I began to object that I had not been instructed to, but then thought better of it. "Sorry, Mistress, please forgive me," I begged.
"Ten more swats ought to be enough to remind you to count out your spankings," she jeered, as once again she pulled harshly on my now-erect member in order to keep it in place.
"One," I called out as she planted the first swat on my bottom. I followed each additional swat accordingly until a grand total of twenty made my ass burn.
Finally she released my raging erection and let me stand. "Now get dressed. I have another surprise for you," she said nonchalantly, as she pointed to my chastity device and the jeans and sweater she already had prepared for me.
I walked over and put on the sweater, but was unable to get my shorts back on due to my aroused state. Jess noticed and walked towards me and then grabbed my cock firmly and pulled me by it to the patio door. Before I knew what was going on, she had thrown me outside wearing just a sweater in the middle of November.
"You can come back in when 'that' is gone," she said in anger, gesturing towards my erection. "And don't even think of jerking off." Then she slammed the door.
The only good thing about it was that it was already getting pretty dark out, so I do not think anyone saw me, and the cold caused my erection to dwindle rather quickly. Unfortunately Jess had disappeared from sight and left me outside several minutes longer than necessary to get the desired effect.
Finally when she returned, she grabbed my arm and pulled me back in. "I don't have time for this," she announced harshly, as she took it upon herself to put my bondage back on.
She was not gentle about it in the least bit. She forced my cock and balls into their cage and locked them tight as though they were a rabid dog she was taking to the pound, never to be heard from again. I winced several times as she locked it in place; then she tossed me my jeans and told me to hurry up as she opened the door to the garage and got in the car. I quickly pulled up my pants, slipped on my shoes, and then joined her in the car.
She drove for several minutes without saying a word. Occasionally I would look over to see a smirk on her face. It was obvious to me she was pleased with the devious idea she had running through her mind.
A couple minutes more passed before she pulled up to a bowling alley. She stopped at the entrance and gave me my instructions, "Go to lane 13 and sit down in one of the chairs. You will do whatever they ask you to do." Then she pulled a key from her pocket and pushed it into the front left pocket of my jeans. "Don't take that out. They will if they want to."
I took a deep breath as I prepared to enter the smoke-filled alley. I had no idea what I was walking into. As I opened the doors, I looked around to see that almost everyone in the place was a woman. It appeared as though it was a ladies league, but that did not seem to lessen the amount of smoke or beer flowing. That was when I started to realize something. Most of these women looked like softball players and gym teachers.
As I looked around the room I noticed a few relatively attractive women, but most fit the profile of your typical bull dyke. Many had short spiked hair, little make up, men's jeans, etc. My blood ran cold. What had Jess set me up for?
Slowly I walked toward lane 13. I felt as though every eye in the place was on me, and I am sure that was not too far from true. When I got to thirteen there were four women there wearing matching green bowling shirts. I sat down in the waiting area behind them not wanting to bother them. It was obvious they were in the midst of a heated competition.
I sat there for several more minutes as I watched each of them bowl a couple frames in turn. Finally one of them stepped up onto the carpeted area where I sat and walked toward me. The name on her shirt read 'Vicky'. She could not have been more than five foot tall with short brown hair, spiked, with blond highlights. She had a pretty face with big brown eyes and thin lips. It was very hard to get a look at her build thanks to her bulky bowling shirt that she wore untucked almost to the middle of her thighs. Her baggy blue jeans and bowling shoes did not help her look either.
"You must be our slave," she smirked, as she walked up to me. "Jess tells me you will do whatever we tell you to. Is that right?"
"Yes," I replied, still not knowing what to expect.
"Good, go get us a pitcher of beer and some cheese sticks." Then she turned and stepped back down to join the rest of the ladies on lane thirteen.
Without hesitation I stood and went to complete her order. I was more than happy to play waiter at this point and was going to make the most of it. As a matter of fact I spent the next couple hours doing just that. Apparently when I arrived they had just gotten started on a three game series. I was very content to watch and retrieve the occasional order from the bar.
As I watched I discovered something. Despite my first impression, these women were not all lesbians. One of them was, in fact, married, and they all made various comments about the men in their lives as they bowled. However, Vicky and Ginny did seem to have a thing for each other.
Shortly after nine they each bowled their final frame, packed up their balls and shoes and got ready to leave. As intense as they seemed when I arrived, they were surprisingly relaxed as they readied to leave, even though they had lost by a mere six pins. I have to assume that had something to do with the amount of alcohol they consumed, but I really could not be sure.
When they had finally finished packing away their things, Janet and Debbie picked up their bags and bid farewell. (I had just picked their names up from off of their shirts.) I sat there waiting for what was to come as Vicky and Ginny approached.
Ginny was the opposite of Vicky. She was about six foot tall and big boned. In spite of her size, she also had a pretty face with blue eyes, full lips, and shoulder-length straight blond hair. As I looked closer, she reminded me of one of the pitchers on the US Olympic softball team. She was actually quite shy in public.
"Are you ready?" Vicky asked.
I looked at her a little puzzled.
"Are you ready to really start serving us?" she asked with more authority.
"Yes, mistress," I answered.
"Good. Take off your clothes, and put them in this bag," Vicky ordered, as she held an empty bowling bag out in front of me.
Hesitantly I stood and looked around the bowling alley. It was not near as packed as it had been earlier, but there were still close to twenty women standing around chatting in the dimly lit alley.
"Don't worry. You aren't going to get in any trouble. The owner and I are really good friends. Now lose the clothes," she barked.
Slowly I removed my sweater, pants, and shoes and stood before them in just my white chastity shorts. I felt more naked than I ever had in my entire life as I placed my clothes in the open bag.
Vicky reached out and tugged on the waist of my shorts and then tugged on the cage encasing my cock and balls. A snicker escaped both her and Ginny's lips as the observed my bondage.
In a matter of seconds I went from being inspected by two to being surrounded by a dozen. I stood there helplessly as woman after woman pulled and yanked on the device while others smacked my ass and taunted me. I was humiliated.
Finally Vicky instructed me to pick up the bag that held my clothes as well as the two bags they brought their balls and shoes in. Then she and Ginny led me to the parking lot where her truck was parked. I was freezing as my nearly-nude body hit the cold air and my feet padded quickly across the pavement.
Ginny opened the door to the truck and gestured for me to sit in the middle between the two of them. I placed the bags behind the seat and climbed in and the two women climbed in next to me on each side.
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