Hitting Rock Bottom

This story has themes of non-consent, kidnapping, sex slavery and other related kinks. If such kinks offend you, please do not read. This story is an act of FICTION and is not meant as any political or cultural statement. It is meant for enjoyment and should never be done in real life.

Most people think they know what rock bottom is, but they don’t. Sure, times get tough for them, things look hopeless, but they have no real clue what rock bottom is.

“Margarite, things will get better,” I tell myself out loud, but then I laugh. Even saying it sounds stupid.

My boyfriend of the past 4 years cheated on me. That relationship which I spent so much time on is now in the garbage. The best thing I can do to get over it is try not to think how many times he cheated on me and with how many.

Just as that happened, I got fired. They assured me it wasn’t because of my work but the company’s poor revenue, but in the end it doesn’t matter. I got fired and to make it better, they refused to pay me my last paycheck for the hours I already worked.

And to top it all off, my apartment is kicking me out. Not because I didn’t pay, but because some inspector found it to be substandard and no one can live there any more per the law. I’ll be able to go and get my things, but not sleep there.

I take deep breaths as I walk down the sidewalk. I used to think living in downtown was fun and hip. I mean, what 26-year-old woman wouldn’t want to live in the city with all the other young professionals? Everything has here. Only now it feels like the most expensive place to live, in which I know I won’t find a new place as I doubt I have enough for the deposit.

I have no other family, well maybe long lost cousins but no one that will help me. And all of my good friends live in different states and have no way of helping me right now. I have no one that is able to help me.

I was told about my apartment this morning. And after that lovely meeting, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks. That’s a lie. I had 15 drinks. But they were over the course of a several hours, so I’m not majorly drunk, just a little drunk.

Since leaving the bar, I’ve been walking the streets of downtown, trying to think of what to do. Of where to go. Where to sleep. Of how to pick up the pieces of what I used to call my life.

I keep walking, not really looking where I’m going nor caring. Normally I am good about avoiding certain areas of downtown for various reasons; homeless, muggers, etc, but at the moment I could very well be homeless so I better get used to all of the streets.

I just walk, looking forward but not really looking at anything. It’s only when I see a bit of graffiti on the ground that I stop. It reads “No hope enters here.”

Wait a second, I recognize that graffiti. Where from? I don’t know, but I don’t think it is anything good.

When I left the bar, I just turned right and just started walking. Following that path in my head, I try to work out where I am since I normally don’t go that many blocks outside of my apartment. To help me, I look around at the buildings. It’s mostly factory type buildings and warehouses, but most are for sale.

“Oh shit,” I say out loud when I finally recognize the area. I knew this area existed, just like I knew that when I left the bar, yet I still walked into it? Fuck me!

Where do I recognize it from? The news. This is “Disappearance Alley.” Over a dozen people go missing from here a year, both men and women, of any and all ages. The cops think it’s so sort of mob and sex slave thing, but they never find the people nor do they find any clues so they don’t know.

Why did I come here? I should have known that turning right at the bar would take me here in time. Why didn’t I pay attention? Why didn’t I think about where the hell I was going.

With my heart starting to pound, I notice that there’s no one around at all. Not to mention everything is as quiet as can be. It’s an unnatural quiet too.

I quickly turn around. I’m in the heart of this area so I need to cover a lot of area in a little time to get out of here. But right before I take off to run, in front of me, is a solid shadow.

No, not a solid shadow, but a man in a black suit. A very large man in what looks like an expensive suit. He stands in front of me as if he could block out the sun.

“Put your hands on your head,” the man says in a very deep voice. His voice seems to echo around the buildings, or at least that’s what it feels like because it echoes in my head.

“I…I’m sorry, what?” I ask, thinking that I misheard him. Most people say ‘hello’ or ‘hey’ when they meet a stranger. But to me it sounded like he said for me to put my hands on my head.

“Put your hands on your head, unlike you want to die,” the man calmly tells me. I almost burst out laughing as surely he’s joking. Only when I see his face, I know he’s not joking. His face is ice cold with no emotion at all. Hell, I’ve seen rocks with more emotion than this human beings.

