The long end had been made into a handle, with a rounded end and a raised lip for your fingers to press against while using it. The business end had been carved into a wide spiral that ended in a point. Obviously you operated it by sticking it into an orange half and twisting it to ream out the juice and pulp. It looked vaguely like a dildo, which was probably why Polly had thought of using it on me, but it was a dildo from Hell, with the two-inch wide reamer that wound into a point.
It struck me as just the thing you might use on someone, if you really didn't like them and you were a really sadistic sort of person. I would have thought twice before letting it anywhere my pussy. The idea that Polly planned to put it in my tiny little rosebud asshole made me gasp and my eyes go wide.
"Back in the sink, bitch! You've seen enough. You don't get to watch the rest. You just get to suffer while I see how much juice I can get out of you with this."
She rubbed it down my crack so I could feel the roughness of the wood. It must have seen decades of use, because it had cracks and fissures all over the surface that kept trying to catch my skin. She teased me with the point, bumping it over my little hole on each pass, making me jump. Then she put it between my legs, spinning it in her fingers so the wide part brushed against my pussy.
"I'm going to give you one concession," she said. "Just one. I'll give you a minute to get as much pussy-juice on this thing as you can before I shove it into your butt-hole. If you can't get it wet, it's going in dry, and that will hurt a lot."
I took her at her word. My pussy was already plenty wet from all the stimulation it had been getting. Having Polly threaten to skewer my asshole with the juicer made me hotter still and I was dripping with excitement.
Polly didn't help at all. She just held the thing still between my legs and I had to wave my pussy all around to try to smear the wooden tool with my lubrication. She laughed to see me contorting to try to transfer enough juice to make a difference.
Frustrated at my lack of success, I spread my legs as far apart as the space allowed and pushed back on the juicer, driving the point into my pussy and rolling my hips to try to work it far enough into me to get it really wet.
Now it was Polly's turn to gasp at the lengths I was prepared to go to follow her instructions. I'm sure it put some more ideas into her head for ways to make me suffer. She held on tightly while I fucked the tip of the wooden spiral, but she wouldn't push it any further into me to get it good and sloppy. By the time she took it away, only the end had gotten wet.
"Good girl," she said, a tone of pride creeping past the cruelty in her voice. She patted my ass again and then put the point of the juicer right on my puckered asshole. "Now let's see how well you did."
Polly pushed and the point pried my anus open. At first it went in easily, but as the point went deeper, the width of the tool started to force my tiny hole larger and larger, until all the slack had been forced out of it and I was stretched tight around the end of the tool.
"This is going to hurt worse than I thought," she said. "It's only about a third in, and you're running out of pussy-lube here. You better try and relax as much as you can, because I'm afraid this is were the going gets tough, bitch." She pushed in on the handle even harder than before, and she started to twist the juicer around in my ass, like I was an orange she was grinding the pulp out of.
The pain went from bad to intense very quickly. It had started as no worse than taking a hard crap, but in reverse. Now, I was holding onto the edge of the sink and trying not to scream from the pain of having my asshole reamed like a ripe fruit.
I took her advice and tried my best to relax my so my hole would be loose enough not to tear open as the rough wood was ground through it. It was almost impossible not to clench up and try to force the invading tool out of me.
She turned it slowly a half-turn and I felt like I was being ripped apart. The spiral shape kept it from slipping back out and acted like screw threads to help Polly drive the thing deeper into my agonized hole.
"Unnnnngghh!" I groaned as she turned the handle some more. The pain was making me see stars and my hard, swollen nipples were grinding into the bottom of the cold steel sink.
"You're doing really well," Polly praised me. "Just a couple more turns and I think you can plan on wearing diapers for the rest of your life, because this little hole will never be able to close up again!" Her voice was raspy and rough and sounded like she had been possessed. She twisted the juicer again and the stars in front of my eyes exploded into fireworks. The pain was indescribable and the intensity had reached the level where it wasn't a local sensation anymore. My whole ass felt like it was being torn apart.
"Hang on there," Polly said. "Just a little bit more and I think you will be big enough to be ass-fucked by an elephant. It's a good thing we have all these paper towels handy, because when I'm through with this hole you're going to need them to plug it up so you don't leak shit all over the floor." She twisted again viciously and I went over the edge from pain to ecstasy.
