Seventy Three - Oakham - Lewd Fiction

The gallery was quiet, but that was quite usual for January. Presents were bought last month and people were replenishing the coffers. Kate and Helen used the time to plan for the year ahead, carry out maintenance on the gallery and book in artists for new exhibitions. Kate knew that Helen would be desperate to find out how her first night went at The Boardroom. She used to pass on just enough detail to paint a general picture of her exploits, but as time passed that no longer seemed to be sufficient and Helen probed deeper and deeper for the whole story. Kate had stopped feeling uncomfortable with sharing the knowledge. Helen no longer seemed to judge her or indeed even try dissuading her from continuing with the adventure. Before they’d even sat down with their mid-morning cup of tea Helen had broached the subject.

“So, tell me, did you go to that club last night?”

“I most certainly did.”

“And…what was it like, what did you have to do? Come on.”

“Well the place itself was very plush; I can see why it costs so much to be a member. I had to do some waiting on tables, serve drinks and got shagged until sore, all in all a good night. What did you do?”

“Stayed in and washed my hair. No seriously, how did Richard take it, you know, you making love to other men?”

“I haven’t ever and never will ‘make love’ to other men. They use me to fuck; I only make love with my husband.”

“Sorry, that was insensitive of me. So he’s OK with it?”

“Yes, he is. I’m not a prostitute, but I’m being prostituted, and we’re both happy with that.”

“You both seem it, yes. I’m rather envious of you in a lot of ways.”

“He dropped a bombshell on me last night though, something I hadn’t considered. He has the right to use any of the other women, just like I’m being used.”

“Hmm…of course, and how do you feel about that? What’s good for the goose and all that?”

“I spent a long time thinking about it last night and came to the conclusion that it’s not quite the same. If somebody uses me, it’s not of my choice; although I’ve chosen to be available, I haven’t chosen a particular person. If Richard chose to use someone else, what would his reasoning be? Does he fancy her? Is he seeing if she’s better than me? Is it because she’s young? Anyway he says he doesn’t intend to take up the offer as he ‘has enough on his plate with me’. What a cheek, but I am glad.”

“You’re a lucky woman Kate, I’m sure most blokes would jump at the chance. He must really love you.”

“I know he does and I know I’m lucky, he never ceases to surprise me. Since starting this I’ve surprised myself as well as you. You know how I like to do things properly and be the best at whatever I’m doing, well this is no exception. Stupid as it sounds, if I’m going to be a slut, I want to be the best slut out there, make people proud of me, show them how well I can do it.” They both laughed at the absurd statement.

“You’re mad, do you know that?”

“Yes, I know, but you’d be surprised at the buzz I get from dealing with the emotional side. I’ve been scared, annoyed, ashamed, proud, satisfied…it goes on. It’s not just the sex. The more difficult the situation the greater the satisfaction of seeing it through, it’s challenging and that’s good for anybody.”

“When you talk like that you make it sound like a hobby or a game.”

“Oh no, it’s far from it. It’s not something you do at the weekend and then go back to work on Monday, life as normal. It’s a lifestyle choice and it’s serious. There are risks of course but there are also rewards.”

“You will be careful won’t you Kate?”

“You know I will. This is all taking place under proper controls and with everybody’s safety in mind.”

Friday night would be busy they said, it always was when a new slave was being introduced. Kate had no idea what they meant by that. She had been required to attend; that was all she needed to know. Her induction the previous evening had familiarised her with the Boardroom’s layout and procedures, giving her a lot more confidence to handle whatever the evening may bring.

“Are you ready?” Richard asked, after he’d been waiting a good ten minutes while she made last minute adjustments to her hair and make-up.

“As ready as I ever will be. Are you staying tonight?”

“Oh yes, I wouldn’t miss your introduction, I had a personal invitation this morning.”

“So, what does an introduction consist of, what do I have to do?”

“I don’t know, it didn’t say–exciting isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, I’m wetting my pants, can’t wait.” The sarcastic comment was, in reality, not far from the truth. But she wouldn’t want to admit it to him; she’d rather play things down, pretend indifference. She wasn’t fooling him though.

After leaving Richard in the reception area, Kate made her way through to the changing room. Two girls who she hadn’t met before were preparing themselves, just as she had last night. They all introduced themselves, and chatted about the club in general. Kate undressed before removing her dress and boots from the locker. Just as she pulled the tight garment over her head Mrs. Banks entered the room.

“You won’t need that tonight Catherine, not for your introduction.”

“Sorry, I just assumed…what shall I put on?”

“Just these,” she said, dropping the five cuffs on the floor at her feet, “that’s all you’ll be needing.”

Kate immediately worked out the implication, and she froze. She remembered the young girl who was punished the night before, was it her turn?

“Gina, put them on her will you, she seems to be incapable.”

Once the thick leather wrist and ankle cuffs were in place, Gina strapped the wide collar round Kate’s neck.

“Right, take her to the dining area will you and secure her. Let the customers see what’s for desert.” Mrs. Banks left them to the task, confident it would be carried out to her satisfaction.

“Sorry about this,” Gina whispered, as she led Kate through to the dining room, “all new slaves have to go through it. It’s not so bad.”

Being consoled before the event did nothing to lessen Kate’s unease. The dining room was quiet at such an early hour, with only three members about to take their seats at one of the tables. The open redbrick wall felt cold against her back as she was fixed in position. She’d got used to being seen naked by The Colonel and Janet but this was taking things to a new level. The room would shortly fill, exposing her to the gaze of total strangers. Would any of them recognise her as the lady from the art gallery who now had her hard nipples and naked sex on display for whoever may wish to see–what a slut she must be.

Soon the room began to fill. Couples, groups and individuals, studied the menu, chose their wines and quietly conversed, waiting for their starters, much the same as in hundreds of other restaurants across London. Were there any others with a naked lady hanging from the wall? Perhaps not. Most men were dressed in suits or dinner jackets, their partners in classic evening wear, making the contrast to the naked Kate even more pronounced.

The evening passed slowly, maybe the large station clock on the far wall had been purposefully placed in view, to make time pass more slowly and prolonging the anticipation. She could see people discussing her, gesturing in her direction, perhaps speculating on her fate. One or two even came over to take a closer look. They touched her naked body and passed comment on how well it would mark. They weren’t helping to ease her anxiety.

Finally coffee and brandy were served and she knew the time was drawing close. Given the choice of letting time drag, putting off the inevitable for as long as possible or wishing the time away and getting the deed underway, she couldn’t decide. She didn’t have to, soon Gina returned. She released her arms and carefully placed a blindfold over her eyes before fixing the wrist cuffs together behind her back. The darkness offered some relief, preventing her from having to decide where to look, something she’d struggled with all evening. She heard the metallic click at her neck before feeling the pull of the leash, ushering her forward. Following, while blindfolded, proved to be harder than expected. She wanted to walk gracefully and with dignity but only stumbled and hesitated.

