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)
Author: SilkPantyGirl
Over the Limit – Part 4 – Home [Ffm]
I took a walk around the apartment. It was spacious, two master bedrooms, a guest room, study, dining room, lounge, huge kitchen with a big island, and even a small gym. At the very end of the long hallway, past the laundry room, was what can only be described as a cell. It was a small, bare room with a single bed and a tiny window. The lock was on the outside of the door. There was a nightstand with an alarm clock. It had a small bathroom attached, with a shower stall, toilet and sink. On the sink was a new toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, unscented deodorant and a packet of disposable razors. There was also a big bottle of lotion, and in the shower there was a bottle of shampoo. In the little closet was a single pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, a pair of sneakers, two towels and a box of tampons. I was clearly not an impulse purchase.
I headed back to what was obviously my new owner’s bedroom and had a look around. The walk-in closet was obviously shared, women’s clothes on one side, men’s on the other. I checked the labels. These guys had expensive tastes. She had some very expensive handbags, he had a collection of watches, some of the brands I’d never even heard of. In a plastic tub behind her dresses were a selection of sex toys; dildos, cock rings, a magic wand, a strap-on dildo (!) and a large paddle with holes drilled in it. I made sure I put it back exactly how I found it.
There was a full laundry hamper in the corner – time to make a good impression.
I carried the hamper down to the laundry room and began sorting. He seemed to have fairly pedestrian tastes in underwear – plain Calvins, but she seemed to really like delicate lingerie. I know I shouldn’t have, (what if they have hidden cameras?) but I couldn’t help but press a pair of panties to my face. There was a faint smell of sweat, a little urine, but mostly feminine arousal. I felt like she had had an orgasm wearing these. Guiltily, I shoved them in the machine with the rest, and started a delicates cycle.
I headed back to the kitchen. The dishwasher was clean, but full, so I slowly and carefully emptied it. It took a while in that large kitchen to work out where everything went, then I rinsed the dishes that were in the sink and stacked them in the dishwasher.
By the time I was done, the washer had finished, so I transferred the load to the dryer on low.
I was now at a bit of a loss – it was eleven pm, and no sign of my owners. As I walked across the kitchen I felt a sticky patch on my bare feet, so I went looking for a mop. There wasn’t one anywhere in the apartment, but there was a scrubbing brush in a bucket in the laundry room. I filled the bucket with soapy water, and took it to the kitchen, and began to scrub the floor on my knees. I was about halfway done when I heard the front door open, and quickly got to my feet. I stood with my feet tightly together, hands clasped behind my back, eyes down.
Footsteps came into the kitchen.
“Who the fuck are you?!” A male voice demanded.
I stammered, surprised, “I’m, I’m your new slave, didn’t you buy me today?”
“I didn’t buy a slave.” He said shortly. I didn’t know what to say.
Then I heard him on the phone. “Hi Babe, anything you forgot to tell me? … Well, she’s here.” He walked over to the fridge, and I risked a quick look. He was your classic tall, dark and handsome, wearing a nice suit. Cool!
He turned back toward me, and I quickly looked down again.
“Well, she seems to have done the dishes, want me to have her do anything else? … Ok, see you in soon.”
“Well,” he said, “it seems my wife bought you, so you are indeed our new slave.”
“Yes, master,” I said, “I was just scrubbing the floor, may I continue?”
“Well, sure,” he said, “go ahead.”
I got back down on my knees, dipped the brush in the bucket and continued. I turned round as I scrubbed, until I was facing away from him. My paper smock covered nothing, and I was sure he was watching my ass wiggle. I parted my legs a little. I didn’t want to be too wanton right away, but I wanted him to see my cunt. I wished I could look around, but I didn’t dare. I kept scrubbing, but my pussy was getting damp. I wondered if he was getting hard. I hope he liked what he saw.
I kept scrubbing. I couldn’t tell if he was even still in the room, but I kept displaying myself as if he was.
Then I heard the front door again. The click of heels.
A female voice, “Well, what do you think of her?” The voice was familiar. Dammit, where did I know her from? The TV maybe? Was she famous?
“She sure has a nice ass,” he said, “and she’s not trying to hide it.”
“No, I’m not surprised, she’s a total slut – take a look at this history.”
There was a pause, then he gave a low whistle. “She’s not just a slut, she’s a total whore!”
He wasn’t not wrong. Even hearing them talk about me like that was getting me wet.
“And if you like her ass, wait ‘till you see her tits. Girl, stand up!”
I quickly scrambled to my feet and turned toward her. She stepped over to me, and in one swift motion, ripped my paper smock off. I was stark naked again.
“Damn!” He exclaimed.
“And they’re natural,” she continued, giving my left boob a squeeze, “come try.”
He came over and fondled me too. “Nice and firm,” he agreed.
I was trying to work out how I knew her, and I risked a glance at her face. Shit! It was the woman from the slave auction who inspected me, the one who I thought ate my pussy!
But she was looking right at me when I looked up, and we made eye contact. In a flash she slapped me hard across the face, making me stagger sideways and clutch my cheek.
“How dare you make eye contact with me, you filthy slave whore! James, fetch the paddle, she needs to be punished.”
“Now darling, it was just a mistake! I’m sure she won’t do it again, will you?”
“No!” I sputtered, “I promise! I’m so sorry, mistress!”
“No,” she said firmly, “it’s important to give no quarter in these matters, or they take advantage. James, please fetch it.”
He relented and headed to the bedroom.
“And the cuffs,” she called after him.
He returned with the paddle I found earlier and a pair of handcuffs.
“Hands behind you, slut.” She commanded, and he snapped the cuffs on me.
She turned me toward the kitchen island, and he quickly moved a bowl of fruit out of the way. She pushed me up against the counter, then bent me over until my tits were pressing on the cold marble.
“Hold her.”
He walked around the island so he was by my head, and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, pinning me down.
“Now, slut, the sooner you learn the rules, the fewer punishments you’ll get, understand?
“Yes, mistress, I’m sorry!”
She placed the paddle against my buttocks. It felt cold and frightening.
“You will count out the swats.”
She lifted the paddle, and I braced myself, still acutely aware of the cuts across my skin from my earlier caning.
SMACK!
I yelped, and instinctively tried to stand, but his strong hands held me down. I wanted to grab my bottom, but my cuffed hands stopped me.
“Count!”
“One,” I sobbed.
SMACK!
“Two!” The pain was intense. I’d been spanked during sex before, but nothing like this.
SMACK!
“Three!” The heat was spreading across my cheeks, and there was a little buzz in my pussy lips.
SMACK!
“Four!” Each stroke made my cunt quiver. Shit, did I actually like this?
SMACK!
“Five!” I could barely get the word out, I was sobbing so hard.
SMACK!
“Six!” I wailed. How many more?
But suddenly her voice was soft, almost gentle.
“There there, little slut, you took those well.” She rubbed my bottom. “Honey, pass the lotion, please.”
He released my shoulders, but I didn’t try to get up. I was still sobbing, a teary, snotty mess.
She began to soothe my bottom with cold lotion. Her caresses are so kind and loving that I could hardly make sense of it. Slowly, the feeling returned, and as it did, her strokes became less soothing, and more sexual. Her fingers began to work into my crack, brushing my puckered hole, and down to my pussy lips. She gently parted them, and ran a finger around my entrance.
“Come feel how wet she is.”
His hands were between my legs now, probing and squeezing, slipping inside me. I let out a sigh as he brushed my clit.
“I think you should claim her,” she said, softly.
I heard a zip, then the unmistakable feel of a hard cock nuzzling against my pussy. He rubbed it up and down, spreading my wetness all the way from my clit to my asshole, then slowly slid his full, thick length inside me. I let out a long, low groan. He gripped my hips and began to fuck me, while she continued to rub my buttocks.
After about a minute, she said, “Don’t come yet, sweetheart.”
“Why not, I’m really close,” he grunted.
“I want her to taste you.”
“Oh, ok,” he pulled out and walked around the island. He stood on tiptoes and presented his glistening cock to my eager mouth. I tasted his salty precum, mixed with my pussy juices. I sucked and slurped as he slid in and out. Her hands moved between my cheeks and began to finger my asshole, first one, then two.
“You’re still not done,” she said, “come back here and claim the final hole.”
He pulled out and went back behind me. Her fingers were still in me, so he filled my cunt again, but then she made room, and he pushed his cock against my asshole. He pressed hard, but my hole resisted and clenched tight.
“Don’t fight it,” she advised. I tried to open up.
Millimeter by millimeter his big cock forced its way past my sphincter and filled me. Once all the way in, he paused for a few moments, then began fucking.
“God, she’s tight,” he groaned.
“Yes,” she replied, “I thought you’d enjoy her little hole.”
She slipped her hand underneath me and began to finger my pussy as he enjoyed my ass. It felt incredible. I was building towards a massive orgasm, but then he suddenly shot his load inside me, and she let go of my cunt.
I groaned loudly in disappointment.
She chuckled as he pulled out. “Slut, don’t even think about cumming without permission, understand?”
“Yes, mistress.” I sigh.
“Now,” she says, freeing my wrists, “Go get a shower, then we’ll deal with some stubble I felt on your twat. I assume you’ve found your quarters?”
“Yes, mistress.” I replied.
Once the water was nice and hot, I stepped into the little cubicle and let it soak me. I lathered up my hair and rinsed, then I squatted down and let the semen leak out of my bottom. As a tiny act of rebellion, I peed in the shower. I bet she didn’t. Then I scrubbed myself thoroughly.
Once I was dry, I quietly walked down the hall, and stopped outside the kitchen to listen.
“It’s the very latest tech,” she was saying, “It has GPS and an app so we can set routes she’s allowed to go for errands. I figure we’ll send her over to clean the rental too, instead of using the agency.”
“Good idea,” he said, “we could also offer her as an extra. Some of our short-term renters are businessmen from out of town – I bet they’d love use of her for a few days.”
“We could rent her out for private parties too.”
A pause.
“And look at this,” she continued, “the collar records all her biometric data. See here, this is all when she was alone here, then this spike must be when you got home. Then this is where I spanked her. Look how close she came to coming! It can be programmed to punish her if she orgasms, too.”
He chuckled. “Man, that’s harsh, but we’re going to have a lot of fun with her. Those tits! I was expecting you to get a boring, middle-aged one like all the guys at the office. You’re the best wife ever!”
I heard them kiss.
I entered the kitchen and stood quietly, eyes down, hands clasped in front of me. I noticed the central island was now covered with a towel, and there was a razor and a large bowl.
“Get up here, slut,” she ordered, “on your back. It’s shaving time!”
I climbed up and laid down, hands flat by my side, knees up and spread wide.
“Well, how do you want her?” She asked, “Completely bare like me?”
“How about you let a little landing strip grow out, so I can tell you apart in the dark?”
She chuckled, and I heard the sound of an aerosol can, and she smeared shaving cream on me, then began carefully scraping with a razor that she frequently dipped in the hot water. At first, he was watching from beside her, but then he moved beside me and began absent-mindedly playing with my nipples as he watched.
“Legs up.” She ordered, and I grabbed behind my knees and pulled them up, and she shaved around my asshole. It felt incredibly intimate. I hoped she’d allow me to masturbate later. I didn’t like the idea of the collar shocking me if I came. I usually rubbed one out at least once a day, so this could be torture!
“Ok,” she said, “what do you think?”
He reached his hand between my thighs and stroked my freshly shaved pussy. His fingers examined every inch of me, gently stroking my lips, and reaching under to rub my asshole. God, I wanted him in me again!
“Nice job.”
“Up you get,” she ordered, and I climbed off the island. She handed me a small towel, and I cleaned the remaining cream off myself. She waved toward the shaving implements, and I scurried to clean them away. When I was out of their sight, I took a moment to feel my pussy – she did a really good job, and had left just a tiny amount of stubble to grow into the landing strip he had suggested.
“I want to see her come,” I heard him say. Oh God, yes!
“It’s pretty late, honey, how about tomorrow?”
“Oh, come on,” he pleaded, “neither of us have to work tomorrow.”
She relented. “Slut, into our bedroom!”
I obeyed, and stood at the foot of the bed and waited for them.
He came in first. He ignored me and began to get undressed. He kicked his shoes into the closet, then carefully hung up his suit coat and trousers. I tried to look like I wasn’t watching as he tossed his shirt into the hamper, followed by his socks and underpants. He had a lovely body – a masculine chest, nicely muscled shoulders and a tight little bottom on top of great legs. And I’d already experienced his delicious cock. He climbed into bed and watched me standing there nude before him, but I wasn’t supposed to see where he was looking, so I continued to wait patiently.
Just then, she came in. “Undress me.”
I quickly knelt in front of her and took her shoes off, then stood and unzipped her skirt as she turned her back to me. She stepped out of it and I carefully picked it up.
“Will you wear this again, mistress, or should I put it in the laundry?”
She seemed to appreciate my thoughtfulness, and said, “hang it up, it’s still good.”
I obeyed, and she turned back to face me, and I unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it in the hamper. Next I unsnapped her bra and tossed that too. As I crouched in front of her to pull down her tights, I was shocked to see her nipples were pierced with little gold bars. She had nice tits, though, big and heavy, with large nipples.
Once the tights were off, I was left kneeling in front of her, facing her crotch. I reached up to the waistband and hesitated for a second.
“Slut,” she said, “You don’t get to hesitate when I give you an instruction, or do you want to be punished again?.”
I quickly grabbed the panties and pulled them down. As he had suggested before, she was shaved completely bare, and as she lifted her legs to step out of the underwear, her nice fleshy lips were displayed to me.
She grabbed my hair roughly, and pulled my face into her crotch. The scent of her arousal was strong, delicious. I pushed my tongue into her slit and quickly found her clitoris.
She groaned, “God, yes!”
I pushed my tongue up and down it, and tried to suck it between my lips, but I couldn’t do it because her legs were closed. She turned herself around until she could sit back on the bed, still clutching my hair, dragging me with her on my knees. She pulled me up and pressed my face into her left tit, and I hungrily sucked on her large nipple, then she pushed my head back down between her open thighs. I began working her cunt in earnest, pushing into her hole and smearing the hot juices up all over her lips and clit.
“Fuck!” she groaned.
“I thought this was about making her come,” laughed my master.
“What’s stopping you?” She panted, so he climbed off the bed and came around behind me. Soon his fingers were deep inside me, probing both my pussy and ass, and then rubbing hard on my clit. I started to work two fingers inside my mistress, quickly finding her g-spot and pressing on it while I sucked her clit. She was moaning loudly by now.
Behind me, he slipped his cock into my sopping wet hole and began deep, slow strokes. It felt so fucking good!
I could tell she was on the brink, so I pushed a wet finger into her asshole and fucked her with it. Her legs were shaking now, wrapped tightly around me, and she was muttering, “ohgodohgodohgodohgod”.
Finally she let out a howl and pushed my head away from her crotch. He continued fucking me, but once she recovered she pulled me off his cock and up onto the bed on my back. She climbed up on top of me and took my left nipple in her mouth. She gave it a really hard suck that nearly made me scream since I was still tender from all the abuse my poor titties had suffered, then she worked her mouth down over my belly to my pussy. She gently flicked my clit with her tongue, then sucked on my lips, and then settled into long strokes up from my hole. She was really good at this!
Meanwhile, my master climbed up on the bed next to me and started stroking my nipples, and rolling and tugging them. I was in complete ecstasy as he took my hand and wrapped it around his cock. I immediately began stroking, then turned my head and pulled him toward me until the tip was in my mouth. I could taste my cunt on him, mingled with his precum, and I could tell he was close to shooting his second load into me. With an effort, I slid my hand under him and grabbed his balls, letting the fingers under them press on his taint.
“Oh shit!” he groaned, “that’s incredible!”
I sucked harder, and felt the head swell. At the last second I let him slip out of my mouth and pointed him down my body. Ropes of sticky cum splashed over my tits and belly, and even onto her face, buried between my legs.
The sight of that, along with the thought that I shouldn’t even be looking at her face and that my tender bottom will be spanked if she sees me, sent me over the edge. I squealed and bucked under her tongue. She sucked agonizingly harder for a second, then let go and came up for air, grinning.
I closed my eyes and reveled in the aftershocks of my orgasm, my legs still twitching, and she climbed up on me and licked some cum off my tits.
“Off to bed, slut, tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
Over the Limit – 3 – The Sale [Fm]
“Very well,” said the inspector, “I have all the data I need. You’ll be taken to pre-sale holding momentarily.”
She gave me one more look up and down, then added, “If the brothel that buys you is here in town, maybe I’ll get my husband a voucher for his birthday – I bet he’d enjoy you. Good luck, and remember, tits up!.”
With that she exited the room, leaving me strapped in the chair, most of the sensors still stuck to my skin, and the invasive probes still inside me.
Eventually, the same orderly came for me. He removed the sensors, again taking time to fondle my tits, then unstrapped me and told me to get up. I lifted myself up, and the probes slipped out with a slight squelching sound.
He handed me some tissues and allowed me to wipe myself down there, then led me out of the room, holding up the remote control to remind me to behave myself.
We walked down long corridors, then across a large outdoor space. The wind had gotten up since I arrived, and I shivered in my nakedness. There was a young female orderly leading a naked man wearing a collar like mine across the same space, and he and I made eye contact.
We were led into a large clean warehouse space, full of similarly naked men and women and were left to wait.
Over the next hour or so, more naked slaves joined us. Some of us chatted, and compared notes on our experience. We’d all been through basically the same process, although most of us were not brought to orgasm. One guy told me how his inspector blew him, and she sounded like my one. Everyone I spoke to was also being sold into slavery because of bankruptcy.
Eventually, a door at the top of a short staircase opened, and a tall man in a suit stepped out. He put his hands on the metal railing in front of him and addressed us loudly.
“Attention slaves. The sale is about to begin. You will each be led to the stage, where you’ll be shackled in a spreadeagle position on the auction block to display you to your best advantage. Remember, if you don’t sell for more than you owe, you may end up back here again so it’s to your advantage to put on a good show.”
He continued, “You will be sent up alternating male and female, and it will be the job of the second in line to show off the one currently on sale. You must get them physically aroused, and then bring them to orgasm when instructed by the auctioneer. Once sold, you will be led off the stage and prepped for delivery to your new owner, and the next slave will step onto the block. ” And with that he stepped back through the door, which quickly snapped shut behind him.