“O-Ok,” I tell him, thinking that he’s so huge he could reach out and snap my neck with ease. So, with a shuddering breath, I lift my hands up and put them on top of my head. As I didn’t have to dress up for work, I am wearing an old tshirt and blue jeans, not anything that makes me look like I have money.

“I…I don’t have any money,” I tell the man. That’s why he’s doing this right? He’s robbing me? Surely there’s no other reason. Right? Right??

I’m not even sure he hears this as he doesn’t react. Instead, he looks at me up and down as if searching for something. Or appraising.

“I am going to say this once. You are going to be sold as a sex-slave. If you don’t do as I say, try to run or if annoy me, I will kill you and make sure your body will not be found,” he tells me in that emotionless tone.

Never in my life has anyone said anything that scared me more than this. And once I was robbed at gunpoint. When I was robbed, the gun was in my face and the guy yelled ‘purse bitch.’ But that guy’s voice was filled with emotion while this guy’s is ice cold. The guy with the gun may not have ever shot anyone, but this guy in front of me has indeed killed people and probably didn’t even think about them again.

What do you say to that? It’s not a normal thing that would ever come into any conversation. Do I start to beg for him not to? Or try and debate him on why it’s a bad idea?

“O-Ok,” is what I end up replying with. I start to wonder if this is some sort of alcohol powered hallucination. Normally I just have a glass of wine, but today I had all sorts of spirits. Maybe the combination of all of them has some sort of weird effect on the brain?

“Repeat it back to me so I know you understand,” the man says, and crosses his arms as if getting annoyed. When he does this, I notice something about his suit. We are lit by a dim streetlamp so it’s not like I can see everything perfectly, but I do notice a bulge on his left side that isn’t on the right. That has to be a gun, right? Isn’t that where people put them when they are in holsters?

“I-I’m going to be sold as a s-s-sex s-s-slave,” I start and something extremely strange happens. My womanhood tingles. It tingles in a manner that makes me start to feel aroused, even if this is the absolute worst time to do so. It’s something about saying something that powerful. I mean, that phrase is basically giving up all your control.

“If I run or don’t do what you say, you will, will, will….k-kill me,” I finish, and once again I feel a powerful tingle down below that seems to shoot in all directions, making my entire body warm. I even feel my face flush in what is by far the most humiliating thing ever for me.

The man doesn’t react. He just looks at me for a moment, right in the eyes. And his eyes barely look human. They are the sort of eyes you would like in a creepy painting, where they follow you no matter what. But then he reaches inside his suit coat and pulls out a phone or tablet. He does this fast as otherwise I might have screamed thinking it was a gun.

He looks down at the device and starts to tap away. What scares me just a bit more is that the device doesn’t light up his face from the screen. It’s dimmed or made to not be very bright, which means he really is a professional. This way no one can really see his face even on camera.

“Remove all your clothes and give me your cell phone,” he then orders while tapping on his screen. Again, this is something that is not said in normal conversation. Well my asshole boyfriend said it once, I think, when we were being silly and playing sexual betting games.

Once again, that tingle from below hits me, like a submarine pinging for objects in the ocean. It goes all over my body, bringing that sexual warmth in which you want to change into something that makes your body looks good and sexy.

“O-Ok,” I say, not sure what more to say to this, or even do. I take a glance around as we are out in public. This is a freaking street corner! But there’s no one around. Why would there be? Just building for sell and trouble here. I was stupid for coming here.

“I have-,” I begin to say but he cuts me off, “Spare me any comments about family, pets or whatever waiting for you. I don’t want to hear anything from you but the sounds of clothes being removed,” he states, not even looking at me.

Damn. He really has done this before, and a lot. I was going to make up a story about a husband and kids, but that went as well as a fart in church. That was my best idea for getting out of this. Hell, it was my only idea.

With no other way to stop this, I reach into my pocket and hand him my cell phone. He casually takes it and puts it in his coat pocket.

I bend down and untie my shoes. Being a bit scared, I try to go fast, but my hands tremble, so it takes longer. But I untie the one shoe then the other. Next I slip out of each one. Then I step on one sock and peel out of it, then use my other foot to do the same so I am barefoot.

With my bare feet on the concrete, I unbutton my jeans. The feeling of the rough concrete like this feels so weird. Like being back in your old elementary school when you are an adult. The memory of what it should be isn’t right and throws you off.