Her remaining senses seemed to be enhanced and she heard the murmuring as they entered the crowded room. She could feel the heat emanating from the people around her as she was led to the platform. She walked tall, determined to control her nerves and show no fear. Once again she felt her wrists released and her arms drawn high, one to each side. Her ankle cuffs were fixed together and secured to the floor. There she stood; a perfect naked Y shape ready to face her destiny.

With the blindfold removed, she saw the crowded room before her. Dinner suits, evening dresses, crossed legs, stocking tops, all very classy and tasteful she thought. Surely she should be one of them, not the one standing before them naked and defenceless.

To the side she saw a man take to the platform and then listened as he informed the gathering of slave Seventy Three’s availability.

She’s given herself for their pleasure, he told them, a no limits group slave, all holes available, happy to be whipped and beaten… As he continued with his monologue, Kate realised how degrading his words were and how truthful.

He ended his introduction with ‘and so ladies and gentlemen, I give you slave Seventy Three’. The crowd applauded, stamped their heels and jeered. As the noise died down an expectant hush filled the room. During the prolonged wait Kate told herself to remember her training, she’d done it before and she would endure it with dignity.

Crack. The leather whip struck her flesh without warning, coiling around her torso and flicking the end brutally against her ribs. Her natural reaction to move away from the source of the pain was thwarted by her bonds. Further slashes from the cruel implement added to her distress, cutting around her body before the end snapped, the final sting cutting into her. The noise from the crowd rose, providing encouragement to the wielder of the whip who soon responded to their requests. Before long he drew moans, tears and finally screams from his victim–exactly what they want to see and hear.

The whooshing sounds and the blows stopped, replaced by applause and whooping from the crowd. Was it applause to acknowledge the endurance of the victim or the cruelty of the aggressor? Who could tell–and did it matter.

For the first time since leaving him in the reception area she saw Richard. He stepped onto the platform and stood behind her. He put his arms round her body to support her as her arms were released. His jacket rubbed against her tender flesh, stinging and comforting.

“You did so well, you looked beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. She felt his arousal pushing against her back. As the wrist cuffs were once again fastened behind her back the master of ceremonies announced that she would walk among the gathering, for them to appreciate.

Richard guided her from the platform, and down into the crowd. A sudden fear overcame her, craving the anonymity afforded by the blindfold. As she moved into the crowd it started. Hands grope her, pulled at her nipples, squeezed her breasts and slapped her tortured buttocks. The women preferred to feel her marks: the raised welts, often smiling as they did so. Once they reached the centre of the room Richard pushed her down, over a table, holding her in position while fingers probed her openings. Her deep shame derived not from her treatment but at her response to it–the moisture flowing from her a testimony to her depravity. One slender hand continued working at her, probing ever deeper until finally she capitulated, her body shaking, jerking and spent.

Her pleasure was outweighed by the shame she felt in knowing that all those people could see the level of her arousal even under those conditions.

Being used by the members had become a more and more frequent occurrence. It had been two months since that first time when she was taken by the stranger in the hotel. True to his word Richard had made full use of their home gym to leave her bound and at the disposition of those allowed to use her. Her abusers tended to be from the same small group of trusted acquaintances. One of them, Keith Murray, she loathed. The short stocky man who had mauled her that morning so long ago, often treated her disgracefully, leaving her feeling dirty and used in a different way than she’d envisaged in her fantasies. It seemed to be a strange perception from one seeking the most degrading treatment possible and hard to explain. She even found it hard to justify to herself, it was only a feeling with no sensible reasons to back it up.

Richard loved the power he gleaned from putting her through those ordeals, especially when they were particularly sadistic in their use of her. Some delighted in degrading her, making her crawl along the floor or spread her legs in front of them and masturbate. Most however, just wanted to use her for sex, to have the use of a beautiful, compliant woman seemed to be enough. Even for those she was still fixed over the bar for when they arrived, they decided if and when to release her. However she was to be used, she always carried out her duty with passion. She rarely reached a climax and physically often felt little at all. However, as soon as the men were satisfied and left, having provided the foreplay, she and Richard would make love with a fury so intense it never failed to satisfy both. Lying in bed following one such session Richard probed her thoughts.

“When you were first told about being used like that, I remember you were horrified, do you still think like that?”

“I wasn’t sure about it to start with, naturally, but I suppose I’ve got used to it now. I love that I’ve no say in the decisions, no control over who’ll use me.”

“You could still say no, you’ll always have that option.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be given the opportunity to object. I’m happy to do whatever, however disgusting it is. It satisfies my needs without the guilt.”

“Even with Keith Murray?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen how you react to him; you hate him being near you.”

“Oh Richard, I’m sorry, I’ve tried not to let it show, he just repulses me. I don’t know why, and I know that goes against what I’m supposed to want out of this.”

“That’s odd, I would have thought you’d get more of a thrill from that.”

“I don’t know what it is, it’s humiliating being given away, on loan, but it just feels different with him, creepy. I can’t put my finger on it. He makes me feel very uneasy, especially when you leave me alone with him, I don’t feel safe.” Richard gave a laugh. “How can you be abused in a safe way? That’s a bit of a contradiction, isn’t it?”

“It is, I know, but this whole thing’s full of contradictions isn’t it? Look at me agreeing to do it. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love you and trust you. I hate it and feel degraded, but I’ve given you my permission to hate it, it’s almost like consensual rape, there’s another contradiction. Is there such a thing as consensual rape?”

“Blimey you’re a deep thinker today, I’m impressed.”

“Do you know the best example of ‘opposites’ in all this?” She asked.

“Go on, amaze me.”

“You.”

“Why me?”

“Because, you’re so nice. If you were a sadistic shit who didn’t care about me I wouldn’t do this. You’re not like that though. I trust you to hurt me, or have me hurt. I know it’s because you love me. It takes a lot of courage and strength to have me beaten and the fact that you can do it is a good thing, it shows that you’re thinking of my needs. That’s why I love you.”

“My God listen to us; I think I’m getting as nutty as you.”

“Of course you’re not, you’re the same old you, and don’t you ever change.”

“I think I already have.”

“How?”

“I think I must get a thrill out of punishing myself. I love watching you get ready, preparing yourself for another man. I love to watch you putting on your make-up, pulling on your stockings and doing your hair, knowing it’s going to benefit somebody else. I love fixing you to the bar downstairs, you’re so compliant–accepting of your fate, and when I leave you alone it’s to come up here to imagine what’s happening to you, to wonder whether me not being there will increase your suffering.”

“You’re not punishing yourself…” She couldn’t think how to justify her statement, perhaps he was right. Then he continued.

“And when you get back I love to make you tell me the details, even show me the evidence of how some stranger has defiled my wife. How he’s used what’s mine and should be mine alone. Perhaps that’s what I’m punishing myself for, for agreeing to go along with this.”

“You know what we need don’t you?” She asked after a brief pause.

“What’s that?”

“A cup of tea, off you go.” He got out of bed and put on his robe before realising he was doing her bidding.

