Over the Limit – Part 5 – Poker Night [Fmmmm] [Ffm]

Over the next few weeks I got used to the rhythms of the household. She showed me how they liked breakfast and dinner, how she expected laundry done, and other such chores. She had me dress in the sweatpants and hoodie that were in my closet, and showed me which grocery stores and malls my collar was programmed to allow me to visit. They had a small car that I could use for these errands.
After breakfast each morning, while she started dealing with emails in the study, he would take me to their bedroom and use me. It was usually from behind, bent over the bed, but when he was in a more leisurely mood he would take me in the shower with him and have me wash him. I delighted in washing his thick black hair, and soaping up his muscles. Then I sank to my knees in front of him and sucked him off. He liked it when I slipped a soapy finger into his ass and massaged his prostate. The first time he warned me that semen shouldn’t be allowed to go down a shower drain, so I always made sure to swallow and relish every drop.
She used me less frequently, maybe twice a week having me lick her to orgasm, but she sometimes took me into the huge bathtub with her, where I carefully washed her hair and body, then reached around her and rubbed her clit until she sighed back against my tits and rested her head on my shoulder, gently whispering “good slut…”. It would shock the old, free me to see how much I hung on every positive word from her.
Since then, I’d been punished twice, once for something I genuinely did wrong, and once when I deliberately spilled a drink because I was craving the paddle. Each punishment ended with them letting me come, so not exactly discouraging bad behaviour…
Other than those two times I’d only been allowed to come between 11 and 12 on thursday evenings. Any other time I got close to coming, the collar started to apply increasingly menacing tingles to my neck until I forced my arousal to retreat. Servicing my master every day without being granted release was a nightmare, but it made the orgasms I did have explosive.
One Saturday afternoon, the mistress called me to her.
“It’s my husband’s turn to host poker night tonight. I always make myself scarce, so it’ll be up to you to be the hostess. Go take a shower and shave especially carefully.”
I guess I knew what my role would be, then. I followed her instructions and took extra care shaving in the shower, then joined her in the master bedroom. She examined my body thoroughly, stroking my armpits and legs, and carefully fingering my labia and asshole for stray hairs. When she was satisfied, she directed me to the bed, where there was some underwear folded. “You’ll be clothed tonight, so put that on.”
It was a pretty black lace bra and panty set, but the panties were special – instead of a cloth gusset, there was a row of pearls in the front! I wriggled into them, and let the pearls rest between my pussy lips.. They slid up and down and rubbed my clit when I walked around, and it felt amazing. She then had me put on hold-up stockings and black high-heeled shoes.
She looked me up and down and nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I think this will show everyone that we have the best slave.” I glowed with pride.
She had me sit at her makeup table and did my hair – carefully piled on top, with a sexy whisp dangling over my face. She let me do my own makeup, then handed me a pair of long black teardrop earrings.
Finally, she brought out a little black dress. It was utterly beautiful, and I could tell from the fabric that it was very expensive.
“I had this specially made for you, so it should fit perfectly.”
“Thank you, mistress,” I said, “it’s gorgeous!”
As she helped me into it, she said, “just be sure not to get cum on it.”
“Yes, mistress,” I replied, “is there any particular way you’d like me to behave tonight?”
“Be as classy as you can, while giving them everything they want. For this one night, you may also make eye contact with the guests, but not your master.”
She had me walk up and down the room, while she watched. In the mirror I could see that the dress just about came below the stocking-tops when I was standing still, but showed them when I walked – very sexy!
She examined me closely once again, stroking the fabric so it lay perfectly, then took hold of my face with one hand and lifted it up to meet hers – usually a punishable offence.
“Now listen carefully – your collar will remain switched on until I get home, and under no circumstances are you to wash yourself in any way until then, understand?”
“Yes, mistress,” I stammered. So no orgasm for me, no matter what the guests did to me.
Next, she had me help her dress. She put on much more elaborate underwear – a full bustier top that I had to lace up for her, and matching panties, garter belt and stockings. On top of that, I helped her into a glorious gold lamé ball gown that was delivered that afternoon. She looked incredible – I wondered where she was going, but it was not my place to ask.
