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Day Work – The Offices of Stevenson’s Cunt and Tit Supply
Man, what a day at the office, she thought. Milla was a Sexretary at SCTS, she’d been doing some photocopying of contracts to be signed over the big Yametese deal when Adrian had found her. She’d been hoping to relax after Mr Stevenson had had his pretty little Yametese slut, Aiko, fist her on his desk. I just wish she hadn’t been so distracted, Milla thought, I was really hoping she’d be as well trained as those native Yametese girls. As it was she’d simply faked a couple of orgasms followed by exhaustion before Mr Stevenson had picked her up by the hair and thrown her out with the other Sexretaries. She envied all those import Yametese sluts though, she felt normal next to them; invisible and undisciplined, export controls meant so few of them made it over here and they all seemed so well trained.
As she’d started the photocopier he must have seen her lack of underwear as an invitation. He hadn’t even bothered to check her FUC sheet as he opened the top of the copier, pushed her face into the glass, and closed the top just hard enough to trap her upper torso inside with her hands and lower legs free to wiggle in alarm. Just another rape around the office, she thought at first, making a good show of some mild distress, but over the next few minutes she learned differently. He was so thorough, so meticulous, and all before he’d even said a word to her. Threats, insults, and violence were unnecessary to a professional Sexretary, but it gave her something to work with as to exactly how she should be being fucked, he was giving her nothing in that regard, not even a slapping.
She was cursing this very lack of information on her rapist’s style when she felt a growing weakness in her knees just before they buckled, leaving her almost limp and dangling from the copier. She’d tried to stand but it was like she’d lost all control of the lower half of her body. Oh gods, I’m just putty in his hands, she thought as he burrowed his cock deep within her and his fingers gently found their way inside her ass. By the time he was done there were enough copies of her O-face being printed out that her line manager wouldn’t be able to complain about a lack of office sluttery from her this quarter.
As she’d stood there panting, legs spread, cum dribbling down her stockings he finally opened up the top of the photocopier. Two of his fingers were still inside her ass, gently teasing her in a way that she’d rarely felt before. If anything warranted her biting her top lip a little, and giving him a little moan for his troubles this was it.
“It’s Milla, right? I’m going out for dinner tonight, and I’d like you to be there. 8pm sharp. It’s a new boutique Chattelandaise place 4 blocks downtown of the Marteau statue. La pute étranglée, you know the place?” he asked, it almost wasn’t a question. There was a controlled level of command in his voice that made her want to get down on her knees and avert her eyes until he gave her commands to follow.
“Yes sir”, she said, still with her face pressed sideways onto the glass, eyes rolling back in her head as his probing fingers found a real weak spot within her. She passed the restaurant every day on her walk to work. She kept meaning to look up what the name meant but never remembered by the time she got home; once more she regretted not taking at least basic whorespeak in Chattelandaise at college.
“Good. Wear something nice.”
She finally got a look at him as he walked away, it was a man easily twice her size, muscular, with neat black hair streaked with hints of silver. She knew him instantly, his name was Adrian Roughwood, and he was the procurement director SCTS had in place to deal with cunts from pre-Slavery nations. He’d proven very resourceful in ensuring some particularly rare and sought after foreign pussy was imported and enslaved; she had to bet that whatever that restaurant was he had a role in helping to get them access to some truly exotic Servesluts. As the thoughts rolled around in her head she involuntarily dropped to her knees, followed by toppling forward onto her face as she realised she still couldn’t actually support herself. She lay there for a while in the copy room, immobile, breathing heavily and dreaming of nimble fingers playing with her soft and willing flesh before she heard the sound of high heels padding into the room across cheap carpet tiles. Please don’t be Miss Venger, please don’t be Miss Venger, for the love of cock please don’t be Miss Venger, she thought, begging the universe to cut her a break just this once. Not that Holly would mind her being used by a procurement director, but she’d have expected Milla to be in the inter rape room getting herself cleaned up by now.
“Hey Milla.” said a voice from above her. Milla rolled over so she could at least see who she was speaking to. Most of what she saw was an utterly astonishing amount of underboob, which really narrowed it down to just one person in the office.
“Hey Kayla.” she said.
“Fun time?” asked Kayla, delicately piling up all the copies of Milla’s face that had somehow spread themselves around the room like post-coital confetti.
“Yeah…” Milla replied, slightly dreamily. The tingling feeling between her thighs made her all the more anxious for the evening.
“Couldn’t keep him going long enough so I could make it a threesome, it’s an easy mark or two on the FUC sheet, you know?” asked Kayla, looking down at Milla and mockingly raising a questioning eyebrow.
“No, he was here specifically for me I think…he invited me to dinner.” Milla replied with a sigh.
“By cock, you’re so lucky!” exclaimed Kayla with a slight squealing edge, “You know Mr Roughwood facefucked me so hard in a meeting once that Mr Stevenson gave me the rest of the day off. He said he hadn’t laughed that hard in ages.”
“Yeah, I kind of get why…not sure I can really move right now. Give me, like, 10 minutes and I might be done with cumming.” replied Milla, fingers gently rubbing between her thighs as she felt the physical echoes of the railing she’d just taken.
Kayla chuckled, “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. You still want this contract copied?”
“Yeah, 5 copies please”
“With or without the lipstick mark on the glass…and the drool on page 7?”
A Trip in the City – E-Ville, near Marteau Square
She tried to hurry to the restaurant, any area around Marteau square was at least a little dangerous. Too many drunk men leaving a bar at the wrong moment and the only thing on the menu would likely be her ass. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d woken up being hosed off by a slavecop while tied to the base of the statue, but she’d prefer to make it to dinner instead.