I pull down my jeans, my face very red. When I do, my black panties come out for his view, as do my pale white legs. Still trembling I pull them to my ankles then step out of them, leaving me with just my panties for my bottom half.

Now I grab the bottom of my tshirt and lift it upward. As I am not trying to be sexy or seductive I just peel it off, not caring too much how it looks. And well, my black bra comes out all the same, leaving me in just my underwear.

“Tit size?” the man asks, but he isn’t looking at me, but at his tablet. This throws me off a bit as I was about to pull down my panties.

“38 DD,” I answer, and then pull my panties down. Oh, there is no feeling like what I feel right now. The feeling of your bare sex coming out in a very public place and for an evil, evil man. Worse, he doesn’t even look at me when I do it. It’s such an intense and humiliating feeling that I swear if I dwell on it I might bring myself to orgasm.

Next I reach behind me to unclasp my bra. As I do, I notice the man tapping away at his device. The clasps come undone, allowing my breasts to be free. Looking to the side due to my embarrassment, I slide my bra all the way off to expose my breasts to him and the world.

“Max number of people you fucked at the same time?” He asks now and it occurs to me what he’s doing; a questionnaire. He’s filling out a fucking questionnaire about me.

“J-Just one,” I answer, using my hands to cover myself. To this, he taps away at the device, filling out whatever sex-trafficking form he’s using.

“I…I guess you want me to throw away my clothes?” I ask after a very long pregnant pause. He’s tapped away for maybe a full minute without saying anything. It’s sort of eerie to be like this, and it scares me. And since there is a trash can literally a couple of feet away on the corner, I would assume this is where my clothes are going to go.

“No. They’ll find them in the trash, stuff them down the street’s drain. They’ll float out to the river and won’t be found,” he answers while not looking at me. Again, this just floors me and nearly makes me burst out in tears. The seriousness of this situation is overwhelming. It’s like being high on some great drug and then stone cold sober the next second.

“O-Ok,” I say, flabbergasted. Naked, scared and out on the street corner, I pick up my clothes into a ball. I clung them to me in an effort to hide my naked body if not for a few minutes. Now I step into the street and walk a few steps until I reach the drain that’s at the curb.

Frowning I drop my clothes on it. Immediately half go down it while the other half stays on the grate. Using my foot, I move the remaining pieces down, where they all go in the drain. As I see the last piece fall, which was my panties, I am hit with that tingle again.

I have no clothes. I couldn’t wear anything even if I wanted to. There’s nothing around for me to cover myself. I would have to hide behind something and even then it wouldn’t help. I’m truly naked for the first time ever.

“Get over here, hands on head,” the man orders as I guess I was taking too much time looking at my lost clothes in the drain. Doing as he wants, I walk back to him and stand in front of him. Once again I lift my hands and put them on my head.

Never have I felt so vulnerable and naked. It makes me think of the first time I had to undress for gym with all the other girls around. It’s crazy open and you can’t hide. He can see everything from my breasts, in which my right boob is a bit larger than the left, to my belly ring, to the fact that I shaved myself last night. He sees everything.

“You had sex with boys and girls?” He asks now, still tapping away. Damn it that tingle won’t quit. I’m scared for my very life and it keeps trying to make me touch myself the way it tingles and tingles.

“Y-Yes. Mainly men. But in college I had a friend-,” I start to explain the depths of my bisexual activities but he cuts me off by saying, “I don’t care.”

“How many partners have you had sex with?” He asks next. To this I have to think a little bit. If I wasn’t so scared I know I could answer it easy, but at the moment I really have trouble thinking.

“4? Yeah, I think 4,” I say nervously. Again he taps this answer into his tablet. He then lowers it and looks at me for the first time once I got naked.

“Walk into that alley. Walk, nice and slow and nothing bad happens,” he orders, pointing at a darkened alley from a horror movie. I nod at this and begin to walk. Both legs feel like jello as I walk and I’m so scared I may walk too fast or too slow. But I walk, feeling my bare tits jiggling with each step which I’ve never really felt before. Sure they’ve jiggles millions of times, but this is really the first time I’ve felt them and how much they jiggle.

