Explicit version containing masturbation, orgasm, asphyxiation themes at 06-80X The Splaying of Chastity] at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman
PREVIOUSLY: Penny’s and Chas’s wrists are restrained. They have been completely deprived of vision, hearing, smell, and taste, before being spun until losing their balance and sense of direction and falling onto the hard stone platform. NOW:
Chastity lay on the stone, breath quick, heart beating rapidly, every fiber of her being focused on her periphery. Like a bullseye lantern sweeping across a dark room, she scanned her own skin, from cute blonde locks to painted little toes, waiting for first contact: anywhere, anything, stimulation, a signal that it was starting, and the first hint of what it might be.
She could not see. She could not hear. She could not smell. And for good measure, she could not even taste. They had taken everything external away from her except the warm stone beneath her and the hot, moist, still air around her; the air that pelted every inch of exposed skin with specks of sand every moment without the air itself joining. That was her entire world.
There was fear; but her elevated pulse wasn’t entirely about fear. She remained buoyed by the boundless, youthful expectation that what was coming would be better than before.
She had fallen on her back, shoulders and head raised on her elbows, legs spread wide, and she hadn’t bothered to think about her modesty.
When the first touch came, it was a soft kick to her side. When that produced no response, it was followed by a harder and more insistent kick, immediately repeated, prompting Chas to struggle to roll herself over onto her front. Next was a kick to the bottom of her shoe, repeated again until she moved it, bending her knee and then in response to a blow to the other sole, moving her other knee. The kicks were repeated until she lay on her knees and her shoulders, one cheek pressed against the stone, like a frog with its arms tied behind its back.
Someone lifted the back of Chas’s gown, pulling it up like a curtain until the entire dress, causing Chas a quick shiver. She next felt the boots that had been kicking her sliding up the outsides of her calves, before being withdrawn. A moment later they returned, this time between her legs, nudging her insistently to force her legs apart, the woman’s—she assumed it was one of the women—standing behind her, legs pressed against her hips.
The woman did something with Chas’s chemise, the light linen smock under her dress—Chas couldn’t quite tell what, because it was such a light garment and only one among the many she wore.
The next thing she felt were fingers, insistent fingers, tugging fabrics around her sacrum and yanking them down around her knees. Chas groaned, startled again by how much weaker and deeper her own voice sounded when every noise outside her body was taken from her absolutely. She felt fabric being stuffed between her panty strings and her hips, before being used to tug her panties down.
Then the hands were gone, abandoning her back to her isolation, causing Chas to croak out a useless, drawn-out sound of protest. How long would she be left here this time? An hour? Or only—
—a moment. She was kicked in the side again and obediently rolled back over onto her back, like a dog being trained in the kennels.
Lying flat on her back hurt her arms and with a nervous swallow, she worked her elbows up towards her shoulders with difficulty, raising her shoulders again.
Hands finished removing her unnecessaries.
The she felt boots between her legs again, pressing.
Chastity grinned, her skin tingling with anticipation…
Nothing.
Nothing happened. Her smile faltered, and blurred into confusion and disappointment.
They’d left her! For the first time she thought of Penny, her friend—and felt a stab of jealousy. Were they turning their attention to her now?
Don’t ignore me! Her mind hollered uselessly, so thoroughly separated from the world around her it could only express its longing with a rather desperate-sounding and ambivalent grunt of protest.
Finally it came, a testing of how easily he moved from side to side, to confirm what the carelessly-named Chastity already knew. She felt her lips tightening again, in another pleased, only-slightly-guilty smile.
The hand withdrew and Chas moaned in disappointment. Then gasped when two hands returned, tentative hands, not assured ones like the first. These made no contact whatsoever with her skin; they were hyper-careful. Chas felt no warm palm resting on her leg, no stray fingertips brushing the pulpy flesh at her base; only its housing being shifted, first to one side tentatively, then a second time, decisively, straight downwards, making her moan breathily. Chas gasped as she dared to hope she knew what it portended…
Small movements around the place where the parts of her Svadhisthana device met. Yesssss! Chas sighed raggedly with relief and breathed even faster, panting, rolling her hips in silent entreaty for more attention, waiting to feel more aggressive hands…
Where were they? She moued, only half-hearing the sound herself, the part inside her head, nothing after it left her body. She brought her knees together and up to her chest, frantically moving them, breathing harder, unsure if she could even press hard enough. Any second, she expected hands to stop her movement, prevent her from continuing; and when they didn’t come, she began hoping she could make it—
—she finished! She just barely managed to, enough for relief but not satisfaction. She longed for the velvet glove of a woman holding him the way he was meant to be.
She could hardly remember the last time she had been left in such a place of gratitude and dissatisfaction. Even as she felt the comfort of the afterglow, if she could have cried out properly, she would have remonstrated with fate and demanded a do-over! She wanted more…
Literature Section “06-80[X] The Splaying of Chastity”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 80 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 948 words::Explicit 1199 words—Accompanying Images: 1681-1684—Published 2025-05-02—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.