It was one of the best climaxes I'd ever had. The constant, intense pain radiated from my ass right through my pussy and my clit and set fire to every part of my body. The janitor's closet disappeared and I soared out into a bright world of delight. I wanted to let go and surrender to the feeling completely, but I hung onto consciousness by the frailest of threads, even though I could not remember why I would want to do such a thing. The scream that had been trying to escape from the back of my throat became a song. The awesome pain became incredible pleasure. Then Polly turned the handle once more and the wide part of the juicer slid through my terribly-stretched hole. My over-stressed sphincter snapped shut on the narrow part of the tool, leaving only the handle poking out.
Without the intensity of the pain from having my anus stretched to such an absurd diameter, my climax fell quickly from the soaring heights and I returned to Earth and the janitor's closet with a loud huff as all the air went out of my lungs.
I was still trying to get my breath back when my cell-phone rang. I yanked my head out of the sink to listen in horror at the incredibly bad timing of the call. The trilling of the chime seemed incongruous in the circumstance and it echoed in the small room twice before I recovered enough to bend down and grab the phone from my bag. A call during school hours could only be bad news.
Holding onto the sink with one hand, bent over with a big wooden juicer stuffed into my ass, I pulled myself together the best I could and flipped open the phone.
"Hello," I said. I hadn't bothered to look at the caller-ID, which would have given me a clue as to how professional I should have tried to sound. I figured that it didn't matter at the moment, since I knew if I stopped to think about the situation, I would never be able to stop laughing at myself.
"This is Sheriff Foster," the voice said in a very 'official' tone. That told me that this was official business and that he could probably be heard by others in the room. "I'd like to request some assistance. We need The Dragon." His voice sounded like he was trying hard to control it to keep the sound of worry out and I knew immediately that this was a serious problem. Asking for The Dragon was a tip-off that he needed me in full costume and makeup.
"Where and when?" I asked. The less I said, the shorter the conversation would be and the sooner I could deal with another pressing issue — getting the juicer out of my ass. It didn't even occur to me that I also needed to censor my end of the conversation for Polly's benefit.
"Highway 17, four miles south of the city limits. Just north of the Armory. And as soon as possible, please. Someone has stolen a tank."
"Right. On the way," I said, and flipped the phone off. "A tank?" I thought. "A tank of what?" Suddenly, the proximity to the National Guard Armory jarred my brains into gear. He hadn't said "a tank". He'd said, "a Tank". Armor, treads, clanking, diesel engine, big damn cannon on top. I stuffed the phone back in my bag before turning to Polly.
"Get this thing out of me. Right now!" My change of attitude and tone made Polly jump. She grabbed hold of the handle of the juicer and pulled.
"Harder!" I said, urgency dominating my voice. "Pull as hard as you can!"
Bless her, she put a knee into my butt and pulled with both hands. It was enough. The wooden tool hurt just as much coming out as it did going in, but I didn't have time to enjoy it. I just clamped my jaw shut and tried to help her push the damn thing out of my hole.
Slowly, gradually, I felt it come out. I relaxed as much as I could and was rewarded with a loud pop as it came free and my ass slammed shut behind it.
I quickly put both hands behind me to try to gage the extent of the damage. Fortunately, her predictions of the total destruction of my anus and the degree to which diapers would figure in my future were both exaggerations. Although it felt awful to have a big empty hole back there, I could feel it quickly closing up again. A quick trance and a short command and the only aftereffects would be an easier time on the toilet and a tendency to view certain objects with consideration for whether they would be fun to sit on.
When I was satisfied that my insides were likely to stay in place, I turned to Polly and grabbed her in a big hug and kissed her hard on the mouth.
She just had time to touch tongues with me and try to press herself closer when I broke away.
"Polly, that was great, but I have to run now. Something has come up... an emergency... I have to leave school. Please tell Miss Albert that I'm sorry to miss her Math class and ask her to give you the homework assignment. Please email it to me, OK?"
"Sure, Sam. And it was great for me, too. I hope we can do it again some time..."