I looked around me. So I’d have to jack off one of these guys, then the next one would finger me while a room of buyers watched? Despite what I’d already been through that day, the idea still gave me a thrill. Most of the women around me looked a lot less excited at the prospect.
The door opened again and a woman with a clipboard stepped out.
“Ok people!” She said loudly, “You heard the man, now, starting at the bottom of these steps, form a line around the walls, alternating male and female.”
She pointed to a man close to the foot of the steps, “You first, then you.” This second instruction was directed at a woman near him.
They took their places, and gradually the rest of us, about sixty in all, shuffled into place around the edge of the warehouse. I managed to get myself in between two good-looking men – after all, if I had to endure this, it should at least be with men I’d choose to fuck under normal circumstances, right? There were about fifteen slaves ahead of us, and I wondered how long this would take.
The first man and woman were called through the door, and we all shuffled forward in line. Every three of four minutes the next slave was called through.
When there were only five people ahead of me, the guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder.
“Umm, since I’m about to be groping you, I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Jacob.”
I shook his hand, “Hi, I’m Jen.” I realized it would be the last time my name would be used for years. My purchaser would get to call me whatever he likes.
“So if I need to make you come, you want to tell me what you like?” continued Jacob.
“Sure,” I smiled, “I really like rough nipple play, and then just rub circles on my clit. Here, I’ll show you.”
I took his right hand in mine, and turned and pressed my naked back against him. I brought his hand down to my pussy and pressed two fingers against my clit and began to draw small circles. Gradually I released his hand and he carried on.
“That’s perfect,” I sighed. I felt his cock stiffening against my back, but then he stopped.
“To be continued,” he grinned.
I turned to the guy in front of me. He’d obviously been watching, because his cock was semi-hard.
“What about you?” I asked, “What should I do for you once we’re in there?”
“Well,” he replied, “I like to have the full length stroked, and if you squeeze the base when I come, I can get a pretty good distance – that might sell me better.”
“Cool,” I replied, “I’ll try to aim you at a pretty girl!”
He smiled, “or a rich widow!”
I chuckled ruefully, “I’m hoping the whorehouse that buys me is high-class.”
He laughed, “You mean the kind where they make the guys wash their dicks first?”
“Exactly,” I replied, “I don’t want to end up down by the docks.”
Jacob laughed, “There’s no way you’ll end up dockside, you have all your teeth!”
We all laughed.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I’ll do my best for you in there.”
I squeezed his hand, “thanks,” I whispered, and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. I made sure my tits brushed against him, and his cock bounced against my thigh.
By this time we were halfway up the steps, and the next time the door opened, the guy in front of me was called inside. I wish I’d asked his name – we probably wouldn’t ever get another chance to speak.
After a few minutes, the door opened and I was called through.
I found myself in the darkened wings of a stage. In the center was a raised circular podium about a foot high. On the podium was the guy ahead of me, his legs spread wide and fastened to the floor, and his arms equally wide above him, shackled to cords that disappear up into the darkness of the auditorium. In front of him, some standing, some seated, was a large crowd, maybe three or four hundred strong. These were the buyers. Some were watching the slave, but many were studying hand-held tablets. I guessed they give details of the man for sale, upcoming merchandise etc. They’d soon be seeing my information, my sexual and medical history. Soon everyone in this room would know I’d taken three cocks at once and liked to have my nipples pinched. They’d probably see the closeups of my cunt. They’d know everything about me except my name.
Around the auditorium, on the walls, were large video screens showing the merchandise. Two screens showed the slave’s face from different angles, one showed a close-up view of his genitals and another showed his butt. One on each side was filled with text, but it was too far away for me to read.
Suddenly, a hand gripped my shoulder. I jumped and turned. I hadn’t noticed a man standing in the shadows beside the door. He was dressed all in black, and wore a headset with microphone, and held a tablet in his left hand. He used the camera on the tablet to scan the barcode on my wrist strap. On the screen my full-frontal naked photo appeared.
At that moment, a voice rang out over the loudspeakers.
“Folks, the next lot is number AC263, a male, six foot, one inch tall, two hundred and twenty pounds in weight. As you can see,” and at this point the video screens changed to show the man’s chest, “he’s well muscled. He’d make a great worker, but also a great toy.” The camera panned down to his genitals again, and there were a few feminine giggles from the audience.
The man continued, “and let’s see what potential that beauty has.”
At this, the man beside me pushed me forward, whispering, “Get him hard, then watch me for the signal to make him come. And don’t block the view.”
I stepped forward into the light, acutely aware of my nakedness. I tried to walk tall and hold my tits out. I might not have been the lot on sale right then, but I was next, and I wanted to make a good impression.
I walked up to him and stood in front of him, facing him. I knew I was already breaking the “don’t block the view” rule, but I wanted to make sure the buyers saw my tight butt. I pressed my naked body against his. With his legs spread wide, he was about my height.
I grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth, thrusting my tongue into him, and at the same time I ground my pussy against his stiffening cock and my big tits against his muscled chest.
He gasped as I released my grip, and I grinned at him, “we’re gonna get you a great price,” I whispered, and then slithered around his body so that I was now pressed against him from behind. I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his chest, then worked my way down until I was on my knees, my hand stroking his firm ass. I slid one hand up between his legs to cup his balls, then further up to stroke his shaft, which was now rock hard. On the big screens I could see my hand stroking him, and a little drop of precum emerged from the tip. I had the urge to go back around and take him in my mouth, but I fought it – I’d definitely be in trouble if I blocked that view!
Instead I stood and moved to his right side. With my knees bent, I ground my cunt up and down his spread leg, my right hand working his shaft and my left squeezing his butt cheek. He began to groan in pleasure. I knew I had to wait for the signal. I glanced over at the man in black, and he was making a ‘slow down’ gesture, so I eased the stroking, and just kept it enough to maintain his erection.
The auctioneer continued, “Some good bids, but come on ladies, this fine specimen can’t end up shovelling horse shit on a farm! Imagine that big cock for your own personal pleasure. Picture him in a nice suit carrying your shopping bags when you meet your friends for lunch, how jealous they’ll be!”
The man in black gestured to me to bring the orgasm closer, so I began long, smooth strokes the full length of his cock, making sure my thumb brushed the sensitive head. I slid my other hand down between his legs and pressed up on his taint and tickled his asshole.
“Jesus Christ!” He muttered under his breath, “Where the fuck did you learn that?”
I grinned and stroked harder, still sliding my wet pussy up and down his hot, muscled thigh.
“Ok ladies,” said the auctioneer, “lets see what he’s got!”
The man in black gave me the thumbs up, and I began to stroke in earnest. I slid around in front so I was crouching under his cock. Now my left hand had a firm grip on the base and my right was a blur on the shaft. His legs were beginning to shake and I knew he was really close. It was a beautiful cock, and I wished I could have it inside of me.
His balls began to twitch, and I knew he was right on the brink. He let out a loud groan, and I pressed my thumb against the base to hold back the torrent. I counted to three, then released it, still stroking with my right hand. I felt his cock swell as the torrent of cum rushed out and shot over my shoulder. I glanced around – it almost reached the audience over fifteen feet away!
Several more jets spurted out, and as I felt him finish I couldn’t resist taking him in my mouth and sucking the final bit out, but I quickly moved out of the way again. His legs had given out, and he was hanging by his arms until he was able to pull himself together. I stayed sitting next to him, my knees up and legs spread for the audience to see my wet slit.
There was a long silence, then the auctioneer cleared his throat.
“Goodness,” he said, “well, that was quite something. Don’t forget, she’s the next lot for sale! But to the business in hand, as it were, I’m going to wrap this one up, any more bids?”
There appeared to be another flurry of bidding, because he kept threatening to sell, but didn’t quite get there a few more times, but finally there was the sound of a gavel.
“Sold!” Cried the auctioneer, “Thank you madam, may he bring you many inches of pleasure!”
There was some good natured laughter, and a man and a woman in black stepped up onto the podium and started to free the sold slave. I glanced over at the man by the door, and he motioned me over to him.
Once I was by him, he said, “That was good, you’ve done a lot for your price. Let’s hope your ‘helper’ knows what he’s doing.”
Over on the stage, the man in black led the slave off the opposite side of the stage, and the woman in black finished cleaning up the cum, then beckoned me over.
I walked over, again, tits high, ass tight, to where the previous slave had stood, flashing a cheeky smile at the audience. I noticed there are two outlines of feet, so I stood on them, and she crouched down and wrapped velcro cuffs around my ankles, fastened to floor anchors just behind my feet.
“Squat down.” She ordered.
I complied, and was shocked to see huge close-ups of my spread pussy and ass appear on all the big screens around the auditorium. There was a camera in the floor! I flexed my kegels and watched my pussy twitch on the screens.
I was made to stay in that deliciously humiliating position as the auctioneer began.
“Next we have lot AG475, a female, five feet eight inches, one hundred twenty-five pounds. We’ve already seen that she’s quite talented.” There was a ripple of light laughter. “May I direct your attention to the screens around you, where you’ll see that she has nice full lips, and a pleasing pink colour. You can also see that she’s quite wet from her previous performance.” More laughter. “You’ll see from the history that these areas have had extensive use, but you’ll notice from the test results that they are still in good condition, with very good grip scores, both front and back.
This was now beyond humiliating, and I could feel my face had flushed red.
“Scores for libido are also high, as is her repeated arousal index. She would be very well suited for multiple sequential use.” I tried to parse that last sentence. Oh, he meant ‘whore’.
He continued, “She responds well to pain on the posterior, genitals and nipples.”
The camera zoomed in even closer on my pussy.
“And as you can see from the engorgement of the clitoris, she also responds well to humiliation.”
Dammit, he was right, my cunt was throbbing from all this attention.
Finally he must’ve felt everyone had seen enough close-ups of my wet pussy, for velcro cuffs were strapped around my wrists, then they were pulled up in the air so that I stood up, spreadeagled and completely helpless on display. The big screens now changed to show my face, my bottom, and multiple close-ups of my breasts.
I sensed someone step up onto the podium next to me, and turned my head. There was my new friend Jacob.
“Hey kiddo,” he grinned, “I’m gonna send your price through the roof!”
I smiled, “Shouldn’t be hard – I’m practically gushing down there.”
He stepped behind me, lifted my long hair and kissed my neck. My legs quivered.
In the distance, I could still hear the auctioneer talking about my stamina stats, pussy lubrication, proclivities for multiple penetration, but I tuned him out and revelled in the feeling of Jacobs hands as he ran them up my hips and around my waist to my belly. He pressed himself against my ass, and I could feel he was already getting hard. His hands slid up my body until he was cupping my large, firm breasts. He took my nipples between finger and thumb and squeezed and twisted.
He whispered, “How much pain?”
“Lots,” I whispered back.
He began to pinch and twist, and I moaned in pleasure. Up on the screens I saw a close-up of my nipples getting hard. He pinched me really hard, and I cried out with delicious pain and my body writhed and twisted. The auctioneer had stopped talking.
His cock was now rock hard against my back.
He caressed my nipples a little more gently, then slid his hands down my belly to my pussy. I watched on the screens as he spread me wide open. With his left hand he brushed my clit, and he slipped two fingers of his right into me, then drew them out to show the cameras a string of sticky wetness. He brought it up to my mouth and I eagerly tasted my own arousal.
He began working my clit like I showed him earlier. I thrusted my ass backward into him, and he shifted position so his cock was pushed down between my cheeks.
His other hand came back up to inflict more pain on my nipples and my body began to sway. I pushed back harder – was there any way I could get him inside me? I could hear from his breathing that he really wanted me.
I turned my head as far as I could, “Fuck me!” I hissed urgently.
His hand went behind me to his cock, and he crouched a little to get a better angle. I twisted my hips back as far as I could. I felt the tip pressing against my asshole, but I wanted it in my pussy.
“Wrong hole,” I hissed again, “further forward.”
He moved further forward and thrust, and I felt him slip past my hole and up my lips. He tried again and again. I bet it felt great for him, but it was nothing but frustration for me.
The auctioneer must have seen what was happening, and thought it would help the sale, because he said, “Please lower her arms a little.”
A felt some slack develop in the cords above me, and it allowed me to bend further forward, and finally Jacob was inside me. I sighed with pleasure as he began slowly fucking me. The angle he entered me at meant he was stroking my g-spot hard, but he was too slow both with fucking and working my clit to get me off.
“Faster,” I begged.
“Not yet,” he replied, “they want more action.”
I’d forgotten that he was looking to the stage manager for direction. I looked up at the screens. I saw my flushed face on one, my bouncing boobs on another, and a close up from below of his cock penetrating me over and over. It was so fucking hot – I’ve watched myself fuck on video before, but never live. I’ve fucked with people watching before, but never this many, never on a stage, never when I’m on sale to the highest bidder.
He kept me on the brink like this for at least another agonizing minute, then he obviously got the nod, because his fingers on my clit sped up.
“Oh God, yes, like that!” I groaned, “Don’t change a thing!”
Closer and closer he brought me, his fingers rubbing my clit from both sides, my breaths coming short and fast. I wanted to feel him cum inside me, but I knew he had to save that for his sale. I licked my lips, and could still taste a little cum from the last guy. I thought how being fucked in front of an audience might become my new kink. It might become my future too, depending on who bought me. I imagined being tied up and taken forcefully by one man after another, a never-ending queue stretching into the distance of men who wanted to own my cunt.
That pushed me over the edge. I cried out in ecstasy as a huge orgasm swept out from my clit over my body. My hips bucked, and Jacob’s cock slipped out of me. My knees collapsed, but instead of hanging by my wrists, I felt Jacob’s strong arms support me until I was able to pull it together and stand on my own, still panting.
He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and left me there to return to the wings of the stage. The screens had now changed to show looped video of my face in the throws of orgasm, over and over.
“So, ladies and gentlemen, she would be a fine addition to any establishment. Oh, we have a question? One moment… Yes, madame?”
A smartly-dressed woman near the front of the audience spoke up: “The documentation makes no mention of breast augmentation, but those look too perky to be real.”
The auctioneer spoke again: “Slave, please address the issue. It’s a serious matter if you recorded false information on your admissions paperwork, and may result in additional time.”
“No,” I stammered. I desperately looked around, but I still hadn’t managed to work out where in the room he was. I addressed the woman. “Ma’am, I promise they’re natural!”
“I’d like to check,” she said, “may I?” This was not directed at me – no-one has to ask a slave’s permission for anything.
“Be my guest,” He said, “but please make it quick, we have a lot of merchandise to move today, and this one has already taken more than her allotted time.”
The woman quickly moved to the front and climbed up onto the stage. She came right up close to me, closer than necessary. She was in her fifties, with a hard look to her mouth. I could see her being a tough brothel-madam. I could smell her expensive perfume – I’d bought myself that same fragrance before. She reached out both hands and grabbed my tits roughly. She squeezed and twisted, and pressed her fingers hard into the underside of each breast. I squealed in pain and tried to pull away, but my restraints held me firm.
“Well?” Asked the auctioneer.
“They appear to be in order,” she said grudgingly. She stepped back down, but not before giving my left nipple a cruel tweak, as if to punish me for daring to prove her wrong.
Somehow, having the quality of my tits questioned was the most humiliating thing that had happened to me that day.
“Very well, let the file be updated to show that this slave has verified natural breasts. Now please, let’s complete the bidding.”
Soon it was over, and there was a light ripple of applause – hopefully that meant I sold for a lot. The stagehands lowered my arms and unfastened me, and I was directed off to stage right. Another man in black was standing there, and scanned my wrist ID.
“How much?” I asked.
“It’s up to your purchaser whether to tell you that, now head through that door to shipping.”
‘Shipping’. Wow, they really wanted you to know you were merchandise!
I passed through the door he indicated, and I was in another small office. A woman in a uniform scanned me again and handed me a small package.
“Put this on.”
I unwrapped it, and it turned out to be a simple disposable paper smock. It was really just a long sheet of thin paper with a head-hole, and narrow paper strips joining the front and back at waist level.
I pulled it over my head and put my arms out the sides. It hardly covered anything – it barely reached below my butt-cheeks, and from the side you could still totally see my tits, but it was better than nothing. It was the first time I’d had anything covering me since I was stripped naked in court.
She looked down at the tablet she was holding.
“Hmm. It hasn’t updated with your buyer yet.” She walked over close to me. She reached down and cupped my pussy. I knew enough not to pull away.
“I expect they’ll keep this shaved,” she said, “but I think a nice bush holds a woman’s scent better. Maybe I’ll come visit whichever whorehouse you’re at and see.”
She pulled the waistband of her pants out. “Put your hand in my panties,” she ordered.
I did as she said, and found a furry bush.
“Finger me.”
I slipped my middle finger inside her, she was wet.
“Taste it.”
I pulled my hand out and tasted my middle finger. Her juices were strong, but not unpleasant.
“Remember that taste – I’ll be sitting on your face soon enough.”
She seemed to expect a response.
“Yes ma’am,” I replied.
Just then, her tablet binged.
She glanced down and gave a disappointed grunt. Maybe my brothel wasn’t here in town?
“Alright,” she said, “through that door and bus seven. Remember, the collar knows where you are supposed to be.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I headed outside, and found myself in a large parking lot with a row of buses.
I walked along, looking for number seven.
Each bus, along with the number, had a hand-written sign with the name of a brothel or slave employment agency.
I saw ‘Pink Delight’, ‘Just Blondes’, ‘Open Wide’, ‘Tied ‘n Tested’, ‘Ace in the Hole’, ‘Obedient Domestics’.
A found number seven, but it only had the number, no name. I climbed aboard. There was no driver, but three slaves, all wearing the same paper smocks as me. I sat down opposite a guy I recognised from my sale group.
“Any idea where we’re going?”
“Nope,” he said, “and frankly, that worries me. I’m a trained masseur, so I was hoping to go to one of the big spas.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I was hoping for a high-end place.”
He glanced at me, and I saw him eying my tits through the open side of my smock.
“Yes, that’s where I would expect a girl with your bod to end up – you’re smoking.”
I grinned. “Thanks!”
