This is a rather old piece, that never seemed to go anywhere. Rather fantastical. Bits of it seem quite hot, though, so here it is.
“This is how it works - I had it from Katie - she said this is what they did with her, anyway“
J was half whispering, half giggling - we were outside, on a break - J was a smoker then.
“You go to this certain bar on a certain night of the week - I don’t remember which - and you dress a little slutty - heels, short skirt, bare belly, lots of make-up. And there’s always a few of those guys there - those fifth floor guys. And anyway, you act like you’re amazed to see them, and they say they want to buy you a drink, and you sit with them, and they buy you drinks, and they start talking dirty, and you just giggle, and act nice, and they start feeling you up, and you let them. And then. Then ..” She is beginning to lose the giggle now - it’s getting serious;
“And then - what??“
“And then .. Then they take you out in back and gang-fuck you - all of them …“
“They what?!?“
“They fucken GANG-BANG you! Honest to god that’s what she said - she said it was real harsh.“
We were silent, then I said;
“And that’s it - you get a job on the fifth?“
“Uh-uh, no. Get this - you have to go back and do it again - like two or three times - and it gets worse - more like they rape you - and act like you like it, and say thank you afterwards, and lick their dicks clean, on your knees. Then, if they like you enough, you get a job on the fifth.“
“I don’t believe it - she’s shittin’ you!“
“I guess - but .. why should she? Make herself out to be such a whore?“
“Well, she fucken IS a whore - she works on the fifth!“
We laughed, but our laughter was a little spooked. This was so severe, it had to be the truth. We were shocked, I guess - me more than J, who was a tough cookie - but I was a nice, simple girl, and to find out that what was going on on the fifth floor was so extreme was really disturbing. I began to wonder if I should be working in such a place.
It was fairly common knowledge in the firm that girls on the fifth floor were there to serve the men on that floor (and some of the women, too, it was rumoured) - to serve them with their bodies. But none of the girls ever complained, and the company had a good reputation, and paid well. None of the men on the fifth ever molested any other girl in the company, there was never anything too obvious and everyone seemed to accept the deal, however bizarre.
Somehow, I couldn’t get the picture of Katie out of my mind: on her knees, licking the dicks of men - virtual strangers - who had just raped her. She was a fantastically elegant, beautifully turned out young woman, a little older than us, whom J and I were secretly in awe of, for her cool sexiness. Of course, we knew she worked on the fifth, but that just added to her mystique. And she wasn’t the only one - many of the girls from the fifth were impressively sexy - without looking like obvious sluts - understated, sexy, expensive elegance was the look, and mostly they carried it off. It was just that we knew Katie from before - she had been a few years above us in high school, and we had been cheerleaders together.
It was so weird that she had allowed that to be done to her - for what? Well - there was the salary, of course - everyone knew that the fifth was the top of the firm, that the wages were sky-high - the company was doing well - it made sense. Was that it? I didn’t think it could be.
Whatever, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that night, not the next day. J, as usual, was thinking about something else - some new boy - she wasn’t interested in talking about it any more.
“What? You wanna do it? Is that it?“
We both laughed, but I felt weird. I felt myself blushing, looked away.
That weekend, though, in the quiet of my little apartment, I realised it was true. I did. I DID want to do it - do whatever it took to work on the fifth. More; I had to admit to myself that I wanted to be the girl in the picture in my mind. The girl on her knees, crying, bruised, stocking ripped to shreds; on her knees, carefully licking clean the cock of a man who had just been forcing it into her pussy. The girl who would soon be working on the fifth, wearing expensive designer lingerie and shoes, the girl who everyone knew was an expensive, bought-and-paid-for, sex toy. I rubbed myself feverishly, shuddering as I came.
The next day, I told myself it was just a fantasy - a dirty, sexy fantasy - there was no way I would really do it.
But that night I was bringing myself off again.
And the night after that I was checking my wardrobe, wondering whether I had a slutty enough outfit.
The day after that, I saw Katie leaving early, as she often did (another perk of the fifth - but I wondered, did she have responsibilities - assignments - outside work hours?) I made some excuse and got out in double quick time, and caught her in the car-park. I realised that her little sports car was seriously high-end.
“Oh, er .. Katie - hi.“
I was blushing like crazy - had no idea what to say. But Katie seemed to understand. She spoke slowly, softly, almost tenderly;
“So … it’s you, Suzy. Hmmm?“
“Umm yes! Yes .. hi!” and I giggled to cover my embarrassment, pretending not to know what she really meant.
