by Jennifer Harrison
My name is Valerie and I’m a slut.
It’s not something I’m proud of, in fact I’m ashamed, disgusted by myself, but it is just a fact that I have to acknowledge. This realisation came to me relatively late in life – the grand old age of twenty-five in fact – and now I’m writing about my shame and humiliation, telling the whole world - or at least those who are interested - what a skank I am. Why? I could say it’s a cautionary tale, to warn off others, but the truth is much more prosaic – confessing my ‘sins’ to a wide readership will be publicly degrading, and that will serve to feed the arousal I always feel when I suffer such abuse, even at my own hand. Sick, huh?
I’m not a particularly attractive woman. My figure has usually been described as boyish or, by more erudite observers, androgynous. The word I would use is shapeless – no boobs, no waist, no hips. When combined with my short, straight, boring black hair and thick glasses, I’m not what you’d call a great catch. People have pointed out the occasional redeeming feature - my plump, cupid’s bow lips, or my nicely rounded bum - but that's just family and close friends trying to make me feel better.
Not that that has stopped me having my fair share of boyfriends, or losing my virginity at the ‘acceptable’ age of seventeen – neither too young to be slutty nor too old to be desperate. I’d even had a long-term relationship, with a guy called Mark, for three years. I’d really thought he was the one, right up until he’d told me he wanted me to move out to make room for his new girlfriend, Angie. Devastated, I had made the mistake of asking him ‘Why?’
“Honestly, Val?” he said with a cruel smirk, “because she looks better than you do, and she fucks better than you do.” What a bastard!
I couldn't afford to run away like I wanted to, I had to take a small rented house on the outskirts of the market town where I worked as a fairly lowly paid legal secretary at a firm of solicitors called Hollander, Smith and Johnson. I used to see the happy couple if I went out to pubs and clubs, so I stopped going out. Not that I could afford it any more, now that most of my income was going on rent. I became pretty reclusive, and hardly saw anyone, let alone prospective dates, over the next couple of years.
One day I was walking home from work, not being able to afford to use my car every day, when the heavens opened in a tremendous summer downpour. I was quickly drenched, my blouse and skirt plastered against my body, my best shoes getting ruined. There was no point in running home, I was already soaked, and I trudged along miserably. Just then, a car pulled up just in front of me and the side window wound down.
My mother taught me to never accept lifts from strangers and, despite the dreadful conditions and the prospect of another half an hour of walking, I leaned down to say ‘thank you, but I'm fine’. In fact, I got halfway through my little brush-off speech when I realised that the driver smiling back at me was none other than Alan Finch, the famous, and famously gorgeous, actor (names have been changed although, as you will find out, there are no innocents here to be protected).
"Come on, jump in!" he said as I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Something in my brain said ‘okay, well he's not a stranger, he’s Alan Finch!’, and I opened the car door and got inside.
"Where can I take you?" he asked, and my immediate thought was ‘anywhere you like!’ Mutely, I pointed in the direction towards my house, so star-struck that I was unable to actually form words.
"What's your name?" he asked with a smile. My name? What was my name? I do have a name! I know I do! I just… couldn’t take my eyes off that ruggedly handsome face with its designer stubble, framed by dirty-blonde hair, black T-shirt barely containing the ripped torso, blue jeans emphasising rather than concealing the bulge at the crotch…
“Er… I er, !’m, er, Valerie,” I managed to say once I'd dragged my eyes off him, "thanks very much for the lift, if there's anything I can do in return…"
"Well, ur-Valerie," he said as he pulled to a halt where I had indicated, "why don't you ask me in for a drink?" I blushed at his mocking, but then became even more excited at the thought of having this famous actor in my house.
"Oh, yes!" I gushed, fumbling with my seatbelt, "yes please! I mean… would you like to come in, Mr. - I mean, Alan?" I didn't give him a chance to refuse, piling out of the car and dashing to the front door. My hand was shaking a little as I tried to get the key into the lock, but eventually I had the door open and I went inside, feeling his presence behind me.
"What w-" My enquiry died on my lips as I turned and found him only inches away from me, looking down into my face.
"You really ought to get out of these wet clothes first," he said in a quiet but firm tone. I looked down and watched, mesmerised, as his hands went to my neckline and, slowly and deliberately, unfastened the buttons of my blouse. When he had them all undone, he pulled the wet material off my shoulders and down to my elbows, pinning my arms to my sides. As I looked up, he bent down, and our lips met in a soft, passionate kiss.
My heart was pounding and my ears ringing as I felt his tongue work its way into my mouth. By the time I had recovered my senses even a little, the blouse was on the floor, quickly followed by my skirt. I stepped out of my shoes, losing another inch or two in height, and I craned my neck, reaching up for another kiss.
"These things are wet too," he murmured, sliding my bra straps off my shoulders. As if in a daze, I reach behind my back and unclipped my bra, before tossing it to one side. In the meantime, his hands had slid down my sides and pulled my panties down to mid-thigh.
"Wow, that's one hairy bush!" he laughed, "I haven't seen anything like that since the last time I watched a 70’s porno!" I blushed furiously and looked down at the floor, feeling ashamed at my lack of personal grooming. I only ever trimmed my pubic hair when I was going to be in a bikini, and I hadn't had a holiday in quite a while, so there was the best part of two years growth there.
"No, don't get me wrong," he said gently, a finger under my chin turning my face up to look at him, "I like 70’s pornos." I gasped as I felt his long, slender fingers running through the short, black curls and pressing the soft flesh underneath.
Suddenly, he picked me up in his arms and carried me towards and then up the stairs, like some romantic hero, and I put my arms around his neck, trying to ignore the fact that I was stark naked whilst imagining I was the innocent heroine in a Jane Austen novel. He took me into the room I indicated and put me down gently on the bed. I was panting like a bitch in heat, which was about right - I hadn't been in a situation like this since… well, forever if truth be told. I looked up at him, standing over me, unable to move or speak, just hoping…
He got on the bed and leaned down to kiss me again, our tongues and saliva mixing while his hands roamed across my breasts and stomach, reaching down as far as my pubic triangle. My nipples rapidly hardened under his gentle touch, but then I thought I was going to explode when he moved and applied his lips and tongue to the task. I wantonly spread my legs as his fingers parted my pussy lips, exploring the terrain beneath the dark forest. I actually let out a cry, half scream, half moan, when he changed his position again and his tongue sought out my desperately eager clitoris for attention.
I writhed underneath him as he spread me wide open and ran his incredible tongue over every millimetre of my tender, sensitive flesh. He soon had me moaning and crying out in ecstasy, driven to orgasm in a way I had never experienced before. I squealed in delight, clutching at my hair reflexively, feeling my cheeks burn, my mouth forming a perfect O, then closing so I could bite my lip. The waves of pleasure crashed over me seemingly without end until, finally, my body went limp and all I could do was pant for breath.
By the time I had recovered, he was standing over me, stripping out of his clothes, revealing his magnificently toned body, just like I'd seen in several TV dramas. My eyes were inevitably drawn down to what I had not seen on the TV, and I was not disappointed! He was, in my humble opinion, and based on a not very wide sample, big. It was only semi-erect, but it looked bigger than anything I'd had before - not that, in this case, size was important, it was so long since I’d had anyone, almost anything would do!
"Okay, Valerie," he said as he got back onto the bed and lay back, "climb on board and I'll take you for a ride!" Quickly, I straddled him, lowering myself gently onto his rock hard erection, letting it slide slowly into my well-lubricated hole. I threw back my head and let out a low moan as it sank deep inside me, filling me more completely than I could remember ever having been before.
"That's it, girl," he urged, staring up at me, "move back and forward on me, give yourself pleasure!"
I did as he commanded, luxuriating in the feeling of him moving inside me, in and out as I bounced gently on top of him, pressing against the walls of my vagina as I rocked forwards and backwards. My eyes were closed and I was already making quite a lot of noise when I felt his hands reach up and grab my breasts, squeezing them firmly, almost to the point of pain, but heightening my arousal to new levels.
"God, you look beautiful, Valerie," he breathed, squeezing my breasts a little harder and pinching my nipples, "riding my cock like the slut you are! How does it feel?"
"It… feels… incredible!" I panted, and then I was cumming again, screeching at the ceiling as my pussy clenched down on his gorgeous member, juice squirting out of me as the climax racked my body. I had never experienced anything like this before - I was lucky if I had one orgasm during a night of love making, and never more, so this was uncharted territory. This one seemed even more intense than before, I'm not sure whether that was because it was my second in rapid succession, or because I had his prick inside me, but I was trembling by the time it finally passed and I collapsed onto his chest.
"Oh, thank you, Alan," I gasped, "that was the most amazing experience of my life! I've never felt pleasure like that before!"
Without a word, he flipped me over onto my back and got into the classic 69 position with me underneath him. I couldn't believe that he was carrying on, I'd thought that was it for the night, but then I realised that he hadn't even cum yet, and I spread my legs eagerly. I wasn't very experienced at oral sex, but I was desperate to please him, and I quickly took him deep into my mouth. When I felt his lips and tongue back at my already-overstimulated pussy, I set about sucking and licking him with great enthusiasm.
"Whoa! Whoa, girl!" he cried out, pulling away from me, "what the hell are you doing?! You are really bad at giving head!" I felt mortified at this clearly heartfelt criticism, and I blushed bright red in embarrassment and humiliation. I couldn't believe that I was going to drive him out of my bed because of my appalling fellatio technique!
"Okay, let's try a different position," he said as he sat back on the bed and pulled me over his now fully erect member.
"You have to love this thing, Valerie," he said with a smile, stroking my hair, "I know I do! So start off by getting your lips and tongue nice and wet with saliva and then coat my prick with it."
I did as he instructed me, licking him from his balls to the tip of his cock, pressing my moist lips against his shaft and oozing saliva all over it.
"That’s it, that's the way," he said encouragingly, "now take just the head into your mouth and tease it with your tongue. Mmmmm, very good, Valerie, we’ll make a cocksucker of you yet!"
I felt good when I heard his praise, and I did exactly as he said, pulling back his foreskin and running my tongue all around the head of his cock, letting my mouth flood with saliva as my lips formed a seal around the shaft.
"Excellent, good girl," he moaned, "now take it in as far as you can, all the way to the back of your throat. Try to control your gag reflex…"
There were still a couple of inches outside of my mouth when I felt myself retch as the tip of his cock touched the back of my throat. I had to pull back and cough to one side to stop myself from throwing up.
"Don't worry," Alan said, stroking my hair, "that's bound to happen at first. You’ll get the hang of it after a while. Okay, give it another go."
He guided me back into place and pushed gently on the back of my head until his shaft was once more buried in my mouth. I moved back and forth on him, using my tongue and lips as I did so, and I was soon rewarded with his moans of pleasure. As I continued to work away, I felt his prick jerk, and I knew that he was about to explode. I’d never actually made a man cum with just my mouth before, so I'd never tasted spunk, and didn't really fancy it then either! I started to pull back, but his hand pressed the back of my head more firmly, preventing me from disengaging.
Suddenly, I had a mouthful of thick, warm, salty, and frankly disgusting-tasting cum. As Alan let go of me, I ran with bulging cheeks into the bathroom and spat the foul liquid into the sink, grabbing the mouthwash and rinsing thoroughly.
"Dear me, Valerie," Alan said as I wandered back into the bedroom, "you did a pretty good job for what was obviously your first time, but you'll have to swallow the next time, can't have you running off all the time, can we?" There was going to be a next time? I couldn't believe how amazing this night was turning out, and the idea that there would be another night like this! Wow!