I glanced down at him. On a guy his size, the smock didn’t cover anything, and his flaccid cock was on full display, resting between his open thighs.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, “maybe some rich bitch bought you for her home spa.”
About ninety minutes passed, and the bus gradually filled up with men and women of all types, then finally a driver climbed on board. He didn’t acknowledge his passengers, and simply closed the doors and drove the bus out of the auction complex, and into the evening traffic.
We drove though dreary suburbs, and finally he stopped outside a seedy-looking strip club.
He stood facing us and looked at his tablet.
“EG427 and DR324, come forward.” He commanded. Two young women stood up and walked to the front of the bus. He scanned their bracelet IDs and led them off the bus. The wind played havoc with their flimsy paper smocks. They tried to protect their modesty, but they simply didn’t have enough hands to cover their boobs, ass and pussy, and an old man passing by got a great view.
They were led into the club, and a few minutes later the driver emerged alone, holding their two slave collars. He stowed them in a plastic tub by his seat, and we drove off again.
The scene repeated, and gradually the bus emptied, stopping at massage parlours, apartment complexes, even a grocery store. The guy beside me was taken off at a really fancy mansion. We wished each other good luck.
There were only three of us left when the driver called my number. We were outside a pretty fancy apartment building in the fashionable end of downtown. As I stepped off the bus the wind ripped at my smock and nearly tore it off, much to the amusement of two guys walking past.
“Hey, fresh meat!” One of them called to the driver, “Which apartment? We might drop by for a visit!”
The driver ignored them and led me up to the building, where a smartly dressed doorman stepped out, closing the door behind him.
“Deliveries go round the back.”
The driver sighed, “Come on man, I don’t have time for this. It’s not like we need the freight lift!”
“Sir,” said the doorman, “merchandise like that certainly needs to go in freight – there’s no way I’d expect my residents to share a lift with a whore.”
“Even though it’s one of your residents that bought the whore?”
The doorman sighed. “Ok, you can come in this way, but you’re still riding freight.” He opened the door and let us in. It was a pretty typical lobby, with a couple of nice couches and a concierge desk. The doorman called over to the concierge. “Hey Harry, make sure this goes freight, ok?”
The concierge nodded, and beckoned us quickly down a hallway beside the lifts and through a door. We were now in a bare concrete space with big rubber swing doors leading out to a loading dock. My feet were cold on the concrete floor.
He turned a key in a lock beside the freight lift, and I heard it begin to rumble. He looked me up and down appreciatively.
“Nice piece, where to?”
“Name of Harrington.” Replied the driver.
The concierge nodded. “Eighth floor. Always have good taste, them. Maybe this year instead of a cash tip, they’ll let us have her for an afternoon!”
The driver laughed, and at that moment the lift opened and he led me in. It smelled bad in here – garbage and stale cigarettes.
He pressed eight, and turned to me. I braced for the groping, but instead he looked me in the eye.
“How’d you get to this?” He asked.
“What, slavery? I got into too much debt.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t end up in a brothel.”
“Actually, that’s kind of what I was expecting. Wouldn’t have been so bad. Total sexual surrender, you know?” I flipped up the front of my smock and flashed him my snatch. “Being used as a mindless sex toy appeals to me.”
He blushed. Luckily, the slow old lift finally opened and we stepped out. It was another dingy freight lobby with a big garbage can and a mop leaning against the wall. We walked through the only door and into a plush hallway. I was thankful to have carpet under my feet again.
He checked his tablet, then led me down the hall to door 803. He checked the tablet again, then punched a code into a little number pad. There was a click and the whirr of a motor, and he pushed the door open.
It seemed to be a large apartment, tastefully furnished in scandanavian style – smooth wood floors, clean lines, modern art on the walls. On a small table lay a thin strip of black fabric. He picked it up.
“I’m to put this on you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s your new slave collar – it’s a really expensive one. You can’t even tell.”
He put it around my throat and it snapped shut.
“I think it’s the newest kind – it has full biometric readings, gps, everything. It can still shock you, I’m afraid.”
“I’d expect nothing less!”
He unlocked and removed the other heavy collar.
“Oh, that’s much better,” I sighed, rubbing my neck. “Now what? There doesn’t seem to be anyone home.”
“No,” he replied, holding up the tablet, “It says to just leave you, they’ll be home late. I guess just make yourself useful, you know, first impressions and all. It says they’ll instruct you on the rules of the house, but the main one all slaves get is don’t make eye contact with your master or mistress, ok?”
I nodded in agreement and smiled at him. “Thanks for being kind to me.”
He blushed a little, then suddenly looked really awkward. “Um, can I ask a favour?”
“Of course, anything.”
“Well, um, can I feel your boobs?” He was embarrassed to look at me while he asked.
I gave a little laugh. “I’m a slave – you don’t have to ask!”
“That wouldn’t feel right to me, even though that’s what you were sentenced to.”
“Well, anyway, you have my permission.” I pulled the sides of the paper across my chest together, revealing my breasts to him.
“God, they’re amazing,” he sighed, reaching out and taking one in each hand. I felt a nice warmth spread across my chest as he gently fondled me, and my nipples stiffened against his palms.
“Would you like to fuck me?” I whispered.
He hesitated. “I can’t – you know, the bus. They monitor how long each delivery takes. I have to go.” He reluctantly let go of me and picked up the tablet and collar.
As he opened the door, I said, “Now can I ask a favour? Will you think of me when you jack off tonight?”
He blushed even deeper.
“Will you promise me?” I pressed on, “I’d really like to know you’re thinking about how nice my tits felt.”
He gave an awkward nod, and quickly left. It was good to know I still had it!
Over the Limit – Part 2 – Slave inspection [Ff][Fm]
Two guards, one man and one woman, were waiting for me in the underground space, and as soon as the lift stopped the man took off my gag (oh, thank God!) and crouched in front of me and removed the dildo, then turned to his companion.
“She’s pretty stinky – better get her cleaned up.”
She nodded, and uncoiled a hose attached to a tap on a nearby concrete pillar. It was one of those car-wash types, with a big reservoir of soap in the handle, and she began spraying me with white foam. It was freezing cold, and I squirmed and wriggled, but she had no trouble covering me from head to toe, then turned the water off as he picked up a long handled brush and began to scrub me. He started at the top, washing my face and neck with the rough bristles, then my back and bottom, then he came around the front and did my tits and belly.
“Make sure you give her skanky crotch a good work over!” laughed the woman, and I squealed in pain as the hard bristles scrubbed my delicate pussy lips.
Once he was satisfied, she hosed me down with clean water, thankfully warm this time, and as she walked around me, she noticed the plug in my behind and yanked it out.
“Here, catch!” she yelled as she tossed it to the male guard. He went to catch it, then ducked, laughing, as he realized what it was, and it clanged harmlessly on the concrete behind him.
“Eww!” he said, “imagine how bad that thing smells!”
She focused the jet of water on my newly-liberated hole, then moved it under me and blasted my vagina. I tried to shriek as the water went up inside me, and she laughed again.
She finally turned the water off and stood contemplating me.
“I wish I had tits like that.”
“Nah,” he said, “your little ones are perfect.”
“You’re sweet,” she replied, “but I bet if you were down her alone with her you’d be feeling her up.”
“Yes,” he smiled, “but I feel them all up, big or small. And don’t give me that look – I’ve seen you stroke a few cocks when you think no-one’s looking.”
She blushed and giggled. “Yes, sometimes,” she conceded, “I like having a little power over a guy who’d never give me a second look. I squeeze their balls just enough to make them panic. It’s funny to see how wide their eyes get. Of course I can’t really damage them – reduces the sale price.”
He nodded knowingly, and scanned some paperwork on the vending machine.
The poles lowered my arms down to waist level and he unshackled my wrists, then quickly cuffed them behind me, while she undid my ankles.
“Alright, slut, in the van,” she ordered.
I climbed in, and she strapped me against the wall like on my trip here, whilst the man got behind the wheel and drove us away.
The interior of this van was lit, and I could see her looking at me intently from her seat opposite me.
Finally, she spoke. “It must be so weird, knowing you’re being sold in a couple of hours. I bet you’ll go to a brothel. By law they’re allowed six customers per girl per day, so what’s that over six years? That’s a hell of a lot of cock you’ll be taking!”
I sat in silence and imagined it. I was supposed to dread the thought, but the truth is, it made my pussy juicy. I suspected it did hers too.
“Of course, if you’re lucky some rich fuck will buy you for his yacht harem. I hear that lot trade girls amongst themselves like pokemon cards. Or maybe a pair of butch lezzers will buy you and sit their furry twats on your face for the next six years!” This last thought really tickled her, and she laughed uproariously.
A few minutes later, the van slowed, then backed up. She opened the doors and led me out into a small courtyard. Another guard was waiting for me with a slave collar. I was wondering when I’d get mine. As he snapped the hard black plastic ring around my neck, he asked, “Slave, do you know what this collar is?”
I nodded. “Yes sir.”
“If you try to escape it will shock you. If you’re too slow following a command, any guard can shock you, understand?”
I nodded again.
He uncuffed me, and I was finally able to rub my sore wrists, but then he took hold of one and fastened a plastic wrist band around it, like the type they use in hospitals. He scanned the barcode on it with a hand-held scanner, then scanned the paperwork the female guard was holding.
“Name?” he asked me.
“Jennifer Simons, sir.”
He gave her a nod.
“Thanks, she’s all in the system now.”
She nodded back, then got in the cab of the van and they drove off, leaving me with my new captor. Other vans were arriving and depositing new slaves, all naked like myself. Each got the same treatment – collared, tagged, scanned.
My guard pointed to a door in the nearby wall marked “Female Slave Processing”.
“Through there,” he said, unnecessarily, and I walked through it into my new life.
It was a small room, like a police booking room, complete with the striped height chart along one wall. The opposite wall to that one was glass, on the other side of which I could see people milling around in an area a bit like the concourse at a sports stadium. There was even a hotdog stand visible in the distance. There were big tv screens on the walls of the room, and the wall opposite me had another door just like the one I came in through. In one corner of the room was a beaten up looking medical examination table, and in the opposite, by the window, sat a heavy woman, about fifty, in an ill-fitting prison-guard style uniform. She stood up with a sigh.
Beyond the glass, people had noticed some activity in here, and a few gathered to watch – some couples, a group of young men, a few professional looking types making notes – I knew these were slave brokers, probably acting on behalf of wealthy individuals who thought the actual process of buying a slave beneath them.
She picked up a large camera from under her chair. “Stand against the lines,” she orders
I stood against the wall, mug-shot style. The collar felt heavy on my neck.
FLASH. “Arms up”. FLASH. “Arms down, turn to your left.” FLASH. “And your right.” FLASH. “Turn your back to me.” FLASH.
The flashes had drawn more attention to the window, and my body had kept them there. I’m blessed with a fine figure and large, perky breasts which I usually like to show off, but instinct made me cover my tits and crotch with my hands.
“Hands away!” She ordered, “Those are potential buyers – you should be happy they’re interested. Now up on the table.”
I sat on the exam table. She pulled out the stirrups and roughly grabbed my feet and jammed them in.
“Scoot right down.”
I reluctantly slid my bottom down to the very edge of the table, and my legs spread wide. The window was crowded now, people craning their necks to get a view of my spread cunt. This was so humiliating, even more so than this morning.
She crouched between my legs. FLASH. “Spread your labia.” FLASH. “Now your cheeks.” FLASH. She leaned in and got a closeup of each nipple. FLASH. FLASH.
“Now I’m going to search you for contraband.”
I was confused, I was naked already. She pulled on rubber gloves. Oh.
“Open your mouth.”
She felt around my mouth, pulling my lips out and running the foul-tasting rubber over my gums. Then she carefully checked my scalp, running her fingers all the way down the length of my long dark hair.
Then she stepped between my legs. I noticed she was carefully not to block the view from the window as she pushed two fingers up into my vagina and felt around, then pushed a single digit up my bottom. Satisfied, she pulled off the gloves and tossed them in a small trash can by the door.
“Up.”
Relieved, I lifted my legs out of the stirrups and got to my feet.
She was beginning to point me toward the door, when there was a tap at the window. She looked over. A man behind the glass was beckoning her towards him. No, not her, me.
“Go over there,” she said, “do what he tells you. Remember, you need to sell for at least what you owe, otherwise you might get another enslavement.”
I walked over to the window, which was now crowded, dozens of people staring at my naked body. I felt a familiar tingle in my cunt. I glanced up at the screens on the walls; they were displaying the photo, huge, that she took of my fingers spreading my shaved cunt-lips.
The man who beckoned me was standing in the middle. He gave the universal ‘give me a twirl’ sign. I turned around slowly until I was facing him again. I wiggled my bottom a little as I turned. He gave a satisfied nod. Then he pointed at my chest and made a twisting motion.
I hesitated, unsure what he meant.
“He wants to see your nipples hard.”
I took my sore nipples between finger and thumb and began rubbing. I gave them a good twist and tug until they were rock hard, then let my hands fall to my side. I bounced on the balls of my feet a little to make my tits jiggle. He beckoned me closer, closer, closer, until my breasts were pressed against the cold glass. He nodded, but then turned and moved away through the crowd, which quickly filled his space. People were taking photos. I remained in place, wondering what to do. Didn’t he like me? I took a step back from the cold glass.
A smartly-dressed woman behind the glass makes a complicated gesture to the guard.
“She wants to see your pink close up. Turn and bend over and spread your lips for her, as close to the glass as you can.”
I did as she said, bending all the way over and putting my hands up between my legs and spreading myself wide. This was somehow much more humiliating than being on display in Humiliation Square. Maybe because I was doing the displaying, trying to please her, rather than just being helplessly restrained.
Standing in that shameful position, looking back between my legs, I saw the woman crouch down and take some closeups of my pussy.
When she was done and stood up, I did too, and turned back to the crowd. I looked them over, some looked like they could afford a slave, but most looked like ordinary people, just out for a day’s entertainment, ogling naked slaves, like I used to do with my friends. It was kind of like a day out at the zoo.
The woman was typing on her phone, maybe sending someone the photos of my pink? When she looked up at me again, I raised my arms above my head and let my tits sway from side to side, hoping to please her. Maybe she was a scout for a high-end brothel, messaging a buyer.
The crowd was growing, more people gathering at the back, craning their necks for a view of my naked body. Phones were held high to get a better shot.
A young man gestured that I should push a finger up inside myself. I was about to comply when the guard shut it down.
“Get back over here, slave, and take the test.”
I turned back to her, and she handed me a clear plastic cup. “What test?”
She gave me an ‘are you stupid?’ look.
“The pregnancy test, dummy. Now hurry up and pee in the cup.”
I was horrified. Even though a whole crowd had seen me piss myself uncontrollably earlier today, this setting felt much more intrusive and shameful.
“Please,” I begged, “Can’t I at least do this part in private?”
She held up a remote control. “I can always activate your collar and then dip the stick when you’re writhing in pain on the floor in a pool of piss,” she said. “Your choice.”
I realized she wasn’t kidding, so I began to squat.
“No, over by the window – they like to see this part.”
Oh God, this just got worse and worse
Reluctantly, I walked over to the window. I squatted down, using one hand on the glass to steady myself, and pressed the cup up against my pussy. There are dozens of phones now, crowding the space in front of me. I hung my head in shame and tried to relax enough to start the flow. It was an effort, but finally I let go first a trickle, then a hot stream of piss into the cup. I stood up, and the guard handed me a pregnancy test stick. “Dip it in, then hold it to the glass so they can verify the result.”
It was the longest three minutes of my life, standing there naked in front of dozens of strangers, holding a cup of my own steaming pee, waiting to show them the status of my uterus.
The test finally showed negative.
“Good,” said the guard, “You’re done here, move on to the waiting room. Toss those on your way.”
Through the door was indeed a large waiting room. Opposite me there was a small receptionist-style window. On either side of the windows there was a door, one labeled “1”, the other “2”. There were about two dozen chairs around the walls, and about half of them were occupied by naked women wearing slave collars. I took a seat. None of the others even looked up at me.
After about ten minutes, the glass window slid open, and a dumpy middle-aged woman leaned out, scowling. She pointed, seemingly at random, at two women.
“You, door one, you, door two.” She ordered in a bored voice, and slid her window closed.
The two chosen women quickly got up and went through their designated doors. We craned our necks to see if we could hear anything from behind the doors, but there was nothing.
About every fifteen minutes, another two girls were called through the doors, and eventually I was directed through door two.
A male nurse dressed in scrubs was waiting for me. He looked me up and down and grinned.
“I bet you’ll fetch a pretty penny,” he said, “follow me.”
He led me down the hall, then to the right into a typical medical exam room. He had me stand on the scales (125 pounds), measured my height (5 ft 8) and took my blood pressure (110 over 70). Then he picked up a tape measure.
“Arms up.”
He took my measurements, having a good feel of my breasts as he did so. (36,25,34.)
Next he led me across the hall into a larger room. There was a table in the middle, loaded up with complicated-looking electronic equipment. On the side facing the controls was a simple office chair, but on the other was a much scarier looking chair. It had the feel of an old-fashioned electric chair, wooden, with a high back and solid arm rests with leather straps. Of course he directed me to that chair. As I sat, I noticed a large hole in the seat, and I hoped that meant I won’t be there long enough to have to piss through the hole into a bucket. He directed me to sit up straight, and strapped my arms securely to the armrests. My instinct was to resist, but of course it would be futile with the shock collar around my neck.
He knelt and fastened my ankles to the chair legs with more leather straps, then went behind me and threaded a strap through the back of my shock collar so that I was completely immobilized.
Next he began fiddling with the equipment on the desk. He unspooled some wires with round flat disks on the ends, and spread some cream on the underside of the disks. He began sticking them to various parts of my naked body – one above my right breast, one on the inside of each wrist, one on each temple and one on each side of my ribcage. To put those last two on, he lifted my breasts, which was totally unnecessary given how perky they were, and was obviously just another excuse to fondle my tits. I wondered why he felt he needed an excuse – I was completely at his mercy, after all. Lastly he pulled out two wicked-looking clamps on wires. He grabbed each of my nipples and rubbed until they were erect, then put the painful clamps on them. God, my poor nipples were really being put through the wringer today!
He lent in close to my face.
“Too bad we’re so busy today,” he said with an evil grin, “otherwise I would have liked to give you a quick pelvic exam.”