The evening air was warm and still as she walked, it was one of the hottest days for months, and she was beginning to wish she’d gone for something a little more airy than the white blouse with a round neck, dark skirt, stockings, and her lucky blue heels. She’d worn the heels originally to her SCTS interview, if you could call it that. She’d been plucked from the lineup, told a number of sexretaries had called in sick, and literally thrown into the first floor break room. Six hours later she’d left the building wearing most of a pair of panties, she’d never been able to work out whose they were, a sweater from a local high school she’d traded for a blowjob on the way out, and her nice shiny blue high heels.
She passed a couple out for a walk on the way. He was a similar build to Adrian, the woman was lighter skinned than herself but looked well suited to the crotchless cocktail dress with matching collar and leash. She’d seen the woman eyeing her up on the way past as well, if she wasn’t in so much of a hurry she suspected she might have been able to get a few free drinks out of the pair.
The apartment she shared with 5 other girls was quite a walk from anyone remotely close to Marteau square, and she couldn’t really afford a cab. Times were tight with freedom fees on the rise, and mandatory donations from free women to the SFER Memorial Fund after the gas explosion. Milla’s stomach growled as she walked, she was already skipping lunches to keep her funding goal in sight, there was no way she could have afforded a cab, or even the bus closer to the restaurant.
Eventually the canopy of the restaurant came into view. She groaned at the line, there would probably be a wait for a table even if Adrian had made a booking. Good thing I’m early, she thought, If I don’t get something to eat soon I’m going to pass out.
She joined the back of a line and a ServeSlut in what claimed to be some small percentage of a maid uniform approached her. A heavy metal clipboard was suspended by a chain from each wrist.
“Do you have a reservation Mademoiselle?” she asked in a thickly accented voice.
“I….er…I don’t know…I’m here to meet Adrian Hardwood.” she said, politely. It looked like this Serveslut had already had more than one tip that included a slapping this evening, she didn’t want to make it any worse.
“Monsieur Roughwood?” A smile crossed the woman’s face, and her eyes glittered. “Right this way Mademoiselle…”
“Oh, I thought I was early…”
“Why yes, Mademoiselle, you are, but the sooner we can get everything set for both of you the better; as you can see there’s quite a queue to get in…if you’ll please follow this cunt.”
The Serveslut turned and escorted Milla past the queue and inside. Even seeing the women in the line she felt a little out of place. She was dressed in her very best, and looked nothing but plain next to them. Raven haired porcelain skinned temptresses, blondes with the kind of body she’d only seen on some of the television, and a sultry brunette who was wasting no time by being throat deep on a cock while she waited. Subconsciously Milla licked her lips.
Inside Milla was directed past what looked to be the main area of the restaurant with its elegantly crafted tables that allowed women to be restrained both underneath, and across the table for diners to enjoy either alone, or as a group. As the soft chatter and gentle piano music died away Milla found herself in a very different, much quieter area, clearly only available to a more limited selection of clients. To Milla it didn’t really look like a restaurant at all, “What’s with the curtains?” she asked the Serveslut.
“Our customers prefer a degree of privacy, the curtains help to stop tables hearing each other.” Milla looked around, everywhere was a sea of thick and expensive red curtains that sealed off individual booths.
Milla was led down a corridor lined on one side by the curtains and then took a sharp right down an identical corridor. It seemed like the whole place was based on some sort of giant central square. Maybe the middle has a stage with entertainment, she thought, wow, dinner and a show. He must be really up for this.
After a few more booths the Serveslut turned sharply and pulled aside a curtain awkwardly, the chains and clipboard clinking dully as she did so. She’d barely even walked in before the heavy curtain stopped behind her and she was left in the private booth. Red curtains secluded them at the front and rear, with floor to ceiling wooden panels dividing them from neighbouring booths. Adrian turned as she entered and a smirk crossed his face.
“Good, you’re here, and early too, I like that.” he said, standing. She was about to answer when he grasped her by the throat and pushed her firmly into the wood divider, kissing her passionately as his free hand hiked up her skirt, his fingers searching for, and finding her trembling slit in moments. She let out a small squeak as his tongue roamed her mouth, his fingers journeyed upwards to brush her clit. He pulled back his mouth for a second leaving her breathless. “No panties either. I like that even more.”
She blushed as he spoke, she didn’t know why. Dozens of men had fingered her, fucked her, forced her into nearly unspeakably torturous positions and had their way with her, but here in the privacy of an enclosed booth, and while fully dressed she felt more naked and laid bare than she’d ever felt before. Slowly he pulled her away from the wall, moving the hand on the front of her neck to the back, forcing her lips to meet his. She felt awkward, she didn’t know what to do with her hands so as he continued to move, kiss, and finger her they alternated between tensing and opening at her sides.
She closed her eyes to luxuriate in the moment, to feel him next to her, her body being forcefully pressed into his. Her body couldn’t help but echo the movements of his fingers and her blushing intensified as she gasped, moved to her tiptoes for a second, her body tensing as a wave of pleasure rushed through her. He pulled his lips away from hers, and smiled.
“Now then…you’re properly relaxed for this evening. Let’s see what you’re really made of.” He said. Time seemed to slow for Milla, but only for a split second. She perceived multiple things in that moment that barely made sense. From behind her the sound of soft velvet, the realisation the table at the centre of the room was only set for one, the barely felt presence of someone behind her, and something passing quickly in front of her face as though falling from above.
Strong hands immobilised Milla’s behind her back, and with a cool touch of metal came the unmistakable feeling of manacles locking shut against her skin. There was a moment of terror before Adrian kissed her once more. Now using both his hands to adjust what had fallen in front of her, it tightened around her neck, a heavy knot at the rear, a loop of rope in front. In her surprise she pulled back from him, trying vainly to move her hands undo it.
“Oh I wouldn’t worry, Milla,” he said, letting her back away, hands held out to his sides indicating he’d make no attempt to stop her, “You’re in the hands of real professionals now.”