“You’re supposed to be the bloody slave.”

“But you’re the nice one,” she whined. As he went down the stairs she called after him. “And I wouldn’t mind a biscuit.”

“What time do you have to leave for the airport?” Kate asked.

“Taxi should be here at four thirty.”

“I wish you could come with me instead, I prefer it when you’re there.”

“I know, but they’re going to keep me up to date, so behave yourself.”

“I always do, you know that.”

“Do you want a glass of wine? You won’t need to drive to the Carlton, you can walk in ten minutes.”

“That would be nice, I could do with a glass.” Returning with the drinks, Richard sat on the bed and watched her prepare for her assignment. Freshly showered and made up she started to dress, easing the dark stockings along her shapely legs before smoothing out the creases and hooking the tops to the suspender straps. As her instructions stated, no bra or panties. With a cardigan, the dress would be warm enough; the late spring weather had been kind. After slipping on her heels she stopped to check herself in front of the long mirror.

“What do you think, will I do?”

“There’ll be no complaints, I’m sure; you look as beautiful as ever.”

“Do you know this Benjamin Macey?” she asked.

“Not personally, but I’ve heard of him at The Boardroom, nothing bad.”

“Good, perhaps he’ll just buy me a slap up meal and be satisfied with my intelligence and wit.”

“I doubt it but there might be some slap involved, you’d better get going or you’ll be late.”

She took one last look in the mirror, and was pleased with the result. The dress, ending above the knee, showed enough leg to tease but not short enough to draw attention. The make-up looked heavier than she’d choose for daytime, but that seemed to be a normal requirement for assignments. She grabbed her bag she set off.

“I’m off then, you have a good trip and I’ll see you on Sunday,” she said, giving him a hug and kiss, “see if you can Skype me, I’ll leave the laptop on in the evenings.”

“Will do, love you.”

Even though the walk to the hotel was short it gave time for the customary doubts to fill her mind. What would be expected of her? Would he be alone or would she be required to provide services to others? Would he be pleased, find her attractive enough, would he be pleasant, kind, rough… The possibilities were endless, and taunting herself with negative thoughts would make no difference to the eventual outcome. She would carry out whatever orders she was given and do whatever was asked of her, determined not to let him down, let Richard down, or let herself down.

The faint swishing sound of her stockings sliding over each other brought her thoughts back to the present, and reminded her that she must order some new supplies from Janes: she was down to her last couple of pairs.

All too soon the hotel came into view, starting the familiar fluttering in her stomach, the tightening in her throat and the beating in her chest, she loved it, playing the slut for whoever wanted her.

The reception area was quiet–the modern interior light and airy. A young man behind the desk greeted her warmly.

“I’m here to see Mr. Macey,” she told him, “I am expected.”

“Of course, if you’d like to come this way please.” That was a different turn of events Kate thought, as she followed the young man. She expected him to call a room number, telling him he had a guest waiting in reception. She now had the impression that this man was of more importance than the average guest, he was certainly known to the staff.

As they entered the lounge area, Kate scanned the room eager to guess the identity of the man before being introduced by the clerk. There were many possibilities, the lounge being far busier than the quiet reception would lead one to believe. Kate chose the gentleman sitting in front of a low table tapping the keyboard of his laptop. Looking to be late forties, average height and quite attractive she would be pleased to be proved correct. As soon as the thought came into her mind she reprimanded herself; it shouldn’t matter what he looked like.

“Mr. Macey, your guest has arrived,” the clerk announced, as they approached an area occupied by two large, soft and comfortable looking sofas.

“Thank you, Mark.” First name terms with the staff too–impressive. The man rose to greet her. The clerk probably thought of it as a regular business meeting, particularly as the man was not alone.

“Mrs. Adams, nice to meet you, this is Miss Annabelle Collen, my assistant.” The young, attractive girl shook Kate’s hand, smiling warmly. “Please take a seat, we were just finishing here.” Turning back to Annabelle, he continued, “so if you get those off today, make the arrangements to see Campsec in the morning and we’re all up to date.”

“Yes Sir.” She replied, collecting her papers together, and, after putting them in her case, she stood and left. More questions answered for Kate, and relief that the girl was not to be involved. Was she even aware of Kate’s role, or the reason for her being there?

“Sorry about that, but we all have to make a living. Would you like a drink or any other refreshment?” Kate wondered if there had been some sort of mistake. Was the man a member of Oakham, or had she been sent there for reasons other than those she expected?

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

“Right, we can go to the room then.” Surprisingly the statement put Kate at ease.

Once in the lift she managed to sneak a better look at the man. Early fifties, greying hair, tallish, well dressed, the typical businessman as could be seen in numerous hotels across the capital. The room was well appointed and large with a seating area as well as the bed. There were no personal items to be seen, perhaps he was not staying there, only using the room for the afternoon.

“Take your dress off please,” he said, getting straight to the point, “and stand in the middle, over there.” After an unsure start, that was more like Kate had expected. Slowly she removed her cardigan, placing it over the back of the chair in front of the desk. Sliding the zip down the back of her dress she was aware of him standing still, watching her every move. As the dress dropped to the floor she bent to retrieve it and placed it on the chair. He said nothing. As instructed she moved to the centre of the room. As always she felt the uncertainty of what to do with her arms. Every time she was made to stand naked she hoped to be told to put her hands behind her head–it took away the indecision. With no instruction forthcoming she held them together, behind her back, resting on her buttocks. She stood still, dressed only in her stockings and heels and facing away from him she wondered what he was doing.

She heard him pour a drink. He came into view at her side, then sat on one of the sofas, sipping his drink and looking at her.

After a few uneasy minutes, he rose and walked around her, admiring her body. He stroked the back of his fingers over her nipples and smiled when they hardened, giving away her pleasure and embarrassing her.

“Kneel down,” he said, before moving over to the table and putting down his drink. Standing in front of her once more he said, “take it out.” She slid down the zip, releasing him. “Suck it.” She took the rapidly hardening cock into her mouth and began the task she had become very accustomed to performing. When his arousal built he became more active, using her mouth to achieve his pleasure, she the passive vessel, waiting to feel his release. It didn’t come. He stopped using her and put himself away.

“It’s true,” he said, “you are as good as I’d heard.” The compliment boosted her confidence. She remained where she was, knowing better than to move without permission. He moved over to the other side of the room. She heard his muffled voice and assumed him to be on the phone. She heard more drink being poured into the glass before he sat once again and watched her, just kneeling in front of him.

A knock on the door made her jump, if he opened it she’d be in full view of the hallway outside. The click of the lock confirmed her fears and the door opened.

“Ah, Annabelle, come in.” The young girl entered the room and walked around Kate, observing her with indifference. What was she thinking, looking at a naked woman, old enough to be her mother, exhibiting herself in a hotel room? There could be no doubt that she knew why Kate was there, she was kneeling in the room in only her stockings and heels, probably with lipstick smudged around her mouth.