He slid his hand up my naked thigh until he was touching my mound, then pressed a finger downwards between my legs. Here we go, I thought.
“Open wide, or I press the button,” he snarled. I opened my legs as far as the restraints allowed and soon I felt his middle finger pressing on my clit. I resented the power he had over me, and yet still my body reacted to the pressure. As he began a circling motion, I felt my face flushing and my breaths quickening.
“I don’t think you should be doing this,” I muttered.
“You have no right to think, slave, you’re just property, and the sooner you realize that, the better it will be for you.”
The finger moved down between my lips.
“Wow, you’re really wet,” he grinned, “you really like strange men fingering you.”
“No,” I lied.
He pushed the finger inside me, then smeared the growing wetness up over my clit. I was completely helpless, in his power. He could do anything he wanted with me. My whole body was tingling.
“Tell me you like it,” he whispered into my ear, “Tell me you want more, tell me you want me in your cunt.”
“I like it,” I moaned, “I want more, I want your cock in my cunt.”
His finger speeded up on my clit, and I was getting close already.
“Tell me what else you want me to do.”
“I want you to bend me over the table and cum inside me.” I whispered, alternate waves of sexual excitement and shame washing over me.
His other hand was in his pants now, masturbating furiously while he continued to rub my clit.
“Make me come,” I begged, “Please!”
Suddenly, with a loud groan he came in his pants. He pulled his sticky hand out and put it up to my mouth, and without having to be told, I licked his fingers clean.
“Please finish me,” I pleaded.
But now that he’d shot his load, he was all business-like again.
“Your inspector will be here soon.” He said, and briskly left the room, leaving me restrained, wired up, and panting in frustration.
About fifteen minutes passed. I regained my composure, and tried to make out what the devices on the desk were. There was a computer with the screen facing away from me, the control box for the sensors attached to me, another, smaller box with just two dials, and a virtual reality headset. On the left-hand corner of the desk was a large red button.
The door opened, and a tall, blonde, pretty woman in her mid thirties to early forties walked in. She was wearing a smart business suit, sensible shoes, below-the-knee skirt. She looked for all the world like she was attending a job interview, not here to inspect a naked slave girl strapped to a chair.
She sat down and began typing at the computer, never once having wasted a glance on me. I sat in silence.
After a few minutes, she finally looked up at me.
“You will call me ma’am, understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” I replied.
“Good,” she smiled, “I’m here to do your slave inspection before your auction. I’ll be taking a medical and sexual history, as well as running some response tests. Those sensors strapped to you are part of a lie detector. If you lie to me, I’ll press this red button, understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” I replied again.
“Good. Let’s start with medical. Do you take any medication?
“No ma’am.”
“What about birth control?”
“I have a subdermal implant, ma’am. It has about six years left.”
“Any surgeries?”
“Just appendix removed when I was eleven.”
“Broken bones?”
“Left wrist when I was fifteen.”
“Are your breasts natural?”
“Yes ma’am.” I said proudly.
“When was your last period?
“Ended about five days ago, ma’am.”
“Tampons or pads?”
“Tampons, ma’am.”
“Good, now sexual history. Remember to be one hundred percent truthful.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How old were you when you first had sex?”
“Nineteen, ma’am.” With each answer, she typed.
“How many sexual partners have you had?”
“About one hundred fifty, give or take.”
At this she looked up again.
“Seriously, what are you, twenty-five?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Bit of a slut, huh?”
“I guess so, ma’am. I was raised by nuns, so I really let go when I got out.”
“I suspect I’ll need to access the extended question pack,” She said, using the computer mouse.
“Let’s see…” she said, squinting at the screen, “I haven’t seen most of these questions before, my, my, they’re very explicit! Of approximately what proportion of your lovers did you know their name?
“About half, ma’am.”
“Have you ever been with a woman?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“You like to perform oral sex on women?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Have you ever worn a strap-on dildo?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Ever had one used on you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She looked at me quizzically.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s ok, not as good as a cock.”
She nodded and went back to the questions.
“Most sexual partners within a twenty-four hour period?”
“About eight.”
“Within a four-hour period?”
“Same.”
She looked up again.
“An orgy?”
“I suppose you could call it that, ma’am. I got drunk with the football team and a few of my friends, and we all fucked each other.”
She got back to the questions.
“I’m guessing this one is a yes: have you ever had anal sex?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Some of the time.”
She squinted at the screen again, and I guessed more questions appeared as I answered positively to the ones she asked.
“Have you ever had a penis in your mouth directly after it has been in your anus? Eww!”
“Yes ma’am.”
Again she looked up.
“Really, isn’t that kind of disgusting?”
“The idea of it is, yes, but in the heat of the moment it can be really sexy.” I said, then quickly added: “ma’am.”
She shuddered.
“What is the maximum number of penises you’ve had inside you at the same time?”
“Three, ma’am.”
She looked up again.
“You mean one in each… and the mouth?” She looked faintly disgusted.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Voluntarily?”
“Yes ma’am, it felt really good.”
“Hmm.” She continued with the questions, now wrinkling her nose.
“Have you ever performed cunnilingus on a woman when she had semen inside her?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Imagine my surprise,” she muttered.
She kept looking at the questions.
“Do you enjoy receiving pain as part of sexual activity?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you enjoy inflicting pain as part of sexual activity?”
“Sometimes, ma’am.”
“On what parts of your body do you enjoy pain?”
I thought for a moment, “My nipples, bottom and pussy lips, ma’am,” I replied, “I also like to have my hair pulled.”
She typed more.
“Have you ever had someone urinate on you as part of sexual activity?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you ever urinated on someone as part of sexual activity?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She gave me a long, searching look.
“Do you ever feel shame for all these things you’ve done?”
I considered.
“I did the first time a let a guy fuck my ass, but I enjoyed it, so I soon got over it. No-one ever asks men if they’re ashamed of having lots of sex.”
“True,” she nodded. “Ok, that’s the questions over, now the response section.”
She indicated the box with two dials.
“As I turn these knobs, two probes will be inserted into you. Don’t be alarmed.”
I was. She slowly turned the left dial, and I felt something pushing against my vagina. I wriggled my bottom to get into the right position.
“Just relax and let it in, or else it’ll hurt.”
The probe pushed past my pussy lips and into me. She kept turning, and it pushed further in.
“That’s five inches,” she said, “The max is nine, think you can take that?”
“I don’t know, ma’am, I don’t know if I’ve ever taken one that big…”
She turned more, and I finally yelped when it hit my cervix.
She stopped, and dialed it back slightly.
“Eight point five,” she said, “you’ll be very popular.”
She put her hand on the other dial and began to turn, and I quickly felt pressure on my other hole.
“Relax,” she said, “it’s well lubed, and it’s not like your hole is a virgin!”
I tried to relax my pucker, but it hurt as the probe pushed harder and harder, but it finally got past my sphincter, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Have you ever been in this chair?” I asked.
Her voice hardened.
“Don’t take my kindness so far as a sign that you can be impertinent!”
Her hand hovered over the red button.
“I’m sorry, ma’am!” I spluttered, “Please don’t!”
She smiled indulgently and moved her hand away from the button.
“Fun fact – this button doesn’t control the collar, it controls the probes inside you, and I’m told it’s even more painful that the collar.”
I shuddered, and clenched tight.
She laughed, and waved toward the monitor.
“I can see here how hard you clenched – pretty impressive!”
She spent more time examining readings on her screen, then looked up at me.
“This can’t be right – it says your vagina is currently well lubricated… Surely those questions didn’t turn you on, did they?”
“No ma’am,” I replied, “but the guy who brought me in, well he groped me quite a bit.”
“You mean the orderly who brought you in here and strapped you down against your will, molested you, and you LIKED it?”
I blushed.
“Well,” I stammered, “it’s complicated, I can’t just turn off my body, and I’ve sometimes had fantasies…” I trailed off.
“Good grief!” she exclaimed, “You really are a wanton little slut! I half believe you’d even like it if I pushed this button!”
She placed a finger firmly on the red button.
“No, please!” I begged, trying to push the probe out of my cunt, “I know I’m a filthy slut, and I promise I’ll try to be better, please!”
“Well, ok,” she relented, “let’s get on with the response tests.”
She stood and came over to me. She lifted the VR headset off the table, put it on my head and adjusted the straps and the headphones.
“Can you see the cross in the centre of your view clearly?” She asked.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good. The system will now show you a series of images and videos and measure your physical responses so we can categorize you for sale,” then she laughed and added, “as if we didn’t already know you’re destined to be a whore!”
The screen went completely black.
There was silence, then gradually I heard the sound of a couple having sex. He was grunting as he fucked her, and she gasped with each stroke. It gradually became more intense, and it became obvious that they are heading towards a simultaneous orgasm. Her gasps became more urgent and higher in pitch. In the dark, I imagined her face, contorted in ecstasy as she tipped over the edge into her orgasm, then it suddenly stopped. I caught myself giving a little grunt of disappointment, and wondered if my inspector noted it.
Another sound of sex started, again a guy grunting, but this time it was obvious to me that the woman wasn’t into it, she was faking it in the hope that he would finish sooner. Right before he came, the audio cut out again.
Now the screen lit up. It was the first sex scene again, but with video. As the couple approached their climax, the camera slowly zoomed in on the woman’s face, contorted just as I’d imagined. I felt my pussy twitching in sympathy with hers, and I knew my inspector was watching the readings on a chart.
Again, the scene cut out before they came. Then the second scene played out on video, with the woman faking it. This time I felt nothing in my pussy.
The screen went black, then suddenly, right in front of me, in full 3D was a big, hard cock. It seemed like it was just inches from my face. A man’s hand was stroking it vigorously. The cock began to twitch, and squirted cum directly at my eyes. I blinked and flinched.
The scene switched to a spread pussy, perfectly waxed, again inches from my face. It was quite beautiful, with delicate pink lips and an engorged clitoris. As I watched, it pulsed, and a stream of sticky white cum poured out of it. Again, I felt my pussy flex in sympathy.
There followed several scenes of women being fucked doggy-style, but unlike the first one these were in 3D. Sometimes the camera focused on the woman’s face, and sometimes it was an extreme close-up of the cock slamming into her cunt, her juicy lips sliding up and down the glistening shaft. I’d never watched porn in 3D – this was great!
Next up was a woman licking a pussy. The face and the pussy were both gorgeous, and she was clearly an expert. She gently licked up and down the lips, then pushed her tongue inside. She smeared the mixture of vaginal juices and saliva up to the clit, then ran her tongue around it slowly. She drew it into her mouth and I could see from her cheeks that she was sucking it. My own clit tingled at the thought of what it must feel like.
The scene faded, and a new one appeared, again in 3D. I was looking down at a man’s body, from his point of view. The view was down over his chest and stomach to his cock, which lay flaccid on his belly. It seemed he was laying back in an armchair in a luxuriously furnished room. A door on the far side of the room opened and a beautiful blonde walked in. She was wearing a silk robe and high heels. As she approached, she dropped the robe to reveal ivory silk matching bra and panties. She walked all the way over to the man, and climbed up onto the armchair, straddling him. She leaned forward and ran her hand over his chest. She kissed his chest, then slowly slid down to her knees. She maintained eye contact with him/me as she slowly removed her bra to reveal obviously enhanced breasts. She leaned forward so that they enveloped his cock, which had grown considerably. She used her hands to press her tits around him, and moved up and down to stroke it with them. Then she slid further down and took the tip in between her lips. She ran her tongue around it, and pressed it a little into the hole in the tip, then suddenly took him all the way down her throat.
The screen went black.
When it faded back up, it was again from a person’s point of view, but this time it was my actual position. It was a woman sitting strapped into the exact chair I was in. Her tits were smaller than mine, but other than that, it could be me. A naked man approached her around the table, his erection swinging in front of him. He stood in front of her/me so his cock was almost at eye level. He stroked it, and squeezed out a drop of precum. Then he knelt in front of her/me, and as he slid his hands behind her knees, I felt someone do the same to me. Then the probes in my pussy and ass slowly withdrew, and the hands pulled me forward in the seat, and the same happened in the video. The collar was tight around my neck, but it’s strap slid down the back up the chair enough to accommodate my movement. My butt was now at the very edge of the wooden seat, causing my ankles to strain painfully against the leather straps. The man looked up at her/me and smiled, then he gently parted her knees, and I felt mine pushed apart. I didn’t try to resist. He leaned forward and kissed her belly. He had stubble on his chin, but the person kissing me in the real world didn’t. He drew back and kissed her on the right thigh, but the person kissing me did it on my left. Both he and my person moved up the thigh, pushing the knees as far apart as they would go with the ankles still strapped. The combination of the visual and real world was beginning to confuse me, so I closed my eyes and focused on what was really happening. Hands slid up my inner thighs until the thumbs brushed my pussy lips. They pressed between them and spread me open. I felt warm breath on my exposed pinkness, and a finger ran down my slit and slid inside me. I felt myself moan softly as the finger stroked my inside, working its way around until it was pressed up against my g-spot. Another finger from the same hand joined it, and began softly stroking. The other hand slid up my belly, up my ribs to my right breast. It gently squeezed me, then yanked the sensor off my tit. Fingers gripped my nipple and began to squeeze and twist it until it was firm.
“Harder,” I whispered involuntarily, and the fingers pinched and tugged until I cried out, “Yes!”
The hand moved to the other breast and pulled off the sensor and pinched it just as hard. I began to moan softly – nipple play had always been my weakness.
Meanwhile, down below, the fingers inside me continued their delicious work, and now a tongue began to stroke up and down my slit. I risked a glance at the video. The man was doing the same to her, licking her, fingering and pinching her nipples. I realized she was moaning loudly, and then that I was too. I closed my eyes, but continued to focus on her moaning as the tongue between my legs narrowed in on my clit. It licked me round and round a few times, then my clit was pulled into the mouth and was sucked firmly. I cried out in delight, and then the woman in the video did too. I knew she wasn’t faking it any more than I was. The hand on my tits moved back and forth, pinching and tugging hard, inflicting delicious agony on my already inflamed teats, as the mouth sucked my clit in deep, and the tongue flicked it. Inside, the fingers began to fuck me hard. My legs began to quiver. The video woman and myself were heading to the same massive orgasm. She began to pant in my ears, and I felt myself doing the same.
The fingers inside me were a blur, and my clit was throbbing. I felt myself approaching that magical point. My left breast was squeezed hard, then the nipple was pulled so hard I thought it might tear off, and I screamed as the orgasm slammed through my body. In my ears my other version howled in ecstasy. Coloured lights filled my vision, and my head thrashed from side to side against the constraining collar. I opened my eyes. Her body was bucking up and down with the man’s face pressed hard into her pussy.
As I came down from the orgasm, he looked up, his face slick with pussy juices and grinned at us. Our chests were heaving, her nipples were bright red from the pain. Her clit was visible, and I swear I saw it throbbing.
He leaned back, and pushed her by the knees back into an upright position, and someone did the same to me. As I reached full upright, the probes were pushed unceremoniously back up into me, first into my ass, then my pussy, almost making me come again.
My head was spinning. The man in the video licked his lips, then blew me a kiss and faded to black.
I sat there breathing heavily, watching the black to see if there was more to come. Once my body had settled back down to normal, I heard footsteps, and the VR headset was pulled off my head. My inspector placed it on the desk and walked back to her seat. Nothing about her indicated that it was her who had just gone down on me, her hair and clothing still looked the same, her lipstick was still fresh (maybe too fresh?), but it must’ve been, right?
A Devil’s Threesome [FMM]
I’d been on a couple of blind dates, but never a blind double-date, but Linda’s friend told her these two guys were pretty cool, so we thought “what the heck?”
I dressed for a typical Saturday night out – sexy but practical. A skirt that showed off my ass, but I could still dance in, heels I could wear all night without hobbling me, and a tight top with plenty of cleavage showing.
I arrived at the bar a fashionable 15 minutes late, got my ID checked, and headed inside. It was a nice enough place, clean and with a comfortable vibe. I could imagine coming here again. I looked around for Linda, but when I didn’t see her I started to try to work out which guys we were meeting. The only description I had was “cute”, so that wasn’t helpful. I walked around eyeing any table that had just two guys. Eventually a nice-looking African-American guy with a shaved head caught my eye. He gave me a questioning look.
I headed over to him. His friend was white with a nice head of dark brown hair. They both stood up, which I thought was a good start.
“Hi, are you guys waiting for Linda and Annie?” I asked, smiling, “because if you are, I’m half of them.”
The white guy grinned. “Yes, I’m Kyle, this is George.”
George pulled out a chair for me, and we all sat down.
The waitress had already noticed me sitting down, and quickly came to get my drink order.
“I’ll have one of these,” I said, nodding towards the beers the guys were drinking.
“And another for each of us, please,” added George.
Once she left, George turned to me and asked, “so which half?”
“Huh?” I replied, dumb.
“You said you were half of Linda and Annie,” interjected Kyle, “but you didn’t say which half,” finished George.
I laughed, “Oh God, sorry – I’m Annie! Nice to meet you.” I gave a mock courtsey in my seat.
“So are you always the less late one?” asked George, smiling.
I laughed. “That’s a pretty good way of putting it. Sorry!”
“No problem,” smiled George, “you’re worth waiting for.”
I blushed a little. “Wow,” I said, “you’re quite the smoothie!”
“Only the top of his head!” laughed Kyle, and George and I both chuckled.
“But yes, it’s usually me waiting for Linda, not the other way around.”
Just then my phone buzzed: “Sorry Babe, not feeling well, can’t come.”
“Dammit!” I exclaimed, “I’m sorry guys, Linda’s sick – she’s not coming.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” said George. They quickly exchanged glances. “Will you still hang out with us? We could still have fun.”
“I’d love to,” I said, “but if you guys want to, uh, go hunting for, well, I dunno, like twins or something’” I trailed off.
Kyle laughed. “Not really our style. Stay with us – I bet we can still have a great time.”
I nodded. “I’d really like that,” I smiled.
It was a really nice evening – we drank, we laughed, we told stupid jokes, we flirted a lot, we played darts and billiards, and before we knew it, it was late, and a rougher crowd started to fill the bar. A weird-looking man in the corner was eyeing me and starting to creep me out, but I didn’t want to drag George or Kyle into any trouble – I didn’t know how they’d react if I told them about him, so I just let them know I was ready to leave.