A tug at her neck pulled her backwards, down and she followed, trying as much as she could to let the noose tighten no further. Behind her she saw two Servesluts tie back the curtains facing into this part of the room, and she could now see that all of the booths seemingly opened onto this area.
A few steps backwards later and she hit the back wall, the rope pulling her down. At first she sat on the floor but then realised the rope was being pulled from higher up so tried to kneel. This is where the firm hands that had been behind her intervened. Her skirt was pulled off, thrown back towards Adrian, the poppers on her blouse hidden behind fake buttons were pulled open, and for a split second she was glad she’d gone with clothing that didn’t need tearing to expose her. Swift hands worked, first her ankles, and then just above her knee were secured in metal bracelets, and as she watched she realised the chains interlinked her with other women, crying, struggling, women, one for every table in the place. Well, you did wonder if there would be live entertainment, she thought grimly as the girl in the red dress next to her struggled to stay breathing and inadvertently opened Milla’s legs even wider than they already were. Like her the girl had her own “minder” making sure she was adequately secured and exposed.
A Dinner to Remember – La pute étranglée
The First Course
Slowly a hush descended on the room; That doesn’t seem like anything good, thought Milla as she desperately tried to balance her weight on the chains and off the rope at her neck. She partially succeeded, but by no means was air easy to come by.
All she could hear now was a single set of expensive shoes clicking across the floor, but it felt like she could hear every eyeball in the room turn to meet the man who wore them. “Good evening gentlemen. I am Emile Boucher. Tonight I have constructed for you, our distinguished guests, a tasting meal of an exquisite nature, refined and served, as was intended, with only the finest accompaniments known to man.”
He glanced at the girls in the middle, tied and struggling, by the way the chains were occasionally pulled there was more than a little panic too. Don’t worry, thought Milla, everything will be fine, it’ll be fine. We’re barenecks, they can’t do anything too bad…can they?
“Our first dish, a hand flaked salmon, caught wild today in the rivers of the north. Wild and free until this very day these creatures are now yours to enjoy, prepared by only the most careful of hands.”
Servesluts entered the booths from the rear, the first with a small plate, the second dragging women whose auction tags had yet to be replaced by slavebands.
“Begin!”
Milla got to watch for a few seconds before her attendant got to his work. He began to manually massage her holes, gently at first but with increasing force as she relaxed. The room filled with moans and groans as every woman there was likewise assaulted. They each watched not only their own holes being filled and abused, but the men who had brought them began to enjoy the Northern girls presumably delivered alongside the salmon. Milla watched as Adrian got behind his girl, and began to fuck her in the ass, eating morsels of the salmon as he did so. For a moment she was distracted from the assault on her holes by the food but a three fingered massage of her g-spot brought her crashing back to what was happening to her. Gritting her teeth and gasping she watched as Adrian pulled back on his accompaniment’s blonde hair so hard he could see eye to eye with her as he came. Finished, he discarded her to one side, and sat watching Milla as her attendant carefully watched for signs of further orgasm, stopping just short every time. Breathing hard she attempted to match his movements and force him to make her cum, but this was met with complete withdrawal on his part. Frustrated, angry, Milla pulled at the chains, only to be met with vicious pull back from elsewhere, and a smile from a watching Adrian.
The Second Course
The girls and the food were all cleared away, for a moment Milla wondered what would happen to them, were they just as much of a one time event as the menu, destined to be sold on or thrown out? Her thoughts lingered as her arousal waned frustratingly, with nothing she could do to stop it.
“We have brought you wild things, now we take a step into civilisation, the birthplace of the modern world and a place where animals were first brought to heel alongside their rightful masters. This, my friends, is very special. This is no catch of the day, these are beautiful aged morsels, intended to tantalise and delight with tenderness in the face of man’s necessary savagery. I bring you Ottohun Steamed Ox Cheeks.”
New dishes came out, this time with Ottohun dancing girls. Her attendant reached above her head, and pressed something. She felt the winch behind her activate, the chains securing her to the other women moved wildly as panic set in, as every neck was stretched. All Milla could think about was how she’d never seen anything as beautiful as the Ottohun girl dancing for Adrian, how she’d never get to be with a girl like that. Snap out of it Milla, she thought, you can still breathe, it’s okay. Just look at her though, those hips, flowing like sweet cool water, just right to– Her thoughts were rudely interrupted as a heavy handed slap came in. It stung like hell and rattled her brains. She had almost recovered when the backhand arrived, stunning her again. He probably thinks he’s funny, she thought, hand-flaked fish…so I get finger fucked. Ox cheek for the second course, so I get slapped. Let’s hope he doesn’t do any kebabs…
She caught glimpses of the dancing girl, her skin was almost a match for her own, Adrian spent most of his time alternating between chunks of Ox, and wrapping his lips around her breasts as she exposed more and more, one strip of cloth at a time until he could finally nibble and suckle on her gorgeous proud light brown nipples. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious, she thought. More slaps rattled her brain. She realised she’d been slapped harder, and more often, but the sheer metronome-like pace of her attendant meant she never had time to fully recover, and so was being treated to a rising stinging pain, building with each beat. Just when she thought she was going to scream every attendant stopped their slapping all at once, leaving the women in the centre of the room with warm rosy cheeks, and a rush of endorphins none of them was prepared for.
The Third Course
“We go now, from the cradle of civilization out wider to the classical. I speak, of course, of Stivalonian life. For the creature that sustained their populace, fed their armies, even won their wars in part. It is said that to sow chaos amongst a disciplined enemy the Stivalonians of ancient times would coat these creatures in pitch, and release them at the moment they were set ablaze. While this is likely apocryphal I can assure you our braised pork loin is not. Juicy, tender, served with a side of the finest of modern Stivalonia.”
