‘But we’ve got to do it properly,’ Daniel said.  ‘This is a scientific experiment, after all.  You’ve got to sign consent forms first…’

They had the forms and pens ready on a clipboard that had been sitting on the table behind the laptop.  Ian took it up and handed the forms out.  Connie read her copy in numbed horror.

I the undersigned do hereby give my prior consent to all procedures deemed necessary for research into the physical and psychological effects of prolonged periods of pain, sexual humiliation/degradation and abuse on the mature human female, as long as they do not result in serious injury or permanent harm.  These may include but not be limited to: compulsory nudity, hard labour, multiple device bondage, close confinement, corporal punishment, isolation, gagging, electrical stimulation, same sex encounters, enforced masturbation, vaginal, oral and anal sexual intercourse with simultaneous or multiple partners and the insertion of artificial stimulating devices, whether natural, electrical or mechanical into all suitable orifices.  

It was a licence to do virtually anything they wanted to her, however perverted.  And she had no choice but to agree.         

‘This… experiment… how long will it last?’ Angela asked. 

‘As long as we want it to, Mrs Bradley,’ Garry said simply.

Heather whimpered.

‘At least we’ve given you a choice, Mrs Sullivan!’ Daniel said harshly.  ‘Your stinking sons gave us none!’   

Biting her lip Connie signed.  Heather and Angela did the same.  Beaming broadly Ian gathered them in and attached them to the clipboard.

Daniel explained: ‘Tomorrow we’ll visit you individually at home to run more experiments and set up your computers so we can contact you securely online, so cancel any plans you have for the day.  We’ll alert you when you’ll be required to come here for experimentation, either singly, in pairs or as a group.  Any previous appointments or plans you’ve made which clash with those times must be rearranged or cancelled.   From now on we come first.  Remember this: you cooperate or else the recording goes to the police and all your boys take the consequences.  If any one of you refuses to do anything we want the same thing happens, understood?’

They nodded miserably.         

‘W… when do we start?’ Heather asked.

‘The first experiment’s already begun, Mrs Sullivan, and it’s called: knowing your place.  From now on you will call us “Sir” when you speak to us.  Do you understand?’

‘Yes… Sir.’

‘All of you.’

‘Yes, Sir!’ they all replied.

What must they look like, Connie thought miserably?  Three grown women calling boys half their age “Sir”.  It was sick and perverse and yet probably least of the indignities she was going to have to endure to keep Alex out of prison.

‘Your boys called us “Lab Rats”‘ Daniel said.  ‘Well now the Lab Rats are in charge and we’re going to run some experiments on their mothers.  But they’ll never know, because you won’t be telling them, will you?’

Biting their lips they shook their heads.

‘We can’t hear you.’

‘No, Sir!’ they said in chorus.

‘But you’ll make sure they suffer somehow and learn right from wrong so they’ll never do anything as stupid and evil again, won’t you?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ they said.  And they meant it with all their hearts.

‘Now we want to do things properly… scientifically.  We need to get some more details about our experimental animals for the records.  On your feet and get over there… quickly!’

Fearfully they stumbled across the shed floor to where a section of wall had been painted white and marked with a height scale.  The floor in front of it had been covered by an old rug with yellow repair tape sticking its edges down and a cross of tape on its centre.   By the corners of the rug a pair of fluorescent lighting tubes had been set up on end, connected by cables to a floor switch.  Set up before it was a camera on a tripod.  Gary took charge of the camera while Ian switched on the fluorescents which bathed the rug and wall behind it with a cool even illumination.  Then he held his clipboard and pen ready to take notes.  

Daniel saw the women gazing at the camera in dismay and grinned.  ‘Get used to it.   All experiments will be videoed.  After all, your boys filmed us.   This way all your suffering and humiliation will be properly archived.   It’ll give us something to enjoy in our old age.’ He pointed at Connie.  ‘You first, Mrs Greene.  Stand on the spot.’ 

With her stomach knotting and churning, Connie stepped onto the yellow cross on the rug and faced the camera. 

‘For the records state your full name, age, vital statistics and marital status,’ Daniel said.

