23-05-2020, 02:57 AM
Just looking at the spectacle made the former cheerleading coach feel both scared and excited at the same time. She was getting intoxicated at watching the pure humiliation of this woman. Especially after the way Jen had treated her in the kitchen. So when Trish offered the marker to her coach, with a wicked smile, Miss Simons painted the Jen's nose black.
As the sobbing cowgirl held her face still, she shot daggers at the former coach coloring her. Finished, Miss Simons put the marker back inside the cow's mouth and watched as she moved on to the next tormenting black girl. Miss Simons continued to watch the degrading scene as Trish bent down again and whispered.
"Does any of this excite you Miss Simons?"
The coach didn't answer.
"Jennifer always pretends that she absolutely hates this. Being treated like a cow and humiliated for all these black women. Just by looking at her you would think this was pure torture for he, and it is. But take a look between those chubby thighs of hers. What do you see?"
Miss Simons looked at the heavy thighs of the older woman, and saw what young Trish was talking about. The insides of Jen's thighs were wet. Very wet. She was indeed getting off on this. Being humiliated was definitely turning the horny old cow on.
All in all Jen made her way around the circle ten times. Each trip she gingerly dipped her breasts into the cold milk. By the end, black patches covered almost every part of her pale body. As she knelt once again at Miss Brown's feet, spreading her knees apart, the high level executive, still covered from head to toe in black permanent marker, began shamelessly playing with herself. "The horny old cow" thought Miss Simons. However, she was also becoming aware of her own sticky inner thighs.
--
"Dame me, how could I have gotten so turned on?" Miss Simons cursed herself as the warm shower water continued to splash against her now relaxed body.
"I should have felt so bad for her, being made to prance around the room like a freaking cow. Where was my sympathy? Instead all I did was color her nose. Where is my humanity? How could I get wet watching a fellow white woman being degraded like that?"
But instead of shame, all she felt was her pussy give yet another spasm. She refrained from hitting it this time, choosing rather to just ignore it, afraid that spanking it would only make things worse. Instead she reached up and turned the water off. It was getting late and she needed to get some much needed rest.
As she dried herself off, her mind started wondering again. Back to that dame party. Back to the scene with the poor young woman. She didn't want to recall it. It was too horrible. Even if it had gotten her more excited than ever watching it, she just couldn't bare to recall the degrading, perverse scene in her mind.
Shaking the images of Samantha, tied and hanging from the ceiling, venerable to the wicked intentions of her black owners, Miss Simons wrapped the towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom.
Choosing the usual nightgown, she covered her body and prepared for bed. Yes, she really needed a good nights sleep. But what about Samantha? Would she be getting a good night sleep in the basement? Did she actually have a bed down there or did they put her in some sort of cage? And how could she possibly fall asleep after what she just went through? How could she sleep without images of those soft, but very cruel feathers gliding along her trembling body? Oh the agony she must have been going through.
Miss Simons was now lying upon her bed, unable to stop herself from again recalling the events of the night. Unable to stop herself from remember the lustful look on Jennifer's face as she took her place on the floor next to Miss Brown, fingers wedged in her cunt, fresh milk still dripping from the base of her tits.
All the women began clapping as Miss Brown patted her pet on the head, signaling that Jennifer was indeed finished and had done an excellent job.
"Good girl, you are such a good cow." Miss Simons couldn't help but think how ironic it was. Jennifer was her boss, with the power to practically fire Miss Brown. Yet despite that power, it was Jennifer kneeling naked at her feet and covered from head to toe with black patches.
"Ok girls, who should we watch next?" Miss Simons' heart began filling with fear. She didn't want to be next, if not at all. She couldn't bare to go through something similar to what Jennifer had. But fortunately for her, every one was shouting out for Samantha. Apparently she was a big favorite.
Watching with ever growing amazement and curiosity, Miss Simons watched the bald girl rise from her kneeling position without a hint of rebellion and walk to the center of the room. Her arms were tied together with rope and attached to a pulley on the ceiling, which Miss Simons had only now noticed. Soon she was lifted off the ground and left hanging a good two feet. In that vulnerable position, two other black women held her ankles up and behind her, exposing the soles of her feet.
Finally, Orlanda opened up her own brown box and took out 5 long, white feathers. Immediately all the black women were jumping to get at one of them. Miss Simons noticed that Samantha was slightly shaking as Orlanda gave them away.
Soon there where seven or eight girls gathered around a shaking Samantha. The cheerleading coach looked over to Miss Brown and saw a very excited cowgirl watching from the floor. She was enjoying the show as well.
