The pants were tight and the camel toes surrounded us. Some of the girls were perfect. Their asses were perfect. Their tits were perfect. Their comple...ion was perfect. Their tight little snatches were perfect. I was intoxicated. One sniff, or slight touch and I was jerking off the first chance I got. Girls liked me, but not a lot of close dates at that time. My problem was being too shy and nervous.I had another problem. Some of the boys were perfect too. My sex experience was limited to gay. She had a firm grip, and I soon needed to cum. "Mistress." I said between groans, "May I please cum?" she thought for a moment, "No." se said and kept pumping my cock. I bit my lip and and enjoyed the bliss. Then she stopped. She stood up on the bed and took off all her clothes and threw them in a pile. I looked up at her firm body, at her luscious breasts. Then my eyes traveled down to her perfect pussy. "Do you like it?" she asked, "Yes Mistress." I responded, still looking straight at her. Biting my lip as the needle goes again and againinto the sensitive skin, I blink away tears while he worked, then criedout as it hurt too much. Helpless on the table, I felt my chin lifted up,then a thick ballgag was forced into my mouth and buckled in place,keeping me silent as he continued on the tattoo. My muffled cries musthave got to my owner as he slowly caressed along my blonde hair andtalked softly to me. I lost track of time, it could have been over 2hours before the tattooist stopped. Then we all work to raise the cross. Now she hangs,some of her weight on her arms, most on her feet whichshe must stretch to reach the supports. She is alreadycrying. We fix the cross into its base. We leave and goout into the living room, leaving her door open.The conversation is desultory. We listen to her moansin the background. When they stop, we look at eachother. It’s not time to take her down, but we go in.Something has gone horribly wrong. She is hanging at anodd angle, apparently.