Connie licked her dry lips.  ‘I… my name’s Connie Greene.  I’m thirty-eight years old… I measure 34-22-33… and I’m divorced.’

As she spoke Ian was noting down what she said on his clipboard.

‘And what are you, Mrs Greene?’ Daniel asked.

‘Sorry Sir?’

‘What are you right now?’

Then she understood.   ‘Uh… I’m an experimental subject, Sir… a human guinea pig.’ 

‘Then why are you wearing clothes?  Guinea pigs don’t wear clothes.  Strip, Mrs Greene.  Take everything off…’

For a moment Connie thought she would faint at the words.  But then what else did she expect?  With trembling hands she pulled off her jacket and began to unbutton her blouse.  Piece by piece she shed her clothes.  She had a good body, kept trim and attractive with a sensible diet, the best salon styling and facials and regular exercise.  But she had never in her worst nightmares imagined it being exposed like this: before the three boys and their camera recording her unwilling striptease, feeling their adolescent eyes burning into her flesh as it was exposed, seeing the grins of wonder and delight spreading on their faces, while wracked by shame and sick disbelief.

When she stood totally naked and trembling before them her hands automatically slid across her breasts and pubes, but Daniel said: ‘Arms raised and fingers clasped together behind your neck, Mrs Greene.  We want to see what we’re working with...’

Miserably Connie obeyed.   

She was slender and pale skinned, with short dark brown hair close trimmed about her neck and unparted and tumbled on her crown.  She had dark intelligent eyes and a strong straight nose with full bowed lips.  Her breasts were neatly rounded and in proportion to her build.  They were capped by small brown nipples that to her horror were standing up stiffly.  At the apex of her slender thighs was a neat trimmed “V” of dark pubic hair.

‘Turn right!’

She turned so they could record her left profile.  Another turn and they could see her smooth back and tight bottom.  By then she was biting her lip and fighting back tears.  As she did so she thought she heard a groan from Heather and Angela.  On the next command she showed her right profile and then faced front once again.  

It was only then that she saw that, while she had her back turned, the boys had unbuttoned the fronts of their lab coats and let them hang open.  They wore nothing underneath and three hard young cocks were standing to attention in response to her bare body.  They might not appear to be the strongest or fittest of young men, but there was nothing weak or undersized about their penises. 

As she gazed at the row of erections in sick horror Daniel said: ‘You’d better get used to them, Mrs Greene.  They’re the probes and dipsticks we’re going to be using on you and your friends to test how you well respond to our experiments.   You’ll make sure you give them plenty of interesting data, won’t you?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ she choked out.

‘Now stand over there in a box with your back to the wall…’ Daniel pointed to a spot next to the rectangle of white-painted wall where three small yellow tape boxes had been marked on the floor in a row.  ‘Keep your arms up.’  Dizzy with relief Connie obeyed. 

‘Mrs Sullivan,’ Daniel called out.  ‘Your turn…’

Heather was shaking so much she could hardly speak clearly.  Her eyes kept shying away from the stiff cocks that now pointed at her and then sliding back to them.  ‘My… my name is Heather Sullivan… age thirty seven… divorced… I measure 37-24-37… and I’m an experimental lab animal...’

Without being told she raised her dress and pulled it off over her head.  The boys grinned with delight and their cocks bobbed higher as she exposed herself unwillingly before them.  In a minute she was also naked with her hands clasped behind her neck.   She had creamy golden tanned skin and shoulder length streaked blonde hair with a fringe.  Her eyes were clear blue/grey under bold brows, her nose was neat, her mouth was wide and filled with perfect white teeth.  Her breasts were still proud, smooth and heavy, with large pink aureoles.  They made her waist seem smaller by comparison.  A thin fuzz of dark blonde hair fringed her cleft.  Her bottom was smooth with a distinct bikini shadow.  After they had recorded her from every angle she stumbled off the rug to stand in the square beside Connie.   