The coach turned her attention back to the spectacle in the center of the circle. A bucket was now being placed on the floor directly below and between Samantha's legs. There was laughter and conversation from all in attendance as the next entertainment was about to begin. The anticipation was killing the kneeling coach. "What are they going to do to her? What are they going to do with those feathers and the bucket?"
Her questions were soon answered as the eight girls began to lightly touch Samantha's body. Caressing it with the tips of there fingers or the feathers. This confused Miss Simons. What exactly were they doing to her? But the strain on Samantha's face told her the answer.
As the black women continued to lightly touch the bald girl's body, Samantha struggled to compose herself. But soon she was giving out restrained giggles. Her eyes were starting to tear up as the women began focusing on certain areas of her body. The women began running their finger nails and feathers against the souls of her feet, under her arms, stomach, chest, neck, behind the legs.
Samantha was now openly laughing uncontrollably and sobbing at the same time. And it was clear that it was laughter of utter torment, not humor. Samantha was wriggling in her bonds, desperately trying to get away from the evil fingers as the tormenting women showed no signs of stopping. By now one of the black women found themselves between Samantha's open legs and began teasing her cunt with a feather. Samantha let out a scream to stop, but the woman continued to mercilessly torment the sensitive flesh.
Miss Simons was in awe of the sight before her, eight black women tickling a bald white woman.
After a few minutes other women began replacing them, tickling the poor girl in new ways and places. By now Samantha was in complete agony, shaking against her ropes and laughing and sobbing freely.
After 10 minutes an exhausted Samantha finally lost complete control of herself and released her bladder, letting a stream of urine gush into the bucket below. "How utterly degrading" thought Miss Simons. "To be tickled to the point of loosing control of your most intimate bodily functions. In front of all these strangers no less!" Another shiver went through her body.
Yet Miss Simons hardly even realized her own two fingers working their way along her slit under the cheerleading skirt. The debasement was undoubtedly having an effect of the older woman. Watching as the black women tickled and tormented the submissive, bald white girl was shamefully turning her on.
Trish had noticed as well. In fact she had spent most of the session watching her new white pet. Looking for her every reaction to the scenes before her.
Trish had smiled as she saw the older woman begin playing with herself. It bode well for the young vixen. Oh yes, she had big plans for her former coach, tonight and in the future.
Trish wanted to encourage this response as she lowered her head and whispered again into Miss Simons' ear "Its ok baby, play with your little puss for me. Rub that wet clity of yours, I know how badly you enjoy watching the show. In fact, I bet you wish it were you performing. You wish it were you crawling along while being painted, mooing like a cow. OR perhaps you wish to be the one strung up there with your hair shaved off, being tickled to the point of loosing your bladder."
Miss Simons' eyes grew wide and she shook her head. No she didn't, couldn't possibly have wanted to be like those women. It would be too much. Too humiliating. Too....too....
"Why don't you raise up that nice little skirt Miss Simons and show everybody what your doing under there. Show them how much all this is turning you on."
Miss Simons whined as she did just that. She couldn't stop herself as she began lifting her mini cheerleading outfit to her hips, openly displaying to everyone who looked her very wet, horny pussy, and shamefully continued playing with it just like Jen was.
Apparently, Samantha loosing control of herself marked the end of her show. It appeared to be the goal of these women to tickle the poor bald girl until she had lost complete control of herself. They began lowering the still sobbing, shivering girl to the ground, where she quickly rolled up into a ball.
From Miss Simons view point, she could see the shiny glistening pink lips of Samantha. Just like Jen and herself, Samantha to was all wet.
--
Back on her bed Miss Simons came from her mini trance. A trance that, despite her desire not to, again caused her to recount the debasement of the hours past. And to her total revulsion, she had been feverishly playing with her cunt the whole time.
Quickly she removed her hand from her sex. She could no longer deny it, she was incredible turned on by what had happened tonight. And she was no longer angry for feeling that way, just merely disappointed. She wanted to believe that it was all a lie what Jennifer said, that natural dominance was not a fact of life. That she really didn't want to be dominated by other black women. But her juicy fingers were proof of how she felt. She enjoyed watching those white women get treated like crap, and worse, herself.
She knew all too well who went next after Samantha's performance. It was her turn. Her's and Amber's.
Miss Simons buried her head in the pillow and started screaming "No...no". She couldn't, wouldn't remember it. It was just too much...Too intense....Too humiliating. Her and Amber ....together....with all those people watching. And that GIANT dildo, and that evil cane, and Trish's smacking hand.
No she would not allow herself to recall anymore. She refused to allow herself to do it. What was done was done, but she wasn't going to continue to relive her own degrading moments.