"Count on it. But right now I have to run. You better wash that thing before you use it again. On a fruit or on me." We laughed and I hugged her again and dashed out the door, calling Neeka as I went.
We both got to the car at about the same time and flung our bags in the back seat. I thought for a second about trying to dress in the car, but decided to wait until we got to the house.
Neeka scratched out of the parking lot and raced home as quickly as traffic would allow. She pulled directly into the hidden driveway leading to the west wing of the house and drove all the way to the end, pulling up with her front grill threatening the ornamental fir trees at the end of the driveway. We piled out and after grabbing a bag from the trunk, she unlocked the double doors and we scrambled into the workshop that was now the Dragon's Lair, as she insisted on calling it.
We shucked out of our clothes and were trying to get into our crimefighting gear when she said, "A Tank? He said a Tank? A Fucking Tank? Jeez! What the heck does he think you're going to go about some lunatic in a Tank?"
"I don't know, and I don't think he does either. I get the impression he's just calling out everyone he can, hoping that someone will be able to do something."
"A Tank. Holy Shit."
"Yeah. But there's some good news."
"What!?"
"I just saved a bunch of money on my car insur..." That was a far as I got before she hit me with the boot she had been putting on. It did make her quit obsessing about what we were up against.
We dressed so fast that we had to check each other to make sure nothing had been forgotten or put on backward or something. Everything seemed in order as I snapped the fanny pack around my waist. It had every bit of equipment that would fit crammed into it. Neeka pinned up her beautiful red hair and yanked her chauffeur's cap down low on her head."
"I guess we're ready," I said.
"Not yet. Your face."
"What about it?"
"Duh! It's you. You better believe the TV people will be all over this story. Do you want your face on the evening news?"
"Oh! Right." I turned on The Dragon mask. Just for the heck of it, I did it full-body, although no one would see anything but my face and as little of that as I could manage. I pulled my hood up and over my hair, tugging it as far down over my face as far as I could and still see. "OK. Let's go."
She turned up the broad collar of her jacket and put on her sunglasses, hiding her identity as effectively as my hood and moving make-up hid mine. I kicked the braces under the double doors as she prepared the motorcycle for launch.
When she cranked the engine and twisted the throttle, it fired to life with a deep roar that sounded almost like a wild animal. In the workshop it could easily have been mistaken for a real dragon. I straddled the bike behind her and hung on tight as she gunned it and we shot out the door.
She had to brake and swerve sharply to avoid hitting her car; something I hoped would make her more cautious. My hope was quickly dashed as she sped down the driveway and into the street at suicidal speed. If anything, she became more aggressive, driving faster and cutting corners more sharply. Finally, we made it to the highway and she turned onto it with the bike leaned over so low that I thought surely we were going to slide across the asphalt. She made it, though and once on the wider road, she took off like a bullet with the big engine howling and my eardrums complaining.
On this trip I kept my opinions of her driving and the discomfort of riding the bike to myself. She was right about this being the best way to get somewhere in the shortest possible time, and if the situation was anywhere as bad as the Sheriff's tone implied, speed was what we needed right now.
Neeka threaded her way expertly, if frighteningly, through the light afternoon traffic. We had made good time getting home and getting dressed and it was still well before the time for school to let out. This was good because there was an Elementary school and a Middle school almost directly across from each other on this road. Both had been built on a tract of land that had been foreclosed for back taxes when some big landowner died without leaving a will, an obvious heir, or enough money in the bank to keep the property out of the county's clutches. I knew this because I had been using the database Neeka had setup on my computer to find out who the property owners were of the places where crimes happened. Outside of the thousands of small residential plots, it was surprising how much land in the county was owned by so few people. Even more surprising was how much of it was in the name of Reynolds.
Reaching an empty stretch of road past the schools, Neeka leaned forward and accelerated to such a ridiculous speed that I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking her to please slow the hell down. The trees beside the highway flashed by so quickly that they became a blur. I decided I was better off not seeing that, and I closed my eyes and tried to get my heart to stop pounding so hard.
The bike never had time to reach its top speed before the roar of the engine fell off and Neeka braked and then dropped into a lower gear. I thought we were there and I opened my eyes again and peeked around her shoulder.