But I didn't have any time to dwell on that, as he pulled me back onto the bed and climbed on top of me. I was amazed that his cock was still erect, even after his climax, I just wasn't used to this! Moments later, he was on top of me and inside me, thrusting away so violently that I had to hang onto the headboard to stop my head banging against it! Now we were both grunting and groaning, him at the effort that he was putting in, me at the pounding I was receiving. This time, we both came, me digging my nails into his back as he pumped his seed into my well-used pussy.
"Oh, Alan," I sighed as we lay together on the bed, "that was so, so good! I've never had sex like that before!" As I drifted off into a contented sleep, a stray thought wandered across my brain - I wonder if he'll give me an autograph now…
I awoke in a state of confusion as I felt a sharp pain in my wrists. As I open my eyes, I realised that I was now lying on my stomach and that my arms were stretched out between the bars of the headboard. To my shock, I saw that the cause of the sudden pain was that Alan had wrapped a leather belt around my wrists and was now buckling it tightly in place.
"Alan?" I said muzzily, "what are you doing?" He didn't answer, or even look at me, just finished tightening the belt and then walked around behind me.
"W-why did you tie me up?" I stuttered, "what are you going to do to me?!"
Again, he didn't answer, but climbed onto the bed and spread my legs wide apart. I felt his fingernails dig into my buttocks as he pulled them apart and then he spat on me, a great gobbet of saliva sliding down between my cheeks. His fingers smeared the slimy liquid around my anus, one of them even pushing inside. Suddenly, I realised what he was going to do and why he had bound my wrists.
"No!" I cried, "not there! I've never… I don't want… Please don't!"
With his knees between my thighs, I couldn't pull my legs together, and there was nothing I could do as he held my hips tight and pressed the head of his erect member against my virgin sphincter. There was no gentle easing or sliding into place - once he had it lined up, he rammed his shaft into me in one violent thrust, bringing a scream of agony from me. Over and over he slammed his cock in and out of me, ignoring or, for all I knew, enjoying my screams, interspersed with desperate pleas for him to stop. I was in agony, but I also felt humiliated at this violation, feeling that I was being punished for acting like such a slut earlier. I felt tears come to my eyes, and then roll down my burning cheeks.
He was grunting with effort as he sodomised me far more violently that he had fucked me earlier. It was awful, so painful, so degrading, so humiliating to be used as his fuck toy with no choice in the matter. I cried, and screamed, and grunted, and… moaned… and gasped… Somehow, it became… arousing. The longer it went on, the easier it seemed to become, his cock sliding in and out of me more rapidly, the pain, while still there, being overwhelmed by the strange sense of pleasure now coursing through me.
At last, with his sweat dripping down onto my back, he gave one final thrust, one final guttural roar, and I felt him empty himself inside me. As he pulled out and fell back onto the bed, I could feel the strange sensation filling my body, making me feel… warm. It wasn't an orgasm, it felt more like I had just enjoyed several hours of foreplay, and would be more than happy to enjoy several more. I tried to pull my arms back and felt the tight leather bite into my wrists painfully, but it only added to my sense of arousal, leaving me tingling all over.
"Did you enjoy that?" Alan asked in an amused tone as he lay beside me.
"Fuck off!" I replied hotly, "untie me, you bastard!" I let out a squeal as he slapped me sharply on the buttock. But then he began to run his fingers up and down my back, across my cheeks, and between my legs. Soon I was fully aroused again, and he knew it.
"Admit that you enjoyed that," he said in a stern tone, "or I'll spank you properly."
"Okay! Okay, I admit it!" I responded reluctantly, my cheeks burning with shame, "I enjoyed it, I enjoyed it all!"
Apparently satisfied with my confession, he quickly dressed, with me still bound to the bed. Just when I thought he was going to leave me there, he unfastened the belt and put it back around his waist.
"Y-you're leaving?" I said, failing to keep the dismay and disappointment out of my voice. He didn't even look around.
"Will I see you again?" I asked desperately as he reached the bedroom door.
"Maybe," he replied, looking around at me with a cynical smile on his face, "if I've got no-one better to do!" With that he was gone, and I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the front door slam, then the engine of his car roar into life and race away.
I let my head slump forward into my hands. I felt so stupid! Anyone with half a brain would know that a guy like that would see a girl like me as just a bit of fun for a one night stand. He had taken exactly what he wanted, and I had let him.
But, gradually, I realised that I had got exactly what I wanted as well, and I wanted more. I wanted to see him again, I needed to see him again. And I knew that I would do anything to experience these same feelings again…
* * *
I was a mess for the next few days. At work, I couldn’t concentrate, and at home, I just kept running to the window every time I heard a car approach. I’m not sure whether I was hoping it was him or not, I felt so conflicted about that whole evening. On the one hand, I felt ashamed of myself for giving in to him so easily, and also incredibly angry with Alan for taking advantage of me in such a cold and cynical way. But on the other hand, it had been the sexiest night of my life, I had never felt more alive, or experienced as much pleasure. I was conflicted alright.
It was after a couple of days that Mr Hollander called me into his office. I felt alarmed, as the senior partner rarely dealt with low-lifes like me, and I took the seat he offered me nervously.
“Is everything… alright, Valerie?” he asked, clearly as uncomfortable about this conversation as I was.
“I… er… I… what do you mean, sir?” I mumbled like a naughty schoolgirl, feeling my cheeks redden. He looked at me over his glasses with an expression which said he really didn’t want to be doing this.
“You’ve always been a good worker, Valerie,” he went on, and I waited for the ‘but’. “But over the last few days, you’ve really let things slip. Simple mistakes, forgetting routine tasks – errors which could have cost this firm a lot of money. You seem distracted, your mind on other things. Is everything alright at home?” I squirmed in my seat, knowing just how bad I must have been for Mr Hollander to get involved.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I replied, my eyes on the floor, “I realise I’ve let you down. I have had something on my mind, but it’s over now, and I guarantee I won’t let it affect my performance any longer.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he smiled with obvious relief that this was over, “but if there’s anything we can do to help, please just let me know.” I flashed him a brief smile as I left and went back to my desk, puffing out my cheeks and trying to relax. I determined to put Alan Finch firmly out of my mind, and knuckle down – I definitely couldn’t afford to lose this job.
“Hi, I’m here to see Mr Hollander?” I looked up sharply at the familiar voice, and a feeling of dread crept over me when I saw him standing in front of Mr Hollander’s PA’s desk. It had been a week since my dressing-down, and I’d managed to keep my head down and concentrate – now he was here! What the hell did he want?!
“Follow me, Mr Finch,” Susan said, standing and leading him across the open-plan office to Mr Hollander’s door.
“Mr Alan Finch to see you, sir,” she announced, before standing aside to let the star pass. As he did so, he looked around, directly at me, a half-smile on his face, then was gone. My heart was pounding and I could feel my cheeks burning.
“Did you see who that was?!” Susan hissed at me and Fiona, the other secretary, They began twittering and giggling like schoolgirls, commenting on how he was just as good-looking in real life as on telly, and asking all the same questions as me – what was a big star like him doing in a sleepy town like this and, in particular, why was he coming to a small firm of provincial solicitors when he must have agents and big city lawyers already? I was sure it had to be something to do with me, the coincidence was just too great, but I had no idea what it could be.
He was in there for forty five minutes , when he only had a half-hour appointment, and he gave me another smirk as he left.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, sir,” Susan jumped in as soon as the door was closed, “but what does Alan Finch want with us?” Mr Hollander smiled indulgently, trying to pretend he wasn’t just as affected by the cult of celebrity as everyone else.
“He recently moved into the area, and wants some help purchasing a parcel of land from a local farmer. Now, show’s over, back to work everyone.” As he had been speaking, his eyes had roamed the room, but when he stopped and everyone else looked down to get on with their jobs, his gaze locked on mine and held it for what seemed like an eternity, his expression inscrutable. I felt my cheeks burning and I reached for my glass of water, but missed and sent it tumbling, spilling all over my desk and dripping onto the floor. By the time Sue, Fiona and I had mopped up the spillage, he had gone back into his office and closed the door.
“Are you alright, Valerie?” Susan asked, reflecting the boss’s enquiry the week before. I tried to reassure her it was nothing, but I had to retreat to the ladies’ room to try and pull myself together.
The next few days until the weekend were difficult, but I got through them without any major foul-ups. I knew I would have to keep myself occupied over the next two days, to stop myself obsessing and driving myself mad over HIM, and I started with a three-mile run on Friday evening.
I had just slumped down on the sofa and was rehydrating with swigs from a water bottle, thinking that a hot bath and a glass of wine would send me to sleep nicely, when I heard a car. I resisted the urge to jump up, but when the vehicle pulled up and stopped, I was at the window in a flash. It was him! By the time he reached the door, I already had it open.
“Come on,” he said peremptorily, “I’m taking you to my place.” I’d thought this exact scenario through so many times, and at this point I would always tell him to show me some respect and to go away until he could come back with an apology for his atrocious behaviour the last time we met.
“Um… er… let me just change into something more…”
“Why?” he said dismissively as he turned to leave, “I don’t want you for your dress sense.” I grabbed my keys and scurried after him.
The journey, only a few miles but transporting me to another world, one of opulence and riches, was completed in silence. The house, set in its own grounds, was impressive from the outside and even more so once we went in.
“Very nice!” I gushed, rather awestruck, “are you going to give me the grand tour?”
“It’s just somewhere to live,” Alan replied disinterestedly, leading me into the lounge, which was bigger than my entire house, and sitting on the couch, “why don’t YOU give me the grand tour? Strip!”
I was taken aback by his abruptness, but the commanding tone seemed to be impossible to disobey and, after only a momentary hesitation, I found myself pulling off my trainers, sweat pants, T-shirt and underwear, to stand naked before his appraising stare.
"Okay,” he said, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his erection, "let's see if you have learnt your lesson from last time about sucking dick. And remember - swallow, don't spit."
Moments later, I was sitting alongside him, his balls in one hand, his shaft in the other, and his glans in my mouth. There was no hesitation, no reluctance on my part this time, I was eager to show him that I was a star pupil, good at taking instruction as well as orders. I could say that I wanted him to like me, to appreciate me, and it's true, I did want that, even though I knew deep down that he would continue to treat me with contempt, he had no respect for me, I was just some piece of tail to him. But my real motivation was that I wanted to be good at this, I wanted to be this sexual being that could deliver and receive intense pleasure. I wanted to be a slut.
So I gave him the best blowjob I could, using my lips and tongue all along his erect member, even experimenting with licking and sucking his balls, which he seemed to enjoy. I took him deep into my mouth, to the edge of my throat, fighting hard to keep my gag reflex under control. Soon, he was moaning with pleasure, wriggling in his seat, thrusting his hips up at me as he approached his climax. But I backed off, reducing the stimulation I was providing, making him wait.
"Oh, you bitch, that's good!" he groaned, his hands running through my hair, fingers curling and straightening as the waves of pleasure coursed through him. I took him deep again, then began whipping my head backwards and forwards, dragging him rapidly towards orgasm. He let out a guttural cry, grabbed my hair, and then exploded in my mouth. The taste of his cum still made me feel sick, but I forced myself to swallow it all, every last drop, before I let his softening cock escape from my lips. I straightened up and smiled at him, proud of myself.
"Very good, Valerie, I'm impressed," he smiled before standing up and pulling me to my feet. "Let's go upstairs and continue this in the bedroom."
His bedroom was an impressive size, and the bed was enormous. I crawled into the middle of it and lay back, watching him undress. A was amazed at how quickly he has recovered his sexual vigour.
"Turn around and get on all-fours," he ordered brusquely. It was obvious what he was going to do, but I seemed to have reached a level of submission where I would do anything for him, and I got into position without complaint. But I couldn’t remain silent.