“I’m sure that Mr. Adams would like to see how his wife’s behaving.” Then, to Kate directly, he said, “is your phone in your bag?”

“Yes Sir.” Annabelle took the phone from Kate’s bag, used it to take a photograph of her kneeling in the centre of the room, and sent it to Richard.

“You can prepare her now Annabelle.” Unsure of his meaning Kate remained still and waited. Annabelle opened her case before returning to Kate.

“Kneel forward,” she told her, “put your head on the floor and part your knees.” Doing so made Kate’s backside stick up in the air and her moist sex open. Annabelle removed the top from a tube and spread cool lubricant around the small, tight hole. Her thin fingers then slowly moved in and out, widening the passage.

“Is she ready?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good, open her then.” What did that mean? Annabelle stood up, pulled down the zip and removed her skirt. She wore no panties, her beautifully shaped long legs emphasised by sheer black tights, contrasted with her white blouse. Throughout, she showed no reaction to her orders, she just carried them out. Returning to her case she removed a life sized black plastic cock. She strapped it around her slim waist before pulling and securing a second strap between her legs. She approached Kate and knelt behind her. Kate felt the cool plastic moments before it eased into her tight passage. It felt good, smooth and stiff. It filled her. Annabelle slowly moved back and forth, stretching the opening and easing the way for her boss. Kate caught sight of Mr. Macey taking another photograph before sending it to Richard.

“He’ll be so proud,” he commented as he pressed ‘send’. Whether that was a sarcastic comment or a compliment Kate would never know.

“She’s ready Sir.” He put the phone back into Kate’s bag and walked over to the two women. With no instructions issued, Annabelle undid the zip on his trousers and took him out, then used her mouth to get him stiff and ready. Kneeling behind Kate, she felt his hand on her back steadying himself and Annabelle’s fingers holding him, guiding him into her. Pushing hard he slid in, her small opening swallowing the full length in one thrust.

Temporarily superfluous to their needs, Annabelle stood and moved to sit in the sofa directly in front of Kate. Although other seating was available Kate saw the relevance of her choice. Leaning back with legs crossed and arms casually hanging over the side she sat and watched. Her long, nylon clad legs were in full view as Kate took the pounding from behind.

He didn’t take long to reach his climax, Kate felt the thick fluid shoot inside her. Annabelle stood, moved to kneel down beside him and waited for him to withdraw. Once again she reacted without instruction. Was she a slave like her, Kate wondered; she didn’t wear panties or bra and seemed well trained. Bending down to where the rapidly deflating cock rested on Kate’s backside she started licking, not rising again until both of them were thoroughly cleansed, consuming all trace of their mixed fluids.

As he stood and adjusted his clothing Annabelle put on her skirt, then went over to the mirror and refreshed her lipstick, once again looking the efficient business assistant. Kate remained where she was, no instruction to move had been issued. As they moved toward the door he addressed her.

“Thank you Mrs. Adams, you were as good as they promised. Please feel free to leave or use the room as you wish.”

Being a true gentleman he stood to one side allowing Annabelle to pass through the door first. The act impressed Kate, the girl had just used her mouth to clean his cock and Kate’s rear entrance, now he was showing her respect and courtesy, she admired that.

Once they had left Kate slowly rose from her kneeling position, taking a few moments to use her legs properly. As Richard would have left long ago she decided to shower there and even watched some early evening television before leaving.

On her way through the reception area, Mark, the desk clerk, smiled as he said goodbye. Did he know what went on with that man? Was it common for women to arrive there to meet him? Them? She didn’t care, she walked home smug and sore but pleased with herself.

Being summoned to serve at The Boardroom became a source of elation to Kate. Never a hint of boredom or familiarity crossed her mind. She likened the experience to that of runners and those addicted to working out in the gym–the more she experienced it the more she needed it. She loved the disparity between the two aspects of her life–Kate the respectable wife, the successful gallery owner, the perfect hostess at dinner parties and her favourite; when obliged to become Kate the slave. Freed of daily responsibilities and demands, the only expectation of her–to endure humiliation and pain.

To be in the company of girls and women with similar needs proved to be an experience she never tired of. After spending so long feeling alone with her needs, suddenly being surrounded by like-minded others was like discovering unknown relatives. It also pleased her to learn that the group of allies were so typical of those she met in daily life. They were mothers, wives, city workers and girlfriends for most of the time, then, when called, they willingly reported to The Boardroom to become sex slaves. She considered them the lucky ones, how many others from the list of ‘normal’ women out there would love to be free to enjoy giving themselves to be used as they were? There had to be far more than would care to admit to it.

Kate’s duties mainly centred around the dining and bar areas, serving food and drink to the never ending stream of members the club attracted. The constant groping and manhandling she experienced elevated the task, raising it above mundane toil. Regularly, she would be interrupted and prevented from completing a task by a member making use of her. Once satisfied they usually pulled out of her and sent her on her way. She left, knowing that she could feel–and others see–the evidence, trickling down her legs.

Having her body on display was something she would never be comfortable with. Having her breasts out and her nipples exposed while walking through a crowded room was so alien to how normal people behaved. Having the hair removed from her sex to display her most private parts reduced her dignity to an even lower level. Being nearly naked in front of the female members she found a lot harder to bear. She expected the men to look, admire, taunt and even ridicule but the women she felt were judging, comparing and belittling, always reminding her of Janet and what she would make of her disgraceful behaviour.

The more impersonal her treatment, the more offensive and cheapening, the stronger the feelings of humiliation and therefore the bigger the turn on. She could think of no other non-sexual activity which could be substituted to achieve the same result. She cast her mind back to the time Colonel Mason made her cross London, naked beneath her short coat–the sexual thrill was there even when she was alone. Women were often humiliated at the Boardroom with no direct contact. Partners reprimanding a slave in public for poor service or a misdemeanour could be most effective. A common sight at the club was the slave made to stand with her legs apart and hands behind her head, the intimate parts of her body open. No form of bondage apart from her willpower forcing her to remain on display to anybody passing.

Kate knew why the women accepted it–for the freedom it offered. Everyday life, normal life, was hard work, there was so much to cause stress. Maintaining a positive self-image was essential–if hundreds of women’s magazines were to be believed. Considering the opinions of others seems to be thought of as crucial to happiness. Adhering to the values and standards of an ever more demanding society is viewed as essential, if people are not to be seen as different.

Offering themselves as slaves freed them from those demands. She and the other slaves she’d met were not victims in any sense: none used it as a release from poor relationships, poverty or boredom. Indeed most were successful, from wealthy, favoured backgrounds; well-educated, attractive and sensible. Most of them seemed to relish the break from having to maintain the persona of the successful person they were, they needed a rest from being relied upon, and enjoyed some dirty sex as an added bonus.

Yes, Kate confirmed, it was what she wanted and was desperate to maintain, whatever it may bring to her or want from her. The benefits were already evident. Always in her mind was the excitement of the unknown, anticipating what her next assignment might require from her.

