they cute?" Carol homed the camera in on the computer screen. The picture flickered on her monitor as she checked out the images. Kittens! Philippa was like a child at heart, she thought, and smiled to herself. Baby kittens, indeed... Philippa looked up at the camera. "How's your day been, Mistress?" Carol looked at the image of Philippa on the screen. She looked so innocent as she gazed up at the camera. "I had a business meeting. I had to meet someone to work something out." "Did it go well?" "Not as well as I'd hoped, actually, Philippa." Philippa looked up admiringly at the camera. "Whatever it is I'm sure you'll be able to make it come out alright, Mistress." Carol felt her heart turn over. No, there was no way she could possibly turn her favourite slave over to those animals. She needs someone like me to protect her from harm, she thought, conveniently forgetting all the things she had made Philippa do.

Carol hit the button and the screen faded to black. This whole situation had got her rattled. What was she to do? Soemhow she’d find a way to defeat her nemesis…

Philippa saw the red light on the camera go out. She maximized the chatroom window once more, and saw a reply to her message…




* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



“It’s no good Mistress, I can’t do it.” Phillipa was sobbing in the arms of Mistress Carol. “Yes, you can, dear, you have to. I can’t let it be said that I can’t control or make my slaves do my will, so you’ll go out there and perform well. Exceptionally well…”


The men loved these parties, no expense was spared: it was all charged to the tv companies, so indulgence was the order of the day. The food had been carefully chosen by Carol, but they weren’t interested in the menu!

They walked in to the room to take their places around the table for a luxurious meal. They looked the picture of respectability from the waist up with their jackets, shirts and ties, but all had removed their trousers as requested on their invitation. They happily complied with this and took their seats around the table talking and laughing amongst their selves, looking forward to the coming events. They never knew what would happen!

Unbeknown to the men under the table was Anthea, Carol, and Angus. At a signal from Anthea, 3 men were about to get a surprise. The three crawled to a position each in front of a man, gently put their hands on both knees, and when the shiver of surprise had subsided, gently parted the men’s legs, leant forward and tentatively began to lick the men’s shaft. The penis’s jerked alive and the men shifted their position slightly in their chair. While eating they were about to get a blow job!

Under the table there was a lot of sucking, licking, and gentle nibbling going on. This was a first for Angus and he wondered what the man he was sucking would think if he knew it was a man. He picked up signals that the man was about to come and he increased the pressure around the man’s shaft. The first drops shot out, followed by a torrent. Angus gulped and swallowed, then licked all traces of juice from his cock. He turned his head to one side and saw Anthea and Carol doing the same. Cum was running down the sides of their mouth and he could see some in Carol’s hair. For all Carol’s normal air of authority he knew she was enjoying this, she was such a perverse bitch. As he watched they left the men and went to each other and kissed, transferring what little was left of the sperm to each other. It was so horny to watch, he was so hard and desperate to touch himself, but knew he must wait. Plenty of time.

Phillipa had been watching the men carefully and judged when the three men had come and called to the slaves to come out. The men stared in amazement as they appeared, as three of them was wondering whose cock Angus Deayton had been sucking. They had assumed wrongly that it was all women under the table. Phillipa told them to finish their meal while the final arrangements were being made for their entertainment.

“John Birt, step forward.” Commanded Phillippa. He stood up looking incongruous without his trousers but he arrogantly walked forward onto the stage. As he did the curtains opened to reveal a hospital bed and standing beside it was Anthea Turner dressed in a nurse’s uniform: white high heels, white hold ups and the shortest nurse’s dress which left nothing to the imagination. Her breasts which had been pumped up to 34DD were thrusting out of the uniform, buttons couldn’t be done up and on her head to finish it off she wore a little white nurses cap, the style of a few generations ago. The overall effect was saucy and as The Director General walked he could feel his penis hardening. She met him and taking him by the hand led him to the bed saying “John, I hear you’ve been a naughty boy.” “Yes, nurse I have.” he replied grinning like a schoolboy.

“Well you have to be punished then” speaking in a very officious tone. Anthea leaned over stretching further the fabric over her breasts, John penis jerked and she caught the movement. She picked up a pair of surgical gloves; pulling them over her hands and lifting the material gave a decisive slap to his penis.. His cock twitched further. Anthea gave his dick a gentle slap. She slapped it again this time harder and it twitched and stiffened even further.