She let the silence grow, then;
“Would you like a lift? I’m going to the mall, if you wanna come along?“
And I slid into the passenger seat, feeling awkward and scruffy in that car, next to Katie’s svelte form, in the designer skirt suit that was somehow so sexy, while still utterly business-like.
There was a long silence, as K drove. At last, she put me out of my misery;
“So J told you, huh?“
I couldn’t speak.
“She told you .. what I did - what I had to do - to get a job on the fifth?“
“Umm .. yeah.” was all I could manage .
More silence.
“Do you want it?” Her voice was very quiet, soft. She left a long gap; and it went on so long, that I found the space I needed to say it;
“Yes. Yes. I do .. at least I think I do .. ummm ; what you said.“
She didn’t repond, and the silence grew, until I realised she wanted to hear me say it; and from somewhere came a slightly jittery, but determined, voice that sounded a lot like me, saying;
“Yes. Yes I do - I do want it.“
I had said it out loud - it was out in the world. and I knew that a part of me, at least, was satisfied - pleased; excited. I had to see what was in her face, and looked up. She was smiling at me; a soft, sad smile, and there were tears sparkling in her eyes;
“Oh, baby. Are you sure? I mean .. all .. all this -” she indicated the car; “- all this is nice. I don’t know if I would do without it now. And .. the other - too. The fucking. I .. I really like … to be fucked .. and .. and .. used. I do. It .. it would be harder to live without that, I guess. But you ..“
Another, long silence “Suzy - are you sure?“
At last, I heard my voice, like a stranger’s;
“I .. I don’t think I am sure. Not .. not really. But .. but I think I’m going to do it anyway.“
More silence;
“I .. I.. Please, Suzy - don’t. I .. I told J on purpose - wanting to get one of you hooked - her, I thought. They’ll give me .. I mean I’ll get .. I’ll get money, and um .. other .. things- for … for getting you - if .. if they like you. I wanted that. But - don’t Suzy - don’t do it.“
To this day I don’t know if she was playing me, but whatever, it worked. I was quivering, on the verge of tears myself, but I looked at her and smiled;
“Do .. do they .. hurt .. you?“
She smiled too, a soft smile, and I saw her quiver a little;
“Yes. Yes, they hurt me. Often. But .. it’s OK. I .. I don’t like the pain - well, maybe a little .. .. but .. I .. I respect them for being hard with me - I mean - it’s right that they should be .. harsh .. with me - they really are … such people - so .. strong. And .. and it turns me on, too. Really turns me on. Suzy, I am such a dirty slut - you don’t know the half of it. And .. and I want it - I guess I even love it - love being used like a slut, love making myself into a more perfect slut every little way I can. Suzy .. Suzy I think they have fucked with my mind .. I mean - I .. I was like you - I had to try it - but now .. now - I just need it.“
And this little speech, which should have made me run a mile, whatever I had been feeling before, instead fascinated me, made my heart beat faster - made me wet between the legs.
K was obviously feeling a little worked up, too, judging from her pink face, fluttery breathing and the way she was squirming in her seat. She giggled when she realised I was watching her;
“You’re right - I’m turned on - so-o-o- turned on, just thinking about it. I think I’m going to get seriously fucked later tonight - three guys are flying in from HQ, and I’m part of the entertainment - I’m going to buy a new corset .. and .. and they told me to buy a whip, or something that they can hurt me with - I’ve got to buy it myself and give it to them as a present! I am going to so be screaming and begging for them if they use it on my pussy! Is that ever fucking hot?“
I was breathing hard myself, but I knew what I wanted;
“Can .. can I come - to the mall - with you - will you help me buy something .. something they will like?“
And she let me. We had a great girly shopping hour, giggling and looking at things I would never have looked at on my own.
I ended up with a short pleated skirt, very flippy and slit on one thigh. Above it I would wear a sort of bustier thing, quite short and very tight, that had a sort of quarter cup but no more, over which we found a lovely little tie front blouse.
“No bra?” I squeaked
“Nope.” she said, firmly; “But you do need a pretty thong and some hold-ups. Come on!“
The next day, though, I had serious second thoughts. It was all crazy - I must have been mad to go with Katie - and to see her get so turned on talking about how badly they treated her! It was too weird, and definitely not for me.
I managed to tell myself that for 48 hours.
And then it was Thursday - the night Katie had told me would be right. I spent the whole day “not thinking” about it, avoiding J. In the end I went home early with ‘a headache’.