"Please be gentle, Alan," I begged, looking around at him, "please don't hurt me!" I got a firm slap across the buttocks and a ‘shut the fuck up!’ for my troubles, and I dropped my head down on the bed, screaming into the pillow as he thrust his manhood into me as violently as he could.
He rode me roughly, fucking my arse like an animal, grunting with the effort and making me scream out my pain. But, just like that traumatic first time, a strange pleasure began to be mixed with the pain, turning my cries of anguish into moans of desire. I had raised my head from the pillow now, my eyes closed and my mouth open, the only sounds other than the animal noises coming from our mouths that of our thighs slapping wetly together, and then I heard something else, across the room. I open my eyes and turned to look, and saw…
"M-Mr Hollander?!" I squealed in shock, "what are you… Alan! Stop! Please don't!" I straightened up and tried to pull myself away as my boss walked slowly across the room towards us, his face stony.
"Get back down, bitch!" Alan shouted, pushing me violently between the shoulder blades until I fell back down onto my elbows, still staring at the man now standing only a couple of feet away from me, staring down at my sweaty, naked body. My cheeks flushed bright red as the terrible humiliation of my position washed over me. I could not speak as our eyes locked, while all the time Alan continued to bang me, rocking me backwards and forwards, my breasts swinging free below me.
What was he doing here?! Why was he just staring at me?! I couldn't make sense of it, I couldn't speak, and I couldn't stop Alan fucking me. This was so embarrassing! So humiliating! So demeaning! What must he think of me? Well, I was pretty sure that he was thinking what a dirty little slut I was.
And he was right! Somehow, the fact that he was staring down at me, watching, judging, just fuelled my arousal even more and, as Alan continued to thrust deep into me, I felt the pleasure become something more, the feelings inside me were building, rising to a crescendo and, as Alan began to shout out his climax, I was also crying out loud as my orgasm burst within me. It seemed to last forever, each violent thrust into my rectum causing another mini-orgasm to shoot through me, until at last he was spent, and I collapsed onto the bed, panting for breath, my eyes still locked on those of the older man standing over me.
"See, I told you she was a fucking slut, didn't I?" Alan said breathlessly.
“W-what are you doing here, sir?" I asked Mr Hollander nervously, trying to cover my naked body with my hands, despite the fact that he had just watched me fucking right in front of him.
"Mr Finch – Alan - made some fairly outrageous allegations about your behaviour," he said coldly, "and I decided to find out for myself if they were true. It seems that, if anything, he understated the depths of your depravity!" I blushed furiously at this hurtful remark, secretly wondering what it had to do with him in the first place, it wasn't like I was on company premises or doing it in company time.
"Employees in our firm have to be above reproach," he went on, "we deal with highly sensitive, personal and private information. Fraternising with clients is a straight sackable offence!” Oh fuck, he was going to fire me!
“However, I’m sure we can come to an… accommodation.” I watched in astonishment as he unfastened his trousers and brought out his very stiff cock!
“I see that Viagra’s working for you, old man,” Alan sneered. but then he grabbed me, flipping me onto my back and spreading my legs. Suddenly, I felt my boss grab my hair, pull me around on the bed until my head was hanging off the edge and, as I cried out in pain, he forced his erection into my open mouth, reducing my cries to muffled gurgles. Moments later, Alan thrust into my wet, receptive vagina, driving in to the hilt and forcing my legs up into the air and over his shoulders.
This wasn't love-making, it wasn't even a blowjob, I was being fucked hard between my legs and fucked hard in my mouth. As Mr Hollander thrust in, I began to gag repeatedly, making horrible choking noises each time the tip of his penis penetrated too far.
"When you feel yourself about to gag," he growled, "swallow, as if you were drinking water."
He slammed it into me again and I did as I was told, trying to swallow him. To my astonishment, my throat opened up sufficiently for him to force his way in, driving forward until his pubic hair was tickling my nose. Tears sprang to my eyes in response, and I suddenly realised that I couldn't breathe with his cock in my throat! I felt my whole face redden and I started to panic. I was kind of wedged between the two of them, unable to move away and avoid their ‘attentions’. Thankfully, and before I passed out, he pulled back, allowing me to cough, splutter and noisily gasp down a couple of lungfuls of air.
"Again," he barked, and I found my mouth full and my airway blocked once again. This horrible, frightening process was repeated over and over, until I was dizzy and disoriented from the lack of oxygen. It came as a blessed relief when I heard him cry out and felt his hot seed pumping into my throat. As he stepped away from me, Alan was approaching his climax, filling my pussy with his cream as well, before falling back onto the bed. I lay there exhausted, unable to even sit up.
"I think I need one of those Viagra tablets as well now," I heard Alan say, and I groaned - I couldn't believe that this ordeal wasn't over!
Alan got off the bed and a couple of minutes later, Mr Hollander lay down beside me. I looked over and saw that he was lying on his back, his still rock-hard member standing proud like the leaning Tower of Pisa.
"Get on board and ride him," Alan commanded, but I looked at him in dismay.
"Please, Alan, I'm exhausted!" I pleaded, "I can't take any more!" In response, Alan pushed me face down on the bed and pulled my arms behind me. I felt a rope wound around my wrists, pulled tight, biting into them, and tied off. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, winding the free end of the rope around my face, forcing it between my teeth, stretching my jaws wide.
"When are you going to learn to stop arguing, bitch?" he said, dragging me up and forcing me to straddle the older man, pushing my sore pussy, still dripping his cum, down onto the shaft below me. I let out an incoherent wail as I was fully penetrated once more. Under their threats, I began to move backwards and forwards, up and down, but it wasn't long before my body was once more responding wantonly to the stimulation, and no more threats were required. I let out another cry as I felt my breasts squeezed hard, the nipples pinched and pulled, but it only added to my arousal.
Alan climbed onto the bed behind me and, pushing me forward until my breasts were squashed against the chest of the man below me, thrust his stiff cock hard into my poor, tortured anus, dragging a scream of anguish from my forcibly open mouth. He began banging away at me, making me rock forward and backwards, meaning the cock filling my pussy drove in and out of me as well.
I was being fucked in both cunt and arse, while tied up and rope-gagged, and the effect on me was incredible. With both of my ‘lovers’ now remaining artificially erect, they kept going at me as I was forced to orgasm, then again, and finally a third time, before they eventually let me rest.
Alan untied me, then pulled me off the bed and onto my knees.
"Clean us up, slut," he shouted, and I found both of them standing in front of me, waiting for me to use my mouth on their filthy cocks. One of them smelled of my pussy, the other of my shit, but I licked them clean without argument, alternating between them until there was no sign of cum, pussy juices, or worse. But by that time, both were fully erect once more and, without missing a beat, I continued using my lips, tongue and fingers to bring them off. At the critical moment, Alan pulled my head back and they both shot their load into my face, coating me in their spunk, which clung to my hair and dripped down onto my breasts.
It was only when I saw Mr Hollander putting his clothes back on that I realised it was finally over. Strangely, I didn't feel relief, but an unexpected disappointment. I felt like I was coming down off some kind of drug which had given me an incredible high but now, as the effects wore off, I felt only anti-climax and a vague depression.
"Thank you for inviting me, Alan," Mr Hollander said, shaking the younger man's hand before turning to me, still kneeling on the carpet, still naked and dirty. "I'll see you in the office on Monday. If you continue to perform like this, I'm sure I can persuade the other partners to keep you on." With that, he left, and I was alone with Alan.
"That was the most incredible experience of my life," I said contentedly. We had taken a shower together, dressed, and were now sitting on the sofa, he with a drink, me with my head in his lap.
"I know it's madness to say this," I went on, "it’s way too early, but… I think I love you, Alan." His reaction was immediate and extreme, to say the least. He pulled my head out of his lap by the hair, and then slapped me hard across the face.
"You stupid bitch!" he shouted, "this isn't love, this is just sex. You're my fuck bunny, nothing more. Say that word to me again and that’s the end of it, understand?"
"Y-yes, Alan, I'm sorry," I replied miserably, rubbing my cheek and feeling the warmth from the slap.
"And another thing, while we're at it," he continued, "I don't like you using my name, like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend or something. In future, you call me ‘Sir’. Or ‘Master’, whichever you prefer."
"Yes… Sir," I responded submissively.
"Now get out!" I looked through the window into the darkness.
"Aren't you going to give me a lift home?" I asked fearfully, before adding "Sir?"
"You're wearing your jogging kit, aren't you?" he sneered, "get out, I've got work in the morning."
He sipped his drink and glared silently at me, making it very clear that I was dismissed. I looked back from the doorway, but he was already reading a script, ignoring me. Feeling desolate, I went out into the dark night and began to jog the miles back to my house. It was three in the morning, so the roads were deserted as I made my way home.
When I collapsed into my bed, the tears finally came. Tears of shame at my behaviour, and tears of outrage at the way I had been treated. My throat, pussy and anus were all sore and aching, while I could see and feel the rope marks on my wrists and across my cheeks.
But, even though I was racked with guilt, shame and humiliation, my fingers quickly made their way between my legs, and I brought myself to another screaming orgasm just on the memories of what had taken place that night. As I finally drifted towards sleep, all I could think about was how to make sure that I could repeat the whole experience again…
* * *
I spent the weekend trying to come to terms with what I had discovered about myself. Sex had never been that much of a big deal to me. Yes, I enjoyed it when I did it, but I didn't obsess about it or worry when I wasn’t getting any. I'd never been that bothered about pleasuring myself either, maybe doing it occasionally when I was in a long dry spell, just to keep in practice, as it were.
But when I woke up on Saturday morning, after a Friday night never to be forgotten, sex was all I could think about. I took my dildo into the shower and brought myself off, but with the dildo stuck up my arse and my fingers working on my pussy! I made myself climax twice, but I still didn't feel satisfied, and I had just run out of hot water.
I was still thinking about it when I went shopping that afternoon. I went to the big shopping centre, looking in shop windows to try and distract myself, knowing I couldn't really afford to buy very much. Seemingly inevitably, I ended up staring into the Ann Summers shop, looking at sexy lingerie and chains. I went inside, despite being incredibly embarrassed, and found myself gravitating towards their Bondage section. As I looked at their toys, all I could think about was me in those cuffs or those chains, being subjected to all manner of depravities by Alan, or even Mr Hollander, despite his age and the fact that he was my boss. Or maybe because of those things, I really didn’t know.
When a couple stood beside me, sniggering at the equipment, I felt myself blush bright red, and I hurried out, feeling the eyes of the sales assistants and all the customers burning into my back, whispered comments of condemnation fired in my direction. Or I could have imagined that. But I felt very flustered, and headed towards the toilets, wanting to get away from the crowds. Safely locked in a cubicle, my hand went under my skirt and I felt just how wet my panties were. Knowing how wrong it was, but unable to stop myself, my hand slipped into my knickers and I began to finger myself, forcing myself to the brink of orgasm.
At that moment, I heard someone coming in to the ladies room, and I froze, trying desperately to breathe quietly without panting. The person went into the cubicle next to me, and I knew I couldn't continue without her knowing exactly what was going on. Except I had to carry on and, hardly believing what I was doing, I slipped my wet panties off and stuffed them into my mouth. Now gagged, I resumed my stimulation, legs spread wide, and hanging on to the toilet cistern as I made myself cum.
"Well, really!" I heard from the cubicle next to me, followed by a flush, and then the sound of high heels rapidly exiting the room. It was pretty obvious that I had not managed to be as discrete as I’d hoped, and I felt mortified that some anonymous woman had heard my muffled moans of ecstasy. But I was still terribly aroused. Putting my crumpled, soaked panties back on, I stumbled out of the toilets and went home, still stunned at my own behaviour.