I walk down the sidewalk and then turn towards the alley. Damn it’s dark down here. I half-expect a pack of wild gang-members or mafia types to grab me and tear me to pieces. But as my eyes adjust, I light shining through a closed door. It sticks out as it’s the only light in the alley.

Not having to be told, I walk towards that door with the man following just a step behind me. When we reach it, he steps in front and opens it. Then he steps back and motions for me to go in.

I step into the building, which looks like an old warehouse. And I do mean old. There’s tons of dust and broken equipment everywhere. Even the light that is broken as it’s just the bulb hanging on a cord with a partial piece of the encasing it was in.

Very confused, I stop. My fear starts to get worse as I think he was lying. That I’m not really going to be a sex slave but a murder victim. That he’s going to off me here and leave me, knowing no one will ever find me.

“This way,” the man tells me and I see he’s against the right wall. My eyes widen as I see he’s slide part of the wall back to reveal another room. Oh hell, it’s a secret room. I mean, I didn’t notice anything off about that wall at all when I came in. It looked just like a wall. Or better yet, the end of the building.

With my hands on top of my head, I walk into the secret room and am amazed. There is a bank of monitors showing almost every angle of outside. Looking at them, they must have seen me a mile away, literally. And these are nice monitors too.

All around the room are clean, expensive looking…things. There’s a computer station, a weight bench looking thing, a tool bench, a green screen with cameras, and even a refrigerator and stove. This room probably cost double what I make in 5 years.

“Stand in front of the cameras,” the man states and closes the door to lock us inside. His emotionless voice knocks me out of my daze of looking at everything in the room.

I do as he commands and start walking towards the set with the cameras, my hands still on top of my head. As I get closer to this area, which is against the wall in the middle of the room, I notice just how expensive those cameras are. There’s three of them and they look really professional. Like I bet they cost over $100,000.

Nervous, I set onto the tile floor of the stage, which has the tiles being a different color then everywhere else. There’s actually a faded X on the floor, which I take to mean I’m supposed ot stand on it.

Standing there, I face the cameras when the lights all turn on, lighting every inch of me. Then I see red lights turn on from each of the cameras, meaning they must be recording me. I don’t know why, but this affects me a great deal. It makes that tingle get stronger and stronger, as if it’s feeding on my humiliation.

In the corner, I actually see a monitor high up. There I see myself on screen. There’s a digital background behind me of what looks like a brick wall inside a prison. And the girl on screen doesn’t look like me at all. It’s crazy the difference between us, even if it is me.

“This is introduction video. People will view it and see if they want to purchase you. Information will be displayed at the bottom for them to see,” the man informs me, making me look away from the monitor. I sway at this knowledge as the realization that I’m really about to be sold hits me.

“Your new name is Slave #789. I want you to look at the camera and say your name and say you are a sex-slave to be purchased. Then you answer any questions I have,” he continues, and I can’t even see him thanks to the lights.

“O-Ok,” I say but now my voice quivers in fear. It doesn’t even sound like my voice now. And I have to fight back tears as I’ve gone past the point of being scared.

“I’m waiting,” he says coldly, meaning for me to start. At this I gulp and try to gather all my nerve. My body trembles due to my fear and the worst part is how I feel my tits jiggling from it.

“I’m Slave #789, and I am a s-s-sex-slave to be purchased,” I say out loud looking at the camera closest to me. Dear me. Saying that nearly makes me cum. My heart pounds like crazy and my poor clit yearns to be touched, just a little bit.

In the corner of my eye I see the monitor. At the bottom is flashes “Only 3 pervious sexual partners,” as if it is a selling point. Like I’m a car with few miles on it.

“You understand you will be punished for any misbehaving, or that you will be punished because your master wants to punish you?” He asks now. I pause before saying anything as that’s a damned-if-you-do question.

“Y-Yes sir,” I reply. Now the screen says, “Bisexual.” My eyes widen at this as what if I am made to do things with women? Like I said, the only times I did such things was way back in college. I’ve done nothing since then.

“You understand that any orifice, such as your mouth, ass or cunt can be and will be sexually used?” He asks now in that emotionless tone. My heart pounds harder at this as I’ve never done anything, you know, with my bum before. Mouth, sure. Pussy, of course.