As soon as I got into my flat I began touching myself, and soon I was kneeling on the hall carpet, moaning as I brought myself off. I told myself that that was what it was - a powerful sex fantasy - that I didn’t need the reality. But an hour later the ‘not thinking about it’ was driving me nuts, and I took a shower. After that, it seemed natural to do a long, thorough beauty routine - plucking, shaving, toning, blow-drying my hair.
And then, of course, I decided to try on my new outfit, with the opaque white stockings just above the knee, the wedge heeled strappy shoes, the make-up, the hoop earrings.
And then I was dialing for a taxi, heat thumping in my chest, knees weak, but with the realisation in my heart that I was going to give this a try, whatever happened.
It was a dark, windy alley, the bar lights the only thing that brightened it up. As I paid off the driver he said;
“Not sure if you’ll be safer on the street or in that bar, Miss, that I ain’t.”, and laughed as he drove off.
Myself, I felt terribly vulnerable, dressed in so little, standing in the street, and so I made for the bar.
Inside was warm, with pools of light, and cheesy but welcome music. The clientele - mainly men, mainly business types, mainly older - are not too threatening, although as I move through to the back it is clear that things get raunchier, and there are younger men, and more young women, some of whom are dancing. The waitresses wear short skirts and frilly white blouses, midriffs bare.
I am attracting a little notice now, and am getting quite nervous, when I see a face I recognise, at the bar. I don’t know the man, but I’ve seen him walk past on the way to the lifts - he’s a fifth floor guy - a fairly handsome 40-something with a good build. Suddenly, I begin to quiver all over - I slow to a crawl. I daren’t look at him. My heart is pounding.
I hear him speak; “I know that face - my gosh! Fancy seeing you.” And he is next to me , and I have to look up, as he takes my hand.
His grin is genuine, but cool - it is me that is excited, nervous - not him - he has done this before, and will do it again. There is amusement in his eyes at my inability to speak;
“Now, what is your name, pretty girl? No, don’t tell me - I’m good with names … Sue .. Suky! That’s right isn’t it?” (and I nodded - allowing my name to be changed from Sue to Suky, just like that).
“I thought so; and all sexily dressed for a night out. Gosh - you can see why we have such a strict dress code at M-corp! With foxes like you all around. What a distraction you’d be, dressed like that all day! Do you have a minute? A few of the guys would like to see you I’m sure - this way!“
And he indicates the way and follows me - like a perfect gentleman. We round the partition, and four men are staring at me, my heart thudding, I try to smile at them, try to look good. Are these men really going to drag me into the back and gang-bang me? I feel they are stripping me with their eyes. But the reaction is cool, again. Three of them turn back to their conversation after my guy introduces me as; “Suky from the first floor - she’s gonna have a drink with us - that’s right isn’t it?” and I nod, foolishly.
He fetches me a stool, and I sit, opposite the men on the upholstered benches. He goes back to the bar for my drink, and I sit, staring at my feet. No-one speaks to me - they are all deep in work discussions - but I can feel their eyes on me, and, after a minute, I realise that I need to do something - but can’t think what. I end up shifting position nervously . How can they be ignoring me when the way I’m dressed, the fact that I’m here, means I am offering myself to them? Are they so spoiled? He returns with my drink. None of them have introduced themselves. I’m trembling. I’m so terribly grateful that he speaks to me when he hands me the drink.
“A sexy drink for a sexy girl!“
And I giggle, ridiculously.
“I’m so sorry, Suky, but that stool is my seat - place is so busy, there aren’t any more. You’ll have to sit on my lap.“
He is completely matter-of fact, and I just blush, and giggle, and stand, letting him handle me as he pulls me onto his lap. The others look up, and grin, I blush and giggle some more, beginning to get quite breathless; it is really going to happen! I can feel his cock, semi-hard, under my bum, one of his hands is on my thigh, the other at my waist, casually proprietorial on my bare skin.
He joins in the conversation on one side of us, ignores me, although one of the others is getting a good look at my cleavage and the way my unrestrained breasts move in the thin blouse, and then he glances down and I realises he can see a good deal of thigh as well.
The guy I’m sitting on moves a little; adjusting position, and his hands pull a little. He is moving my arse on his cock! He pulls me again, without the cover of moving, and I don’t resist. In only a few moments, he has me giving him a sort of lap dance! And I can’t stop without it being really obvious, but at the same time, carrying on will be really obvious too!
I do as he wants a few times, but then I can’t carry on - I’m too ashamed - my heart thudding.