“No problem,” said George, then he paused. “We, um, we have a foosball table back at our place – no pressure, if you’d like to carry on the evening.”
I definitely should have said “no thanks.” It would have been the sensible thing to do.
“Sounds good,” I said.
Twenty minutes later, we piled out of an Uber at a smart-looking apartment complex, and Kyle led the way up to their third floor apartment.
In the living room, there was indeed a foosball table.
“See?” said Kyle, “it wasn’t just a ruse to get you back here.”
I intercepted George giving him a “what the fuck, dude?” look, but I patted him on the arm.
“Don’t worry, if I had got even the slightest creepy vibe off either of you, I wouldn’t be here. Now, who’s pouring the drinks?”
While Kyle went into the kitchen, George showed me around, although that just involved saying “well, this is it, apart from our rooms.”
“This is surprisingly tidy for a guys’ place – which of your moms comes over every week?”
George chuckled, embarrassed, “umm, actually, mine does, yeah.”
“Well,” I laughed, “at least you’re a little bit ashamed of that!”
“Yes,” said Kyle, bringing the drinks, “we’ve actually decided that needs to stop. We need to start keeping it clean ourselves, but George’s mom can’t imagine her little boy being able to manage without her!”
“Dude, enough!” laughed George.
They taught me how to play foosball, and let me win a few games, which was very gentlemanly of them, then, after a couple more drinks, we all ended up on the couch, me in the middle.
We sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the light buzz we had, then Kyle quietly asked, “so, Annie, since this was originally going to be a double-date, we were wondering which of us you would’ve picked to be your date if Linda had showed up.”
George leaned over and glared at him, “You asshole, you can’t ask her that! That’s not fair! Don’t say, Annie, you don’t have to say!”
“Oh, shut up!” I laughed.
There was silence for a few moments, then I said, “actually, I’ve been wondering that since I first got to the bar, even before we knew Linda wasn’t coming.”
More silence.
“And?” asked George, eventually, “and Kyle, before you say anything, I know I’m the asshole now.”
I chuckled, “I actually still don’t know. You’re just both so damn cute and sexy.”
I put my hands out and laid them on their knees.
“I can’t choose. You guys will have to.”
There was a really, really long silence as they absorbed what I was saying.
Finally, George spoke: “Annie, me and Kyle have been friends forever, and we always swore we’d never let anything like this get between us, so I think it has to be neither of us.”
Another long silence. It felt like we’d all sobered up really quickly.
I whispered, “So could I have both of you?”
“What do you mean?” asked Kyle, “like we toss a coin and you go in one bedroom, then into the other?”
“Actually,” I whispered, even more quietly, “I was thinking both at the same time.”
“You mean like a threesome?” Asked George, quietly.
“A devil’s threesome?” Asked Kyle.
I cracked up. “Is that what men call that?” I laughed, “That’s hilarious! But yes, that’s what I was thinking. You each man enough to watch your buddy get his dick sucked?”
I still can’t believe I said that – guess I hadn’t sobered up as much as I thought!
“I’m up for that!” exclaimed George.
“Hell yeah!” Added Kyle.
I got up from the couch, and turned to face them. I realized there was a tingling in my panties already.
“Since there’s two of you, and only one of me, for every item of clothing I remove, you each have to take off two, ok?”
“That doesn’t make se-” started Kyle, but George quickly cut him off with: “Dude, shut up!”
They both nodded.
We already had some music playing, so I did my best version of a stripper dance for them, wiggling my ass at them, and pushing my boobs together. I thought it was pretty funny, but they were both totally transfixed, so I started taking it more seriously, silkily stroking my hands up and down my hips, and down my thighs, then hitching up my skirt until they could just see my panties.
I took one shoe off, and tossed it aside. Quickly, they each tore off their socks.
I cast off the other shoe, and they each pulled off their shirts and then pants, so they were both sitting on the couch in their boxers. They were both in good shape – not full six-pack, but still really nice. And I was pleased to see significant bulges in their boxers. Kyle shyly tried to hide his, but George sat with his arms confidently resting on the back of the couch.
“You know, Kyle was right about the amount of clothes,” he laughed.
“Ok,” I said, I’ll do two for your last one.“
I gave a few more sexy wiggles, then pulled my top off, revealing my white, lacy half-cup bra, with my boobs almost spilling out. As I began to unsnap the clasp on my skirt, I noticed the bulges had gotten bigger, and Kyle had given up trying to hide his.
I turned my back on them as I dropped the skirt, so they could see the thin fabric of my thong disappearing down between my tight ass-cheeks.
“Well?” I said, turning to them again, my hand on my hips.
They suddenly both got very shy, of me, or each other I don’t know, but they quickly realized that they weren’t seeing any more of me without revealing all of themselves, so they reluctantly pulled off their boxers and threw them aside.
So there I was, in my bra and thong, standing in full command of two hot, naked guys with erections.
I danced some more, slowly, stroking my breasts and ass, and pulling my panties up tight so they could see the outlines of my pussy lips, and I wondered if they could see the damp patch developing. Then I turned and bent over for them to show off my cute ass. I spread my legs wide, knowing the thin string wasn’t hiding my asshole from their hungry eyes.
I stepped forward and knelt on the couch between them. I leaned over and kissed first George, then Kyle full on the mouth.
I put my hands each on one of their cheeks, then slowly began to slide them down their bodies, lingering on their chests, stroking the hair and gently toying with their nipples.
“I’ve often had fantasies about something like this,” I murmured, “Sometimes when I’m fingering myself, I imagine two guys sucking my nipples at the same time, or sucking a cock while getting fucked.”
I slid my hands down their bellies, and felt them both tense up in anticipation as my hands moved toward their cocks.
Then I suddenly lifted my hands away, then turned myself half around on my knees.
“Kyle?” I asked in my silkiest voice, “Will you undo my bra?”
That man did NOT need to be asked twice, and in what seemed like a fraction of a second it was done.
I held the cups in place as I turned back to the boys, and then slowly, oh ever so slowly, I revealed my firm, perky tits to them. Their mouths hung open, and I swear it was all George could do not to drool.
I threw the bra behind the couch, then began slowly caressing my breasts, tweaking and twisting the nipples until they were rock hard. I slid one hand down into my panties, and pushed a finger deep inside myself, then smeared my juices on my hard nipples, then I grabbed the guys heads and pulled them in to my chest. I’ll never forget that first feeling of two guys sucking my nipples, so hungry and eager. Soon their hands were all over me too, caressing my buttocks and thighs, then, as if in concert, moving up to stroke and squeeze my tits, until I was moaning in pleasure.
I let my hands continue their earlier journey down their bodies, until I had a rock hard cock in each hand. This felt so much better that I’d imagined in my fantasies!
They were both wet with precum, and I smeared it up and down their lengths, making both cocks twitch and their owners groan into my titties as they continued to suck and tease my nipples.
Kyle’s hand began to work its way under the waistband of my panties, then forward, slowly inching toward my pussy, but I wasn’t ready for that yet – I wanted to explore their cocks.
I slid down off the couch so I was kneeling in front of them, then leaned over and took George’s cock in my mouth. I cupped his balls in my hand and gently massaged them, rolling them between my fingers, whilst at the same time massaging his taint.
I kept on stroking Kyle’s cock up and down while my lips and tongue explored the head of George’s. It swelled up even more, and I could taste plenty of precum oozing out of the tip.
After a few more strokes I switched over to Kyle. His was about the same size as George’s, only slightly more curved upward. He groaned with pleasure as I sucked hard and squeezed his balls gently. He tasted slightly more salty than George.
I kept on sucking and stroking, switching over whenever I thought the guy I was blowing was getting too close to cumming, and they both moaned and groaned in ecstasy, until finally George pulled me off his cock.
“This is incredible,” he said, but I can’t wait anymore to get at what’s in those sexy panties!“
He took me under the armpits and lifted me up onto the couch, then turned me onto my back, my head resting on Kyle’s erection.
Kyle’s hands began stroking my tits, while it was George’s turn to find the waistband of my panties, and he very slowly began to pull them down, while hungrily staring at my crotch. He groaned in anticipation as the skimpy fabric pulled away to reveal my shaved little slit. He pulled the panties off my ankles, then pressed them to his face and inhaled deeply, and I swear I nearly came there and then. Then he leaned his hot body forward over me so I could feel his hard cock against my thighs. He kissed my tits, then slowly worked his tongue down my body until he reached my pussy. He lifted my legs high, and spread them wide, then pressed his wide open mouth down against my wetness. His tongue pushed its way inside me, then dragged up over my throbbing clit.
“Oh my God!” I groaned.
George came up for air, then swung my body round so my legs hung off the side of the couch.
“Buddy, get in here!” he said, “this is the finest pussy I ever tasted!”
Within moments, Kyle was between my legs, squeezing my thighs and lapping up my juices.
“Fuck, yeah!” He exclaimed, “That’s incredible!”
I never felt so sexy in my life as when I had two guys raving about how good my pussy tasted!
George took over again, and Kyle sat up beside me so I could stroke his cock, and we began kissing passionately.
George drew my clit into his mouth, gently sucking and licking, and it felt incredible, but then he slipped two fingers inside me and found my G-spot, and I swear I nearly bit Kyle’s tongue off.
“Oh my fucking God!” I yelled, “Yes!”
“Dude,” said Kyle, “you have to show me what you’re doing to her!”
He climbed down beside his friend again, and my hand suddenly felt empty, but that quickly passed as George took my clit between his finger and thumb and showed his friend.
“You gotta suck her clit in between your lips, and then flick it with your tongue.” He demonstrated by squeezing my clit, then stroking it with a wet finger of his other hand.
He continued: “Then you slip two fingers inside her, and curl them forward see?”
Kyle gently pushed two fingers into my wet pussy, after first looking up for my approval. As he pressed them against my G-spot, I moaned softly.
“See?” said George, “feel that slightly rough patch? That’s just the back of the clit. They go wild for that, right?” He grinned up at me, but I couldn’t make any intelligible sounds, because Kyle had my clit between his lips, and was working it just as his friend told him. He was a damn fast learner!
As Kyle continued working my pussy, George climbed up beside me so I could stroke his cock, and we kissed some. He began to firmly tweak my nipples.
“You like that?” He whispered.
“Oh yeah!” I moaned.
“You like it harder?”
“Yes,” I moaned, “Do it harder!”
Kyle thought I was talking to him, and stepped up his clit-licking, which was fine with me, but George also began to pinch my nipples harder. It hurt, but in such an incredibly good way.
“Harder,” I whispered, and he squeezed even more, until I thought I couldn’t take any more, except I wanted more and more.
“More,” I groaned, “more!”
Kyle began sucking and fingering my cunt faster and harder, and George began to pull on my nipples until I thought he might pull them off, but I didn’t care – this was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
I began to feel my orgasm coming, deep and low, and I knew it would be huge. I squeezed George’s cock as hard as I could, and grabbed the back of Kyle’s head and pulled it into my pussy like I wanted to push his entire body up inside me, and still George pinched and tugged and twisted my nipples, and I had tears in my eyes, and then suddenly I was coming. My body lurched and squirmed, and I was vaguely aware that I was yelling “Yes! Yes!” over and over, and I remember thinking the neighbors would probably call the police, but I didn’t care about anything in the world while that huge orgasm washed over me, and then I was off the front of the couch, on my knees in Kyle’s arms, and he was kissing me softly, and I could taste my pussy in his mouth, and then George was on his knees behind me, his arms also around me, gently caressing my throbbing nipples, and I’d never felt so safe and fulfilled in my life, and I though, “Jesus, and they haven’t even fucked me yet!”
As the guys held me, I slowly became aware of the two hard cocks pressing against me, and realized I had unfinished business. I turned around and guided George back up on to the couch, then pushed his knees apart. I held his cock up with a firm grip in my fist, and began licking and sucking his balls, pulling the whole sack into my mouth and rolling them around with my tongue. There was so much precum dripping off the tip that I could taste it all the way down on his balls.
Behind me, Kyle was fondling my ass and running his fingers up my pussy lips. He began kissing my cheeks, and eventually I felt his tongue pressing against my asshole, slurping and pushing into me.
I could feel George tensing up, so I slowed down, and instead just gently lapped at the head of his cock while I enjoyed the tongue in my ass.
Kyle worked a few fingers into my pussy, and I knew he was getting ready to fuck me. He began to stroke his prick up and down my wet slit, and I parted my legs further, inviting him in. He placed the tip right at my entrance, and very, very slowly started to feed it in.
“Oh, fuck me!” I groaned, “Give me your full length!”
He pushed into me until I could feel his balls against me, then began to pound me hard. I gripped George’s cock with both hands and hung on for the ride.
“Don’t come yet!” I begged.
He slowed down and began to pace himself, and gently shifted position so he pressed against different parts of me with each stroke. I got back to work on George.
Then I said, “ok, switch!”
George began to get up to get behind me, but I pushed him down onto the couch and let Kyle’s cock slip out of me and climbed astride George. I grabbed the base of his cock firmly, and guided it into my dripping cunt, impaling myself on him. I braced myself on his chest and rode him hard, my sore boobs bouncing in time.
Then I bent forward so my tits were pressing down on George’s chest, sliding up and down his body, and he wrapped his arms around me.
“Tell me what it looks like,” I gasped.
“You’re so fucking hot,” said Kyle, “Your lips are gripping him so tight!”
“Is his cock all wet with my juice?”
“Yeah, it’s incredible!”
He began stroking and squeezing my butt.
“Slap it,” I ordered, “Spank me!”
He laid a mild slap on one of my cheeks.
“Come on!” I yelled, “Like you mean it – leave a mark!”
“Just watch your aim!” muttered George.
Kyle hit me much harder, once across each cheek.
“Keep it up,” I said, but get your cock over here.“
He slapped me again, and shuffled down to our heads. I turned toward him and grabbed his cock between my lips, sucking as hard as I could. I had one arm around George’s neck, bracing my self as I fucked him, and I used the other to massage Kyle’s balls.
He slapped me a couple more times, but softer – I think he was nervous about hurting me when his cock was in my mouth!
“Finger my ass!” I directed.
He ran a finger around my little hole, then wet it in his mouth and pressed it against me. Slowly he began to push inside, moving up and down in time to me riding George.
“I’m all the way in,” he said, “Does it feel good?”
“Hell, yes,” I grunted, “do two fingers.”
He added another finger, stretching me out, fucking me.
“Can you get another in?” I asked.
A third finger entered my tiny hole, and it almost hurt, but it still wasn’t enough.
“Kyle, fuck me!” I commanded.
“You mean…?”
“Yes!” I said, “Put your big fat cock in my ass!”
I let go of his balls, and he climbed up onto the couch behind me, his legs astride George’s. I slowed down until I was lying still on top of George, and he began to slowly kiss me, his tongue exploring my mouth. I wondered if he could taste his buddy in me.
Kyle spread my cheeks wide, and I felt him place his cock against my tight little hole. He began to push. At first it didn’t feel like it would go in, but then my sphincter began to yield. It felt different than his fingers, a more constant pressure.
I gave a little yelp.
“You ok?” He asked.
“Yes, keep pushing,” I groaned into George’s mouth, “it feels so good!”
He pressed harder, and I began to feel delicious pain as he forced his way into me, stretching me wide, his cock fighting against George’s for space inside me. Soon I felt his short-cropped pubes against my cheeks, and I realized he was all the way in – I had two cocks in me!
He pulled out a little, then back in, and began the rhythm of fucking me. I began to slide back up and down George’s length, still kissing him passionately, in just the right way to get their cocks alternating pumping me, but soon changed it up so that they were filling me at the same time. It felt incredible, two big cocks in me, Kyle’s fingers digging deep into the flesh of my hips, George’s hands now on my tits and his delicious mouth on mine. Their balls must be slapping against each other, and I wished I could watch their lengths filling me next to each other.
We were all grunting and groaning, and I clenched my pussy and ass around them, causing even louder noises from the guys.
I could feel my second orgasm of the night beginning to swell in me, and I groaned, “I’m gonna cum!”
We started fucking harder, and I could feel the urgency in both their bodies as they neared their tipping points. Kyle grunted loudly and grabbed my waist, pulling himself hard into me. I felt his cock twitch as he began to squirt his hot cum into me. That was all it took to push me over the edge, and my body shuddering set George off, and he shot his load deep inside my cunt. I felt a second wave overtake me, and I could hardly breathe as their cocks pulsed and jerked inside me, filling me with their creamy cum.
Kyle finally slipped out of me and slumped, exhausted, on the floor. I rested my head, panting, on George’s chest as I gradually felt him shrink inside me and then slip out, and I relished the sensation of his cum leaking out of me.
After we’d recovered, we sat around naked, chatting and drinking, until we were all too tired to go on.
I slept with George that night since he had a bigger bed, and we woke up and made love once during the night, then in the morning I crawled into Kyle’s bed and gave him some loving too, but right now this is all I’m telling, and I still don’t know if I should tell Linda anything…
A Very Exclusive Auction [Fm][virgin]
I finished my glass of champagne as the sleek, black Mercedes swept down the ramp and into the parking garage under the hotel. As agreed, this level was completely empty – no-one would see me arrive.
The chauffeur pulled up next to a fire exit, and climbed out. I checked myself in the mirror one last time before he opened my door and I stepped out into the cold, echoing space.
A security officer came out of the building, and as she held the door for me, my chauffeur handed her my overnight bag.
She didn’t speak, but simply led the way down a long hallway, of the type you would find in any hotel basement, anywhere in the world.
We eventually arrived at a door that was ajar, with only darkness visible beyond. The officer stood by the door, waiting her cue, and I discreetly looked her up and down. She was trim, small-breasted, with a short, neat haircut. Her suit fit perfectly, and she exuded calm professionalism. She was the kind of security personnel I was used to, not just some rent-a-cop.
A man’s voice came from inside the room. “Gentlemen, I’m told our guest has arrived. I’ll ask you to remember one last time that complete and utter discretion is required from you, no matter the outcome of this evening for each of you.”