Her relationship with Richard had never been so strong. Their closeness increased through his demands of her, the humiliation he caused her, and of course the sex he shared with her. Never before had he induced so many powerful orgasms: she’d even stopped masturbating. She was even satisfied with not being allowed her release which only fuelled her feelings of submission, a win win situation she was happy to live with. Her new found sexual freedom enabled her to relax and enjoy the experience with no blame and no expectations–only a duty to be fulfilled.

Strangely, living outside of society’s accepted moral standards made her, and the other slaves, more confident, more self-assured and improved their self-esteem. They all wanted to be the best slave, the one who took the most punishment, who was treated more harshly, and was subjected to the dirtiest sexual practice.

Giving her body and herself to be used as an outlet for the basest of needs left Kate feeling proud, and she couldn’t imagine that pride ever being matched through more conventional outlets.

Kate knew the day would eventually come–it was inevitable.

Saturday 1st March, eight months since starting her adventure. She reported to the Boardroom as usual, and along with the other slaves, she prepared her body and mind for the discomfort she knew would come. Being assigned duties in the dining room once again pleased Kate, she liked the variety of tasks and if she were honest, she enjoyed the groping and mauling she received. That night was no exception. By the time the meals were finished and members had drifted away to the lounge areas she was already moist between her legs and ready for the inevitable maltreatment to begin.

On that occasion, the usual routine of being sent to the lounge area by the supervisor was broken. A young, tall man went into the dining room and spoke quietly to the supervisor. Nodding her approval she left the two of them alone. Kate became curious of what was to follow; she knew that he could do as he pleased with her or to her, but not there in the dining area.

As he approached she saw the blindfold. Once the darkness surrounded her she felt her excitement increase and her stomach flutter, eagerly awaiting the unknown.

Leaving the dining area she knew they were heading to the lounge. Having walked the short distance so many times she could have done it without his hand guiding her. The voices, the quiet background music and the sound of clinking glass were all so familiar.

“Kneel,” he told her, “use your mouth.” Without the ability to see she had to be guided forward to show her where her mouth was required. Because of the blindfold she expected it to be a woman she would be required to serve. The erection forced into her mouth came as a welcome surprise.

“She’s good, you have to give her that,” the voice from behind her said.

“He said she would be, said he always knew it.” The new voice came from the side. The murmurs of agreement reaching her from all directions led her to sense a group of perhaps four or five onlookers. She continued with her efforts, keen to satisfy him before being allowed to move on to other duties. The remarks and judgements started to make her feel uncomfortable. Sensing his climax approaching she increased her efforts, shortly followed by the taste of the bitter fluid in her mouth.

“There you are, who’d have believed it?” The voice came from in front of her, the first words he’d spoken since she’d been placed on her knees in front of him. Her alarm stemmed from the knowledge that she recognised the voice. Further alarm followed because she couldn’t place it.

“She was good, but needs more practice.” The same sneering voice insulted her.

“You said she’d know straight away, looks like you were wrong,” said a voice from behind.

“Oh no, she knows me, she just can’t place who I am.”

He was correct. Who was he? Her mind raced through the possibilities. Seeing somebody out of context can be frustrating when you can’t place them, but only hearing the voice was worse. Local shops, worked close to the gallery, the petrol station, the bank, so many options came and went in such a short period of time. There was no distinguishing accent or dialect–nothing registered.

“You were right about the body though, she’s just as you said.”

“Just as I assumed,” he corrected, “she never gave anything away. No sneaky peek, no short skirt, nothing. Miss prim and proper, now look at her, a filthy cock sucker on her knees in front of me. Watch her face.”

As he spoke, the blindfold was removed. After the split second it took for her eyes to adjust to the light she found herself looking at the face which she instantly connected to the voice. Sebastian Lloyd.

Her first instinct was to turn and run–a pointless reaction. The band and chain on her wrist told her that she had to tolerate it, she had to obey him as she would any other member. Besides, he would have loved that–watching her run.

Seeing him in front of her cast her mind back four years to the last time she had seen the man. Having worked her way up in the law firm she’d earned a supervisory role within her section. Sebastian was employed and allocated to her team. Being a little older than herself she always felt that he begrudged her success. They worked well together without being friends and never saw each other outside of the workplace.

Then the problem came to light. One of the juniors confided in Kate, informing her of the unwanted attention she’d been receiving from the man. Nothing too serious to start with but increasing in severity. Sexual suggestions, inappropriate touching, suggestive looks and leering all accumulated to make the girls life very uncomfortable.

Kate believed the girl; she had no doubt of the validity of her story. Once it had been reported to her Kate had no choice but to confront him. He didn’t admit to anything, but he didn’t deny anything either. He was so sure of himself that he challenged her to take it further, telling her she had no proof, only the word of the girl. His smug, deceitful attitude so annoyed her that she said there was a witness who’d testify to the sincerity of the girls story–her. She’d be willing to support the girl if that were the only way for justice to be achieved. His options were to face an investigation or to leave–with no reference for his CV. He left fuming, threatening her and swearing to get even.

And there she was, at the feet of the very same person, now in a position of power over her. She’d been whipped and beaten, made to engage in all sorts of sordid sexual practises but the thought of having to submit to that man repulsed her.

He could see the realisation dawn on her, the confusion shock and horror that crossed her face, only made the sneering grin widen. As he read her thoughts, so too did she read his: she knew he’d be planning and scheming. Having her on her knees serving him would not be adequate recompense for her victory so long ago. No, he’d want far more than that.

The power he had over her was the result of his paid membership, not in any way earned or respected. The band, chain and ring gave him the right to use her as he wished; she had no choice but to acquiesce. Stalemate. It was new territory for Kate. Normally being forced to do things she didn’t want to do was a huge turn on– her present situation was very different. There was no sexual thrill and no feeling of submission. He was taking advantage–it felt more like abuse.

“I worked with this woman for 18 months,” he told his accomplices, “but, back then she dressed in her business suits, white blouses and flat shoes, always the stuck-up executive strutting around the office. So proper she’d have been horrified if she’d shown too much leg or a glimpse of cleavage. Now look at her, half naked, covered in sperm and freshly beaten; how the mighty fall.” The group laughed along with him, but not with any sincerity, perhaps they too realised that he was out of order. Leaning forward and speaking directly to her he gave his threat.

“I’m going to get even with you Catherine Adams and you’ll regret that you ever crossed me; not now, but when the time’s right. It’ll be on your mind and you’ll always be thinking about it, wondering when it’s coming.”

And she did. For the rest of that night and many others which followed.

As she had all those years ago, she once again saw him as a challenge and, once again, determined that he wouldn’t get the better of her.

Relaying the incident to Richard brought little in the way of sympathy or reassurance. His opinion being that, at the present time, there was nothing he could or should do about it, the man had done nothing to justify a formal complaint. Richard advised Kate to make sure she did nothing to give Lloyd reason for punishing her. It wasn’t the solution she expected or hoped for, but she could see the logic of his conclusion.