“Don’t stop.“
That was him! He spoke to me - said it out loud! I am bright pink.
“What do you mean, ‘don’t stop’?” says the next guy. My guy laughs; “I’m talking to Suky here - she was doing a rather nice move with her ass on my cock, weren’t you pretty?“
I would jump up, now, but he has my forearms in his hands, gently, but firmly. And now they are all looking, and I want to die of shame, but at the same time, I suddenly want to show them, and, lowering my eyes, leaning forward a little to emphasise that he has me restrained, blushing, I begin to slowly move myself on his lap, feeling a complete slut, knowing they are watching, and liking it more than I could ever have guessed, at the same time as feeling desperately embarrassed.
It lasts for a few second before he laughs; “Enough! I can’t come in my suit, you know! Here - choose someone else to torture!” And they all laugh as he pushes me upright, and I laugh a little, nervous laugh, and smile as I look quickly up, needing them to see that I am willing. In fact, I am shamefully eager.
I’m blushing, and shaking, but it doesn’t occur to me to leave, or do anything but look down at the table for what seems like a long time. Dressed like this, doing what I had just done - and no takers! I was beginning to feel desperately weak and vulnerable when J says;
“C’mon guys, she’s not that much of a dog! Take pity on the poor girl!“
But there is nothing but general laughter - they are looking me over, enjoying my shame, my humiliation, and I am about to begin to cry when another man - behind me - puts one arm round my waist, the other across my breasts, grabbing me with relaxed confidence, breathing in my ear “Well now you’re a pretty handful! If there are no seats here, come to the bar with me.“
Turning, I realised I was being manhandled by none other than one of the younger VP’s - T, a man I had always thought was handsome and very attractive, and I followed him to the bar readily. He had just arrived, with a couple of others. He found a stool for me, and I perched myself on it, aware of his keen gaze as I arranged myself, horribly conscious of the short skirt riding up.
“Don’t crush the pleats on that pretty little skirt;” he said; “- flip it up at the back. That’s better!” He smiled as I blushingly obeyed, feeling the cool leather on my all but naked buttocks.
“I mean, I guess you do have panties on? You’re not gonna get the upholstery damp are you?“
His tone was light, and I giggled, but he was serious too, so that I had to answer;
“Yes! I mean .. I mean no!” and giggled again, heart fluttering. Was he going to be rough-fucking me in the back room later? I was finding it hard to breathe evenly.
“Well now I’m confused. Are you wearing panties or not?“
The bar was loud, and I don’t suppose anyone could hear, but I was convinced everyone around knew exactly what he was saying to me, and my affirmative answer was smothered in giggles and blushes. Again, he laughed - with me, or at me? But when he said;
“Show me.”, there was a seriousness in his eyes, and I knew I would have to. And, even weirder, I felt deeply grateful to him for asking me, for making it impossible for me not to obey, and I found myself ignoring my instinct to give him a quick little flash, instead parting my thighs and slowly lifting the little skirt high, horribly ashamed but also glorying in his interest, in the amazingness of the experience. Giggles gone now, replaced by a breathless, mounting sexual tension. I’m going to get gang-banged - I really am!
“Sexy panties! I like. Don’t you dare cover up, now, you little tart - open those legs a little wider. Hey, buddy, can I ask you something?” He patted the arm of the man standing next to him, who turned, took in the scene and said ; “Holy..?“
“Pretty, isn’t she? I wanted to ask you - should I get her to take them off now, or later?“
I was burning with shame, but somehow, I had to meet the eyes of the stranger, and looked shyly up at him, again giggling pathetically before stopping short, biting my lip, cringing a little - making it seem like I was some sort of bimbo, weak; accepting my position as a stupid slut being taken advantage of. It was incredible. I had enjoyed being a cheerleader, and sometimes felt an exhibitionist thrill, but I knew I was liking this too much.
I was consumed with the need for them to like what they saw, desperate for them to find me sexy. I was pleased I had bought new panties - skimpy, sheer, lacy white ones that were only a little more than a G string, and made it obvious that I trimmed my bush neatly.
In the end, three other guys were laughing and joking about the merits of me keeping my panties on, or taking them off for him later, and, unsurprisingly, they voted for removing them as soon as possible. And all the time I had my skirt prettily raised for them.
T nodded at me, and I knew I had to do it - obey him, and take my panties off, in front of these strangers. Right now. And again, I was grateful for the opportunity, full of willingness, grateful for their interest, wanting them to keep wanting to watch me - all trace of feminine power gone from me.