‘My name is Angela Bradley,’ Angela said with as much dignity as she could muster once she stood before the camera.  ‘I’m thirty eight, single, and I measure 36-23-36… and I’m a human guinea pig…’

She was pale skinned with a lush mane of shoulder length black hair, cool brown eyes with arched brows, a tight shapely mouth and slightly haughty flared nostrils.  Her striptease revealed her full breasts and pink/brown nipples with hatpeg crowns.  Her hips were womanly and her pouting Mound of Venus, capped by thick dark curls, was deeply slotted.  Her buttock cheeks were pale, smooth and fleshy. 

All of which, judging by the pulsing of their straining shafts and the gleam in the boy’s eyes, met with their approval.      

When they were done with her, Angela joined Connie and Heather by the wall.  For a minute the white-coated boys seemed to ignore them, checking their notes and the camera in apparent earnest while they stood naked and trembling against the wall.  They dare not even lower their arms.   It must have made the boys feel powerful to make them wait, Connie thought.  So had exposing themselves in front of them. Was it really part of a serious experiment or simply malicious pleasure?  Maybe both of course.

Then the boys began pulling out a device from the assorted objects stacked about the walls and assembling it in front of the women.  It was a timber tripod standing well over head high at its apex and with nylon cords linking its lower ends to stop them spreading too far.  It also had red polypropylene-webbing strung in crosses between its struts.  Short lengths of broad webbing had been bolted to the upper and lower ends of the frame with squares of hook and loop fastening glued to them.  Just above them three doorbell pushes were screwed to the struts and wired to a small box on top of the tripod.  There were also several lengths of bungee cords hanging from rings bolted to the inside of the frame.

When the tripod was erected Daniel snapped his fingers at Connie, Angela and Heather.   ‘Here!  Lie face down across the webbing.  Spread your legs and hold your arms up high…’

Shivering they obeyed, resting their fronts on the webbing between the struts so that their breasts and faces protruded through it into the pyramidal space within.  They looked into each other’s frightened eyes as they spread their legs and raised their arms.  The boys bound the broad webbing straps about their wrists and ankles, rendering them utterly helpless; suspended leaning forward at about thirty degrees from vertical with their bare bottoms facing outwards. 

By reflex they tugged at their bonds but they would not give, nor could they slide their hands out of their cuffs, which held them just over the doorbell pushes.  The boys reached round their bodies and took up some of the cords hanging from the upper ends of the struts which they strung across in front on the women’s faces and hooking them into place.  They were bungee cords with short lengths of foam water pipe lagging slotted and taped over them.  These they pushed in to their mouths, forming soft bit gags which their tied in place with thinner cords that went about the backs of their necks.  They looked at each other in mute horror.  Now the power of speech had been denied them.

The other elastic cords had crocodile clips tied to their ends.  Connie could not make out what they were for until she felt hands reaching round from behind her and squeezing her breasts and teasing out her nipples, which were still treacherously hard, followed by the sudden bite of small sprung metal teeth into her flesh nubs.  They were all moaning and whimpering as the boys clipped their nipples, stretching the elastic cords between them until their nipples were linked in a loop, the cords running up through their supporting rings and then down to the nipples on either side of them, the tension drawing their breasts outwards and upwards.   As they jerked and twisted in their bonds they tugged painfully on each other’s nipples, making them jiggle.  They were punishing each other.

‘It’ll hurt less if you don’t struggle,’ Daniel said.

He was right.  Gradually they made themselves lay still, suffering the sharp pricking pinch of the clips as best they could.

‘Now we’re going to feel you up properly.  We’ve been waiting a long time to do this.  I wonder what your boys would think if they could see us now playing with their mothers’ tits and bums and pussies?’

The women burned with fresh humiliation as the boys examined their helpless bodies at their leisure.  They moved round the tripod handling the specimens of warm perfumed female flesh strung across it, stroking their bobbing cocks as they did so.  They cupped tethered breasts and pinched shivering bottoms.  They reached between soft inner thighs and felt the humid cleft pouches of their pubes.  Fingers slid between their labial lips and teased clitorises and probed the mouths of their vaginas.  And the helpless women had no choice but to hold still and allow them to satisfy their curiosity, even as they saw the effect they were having on their straining erections.  They looked across at each other’s flushed faces and saw tears of shame sparkling in their eyes.

