TANDEM
Forget sun and sand and swimsuits and cheesy bars and sleazy boys-all I wanted for my Spring Break was to soak in some suffering and sadism. So, after zooming through my last exam and tossing it on the professor's desk an hour early, I grabbed my bags and bolted to the airport to get my Insex fix. It was so surreal being displayed in front of everyone in a live feed once again. I had been fantasizing about that moment for so long, and then, finally, there I was, standing with neck collared to a box, basking in my helplessness. Below me, 731's head poked out from the steel case. She was so quiet and still kneeling against the smooth steel, sometimes I almost forgot she was there. But soon enough PD made sure that I would not be distracted, even by his loud Hawaiian shirt. Standing in an arch with head forced back and ankles bound to 731's neck, I had to calculate every movement in my search for comfort in order to avoid strangling her. This was our first test in cooperation for the night. Our trials continued with 731 secured to a metal bed with head, wrists, and ankles in stocks while I sat gagged and bound in a chair, knowing that the only thing I could expect was the unexpected. Newcomer ariel was brought out to observe the action in the comfort of her cramped cage. I realized something bad was about to happen because PD turned down the chat's audio to share his evil plans with the members. He covered my eyes with a blindfold then stepped away. Next thing I knew, 731 was shrieking behind me. I would be next, I knew that. But next for what, I couldn't say. Suddenly, I felt the jolt against my thigh and realized that I had just encountered the dreaded cattle prod for the very first time. It wasn't the pain that got me, so much as the fear and uncertainty. When would he strike next, and where? He just kept stinging me with the thing and all I could do was wail and thrash and then whimper to comfort myself while I waited for the next shock. The connection between 731 and myself became increasingly stronger and more vital as the show progressed. At first we were sort of separate, dealing with our own different ordeals. Next we had to cooperate and communicate in consideration of each other's comfort. Then we shared a similar pain and were bound together in our suffering. But our next ordeal put 731 in a truly wicked dilemma that was an extreme test of this bond: in order to assure my welfare she would have to sacrifice her own. Folded into a latex bag and blinded with an inflated hood, I could hear the lashes against her skin as she was struck again and again. But 731 endured silently, saving me from being shocked by the voice-activated contacts clamped to my nipples. Her pain was so much worse than mine, I knew, and I wished there was some way I could tell her it was okay to cry or beg for him to stop. But 731 would've kept going anyway. As the electricity cut into my nipples the few times she did release a short, bleating sob, I squealed and jerked and blubbered pitifully, at the same time thinking about how much pain it must have taken to get poor, tough 731 to let out a yelp. When I was released from my latex restraints, I saw the thick welts from a brutal rawhide switch that traveled up and down her legs and even left bruises on her feet. I've said it before, but that's cause it's true: the girl is too amazing for words and she was my hero once again. After such an intense scene, it was time for a little game. 731 displayed yet another of her many talents, successfully lifting and transporting a bucket full of water supported on a dildo grasped tightly in her cunt. I, on the other hand, could not keep the plug in, even when one was forced into my ass. So, humiliated, I was sent to the corner to await my punishment for losing the competition. The caning I was sentenced to turned out to be more soothing and energizing than punishing. Bent over a spread-eagled 731, I decided that no matter what, I was going to take it without a sound. So that's what I did: I sort of sucked up the pain, let it flow through me, and used that energy to deal with the next blow. Even though she won the game, 731 was punished as well, doomed to endure one of her most hated torments: a forced orgasm. As PD vibrated her, I was instructed to sit on her face, pressing my weight down hard to deny her breath. When she asked permission to come I forced my pussy right against her mouth and lips, stifling her ecstatic moans. Then it was my turn. I didn't know if I could come standing up, leaning over 731 again. But suddenly I felt the rush and all my cells exploding. And I got that feeling that comes when I'm about to squirt and begged for him to stop, which, of course he refused to do. So I pushed my head down on 731 and tensed my muscles with all my might to keep from soaking her. The exertion and emotion was so great, tears started streaming down my face uncontrollably as I screamed and pleaded. PD persisted with the vibrator, but I knew there was no way I was going to pee on 731's face after all she had done for me that night. The fun continued the following day with two intense shoots that again tested our trust, cooperation, and consideration for each other. Lifted into an inverted suspension, we swung together while PD attacked us with the flogger and the singletail. I began to get motion sick and panicked, but knowing 731 was right there with me gave me strength and tenacity to settle down and hang in there. Next we were tied together, back to back, arms and legs intertwined, straddling a wooden rail. Now, I have suffered on a rail by myself before and it is agony, for sure. But still, I was able to make slight adjustments to get a little more comfortable. Being on the horse with another girl is a completely different thing. Bound into a single unit, our pussies pressed fiercely against the pointed wood, we wobbled and swayed. We had to try and stabilize ourselves and keep still because what might be a better position for me could be even worse torture for her. T he nooses that supported us from above did little to provide piece of mind. Tipping, groaning, strangling, and just plain suffering, the two of us sat there, sweating on each other, terrified. I really believe it was our respect for the shoot and for each other that kept us going in spite of the unbearable pain. I could barely concentrate on anything but the pressure against my labia, but I remember thinking that unless I felt like I was going to die, I would sit there with 731. If I safeworded, I thought, what am I saying? That my pain is somehow more important than hers? That I don't understand that she, also, is suffering the same way? So we waited and we dealt and we stared out into space, often oblivious to the video and still pictures. Then we both breathed a huge sigh of relief when finally we were let down to gingerly peel our throbbing crotches off the wood. Now Spring Break's almost over and I will head back to school relaxed and refreshed with my sore labia, aching legs, and striped butt to remind me that it was all really real. And when I say that I was tied up for much of the vacation and did a lot of girl bonding, few will know just how true that is.