“I…Y-Yes,” I answer. At this I hear the man jerk in his chair, like he didn’t like this response. I’m unable to see him, but I can sense him glaring at me. But then the chair is moved back.

Now the screen says my bust size, weight and height. This is a bit embarrassing as I was on a diet to try and lose a bit of weight. And I’m not really surprised his technology can determined such stuff as fancy as it looks.

The lights are then turned off. The red lights on the cameras go off as well, and the monitor goes black. I figured the filming is over, and if it is, that was a breeze. In fact, maybe this is all just a weird sort of joke or something.

“Now we prepare you for the second part of the video. First part just introduction. Second is slave appearance,” he tells me as my eyes start to adjust.

Slave appearance? What in the world could that be? I really don’t like the sound of it to be honest.

“Step off stage, and stand against wall with cuffs,” he orders. Still trembling I do step off the stage. For the first time I consider running. He’s at the computer station, editing the video, I think. This would be the perfect time to try and run.

But looking at where we came in…there’s no door knob. No switch, no lever no nothing. Even if I ran over, I would have no clue on how to open the door. I then wonder if I could smash something over his head to knock him out. That would give me some time to escape. But there’s nothing that I could use as everything looks far too heavy, like the cameras, plus I think I could break a brick over his head and he wouldn’t feel it.

Defeated, I walk to where I think he wants me to go. There’s a circle next to the wall, that has two cuffs on chains coming from the wall. I walk towards it, very nervous about what’s going to happen as I’m sure those cuffs have something to do with it.

A moment later he walks towards me. He then goes to a file cabinet and opens one of the doors. Inside are dozens of packs of rope. Small lengths of rope that have been packaged. He grabs three of these and closes the door.

He walks to me, then grabs my shoulder I winch at his touch as even his skin is ice cold. It’s like a dead man touching you. But then he pulls to move me. And hell, I am spun around easily by the guy. He turns me without saying a world, nearly crushing my face against the wall.

“Ouch,” I cry out as he takes one of my wrists and forces it behind me. Then he grabs the other one and puts it behind me too as if I’m being arrested. My wrists are put together, and then I feel the rope being wrapped around.

This does make me start to cry a little as a few tears fall. This means I’ll be helpless. I won’t be able to do like 90% of what I need to, to get out of here. And he wraps them around, then around each wrist individually until I feel him tying them.

Letting go, I test my hands to find they are tied. There’s no way to break them free or to slip out. And worst of all, the tingling has reached a fever point where I feel like if I don’t touch myself, I may pop. But at this point, I would have to rub it against something, and I’m not doing that.

The brute spins me around again, where he grabs my neck in one hand. My eyes widen as he squeezes hard. All air is cut off and I start to panic. My body starts to react as I begin to see stars in the edges of my vision. I start to really panic and even try to kick him, but that’s like kicking a wall of concrete as he doesn’t even flinch.

He finally releases me, letting me take in deep breaths of air. That’s all I can focus on, getting air inside me, and as I do, I feel something wrapped around my neck. I catch a glimpse of it at the last moment to know what it is, and that’s a collar. A fucking dog collar with a ring on it. He choked me out so I wouldn’t protest him putting it on me.

The damn thing is locked on and now constantly chokes me as he puts it very tight. Well, that’s not true. It isn’t comfortable at all, but I can breathe. It oddly feels like he still has his hand around my neck and it just starting to squeeze.

“Do I need to do that again while I bind your tits, or are you going to behave?” He asks much like a parent talking to a misbehaving child. When he asks this, he isn’t even looking at me as he is unwrapping another one of the rope packages.

“B-Bind my…t-t-tits?” I ask in a gasp. I didn’t expect this at all. I mean, that sounds so mean. What is the point of doing something like that? Just to make the woman be in constant pain?

He doesn’t say anything to my question. He just looks at me, waiting for my answer. So my options are to basically be almost choked to death so he can do it peacefully, or let him do it and don’t fight or say anything.

“I…I’ll be good,” I end up saying, and I actually thrust my hips out automatically when I do as saying those words has that strange arousing effect. It’s just… I so badly want to be touched. At this point, I don’t care that it’s him if he just touches me down there. Just rubs my clit a little bit. Rubs my lips, inserts a finger, hell at this point he could slap it and I wouldn’t mind.

“Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh,” I repeat over and over as he brings the rope stretched out in his hands to my left breast. He wraps it around the base of my boob, with a loop on the end of the rope. After putting the other end through the loop…he pulls on the rope to tighten it.

I cry out in pain at this as he tightens it right at the base of my boob. And he pulls so hard. It feels like he’s trying to pop my poor breast. He pulls again even if it is super tight, making me cry out once more. But then he does a neat sort of knot, leaving my boob bound and pulsing.

Already I feel my heartbeat in my boob. I can feel it throbbing as the blood is cut off. Moreover, I feel how sensitive my nipple is getting. Like my clit, I need it to be touched. Even if it is to flick it against the wall or something.

But then he starts on my right boob. He repeats the process and I actually cry even harder. Something about the pair of them being like this makes the feeling much more intense. Makes the situation feel so much more real than it was before. And I think he tightens the right one even more.

Now my tits are tied. MY TITS ARE TIED. This is me, after all. The good girl. The one that would never even think of doing something as painful or perverted as this. At least there can’t be much more he can do, right? Collar, naked and my tits are tied. Not much more, right?

I get the answer when he produces two mean-looking clamps. I whimper at the very sight of them, but know there’s no fighting it. And sure enough, he puts the first metal clamp right on my right nipple. When he does, I shake my head wildly as my nipple feels pinched off. It both feels great as I wanted the nipple to be touched, but also feels horrible as it’s so painful. I’ve tried clamps before, but always had them loose, you know? Not tightened as bad as these.

It takes me a moment to come to terms with the pain as both nipples are clamped. I think my tits being tied makes it a lot worse, something I never knew could be possible. I really never knew my own breasts could make me feel like this.

As I try to calm down, or at least calm my breathing, I see the guy take out two more bundles of rope. Not saying anything, he undoes them, then ties both ends of one to the other in the middle of the length. Then he loops one into a smaller loop. Then he makes another loop with the other rope. In a way it sort of looks like a rope thong. He oddly makes a knot in one of them, a big knot.

Turning to me, he puts the rope-thong on the ground. He lays it out so it looks like two circles. Seeing this, I figure it is some sort of harness as each circle is for each leg.

“Step into,” he demands, and timidly, I put one foot in one circle and then the other foot into the other. Instantly he slides the harness up, which is far too big for me. He brings it up to my waist, and then tightens it around my waist like he did on my boobs. I grunt at this as he ties it tight so it won’t move which I have to suck in my stomach some, but I know it could be worse.

That leaves the other loop, which is limp and hanging between my legs with one end tied towards my belly button and the other at the base of my back. I still don’t get what he means to do with it, especially as he moves the huge knot in it as if trying to get it in the right place.

The man tights the loop. When he does, I nearly pass out. I’m hit with an orgasm like any I’ve ever felt. This orgasm hits like a physical blow making me slam against the wall behind me.

He tightens the rope super tight, and that huge knot is pressed right against my clit. And I mean PRESSED hard. It’s pushing into it as hard as possible, digging into me. And it’s that which makes me orgasm.

The ice-cold man proceeds to tie this loop off as I moan loudly against the wall, feeling the waves of pleasure rush over me. My legs are spread and I rock my hips as if I could rock against that knot. My moans get extremely loud because the orgasm only builds and builds, each wave becoming more intense as I feel all that he’s done to me, from tying my hands, to trying my tits. Its truly unlike anything before, and damn it does it feel good.

I cum like a whore, moaning and moaning as he finishes tying off the harness. He says nothing about what is happening, even if he knows what’s going on. That he knows I’m cumming. But showing how he doesn’t care, he walks away, leaving me to rub against the wall, moaning and moaning from the strangest orgasm I have ever had. Moaning as I cum hard in front of a man that does care at all. This only makes me cum harder as weird as it is.

Finally after about a minute my orgasm fades and I nearly start crying. Looking down, I see the rope is tied under me, with it going right through my pussy lips and on the other end I feel it between my ass. It makes my most beautiful body part look cheap and whorish. Like I’m one of those sick BDSM bitches that has all sort of things done to them in cheap videos.