And I smiled, a small, nervous smile, beginning to be frightened of this now, stood up and slid them, slowly down my legs, feeling absolutely more alive than ever before - all mixed in with the embarrassment and nerves.
“Leave them there, pretty - I don’t think you’re gonna need ‘em.” Laughter, more blushes, but I meekly sat down on the stool again, and at the merest wave of a finger from T, spread my thighs and lifted the skirt to show my naked pussy to these strangers, my heart bumping in my chest, again, for some reason needing to look up, to let them see into my eyes, to let them know I was pleased to be showing myself to them like this; a willing slut.
“OK guys, show over, we need to return to our friends. See ya now!“
And he led me back toward the tables, incredibly conscious of being naked below the short flippy skirt, of having just flashed my naked puss in a public bar; of being very turned on.
He stopped me, halfway, backed me against a wall - gently, but firmly, and lifted my chin with a finger, so that he could look into my eyes.
I was so nervous, and giggled again - such a weak little sound - it frightened me that I was so weak. At the same time it was like an aphrodisiac - to hear myself so obviously offering myself up to whatever use they wanted of me!
I couldn’t meet his gaze for long, dropped my eyes, but he pinched my chin;
“Look at me. Better. Now, listen, pretty girl.“
“If you leave right now, there will be no trouble. Just a little flirtatious behaviour on a night out. but if you stay, it gets serious. Look at me!“
.. and he stared deep into my eyes, relentless.
At first it was just embarrassing, but after a while I suddenly knew he was looking for something - that if he didn’t see it, that this would end. I felt desperate then - I didn’t know what to do, how to be, whether to speak or not. I just about managed to keep my eyes on his, trembling. Whatever it was he saw there in that moment of my weakness must have satisfied him, because he grinned. He leaned forward and spoke softly, close to my ear;
“I have a feeling you’re going to make it very easy for us, aren’t you? Easy for us to degrade you, to abuse you, to turn you into an eager piece of company pussy. Am I right?“
He stood upright again, looking at me in that direct, relentless way again, and his words rang in my ear, and I found myself looking into his eyes again, wanting to see how earnest I was; nodding, speaking eagerly, breathily, stumbling;
“I .. I hope so ,, Sir.“
My cheeks were on fire; my pussy was tingling, hot. I would have fucked him there in front of everyone. I bit my lip. He laughed a little, then;
“You know we’re going to get you to beg us to hurt you. you know that, don’t you?“
I hadn’t thought it through, of course - I was here on a gut feeling, not a reasoned plan!
“I .. I guess so .. Sir.” I added the sir after noticing a little glint in his eye. God but I loved how powerful he was, how sure. I let my shaky breathing make my chest heave, not hiding it at all - wanting him to see my breasts move, feeling like a dirty slut, terrifying myself at how fast it was all moving. He grinned at me, letting me know he knew what a tart I was, and I blushed still deeper, but smiled shyly, too, pleased beyond all reason that he had noticed my tits.
“So tell me. Tell me you want me to hurt you. Hurt your breasts, hurt your sweet pussy. Put my belt between your legs. Beg for it. Right now.“
I was trembling, but I didn’t hesitate;
“Please .. please sir, I .. I beg you to .. to hurt me - to .. to put your belt across my .. my tits and .. and between .. between my legs.“
He smiled at me now, and his hand was suddenly at my pussy, almost immediately sliding two fingers, three deep inside me: god I was so wet! I knew an impulse to clamp my legs together to prevent this, but I made myself stay soft for him. He leaned in again;
“You seem to find that quite a turn-on, pussy. So think on this: today it will be the leather end. Next time, it will be the buckle. After that, a real dog whip. Remember to scream sexily for me.“
And then he was walking again, leaving me to follow him.
This time, back at the table, all was different. There were a few more men, and they looked at me blatantly. There were a couple of fifth floor girls too, being very obviously groped, and very obviously freely accommodating it.
He pointed me in the direction of a fat slob from accounts, and whispered in my ear; “Go tell him you’ve no panties on; give him a good time.”, and then, out loud;
“Sam, I’m sending you a little present. Be demanding with her - she likes it!” and pushed me.
Edging round the table, I was brushing hard up against different men, all of whom were happy to cop a feel, until I arrived at Sam. I straddled his lap, as he wanted me to, facing him, and smiled weakly, heart hammering, feeling the rough material of his trousers on my naked puss.