Connie shuddered and bit on her gag as she was fingered by each boy in turn, accompanied by his observations on her body and exclamations of delight.  She could not help it that her pussy lips were becoming wet and slippery and she felt sick at herself, until she saw Heather and Angela’s bigger boobs were receiving more handling than hers.   For a crazy moment she worried that she would be penalize in some way for not being as well endowed as they were and somehow Alex would be exposed.  Then she told herself that they were all in this together and they were all equally hot in their own ways.  Crude as it was, what Gary had said was true.  They had all taken care of their bodies and they were still very desirable.  If they hadn’t been would the boys have accepted hush money instead of sexual submission?  Were good looks a blessing or a curse?  Either way they were going to pay the price.

Finally the boys stepped back from the ring of trembling naked women, grinning to each other foolishly and showing off their sticky fingers.  Their faces were flushed with excitement and their cocks and tight ball sacks looked ready to burst.

‘They’re perfect!’ Ian declared.  ‘I never knew tits could feel so hot and heavy.’ 

‘What about their pussies?’ Gary said. ‘The more you play with them the slipperier they get.  It’s like they want to be screwed.’

‘Vaginal lubrication’s an autonomous response,’ Ian said.  ‘Remember your biology.’

‘They know what’s going to happen to them,’ Daniel said.  ‘At least this way they’re having time to get ready.  It’s more than their sons gave us.’ 

Connie groaned in shame.

‘I can’t wait,’ Ian said, clutching his cock.  ‘I want to screw them all right now!’

‘No, we do it like we planned,’ Daniel said.  ‘Bring the camera over and get them ready…’

With their gags linked to the frame sides, holding their heads facing inwards, the woman only got glimpses of what they were doing and swivelled their eyes round frantically to see what fresh humiliation was going to be heaped upon them.

While Gary set up the camera facing the tripod, Ian brought over the end of a hose that was plugged into a tap in the corner of the shed.  It was fitted with a pistol grip spray gun head, to which a softer length of clear hose had been attached.  With it he carried a bucket and sponge, an old towel and a jar of petroleum jelly.   

He set the items down behind Connie, pried apart her buttock cheeks and tried to push the soft hose end into her anus.  She whimpered and clenched her sphincter in resistance.  Ian slapped her bottom until with a groan she relaxed and let it up inside her. It was hateful but also insidiously arousing.  No man had ever done this to her before.

As the cold water surged through her rectum, making her shudder as it flushed it out into the bucket, Daniel said to them all: ‘We want your bum holes clean and empty and greased because we want to get inside you up every hole you’ve got.  If you don’t like us doing it then you’d better keep them like that yourselves.  They’ll be getting a lot of that sort of use from now on.  And if we ever get our cocks dirty inside you, you’ll have to lick them clean!’

Heather snivelled once again.

When Ian had done her wiped her dry and then pushed a blob of petroleum jelly into her anus and worked it about, savouring the warm grip of her bottom mouth on his finger.  Connie shuddered at the feel of his finger inside her while Heather and Angela looked at her in horror.  When Ian was finished with her he moved round to tend to them.  Miserably they surrendered their rectums in turn to his intimate attentions. 

When they were all flushed out and greased the boys took up their positions.  Ian stood behind Connie, Gary behind Angela and Daniel behind Heather.  To their alarm they saw the boys were now holding what looked like lashes in their hands.

‘This experiment is going to test how much pain you have to suffer before you decide you’d rather be screwed than beaten any more,’ Daniel explained.  They held up the lashes so they could see them properly.  They had been made from sections cut from an old bicycle inner tube nailed to wooden handles.   ‘These’ll hurt but they shouldn’t cut the skin of your bottoms.  We don’t want to damage them too much.  After all they’ve got to stay fresh for weeks.  When you can’t take any more you press you own button and we’ll screw you.  Then we’ll go back to beating you until you ring the bell again.  Yes, you’re going to be screwed twice.  The first time it’ll be up your pussy, the second up your arse. We’re eighteen, remember, and we’ve got a lot of spunk stored up.  We can cum twice in ten minutes easily.  Now get ready for a thrashing!’