The attendant pressed the button above Milla again and this time she really felt the tightening. She was hanging on by a thread. Desperately she tilted her head to stop the crushing force on her windpipe. This time the girls who came out were olive skinned, dark haired, and wore the metal snake-like bracelets that marked the slaves of ancient Stivalonia, their only other covering was a thin layer of oil that emphasised their classical proportions. Milla wondered what appropriate torment the girls in the centre of the room would be getting, but didn’t have long to wait. The attendants all donned gloves and opened a box, removing an ominous looking butt plug, and wand vibrator before they were both coated in a substance Milla had seen in the office once or twice.
Miss Venger was a fierce disciplinarian, she had to be, she was there to keep all the Sexretaries, and slaves in check at all times, she’d even given a hell of a beating to Mrs Stevenson one time. The girl might have been a slave but she was the wife and favourite of the owner, Milla wasn’t sure it would have gone down well coming from anyone but Holly Venger. The usual punishments were crops, a little bit of roughing up from the former Slavecop, sometimes even a mandated unpaid overtime gangbang, but one of the worst was to be given a QuikRape Sexretary prep chair which had been specially coated in stinging gel. For some reason it didn’t affect men above a strange tingling sensation, but in women the strengths could range anywhere from nettle stings to full on bites from venomous creatures in pain level, and scientists had worked for years to create different effects for each version. Thank goodness for the relentless march of progress, and its uses in the field of female torture, she thought, whatever would we do without an infinite variety of different kinds of ways to make a woman feel uncomfortable?
This bottle had an orange label, a step down from the red label version used at the office, and not the full strength purple. There was relatively little movement from the other women as the attendants approached. That stuff must not be as common as I thought it was, she thought, but oh boy is this still going to suck. Still, at least it’ll suck worse for everyone else, they think they’re about to get 20 minutes with a high power vibrator.
She watched as every surface of the plug was made to almost drip with the gel, and braced herself. The insertion was co-ordinated perfectly with the Stivalonian girls dropping to their knees, and surrendering their ponytails for the inevitable face fucking. For the first second or so the butt plug wasn’t too bad, but Milla knew very well not to celebrate too soon. The gel mixed with the natural oils and fluids of the body before it could come to full potency, and in that time the wand was forcefully pushed between her thighs so that it just poked a little between her labia, and opened up her clitoral hood.
Braised, she thought, …braised, oh god, of course they picked the one that simulates heat. For cock’s sake this is going to be rough. She could already feel the rising heat between her thighs, and inside her ass. The attendant calmly pressed on the butt plug and it too started vibrating in sympathy with the wand.
Milla already felt like she was on fire, she had to fight to keep from protectively closing her legs because even as broken as she already was from the intense treatment of the night so far she knew that would simply spread the gel to other untouched areas. Gods I hope this isn’t the stuff that reactivates in water, Milla thought to herself as her eyes rolled back; pain and lust racing to see what would overcome her first. I could definitely do without feeling like I’m having my crotch set on fire while I’m trying to shower.
She looked at Adrian over the attendant’s shoulder, tears flowing as her body remained utterly confused by what was happening. With one hand the ponytail of the Stivalonian girl was being yanked up and down in his preferred rhythm as the raven haired beauty slobbered all over him, and the floor, her eyes screwed up tightly, tears on her cheeks, and his rod plunging deep into her throat. She must be new, thought Milla, even a mid level Sexretary can take cock like that at 6 months with their eyes open. You need to look up, show them in your eyes how subservient you are, how you long to please, but also your suffering, you need them to know you’re suffering for your pleasure, that’s half the point! She wanted to jump up, walk over, and show the cunt how it was done but then she realised Adrian wasn’t looking at the slave, he was looking at Milla. As his free hand used his fork to pick up pieces of the pork loin his eyes remained fixed on her. He’s looking at me, my tears, my stretched neck, my spread legs. She allowed herself a moment of blushing pride over the fact that presented with the most expensive exclusive cunts in town, and the finest food around Adrian was feasting his eyes on her before the insistence of the vibration between her thighs made gasp. The gel was working its particular brand of magic and giving her the sensation she was burning, and the attendant was particularly skilled at making sure it was thoroughly worked into every fold and curve she had, although at least the upward pressure was enough she could, for the moment at least, breathe.
The Fourth Course
“We started the evening with the beast in the wild, roaming free, and over the last three courses you have moved from the cradle of civilization through to the permeation of society with the tamed beast. Now we move to animals that without the watchful eye of man upon them would be easy prey for the world. Thus it is that man must care for, control, and prepare them for his own purposes. Prepared in an orange liqueur sauce we now present to you a beautifully tenderised fillet of only the finest breast meat.”
Another press of the button, another movement of the rope. Milla had few more options except to clench her already exhausted leg muscles to give her room to breathe against the noose. The movements on the chains now were becoming smaller, and less frequent as some of the girls around her concentrated less on the struggle, and more on the immediate concerns of survival. Some of them were already losing the colour in their faces, drifting in and out of consciousness, brought back from the brink by the careful hands of their attendants. When the servesluts returned they came with almost completely covered slaves. Their heads were masked, lacking even the normal zippers that might be used to expose eyes or mouths, their bodies were clothed entirely in a black straightjacket, with the breasts exposed, the arms underneath to both support and present. The slaves’ bottom halves were in long hobble skirts that partially concealed the ballet boots beneath. The men she could see were almost frenzied, alternating between the succulent looking meat on their plates, and enjoying the women in front of them. Squeezing, pinching, suckling, twisting. Just watching it made her wet, she thought how deeply erotic it would be to not know when or where the next hand, the next mouth, the next cock would come from, to be powerless in front of it. Her attendant picked up a flogger from his available tools, and gently parted her blouse a little more before methodically beginning to lash her tits. The flogger was softened leather, clearly more expensive than the one she’d had used on her at work. She smiled as the flogger landed time after time, hitting her breasts, her stomach, even between her legs.
