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Subject: A "Farrell" Story (Late for Dinner) Chapters 23 & 24 (Family S&M and first date fun!!!)
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New chapers posted regularly in alt.torture and alt.sadistic

WARNING!  This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains
Strong Sexual Content and Lame Attempts at Humor.
It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does
not in any way condone or encourage similar behavior even if it was safe
or conformed to the laws of physics. If you are under or over the age of
18 or reside in a state (or state of mind) that prohibits such 
behavior, stop reading this stuff immediately or you will never be
elected Speaker of the House!!!
Remember: DON’T DO THIS AT HOME!!!!!                      
copyright 1998 by M Quayle (a pseudonym)
All rights reserved. Do not repost or post without permission of author.

Late for Dinner
Chapter 23: Specialty of the House

“Well,” Principal Krok helped the debutantes from the trunk, “don’t you
girls look special this evening.   If you weren’t already spoken for,
I’d have you both myself.”

Kathy blinked her eyes, after the long ride in the dark trunk the
flickering torches that lined the Hood & Noose’s driveway were
positively blinding.

“Where exactly is this place?” she asked as she took Christi’s hand and
tentatively started up the stone steps to the entrance.

“That’s a closely guarded secret, Kathy,” the principal motioned the
debutantes through the massive iron doors, “that’s why you had to ride
in the trunk. I hope it didn’t inconvenience you too much.”

“Oh, no! That’s the nicest trunk ever,” Christi gushed, “and I’ve been
in a few.”

“Me, too,” Kathy chimed, “it was swell!”

A young woman with a thick rope noose tied around her neck greeted them
in the lobby.  She was wearing the ragged remains of an antique white
dressing gown, her face and all visible skin was covered in ghastly blue
makeup that gave her a freshly-dead look.  In spite of her morgue-like
appearance, the red-head smiled brightly and asked if they’d like the
smoking or non-smoking section.

“Oh, I’m just delivering these young ladies,” Principal Krok motioned to
two distinguished-looking men sitting at the rear of the large dark-wood
dining room.  

“One last thing,” he turned to the excited girls, “do you have signed
parental permission slips?”

“Yes, Principal Krok,” Kathy and Christi said almost in unison as they
handed him the slips.

“Great,” the principal put the slips in his jacket pocket, “now, girls,
just follow the hostess, do what you’re told, and have a good time.”

“We will, Principal Krok,” Kathy kissed him primly on the cheek.  “I
don’t know how I can ever thank you.”

“You’ll find a way, Kathy,” the principal smiled and tweaked the pearl
stick pin that pierced her left breast, “you’ll find a way.”

 Kathy tried to act worldly and unimpressed as she followed the hostess
into the dining room, but she was drinking in every detail.  Like the
lobby, the dark stone room was dimly lit by torches mounted to the walls
and center posts, but she could see people dining at small tables
covered with white tablecloths.  At first she thought several men were
eating  alone until she saw women’s high heels and, once in a while,
pairs of black men’s wing tips peaking from under the long tablecloths

They also passed a women who was bent over a table with her red-sequined
gown raised to her waist.  She was being served a large flesh appetizer
from the pants of a black-hooded waiter.  The smiling woman was
face-to-face with her dinner companion and Kathy heard him say “would
you like another when this one’s done, Darling, after all it is our

“Yes, please,” the woman replied blissfully as they passed out of
hearing range.  

“Let’s ask Michael if we can have our wedding reception here,” Kathy
whispered to Christi.

“That is if he marries both of us,” Christi sighted. “I may just be here
as your slave.”

“He’ll marries us both,” Kathy soothed. “Remember, it’s double or

The state Secretary of Education and Supervisor of Masochistic
Instruction stood as the hostess ushered the girls to the table.

“Well, well,” the secretary exclaimed. “Principal Krok said he’d send us
two lovely companions and he most certainly has.”  

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Kathy beamed as the secretary held her chair.  He
was a tall, fit man in his mid-40s with salt-and-pepper hair and
flint-blue eyes.  Judging by the flavors flowing between her warming
thighs, she knew she would, indeed, have to find a very special ‘thank
you’ to Principal Krok.