“Get on the bed, face down,” she ordered. She stood to one side of him and ran her hand over his exposed cheeks, squeezing his flesh between her rubber-gloved fingers. Beneath her the DG gave a moan of anticipation. “Right. Keep still and no noise at all.” She began inflicting punishment, spanking him, each slap a bit harder, his flesh wobbling. She continued and her hand prints soon stood out on his skin which had turned a fiery red. He whimpered. “Stop that” she ordered “Or I won’t finish!!”

He froze.

She carried on but soon his movements couldn’t be repressed, she smiled.

“Now what do you say”

“I’m sorry” came his muffled reply.

She picked up a tube of cream and began to sooth his abused flesh, the ointment cooling his skin. She spread the cream all over his cheeks and around the entrance to his anus. Then she eased the tip of her cream covered finger into his tight ring. She ventured deeper, until she was applying pressure to his most sensitive spot. He lifted his hips towards her. “Don’t you dare come. If you do I won’t use the plug”

“I’m trying nurse, but it’s difficult.”

From beside her on a tray Anthea selected a white plastic anal plug. She slowly inserted the object deep inside him, twisting it to increase the sensation of being filled up. The DG grunted with pleasure and pain. She lodged the rim of the plug snugly against him. “Clench tightly and turn over slowly”

His face was flushed and muscles tense, he did as instructed. “Let me come now” he said pleadingly, looking down at his engorged cock. Anthea herself was feeling incredibly horny and she knew all the men watching must be also. Before she could speak from the side of the stage a loud voice was heard “You will come, when I’m ready for you to come and ONLY when I‘m ready for you to come..” The voice belonged to a confident Phillipa Forrester. As she was speaking she strode across the stage coming to stand before both of them. She was wearing shiny black thigh high boots with heels that she could barely stand on; a wide black leather belt, black leather straps around her wrists and a black push up bra. Her small breasts were forced up high and stuck out at an angle. Her nipples looked large and erect. She was carrying a long thin whip that swished along the ground as she walked. She stood in front of the DG, hands on hips, legs slightly apart, giving her audience a nice view of her backside and just a hint of her pussy.

Philipa flicked his engorged cock fairly gently with the strands of the whip, the DG flinched. She repeated, “You will come when I say so.”

“Enter, slaves” From the opposite side of the stage appeared a naked Angus Deayton and on either side of his arms was a woman. Both naked apart from they were wearing hold ups. Ulrika Jonsson in white and Carol Vorderman in black.

“Take your positions.” she instructed.

The women let go of Angus’s arms and took hold of the DG moving him at the far right of the stage, telling him to get on his knees, facing sideways to the audience. He did so carefully due to the butt plug! Angus then walked back over to Anthea Turner and with one swift movement pulled apart her clothing. Shrugging her shoulders she slipped off the dress leaving her naked, bar her white hold ups and stilleto shoes. Taking Angus’s arm they walked together over to the DG. She stood with her back to him and dropped down on all fours. The DG stooped down further, he was keen to get a taste of her pussy. With both hands he parted her bum cheeks and inserted two fingers into her vagina, twisting them, she was so wet, then he bent down and started licking.

Angus stayed next to the DG playing with his own erect cock. Ulrika took up her position in front of Anthea, down on all fours so that her pussy was lined up with Anthea’s mouth who immediately started licking her. Next up was Carol, placing herself in front of Ulrika’s mouth. Phillipa said to her, “first you must kiss my pussy, then slide your tongue deep inside my cunt, slave and do it good!” Carol lapped hungrily at her clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through Phillipa, and then she pulled her clit into her mouth and sucked on it hard. “No, slave. I said put your tongue in my cunt.” she said flicking the whip near Carol’s body.

Carol did so, her tongue becoming like a slippery snake.

The human train was made. John Birt was thrusting in and out of Anthea, her huge breasts dangling down, almost touching the floor.

Phillipa was waving her whip like a lion tamer: she ordered Carol “keep sucking, slave.” Angus was enjoying the view as he fondled himself and slapped his penis against Anthea’s backside. When he came, he spurted it all over her cheeks watching it run down the crack of her bum, mixing with the cum of John Birt, who was unable to contain himself any longer. His orgasm so intense, from both the visual and physical stimulation.

The men in the audience were all rapidly wanking, the smell of sex in the room was strong as the tension increased, there was going to be so much cum around as they all reached their climax…

The party continued…