Each lash built on the one before, and her immobility meant the precisely landed blows began to push on her already overloaded mind. Each of the courses so far had targeted something slightly different, unique, something that added to her pleasure or pain, each one growing in intensity. All the while the only thing she had that she could really focus on other than herself was either her attendant or the man who’d put her here in the first place.
There was another pass of flogger strikes and Milla looked down as much as she could with her neck stretched almost to its limit. She could see redness where individual strikes had landed, a darker red where the strikes criss-crossed, and a growing turn to purple that marked the path of the flogging.
The thing that stuck with Milla was that for a mass flogging it was the quietest she’d ever heard. None of the women being flogged could do much more than whimper at this point. She was more than used to Holly Venger’s floggings, and standing around in the line for them. Even the whimpering felt quiet compared to that, and there none of the screams that came from her specialty double handed rapid pussy flogging.
She looked to Adrian again as he opted for single handed slaps the tits of the current course. They looked considered, powerful, and the reddening around the nipples was so consistent in colour he could have been some sort of machine. The slave flinched with every hit, and were it not for the choking hand he had wrapped around her throat she would have stepped back right out of the path of his blows.
The Fifth Course
By the time the fourth course was over Milla regretted comparing it unfavourably to MS Venger’s work. Her skin was hot and painful, still not recovered from the stinging gel that had been used in the course before.
“Now, gentlemen, we have seen the route of domestication, of taking the wild beast and making it learn to serve man. Now we must look at how even when something is wild it is the action of man that can take the single grain of dirt they have within them and turn it into something rare and valuable indeed. For this course we present Fresh Yametese Oysters, collected today and shipped from their native lands little realising the pleasures they could give. What would those oysters be without a little bit of local female flavour to accompany them.”
The rope tightened once more, Milla was now stuck surveying the ceiling and holding on for dear life. Every breath was accompanied by an involuntary little string of spittle. Unable to look, she could only concentrate on keeping breathing, and the stinging, warming pain that was slowly sending a tide of adrenaline and endorphins rushing through her.
She felt her attendant tie something around her hips, soft leather maybe? She only had the vaguest amount of attention that she could focus on what was going on down there. A thin strap passed down between her buttocks, A strap in? she thought but no monstrous butt plug or giant vulva destroying dildo appeared. Maybe they were lulling her in with a false sense of security, or maybe this was nothi– she felt something gently peel back her clitoral hood. No, she thought, this is wrong. That was tender.
She felt something surround her now unprotected clit, the the soft leather strap continued its way up her crotch and belly to be firmly attached to the waistband, maybe even cinched tight against her sweat covered, well beaten skin. She tried to peer down, panicking. Oh gods, she thought, please no piercings. My contract with SCTS is really clear on that, no non-approved piercings before enslavement or termination. It’s not exactly something I can hide either. Mr Stevenson’s bound to have me under his desk next week sometime. I wouldn’t complain if he had that little blonde sexretary of his helping out, though.
The chains tightened as the girls around her reacted to whatever it was. The movements were violent, frequent, and all she could do was wait for her own ordeal to start. It took only seconds before was in the same position they were, and it was not as she had expected.
The vibration was intense, and built rapidly. Milla’s eyes rolled back into her skill as her clit was overstimulated in a thousand calculated ways. Vibrated, massaged, pinched, rolled across, toyed with. Involuntarily she now pulled on her own chains, while her manacled hands grasped at nothing but air.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh fuck, no, oh gods, is this how good it can feel? She thought, experiencing every motions of the clitoral stimulator as it nestled, burrowed, and massaged into the source of her current pleasure. She alternated pulling on the chains and melting into their embrace, no longer thinking about Adrian, concentrating solely on herself, and it was at this moment the vibration died.
No, no, bring it back, I’m so close, I’ll do anything, please, just let me loose for a second so I can beg to cum, please, oh gods, this can’t be the end, she thought. She cried tears of frustration as her near orgasm faded and suddenly the stimulator was back taking her to heaven all over again. It was all she wanted, all she needed. She knew that if she could have panted and whined like some cute little pet girl so this would never stop she’d do it. She felt pathetic, shallow, out of control, like nothing made sense. The vibration died away once more as she reached the same point, and she felt like an empty shell,so desperate for just one thing she’d lost track of who she even was.
Something blocked the light falling across eyes she didn’t know she’d closed. She opened them, and what came into focus was unexpected. Before her stood a stunningly beautiful Yametese girl. Her Furiko was a weighted metal conch shape, both intricate and intimidating in its design. She’d seen this, read about it in the briefing. This girl was a pearl diver, lungs honed by repeated facefucking to allow her to hold her breath for amounts of time most Pussianan women could only dream of. Slim and athletic, she smelled distantly of the sea…she must have been freshly imported with that morning’s catch.
The girl leaned in, used her tongue to pry open Milla’s lips and in a wet and sloppy kiss deposited what could only be Adrian’s cum in Milla’s mouth. For a second Milla was surprised, but then became thankful. To experience pleasure, to experience beauty, to taste him filling her empty shell. She desperately tried to maintain the lip lock that reminded her of warm seas, white beaches, and cool breezes. The girl blushed as she moved back, and Milla was once more forced to stare at just the grey featureless ceiling, not knowing what might come next.
The Sixth Course
“Now gentlemen, alas, our time together is nearing its end, but fear not. As with all things our use for lesser creatures does come to an end and man is free to enjoy the fruits of his labour. Our final course. Crushed Cherries, infused with dark Hurenbesitzer brandy, and served with a lovingly frothed cream.”