The whole situation unsettled her. She knew it would lead to trouble at some point in the future, she just didn’t know when that might be, or how it might unfold. Worse still came the realisation that she had no power to help herself, she was the lowest of the low, there to follow orders and do as she was told.

The following week Kate, Helen and Melissa met for lunch. After the usual sharing of gossip the conversation came around to Kate’s problem with Sebastian LLoyd. Helen remembered the original incident and, at the time, was a great source of advice and comfort to Kate, reassuring her that she was doing the right thing.

“This is a little more difficult to deal with though, isn’t it? The roles have reversed; he’s in the position of power now, however horrible that is to admit,” Helen said.

“I know that but that’s not the real issue. Heck, I’m used to people having power over me, it’s what I want. This is different, there’s no thrill and no feeling of submission from it.”

“But he’s no different from any of the others is he?” asked Melissa, “I mean aren’t you supposed to like this sort of situation?”

“No that’s the whole point Melissa, his behaviour is bordering on being abusive, he’s making me feel uncomfortable. It’s not considered right even in these situations. It’s about how one person’s behaviour makes another feel, and that changes with time and attitudes. Look at it from society’s point of view. In the 50’s and 60’s women were submissive to their husbands, it was normal and acceptable. Mothers even taught their daughters how to behave in the same way, they obeyed the head of the household, and everybody was happy with how that worked. Then along came the women’s libbers, changing opinion, calling it a form of mental abuse, telling women to fight for control.”

“But that’s right isn’t it? We should be free to do what we want.”

“Yes, but the important thing is having the freedom to choose. What if your free choice is to be submissive, that’s now frowned upon, society looks at it differently than they used to, and now it’s seen as a bad thing.”

“Kate’s doing this of her own choice Melissa; she can stop and leave whenever she wants to. A lot of wives aren’t in quite the same position; it’s much harder for them to leave a bad marriage.”

“Yes,” Kate added, “and there’s probably a lot more abuse going on in marriages than there is in consensual slavery. Society sees the whole thing as abusive, but it’s not. If wives went into marriage in the same way as I went into this, weighing up all the pro’s and con’s, asking questions and so on, I bet the instances of divorce and domestic abuse would fall.”

“Then why do you have a problem with this Sebastian Lloyd,” asked Melissa, “if he’s abusive, just leave.”

“That’s the problem, he hasn’t done anything–yet. There’s just the threat of it. I could leave, yes, but I don’t think I’d have to. If he did anything I’m sure he’d be excluded. He’s subtly trying to bully me I suppose, not even touching me, just being there, and trying to spoil the whole experience. He’s just a nasty piece of work. It’s nothing to do with the slave thing, it happens in all walks of life. It’s just that here there’s the potential for him to be abusive, to go over the top, which wouldn’t be the case in most other situations. I don’t want to leave and I’m not going to let him drive me out. I’ve won before and I’ll win again.”

The gallery looked good, very good. Kate and Helen had worked hard with the latest exhibition. More invitations had been sent out than ever before, many to people unknown to them, which meant new customers. As well as the people on their own list of contacts, Richard had invited some of his business partners and, for the first time, there were associates of Graham Weston. Things were looking up and the business doing well. Outside caterers were booked to allow Kate and Helen to circulate, seducing the customers into parting with their hard earned money.

An hour after they opened, the gallery was full, sales had been made and many people asked to be added to the mailing list for future events. It was a success. Richard stood by the door taking in the scene before him–people enjoying themselves, the high quality artwork along the walls and of course Kate and Helen. They’d worked hard to make a success of the gallery and were justifiably reaping the rewards.

During the previous weeks he’d noticed Helen become more aware of her self-image. Her hair style changed more often, her skirts and dresses were getting shorter and she was wearing stockings rather than tights. It had been weeks since he’d seen her in trousers. Accompanying Kate to Colonel Mason’s seemed to have affected her more than she let on.

But it was Kate, his charming wife who captivated him. There she was, looking as beautiful as ever, her simple black dress clinging tightly to every curve of her slim figure. The ash blond hair framed her smiling face; making her look even younger than her years. He watched her circulating and chatting with customers, laughing at the right times, keeping them happy– the perfect hostess.

Seeing her like that, who would guess her secret, her other personality–Kate the slave. It never ceased to amaze him how she could flit between the two. Kate the sophisticated businesswoman could, an hour later, be on her knees in front of a stranger giving him pleasure with her mouth.

Richard went across to join her. An elderly lady was asking about the unusual bracelet and ring, and was there significance to the chain? Was it of Indian origin? Kate gave her a brief story of far eastern symbolism which seemed to satisfy her curiosity.

“I think you need to take a break,” he told her, “I’ll get us a couple of drinks and we’ll go upstairs for you to have a breather.”

“That sounds good, just what I could do with.” They took the narrow staircase up to the room used for storage, now almost empty. Opening the balcony doors let in the cool Spring air, a welcome relief following the previous hour spent in the crowded gallery downstairs.

“I’m so proud of you, and Helen of course, you’ve both worked hard to make a success of this, and it’s good to see it all come together.”

“We’ve all worked hard at it, you’ve played your part too, and we appreciate it.” She leaned on the balcony railing next to him, looking out over the city.

“Where do you see it going from here?”

“I’ve no idea. At present I’m happy just living from day to day, seeing what comes, and enjoying it.” He smiled at her knowing to what she was referring. He moved behind her, took her drink away and held her hands behind her back.

“You shouldn’t do that here, somebody might come in.”

“Is that all you ever think about, you floozy?”

“Mostly, yes.” She heard the door and started to move.

“Stay where you are, don’t move,” he told her, shifting to the side but keeping his grip on her hands.

“Come over and admire the view,” he said, “not many get to see it from here.” The footsteps on the pine floorboards paused, unsure of their next move.

“Feel free. I told you she’ll obey.” Unknown hands rested on her back and moved down, over her buttocks then back up admiring her lithe form. Kate imagined them moving beneath her clothing, caressing her naked flesh and probing her open body, before admonishing herself for her indecent thoughts. She felt a hand ease her forward, forcing her to lean over the balcony. As he did so she felt his erection against her back.

“Help him,” Richard told her. She reached behind, grabbed the hem and pulled her dress up to her waist. The sound of a zip confirmed his intentions. When she felt his hardness against her openings, she parted her legs a little more, before reaching round to take hold of him. She used him to spread her moisture and ease his entry. After guiding him to the entrance she let go before he fully entered in one brutal thrust, forcing her to gasp.

Bizarrely, she thought how unusual it was–not being taken by a stranger, that had become common–but being used in the more conventional manner, it was most often her tighter opening. As he started to thrust she became more thankful that he had chosen that option, he was thick and stiff and would surely have damaged her rear. She pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm.

“You are a slut.” Richard told her. She looked up at him, in his eyes she saw what he was really telling her and she responded.