He smiled and grabbed my ass, and I wriggled a little for him, feeling horribly self-conscious and vulnerable. Knowing that T was watching, I leaned in and spoke quietly into his ear;
“T wanted me to tell you - he had me take my panties off.“
This was somehow the hardest thing I had had to do yet, and I was quivering, shaking, as both his hands found their way under the short skirt, one to cup my ass, the other straight to my wide-spread pussy. It was like electricity. My head went down onto his shoulder and he pushed me backwards, to make it easier for him, incidentally making it 100% obvious to all the other what he was doing. And my hips were rolling, uncontrollably. He was mauling me without any finesse, but my pussy was hot and the whole situation was too much for me - I stopped thinking for a while, and when I knew what was happening again, he had two fingers inside me, and had ripped my blouse open so he could fondle my tits.
“She has a great rack, guys!“
And with that, there was a growl from his neighbour; “Pass her on Sammy - you’ve had your turn!“
Sam slapped my ass genially, and said; “You heard the man, pussy. Go see Joe now. Off you go!“
And he had me stand, my skirt still rucked up, my blouse hanging open, his hands holding my wrists, and turned me to face Joe - and, of course, the rest of the bar. There seemed to be hundreds of people, all looking at me, somehow more than naked, and there was a little whoop of applause, in the lull after which a cool voice said;
“Why don’t you use your tie, Sam, and lash her elbows - it’ll save time later.“
It was a woman’s voice, Ms F, from the fifth floor. A finance director, very powerful, absolutely beautiful in a strong, buttoned-down way - my boss up the line, in fact.
Just a week before I had been in a meeting that she was observing, and had spoken, and afterwards she had given me a positive comment, encouragement.
And now here I was, skirt rucked up, tits hanging out above a slutty corset, bare thighs above sexy stockings and heels, being handed from one man to another while she looked on. My shame reached new heights. At the same time, I had a burning need to look attractive, to be desired, and I held myself as prettily as I could while Sam tied my elbows behind my back, leaning forward so that my breasts would sway, letting my hips roll, blushing and trembling, giggling a little..
It seemed that Joe, when I had stumbled over to him, only wanted to cop a feel, then pass me on to another guy for more of the same, and I soon found myself standing in front of Ms F, taller than me and with a cool expression that was hard to read.
My heart was thumping, I was horribly pink, wriggling with embarrassment. She let a small smile show, and reached out a cool hand to my sex. The touch of her fingers was like nothing else I had ever experienced. I wanted to die of shame; while at the same time I found myself opening myself for her, helping her to push two fingers deep inside me; unable to hold back a soft, shuddering moan of shame and pleasure mingled.
I was crying too, as I leaned toward her, she taking my right nipple in her other hand, caressing gently, gloriously.
“So my little management hopeful has decided to become a whore instead. How interesting. We’ll have to see how it works out. I shall still want that report on the middle east figures by Monday; whatever else happens. Do you understand?” And she now had two hard, lacquered nails in possession of my tender little clit, threatening terrible pain.
“Ah! uh .. Yes, Madam. Of course Madam!“
The man beside her laughed - “You are the toughest of all of us, F!“
“Oh, I think this one likes it - don’t you pretty?“
I had no real idea what she meant, but as at that point she did something incredible to my pussy, all I could do was gasp; “Yes - oh ! Yes!“
Which brought more laughter, more shame.
“I think this pussy is ready to be fucked. Is that right, pretty?“
How could I speak when she had three fingers in my sex and was pinching my nipple? I finally managed to say “es .. Yes, Madam.“
“OK, pretty, Steve here is going to need to record your consent.“
And, in a corner of a sports bar, with my tits still hanging out, my elbows tied behind my back, my boss’s fingers in my pussy, I found myself reading from the small screen of a mobile phone camera, while it filmed me;
“Hi; I .. I’m Suky, and I’ve only had one drink - I’m .. I’m fully sober. And .. And I .. I want to be gang-fucked. In .. in .. in all my .. my h..holes. I .. I want it .. rough , and I want .. everyone here to .. to use me. H ..hurt me -if .. if they want to. Use me like .. like a wh. whore. Please - I .. I like it.“
“Smile!” went up the shout, and, after a moment of incomprehension, I smiled and giggled for the camera, foolishly proud of myself, but with tears glistening in my eyes. you can see fear, too, alongside the very obvious signs of sexual arousal. I’ve seen the film plenty of times - the guys like to make us watch our humiliations, often, in front of others - and to tell the truth, I like to watch it for myself too - to see how sweet and innocent I looked,… And to get turned on, too, thinking of the way they fucked me, how it was to be used like that for the first time in my young life.