And worse of all the knot keeps pressing against my clit. Already I can feel my body starting to build another orgasm as it doesn’t seem to want to stop being touched. That knot is torture. It keeps pressing against my most sensitive place, knowing I can’t do anything about it. Knowing I have to feel it between my ass cheeks and inside my pussy.

“Go to cameras,” the man orders and I see he’s back at his computer station, ready to finish the video. I in a way feel like a puddle of goo after cumming like that, especially how I am now dressed. But I force myself to start walking. And oh, this makes the knot rub against me even worse, especially as my legs are jello.

I’m back on the stage now, partly hunched over as I try to fight against cumming again. But it’s hard. My nipples are being bitten, my tits squeezed to death and a violating rope is between my ass cheeks. It’s too overwhelming.

“Now they see you in typical slave outfit. Repeat your name and that you are a sex-slave,” he man states after the lights come back on to light me up. The first thing I do is look at the monitor to see what I look like. When I see myself, truly looking like one of those BDSM whores, I cum again.

Never in my life did I think I would ever cum like I am now. Just like I never thought I would look like this. Yet there I am, as clear as day, naked and all abused-looking. It sends my already sensitive clit into a frenzy, and the waves flood over me once again.

I back up against the wall, trying to fight the pleasure, but it’s winning for the lights and camera to see. Wave after wave of pleasure comes over me. I try hard not to feel the throbbing of my tits, or the biting of my nipples or the way that no matter how hard I pull my hands they don’t move, but I can’t. It all comes through, making me cum again, even stronger. Especially as the knot against my clit feels like someone’s fingers.

“You have 5 seconds slave, before you make me mad,” the ice-cold man comments and I hear the menace in his voice. Most men would love to see a woman orgasming in front of them, he doesn’t care. And that makes the orgasm worse as it gets even more intense due to the danger.

Fear tries to rise to get me to move. But that’s like saying move when your feet have five-hundred-pound weights attached to them. Fighting the best that I can, I stand as much as I can.

“I-I-I-I-I’mmmmmm, oh gosh, oh fuck, oh fuck…..I….I’m S-S-S-S-Slave #789,” I say between moans, trying hard to get the words out, knowing if I don’t, he’ll break bones or even kill me.

“I…I….I’m a sex slave…..purchase me,” I stammer in a high pitch tone as my orgasm hits the peak. The intense waves roll over one after the other, moving faster than I’ve ever felt. My eyes roll some and then words just sort of spew from my mouth.

“You’ll own my tits, pussy, ass and whatever else you want to fuck all day and night,” I say, or at least those are the words I hear. I’m not even sure I say them but they come from me as I would never ever say something like that. Ever.

“I’ll be a helpless stupid cunt that can’t stop you and will do what you say because I have to,” I keep on, moaning a loud moan right after I say the disgusting sentence. My legs spread as far as they can now, not to accent my words but because I can’t help but do this. A part of me wants to show the world what he’s done to me.

My body jerks as the waves keep coming, to which I feel my tits jiggling and jiggling even if tied. I do a pathetic sort of dance on camera as I move about, still fighting the orgasm, with no clue what he’s putting as captions for me. The orgasm refuses to leave as wave after beautiful wave moves over me, making me damn-near shriek in pleasure.

Finally, the orgasm fades, and leaves me a sweaty mess. Panting hard as I fear I may even black out, I rest against the wall. With my heart going 800 beats a minute, I tell myself that this probably isn’t really happening. That I’m in a puddle of my own sick at the bar, passed out.

“Well, I think that was a first,” The ice-cold man says about a minute later as he turns off the lights and stands up. He calmly removes his suit jacket as if he’s about to do something physical. And like I thought, he sure does have a gun as I see the holster.

“I’m sure that stunt of yours will raise your price a good $20,000,” he muses thoughtfully while looking at me. Him saying that brings back that stone cold fear that this is really happening. He’s really going to sell me. That this isn’t a prank or a joke. I’m going to be sold as a sex-slave and the life I had is over.

“Since you have never had multiple partners at once, I need to break you in some,” the man then comments. He calmly moves towards me as I’m still against the wall. The monster grabs my hair in a vice-like grip and pulls to force me to walk. I stumble off the stage but he’s so strong that he holds me up for a moment by my hair, dragging me along.