I spent Sunday trawling the Internet, trying to understand exactly what it was that had turned me into some kind of sex fiend. But it seemed that pictures, videos and stories didn't do it for me, it was only the reality, or the memory of that reality, which got me excited. And then, in the evening, there was a knock on my door. With my heart suddenly pounding in my chest, I went to answer it and, to my joy, it was him!
"Alan!" I exclaimed with a broad smile, "it's good to see you again!" His response was a hard slap across my cheek, almost knocking me to the ground.
"I told you not to use my name, didn't I, bitch?!" he growled, pushing past me into the house.
"I'm s-sorry, Sir," I responded nervously, "can I get you a drink?"
"I don't have time for that," he frowned, looking at his watch, "just get on your knees!"
I was rather taken aback by this abrupt command, but when I saw him unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers and shorts, I knew he was perfectly serious. Moments later, I was kneeling submissively in front of him, parting my lips, ready to take him into my mouth. As I tried to look up and make eye contact with him, he grabbed me by the hair roughly and simultaneously thrust forward whilst pulling my head tight into his body, forcing his erection deep into my mouth and making me choke.
He didn't give me an opportunity to demonstrate my learned skills of the blowjob, he just kept thrusting in and out, ignoring the gross gurgling and choking noises coming from me. I gasped for breath when I could, but basically he fucked my face remorselessly, until he reached orgasm. I felt like I was drowning in his cum, swallowing as much of it as I could, but also coughing and spluttering some of it out onto the carpet.
I licked the overspill from my lips and wiped it off my chin as I looked up at him. He merely pulled up his trousers and turned to leave.
"Next time, I want you to be wearing this," he said, tossing something across to me, "and nothing else." I looked down and saw that it was a dog collar - not a specialist piece of bondage gear, which looked like a dog collar, but the genuine article. Thick black leather with metal studs.
"When will I know you are coming, Sir?" I asked.
"You won't," he replied flatly, "but you'd better be ready for me anyway." With that, he walked out and slammed the door behind him. The whole ‘visit’ had been only a matter of minutes.
I felt used, as well as degraded and ashamed of myself. But still I clung to one thing - he would be back! I didn't care what he did to me, I just wanted to be with him. Having said that, I had to admit that I also enjoyed what he did to me!
My next challenge was Monday morning, and seeing Mr Hollander for the first time since our sex session. In the end, it was relatively easy, as he completely ignored me. I went bright red when he walked in of course, but no one said anything - maybe they thought I was getting early-onset menopausal hot flushes! Or maybe they just thought I was so weird that they’d stay out of my way…
When I went home that night, I stripped out of my clothes and put on the collar. It felt very strange, but very arousing - I was dressed as a slave, Alan's slave, and I realised that was exactly what I was. He didn't need chains, he already knew I would do whatever he asked willingly, and the collar was just a token of my submission.
He didn't come that night, and I went to bed disappointed, but still wearing the collar, fingering it lovingly as I fingered myself. This became the pattern of my life - evenings spent naked and hopeful, but usually ending in frustration, days spent with my head down working hard, dreading the approach of my boss or the call to go into his office.
It was the next week before I heard the knock on the door and Alan was there again. I was naked and wearing the collar, but he made no comment, instead turning me away from him, pulling my wrists together and binding them tightly with rope. He thrust a cloth into my mouth, stuffing it in until I was completely gagged, then tying a piece of rope between my lips and around my head to hold it in place.
He bent me over the back of the sofa and shafted me deep and hard in the rectum, making me cry out at the pain, the sound very effectively muffled by the gag. I was soon grunting and moaning in pleasure as he roughly buggered me until he came, filling me with his hot seed. He slumped down on the sofa, his trousers still around his ankles.
"Clean me," he ordered when he had untied the rope and pulled the cloth from my mouth. Meekly, I knelt between his thighs and took his flaccid, stinking cock between my lips. I worked until he was clean and, as he didn't stop me, continued until he was stiff once more. He crooked his finger and beckoned me towards him, before stuffing the spit-soaked cloth back into my mouth. Following his hand signals, I crawled on top of him and took him deep into my eager, receptive cunt.
I rocked back and forth as he lay back and let me ride him, reaching up to me and squeezing my breasts, painfully pulling on my nipples. I came quickly, my cries of ecstasy muffled, my arms still tied behind me preventing me from fully expressing the sensational feelings. As I tried to dismount him, he kept hold of my nipples, silently indicating that I should continue, that he was not yet satisfied, and that my own pleasure or discomfort was immaterial.
So I continued to bounce up and down on him until my thighs were aching, my pussy sore. I climaxed again, before he finally reached his own orgasm and allowed me to slump down on the sofa.
"Be at my place on Saturday," he said briskly as he adjusted his clothing, "seven o'clock, don't be late. And come as you are, naked and collared." When I saw him walking out of the door, I tried to cry out through the cloth, but he ignored me and was gone, leaving me still bound and gagged!
It took me nearly an hour to get free, having to use a kitchen knife to cut through the ropes. When I was finally able to pull the cloth from my mouth, my jaws were aching and my tongue felt like sandpaper. But I was exultant - I had a date! Okay, it was probably going to involve something filthy and degrading, but I would be spending time with Alan, and that was all that mattered.
Surprisingly, I did have to worry about what I was going to wear because, while I was to be naked when I got there, I didn't intend to travel to his house naked! In the end, as it was a warm summer evening, I decided to jog over, so I wore my sports bra, running vest, shorts and trainers, with a small backpack in which to put them when I got there. Feeling a little daring, I wore the dog collar during my run, declaring my slave status to the world, although the world didn't seem to really care - a few cars went past me and I passed a couple of pedestrians, but nobody noticed my slightly unusual adornment.
I arrived at shortly before the designated time, and stripped out of my kit, packing it away in my bag before ringing the doorbell. Although it was a very nice summer evening, the combination of a slight wind and a little perspiration on my body quickly left me shivering and hugging myself to keep warm. Slow minutes passed as I stood there, thankful that the house could not be seen from the road. I was about to ring the bell again when the door opened and Alan was there, looking incredibly handsome in his open-neck shirt and tailored slacks, a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"What's that?" he said, looking suspiciously at my bag.
"I-It's my clothes, Sir," I answered nervously, "I-"
"I told you not to bring anything," he barked angrily, "put it by the front gate until you leave, and be quick about it!" I ran back down the drive, trying to ignore the sharp gravel digging into the soles of my feet, looking to see if there were any pedestrians or cars on the now nearby road. I put the pack down by the gatepost and ran back out of view, returning to the front door.
Alan led me in, taking me straight up to the master bedroom. Without saying a word, he pulled my arms behind my back and I felt the rope being tied cruelly tight around my wrists. But then he went further, and he tied my elbows together as well, almost pulling my arms out of their sockets, forcing me to thrust out my chest. As I tried to come to terms with that, he forced a ballgag into my mouth, lodging it behind my teeth and buckling the strap as tight as he could. He pushed me roughly down onto my knees and then everything went black as he pulled some kind of sack over my head. I was really frightened, wondering what he was going to do to me now, but all I heard was his footsteps walking away and the bedroom door closing. After a few minutes, it became obvious that he had left me alone.
I knelt there for what seemed like at least an hour, too frightened to move - not that there was anywhere I could go or anything I could do. I was blind and helpless, my ragged breath blowing back into my face off the material covering it. But what kept me in exactly the same position was the fear that Alan would be angry if I had moved when he returned, and that he would punish me for it.
I was absorbed in the pain in my wrists, elbows and shoulders caused by the ropes, and that in my jaw caused by the huge gag, when I heard the doorbell ring, followed by the sound of male voices - several male voices. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could hear laughter. What was going on, I wondered. The doorbell rang again as someone else arrived, and it was maybe another half an hour before I heard anything more. But then, the bedroom door opened and the sack was whipped off my head, blinding me briefly.
Alan had returned, and he now clipped an actual dog lead to the collar around my neck, pulling me to my feet by it and leading me out of the bedroom and downstairs. I could hear the murmur of voices in conversation coming from the dining room and, to my growing alarm, I realised this was where I was being taken. Of course, on one level I knew that these men were here to use and abuse me, and I was incredibly excited about that, but on another level, I was overwhelmed with embarrassment, humiliation and self-loathing that I was allowing myself to be treated this way.
"Gentlemen," Alan said, presenting me to the small group, "this is our entertainment for the evening, a very obliging little slut called Valerie. Valerie, you know most of the guys here."
Indeed I did, and my eyes widened in horror. There was Mr Hollander, a broad grin on his face as he raised his glass to welcome me. But alongside him were Mr Smith and Mr Johnson, the other two partners in the firm where I worked! Mr Smith, who was even older than Mr Hollander and rather portly, looked extremely surprised to be seeing one of his employees standing naked in front of him. Mr Johnson was around forty and, by way of contrast, looked absolutely delighted to see me, unable to stop himself staring at my breasts and my pussy. He took a long swig of his beer to slake at least one of his thirsts.
"You haven't met Steve yet, have you?" Alan went on, introducing the fourth and final member of this little get-together. "Steve is Detective Superintendent of our fine local police force. I'm sure you’ll get on really well together." The policeman was probably in his mid to late thirties and was almost as handsome as Alan. But he wore a troubled expression.
"I thought you said she was up for this, Alan," he said, "how come she’s bound and gagged?"
"Sorry, just my personal preference," Alan replied, releasing the gag and untying my elbows, "I happen to enjoy bondage, and this one takes the ropes so well." I pulled at my wrists, but he made no move to untie them, and I did my best to rotate my aching shoulders and move my jaw to try and work out the stiffness.
"Valerie," Alan said, turning to me, "why don’t you tell the nice gentleman what you want to do for them tonight?" I looked around at the smiling, expectant faces focused on me, and swallowed hard.
"I… I want to… to pleasure your guests, Sir," I stuttered.
“And how will you do that, slut?” Alan taunted, with an amused tone.
“W-with my body, Sir,” I mumbled, my head down, “You and your guests may use my body as you wish.” If anyone had any doubts about the night’s activities, that put them to rest.
"So, now we've all been introduced, let's get down to business," Alan said with a broad smile, “I suggest that Valerie demonstrate her newly-acquired oral skills to start. Who would like to go first?”
Mr Hollander started to rise from his seat confidently, but then Mr Smith put his arm across him to block his way.
“Age before beauty, Frank,” Mr Smith said, and Mr Hollander, smiling, held up his hands in submission.
“Go for it, Arthur,” he chuckled, and sat back down. I slowly went down on my knees as the elderly partner approached me.
“Be gentle with me, dear,” he said as he unfastened his trousers, “my wife stopped doing this many years ago.” When his member sprung out, stiff and long, I guessed Viagra was at work again, and I set about my work.
I did treat him gently, carefully caressing him with my lips, and licking him until he was moaning, calling me ‘sweet, sweet girl’ and stroking my hair fondly with trembling hands. It didn’t take too long before he shuddered, his cock twitched, and I found myself sucking down his lumpy seed.
“Thank you, young lady,” he said shakily as he slumped down in his chair, “you’ve made an old man very happy.” As I swallowed the last of the semen in my mouth and licked my lips, Mr Hollander stood up and took up position in front of me.
It seemed they had decided to go in descending order of age, and when Mr Hollander had unloaded in my mouth, I was sucking on the third partner of the firm where I worked, Mr Smith. He was rather more rough with me, gripping my hair painfully and thrusting deep into me, making me choke.