She left shortly thereafter. The master was working in his study and didn’t need me, so I prepared for the evening. I took the extra leaves out of the dining table so that it was round, and set out the poker chips and cards, then prepared all the appetizers, chicken wings and drinks.
At seven-thirty he took a shower (without me) and comes out dressed office-casual – slacks, collared shirt with no tie.
“You look very nice,” he said. I blushed. “Thank you, master.” It was rare he complimented my appearance – he usually showed appreciation of my body in much more physical ways.
The phone rang, and I answered it. It was the concierge downstairs announcing that the master’s guests had arrived. I told him to send them up.
By the time they reached the apartment, I was standing by the open door ready to greet them.
There were four of them, all handsome men in their late thirties, maybe early forties. Two had dark hair, one was very nordic looking, and the last one in was african with that sexy ‘educated in England’ West African accent. One of the dark haired guys was wearing ridiculous red trousers that I bet he thought made him look cool, the other one was dressed more formally than the others, sporting a blue tie.
They glanced at me curiously as I took their coats, trying to be subtle about checking me out.
My master came out and greeted them, “Hey, guys, welcome to my humble abode!”
He began to lead them through to the dining room, when the african man asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Master looked momentarily confused, then realized he meant me.
“Oh,” he said dismissively, “that’s just our new slave.”
Their demeanour towards me changed in a heartbeat. No more sly glances – they all openly stared at me, looking me up and down, appraising me.
“Holy shit,” exclaimed red-pants, “Sarah let you buy that?”
“Actually, it was Sarah that bought her.” replied my master.
“And she lets you use her?” Asked the blonde.
“Of course, why pay for a top-of-the-line pleasure model if you’re just going to have her do housework? I enjoy her on a daily basis.” There was a tingle in my cunt at being described like that.
“Damn, Martha made me buy a fat middle-aged one for our house,” said the other brown-haired guy.
“But you still fuck her, don’t you,” asked the african.
“Well, sure, but Martha doesn’t know.”
The african laughed, “of course she knows, she just doesn’t care as long as you enjoy her more than the slave.”
There were knowing chuckles and the guy with the fat slave looked sheepish.
“There are two kinds of guys,” said red-pants, “those that admit fucking their slave-girls, and liars!”.
There was general laughter, and fat slave guys seemed relieved it was no longer at his expense.
I decided to take up the hostess role again.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll please follow me, I’ll get you set up with drinks.”
I led them through to the dining room, making sure to wiggle the ass I knew they were all watching.
They took their seats around the table, and I took their drinks orders. I stood right by the african gentleman as I did it, sensing that he was the most confident, and I was correct – I immediately felt his hand stroking my calf, then quickly sliding up past my knee. He paused briefly to feel the lacy stocking tops, then was up caressing my bare inner thigh. He inched higher, and it was a struggle now to speak and remember the orders, I was so turned on. I clenched my thighs when he was just millimeters from my pussy – I didn’t want him discovering the pearls too soon – and he withdrew his hand without a fuss. No-one else at the table noticed.
When I returned with the drinks and bowls of snacks, the guys were chatting casually, laughing about something that happened at work – some silly slave girl that kept dropping paperwork until she had to be spanked. Surely they weren’t dumb enough to think she did that by accident?
Master dealt the first hand, and soon the evening was comfortably under way.
I mostly hung back, waiting patiently and listening, regularly stepping forward to refresh drinks and snack bowls. Whenever I was next to a guy, there was a hand on my ass, but only the african was confident enough to go under my dress. Whenever I leaned over a guy to reach for his glass, I made sure to brush my tit against him. Seduction 101.
They played about five hands, and my master was winning almost everything, and there was grumbling around the table.
“Ok,” he laughed, “I can see you guys are bad losers tonight, so how about we change the stakes?”
They were interested.
“Like what?” asked red-pants.
“Let’s play strip poker,” said master.
The african gave a loud laugh. “I know I’m a very handsome man, but you really want to see my cock?”
Master laughed, “No, dummy, her!” He tossed a peanut at me.