“And this must be our little Submissive Miss,” the supervisor exclaimed.

Christi dropped quickly to her knees and bowed meekly before the
muscular black-hared man.  “It will be an honor to be used by you, Sir,”
she trembled in her tiny mouse voice.  “Would you like me to crawl under
the table now?”

“Very good, young lady,” the supervisor helped her to her feet. 
“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,  but now, we’d like you to
join us for dinner and maybe do a little dancing after.”

Dancing! No one said anything about dancing!  “Excuse me Sir,” Kathy
interjected, “I’ve never danced with anyone before. We’ve both taken
table dancing at school, but that different. I don’t --”

“That’s okay, Kathy,” the supervisor answered mysteriously, “I’m sure
you’ll catch on in no time.”

A hooded steward appeared with a tray. “Plugs?” he asked politely.

“None for me, thanks,” Kathy eyed the assortment of menacing rubber,
wood, and metal objects and the bowl of thick lubricant on the silver

“Yes, please,” Christi pointed to a thick U-shaped double silver rod. 
She rose from her chair and surprised Kathy when she opened a concealed
vertical slit in the seat of her gown then bent and spread her cheeks. 
“Would you do the honors,” she demurely asked the supervisor.

“I’d be delighted,” the muscular man dipped the tips in the lubricant
and began to work the twin prongs Christi’s narrow lower openings.

Christi smiled through her tears as she sat back down, “thanks, that’s
just the thing,” she said breathlessly.

“Should I bind the ladies?” The steward inquired.

“Oh, I think Kathy’s fine the way she is,” the superintendent smiled,
but I know my colleague prefers a lady in restraints.”  The steward
complied and soon had the blue-eyed brunette secured to her chair with
soft white rope, leaving only her right arm free for dining.

“Don’t worry, Miss, everything we serve is bite-sized,” the steward
assured as he tied the final knot linking her left ankle to the chair

“Since this is your first time here,” the superintendent continued, “we
took the liberty of ordering for you.  I hope you don’t mind.” He
motioned a second hooded man to the table.

“I hope you find our chef’s salad to your liking,” the waiter placed
immense bowls of crisp greens in front of the wide-eyed girls.  “And may
I recommend our house dressing. We make it fresh at the table.”

“Why, yes, of course.  My Mommy, I mean ‘my mother’,” Kathy blushed,
“says its wonderful.”

“Very good,” the waiter called four young boys forward.  They were nude
from the waist down with hands tied behind their backs.  “These fellows
have been waiting all week to serve you,” he untied the first pair. 
They pumped their swollen members eagerly and both soon gasped in relief
and ecstasy as the aromatic dressing flowed over the bowls.

“A little lemon for zest and some white pepper,” the waiter added the
missing ingredients, “ and you have our specialty of the house.  Enjoy.” 

The two remaining boys were then allowed to fill the girls’ goblets with
the heavenly fluid.  The waiter then retied the boys’ hands and shooed
them back to the kitchen.

“Drink up, girls,” the superintendent encouraged, “there’s plenty more
where that came from.” He offered a toast and the four clinked glasses. 

Kathy let the reassuring warm fluid flow across her tongue and dreamed
of sharing a wedding toast with beloved Christi and darling Michael at
that very table.

Late for Dinner
Chapter 24: A New Record

The dinner plates were cleared away. The men sipped their wine, puffed
cigars, and listened to the pianist who was serenading the dining room. 
Christi was deeply entranced in what Kathy called her “torture mouse”
space: the normally vibrant brunette was absolutely still with eyes
lowered as if in a secret dream, her unbound hand outstretched to catch
ashes from the supervisor’s cigar.  

Kathy was a different story. Although above the table she seemed totally
at ease as she sipped her soda, underneath her stockinged foot had
reached the secretary’s crotch and was now encouraging growth within his
pinstriped pants.