“Go on, you little cunt, suck it!” he sneered, repeatedly blocking my airway with his violent strokes. With my wrists still bound behind my back, there was nothing I could do to stop him, all I could do was try to endure it. When he neared his climax, he pulled out and, holding my head in place with his fist clenched in my hair, he sprayed his cum across my face.
“Take it, cocksucker, take it all!” he growled, smearing the sticky mess around with his fingers, before pushing them into my mouth. I licked them clean, shaken by the aggression and apparent hatred in his treatment of me, but also incredibly aroused by it.
The policeman stood before me next, and I was in such a daze that I didn’t even look up at him, just waited for him to drop his trousers. He didn’t make me wait long, but he made no move to put his cock in, making me lean forward and take him into my well-used mouth. He was long, and I struggled to take him all in, but I fought back my gag reflex and went down on him until the glans was brushing my tonsils. I suddenly felt his hand on the back of my head, forcing his shaft into my throat, frightening me as I fought for breath. Long moments passed before he released me, and I gulped down air desperately, before he tried to force himself even deeper. Now I was frantically struggling to escape, because I really thought he was going to asphyxiate me. But he held me in a vice-like grip as his phallus throbbed and finally exploded, shooting his cum directly down my throat without the need for me to swallow. As he released me, I fell to the floor, coughing, spluttering and gasping like a fish out of water, sharp pains shooting through my abused throat.
“Hmm, I think I’ll skip my turn right now,” Alan said, “I think she’s probably had enough. Let’s move on to my favourite pastime – fucking her arse.” I looked up pleadingly and shook my head no, but when I tried to beg him not to do that, only a pathetic croak emerged, and I cringed at the pain.
Alan pushed me over onto my knees and started to wrap me in rope. My arms were twisted behind my back and held apart, each to its own side of my body, the palms of my hands facing outwards. The rope cut into my flesh, crushing my breasts and squeezing my waist. I felt my thighs tied to my calves, then also to my body so that I was imprisoned by the cord, unable to straighten up, hardly able to move at all, my legs pulled apart, spreading my upturned buttocks invitingly. I was ready, and Alan took full advantage.
The cry I couldn’t suppress as he thrust into me felt like it ripped my tortured throat open, but the violation of my rectum was too painful for me to remain silent. Time and again he rammed his length deep into my bowels until, with an animalistic shout, he pumped his fluid into me. As I felt him briefly slump over my back, his sweaty skin sliding across my own, I experienced a curious sense of satisfaction – I had surrendered myself to my love in the most humiliating and degrading way imaginable, and somehow I was sure he appreciated my sacrifice. Surely, I thought in my befuddled state, his feelings for me must be growing. Moments later he got up, and someone else took his place.
I tried to shut my mind to the pain and humiliation as, one after another, they took their turn to bugger me. But, as had happened before, I found my revulsion and disgust at my abuse gradually overwhelmed by my arousal at being treated like this. It finally reached the point where I was forced to orgasm, my hoarse cries accompanied by tears streaming down my face.
At that moment I looked up to see Alan, a drink in his hand, toasting me with a smile, and suddenly it all seemed to make some kind of sense. I wasn’t debasing myself like this for my own pleasure, I was doing it for him! My suffering was, in some strange way, helping me win him over, to make him love me like I loved him!
Well, it seemed to make sense to me at the time. After all, the alternative, that I really was the horrible, depraved whore they all thought me, was too awful to contemplate.
“Why don’t we move this upstairs, then we can really fuck this slut’s brains out.”
* * *
Alan untied me from the uncomfortable position in which I had been held while each of the five men had buggered me, but my freedom was short-lived. He bound my wrists together behind my back once more, but then turned the collar around my neck so that the D ring was at the back and threaded the end of the rope through it, pulling it until my wrists were held between my shoulder blades. The collar, pulled back by the weight of my arms, pressed hard against my windpipe, making my face redden as I struggled for breath.
"I think I'll take my leave at this point," Mr Smith said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, "I want to thank you for this evening, Alan. In nearly fifty years of an active sex life, I have never done that before, so I have learned something new today - fucking a bound woman in the rear end does have a certain appeal, although I don't think Mrs Smith would appreciate it!" The others laughed at this remark and slapped him on the back as he departed.
So there were only four men left to ‘fuck my brains out’, as Alan had so delicately put it, but they did a pretty good job of it. First, they sandwiched me, Mr Hollander beneath, filling my pussy and, inevitably, Alan behind riding my behind yet again - he really did seem to have an obsession with anal sex! Once they had finished with me, the cop, Steve, and Mr Johnson took over, taking me doggy fashion, the former pounding my cunt, while the latter thrust himself into my throat.
After that, it all became a bit of a blur, with a lot of sucking and fucking going on. By the time they finally ran out of energy and cum, I was utterly exhausted, sore in every orifice, and literally covered in semen from my hair down to my toes. I had lost count of the number of times I had been penetrated and the number of times I had climaxed. When they eventually left me alone, I fell into a fitful doze.
"Wake up, slut, you can't sleep here!" Alan was shaking my shoulder and, when I came to, I found that I had been untied, and the others had left.
"Whu?" I said muzzily, still half asleep, "but it's three in the morning, can't I just stay until morning?"
"No! Now fuck off home!" Alan replied, slapping me hard on the buttock. I got to my feet and, wiping the dried cum out of my eyes, made my way downstairs. After a moment's confusion, I remembered that my clothes were in my rucksack, which I had been instructed to leave by the front gate. I looked around to see if Alan had at least come down to see me leave, but he was nowhere to be seen, and I opened the front door quietly.
It had been a warm summer's day, but the clear sky meant that it was now very cold, and I hugged myself, covering my breasts with my folded arms as I ran down to the gate. I tore at the clasp of the bag with trembling fingers and… Oh my God! There were no clothes in it! Someone had stolen them… or, more likely, removed them purely to add to my discomfort and humiliation! The only things left in the bag were my house keys and a note with the word ‘Haha!’ scribbled on it. Hilarious!
I considered going back to the house, but the door was locked, and if I banged on the door or rang the bell, what could I expect? I was sure that Alan would be angry at being disturbed and would probably hit me and send me away anyway. I suspected that it was him who had taken my clothes anyway, so he was unlikely to give me them back, and if it wasn't him… I decided to stop speculating and just get on with what I knew I had to do. I put the pack on my back and started off down the road towards home.
Five miles, stark naked, in the cold, dark night. As you can imagine, it was a nightmare. I held my breasts to try and keep them warm and also to stop them bouncing when I was able to jog. But my feet, on the cold tarmac, soon became numb, and the cold seeped into my body until everything seemed to be frozen, particularly my fingers, my nose and my buttocks. My teeth were chattering, and I became even more alarmed, as I felt the cold creeping through my pubic hair and starting to chill my pussy lips! I increased my jog to a run, trying to ignore the pain from my breasts and nipples.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of an engine and saw the road around me flooded with light - a car was approaching at speed! In total panic, I turned off the road and threw myself into the undergrowth. It was at that point that I realised that there was a heavy dew that night, and I was lying in thick, wet grass. But I wasn't worrying about that at the time, I was concentrating on the sound of the car's engine slowing down and coming to a halt no more than ten yards from me. I pressed my naked body closer to the ground, trying to hide in the grass.
"I'm sure I saw something," a man's voice rang out in the still air, "maybe it was a deer, but I could have sworn…" I held my breath as I looked back and saw the figure outlined in the headlights take a step towards me.
"Come on, darling," a woman called, "let's get home! I'm sure we can find something better to do than looking for wildlife!" After another excruciatingly long moment of hesitation, I saw him turn back, heard the car door slam, and the car drove away. I finally breathed again, and quickly got out of the damp grass, feeling colder than ever. Disconsolately, I resumed my trek.
When I finally fell into bed, I noticed that clock said 4.15. I was so exhausted, but I couldn't get to sleep because I was still trembling violently from the cold, despite being wrapped in the duvet. It had been the worst night of my life but, as I lay there shivering, I also knew it had been one of the best. With this strange conundrum running through my head, I finally fell asleep.
I was woken by the sound of ringing in my ears. After several moments confusion, I realisde that it was the doorbell, and that somebody was repeatedly ringing it, probably had been for quite a while. I glanced at the clock and saw that it said 7.30, and my immediate thought was ‘why is Alan here at this time in the morning?’ Realising that he would be annoyed to be kept waiting, I crawled out of bed and staggered downstairs.
"Good morning, S-oh!" I started to say before I registered the fact that the person standing in front of me was not the famous actor, but some spotty youth making a delivery! When I saw where he was staring, it occurred to me that I was still naked, and he had a perfect, full frontal view! In a panic, I half closed the door and hid my body behind it.
"I-I have a delivery for you, Miss," the boy stuttered.
"Thanks," I said, holding out my hand to take the package he was clinging on to.
"Er, Mr Finch said I should take it inside, Miss. He was very insistent!" I bet he was, I thought. I opened the door wider, still keeping myself hidden behind it. The boy came in, put the package down on the table, and turned to face me. I let go of the door and put one arm across my nipples, with the other hand covering my pubic area. It was at that point that I remembered that I was still covered in dried cum, some of it making my hair stand up like in ‘There’s Something About Mary’. I started blushing even more furiously.
"Er, the thing is, Miss… he also said I should wait for a tip." I didn't believe this! Alan really wanted to humiliate me, that much was obvious.
"I'm sorry, but as you can see, I don't have any change on me."
"He said that might be the case," the boy said, now also blushing bright red, "but he said you could pay me in kind." After a moment’s confusion, it suddenly dawned on me what was required of me. Finally admitting defeat, I dropped my hands to my sides, exposing myself, and went down on my knees in front of the delivery boy.
He fumbled desperately with the buckle of his belt and, after he repeatedly failed to unfasten it, I took pity on him and reached out to do it myself, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans at the same time. His eager young prick leapt out at me and, as I leaned forward and took it into my mouth, I heard a whimper from above me.
He didn't last long, and his semen was lumpy, like it had been in his balls for a while. As soon as he was done, he pulled up his jeans and, without even fastening them up, he ran out of the door. I should have been outraged at how Alan had manipulated me into that gross act, but instead I found myself smiling as I licked my lips.
I opened the package, and found a note on top of what looked like a very pretty light blue dress. The note said ‘Dress in these clothes, I'll pick you up at 9 AM’. I glanced at the clock and realised that I had less than an hour to get ready! I quickly jumped in the shower and washed away all the crap from the previous night, running the water quite cool to try and wake me up, then quickly dried my hair and applied a little make-up.
I took the dress out of the box and found that, underneath it, were a pair of stockings, a suspender belt, and a pair of high heels in my size. No underwear, I noted as I put on the clothes and slipped the dress on over my head. I barely had time to straighten it and brush my hair before the doorbell rang again. I raced downstairs and opened the door, this time finding Alan standing there.
"Where's your collar?" he immediately demanded, looking angry.
"I-I'm sorry, Sir, I thought we were-"
"Go and put it on," he ordered, "and be quick about it, we've got a train to catch!" I rushed back upstairs, and grabbed the collar, fumbling with it as I raced back downstairs. Alan waited until I had it properly fastened, before turning on his heel and leading me to his car.
"I have an important meeting with a producer this morning," he said, almost conversationally as he drove along, "I thought it might be interesting to take you along."
"Oh, thank you, Alan-I mean, Sir," I gushed, excited at the thought that he might now be introducing me into other parts of his life, beyond just the sex.
We pulled into the station car park and went on to the platform to wait for the train to London. When it arrived, Alan handed me my ticket, then went towards the first-class carriages and I followed him as we stepped up through the door.
"Wait here," he said, indicating that I should stay in the gangway between carriages, while he went in and took a seat.