“Slut, how many items of clothing are you wearing?”
“If you count each shoe and stocking, then seven, master.”
Fat-slave guy interjected, “You slave is called Slut? Wow, mine is just called Agnes.”
“No stupid,” chuckled the african, “she’s called whatever you call her. How often does she let you fuck her?”
“Usually about once a,” he began, but the african interrupted. “No, she lets you fuck her whenever you want to fuck her. She’s a slave, and you are her master. You need to take charge!“ He turned to me, “Slut, when does your master fuck you?”
“Whenever he wishes, sir.”
“That’s right, a slave is available to her master whenever he likes. When you wake up tomorrow, I want you to take your Agnes right away, no matter if she’s in the middle of her chores – you dominate her, ok? And call her whatever you like.” He obviously had strong feelings about the matter.
Fat-slave guy nodded unhappily, and there was an awkward pause.
I stepped in, “So gentlemen, are we agreed that the winner of each hand gets to remove an item of my clothing?”
Thankful for the change of topic, they all agreed, and the blonde guy dealt.
Red-pants won the first hand. I placed my left foot in his lap, and he slowly removed my shoe whilst caressing my ankle.
Fat-slave guy got my other shoe.
Master got one stocking, then the african the other. He made quite a show of it, getting on his knees in front of me, and sliding both hands up under my dress with his face close to my crotch. He must surely have been able to smell how turned on I was. Slowly, he rolled the stocking down and off my foot, then lifted my foot and took the big toe between his full lips. I had to reach out and steady myself on his chair as the leg I was standing on was trembling.
He let me go with a smile, and the game continued.
The dress was next, and blue-tie got that. He stood behind me as he unzipped it, then let it fall to the floor, revealing me to the company in just my skimpy underwear. I raised my arms and gave them a twirl, and it was then that they noticed the string of pearls nestling between my pussy lips.
“Damn, that’s sexy!” Exclaimed blondie.
Red-pants reached forward to touch, but I covered my crotch.
“Master, I am of course a slave, free for anyone to touch, but don’t you think this particular touch should first go to the one who wins the hand?”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed, “hands off her panties until you win the right to peel them off.”
Red-pants backed off and sat down again. The next hand was dealt, and I refreshed the drinks, once again resting a scantily-clad tit on each shoulder as I worked my way around the table.
The african won, and I turned my back to him as he stood. He caressed my shoulders as he pulled my bra straps off them, then leaned in and kissed my neck. I gasped, and my knees nearly collapsed.
He moved his hands down to the clasp between my shoulder blades, and undid it, leaving the bra hanging loose over my tits. He slid his hands around my torso, onto my belly, then up under the bra to cup my large, firm breasts. I wriggled my shoulders and the bra fell to the ground. He kept my breasts covered, squeezing and massaging them firmly, then took my nipples between finger and thumb and teased them to hardness. My eyes were closed now, my breaths coming hard and fast.
“Very nice,” he said quietly, “firm, full and one hundred percent natural. I wasn’t so sure…”
“Well, let the rest of us see!” Said red-pants.
Slowly, he slid his hands off my tits and down to my hips, and turned me first one way, then the other to present my chest to the table.
“Nice,” said fat-slave-girl guy, appreciatively, “lets see them move.”
I complied, bouncing on my knees slightly, and twisting my hips so my tits bounced and jiggled. It reminded me of how I used to show them off at college parties when I got drunk enough. I used to love that feeling of all eyes on me, wanting me, lusting after me, and I had that same feeling now. Despite being a lowly slave girl, I felt like I was the most powerful person in the room. Even my master was entranced, even though he fucked me every day. I bet he’d get me to dance for him in future.
“Ok,” he said finally, breaking the spell and dealing the cards, “the next hand is the big one.”
This one was long and hard-fought – they all wanted to be first to touch my pussy, and while they played I walked around the table and let them all feel my breasts.
Halfway through, the african spoke up, “are we agreed that the winner must remove the panties without using his hands?” They were.