With that, the security officer held the door open for me, and I entered the darkness. I found myself in the center of a low stage, but the bright spotlights prevented me from seeing out at the audience. Even in the darkness, I could feel eyes on me. On the side of the stage, a man in a dark suit stood behind a podium.
“Welcome,” he said, “we are ready to proceed. Jane, please prepare her.”
The security officer stepped from the shadows and stood in front of me, and indicated discreetly that I should step to my right. I did so.
“Your wrists, please,” she said.
I held my hands out to her, and she quickly secured my wrists in leather shackles. A line was lowered from above, and she clipped the chain between the cuffs to it, and then it rose again, lifting my arms lightly over my head.
So this was really happening – I was going to go through with it. In front of me, unseen, were seven of the World’s wealthiest men, hand-picked and invited in the greatest secrecy. These were men who were used to having anything they wanted, but tonight they had the chance to bid on something that normally could not be bought – the virginity of a bona fide European Princess. This was why everything had to be so top-secret – imagine if the press found out that I was selling my virtue to the highest bidder – even worse, imagine if Daddy knew!
I had been tempted to wear white, in honour of the occasion, but I look so much better in black, so I had chosen a sumptuous black velvet strapless ballgown, and under it sexy new black lingerie – a garter belt, silk stockings, and a low-cut black lace g-string. To top it, a triple strand of pearls around my delicate throat, and pearl teardrop earrings. My dark hair was piled artfully atop my head, with just one careless, sexy strand hanging down my face.
“The dress, please,” said the auctioneer, and Jane stepped behind me and began to unclip the fasteners. As she moved downward, the cups began to lean forward from my bust, and eventually the entire gown dropped to my feet, exposing my body to the glare of the spotlights.
I knew every eye in the room was on my breasts, and well they might be – they were generous, high and firm. The press had had many complimentary things to say about them when I was photographed in a bikini last season.
I stepped out of the discarded gown, and Jane tossed it off the stage.
“And now the panties, please.”
Jane crouched down behind me, and hooked her fingers under the waistband, then slowly pulled my panties down. I instinctively clenched my thighs and buttocks, so she had to tug a little, but then the silky fabric slid down deliciously over my thigh-high stockings to my ankles, and I stepped out of them, holding each foot up long enough for her to get the panties over my shoes. I stood there, in just jewelry, shoes, garter belt and stockings, giving the room their first view of my bare, freshly waxed pussy. I thought I heard a few murmurs, but it was hard to tell.
After a few moments, “Jane?” inquired the auctioneer, “if you don’t mind proceeding?
She crouched in front of me and secured another leather cuff around each of my ankles. She tapped my feet to indicate that I should move them apart. She had to do it several times, until my feet were about thirty-six inches apart, then attached the chain on each cuff to loops in the floor, securing me in place. As she did so, I noticed that she kept sneaking glances at my bare pussy. I wondered if she could smell my growing dampness. Finally, she nodded to someone unseen, and the line above me pulled tighter, stretching me until about half my weight was on my wrists. I didn’t hurt, but it was humiliating. Humiliating, and very, very arousing.
Jane stepped away, and the auctioneer spoke again.
“Gentlemen, before we begin the bidding, you may examine what is on offer. You may touch, but please, no penetration – that pleasure is reserved for the winner.”
From the darkness in front of me a group of men emerged. Their position in society was betrayed by their perfectly tailored suits and the confident way in which they carried themselves. They were a varied group in appearance, after all, there are billionaires all over the world, but they were all exceedingly handsome – I had made sure invitations went only to men I found attractive, after all, this was my body we were talking about.
They gathered around, and I quickly felt hands all over my body – feeling my hair, my breasts, my nipples, my ass, my legs, and of course, my pussy. There were constantly fingers jostling for position between my legs, stroking my lips, my clit, circling the prize, spreading my growing wetness around, but they all respected the only rule.
Soon my skin was tingling all over. I closed my eyes and reveled in the delicious touch of them, desiring me, aching for me, hoping to win a night with me, to be the first man to enter me. I imagined how hard their cocks must be right now, and wished I could have them all.
I half opened my eyes and looked around at them. Suddenly, I realized there were only six men, even though I had invited seven. Had one declined? Was one of the men I had chosen not interested in me? Then, outside the pool of light, I discerned another shape. There was number seven, but why didn’t he come forward?
The auctioneer coughed discreetly, and the hands began to withdraw, and the men returned to their seats. At the last moment, the man in the dark stepped forward. He had thick, black, curly hair and a sensuous mouth. He leaned in close, and I could smell his devastating cologne. He locked eyes with me, and slid one hand down between my legs, cupping my pussy, then dipped his middle finger into my juices. I gasped – he hadn’t gone in far, but he had gone in. He lifted his hand up from my crotch, brushing across my clit, and, maintaining eye contact, tasted his finger. My knees quivered, and suddenly my wrists were bearing my full weight. He quickly turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me panting, my breasts heaving. I struggled to regain my footing and my composure, and the auction began.
It seemed the men wanted more than just to touch me – the bids went sky-high. I casually wondered how I would explain these huge donations to my chosen charities. Eventually the bids slowed, and I was sold, but to whom? In the darkness, I heard chairs scraping as the losers left, then even the auctioneer departed. For a scary moment, I thought I was left alone, but then Jane, the security officer, reappeared.
She placed a large leather case in front of me, and opened it. She pulled back a velvet cover to reveal some of the most dazzling diamond jewelry I’d even seen – a fabulous choker, and three pairs of earrings, which puzzled me.
She removed my pearl necklace, then picked up one pair of diamond earrings and stepped back to me, gently removed my pearl earrings, and replaced them with a dangling string of diamonds.
She turned and picked up another pair, but this time clip-ons. Was she going to put multiple pairs on me? Instead of my ears, though, her hands went to my breasts. I gasped in shock as she rubbed my nipples to hardness, then clipped the dangling diamonds to them. Initially the cold platinum clasps hurt, but the pain soon turned into a sensual throbbing. I let my body sway from side to side as I hung by my arms, and thrilled at the sensation the swinging jewelry created in my nipples.
Next, Jane turned and picked up the third set of “earrings”, and crouched in front of me. Surely not! Her fingers quickly found my smooth pussy lips and clipped one little string of diamonds to each side. Again, the initial sharp pain quickly turned into a sexual yearning.
She stood and surveyed her handiwork – I must’ve been quite a sight! Then, from a black velvet pouch, she pulled what looked like a small chrome egg, but with a stalk that had a large clear gemstone embedded in the end. I had no idea what it could be, and watched in fascination as she poured a few drops of oil on the egg from a small silver container, and rubbed it all over. Then she stepped behind me.
Suddenly, I felt her fingers parting my cheeks, and I realized what the item was. I felt its cold hardness press against my asshole.
“Hey, no!” I yelped, but she paid me no attention. I tried to squirm, but the bindings at my ankles kept my legs spread, and she firmly pushed it against my tight hole. It suddenly hit home that I had surrendered all rights over my body for this evening. I wriggled helplessly, but she had me, and she knew it.
“Just relax and let it in,” she panted, and in her breathy voice I realized she was as turned on as I was. I continued to struggle, and she was forced to grab my pussy with her other hand and press me back against the plug. Her fingers felt delicious, and I let out a little moan, and momentarily let down my rear guard. She quickly took the advantage, and shoved the plug all the way in, then staggered backwards, panting, a triumphant look on her face.
“That was fun!” I grinned, and she quickly tried to regain her professionalism. She turned away from me, and pulled the hem of her skirt back down, which had ridden up during the struggle, and straightened her jacket.
Jane once again turned to the leather case, and this time returned with a diamond collar which she snapped around my throat, deliberately not making eye contact. She picked up a long silver chain and attached it to a loop on the front of the collar, and let the cold links fall against my bare skin. Was I to be kept on a leash?
She turned again to the leather case and pulled out an amazing bejeweled mask, of the kind one might wear to a masked ball. I know my jewelry, and I could tell it was of the finest craftsmanship, and worth a small fortune. She placed it over my face, where it covered my eyes and nose, but left my mouth clear, and fastened it behind my head.
“Why do I need this?” I asked, but she remained silent.
She crouched in front of me again, and removed the shackles from my ankles, so I was finally able to close my legs. The diamonds clamped on my labia and the buttplug felt so odd!
The line above me went slack, and I was able to lower my arms, but instead of removing the cuffs, she simply separated them, and before I could react she quickly moved my hands behind my back and snapped them together again.
“Now I take you upstairs,” she said, simply.
She picked up the loop at the end of my chain and led me to the door. We stepped back into the bare, concrete hallway under the hotel. The chilly air gave me goosebumps as we began to make our way down the hallway, and the clicking of my heels echoed off the walls and pipework in the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance I heard a door open, and moments later a blast of ice-cold air rolled over us, and made me shiver.
As I walked, the jewelry tugged my nipples as my unrestrained tits bounced and bobbed, and the diamonds hanging from my pussy brushed against the top of my thighs. It was terrifying and exhilarating. I hoped the area was secure, so that no hotel employee would suddenly come though one of the many doors we passed, but somehow, I also hoped some young man would stumble across us and get the memory of a lifetime.
We saw no-one as Jane lead me on my leash down what seemed like miles of corridors, until finally we stopped at a large set of double doors.
Jane turned to me and said, “remember, the mask hides your identity – walk tall.” And before I could even begin to digest her words, she pushed open the door and led me into the crowded hotel lobby!
There I was, in just stockings, heels and diamonds in front of maybe a hundred people. Being pulled on a leash and with my hands cuffed behind my back, there was nowhere to hide my shame, and I blushed from the top of my head the bottom of my pussy lips. My instinct was to turn and run, but I was afraid Jane would yank me off my feet if I tried it, and then the mask might fall off, and oh, the scandal! I pulled myself together, pulled back my shoulders, pushed out my tits, and walked proud.
A ripple of surprise rolled across the lobby, and soon I saw people taking photos and video with their phones – I would surely be an internet sensation even before I had my first cock in me!
There were shocked looks on women’s faces, grins on men’s, and a few giggles as we walked to the bank of elevators, and then an absolute eternity while we waited for one, but I forced myself to turn and face the open space, and let them look. Once I got used to the stares, and realized that I hadn’t heard anyone recognize me, I relaxed a little, and began to enjoy the attention. I did my sexiest red-carpet pose, although I never usually posed with my hands cuffed behind my back! There was a wolf-whistle, and I blew a kiss in its general direction. I was almost sorry when Jane tugged on my collar to lead me into the elevator.
Up and up we rode, and although Jane faced away from me, I caught her checking me out in the mirrors. We stepped out of the elevator into a deserted corridor, then along to another, private elevator that took us up to the penthouse suite. Jane led me into a large, tastefully-decorated living room. There were sumptuous couches, expensive-looking lamps, and a roaring fire in a large fireplace. She led me close enough to the fire that I could feel the warmth on my skin, and then removed my diamond collar and mask.
“You will wait here, facing the door, for your purchaser. You will call him ‘sir’.”
She left, after taking one, long, lingering look at my shaved pussy, and I stood there, naked and helpless on the rug, awaiting him.
I waited, and my imagination took me in all sorts of different directions, imagining the various ways he might take me, how his kisses would feel, whether he would be gentle or rough, whether he would leave me cuffed, or let my hands explore him. My imagination brought me to the edge of orgasm several times. It took a while for the ultimate question to occur to me – who actually had bought me?
After about twenty minutes, there was a soft chime from the elevator, and the doors swished open. I tensed in anticipation, suddenly acutely aware of my nakedness. Agonizing seconds passed, and I thought the elevator would close again, but then he stepped out.
It was him, the one I had hoped it would be, the one who had tasted me. Tall, dark and handsome, just like in all the romance books I loved. His suit was immaculately tailored, his black dress shoes polished. Elegant cufflinks glinted as he walked toward me, and stopped a few paces away.
He looked me up and down slowly, with a practiced eye. I was certainly not the first naked girl he had ever appraised. My whole body tingled under his gaze, and I felt my nipples stiffen and strain against the diamond clamps.
He walked slowly around me, keeping the same distance, and I felt his eyes taking in my shapely back and pert bottom.
When he was back in front of me, he moved in close. Without actually touching my skin, he toyed with the diamonds hanging from my right breast, and gave them a gentle tug, causing me to gasp.
“So you’re really a virgin?” He asked, in his crisp British accent.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever touched a cock?”
“No, sir.”
He gently cupped my breast in his hand.
“Any man ever touched these perfect tits?”
“Only one, sir, in college.”
He slid his hand down my belly to my crotch, where he began fingering the diamonds, then he slipped a finger into my folds. There was the briefest flicker of surprise at how wet I was, then he slid his finger up to my clit and painted my juices around it. I bit my lower lip in a futile effort to stop it quivering.
“Did he get to touch this?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you want to let him?”
“Yes, sir, but I resisted.”
He withdrew his hand again, and moved behind me. He stroked my right shoulder, then ran his hand down to the cuffs that restrained me. He lifted my arms slightly, then pressed his other hand between my cheeks and found the plug. He gave it a gentle tug, as if to confirm it was correctly placed, but then continued to hold it as he spoke to me.
He leaned in close, so I could feel the expensive fabric of his suit coat against my bare skin.
“How often do you masturbate?”
I blushed, and stammered, “almost every day.” It didn’t even occur to me to lie to him.
“Have you tasted yourself?”
I blushed even deeper, “yes, sir,” I whispered.
He released the plug and my arms.
“On your knees, princess.”
I complied, struggling to keep my balance with my arms behind me, and knelt on the soft rug.
He stepped in front of me, close, and I could see the bulge in his trousers. He unzipped, and pulled out his rock-hard cock. The tip was just inches from my face, and there was a large drop of clear liquid coming out of the little hole in the tip. As if watching from above, I saw myself lean forward and take it in my mouth. It was hot and salty, and I sucked on it as if possessed. All the sexual urges I had fought since discovering boys were released, and my whole body burned with passion. As my lips rode up and down his long, thick shaft, I glanced upward, and saw that his eyes were closed, his head slightly back. He gave a low moan, then quickly pulled out of me.
I was suddenly shocked at how forward I had been, and cast my gaze downward in shame. He was quickly on his knees in front of me, and took my chin in his strong hand and lifted my face to his. He kissed me full on the lips, mouth open, hot with lust, his arms pulling me into his embrace. I responded passionately, and the whole world melted. The shaft of his cock pressed between my legs, and my tongue explored his. His right hand slid down to my ass and gripped the plug again. He pulled on it, but I clenched tight and moaned into his mouth. He pulled harder, and harder, until finally I had to give it up. I heard a thud as he tossed it aside, and then his hand slid under me again from behind, far enough for his fingers to enter my pussy. He pulled me up, until we were both on our feet, still kissing.
He pulled away from me, leaving me panting, my naked breasts heaving. His cock stood proud in front of him. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside, then his tie and shirt, the cufflinks dropped carelessly on the floor. I wanted to kiss his muscular chest, but he nodded over my left shoulder, indicating that I was to go into the next room. It was a large bedroom, with a beautiful four-poster bed in the middle. He grabbed me by my cuffed hands and pushed me to it, so I fell face-first onto it. I twisted my head to one side so I could breathe. I heard the rustling of fabric as he finished undressing, and I thought “this is it!” I thrust my ass up at him, inviting him to take what he had paid so much for, but instead I felt his hands slide down my silk stockings to my feet as he knelt behind me. He grabbed my ankles and spread my legs apart, and I felt his hot breath on my dripping cunt as he gazed on what no man had seen before.
His hands slid back up my inner thighs, and his thumbs spread me wide. I’ve never wanted anything so bad as I wanted his cock in me at that moment.
I felt a tug on the diamond jewelry clipped to my labia. I tensed, worried that he would yank them off, and he must’ve sensed my fear, because he softly stroked my ass and murmured, “diamonds suit you,” before gently unclipping them.
Once again, his thumbs spread me, then I felt his hot tongue on me, in me, stroking up and down me, smearing my copious juices from my clit all the way to my asshole, probing inside, swirling, sucking, nibbling. I writhed and moaned in ecstasy, then I felt him stand behind me.
“Oh God, yes, please fuck me!” I begged.
His hands gripped my buttocks, and I felt the head of his cock begin to part my lips. I tried to push backward to impale myself on him, but his strong hands on my ass held me down. Then suddenly he slid his cock up and laid it between my cheeks. I gasped in disappointment.
“No, please!” I yelped.
He chuckled. “We have all night,” he said gently, “I want to enjoy you some more.”
“Please,” I begged, “enjoy my pussy now!”
Instead, he undid my garter belt and unsnapped the straps from my stockings. He crouched behind me, pulled my feet together and outward, then removed my shoes. Then he sensuously slowly rolled the silk down my legs until I was finally totally naked for him. He held one foot in each hand and softly caressed the soles, then lifted them to his mouth. I felt the warmth of his lips as they closed around my toes, and then his tongue probing sexily between them. He gave each toe special attention as his fingers firmly massaged my soles, until I was whimpering in bliss.
Finally, he rose. He leaned over me again, so I felt his cock resting on my ass, and he undid my cuffs. “On your back, my virgin princess,” he commanded.
I complied, and slid further up the bed. He climbed on top of me, and I spread my legs for him. He knelt between my thighs and kissed me firmly on the mouth. My arms finally free, I ran my fingers through his hair, then down to feel the strong muscles of his back. I slid one hand under his belly and down to grip his cock. It felt so good, rock hard, yet the skin as soft as fine velvet. I squeezed it hard, and pulled the foreskin back, and was rewarded with his moan of pleasure into my mouth. I stroked it up and down, then tried to pull it towards my pussy, but instead he moved down my body until it slipped out of my hand.
His mouth began to work on my soft breasts, licking and kissing. He took the bejeweled clamps between his teeth one at a time, and deftly removed them, letting them slide between my tits down to my belly button. Then he began to work his magic on my nipples. His mouth teased and sucked and nibbled until I was moaning and rolling my head from side to side in a frenzy, actually close to cumming.
Then he moved further down. I pulled my knees up high to present my cunt to him, and immediately felt his hot tongue between my lips. He pressed it inside me as deep as he could, revelling in the taste of me, then moved his focus to my clit. I had never felt anything like this – his lips and tongue played a symphony on me, stroking, licking, sucking. Then he slid his fingers inside me and I let out a long, guttural moan. He probed all around inside me, sensing my every reaction, until he found the one magic spot that I didn’t know I had.