I assumed that he was going to find a seat for us and then come back to get me, but the train left the station and was soon travelling at maximum speed towards its next stop. Bracing myself against the wall to counteract the sway of the train, I looked down at my ticket, and saw that it was standard class, whereas Alan had gone into the first-class compartment. Once again, it took a few moments for the penny to drop, but eventually I realised that I had, once more, been deliberately humiliated. I was to stand here during the hour-long journey like some second-class citizen, while I could see Alan enjoying the complimentary drinks and snacks, relaxing and reading the paper!
I stood there awkwardly, and my hand drifted up to my neck. I had forgotten that I was wearing the collar, and the thought of all the people who had seen me in it, and would see me wearing it during the day, made me blush in anticipated embarrassment. How could I put up with this, I wondered, this constant humiliation? And I came back to the same two answers - the first was that I would put up with anything that Alan wished, because I loved him. The second? That was evidenced by the moisture on the tops of my thighs and by the constant itch between my legs.
We had been travelling about ten minutes when I saw him walking towards me. Without a word, he took me by the arm and hustled me across the corridor, pushing me into the toilet, squeezing in with me and locking the door.
"Get on your knees," he barked, "you know what to do." Feeling the tears well in my eyes, I sank down onto the filthy floor, pulling the hem of my dress up to keep it clean, and provided him with the oral relief he required. I carefully sucked down every drop of his cum so that I didn't get any on my dress, and then watched forlornly as he zipped up and left without saying anything. I scrambled back to my feet and exited the cubicle, just as a man came along to use it. I went back to my position on the other side of the corridor, and tried to ignore the curious look the man gave me when he had finished.
When we reached London, we took a cab across town and went into a large office block, ascending to the top floor in the lift. We entered a large, open plan office and approached the desk of a very attractive young woman, who looked up and smiled at Alan.
"Hi, Mr Finch, how you this morning?" she said, enthusiastically, "can I get you a coffee or anything?" Somehow, I wasn't surprised that she completely ignored me.
"Hey, Fiona," he replied with a smile, "I'm good! Is your boss in?"
"I'll just check," Fiona said, swinging her hips over to the office door behind her. She put her head inside and I couldn't overhear what she said, but she returned with a smile and nod in Alan’s direction.
"Excellent!" he said, before turning to me, "okay, take your dress off, Valerie."
"W-What?!" I exclaimed in shock. I noticed that the woman did not look up from the work in front of her, which suddenly seemed to be very engrossing.
"Didn't you hear me, Valerie?" Alan said evenly, but the look on his face told me exactly what he was thinking. I locked eyes with him, mine pleading for mercy, his demanding obedience. After only a moment, I dropped my gaze in defeat, and slowly pulled the dress over my head. When I emerged from underneath it, Fiona was by my side, a broad grin on her face and her hand held out. Reluctantly, I put the dress over her arm and watched as she returned to her desk, stuffing the garment into a drawer. Alan beckoned me forwards, and I approached the door with him.
"When you go into the office," he said quietly but firmly, "keep your eyes on the floor and get down on your knees. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir," I murmured as he turned the handle and went in. I followed, eyes down, and sank to my knees as soon as I had cleared the door. I heard girlish sniggering from behind me, and then the door closed.
"Alan, darling, how are you?" I heard, and was shocked that it was a woman's voice! Alan moved past me, and I risked looking up, seeing him embrace and air kiss a fortysomething woman in a very expensive suit.
"Verity! You're looking so well! And as beautiful as ever!" Alan exclaimed as he held the woman at arm’s length.
"Oh, Alan!" the woman twittered coquettishly, "you're such an old charmer! But as I always say, flattery will get you everywhere! Let me get you a drink - Scotch, neat, right?"
"You know me so well, Verity," he smiled, moving over to the large sofa on the far side of the office, while she poured two glasses of liquor from a cut glass decanter, before carrying them over, and sitting next to him. With that, I looked down at the floor again and listened as they chatted, talking about nothing in particular, just catching up, completely ignoring me. It must've been a good ten minutes before Verity turned to look at me.
"Now, what have you brought me, you naughty boy?"
"I know your particular preferences, Verity," Alan said smoothly, "and I thought this little thing might pique your interest, provide a little entertainment for you." Yet another new humiliation, I thought - they were talking about me as if I wasn't there, using me as a bargaining chip in their negotiations. I was nothing more to them than, as Alan said, a ‘little entertainment’ and, while it hurt that Alan thought so little of me, I also found it strangely arousing to be treated as nothing more than a sex toy.
"That's so thoughtful of you, Alan," Verity responded, "is she trained?"
"No, she's a novice really," Alan confessed, "but she's willing. She'll do anything I tell her to."
"Excellent," the producer said, "I prefer fresh meat! And by the time she leaves, she'll do anything I tell her to as well." I glanced up and saw the smile on her face, one tinged with cruelty.
"Now, about that part we were discussing…" Alan started, but the older woman lay a manicured finger against his lips.
"Darling, don't worry about that," she cooed, "the part’s yours, I always liked you for it, you didn't need to bring me this little gift. However, now she's here, it would be remiss to not take advantage of her. You!" I realised she was addressing me for the first time. "Come over here and kiss my feet. No, don't get up, on your hands and knees."
I crawled across the room towards her, feeling totally demeaned by that act, then bent down. I wasn't sure if she meant for me to kiss her shoes, or take her shoes off and kiss her feet, but decided on the former, and tentatively pursed my lips and pressed them against the patent leather surface.
"That's good," she said, before turning her foot up and showing me the sole of the shoe. "Now lick the sole clean."
I glanced up at her, not quite believing that she would ask me to do that, but her face was unsmiling, implacable. Reluctantly, I stuck out my tongue and ran it across the scuffed leather. The shoe was relatively clean, and all I encountered was dust and carpet fibres, which was unpleasant, but manageable. But when she switched, re-crossing her legs so that I could do the same to the other shoe, I saw that she had stood in something unpleasant, although it was difficult to tell what.
I looked up again, hoping that she might relent, but a sly smile had crept across her face - she knew this shoe was dirty, and she was enjoying my discomfort. Once again, I gave in and licked the sole of her shoe. I was relieved that it wasn't dog mess, but I didn't want to think too hard about the disgusting taste, and I closed my eyes as I proceeded to scour away the filth.
"Well done for not complaining, little one," she purred, "now take off my shoes and kiss my feet."
I did as she ordered, and started planting gentle kisses on her stocking-clad feet.
"No, not like that!" she barked angrily, "make love to them with your mouth, like you would if you had your Master’s cock in there!"
I began to suck on her toes, one by one, flicking my tongue around them as I would the glans of a penis, then licking between the toes and tickling the soles of her feet with my outstretched tongue.
"Mmm, very good," she said after several minutes, "you must really like fucking that mouth, Alan. Now, let's get to the main course, shall we?"
She stood up and stripped out of her business suit until she stood naked. Despite being the wrong side of forty, her body was in great shape and she certainly had no hangups about showing it off. She knelt on the sofa, her legs astride Alan, and kissed him passionately on the mouth while his hand came up to caress her breasts.
"You!" she called over her shoulder, "get up here and lick my arse!" While it sounds quite disgusting, and I was also thinking that at the time, I was already very aroused at watching the two of them kissing and groping each other, as well as by being forced to lick her feet, and I clambered up onto the sofa eagerly.
I put my hands on her buttocks and parted them, revealing her puckered little bud, and pushed my face into the cleft, sticking out of my tongue and coating the whole area with my saliva.
"Stick your tongue in, slut!" Verity urged, pushing her cheeks back into my face, "push it in as far as you can!" Without any hesitation, I followed her command, tensing the muscles in my tongue and pressing the tip of it against her tight sphincter. Her ring put up stiff resistance, and I focused all my efforts into penetrating it, imagining my tongue as if it were a penis, trying to violate the woman. This made me even hotter, making me strive much harder, and ignore the pain starting to affect the base of my tongue. At last, I felt the resistance lessen and I slid into her, eliciting a gasp and a moan of pleasure. I felt elation at this success, rather than revulsion at the taste, and I continued to press forward, delving as deep as I could.
"That's fucking amazing!" the woman moaned as she continued to push her rear end onto me. My tongue quickly began to ache, but I didn't care, I was in some kind of zone where it seemed I would do anything, no matter how revolting.
After a few minutes, she suddenly pushed me away, then flipped herself from straddling Alan to sitting on the sofa with her legs spread wide.
"Eat my pussy, slut!" she growled, "eat it, I said!"
I had never performed cunnilingus before, and only rarely experienced it, but I had a pretty good idea of what would provide the greatest arousal. I placed my hands either side of her slit and gently opened her up like a flower. I teased and tantalised her with my tongue, running it over every inch of her glistening, sensitive skin, dancing on the edge of her vagina before diving inside, my lips pressed against her while I reached for her most sensitive spot. I kept this up until she was writhing beneath me, her fingers in my hair, alternately gripping and splaying as the sensations ran through her body.
I felt a rush of power and pleasure at making her lose control like this, in the same way as I had when giving a good blowjob to a man, and I wanted to make it last forever. I heard noises from above me and, snatching a glance, I saw that Alan had stripped as well, and was now kneeling on the couch astride his producer, his cock deep in her throat. The sight of them drove me on, and I began to suck on her clitoris, flicking it with my tongue as if it were a tiny cock which, I guess, it was.
Verity's orgasm was impressive when she came. Her hips bucked underneath me, forcing me to hold onto her as I used my tongue to penetrate her, just as I had done with her anus. I think the rest of her body was also trying to flail around, but Alan was pinning her down. Suddenly, a gush of her juices flowed down her vagina and into my mouth, and I lapped them up greedily, just as I would a man’s cum. Her cries in the moment of ecstasy were stifled by the cock in her mouth, and she was soon occupied in swallowing Alan’s cum instead.
"That was… incredible!" Verity sighed when she had recovered. I had resumed my kneeling position, in front of them while they sat on the sofa, contemplating me.
"Your slut is, as you said, very willing," the naked woman said, "I think I'd like to test her, if that's all right with you?" I saw Alan smile and nod, giving his approval to whatever she had in mind. She stood up and went over to her desk, taking several coils of rope from a drawer and tossing them to Alan.
"Tie her across the table for me, would you, darling?"
"Of course," Alan replied casually, "which way up do you want her?"
"Face up, please," Verity replied, walking over to what looked like a built-in wardrobe, "I want her to see what's coming."
Alan led me over to a small, glass-topped coffee table and made me lie down over it. The table was big enough to support me from my shoulders down to my knees, so my head hung over one end, my legs the other. I watched as he tied my wrists to the bottom of the front table legs and my elbows at the top, then repeated on my legs, tying them at ankles and just below the knee to the outside of the table so that my legs were spread wide. There was more rope, and he used it to bind my breasts at the base so that they looked like small balloons stuck onto my chest, red balloons as they quickly flushed with engorged blood.
"Nice job," Verity said as she stood over me. She had dressed in a shiny black corset which didn't cover her breasts or her pussy, and thigh high boots, also shiny and black. She also wore black gloves, which extended above her elbows, and in one hand she was holding what I thought of as a cat-o-nine-tails from a pirate movie, but I now know is referred to as a flogger. Whatever you call it, it scared the shit out of me!
"Oh, look," she said with mock sympathy as she knelt down by my legs, "the poor thing’s scared! Don't worry, little slut, you get some pleasure as well."
As she said this, I felt her gloved fingers delve into my wet pussy, toying with my clitoris, making me let out a moan of pleasure. But, moments later, my cries of ecstasy were stifled by Alan, thrusting his cock into my open mouth. I sucked on it greedily as I felt the fingers push into my vagina, pressing at my G-spot, that oh-so-sensitive place, driving me wild. I pulled against the ropes holding me, but could make no significant movement, all I could do was lie there and take it.