Milla whined against her will as the clitoral stimulator was removed but soon stopped as the rope tightened again. Wet breath she had was wet and choked, through gritted teeth. Her vision was greying with little she could do to stop it. She felt the strong precise hands of her attendant again as they grabbed her left breast. You know this isn’t too bad, she thought, he could be a little softer though. Then she felt a cold touch of metal on her nipple and knew things were about to change. One of the dreaded Yamatese Hachi? Maybe a spring loaded plate with spikes? Was this the hot needle piercing she’d feared earlier, she braced herself but was relieved as two flat metal plates touched either side of her nipple. Okay, it’s fine, it’s just a nipple clamp, that’s fine, I can take these, she thought to herself, they taught us how to take these. Okay, that’s tight enough, this is….ow….fuck….no….stop….STOP….OW FUCK! She’d appreciated before what crushed cherries might mean, but not really the extent of the issue. She couldn’t even throw out some good old-fashioned curse words to make up for the pain. Finally the tightening stopped, it hurt like hell, but she could take it; it wasn’t even a surprise when her other nipple felt the same cold metal plate, the same tightening, the same shriek-inducing pain.
But for everything so far this seemed a little pedestrian. Tame almost.
Then came a tiny drop of liquid. Cool. Soothing. I’m soaked in sweat after that last course, she thought, maybe they’re washing us off before we go. The only problem was the smell. Her nostrils flared, taking in something sharp, sweet, rich.
Brandy.
Oh fuck, oh fuck no, no, no, no. They can’t do that, now after the flogging they gave us, oh gods be merciful. The cascade of liquid that followed was at first cooling, then sent wild lightning through her skin in a cascade of pinpoints of pain that made rational thought impossible. As it reached her crotch, more concerning was the fact the earlier stinging gel wasn’t the one that reactivated with water, it was the kind developed after girls got wise to that trick and re-activated with alcohol or water. Once the pour was finished she felt her attendant massage the remaining alcohol into the places it had not reached before starting a new pour to send her completely out of her mind. She grasped at thoughts, fragments of words, images. Finally she was broken, incapable of coherency.
She was only just barely aware of the frenzied fisting that rapidly turned the juices that ran between her thighs into a fine creamy foam, just as promised.
The Grand Finale
“Well gentlemen. You have enjoyed the finest dishes, with accompaniments to match. We have toured the world, and time but if there is one thing I wish to leave you with it’s that the most important thing is the here, the now, and the pleasures man can take from the moment as it stands…”
Milla tried to listen as she regained a portion of her senses but he seemed to drift in and out as she tried. She saw the attendant reaching over one more time to press the button above her. Oh fuck you, fuck you, stretch me any more and you’ll snap my neck, is that what you want? Is that what this place is? Some sort of sick and twiste– Her thoughts broke as the tension at her neck was released and she fell to the floor. In swift movements her legs were unlocked and along with the other girls she could see she was dragged back to the table where Adrian sat. Gently the attendant laid her back-first on the table, a small section was removed for a moment so the noose could lie behind her, and then be locked back in place.
Milla was in a daze. Oxygen rushed back into her, the extremes of pleasure and pain fresh in her mind, and she writhed uncontrollably, her body hungering for more of either. She felt the attendant remove the slack in the noose so she was restrained, hands still manacled at her back, but no longer choking. Then Adrian came into view above her. She wept. She couldn’t stop herself from weeping as his hands explored her body with its welts, bright red skin, and places so tender it was all she could do not to cum; she felt him brush his hands across her breasts and she shuddered, gasping. She knew now that everything done to her had been to prepare her for this moment, this singular wonderful moment.
As he lifted her ankles over his shoulder she used her remaining strength to smile sweetly at him. She felt him enter her and gasped. Earlier today had been nothing compared to this. That had been a quick fuck over a photocopier, this was the real thing. If anything he felt much larger, and harder, filling her completely; she noticed his appreciative grunt as he pushed deeper and felt a thrill that he enjoyed using her.
He began with long slow strokes to take pleasure in her, and it was all Milla could do to stay sane. Her eyes lost focus, her thighs trembled, her back arched as if to try and force more of his cock inside her. As rhythmic waves of pleasure passed over Milla heard something beyond the rhythmic slapping of flesh, heavy breathing, squeaks and whimpers that seemed to come from every direction in the room. It took energy she barely had, but she tried to focus; slowly she heard more and more of what was going on, and it was only then that she realised it was a series of sobbed thank-yous and the person whispering them amongst tears of joy was herself.
She was too exhausted from the evening to really do anything other than be appreciative fuckmeat, letting Adrian take what he wanted from her. All too quickly she felt his thrusts penetrate deeper than ever, and a spreading warmth between her thighs. For all of a moment Milla luxuriated in being nothing more than a used, cum-filled sex toy.
You Must Remember This – Roughwood Residence
“So then he takes his napkin throws it over my face, talks to the Chef while I’m still there trussed up, leaking cum and getting the aftershocks of orgasms so huge it was like I’d never been fucked before…then he just leaves! I was so horny if Adrian had walked back in I’d have pinned him to the wall and sucked him off until morning.” said Milla, a sparkle in her eyes as she recalled the story.
“Mom, I’ve heard the story a thousand times. I know how you two met.”
“Sorry, Jacob, but I thought Emily should know what the men of this family expect. After all, it is your wedding the day after tomorrow.” Milla looked at the girl, her ash blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, a deep blue cocktail dress hugging her body in a pleasing way.
“I…I’m not sure I would have been able to cope with the same thing in that situation.” Emily said, meekly, her cheeks flushed from the retelling.
“Nonsense girl,” piped in Adrian, “any slut can be trained to fuck like that, it just takes a special one to come crawling back for more.”
“Dearest, I did not crawl…not that far anyway…”
“Oh but you did my fuckable little slut. Maybe not that night…but plenty of times since.”
Milla smiled, and it took everything she had not to fall to her knees and beg to be facefucked right there under the dinner table. Then the memory of the rest of the night sprang forth, “Oh, yes, there’s actually more, isn’t there?”