Blondie won. He knelt down in front me, took hold of my ankles, and pressed his face into my crotch. He inhaled deeply, and let out a soft moan, but quickly realized he couldn’t get his teeth around the fabric or the pearls, so moved to my hips. There, he was able to get his teeth under the silk and behind to tug downward. He had to switch sides a couple of times, but soon had the panties hanging loosely around my thighs, held only in place between my legs.
“May I suggest behind next, sir?” I asked politely.
He turned me, and I felt his face pressed between my cheeks, struggling to get hold of the fabric. I bent slightly and parted my cheeks for him until I felt him get it and pull down.
They were now held only by the pearls clutched between my pussy lips, and I made him work for it. His tongue probed and pressed, pressing forcefully against my lips to get behind the pearls. I spread my legs wider to give him access, and soon there was a triumphant grunt as he got them between his teeth. He crouched low as he pulled the panties all the way down and I stepped out of them, then stood and tossed them into the middle of the table.
“How does she taste?” asked master, amused.
“Damn fine!”
There was so much slobber between my legs that I felt I should go wipe, but I remembered the mistress’ instructions, and left it to dry.
Master patted the table. “Get up, slut, and give everyone a good look.”
I climbed up onto the table on all fours, trying not to knock over the stack of chips with my swinging tits, and slowly shuffled around in a circle, presenting my ass and pussy to each man in turn.
“What next, now she’s nude?” asked blue-tie.
“How about we ramp up sexual favours,” suggested my master, “starting with a hand job?”
They all agreed, and dealt again.
Now that I was naked, they were all over me whenever I was near the table. Hands fondled my tits and ass constantly and my body was tingling all over. I was handing fat-slave guy a fresh drink when he slid his hand up my inner thigh so forcefully that his thumb went right into my vagina, and I started spilling a little liquor on him.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” I exclaimed, “I’ll fetch a towel.”
But he grabbed me by the arm. “I think that kind of clumsiness needs to be punished, don’t you?” he said, laughing.
“Yes, put her over your knee,” said blondie.
Fat-slave slid back his chair and patted his lap, and I obediently lay myself across it, pushing my ass invitingly into the air, and bracing my hands against the floor. He laid three medium slaps across each buttock, and I felt his cock harden under me.
“That’s pathetic,” laughed blondie, “give her here.”
I stood and then lay myself across his lap. He gave me six slightly harder spanks, then I was passed to master, then blue-tie. My bottom was only mildly warm when I turned to the african. “Would sir like a turn?”
“You guys have no idea how to discipline a slave,” he said, “I’ll show you!”
He pulled me across his lap, but instead of just letting me lie there, he wrapped a strong arm around my waist, completely immobilizing me, and began to lay brutally hard smacks to my bare bottom.
I squealed and yelled in pain, and squirmed to get away, but he had me. I thrashed my legs up and down, showing every inch of myself, but I couldn’t get away, and he covered every part of my bottom and upper thighs with hard, stinging slaps. I was soon sobbing uncontrollably, but as I felt my collar begin to tingle, I realized I was also close to coming. He finally stopped.
“Now, little slut, tell me what you want.”
“I want you not to hit me any more!” I sobbed.
“No, look into your soul, and tell me what you really want.”
I paused, then, from deep within me, in my heart, my gut, my womb, the truth blurted out, “I want your cock!”
“Good,” he said, gently, “now open your legs.”
I did, and he slipped two fingers inside me, and held them up. “Look at this, I bet she’s never been this wet in her entire life. The trick now, of course, is to deny her the release she craves. On your feet, and show your bottom around the table, then clean your face.”
I struggled to my feet, clutching my throbbing bottom, and showed myself to each guest in turn, then I scurried off to the master bedroom and cleaned my face, then re-did my makeup quickly. I had to do it standing, of course, not only because of the pain, but also the fear of staining the furniture with my dripping cunt. All I could think about is having his cock inside me.
Once I’d pulled myself together, I re-entered the dining room just in time for the next hand to finish. Blue-tie had won.
“Am I to give the hand-job in here, or would sir prefer it in private?”
“It has to be in here,” said red-pants, “we need to be sure he’s not getting more than he won!”