Alan thrust deep into my throat, while at the same time, I felt myself being filled by three, then four fingers, all wriggling within me. I tried to let out a cry of alarm as I felt the thumb force its way inside me, but I couldn't breathe, never mind cry out. Discomfort turned to pain as the entire hand pushed into me, and my muffled screams rang around the office. I pulled frantically at my bonds, but it was as useless as before. Unbelievably, I felt the hand inside me form a fist and push even deeper. The pain was excruciating, but I suddenly exploded in the most incredible orgasm! At that moment, Alan filled my mouth with his seed, which I struggled to swallow, positioned as I was, and the excess ran out of the corners of my mouth and into my hair. But all my focus was on the fist inside me, moving up and down, causing after-shocks of the orgasm to rip through my body.
At last the hand was removed, and I felt suddenly empty. I managed to raise my head and look down my body at Verity as she held out her dripping glove before my face. Knowing what she expected, I licked my juices from the latex.
"So, that was your pleasure," she said as she stood up and picked up the flogger, "now for the pain!"
I watched in horror as she raised her arm and then brought it down at great speed, the many leather fronds slapping loudly against my skin. There was a second of eerie silence and then, when the pain across my breasts and upper chest hit my brain, I screamed at the top of my voice. With my mouth no longer occupied, the shriek echoed back off the walls. I drew in a deep breath and looked up at Verity, fear rising within me as I saw the look of hatred on her face as she pulled back her arm once more.
I screamed incessantly as the blows rained down, first across my breasts, and then anywhere on my body. I felt the leather bite into the soft skin of my thighs. Tears were pouring down my cheeks, and I begged for mercy in an incoherent gibberish, but there was no respite from the attack. I heard an evil cackle come from my tormentor, and I feared that she was in some kind of frenzy, so excited by making me suffer that she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to. She changed her stance slightly and my screams became even more frantic as the flogger came down between my legs, directly onto my pussy. I was in extreme agony by now, and had lost all control of my body, feeling only the burning sensation ripping across my skin as the whipping continued.
I was still crying and screaming when I realised that the attack had stopped. I managed to raise my head and, through my tears, I could see that Alan was standing in front of Verity, holding her whip arm and preventing her from hitting me again.
"Enough!" he growled, staring into her face, twisted with hate.
"What's wrong?" she spat, contempt in her voice, "do you have feelings for this worthless cunt?"
"No, but I don't want her damaged too badly either," he replied, taking the flogger from her hand. "Fiona!" The young assistant came into the office, looking at Alan questioningly.
"Sort her out, will you, please," he said, pointing at my prone body, "treat those lashes, untie her, and help her get dressed."
"Yes, Mr Finch," she replied, showing no surprise that my naked body was tied to the table and covered in ugly red welts. She rubbed some cream onto them, which made me cry and sob in pain, but did gradually dull it to a throbbing ache. She released me and helped me up, before slipping the dress over my head.
"I hope we're still friends, Alan," Verity said in a wheedling tone of voice. I looked over and saw that they had both got dressed, and that she was pressing herself against his chest.
"Of course we are, darling," he replied, smiling down into her upturned face, "we'd never let a slut like this come between us! Now, remember to send me the script for that part, won't you?"
"No problem, my sweet," she cooed from the door as we walked out of the office and towards the lifts. "Come into my office, Fiona, and bring the crop!" The last thing I saw before the lift door closed was the young woman heading for the office with the punishment implement in one hand, as she pulled off her blouse.
The journey back home was identical to the earlier trip except that, when Alan pulled me into the toilet, he made me bend over and hold on to the toilet bowl, while he fucked me from behind. I tried to stifle my sobs and cries at the pain in my pussy from the beating it had received, but I still reached my orgasm as he pumped me full of his semen. For the rest of the journey, I had to occasionally lift up my skirt and scrape away the cum , which had dribbled down my thighs, sucking it off my fingers afterwards.
Eventually we reached home, and Alan dropped me at my house, not bothering to speak to me or thank me for helping him out. As I leaned back against the closed front door, I thought about the events of the day, and came to an unlikely conclusion.
Despite his appalling treatment of me, I now knew that, at some level, Alan cared about me! Why else would he stop that awful woman from whipping me? He had risked her annoyance, and the possibility that she would spitefully withhold the part that he so wanted, to save me! Maybe, I thought, there was a chance that those feelings would grow into love…
* * *
Finally, I had a plan! I would confront Alan with his subconscious feelings for me, get him to admit to them, and we could go from there, building a more healthy relationship.
Well, that was the plan.
"Come on, Valerie, get your clothes on, we're going to a party!" As usual, Alan had appeared unexpectedly at my door and, as always, I was stripped naked, wearing my collar, just in case he did. On his orders, I put on the blue dress and stockings which I had worn before, and headed out to his car.
"Where are we going, Sir?" I asked.
"It's a surprise, you'll love it!" he replied, smiling. I looked at him doubtfully, wondering if this ‘party’ was going to involve humiliation and sex. Despite my conscious reluctance, my fickle body responded by making me distinctly moist between the thighs.
"I have something that I have to talk to you about, Alan," I said, making myself stick to the plan. "This thing is, when we were in that producer’s office, you-" I was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing, and all I could do was watch as he picked up the Bluetooth earphone and plugged it in.
"Oh hi, Kate!" he said enthusiastically into the microphone, "how are you doing? Yes, I'm good! Yes, I'm on my way, it'll be great to see you there! Oh, I've got to tell you, this amazing thing happened today, you'll never believe it! I went into town…"
To my dismay, he kept up a conversation with this Kate which just went on and on, regaling her with, I would say, not very interesting anecdotes of his glamorous life as an actor. When he did stop talking to draw breath, she obviously returned the favour, and the phone call just went on. When it finally ended, I was about to start my speech again, but he started another phone call, talking to someone called Tom, and proceeded to entertain him with exactly the same stories!
"Sorry, Tom, I'm going to have to go," Alan finally said as he pulled the car into a gravelled drive up to a very impressive house, "just pulling up now, I'll see you in a few minutes. Ciao!" The car came to a halt outside the house, just one more sports car in a row of at least half a dozen, and Alan jumped out, beckoning me to join him.
The front door was opened by what looked like a maid - who has a maid in this day and age? - and she showed us through the rather opulent house and out onto the veranda. There was a group of people, drinks in hand, chatting and laughing together, and I immediately felt out of place. The men, about seven or eight of them, were all casually but smartly dressed, while the women, probably eight or ten, were either dressed in tailored shorts, ridiculously short miniskirts or, in three cases, bikinis. Meanwhile, I was in my frumpy dress, stockings and heels! I had no idea who these people were, although the girls in bikinis looked like swimwear models. It seemed that the younger and more gorgeous the woman was, the more flesh she was showing.
"Alan!" I heard a woman's voice squeal, and my heart sank. "Darling! So wonderful you could come! And you brought your slut with you, lovely!"
It was that awful woman, Verity, the one who had made me lick her out and then whipped me. It was clear the this was her house, that this was her party. She greeted Alan ecstatically, air kissing and hugging repeatedly, then introducing him smugly to her other guests.
"And this is Alan's little ‘friend’… What's your name, dear? Oh yes, Valerie!" I nervously nodded in response to their smiled greetings, and felt all their eyes upon me, assessing me, some judging me in a more friendly light than others. I particularly sensed the glares from some of the older women, while the swimwear models looked rather amused by my lack of glamour.
"You join in," she urged, ushering Alan into the circle, "thingy and I will get the drinks." She linked arms with me and led me back into the house and through to the kitchen.
"I'm so glad you came," she gushed, "I don't know what I would have done without you!" She took a small, lacy apron, down from a hook and held it out to me expectantly. I stared at her, uncomprehending, and looked down at the apron.
"Oh, didn't Alan tell you?" she said with a tone of sympathy, "I asked him if I could borrow you to help out with serving the drinks!" Realisation hit me with a horrible, sinking feeling, as it became clear that Alan hadn't brought me as a guest to the party, but as a servant! Feeling like I wanted to cry, I reached out and took the apron from her, putting it over my head.
"I think you’re a little overdressed, don’t you?" Verity said archly.
"What?!" I gasped as it dawned on me what she was implying, "you've got to be joking!"
"Do you want me to go and get my whip, slut?" The threat of another whipping was enough and, reluctantly, I pulled the dress off over my head, leaving me just as I had been in her office, naked except for my collar, stockings, suspenders and heels. I put on the apron, which just about covered my bush, but left my nipples and buttocks fully exposed.
"That's better," she smiled, "now, let's just ‘accessorise’." She reached into a drawer and brought out a set of leather cuffs, which she placed around my wrists and ankles, locking each one in place. She then produced two lengths of chain with which she joined my wrists together, a couple of feet apart, and my ankles, with a little more slack. She took off my glasses, putting them on the side, and passed me a tray full of drinks.
"Okay, let's go serve some drinks!"
As I came back out onto the patio, there was a round of applause when they saw me, accompanied by a few whoops and hollers. I shuffled over to the group, the chain rattling on the paving slabs, my face red as a beetroot as they all stared at me. With my head down, I went around whilst they took the glasses from the tray in front of me. Finally, I approached Alan. He gave me a big grin as he took his drink with one hand and cupped my breast with the other, flicking and then tweaking the nipple until it stood erect. The others were laughing at this point.
"Where do you find them, Alan?" one of the men laughed.
"I don't find them," Alan replied, moving his hand around to grope my buttock, “I make them, like moulding putty. Valerie, though, you're a natural, aren't you? You love all this stuff, being humiliated, being treated like the slut you are." I managed to go an even deeper shade of red and, as the tray was empty, took the opportunity to run away – or shuffle away, at least – back inside.
However, any hope of escaping or hiding away was dashed when I was met at the door by the girl who had let us in, handing me another tray, this one covered with canapés, and shooing me away with a grin on her face. Feeling completely trapped, I turned and went back to the group, passing between them as they took the food on offer.
As I overheard their conversation, it became clear that they were all in the TV or film business, producers, directors, actors or other technical staff. It turned out that the three bikini-clad lovelies were dancers in a programme produced by one of the men, and they were eager to use this social situation to move their careers into acting. Alan was soon deep in conversation with one of them, a particularly good looking, tall, curvy blonde and, as they moved away from the group to be able to speak more privately, I felt a pang of jealousy. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it felt like this bimbo was moving in on my territory - I was Alan's slut, not her!
Gradually, I became less self-conscious about being naked, in chains, and serving like some kinky waitress, and found myself becoming more and more aroused by exactly those things, helped along by the frequent fondling of my body by the guests, both male and female. As the summer afternoon turned into a pleasant evening, Verity came over and indicated that I should come inside.
"Debbie," she said, calling the ‘maid’ over, "could you get our waitress here ready for the evening's entertainment?"
"Of course, ma'am," the girl replied, taking my arm and leading me inside and through the house. She unlocked a door and led me into the room beyond, closing the door once she was inside. I looked around in amazement and alarm.
"What's this?!" I exclaimed, not wanting to accept what was pretty obvious.
"This is madam's playroom," Debbie responded, "and tonight, you're going to be the centre of attention!"
On one level, the room looked like a den, with sofas, a couple of chairs, two large flatscreen TVs on the wall, and a bar in the corner. But on another, far more obvious, level it looked like a torture chamber, with chains hanging from the ceiling, manacles on the walls, a St Andrews Cross in one corner, and a rack of whips, floggers and canes on one wall. The place scared the hell out of me!