Adrian drained his wine as Milla launched into the rest of the tale, and a slave began to clear the remnants of the meal from the dining table.
“So there I was, unaccompanied and in this restaurant, and little did I know Adrian had put me in for a post-meal ‘service’, tell me Emily have you ever been in an industrial whorewash?” said Milla, turning her eyes back to the girl.
“No, Mrs Roughwood. Although I’ve seen the….adverts…”
“Oh, it’s much better than that. You’re mechanically restrained, pressure washed, have every fuckable hole cleaned out…the deepthroat cleanout can be a little rough the first few times, but the other two…you’ll never feel cleaner,” said Milla. She watched, Emily was a deep crimson now. That girl is going to burn a hole in the table if she blushes any more, she thought, okay, challenge accepted! “So anyway Adrian left instructions for me to be sent to the whorewash, and I’d never been in one of the fancy ones so that was a whole experience, let me tell you. At the end of it all they give me is my high heels, a branded restaurant thong, and a takeout box of anything Adrian didn’t actually finish before pushing me out of a side door at 5am.”
“Now it was early morning, I managed to make it back to the apartment I was sharing in record time, and just about got myself prepped for work. I was an absolute mess, a clean mess, but a mess that had had no sleep, a bruise around its neck, and had knees so weak it could barely stand. I get into the office just on time and Paul Stevenson himself drags me into his office by my hair. I thought for sure he was slapping a band on me and shipping me out to god knows where for coming into work like that. But no, turns out he’s in a meeting with Adrian, and I’m being transferred to be Adrian’s personal sexretary but not before they spit roast me across the desk for an hour. Oh, yes, and with one more small change to my employment…you see I was at SCTS on a work/study course, mostly business but Adrian insisted I take a few courses on Female Studies with Agata Matryschek as part of them…”
Milla watched as Emily looked up, her blush fading a little, “You studied under Dr Martyschek?” she asked eagerly.
“Under, on top of, end to end, all the required coursework. Her work on the etiquette of proper fellatio is absolutely life changing for a woman with a career…”
“It certainly meant there were no boring afternoons in the office either.” added Adrian as a slave poured him a fresh drink. “You must have been the best fed woman in the company.”
“Yes, and Holly couldn’t exactly complain about me if every time she saw me you were balls deep in my throat,” replied Milla, wistfully. She turned to Emily once more, “So how are you with fellatio?”
The girl nearly spluttered her glass of water across the table. Where did Jacob find this sheltered little piece of pussy, she thought, she’s made it all the way through high school, and she’s barely capable of keeping herself together on simple questions like that.
“Well, I took some classes, and we….demonstrated on school issue dildoes…”
“So you haven’t…” Milla made a jerking gesture near her mouth and pushed out her cheek with her tongue to complete the sentence.
“…no.”
“And your wedding is in two days.”
“…well it’s not like all we’re doing after that is me giving Jacob a…uh….is it?”
Oh you poor sweet innocent, thought Milla, you have no idea do you? “You do know a traditional wedding ceremony will involve your hands being bound and you sucking off all the male guests as a courtesy, don’t you?”
Emily blanched. The blush was gone. She looked at Jacob, then at Adrian who chuckled, throwing back more drink. “I…but…there’s going to be over 50 male guests…I can’t…”
“Oh relax, it’s a formal dinner, I can do most of the warmup for you and we have Candycunt for the ones who want to start with a good hard skullfuck, you just need to finish off and swallow.”
Emily looked at her now, close to tears. Milla got up from the table and went around to Emily’s side, crouching next to the chair and cradling her. “It’s all right, it’s okay, trust me, you have nerves now, but on the day you’ll get so cum drunk you’ll beg for more. Trust me. It’s in your nature.”
“But I’m a good girl…surely that’s something a slave…”
Milla held Emily close before saying “Oh sweetie, all women are meant to serve at men’s pleasure, even the good girls. Slaves are just the girls who have to be reminded their job is to please men. Look, let me help you.” Slowly she brought Emily down onto her knees, looking up at Jacob. Milla looked at Adrian, “Perhaps, husband, you would care for some dessert too?”
Adrian walked around the table, taking up the seat Emily had vacated, unzipping himself as he sat. He took a good handful of Milla’s hair and pulled her head back sharply. “Oh I think I can manage a morsel like you, slut.” He turned to Jacob, the image of a younger version of himself, but with skin a shade closer to Milla’s. “The key thing is, son, you want to keep them low enough they gag, but pull them up enough they don’t pass out. As your slut is very much in training just give her a good hard slap if her hands go above her waist, and always make sure to surprise her with how deep, and how fast she’ll be sucking.”
Jacob took the same hard handful of Emily’s hair as his father had done of his mother. Now there were real tears in her eyes. For a moment she raised her hands to try and stop Jacob pulling her hair but received a stinging slap by way of a lesson. “Please, Jacob, you’re hurting m–GLUGH!!”
The blonde had been shoved balls deep onto Jacob’s member, and he laughed as she tried to pull back, trying not to raise her hands. “How’s that for a surprise?” he asked Emily, inching her up slowly off his cock only to plunge her back down hard before he was fully out of her throat.
Both men laughed at Emily’s struggles as Milla began to suck her husband deeply in a much more dignified fashion, though with no less hair pulling and drooling. Emily’s emerald green eyes pleaded with Jacob for a moment of mercy, but she found none as he kept pace with, and imitated his father’s facefucking technique. Milla was used to it by now, she’d had nearly 20 years of it. She looked up at her husband as he pinched her nose and forced her right down to the base of his cock, she knew what he wanted; her tongue began to lovingly massage his balls. In his eyes was that same wonderful look she remembered seeing all those years ago, rope tight around her neck, a Yametese pearl diver just where she was now. She thought just how lucky she was. Outliving most of her classmates and former colleagues, still regularly raped by a man who made sure she had the very best in medical regenerations, and now helping her future daughter in law to appreciate her true place in the world, on her knees, begging for mercy she neither needed, nor would receive.