Blue-tie turned his chair to the side, and I knelt in front of him. As my still-burning bottom touched my heels, I winced, and lifted myself up slightly, then leaned forward and unbuckled his belt. He lifted up so I could pull his trousers and underpants down to his ankles, then I stroked my hands up his spread thighs until I was holding his balls in one hand and his uncut cock in the other. I began to massage, and it grew to full hardness. It was a nice enough cock, average size. I stroked and squeezed it, and a drop of precum oozed out of the tip. I resisted the urge to lick it, and instead smeared it around the head with my thumb. He moaned softly.
As I stroked more firmly, he leaned forward and fondled my tits. I rolled his balls around in my hand, and slipped a finger underneath to massage his taint, and he let out a gasp. I was sliding his foreskin briskly up and down his shaft now, and I could hear his breath getting faster and his balls tightening. Not long now. “Would sir like to imagine fucking my tight pussy?”
That’s all it took. His cock swelled as the semen gushed out, thick, sticky ropes of cum splashing over my tits and belly, dripping off my nipples and running down between my legs.
“Oh, Christ!” he gasped, “Damn, Jim, she gives as good as she looks!”
I stood and allowed the company to admire my dripping tits. “Master, the mistress instructed me not to clean myself off under any circumstances.”
“Yes, she told me, just rub it in so you don’t drip on the carpet.”
“Yes master.” I rubbed the cum all over my tits and belly and a little into my thighs until there was no danger of it dripping. When I was done, I realized they were all watching, practically drooling. I blushed.
“Will the next prize be a blow job?” I asked, smiling.
They agreed, and master dealt. Blue-tie decided to sit this hand out, saying his cock couldn’t take any more of me right now, and instead had me sit in his lap and casually fingered my pussy while we watched the others play.
My master won, but graciously said that he can fuck my mouth whenever he liked, so someone else should have me. They drew cards, and fat-slave won. I went to kneel in front of him, but he said, “no, on your back on the table.”
I cleared the cards and chips to one side of the table, and sat up on it then lay back and let my head hang off the edge. I watched upside down as he unzipped. His cock wasn’t fully hard yet as I reached my hands back to pull it toward me, and first I took his balls into my mouth, gently rolling them around with my tongue.
“Oh…, oh, my god” he groaned, and leaned forward, his hands on my tits. He was hard now, so I took him in my mouth and sucked hard. He gripped my tits hard and pushed into my throat. Thankfully I’d done this before (many times), and I controlled my gag reflex. There was now nothing I could do except lie there and have my face fucked, and he was soon pounding away.
Someone stroked my thighs, and the african man said, “I want to taste her before one of you fuckers comes inside her.” Then I felt a mouth on my pussy, licking and sucking, then pushing inside me. My legs were lifted, and the tongue probed my ass too.
“Don’t hog her,” said a voice, and the mouth on my cunt was replaced with another, then another. This one worked my clit so expertly that my collar began tingling, and I was scared it would full-on shock me, so I focused on the cock in my mouth. I wrapped my hand around the base so he couldn’t go in as deep, and began to work the tip with my tongue and lips. He soon realized this felt much better than just fucking my throat, and let me work. I tried my best to get my mind off the tongue on my clit, and the collar backed off.
I was stroking the shaft now, and with my other hand I gave the balls a squeeze, and there it went, hot jizz filling my mouth, shooting down my throat. There was so much, it almost choked me, lying like that on my back.
Finally, he pulled out, and everyone had had a turn on my pussy, so I was allowed up. I tidied the table and got the game going again.
The guys were really horny now as I freshened their drinks, and I could barely move without feeling fingers in my pussy, pinching my nipples, squeezing my tits, and even penetrating my asshole. This was better than any fantasy I could have had about being a slave girl, and I expected my cunt to be the next prize up, and indeed at that very moment my master said, “next prize to fuck her pussy?”
He dealt, but left himself out, again citing his ability to fuck me anytime he liked. I felt a distinct glow of satisfaction at that thought.
The african won. Yes! I could barely contain my excitement. I hoped the racist stereotype was true in his case.
“Where would you like me, sir?” I asked him, demurely.