The world was swimming around me. I felt my fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that I thought I would rip them. My legs were wrapped tight around his back, pressing his face into me, and my thighs began to quiver. I could tell this would be an orgasm like I’d never had before. I began to hear a howling noise, and slowly, almost drunkenly, realized it was me. I could feel my pulse in my cunt, and I arched my back as the huge orgasm washed over me, through me, spreading hot waves from my throbbing pussy out to my very fingertips. My toes curled, and my thighs clamped his head in place, until I finally released him, and my head fell back on the pillow.
In a flash, him mouth was pressed against mine, and I hungrily lapped my pussy juices from his lips, and grabbed his cock and guided it against my slippery opening. We locked eyes, and I nodded slightly. In one huge thrust, he was inside me. We both grunted in unison, and he began to fuck the living daylights out of me. Long, smooth, deep strokes. It felt like that was the natural order of things – his cock simply belonged in my pussy, there was no other way for the universe to be. I wrapped my legs around him again, and he kissed me hard as he pounded my tight cunt. I gripped his cock as hard as I could, and dug my nails into his back, never wanting him to stop.
I shifted my pelvis slightly so that he was hitting that magic spot with each stroke, and I realized that I could come again. I grabbed his hand and put it on my tit, and he grabbed and squeezed, and pinched my nipple until I almost cried out in pain, but it was so good, so hot, so fucking sexy, and I could feel it rising again in my clit.
“I’m going to cum again,” I gasped.
I clenched my cunt as tight as I could as the wave hit, and that was all he could take. I felt his cock spasm and jerk inside me, and he pressed his mouth against mine, emitting a deep, primal groan as his hot cum squirted inside me. I milked his cock with my pussy as long as I could, extending my orgasm as his body twitched on top of me, until he eventually slumped, spent, on top of me.
His cock slowly shrank inside me, until it finally slipped out, and he gently kissed me and rolled off. He slipped his arm under me and pulled me toward him. I rolled into him, and gently cupped his balls as I rested my head on his heaving chest.
Over my limit [Fmfm] [humiliation][public][pain]
I showed up at bankruptcy court a little early for my 8:30 hearing, so as not to be flustered. I’d dressed nicely, business-like, a dark pencil skirt, crisp white blouse, stockings, heels. My long dark hair was in a sensible ponytail. I planned to give the impression of a young woman who wanted to do the right thing, but circumstances had conspired against her, overwhelming her feeble femininity. A girl who was very sorry, your honour. I had a bottle of expensive champagne waiting in the fridge back in my flat to celebrate my new-found financial freedom when I got home.
I checked the list on the corkboard outside the courtroom – there was one woman ahead of me – and I went in and waited at the back. A clerk was reading the list of debts. She was six months behind on her rent, she owed almost ten thousand on a car she’d totalled, and she had ridiculous credit card debt, including expensive clothing shops. I could see her at the front of the small courtroom, her back to the dozen or so members of the audience, facing the judge sitting high on the bench. She was fairly short, and pleasingly plump, with straight blonde hair, and dressed smartly in a business suit with the skirt well below the knee.
“Total debts, your honour, are seventy three thousand, one hundred and twenty seven pounds and sixteen pence,” concluded the clerk.
Silly girl. Anything under fifty grand is a regular, dischargeable bankruptcy, anything over has to be paid for at auction.
She knew what was coming – I could see her shoulders shaking as she held back the tears.
The judge looked over his reading glasses down at her.
“Miss Barker, the evidence before this court is that you have lived well beyond your means, spending frivolously without thought for the hard-working men and women left paying for your excesses. Their losses must be made whole. The remedy the law allows is that you will be taken from this place to the public auction house, and there be sold into slavery for a period of six years.”
She gave a loud sob, and shook her head violently. On either side I saw bailiffs moving toward her.
The judge continued, “The proceeds of your auction will be distributed among your many creditors with any remaining balance being held in trust to help you rebuild your life when you regain your freedom. Proceed!” He banged his gavel.
The two bailiffs took hold of Miss Barker by the shoulders and brought her forward before the judge’s bench. Before she could even react, one of them roughly pulled her jacket off, and the other cuffed her hands behind her back. One then pulled out a pair of scissors of the type paramedics use to cut clothes off injured persons, and quickly cut away her cream-coloured camisole top, while the other pulled down her skirt, leaving her in just her underwear and tights. They turned her toward the audience. Her pretty face was contorted in anguish, tears streaking the mascara down her cheeks. She tried to drop to the floor and curl up in a ball, but they were ready for her, and held her up for our inspection. She had a nice full figure, wide hips, and a curvy belly. I could see her bra held sizable tits. I’m straight, but I couldn’t wait to see them.
Three more snips, and one bailiff yanked the bra away. She squealed and squirmed, and her big tits and belly jiggled deliciously. The taller bailiff grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her off her feet, and the other crouched in front of her, and in one swift, practiced motion, pulled her tights, shoes and panties down and off her, revealing a mass of dark pubes (ha – I knew she wasn’t a natural blonde!). She kicked her legs in a futile attempt to escape, but only succeeded in revealing more of herself to us, and increasing her shame and humiliation. I Idly wondered what it felt like to be stripped bare in public like that, and I had to admit, there was a certain tingle in my crotch at the thought. Maybe something to roleplay with my boyfriend…
The bailiffs tried to walk her toward the door, but she struggled and squirmed, so they had to pick her up, one on each side, one arm around her back, the other holding up her knees, so her legs were spread wide. Despite her wailing, there was a hint of excitement in her eyes, and I definitely saw a sparkle of wetness in the pink between her gaping, furry pussy lips. I thought it would be fun to own a girl like that, if I had the money.
Out the door they took her, and off to slave-processing.
In my early twenties, me and my girlfriends would sometimes go and watch the public parts of the processing, usually just to ogle naked men being measured and tested, but occasionally to gloat over the fate of an acquaintance, or even friend who’d been caught shoplifting and been sentenced to a month or two. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as seeing the girl you caught your boyfriend with being paraded naked and humiliated to the auction block.
I was lost in my thoughts when I heard my name called by the clerk, “The next matter before this court, Miss Jennifer Simons.”
I stepped forward to the dock, which was really just a table facing the judge. The bailiffs had retaken their places on each side of the courtroom. I flashed them each a quick smile – they wouldn’t be needed for this case.
“Your Honour,” read the clerk, “Miss Simon appears before the court to beg discharge of debts totalling below fifty thousand pounds. She has no material assets beyond the allowed clothing and personal effects.” Damn right – I made sure to only spend money on having a good time!
He proceeded to read the rather short list of my credit card balances, and confirmed the total owing of forty nine thousand, eight hundred and fifty three pounds. Nice – I’d really done well!
The judge frowned at me. “Miss Simons, it appears you have successfully gamed our legal system, and in effect, stolen nearly fifty thousand pounds from your fellow citizens. Your kind disgust me, but I am left with no choice but to discharge your debt.” He raised his gavel.
There was a sudden banging of a door and a commotion behind me.
“Your honour,” called a reedy voice, “I beg to be heard on this matter!”
I spun around – what the fuck?
A skinny, disheveled-looking middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit scurried down the aisle waving a sheaf of papers, and stood panting beside me.
The judge frowned at him. “What’s the meaning of this?”
The man collected himself. He passed the papers to the clerk, took a deep breath, and spoke.
“Your honor, the Borough Of Wandsworth has been pursuing a debt incurred by Miss Simons for the past four years.”
“What is the nature of this debt?”
“A parking fine, plus fees and interest.”
“And the total owing?”
“One hundred and fifty four pounds and seventeen pence, Your Honour.”
The judge looked over at the clerk, who’d been looking through the paperwork.
The man looked up. “This appears to be in order, Your Honour.”
A tiny smile played around the judge’s mouth. “And what does this bring the debt to?”
Oh shit.
“Fifty thousand and seven pounds and seventeen pence, Your Honour.”
OH SHIT! OH SHIT!
The judge turned his attention back to me. Suddenly, the bailiffs were at my side.
“Miss Simons, your miscalculation has cost you dearly. Your debts being more than the statutorily-allowed fifty thousand pounds, they are not dischargeable in bankruptcy. Instead, your creditors losses must be made whole. The remedy the law allows is that you will be taken from this place to the public auction house, and there be sold into slavery for a period of six years.”
OH SHIT!
The bailiffs had hold of my shoulders now, waiting for the gavel. I instinctively squirmed, but they had me in a vice-like grip.
I felt the bang, rather than heard it, and before the echo had even died away, I felt myself being dragged forward. There was a tearing of fabric and a pinging of buttons as my blouse was ripped away, and I felt the cold steel as my hands were cuffed behind me. I was too stunned to cry out or resist. The room suddenly felt cold. The shorter bailiff pulled my skirt off. They spun me to face the audience and I suddenly had the ridiculous thought that I was glad I’d worn matching underwear and sexy stockings, followed by the painful thought that my nice bra was about to be ruined, followed by the sobering thought that it wasn’t my bra – I was a slave – I owned nothing, and everything that had been mine would now be sold at one of those pathetic ‘slave remnant’ auctions. There would probably be strangers rummaging through all my things by this evening, going through my makeup, my books, my underwear drawer, my vibrators! And the champagne, oh, what a shame!
The snip of scissors, a yank of fabric, and the sudden cold air on my nipples brought me back to myself. I felt them stiffen, not just because of the air conditioning, but also under the gaze of strangers. I used to love flashing my tits at bars and clubs after I’d done a few shots, and it always made my nipples hard and tingly.
I braced myself for what came next. Strong hands gripped my under the arms and lifted me. Because of my stockings, it was a multi-stage process – first each stocking and shoe, then my panties were yanked off me, leaving my shaved pussy exposed to the room. Minutes ago, I was wondering what this would feel like, fantasizing about having my cunt forcibly bared to strangers. It was scary and humiliating, and I desperately wanted to cover myself, but underneath there was something else, something primal. There was a throbbing in my clit that I couldn’t ignore. I had the urge kick my legs out and show them more.
“One more thing, Miss Simons.”
It was the judge. The bailiffs turned me again. I stood there, my hands cuffed behind me while the judge’s eyes took in my large, perky tits, slim waist, and shaved snatch. I thrust my tits out defiantly.
“Miss Simons, it is apparent that you attempted to take advantage of the bankruptcy laws for your own financial gain. Enslavement is a way for your creditors to be made whole, but this court feels that in your case a punishment is also in order. As such, before your auction, I additionally sentence you to six hours Public Humiliation. He banged the gavel again, and the bailiffs led me away.
Public Humiliation. The words rang in my ears. I hadn’t been to Humiliation Square in years – it was mostly for tourists – but I remembered what went on there. Men and women who had committed offences too minor to warrant full enslavement were put on display, shamefully naked, for the general public to grope and abuse and humiliate. A boy in my second year of college had stolen a policeman’s helmet when he was drunk, and got a day in HS. Me and my friends went along to laugh at his discomfort, naked and tied to a post. I remember he had a bulbous penis, and we’d made jokes about it and dared each other to tug on it. I’d been the bravest, and stroked him until it got hard. He’d been known as “Knobbly knob” for the rest of his time at college. Now I was in for the same treatment.
The bailiffs handed me off to a guard, along with my sentencing paperwork. The guard looked me up and down and grinned. “You’ll be popular – nice shaved twat like that! And those nipples look like they’ll hold a nice clamp.” I didn’t remember anything about clamping last time I visited HS – that didn’t sound good.
He led me through another door, and suddenly we were outdoors, in a small courtyard in the middle of the court complex. The chill morning breeze made me shiver as it stiffened my nipples and whipped around my bare pussy lips. For the first time in years, I missed having pubes.
“Turn around,” ordered the guard. I turned and held out my hands, expecting him to release my cuffs, but instead he quickly pushed a ball gag into my mouth and fastened it behind my head. I grunted in protest, but he just laughed, then banged on the side of a nearby van. The rear doors swung open and he pushed my head down and slapped my arse to encourage me inside. There was another guard in there, sitting on a wooden bench, and he pushed me down onto the bench opposite him.
“Hurry,” said the first guard, “she’s getting six hours in HS, but they still want her on the block by the end of business today.” That was at least something – I’d heard a night spent in the slave pens at the auction house was a most unpleasant thing.
The guard inside with me reached up beside me, getting close enough that I could smell his unpleasant breath, and pulled two canvas straps across my chest, fastening me firmly against the cold metal of the vans walls. He slammed the doors, then banged the wall dividing us from the cab, and the van’s engine rumbled into life, and we pulled away. It was dark in the back, but he pulled out a torch and played it up and down my naked body and watched as my unrestrained tits bounced up and down as the van swayed and lurched through traffic.
“Nice,” he leered, “now spread ‘em and show me your twat.”
Reluctantly, I opened my legs for him. He brought the torch in close between my legs to get a better look.
“Looks juicy,” he said, then pointed the light into my face. I squinted against the glare. “Is it juicy?”
I shook my head – no.
“Well, better check.”
The van lurched, and he braced himself against my right knee with the hand holding the torch, so I could feel the hot lens on my thigh. With his free hand he reached forward for my cunt. Instinctively, I began to close my legs, mortified in the knowledge that he would indeed find me wet, but he slapped them apart again.
“Try that again and I’ll ram this thing right up you, understand?” He growled.
I nodded and opened up again, mumbling “yes” into the gag.
He reached forward again and pushed two fingers up into me. It was such an awful violation, so why did it feel so good when he curled his fingers up and pressed on my g-spot? How many other helpless girls had he done this to? Were his fingers already sticky from the last girl he’d transported before picking me up? His thumb found my clit and circled it roughly. I moaned into my gag, and he laughed cruelly.
“Ha, you sluts are all the same. You get all juiced up when you know you’re going to Humiliation Square.” He pulled his fingers out of me and held them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Not bad, a little fishy.”
That really got my hackles up and I glared at him – how dare he?! I always kept my personal hygiene tip-top! There was nothing fishy about my cunt!
He reached forward again and wiped his wet fingers on my left tit, then gave the nipple a sharp tweak.
The van slowed to a stop.
“Here we are,” he said. He opened the door, and I saw we were in some dimly-lit underground space. He leaned forward and gave my tits a good squeeze before unstrapping me and ushering me out of the van. The other guard was there, and then led me to an open area nearby. There was a pair of vertical poles, about four feet high and about six feet apart, within a ten foot circle painted in yellow on the ground. Right in the middle of the circle was a floor drain. Around the base of each pole looped a chain with a plastic ring on the end, and similar chains dangled off the top of the poles. Near the poles, just within the yellow ring, was a small vending machine, like a car park ticket machine. Further away from us, in the semi-darkness, I could see other such setups.
They led me into the center of the ring and stood me between the poles.
“Legs apart,” instructed the driver, “more, more.” I spread as far as I could without losing my balance, and he fastened the plastic rings around my ankles so I couldn’t close my legs up again, then he uncuffed me and chained my wrists to the top of the poles.
The guard who had fingered me went over to the machine and held my paperwork up in front of it. I saw the familiar red of a scanning laser read the barcode on the top. The machine beeped, then there was a loud thunk as it dispensed something. He leaned in and read the glowing screen whilst pulling the dispensed object out of the tray.
“Huh, it says vag only, no anal. Unusual. What did you do, blow the judge?”
He tossed the object to his colleague, “Here, you do the honours.”
The driver went behind me and began groping my bottom, spreading my cheeks wide. I felt something cold and hard pressing against my ring. Surely not! I tried to protest loudly and wriggled helplessly.
“That’s enough!” said the man, sternly, “You should be happy the judge decided to spare you anal humiliation. Now open up and let me plug you.” He pushed harder against my resisting anus.
“Here, Mike, help me with her.”
The finger-guard grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me forward so I was bent over, but held me up so I didn’t topple forward. The pressure increased, and slowly, steadily, my asshole was penetrated by the cold metal. I screamed into my gag and clenched as tight as I could, but it was useless, and finally, just as the pain became unbearable and I thought it would rip me open, the widest point passed my sphincter and the plug popped into place inside me. I gave a loud groan of relief.
Mike pushed me upright by my tits, and the driver gave me a hard slap on the bottom. “There you go, not so bad,” he laughed. “Now your little pucker is all protected from the nasty tourists!”
Mike pressed a button on the vending machine, and both of them stepped out of the yellow circle and backed away towards their van.
A loud warning klaxon began to sound, like a lorry backing up, and a yellow light on the machine began to flash. Above me I heard a whirring sound, and suddenly the place was filled with sunlight – the ceiling was opening above me into a circle the same size as the one I was chained within. Once it was fully open, I felt the ground begin to move and realized I was standing on a circular lift that slowly rose upward to ground level. Up there, there were people gathered around the hole in the ground, watching the fresh meat come on display. As the lift rose, the poles also got taller, so by the time I was fully at the level of the open Square, my arms were lifted high, leaving me fully spread eagled with nothing hidden from the gawking tourists crowded around the circle to witness the beginning of my six hours of Humiliation.
I heard a man’s voice call out, “Hey John, come get a load of the tits on this one!”
Another voice, “And shaved – nice looking cunt!”
The question, “I wonder if she’s got a nice tight arsehole?” was answered from behind me, “Sorry, mate, she’s plugged!”
There was a disappointed groan. “Why do they do that?” asked a young woman, turning to her companion.
“I heard,” he replied, “that it’s because she’s going to be enslaved after the Humiliation – keeps it fresh for the new owner. They tried restricting the pussies once, but there was nearly a riot in the Square. Here, you want a couple of clamps? My treat.”
She nodded eagerly, and the couple stepped up to the vending machine. He swiped his credit card, made a selection on the screen, and there were two clangs into the tray. She reached in and took out two black items that looked like large clothes pegs. As she came up in front of me, I could see they each had a little display screen reading ‘5:00’. She grinned at me, then took my left nipple between finger and thumb and began pinching and twisting until it was rock hard, then squeezed open the clamp and let it close around me. I squealed in pain, and she giggled. She made toward my other breast, then suddenly turned and handed the clamp to her boyfriend. “Here, you put this one on.”
He gave my right nipple a firm tweak, but seemed to change his mind at the last moment. “You know,” he said with a wicked grin, “I’m going to see if she likes to be clamped in your favourite spot.” He crouched down in front of me and began feeling my pussy lips.