Debbie removed my wrist cuffs, then went to a set of drawers and brought back a waist cincher, which she handed to me and told me to put on. It was shiny and black, feeling like thick, stiff rubber, and I could feel the stays inside it. I put it around my waist and fastened the buckles at the front. The girl told me to lean over and hold on to the back of a chair while she pulled the laces tight behind. Very quickly, I felt my waist being crushed until it felt like it was tiny, and I was struggling for breath. Finally she finished, closing a panel to hide the laces, and I straightened up, feeling just how restrictive the garment was. I ran my hands over the smooth, shiny surface, noticing how it met my skin, leaving slight bulges where it pinched me tight. From there, my fingers seemed to stray naturally, to fondle my breasts, my buttocks, and my pussy…
By the time I had focused on her again, Debbie was standing in front of me holding what I recognised to be a leather armbinder. I turned my back to her and clasped my hands together behind me, as instructed, then felt her pull the leather up over my arms, covering them, until my fingers hit the bottom. She took the straps over my shoulders, between my breasts and under the opposite arm, buckling them to the main body, ensuring that I couldn't shrug it off. A strap fastened around my wrists prevented me from freeing my hands, and then gradually she tightened the laces, pulling my forearms closer until they seemed fused together. My shoulders were pulled back, making me thrust out my small breasts, and she didn't stop until my elbows were almost touching behind me. I now felt seriously restrained.
The girl then fitted me with a head harness which held a ring gag deep in my mouth, the other straps pulled tight across my cheeks, forehead and over the top of my head, with an additional strap underneath my chin, leaving me with no freedom to move my jaws at all. I began to imagine what kind of entertainment I was going to be expected to provide in this kind of bondage.
"Come on then," Debbie said, gripping my shoulder, "time to take your starting position."
She led me to the middle of the room and positioned me facing the door. She took off my ankle cuffs and brought over a wooden bar with shackles at either end. She applied it to my ankles, spreading them almost uncomfortably wide. She took a small chain hanging from the middle of the bar and attached it to an eyebolt in the floor directly beneath me, holding me in place - as if I was going to wander off anywhere otherwise! There was still more, as she brought over what looked like a medical neck brace, except that it was black and coated in rubber, like the waist cincher. She put it around my neck, forcing my chin up and preventing me from looking down, or even straight ahead unless I squinted down on my nose. My ability to move was gradually being reduced, and I felt like I was being transformed from a woman into a sex object.
There was a chain hanging from the ceiling by the wall in front of me, and when she took hold of it, pulling it towards me, I realised that it was on some kind of pulley. She took it behind me and, a few moments later, I heard the whirring of a motor. The chain began to disappear as it was retracted by the electric hoist and, at the same time, I felt my bound arms being pulled up behind me. Soon, I was having to lean forward, and eventually my body was horizontal to the floor, with my arms held vertically above me. I let out a groan as the pressure on my shoulder joints became even more severe. Surely she was finished now?!
Apparently not. I felt her put something into my nostrils, and then there was a thin chain rising from the tip of my nose above my head. As she pulled the chain up, there was a sharp pain in my nostrils and my head was lifted until I was staring straight in front of me at the wall, the weight of my head now supported by my screaming neck muscles and the hooks biting into my nostrils!
Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, I let out a cry as pain shot through me, focused on my nipples. They were now being cruelly squeezed by what I assumed to be some very tight metal clamps.
"There you go," Debbie said as she squatted down in front of me, giving me a smile as she patted my cheek, "all ready for your big performance, darling. Now remember, smile for the cameras, and break a leg!" I saw that she had a remote control in her hand and, when she pressed the button, the two screens in front of me came to life. It took me a moment to recognise what I was looking at, but there on the left was an image of me, shot from the side, showing my extreme bondage position. On the right was a close-up taken directly behind me, framing my buttocks and spread thighs perfectly, giving a perfect view of my pussy!
I watched helplessly as the girl walked away and left the room. I was in so much pain! My shoulders felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, my jaws were already aching, my nose hurt like hell, and my hamstrings were screaming at me. The only part of my body I could actually move was my hips, and I didn't want to swing them about too much because that made the nipple clamps sway and bite even harder. But when I did move, I realised that the images in front of me were live video, enabling me, and anybody else, to see exactly what was happening.
Despite all that, I was incredibly aroused. I could feel the moistness of my sex, so exposed and available, my juices dribbling down the inside of my thigh. I watched the door, desperately hoping that someone - anyone, everyone! - would walk in and use me in whatever way they wanted. I didn't care whether they fucked me or used the instruments hanging from the walls to hurt me, I just needed some kind of physical stimulus.
It was about half an hour before the door finally opened, and in streamed all the people who had been out on the patio, carrying their drinks, laughing and chatting as they came in, looking at me in various combinations of amazement, amusement and excitement. They gathered around me, touching me, fondling my breasts, stroking my buttocks, pushing their fingers into me. The sensations within me went off the scale, making me moan and whine in mounting frustration that all these touches would not bring me to the orgasm I so desperately craved.
"Welcome to my new playroom," I heard Verity say, and I looked up to see her walking towards me. "I'm very grateful to Alan for providing his slut for me to demonstrate with, it's a shame he isn't here to witness it." There was general chuckling at this, but I looked around in alarm, realising for the first time that he was absent, as was the blonde bimbo he had been chatting up earlier. Suddenly, I felt terribly vulnerable - there was no-one to stop this violent woman from doing whatever she wanted with me!
"If you'll allow me," Verity went on, "I'd like to try some of my new toys out on this slut, and after the day I’ve had, I have a helluva lot of frustration to work out, believe me! But after I've had my fun, you're all welcome to do whatever you want with her."
She walked over to the wall in front of me, looking along the line of canes hanging there, and selected one, flexing it between her hands as she walked over and went behind me. I couldn't see her directly, but I could see her holding the cane in front of my buttocks on the right-hand TV. The little group moved back to give her room to swing, and then her arm moved out of the shot before, moments later, reappearing in a blur.
It felt like I had been cut with a knife, like my skin had been sliced open, and I fully expected to feel blood trickling down my legs. I thought she had hit me hard the other day, with the flogger, but this was a whole new level of agony. My screams expressed my surprise, or more like shock, as much as my suffering. And the blows rained down on my poor cheeks thick and fast. The cane strayed from my buttocks down onto my thighs, I'm not sure whether it was deliberate or just a little inaccuracy creeping in due to her concentration on delivering the strokes at speed with such ferocity. Not that it made any difference, it still hurt like hell whether she meant it or not. Tears streamed down my face until I could feel them running over by stretched lips, along with a rather disgusting flow of snot out of my tortured nose.
Eventually, the beating stopped, although my tears and moans continued unabated. But just as I thought the worst was over, I felt her bringing the stick up to strike my breasts hanging down below me. Once she was in position and had got her range, she struck out viciously, tormenting me until it was almost unbearable. Of course, I had no choice but to bear it, I could not get away.
"How are you doing there, Valerie?" I opened my eyes and saw that Verity was squatting down in front of me, wiping the tears from my cheeks and almost looking concerned. I could see that she was breathing quite heavily from the effort she had put into abusing me.
"Now, I've had my fun," she continued, "would you like me to release you? Or would you rather that these nice people take advantage of you whilst you’re completely helpless? Do you want them to fuck you, in any way they feel like? Is that what you want?" It was hard, and it made the hooks in my nostrils dig into the soft flesh, but I nodded my head ‘yes’ as hard as I could, making guttural noises of assent. Yes, I wanted them - no, I needed them - to fuck me!
It was the start of a long night. They took me at both ends, over and over, using me in whatever hole that happened to be free at the time. At some point - I had lost all track of time - they released me, and I cried in agony as someone tried to massage life back into my shoulders. As I lay on the floor, feeling all the aches and pains in my jaw and virtually every muscle in my body, I suddenly found myself underneath some woman who was sitting on my face, urging me to ‘get busy’ with my tongue. I did as I was told, and not reluctantly.
The hours went by, and I serviced them all, one by one, but also two, three, even four at a time. I was tied up in countless different ways, I was suspended by my wrists for a while. I crawled around on the floor from one to the next, using my hands, my mouth, presenting with my spread legs or my spread buttocks, whatever they wanted. I was covered in cum, splashed across my breasts, in my face, in my hair, dribbling from my lips, from my pussy, from my anus. And I orgasmed. Oh dear lord, did I orgasm! Too many to count, too many to remember, but somehow, never too many to satisfy me. I couldn't get enough. I only stopped when everyone else was either passed out or had gone home, and there was no-one left for me to fuck. At that point, I sprawled out on the floor exhausted, and fell asleep.
When I finally woke, I found myself alone in the playroom. Gingerly, I got to my feet, feeling about sixty years old, every joint and muscle aching, and still a horrible pain throbbing through my breasts and buttocks. I pushed my hair, thick with dried cum, out of my face and staggered into the hallway.
"Ah, my favourite cum-sucking slut!" It was Verity, looking immaculate in her business suit and make-up. "I would ask if you had a good night, but I can see you did!"
"Erm, could you tell me, please… where are my clothes?"
"Sorry, dear," she said breezily as she headed for the door, "no idea, try Debbie." And with that, she was gone. I wandered around the house, but could find no sign of my clothes or of the maid-cum-bondage rigger. My head was pounding, I still felt dizzy with tiredness, and my stomach was rumbling from a lack of food.
At theat moment, I saw Alan coming down the stairs, his arm around the blonde bombshell he had been with the previous evening. She looked dishevelled (though not anything like as bad as me) but still gorgeous, and was wearing a tiny summer dress rather than the bikini I had first seen her in. The dress had a halter neck, so I could see that she wasn't wearing a bra and, when Alan leaned in and gave her a long, passionate kiss, ruffling up her skirt and fondling her pert bottom as he did so, it was obvious she wasn't wearing knickers either.
"Hi there, slut," he said as he wandered over towards me, having dismissed his shag for the night with a ‘see you tonight, babe’. "You ready to go?" As I was standing in front of him, naked and still filthy from the night before, it was obvious he wasn't really paying attention.
"I can't find my clothes, Alan," I said in a concerned tone, but I was already talking to his back as he walked out of the door. Faced with the prospect of staying here in this madhouse, or travelling home naked, I reluctantly chose the second option and ran after him.
As we rode along the motorway with the sports car top down, I had one arm firmly clamped across my chest and my other hand covering my crotch. As we drove past lorry after lorry, the drivers gawped down at my naked body below them, honking their horns in appreciation of this unexpected delight. The journey passed with only silence between us, and I don't think it was just the noise of the wind and the engine which left us with nothing to say.
As I got out of the car and realised that Alan wasn't going to come in to the house with me, I knew I had to speak out.
"Alan," I started as I leaned into the car, "I love you, and I'm sure you have feelings for me too, why won’t you admit it?" I was stunned when he laughed out loud.
"Love you?! Just how deluded are you, Valerie?" he spat at me, "you're a convenient fuck when there is nothing better around, that's all. And really, you don't love me! You love being fucked by as many different men in as many different ways as you can get. Admit it, you are just a slut! I think we’re done. Bye, Val." With those last, angry words, he put his foot down and disappeared in a cloud of tyre smoke.
I staggered into my house and threw myself down on the sofa. I sobbed, but no tears came to my eyes. I realised, finally, that he was right. I didn't love him, I was using him to get to what I wanted, just as he used me. I really did want this depraved, disgusting sex to which he had introduced me.
I knew I would never see Alan Finch again. Somehow, I had to come to terms with who and what I was. I had to get control of myself, and work out how I was going to live my life. I knew it was going to be a long and difficult journey…
End of part 1
Copyright© 2014 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.