“He’s splitting me Richard…I can’t take any more…please… He held her tighter as his excitement built. The relentless pounding eventually forced her to climax, just before the stranger filled her with his hot sperm. She slumped forward, drained and weak. The stranger withdrew. She heard the sound of a zip, the rearranging of clothing and footsteps before the door opened and he left.

Richard released his grip on her hands and helped her to stand upright.

“You were fantastic,” he said passing her his handkerchief, “here, don’t get your dress messy.” Looking at the bulge in the front of his trousers, she smiled before replying.

“Are you sure you don’t need that more than me?”

“Don’t be cheeky. Go and sort yourself out, I’ll wait here for you.” She left him with a peck on the cheek.

They returned downstairs to the reception, where the guests were still enjoying the evening.

“Are you going to tell me who it was?” she asked.

“Of course not, where would the fun be in that? See if you can find out.”

She resumed her circulating, looking for tell-tale signs, telling remarks or knowing looks. For the rest of the evening Richard would sidle up to her adding to the difficulty of her task.

“Kate come and meet Andrew,” he taunted.

“Kate, this is Alan one of the waiters, he thought he’d met you before.”

“That gentleman is looking at you Kate, do you know him?”

Some of the introductions were genuine, work colleagues, friends of his, people Graham Weston had introduced. One was not. She tried to spot who was gloating, who couldn’t conceal the fact that they had just taken her.

Later on Helen caught up with her, mentioning her popularity and how the guests were complimenting her. Did Helen know what had happened? Was she in on it? Kate dismissed the thought from her mind, putting it down to coincidence. She assumed that she was reading more into it than there was.

She moved on, taking every smile as a ‘yes it was me’ statement. She put it down to one definite person after another. In the end she gave up, after all, it wasn’t her fault–she was made to do it. Once again she played her ‘get out of trouble free’ card.

“Look at you; all handsome in your dinner suit, I could fancy you all over again.”

“I’m not falling for your flattery, I’ve got a date remember,” Richard told her.

“Don’t I know it, and look at me, the waitress.”

“I’ve told you, you’re not a waitress, you’re a hostess.”

“Oh yes, and what’s the difference, Mr. Smarty-pants?”

“Well, a hostess…” Richard struggled for a reply.

“Yes…go on.”

“A hostess is more blonde and gorgeous.”

“You’re so full of crap,” she said smiling. “I bet Helen’s all dolled up, and look at me, black stockings, black skirt and white blouse, brilliant.”

“You look lovely, and think how good you’ll feel helping to raise money for good causes. Come on, we told Helen we’d be there for seven thirty.”

The Email from Graham Weston asked Kate, and three others, to help out at the annual charity dinner. Being worded in such a way that it did seem to be a request and not an order surprised Kate, not that she would dream of refusing either way. They both knew of the venue–Armourers Hall–but had never been inside. He said her role would be to circulate amongst the guests with drinks and nibbles. Richard received a guest invitation which included a partner and asked Helen to accompany him.

“Hello Helen,” Kate said, kissing her as she got into the car, “I knew you’d look all glamorous and sophisticated, and look at me–the waitress.”

“Take no notice of her Helen, she’s sulking,” Richard explained, “she thinks she looks frumpy.”

“Don’t be silly, you look lovely, and it’s you that people will be looking at, not what you’re wearing.”

“Quite right Helen. There you are darling, nobody will notice your clothes.”

“Well I saw you notice the split in Helen’s dress when she got into the car, and the top of her stockings, which are also seamed if I’m not mistaken,” she added, raising her eyebrows to Helen.

“I thought I’d better make a bit of an effort, it is a posh do isn’t it.”

“You look beautiful,” Kate assured her, “and I’m sure you’ll be much admired, by others at the dinner as well as one in the car,” she added, looking at Richard.

Once inside the building, they saw that it did indeed live up to expectations. The wide staircase, covered in rich red carpet, split at first floor level opening more avenues to be explored in the magnificent building. To one side of the hallway stood Graham Weston and Grace Edwards, both greeting the arriving guests.

“Richard, how nice to see you, and Catherine, you look lovely as usual,” he said, kissing her hand.

“Graham, allow me to introduce my partner for the evening, Helen Lawrence. Helen works at the gallery with Kate.”

“Ah so this is Helen, I’ve heard about you from Colonel Mason, he says you look after Catherine when she’s been for tutoring.” Kate blushed.

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Weston.”

“Well Grace, would you like to take Catherine and run through her duties. Richard and Helen, drinks are being served in the Drawing Room, through there.”

Grace showed Kate into a side room where three other women sat chatting.

“OK ladies, we’re all here now so we can make a start.” Grace introduced the women, the two younger ones Kate knew from her time at The Boardroom, the other, a slightly plump woman in her late thirties, she’d never met.

“You’ll find your clothes in the boxes on the table over there: they are labelled, and should fit you perfectly.”

“But I thought we were going to be waitresses.” Kate said, confused.

“So I see,” Grace looked her up and down, “and you are. I’ll be back for you in ten minutes,” she said, before leaving the room.

The women looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and opened the boxes.

“Christ, is that it,” said the young girl, “I hope it’s warm in there.” She held up a black body stocking in one hand and a pair of black shoes in the other.

“No wonder she only gave us ten minutes, its not going to take long is it?” chuckled the older woman.

They quickly stripped off their clothes and very carefully pulled on their body stockings. Kate looked in the mirror. The material was not sheer but transparent enough to show her dark nipples–and every curve of her body. Everything covered, and everything revealed. With the very high heeled shoes, she had to admit it looked good: those detailed measurements again. Two accessories completed the outfits, a black bow tie and a wrist band. The white disk on Kate’s showed her number–73. Once dressed and ready to go the women helped each other with last minute adjustments. Kate had changed her mind; it didn’t look like the dull waitressing job she’d envisaged.

While following Grace into the Drawing Room the reality of the situation suddenly hit her. As the sound of the guest’s chatter grew louder, her heart beat faster. She looked at the two girls in front of her; breasts bouncing and their round backsides swaying as they walked, just as hers would shortly look to the assembled crowd. Grace stopped them at the entrance.

“In a minute you’ll take a tray each and circulate through the guests, as soon as it’s empty return for a full one. Alternate between drinks and hors d’oeuvre.”

The chinking of a wine glass sent an expectant hush through the room before Graham Weston’s voice announced their arrival.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your welcome drinks and appetisers will now be served by our four lovely lot’s. During dinner they will also serve the wine, giving you ample time to appraise the offerings before deciding on your favourite. Remember to make a note of their number to place your bids in the auction. Ladies, please begin.”

Before Kate had a chance to consider the implications of his statement, Grace spoke.

“Off you go ladies, and good luck.”

With a deep breath Kate set off into the room. The murmurs she took to be a combination of surprise and approval. The complete contrast between her clothing and the formal dinner suits and gowns of the guests compounded her humiliation. She made her way over to Richard and Helen, doing her best to look dignified and in control while desperately trying to ignore the hands touching her buttocks and breasts.