The supervisor flicked an ash into Christi’s upturned palm, put down his
empty glass and broken the silence.  “I think it’s time we had our
dance.”  He called the steward to untie Christi, who seemed to come back
to earth when her bonds were released.

“Wow, I must have really been out there,” Christi apologized.  “Did
someone say something about dancing?”

“Yup, it’s time for you two to kick up your heels,” the supervisor
helped Christi to her feet.  She was wobbly from being restrained for so
long and almost toppled when he bent her across the table and -- pop --
removed her twin plugs.

“Let’s join ‘em, Kathy,” the secretary slipped free of her nylon toes,
rose and held her chair.  “It’s dance time.”

“Do you mind if I ‘powder my nose’ first?” Kathy asked demurely.  All
those fluids at dinner had left her needing fast relief.

“Me, too,” Christi added.

“Now, now, you can freshen up later,” the supervisor took the two
startled girls by their arms and whisked them quickly into a back room. 
“After all, you’re got to have some way to tell us you’re ready to

“Huh?” Kathy blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dark space.

The tile-floored room wasn’t a dance club.  Kathy gulped when she saw
two nooses dangling from the rafters.

“Welcome to the Black Heart of the Noose,” a hooded attendant said as he
quickly bound Kathy’s hands behind her back and slipped a rope around
her neck. Another attendant secured Christi and helped her onto a wobbly
wooden box.

“Now here’s the plan,” the supervisor smiled as he unzipped his pants
and sat down for the show.  “Principal Krok says you girls are a couple
of gaspers so this shouldn’t be a big deal,” he paused, “except we’re
going to keep you up for ten minutes if you can keep kicking that long.”

“But, but, we never go more than three minutes,” Kathy pleaded from atop
her perch.  “What if we don’t make it?”

“Just pee and we’ll cut you right down,” the supervisor laughed. “We
sure don’t want you to end up like these ladies,” he motioned to two
“dead girl” hostesses who dropped to their knees and buried their heads
in the men’s laps. 

“Pardon me, Miss,” the hooded attendant addressed Kathy, “but the state
health code requires you to wear a butt plug while you hang.  I hope you
don’t mind.”

“Do I have to?” Kathy asked politely. “I really hate those things.”

“I’m afraid it’s the law,” he wrapped his arm around her waist as he
worked the lubricated plug slowly but firmly into her constricted
bottom.  Kathy struggled so hard that she almost flew off into space.

She turned her head to watch Christi, who looked positively beatific as
the attendant pulled the rope tight, and raised her onto tiptoes atop
the flimsy pine box.  

“Okay, girls, let’s dance,” the attendants kicked the boxes.  Kathy felt
her weight shift to her neck as the rope pressed against her windpipe. 
She fought against the agony spreading down her spine as she dangled
just inches above the floor.

As the airless white of nonexistence began to fog her mind Kathy felt
the attendant massage her nether mound.  The devastating pain and panic
quickly evolved into cataclysmic organism.  When the tidal wave finally
subsided, she surrendered to the inevitable and watched a yellow puddle
grow silently beneath her feet.

“That’s one, cut her down,” someone shouted as Kathy dropped to the
floor.  She lay motionless until her breath returned, then opened her
eyes to see Christi’s shoeless feet just inches above her face. 
Suddenly, a wet stream flowed as if in slow motion toward her, then she
bore the weight of her beloved when the rope was released.

Kathy worked her way out from under the barely breathing girl.  Soaked
from head to toe and still reeling from her brush with Armageddon, she
bent forward to let the attendant untie her hands then cradled Christi
in her arms and brushed the curly hair away from her face and still
silent mouth.  

Christi coughed violently, opened her eyes and whispered hoarsely “did I
make it?”  

“You sure did,” the supervisor cheered, “ten whole minutes! You set a
new record.”

“That was amazing,” Christi smiled sleepily.  “Can we do it again?”

“Not until our wedding night, then we’ll all swing together.” Kathy
kissed Christi softly and held her close, “but we’ll ‘powder our noses’
first, okay?”

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