“Why don’t you take her on the couch,” suggested my master, “it’s more comfortable in there.”
He agreed, and I led him into the living room, wiggling my ass seductively in front of him.
“May this slave undress you, sir?” I asked. God, I wanted to get my hands on that cock. I imagined his firm hands on my ass again, and my clit throbbed.
“You may.”
I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off him. He was beautifully built, and I ran my hands over the rippling muscles under his glossy brown skin.
“Girl,” he said sternly, “this is about my pleasure, not yours.”
I hung my head. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”
I knelt in front of him and took his shoes off, then unbuckled his belt, pulled the trousers and underpants down together. Oh god, yes! It was gorgeous, hanging there, long and black and thick. He lifted each leg as I pulled the rest of his clothes off, then I carefully folded them and placed them on an end table and waited for his command.
“Come here.”
I stood before him, both of us now naked.
He reached up and took a breast in each hand. He was more gentle than he was earlier when he was just appraising them, and he fondled them softly, lovingly. I saw his cock begin to rise. He pinched my nipples gently, rolling them to hardness, then suddenly pinched them hard. I gasped, but instead of pulling away, I moved closer.
“You like that?” he said softly.
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t about my pleasure.”
He chuckled, then pinched and twisted them even harder.
‘Please sir,” I moaned, “the collar…”
He looked at me, questioningly, “what about the collar?” He started to tug rhythmically on them.
“My slave collar, it will shock me if I come.”
“Are you so close already?”
“Yes sir, and it’s starting to give me warning shocks. Please sir, I’ve heard it’s unbearable!”
He let go of one nipple and slid that hand down my belly, then cupped my shaved pussy. A single finger toyed with my clit.
“Oh, god sir, please,” I moaned.
Suddenly he grabbed my hips, spun me around and bent me over the arm of a couch and in one thrust he was inside me.
His size was at the very brink of what I could bear – painful, but in a good way, like having my labia bitten. He dug his fingers into my still-sore buttocks and began pounding my sopping wet cunt.
The collar buzzed angrily enough that he heard it. He slowed down a little.
“What would you have me do, girl? I’m not going to give up my chance to come in your juicy little snatch.”
“Please sir, maybe a different angle, so you don’t hit my g-spot?”
He grunted, then pushed me further over onto the couch and kept pounding. It still felt incredibly good, but I thought I could keep from coming.
He was holding me by the hips now, slamming his huge cock into me, faster and faster, until with a roar he shot his load into me. He slumped on top of me, panting. “Damn, little girl, that’s a fine cunt you have there!”
“Thank you for using it, sir.” I replied obediently.
He finally stood and slipped out of me, then wiped his cock on my ass.
“Stay right there,” He ordered, then called out. “Anyone else want a turn?”
It wasn’t long before I heard a zip, then felt another cock slip inside me. I didn’t even bother to see who it was although I could tell it wasn’t my master – not big enough.
After he finished, I stayed in place for a while in case there are any more takers. A little cum leaked out of me and down my thigh.
The african guy had pulled his underpants back on, and settled into an armchair. He put a football game on the tv, and the other guys drifted in, one by one, and sat on the couch to watch.
They seemed to have forgotten about me, so I got up and went to move the snacks from the dining table into the living room.
I brought them each a beer, and as I handed the last one to blondie, sitting on one end of the couch, he pulled me down to sit sideways in his lap. He kept watching the game while absent-mindedly stroking my nipples. I nestled up against him and relaxed for a while.
Halftime came, and the african looked around at the other guys. “Hey, make sure you try that pussy – it’s pretty fine!”
Blondie decided that was good advice, and pushed me off his lap and onto my knees in front of him. He stood so that I could pull down his trousers and underpants. I sucked him to hardness, then turned and presented my behind to him, elbows on the carpet. He stroked his cock up and down my wet pussy a few times, then slipped inside me. He took his time enjoying me, with long, slow strokes, and my sensitive nipples brushed against the carpet as my body rocked back and forth.
He started playing with my asshole, then slipped a finger inside, then another. I braced myself as he pulled his cock out of my cunt and pressed it against my little pucker. I lifted up off my elbows and pushed back hard as it slowly forced its way into my tight ass.