Turning off the light Miss Simons forced herself into a fitful sleep. Tomorrow was another day, and she'd start from there. Unfortunately for her, with sleep come dreams. Often vivid, nightmarish dreams of days past.
As the sobbing cowgirl held her face still, she shot daggers at the former coach coloring her. Finished, Miss Simons put the marker back inside the cow's mouth and watched as she moved on to the next tormenting black girl. Miss Simons continued to watch the degrading scene as Trish bent down again and whispered.
"Does any of this excite you Miss Simons?"
The coach didn't answer.
"Jennifer always pretends that she absolutely hates this. Being treated like a cow and humiliated for all these black women. Just by looking at her you would think this was pure torture for he, and it is. But take a look between those chubby thighs of hers. What do you see?"
Miss Simons looked at the heavy thighs of the older woman, and saw what young Trish was talking about. The insides of Jen's thighs were wet. Very wet. She was indeed getting off on this. Being humiliated was definitely turning the horny old cow on.
All in all Jen made her way around the circle ten times. Each trip she gingerly dipped her breasts into the cold milk. By the end, black patches covered almost every part of her pale body. As she knelt once again at Miss Brown's feet, spreading her knees apart, the high level executive, still covered from head to toe in black permanent marker, began shamelessly playing with herself. "The horny old cow" thought Miss Simons. However, she was also becoming aware of her own sticky inner thighs.
--
"Dame me, how could I have gotten so turned on?" Miss Simons cursed herself as the warm shower water continued to splash against her now relaxed body.
"I should have felt so bad for her, being made to prance around the room like a freaking cow. Where was my sympathy? Instead all I did was color her nose. Where is my humanity? How could I get wet watching a fellow white woman being degraded like that?"
But instead of shame, all she felt was her pussy give yet another spasm. She refrained from hitting it this time, choosing rather to just ignore it, afraid that spanking it would only make things worse. Instead she reached up and turned the water off. It was getting late and she needed to get some much needed rest.
As she dried herself off, her mind started wondering again. Back to that dame party. Back to the scene with the poor young woman. She didn't want to recall it. It was too horrible. Even if it had gotten her more excited than ever watching it, she just couldn't bare to recall the degrading, perverse scene in her mind.
Shaking the images of Samantha, tied and hanging from the ceiling, venerable to the wicked intentions of her black owners, Miss Simons wrapped the towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom.
Choosing the usual nightgown, she covered her body and prepared for bed. Yes, she really needed a good nights sleep. But what about Samantha? Would she be getting a good night sleep in the basement? Did she actually have a bed down there or did they put her in some sort of cage? And how could she possibly fall asleep after what she just went through? How could she sleep without images of those soft, but very cruel feathers gliding along her trembling body? Oh the agony she must have been going through.
Miss Simons was now lying upon her bed, unable to stop herself from again recalling the events of the night. Unable to stop herself from remember the lustful look on Jennifer's face as she took her place on the floor next to Miss Brown, fingers wedged in her cunt, fresh milk still dripping from the base of her tits.
All the women began clapping as Miss Brown patted her pet on the head, signaling that Jennifer was indeed finished and had done an excellent job.
"Good girl, you are such a good cow." Miss Simons couldn't help but think how ironic it was. Jennifer was her boss, with the power to practically fire Miss Brown. Yet despite that power, it was Jennifer kneeling naked at her feet and covered from head to toe with black patches.
"Ok girls, who should we watch next?" Miss Simons' heart began filling with fear. She didn't want to be next, if not at all. She couldn't bare to go through something similar to what Jennifer had. But fortunately for her, every one was shouting out for Samantha. Apparently she was a big favorite.
Watching with ever growing amazement and curiosity, Miss Simons watched the bald girl rise from her kneeling position without a hint of rebellion and walk to the center of the room. Her arms were tied together with rope and attached to a pulley on the ceiling, which Miss Simons had only now noticed. Soon she was lifted off the ground and left hanging a good two feet. In that vulnerable position, two other black women held her ankles up and behind her, exposing the soles of her feet.
Finally, Orlanda opened up her own brown box and took out 5 long, white feathers. Immediately all the black women were jumping to get at one of them. Miss Simons noticed that Samantha was slightly shaking as Orlanda gave them away.
Soon there where seven or eight girls gathered around a shaking Samantha. The cheerleading coach looked over to Miss Brown and saw a very excited cowgirl watching from the floor. She was enjoying the show as well.
The coach turned her attention back to the spectacle in the center of the circle. A bucket was now being placed on the floor directly below and between Samantha's legs. There was laughter and conversation from all in attendance as the next entertainment was about to begin. The anticipation was killing the kneeling coach. "What are they going to do to her? What are they going to do with those feathers and the bucket?"