A few minutes of rapid oral massage, and Adrian blessed her with his load, she gulped it down eagerly as she had standing permission to swallow. “Thank you, my love.” she said before using the very tip of her tongue to gently clean his cock, and any remaining cum. Staying on her knees she looked at Emily who was undergoing a brutal facefuck. Makeup ran down her cheeks in a torrent of dark eye shadow with some of the shimmering blue and gold she’d used to bring out what Milla thought were gorgeous eyes.
Milla shimmied over on her knees behind Emily and slid a hand under her dress to begin playing with her over her panties while whispering in her ear. “You were born to please my son, you would die to please my son. Feel his mighty cock within you, it pulses with the pleasure he’s taking from you.” She felt Emily relax as she talked, and continued to play with her pussy. “You will be his wife, the head of his harem, the favourite, maybe even mother to his sons. Most of all though, you will be his little, loving, devoted, breathless, brainless, unflinching whore…”
It’s amazing, Milla thought, all it takes is a few lines from my old professor and she’s a different slut altogether. Emily was now loose and accepting of the facefucking, her eyes looked a world away. Suddenly Milla’s fingers became very damp as Emily squirted through her panties, still moaning as her eyes rolled back and cock filled her throat. At that moment she was proud of her son. He’d chosen his future wife well, she looked nervous and meek but underneath was pliable horny fuckmeat ready for him to train and use.
She could see Emily was still having trouble breathing but didn’t seem to care much any more as the meaty shaft plunged between her lips, although she could see Emily was at least attempting to take what she’d learned in High School to heart, her lips, a glittery blue/green to go with her eye shadow, rather than pulling back in a futile attempt to breath pressed almost imperceptibly on Jacob’s flesh, her tongue bobbed in time with his thrusts, lubricating, massaging, tasting, feeling.
You’re not quite the good girl you said you were, are you, Emily? Milla thought, You might not have sucked a cock, but you were just waiting for the chance to be used. Well here’s your chance, I know that telltale little twitch from his father, you’re about to get a good taste of something wonderful.
“Now, you little slut, there’s a mouthful of cum coming your way. Honour your future husband. Do not spit, do not drool, simply accept his blessing, hold it in your mouth, you are his and he decides what you do. He decides if you are worthy to taste his seed, to drink it, to feel its warmth inside you, until then you display it for him, mix it with your saliva, let him see your obedience, and pure submission to his will.”
Both Jacob’s hands cradled Emily’s head and pushed her down. There was a sound of muffled surprise as the girl felt her mouth filling. Milla smiled a little to herself as she realised what was happening. If the girl hadn’t spent her time relieving him regularly she was in for one monster mouthful.
Air was forcefully pushed out of Emily’s mouth as she struggled to keep her lips sealed around the cock while hot salty liquid poured onto her tongue in a torrent of cum. Milla looked at her as she finally pulled back. Her hair showed the telltale signs of makeshift facefuck handles, makeup ran down her neck and into her cleavage, her blue green lipstick was smeared, and had left a perfect glittery kiss ring at the base of Jacob’s cock. She’d never seen Emily look more beautiful. The girl craned her head back a little and opened her mouth, it was all Milla could do not to jump in and slurp up the cum herself, but she had her own husband to please. Emily waited there on her knees as Jacob sat, admiring her.
“Candycunt?” Jacob said.
The slave who had been serving drinks crawled over from her kneeling position by the door at his call. Milla watched her crawl, she was naked aside from a scrap of cloth masquerading as a maid apron, and a butt plug that vibrated on command to serve as a way to summon the cunt. Up until a few months ago she’d been in Jacob’s class at school, but one bad day, one slap to Emily, and Jacob had used some of the money he earned working with his father’s independent cunt transportation firm to make sure she suffered.
“Candycunt, I want you to take the load in Emily’s mouth and hold it in your own for a moment.” said Jacob as she got close.
Disgust crossed her face for a second but it was soon buried. She pulled back her long ginger hair from her face and kissed the unmoving Emily, slurping and sucking every warm salty ounce of fluid from her mouth.
“Now Emily, stand up, take your clothes off, and wait.” He continued, a tiny cruel smile fleetingly visible on his face.
“But….I…” Emily started. A relatively gentle slap freed her from her thoughts and she stood, her pretty dress tumbled to the floor, followed by sopping panties, and a matching cut bra with a bow in the middle.
“Now Candycunt, I want you to make sure Emily is just covered in my load, you know, her face, tits, hair…the works. Then I want you to kiss her, rub up against her, make sure you’re both just nicely covered. Don’t worry about the apron, just get it all over you.”
Emily closed her eyes as the sloppy mixture of spit and cum poured over her, Milla could almost hear a broken whimper as she breathed. She’ll learn, she thought, and what’s more she’ll be good at it. Jacob’s got that beautiful creative streak in him to humiliate the women around him. I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud. Candycunt began to rub herself up and down Emily, leaving sticky little kisses on her, licking up cum where it had pooled only to drop it out of her mouth again on Emily’s face.
“Well, dad, looks like we have some very messy sluts right here.” said Jacob.
“Yes son, we really do.” replied Adrian, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“If only there was an easy solution to this problem.” mused Jacob in a mildly comic fashion.
“If only, real shame there isn’t.” replied Adrian, matching his son’s tone.
Milla rolled her eyes and smiled, she knew what was coming. It had been a while, she hoped her last set of regenerative treatments hadn’t left her too tight for what was to come.
“Whorewash trip? I’m thinking Wet and Wild, the one with the viewing area full of soaped up free use cunts.” said Jacob, a toothy grin on his face.
“Excellent idea.”