Blue-tie was now just in his underpants. He got on his knees in front of me and dropped them to present his hard cock to my mouth. Now I knew it was him who fucked me earlier, because I could taste my cunt on him. The guys held in place, and I rocked my body back and forth, impaling first my ass, then my throat alternately.
After a while, blondie broke my rhythm by grabbing my hips and beginning to fuck harder. I felt his cock swell in my ass as he shot his load into me with a loud grunt.
Once he was done with me, I encouraged blue-tie to lay on his back so I could focus on his cock. With one hand I worked his balls and taint, and used the other to stroke his shaft vigorously while I sucked on the head. As he squirted into my mouth, I felt hands on my ass again, squeezing and groping, then slipping between my legs to feel up inside my snatch. I looked around – it was the african again, ready for another turn on my hot little cunt. But then I felt it pressing against my ass.
“Sir, I’m not sure I can,” I began, but he shushed me. “You have no say in this, little slut – I’ll use you as I please, and if you resist, I’ll take you anyway, then punish you.” The massive cock pressed harder, and I cried out with the pain and humiliation. He was gripping my hips tightly, forcing himself inch by inch into me. I was determined not to cry, but tears were welling.
As the head passed my sphincter, the pain began to subside, and once he was fully inside me, he whispered, “good girl.” My heart swelled with pride as he began to pound my ass in earnest. The other guys had been watching, and master commented on how he couldn’t believe I could take it, and joked that he’d sue the african if my ass was ruined.
Fat-slave presented his cock to my mouth, and I sucked him hungrily, relishing the two hot cocks in me.
I could tell the cock in my ass was nearly there, but at the last minute he pulled out and flipped me on my back. I watched, enraptured, as he finished stroking his beautiful big black cock and spraying his cum all over my belly and tits. Then fat-slave guy quickly pulled me back up so I could get back to sucking his cock.
When he’d shot his load down my throat and done with me, I turned to red-pants, who was sitting on the couch, watching and stroking his cock.
“May I help, sir?” I asked, with a coy smile.
“Climb on up!”
I climbed up and straddled him, reaching between my legs to guide him into me. Some of the cum on my belly rubbed off on him as I rode him, but he didn’t seem to care, and even pulled me to him so he could bury his face in my cum-soaked tits. I wrapped my arms around his head and slid up and down his gorgeous, hard cock.
“Cum inside me, sir,” I moaned softly into his ear, “make me yours,”
He took my right nipple in his mouth and bit it gently.
“Oh, god, sir, please don’t make me cum!”
The collar was tingling, and I was riding him hard, and I squeezed my cunt down on him as hard as I could. Thankfully, that was enough, and he grabbed my hips and pulled me hard down on him as he unloaded into me. I slumped on to him, my head resting on his shoulder and my growing heat subsided and the collar backed off its warning.
Eventually, I climbed off, semen running down my legs, and pulled myself together. I needed to continue to be the perfect hostess, and make my owners proud.
I headed into the kitchen, to find my master, the only one still dressed, fetching himself another beer.
“You’re doing a good job, Slut,” he said, “they seem to be really enjoying you.”
I glowed with pride, and stood taller. “Thank you, master. Would you like me to pleasure you?”
“Not right now,” and he reached out and caressed my cheek with genuine affection. I thought I might melt.
The guys settled down and watched the second half of the game, gradually getting drunker. Blue-tie wanted to fuck me again, but he’d had too much to drink, and couldn’t get it up, no matter how hard I tried, much to the amusement of his friends. Blondie and red-trousers both had a go, but couldn’t manage it either, so it was left to the african so show them how it was done, laying me on my back on the coffee table and pounding me again with his massive cock.
After that, I settled on the couch between two of them, fondling their flaccid cocks gently as they watched the rest of the game. Once it was over, it became apparent that none of them had any more use for me, so I left them chatting about the game until master told me to call them taxis.
(continued in comments)

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/nhevpi/over_the_limit_part_5_poker_night_fmmmm_ffm