Her questions were soon answered as the eight girls began to lightly touch Samantha's body. Caressing it with the tips of there fingers or the feathers. This confused Miss Simons. What exactly were they doing to her? But the strain on Samantha's face told her the answer.
As the black women continued to lightly touch the bald girl's body, Samantha struggled to compose herself. But soon she was giving out restrained giggles. Her eyes were starting to tear up as the women began focusing on certain areas of her body. The women began running their finger nails and feathers against the souls of her feet, under her arms, stomach, chest, neck, behind the legs.
Samantha was now openly laughing uncontrollably and sobbing at the same time. And it was clear that it was laughter of utter torment, not humor. Samantha was wriggling in her bonds, desperately trying to get away from the evil fingers as the tormenting women showed no signs of stopping. By now one of the black women found themselves between Samantha's open legs and began teasing her cunt with a feather. Samantha let out a scream to stop, but the woman continued to mercilessly torment the sensitive flesh.
Miss Simons was in awe of the sight before her, eight black women tickling a bald white woman.
After a few minutes other women began replacing them, tickling the poor girl in new ways and places. By now Samantha was in complete agony, shaking against her ropes and laughing and sobbing freely.
After 10 minutes an exhausted Samantha finally lost complete control of herself and released her bladder, letting a stream of urine gush into the bucket below. "How utterly degrading" thought Miss Simons. "To be tickled to the point of loosing control of your most intimate bodily functions. In front of all these strangers no less!" Another shiver went through her body.
Yet Miss Simons hardly even realized her own two fingers working their way along her slit under the cheerleading skirt. The debasement was undoubtedly having an effect of the older woman. Watching as the black women tickled and tormented the submissive, bald white girl was shamefully turning her on.
Trish had noticed as well. In fact she had spent most of the session watching her new white pet. Looking for her every reaction to the scenes before her.
Trish had smiled as she saw the older woman begin playing with herself. It bode well for the young vixen. Oh yes, she had big plans for her former coach, tonight and in the future.
Trish wanted to encourage this response as she lowered her head and whispered again into Miss Simons' ear "Its ok baby, play with your little puss for me. Rub that wet clity of yours, I know how badly you enjoy watching the show. In fact, I bet you wish it were you performing. You wish it were you crawling along while being painted, mooing like a cow. OR perhaps you wish to be the one strung up there with your hair shaved off, being tickled to the point of loosing your bladder."
Miss Simons' eyes grew wide and she shook her head. No she didn't, couldn't possibly have wanted to be like those women. It would be too much. Too humiliating. Too....too....
"Why don't you raise up that nice little skirt Miss Simons and show everybody what your doing under there. Show them how much all this is turning you on."
Miss Simons whined as she did just that. She couldn't stop herself as she began lifting her mini cheerleading outfit to her hips, openly displaying to everyone who looked her very wet, horny pussy, and shamefully continued playing with it just like Jen was.
Apparently, Samantha loosing control of herself marked the end of her show. It appeared to be the goal of these women to tickle the poor bald girl until she had lost complete control of herself. They began lowering the still sobbing, shivering girl to the ground, where she quickly rolled up into a ball.
From Miss Simons view point, she could see the shiny glistening pink lips of Samantha. Just like Jen and herself, Samantha to was all wet.
--
Back on her bed Miss Simons came from her mini trance. A trance that, despite her desire not to, again caused her to recount the debasement of the hours past. And to her total revulsion, she had been feverishly playing with her cunt the whole time.
Quickly she removed her hand from her sex. She could no longer deny it, she was incredible turned on by what had happened tonight. And she was no longer angry for feeling that way, just merely disappointed. She wanted to believe that it was all a lie what Jennifer said, that natural dominance was not a fact of life. That she really didn't want to be dominated by other black women. But her juicy fingers were proof of how she felt. She enjoyed watching those white women get treated like crap, and worse, herself.
She knew all too well who went next after Samantha's performance. It was her turn. Her's and Amber's.
Miss Simons buried her head in the pillow and started screaming "No...no". She couldn't, wouldn't remember it. It was just too much...Too intense....Too humiliating. Her and Amber ....together....with all those people watching. And that GIANT dildo, and that evil cane, and Trish's smacking hand.
No she would not allow herself to recall anymore. She refused to allow herself to do it. What was done was done, but she wasn't going to continue to relive her own degrading moments.
Turning off the light Miss Simons forced herself into a fitful sleep. Tomorrow was another day, and she'd start from there. Unfortunately for her, with sleep come dreams. Often vivid, nightmarish dreams of days past.
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