I’m walked over to the opposite corner in the room where three’s a table. Well, a very small table. Looks more like a work-horse thing that you do construction on. He drags me over to it and then pushes me, making my naked body smack against it.

“Bend over it all the way, none of that, ‘just a little bent’ stuff, all the way slave,” he orders and then opens a large metal cabinet that’s in the corner.

Well, this is embarrassing. I’ve bent over for my boyfriend many times, but he never told me to like that. It was just, you know, we are having sex and wanted a new position so I bent over something. But being told to bend over? Goodness, that really does make me feel like a whore…like a sex-slave.

Gulping I walk up to it as it is just a little more than hip-high. Taking a deep breath, I bend over it. I bend over some, but I know its not good enough, so I force myself further, and further. I go all the way until my hips and stomach are pressed against the table, where my body makes an L shape on its side. Only bent like this, I feel my tied tits dangling off the side.

The man returns to me, and pulls bungie cords from under the table. He pulls on one until its laid over my back, which he connects to the other side of the table. He does this 3 more times over my back to ensure I won’t be standing up anytime soon. I even try to test this, and they are tied tight, making sure I’ll be bent over till he deems this to be over.

Then my legs are kicked apart. I feel him bungie cording them to the legs of the table now, making sure they stay open. As he does this, I wonder why he’s starting to be so mean now. Before he ordered me around verbally and didn’t touch me, but now he’s getting very physical and mean. I wonder if me cumming annoyed him. That’ll be a first.

“Hey HEY!” I yell out in shock of what I feel. He pulls on the rope that’s pulled between my ass cheeks to move it to the side a little, and squirts something right on my most private of places; my ass. He doesn’t say anything, but I hear him doing something as the goo is very cold.

“Oh no. Oh please no,” I begin to beg as I feel something press against my ass. It presses hard too and it doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s a dildo of some sort. In reaction I do struggle, but I’m too firmly tied down. And the dildo keeps getting pushed against that tight hole.

I whimper as he presses it in harder and harder, forcing the hard thing inside a place that isn’t meant to have anything inside. He does get the damn thing inside, despite me clenching as he’s so damn strong. It is slowly shoved inside me, going inch by inch.

I groan and even cry as I feel it, as it feels like it’s ripping open my ass. Violation doesn’t describe the feeling of it at all. And what’s worst is feeling it again is making me want to cum thanks to that fucking rope.

As there’s nothing I can do, I take deep breaths as the dildo is shoved up my ass. It takes him about half a minute, but he gets the thing maybe 4 or so inches inside of me, and leaves it there. Just leaves it, pressing against my walls and making me feel violated in a whole new way. Once he finishes, I find that I’m letting out a long groan at the feeling since nothing has ever been there.

“Come on, no,” I protest as I feel him press something against my pussy now as the rope is pulled more. Another dildo is pressed against that precious hole, which is very, very wet. With ease he’s able to slide the damn thing in, which is actually kinda large. Much larger than anything I’ve ever used. He shoves it in without saying anything, till it is maybe 4 inches inside me.

Lowering my head I feel the feeling that most women will never feel; both holes filled. It’s unlike anything I can say I’ve felt. It’s beyond humiliating and very uncomfortable. I can actually feel the two walls sort of press against each other in a unique feeling. It feels personal and violating, like he knows exactly how to punish you. Yet there’s a sick sort of excitement from it, as if you are truly a whore now, someone that’s was conquered sex.

“Ouch!” I cry out as the man grabs my hair and lifts. His strong hand lifts my entire upper body upward by my hair until I’m looking right up at him. It makes it feel like my hair is going to be yanked right out.

“Shut up,” he growls, his face showing his great annoyance. The man has scared me since I first saw him, but now it reaches slasher villain levels. It’s clear to me now that I must have been making too much noise for his liking and he’s pissed. Oh dear.

“You wanted this, so shut up and take it you dumb cunt,” he says and slaps me across the face. The sting of it blinds me for a moment, not so much from the pain but from what he just said. How dare he say such a thing, especially after all he’s done to me! Fury rises up and I can’t hold back what I’m going to say. The words flow out, just like before.