As you awake, you find yourself feeling surprisingly refreshed and relaxed. You can tell it must be morning by the brightness against your closed eyelids. You feel and smell the fresh bed linen below you as you will your eyes open, thinking maybe all that has happened to you these last hours was all a dream.
As your eyes blink open and adjust to the sunlight streaming in the windows, you find yourself looking at . . yourself. Or, at least, a mirror image of yourself. There are mirrored tiles on the ceiling above the twin bed you lie in, and they reveal you in a little nightie, fresh-scrubbed and clear of graffiti.
"I have to admit, cheerslut, you clean up quite well!" comes a familiar voice from just out of your range of vision.
No, it wasn't all a bad dream. The nightmare continues. The voice is Wendy's. You would recognize it in your sleep, she has put you through so much the past day.
You are surprised to hear some almost complimentary words from her, though. You must admit, you do look good, as you examine yourself in your reflection. Your voluptuous body is shown to best effect in a spaghetti-strapped plum baby doll, the gauzy fall of material translucent 'til it ends just above your little matching string bikini panties. Gold embroidered threads are woven across the bra cups and panty crotch, sparkling in the sunlight that hits you as you lay in what has to be Wendy's sorority house bedroom. Your hair looks freshly washed and is done in twin ponytails, each knotted with purple and gold ribbon. The irony of wearing your school colors is not lost on you. Of course, your dog collar still betrays your servitude.
Wendy sees you play with the gauzy hem of your nightie, as well as the end of one of your ponytails.
"You can thank my squad for your makeover later, princess!" she taunts, pulling your hands away from yourself as she steps beside you. "It's my turn for pampering now!" She pulls your hands, forcing you to sit up and get out of bed.
You are a little stunned to see your nemesis standing nude before you. Despite all that she's done to you, you can't help but appreciate, and envy, the bronzed, sculpted beauty of the young woman before you. You know it takes a lot of discipline and sacrifice to look that lean and chiselled. It's not often that you see a person that looks as good out of their clothes as they do in them, but she is one of the select few.
She releases your hands and lets you stand there as she grabs a rubbery-looking mat and covers her bed linen with it. You enjoy the view of her high, firm buns as she stretches to roll out the covering. Then, she crawls on the bed and lays in the middle of the protective mat.
She turns to you, her facial features unadorned by makeup, but still beautiful.
"Okay now, sweetness. You are to give me a full body massage. As always, the better your performance is, the easier things may go for you later!" she reminds you, as she lays her head on the pillow below the mat and watches you.
A little dumbfounded, you look around. On her nightstand, you see a vial of oil over a candleglobe. You pick up the vial carefully, and bring the hot oil over to your keeper.
Holding it over the small of Wendy's back, you pour some of the contents of the vial into the palm of your hand to make sure it's not so hot it would burn her. Finding it tolerable, you dribble it down the recess of her spine and begin to massage it into the soft tan skin of her smooth back. You feel the tension disappear from Wendy's shoulders as you work her neck and clavicles.
"Oh, that's the way, baby!" the Cannondale cheer captain coos. "You sure you don't moonlight in a massage parlor?" she adds as a back-handed compliment.
Glad to be keeping your captor satisfied, you pour a thin trail of oil down each gorgeous leg. You start at Wendy's calves, kneading the tight meat, and work your way up the solid, tapering, columns of her thighs. You find yourself presented with that magnificent ass of hers. You decide to go for it. You know she'll be happy to tell you if you're doing something she doesn't like.
All you hear is a purr of contentment as each of your hands kneads one of the tight doughy balls of her assflesh.
"Now for the front!" Wendy says, suddenly turning onto her back. Your hands are inches away from her close-cropped cuntmound.
Once again, you are faced with a dilemma. Do you--
--Continue with your massage, ignoring what's in front of you?
--Start with her other erogenous zone, those perfect titties?
--Finger Wendy to orgasm?
--Take the opportunity to run?
Time remaining: 51 hrs. 30 mins. |