She blushed and laughed, “Steve, you’re terrible!” There was a ripple of laughter from other spectators around the circle. He tugged one of my lips outward, and clamped it tightly. I groaned, a mixture of pain and shameful pleasure.
I looked down at the clamp on my tit and saw the display now read ‘4:35’ and realized it was counting down the five minutes he’d paid for. By ‘1:40’ my nipple and pussy lip had gone numb, and the young couple had lost interest in me and walked away, but there was still a large crowd watching my discomfort, lots of them pointing phones at me. Some were even taking selfies with me! At zero, the clamp fell off my nipple, then shortly thereafter, off my pussy. The rush of blood back was even more painful than the initial clamping, and I wished I could have soothed myself with my fingers, but here I was, helpless.
A uniformed guard picked up the clamps and deposited them into a slot on the side of the machine. “Who’s next?” He asked.
A middle-aged man swiped his card and made a selection. Nothing dispensed, and instead he spent the next three minutes fondling my breasts. He was surprisingly skillful, sometimes stroking and caressing tenderly, sometimes groping and pinching and tugging. By the time the buzzer sounded to end his turn, my nipples could have cut glass and I was moaning for more. I swear there was pussy juice running down my leg.
Next up was a young woman in all black goth gear and dark purple hair. She spent five minutes with her fingers up inside me, groping around like a bull in a china shop. While she fumbled around, frankly embarrassing herself more than me, I took the time to look around Humiliation Square. It was a fine example of an eighteenth century London square, with sumptuous townhomes around it. The center, where there would originally have been a manicured garden, had been converted to the open plaza I was currently on display on. There were about a dozen other stations like the one I was shackled in, mostly displaying women, but there were a few men, with small crowds gathered around each one. I idly wondered whether the experience was worse for men or women, and decided women, unless the man had a particularly small cock. Goth-girl finally finished. I hoped she’d gotten more out of the experience than I had. It’s rare that my pussy is drier after being fingered than before, and it was a good thing I was gagged, or I might have said something very unkind about her fingering technique.
On the other side of the square, I saw a man holding up a furled red umbrella, with a group of about a dozen tourists following him like so many ducklings. They wended their way around the square until they ended up in front of me. The guide looked me up and down. “She’ll do,” he said, mostly to himself, “nice and firm.”
He turned to the group and, referring to an electronic tablet he held, said, “this young woman has been sentenced to six hours for financial crimes, and will then be sold into slavery to make up for the money she stole from hard-working citizens.” There were some theatrical boos from the group. He continued, “as part of the tour, you all have the opportunity to join in her Humiliation.”
At this point he swiped a card in the vending machine, then gestured toward me. “Five minutes – have fun!”
They all crowded around me, and within seconds there were hands all over me – squeezing my tits, pinching my nipples, groping my bottom and tugging on the plug, and of course lots of fingers in my pussy. They talked about me as if I couldn’t hear them.
“So firm!”
“Such a juicy slut!”
“Surprisingly tight for a whore.”
“Shame her bottom’s plugged.”
“I wonder if we could rent one like this for the evening? I’ll ask the hotel concierge.”
It was supremely humiliating, being treated like a slab of meat for everyone’s enjoyment, but also incredibly arousing. Whenever I tried to focus on what one hand was doing, like caressing my throat, or tugging on a nipple, or tickling my earlobe, another sensation would override it, like a delicious squeeze on my clit, or a firm finger on my g-spot. Someone nearly managed to pull the plug out of me, and I almost came.
The timer buzzed, and they all retreated behind the line.
“I have one more surprise treat for you,” said the guide, “remember the tickets I gave you all earlier?” He tapped the screen of his tablet, and large numbers flashed by, then slowed down like a digital roulette wheel, finally settling on number 17.
“Seventeen! Who has seventeen?”
An excited woman, maybe in her sixties, pushed to the front waving her ticket.
“Congratulations Molly!” cheered the guide, “you get the honour of giving her six of the best!”
With this, he twisted the handle of his umbrella and pulled out a long, thin cane and handed it to Molly. She looked me in the eye and grinned, fingering the cane, then walked around behind me. I’d never heard of caning being part of the Humiliation, and I tried to protest through my gag.
“What’s that?” asked the guide, cupping his ear to me mockingly, “Oh, Molly, she says she likes it really hard!”
The group laughed uproariously at my predicament, and I braced myself.
There was a loud swish and a ‘crack’, and a terrible burning sensation across my bottom. I screamed into the gag. The tour group cheered.
Through my welling tears I could see other people around notice and come over to enjoy the spectacle.
‘Crack!’
I screamed again. The crowd was growing, cheering each blow. My bottom was on fire.
By blow four I was sobbing, then she landed blow five across the top of my thighs, and I screamed even louder. Only one to go!
But she stopped, and walked back in front. She handed the cane to the guide.
“Colin,” she said, “you’ve been such a wonderful guide for us today, I’d like you to take the last one.” There was a ripple of appreciative applause as he smiled and thanked her.
He walked back behind me, and I braced – he was much bigger and stronger than her, and this could be really bad. He caressed my bottom with his hand, running his fingers along what I was sure were very bright red lines.
“Maybe not the bottom,” he mused, walking back in front of me. He ran the tip of the cane up my inner thigh, and pressed it up between my pussy lips. “Maybe here?” he asked his audience. I instinctively stood on tiptoe, trying to pull my vulnerable lips away from the cruel cane. There was general laughter, but a few women winced the way I’ve seen men do when a buddy gets hit in the balls.
He raised the cane to my chest and let it swish back and forth, expertly hitting my tender nipples, no matter how I squirmed. “How about a nice red line across her tits?” More laughter.
“Here’s a nice little trick,” he said, and laid the cane across my breasts, resting on my nipples. He pressed them against the cane with his thumbs and began to rotate the cane slowly upward, pulling my nipples up and twisting them around the cane. I shrieked and writhed in pain, trying to pull away, but the restraints held me at his mercy. The crowd roared with laughter.
Finally he let go. “Who’d like to soothe her with their mouth?” Lots of hands went up, and he picked two volunteers, a man and a woman, who wasted no time closing their lips around my throbbing nipples, licking and sucking until the pain subsided a little. The throbbing in my cunt increased massively, though. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling, but was suddenly brought back to reality by him laying the cane hard across my sore buttocks for the final stroke.
His audience applauded as the guide slid the cruel cane back into its hiding place in his umbrella, then he led them away, and I was left alone, still with an unsatisfied tingle between my legs.
A few minutes passed by without anyone molesting me – I’d noticed a few more victims had been raised up into the square around me, so I was no longer the newest sensation.
Over in the distance, I heard a musical tinkling sound, and a bright light started flashing on top of one of the other vending machines. An excited buzz spread among the crowd, and people rushed over there, quickly blocking my view. I wondered what new humiliation that girl was suffering. After a few more seconds, there was a huge roar of jubilation, but I couldn’t tell why. This happened a few times during the day at various stations. Sometimes it was accompanied by a booming voice through a loudspeaker, but I could never make out what it said.
The sun was pretty high in the sky by now, and I wondered what time it was, but I had no way of finding out. There was no clock on the tower of the only church in the square, and it was not like I could ask anyone the time.
A small electric van trundled across the square to me and parked right in front of me. A middle-aged man in scrubs climbed out, a stethoscope around his neck. He stepped right up close to me and peered into my eyes.
“I’m just here to check up on you. Are you holding up ok?”
I nodded meekly. The ordeal was pretty awful, but after all, that’s what I was here for, so there was no point in complaining.
He shone a bright light into each eye, then pressed his stethoscope onto my chest above my right breast. Then he went behind me. First I felt him check the placement of my buttplug, then, (oh bliss!) he rubbed some cold cream on the welts across my bottom and thighs. I could have kissed him as he gently rubbed it in!
In front of me again he asked, “better?”. I nodded gratefully, trying to express my thanks with just my eyes.
He pulled on some rubber gloves. “I’m going to quickly check to make sure no-one has put anything inside you – they do that sometimes.” He slipped two fingers up inside me, but it felt medical, not like being groped. He nodded to himself, satisfied that there was nothing untoward.
He reached into the cab of the van and pulled out a water bottle with a long flexible nozzle. He fed the nozzle past the side of the ball gag into my mouth and squeezed. Oh, wonderful cool water! I drank deeply, quickly emptying the bottle. Finally he lifted a large container with a spray wand out of the van. “Sunscreen,” he explained as he sprayed my whole body, “eyes closed!” Once he’d covered me entirely, even between the legs, he carefully wiped my eyes with a tissue so I could open them again. I gave him another ‘thank you’ look and he smiled kindly.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, then climbed back into the van and drove off.
The commotion at the other station had died down by now, and I was getting more interest. Over the next two hours I was groped, fingered, pinched and clamped numerous times.
There were lots more comments. The ones from men were mostly complimentary about my breasts and vagina, and bragging about what they’d like to do to me – the phrase ‘destroy that pussy’ came up surprisingly often, but the women were much harsher. Words like ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’ were common, and several expressed the opinion that it was good that a slut like me that was used to using ‘that body’ to get whatever I wanted from men was finally getting her comeuppance.
One creepy-looking woman paid her money, then used her time to viciously twist my nipples whilst hissing “repent, whore!” into my ear.
One young man managed to pull my buttplug clean out, and ran away with it, laughing, and a guard had to be summoned to push a new one into me. That drew quite a crowd as I squirmed and moaned. The guard had to grab me hard by the crotch to push me back as he forced it in to me.
A group of young men decided it would be fun to see me come, so they took turns using their paid time to finger me and stroke my clit. By the fifth guy my clit was getting sore, but I managed to hold them off. It was close, but none of them quite had the skill needed, and they left angry, calling me a frigid bitch. Of course it’s never the man’s fault when a woman can’t come… I scored that as a win – I’d denied them the satisfaction. I was determined no-one would see me come here in public.
Noon came and went, along with another visit from my guardian angel and another bottle of water. About thirty minutes after that I felt an urgent pressure on my bladder. Oh shit! That’s why there was a drain under me! No, I couldn’t, that would be too much humiliation, even for Humiliation Square!
I held it in tightly for another hour, in increasing pain. Whenever someone had their fingers inside me, it was all I could do not to piss all over their hand, but finally some leaked out on a young woman who was particularly vigorous with her finger-fucking. She jumped up and gleefully waved her wet hand in the air. “This one’s ready!” she yelled, and ran over to the vending machine and punched a button. The musical tinkling sound I’d heard earlier began to play, and a bright light flashed on top of the machine. A large and excited crowd many rows deep quickly formed around my circle, many holding up cellphones. Oh god!
The pressure on my bladder was getting unbearable. “Piss, piss!” yelled the young woman at me, still waving her wet hand, and the crowd quickly picked up the refrain.
“Piss! Piss! Piss!” They chanted, “Piss! Piss!”
Oh, I knew Humiliation Square would be bad, but oh my god…
“Piss! Piss! Piss!” They chanted.
I couldn’t have held it any longer if I’d wanted to, so I gave in. First a little trickle ran down my leg, then the flood gates opened and a hot stream of piss gushed out past my flapping pussy lips. The crowd roared in delight, many still yelling “Piss! Piss!” The young woman was beside herself with glee. She ran up to me and grabbed my tits, yelling, “I got you, bitch, I got you!”
Finally the torrent reduced to a stream, then a trickle, then a few lone drips, and stopped. The relief in my bladder was an almost religious experience, almost completely overwhelming the shame and embarrassment. Almost. I wondered if this was the peak experience of HS.
She put her hand back to my cunt, seeming to revel in the wetness, stroking and pressing to get every last drop out of me, but when there was no more, she abruptly lost interest and walked away. The rest of the crowd also melted away fairly quickly, except for one last guy who paid for five minutes fondling my tits, and then even he was gone. I still drew interested glances and comments, but I went a full fifteen minutes without being touched. I took the time to take stock of my body.
The short answer was ‘discomfort’ – my wrists and ankles ached from being shackled, my thighs were sore from standing spreadeagled for hours, my bottom still burned from the caning, my arsehole still remembered the indignity of having the plug forced in, and of course my tits and pussy throbbed from the constant rough attention.
The electric van pulled up again. The kind man checked me over again, and wiped the remaining piss off my twat and legs, then he looked at me sadly. “Sorry dear,” he said, “time for your grand finale.”
He pulled a long device out of the van. It was like a microphone stand, except the base was thicker, and instead of a microphone, there was a large dildo on the top! He placed it in front of me, then pressed a button on the vending machine. The tinkling music and flashing light started again, and an expectant crowd quickly gathered. A hush settled, and then a loud recorded voice spoke from the vending machine.
“Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests, the woman displayed in shame before you has nearly completed her sentence here in Humiliation Square. There only remains the final, ultimate humiliation. You will all now witness her surrender her body to the throes of orgasm for your pleasure. May the shame of this ordeal remain with her always as a reminder of her obligation to society. You are all encouraged to film and share the event to social media. Her name is Jennifer Simons.” Oh god! These videos would haunt me for the rest of my life! Every prospective employer, lover, business associate I ever have would see this shame and humiliation!
In front of me was a wall of camera lenses, and the internet watched as the man crouched before me, tilted the stand, and placed the tip of the dildo between my pussy lips. He then slid the base until it was directly below me, thus pushing the dildo up into my cunt. I must have been taller than the last victim, as he then made an adjustment that pushed it further inside, until the fake balls pressed against my lips. He then retrieved another device from the van. It was a small black box with straps hanging off it, which he proceeded to wrap around my waist and the top of my thighs, so that the box pressed firmly against my clit. The crowd watched patiently, filming.
Satisfied that it was securely in place, he pressed another button on the vending machine. The dildo slowly withdrew from my snatch, almost all the way out, then back in, over and over. It must have been slightly bulbous at the front near the base, because each stroke ended pressing on my g-spot. The box on my clit began to vibrate gently.
The recorded voice spoke again. “Watch as she succumbs to the phallus filling her. You will notice her breath quicken, and a pleasant pink blush spread across her face and chest.” The crowd murmured in agreement.
The thrusting of the dildo became faster, and the clit stimulation harder. I began to moan, and I knew it would win.
There were comments from the crowd.
“Damn, she’s horny!”
“What I wouldn’t give to swap places with that machine!”
“God, she’s a randy little slut!”
“Look how slick the dildo is with her juices already.”
“Think she’ll squirt?”
I heard two clangs from the vending machine. What now? A young man and woman stepped up to me long enough to attach two vibrating clamps to my rock hard, tingling nipples. Oh fuck, that felt good. I let out a deep groan, and there was a gentle ripple of laughter.
“Come on babe, ride that cock!”
“Imagine a cock in your backside too!”
I did. I imagined the buttplug was a big man roughly fucking me from behind, and the ball gag was a cock fucking my little rosebud mouth.
The dildo was pounding in and out now, almost lifting me off my feet. My entire body was tingling, and the vibrator was buzzing so hard I could hear it, and on the end of my bouncing tits, my nipples felt like they were on fire.
My vision began to blur, my breaths became short pants, and my legs were quivering. A huge orgasm was spreading from my clit, out to the tips of my fingers and toes, waves of hot and cold washing over me. I was twisting my body, riding that hard plastic cock towards the cliff-tops, and then suddenly, I was over, free falling, my stomach lurching, my cunt clenching, and I think I peed a little. My mind went completely blank, and my knees gave way, so that when I came to, I was hanging painfully from my wrists, impaled on the dildo that had stopped pounding, and was just gently rising and falling.
I also realized I was in semi-darkness – the lift was lowering me down below ground again.
Alone in the Dark (His perspective) [MF][bd][Mdom]
This is a companion piece to ‘Alone in the Dark’
—
You’re alone in the dark until I enter.
I open the door as little as possible, so not enough light falls on you for me to see you, and I close it quickly.
I stand there silently, giving my eyes time to adjust, until I can see the discreet glowing stickers placed on the frame you are strapped to. There are just enough of them that I can orient myself and find you, but you have no idea they are there.
My feet bare, I softly pad toward you, and silently place some of the items I’m holding near your feet, then move around to your left side. I can smell your delicate, floral perfume. I wonder what you look like. What colour is your hair, your skin, your eyes? I’ll never know.
I gently place my hand on you head. You start in surprise. You weren’t even sure anyone had come in, were you? I stroke your hair, thick and lush, and bend to smell it. Clean and fresh.
Alone in the Dark [MF][bd][fsub]
I’m alone in the dark.
I’m bent over a wooden frame, a padded leather block supporting my hips, another under my shoulders and upper chest. My arms are stretched out ahead of me, my wrists secured to a post. My legs are spread, and my ankles shackled to the frame. I’m wearing just a plain white bra and panties.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. Two, maybe three hours. Plenty of time to think about what might happen, who might use me. A man or a woman, men or women. Would they use me gently or cruelly? Caress me or whip me? Call me ‘sweet thing’ or curse me as a filthy whore? And when?
I’ve run though numerous fantasies in my head, sometimes thrilling, sometimes frightening, but always ending in damp panties.
It’s pitch black, not the slightest hint of light, and completely silent.
Abruptly, a click from behind me, and a shaft of light as the door opens, then darkness again as it closes.
Did someone come in? No matter how hard I strain, I can hear nothing but my own heartbeat.
Rachel and Roxanne, Ch3 [FF][MFF][spanking][chastity][oral][sm]
Dear Diary,
Well, today I learned about a practice I thought had died along with the middle ages, and a lot more about my own desires…
I was sitting at the bar in that cosy little place up on the top deck. A couple of guys had tried approaching me, but they didn’t do anything for me, so I politely turned them away, saying I was waiting for someone.
A woman sat down next to me, and gave me a brief nod. As she looked down the bar to see where the bartender was, I took a quick look at her. She was blonde, slim, very pretty, maybe late twenties, in a long black dress. I could tell that, like me, her tits were pert enough not to need a bra.
The bartender quickly noticed her. “What can I get you?”
The woman glanced at my drink. “That looks good,” she said, smiling at him, “I’ll have one of those.”
“Coming right up,” he said, and turned to prepare it.
She turned and smiled at me.
“That felt brave,” she said, “what did I just order?”
“Cosmopolitan,” I replied, smiling back.