“Bloody hell Kate, you look great.”

“Helen, I’m half naked. People are staring at my nipples and pinching my arse.”

“More than half naked I’d say darling,” Richard chipped in.

“Oh thank you. That makes me feel much better.

“But you said you didn’t want to be a waitress.” Helen smirked.

“He talked about an auction, what’s that all about Richard?”

“You consented to this when you signed up, you gave your body, so now it’s theirs to sell.”

“But people paying for me will be turning me into a common whore.”

“You’ll love it,” Helen told her, “slaves get bought and sold, it’s what happens.”

“I thought I’d come over and get a bit of sympathy from you two, but obviously not. I think I’ll just go and get groped.”

She left them giggling, and returned to circulating with her tray of drinks. The time passed slowly. As she moved among the guests she listened to their laughing and chattering, overhearing comments they made about her body, and what they would enjoy doing with it. Some made her turn round to view her from all angles. One couple asked her to thrust her breasts out and commented on her as she stood there in front of them. Throughout the evening she accepted her treatment with good grace.

What did those women in their elegant gowns and expensive jewellery think of her, dressed as she was and allowing herself to be groped and smacked? Kate didn’t mind, pretending to herself that she was dressed normally helped her carry out her duties with some dignity. She actually enjoyed being the centre of attention–being an exhibitionist turned her on. She saw Richard and Helen watching her, commenting and discussing. She wondered what were they saying.

After what seemed like the longest hour of her life, Kate heard Weston announce that the dinner would now be served. After the guests slowly made their way through to the dining room, Kate and the other three women were left alone. Grace appeared.

“Well done ladies, you went down very well there. If you’d like to go through to the dining room you’ll be given instructions for serving the wine.”

With all the guests seated and therefore stationary, Kate assumed that serving the wine would be an easier undertaking–she assumed incorrectly. The height of the heels forced her to bend down and stretch forward, making her breasts swing freely as she poured.

Guests made comment on her body, her backside, her hard nipples and her damp crotch, filling her with pride if complimentary and horror if not. At one table she was made to bend forward, her display drawing comments on her fresh waxing and prominent lips. The blushing went unseen–but not the arousal.

The meal drew to a close with Port, Brandy and cigars on offer. As guests left their tables to mingle and catch up with friends and business associates, Grace arranged the four ladies on the front of the low stage. The part Kate had been dreading soon arrived, the chinking of the glass, and Weston’s announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we now come to the purpose of our evening, raising money for this years chosen charity. You have a final fifteen minutes to study the lots and make your final decisions.”

The embarrassment of standing still while guests weighed up her body humbled Kate. Following their inspection they casually moved on to look at the next offering, whispering to each other, forming opinions and making judgements. Kate had read stories of slave auctions and fantasised about it happening to her, she found it to be so different in reality. She’d be sold to the highest bidder, theirs to do with as they pleased. She was excited, worried and afraid. The fear came not from who may buy her or what they may want from her, no, it was a fear of not being sold. What if nobody bid for her, how would she cope with the embarrassment of standing there, the auctioneer trying to squeeze bids from the disinterested crowd. The time came to find out, she was first up.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated. Our first lot tonight is Seventy Three.” He stood behind Kate.

“Fully trained and very obedient,” he said, “This is an Oakham slave so there are no restrictions on her use. Look at these long legs, slim waist,” he turned her round, “and this fine round backside.” He squeezed and smacked, then turned her back to face the guests. “And of course her wonderful breasts,” he lifted each in turn, “just look at those nipples.” The crowd applauded. “This is a beautiful, elegant and sophisticated woman and all openings are available for use.”

Her humiliation was indescribable, but at the same time, seeing men shifting in their seats, trying to hide their excitement filled her with pride.

“You’re bidding for the use of Seventy Three for a period of up to six hours at a time to suit you, within the next month. Must be worth a substantial portion of that annual bonus.” The comment brought more applause and approval. “On your table you’ll see bidding forms, envelopes and pens. Place your secret bid on the form, seal it in the envelope and they’ll be collected. Winners will be revealed at the end of the auction.”

Relief flooded through Kate: she wouldn’t have to stand and hear amounts shouted out. As she was led from the room she heard the beginning of the description for the next girl, and already she could see people discussing, people writing and people sealing envelopes.

Once changed into her own clothes Kate joined Richard and Helen in the car, for the journey home.

“Kate you were brilliant, so cool about it all, and you looked so sexy in that outfit,” Helen enthused.

“Well I didn’t feel it, I was scared stiff, worried that I’d be left there looking like an idiot with no bids.”

“You all had bids,” Richard said, “they had a good night, with the ticket sales and the auction. Graham said they raised thousands.”

“How much did I raise?”

“I’ve no idea, he didn’t give any breakdown, but I was outbid so it must have been more than £7.50.”

“Oh very funny, Richard.”

The electronic bleeping told Kate she had a Skype call. Rushing to the laptop, she saw Richard’s name in the window, and clicked ‘accept’.

“Hello darling, how are you?”

“I’m fine, missing you though. These trips seem to pass more and more slowly these days.” Kate thought he sounded tired.

“It’s only another day,” she assured him, “and then you’ll be starting back. How did it go anyway, did you get what you wanted from them?”

“Yes we did, well Ray did, he’s quite a negotiator you know, a real hard nut when he digs his heels in, very impressive.”

“I’ll remember that, I like a strong man you know.”

“Yes, I had noticed. Talking of which, have you heard from your purchaser yet?”

“No, nothing, have you?”

“No, they’ve only got another fortnight though, so they’ll need to arrange it soon.”

“Have you heard who it was who bought me?”

“No, it’ll be a surprise, you like surprises don’t you. Anyway what are you doing?”

“Getting ready. I’m going out with the girls.”

“That’s nice, where to?”

“Only round to the Clifton for a cocktails evening.”

“You’re not needed tonight are you?”

“Don’ think so, haven’t heard anything, must be time off for good behaviour.”

“I think it works the other way, don’t you get time off for bad behaviour?”

“You’re probably right.”

“Look, I have to go, I’ll see you soon and you behave tonight, don’t drink too much, you know you’ll suffer in the morning.”

“Thank you daddy, I’ll be a good girl. See you soon, love you.”

After ending the call Kate continued dressing, gone were the days of jeans being the all round solution for casual wear. She selected a new pair of flesh coloured stockings, a knee length dress and a light-weight jacket. After a final check in the mirror, she considered herself ready.

The weather in mid April could be unpredictable but on that evening the warm breeze made the short walk to the bar most enjoyable. Three of the group had arrived before her, making claim to the large table in the corner. As Helen stood to greet her with the customary kisses, Kate noticed the stockings and skirt: fast becoming her own dress code. Kate remembered back to the time when she told Helen of her intention to join Oakham, and what the consequences of that decision would be. Helen had been horrified and warned her against it. Since then she’d become more than accepting of the situation, perhaps one could even say that she enjoyed it. She had certainly adopted the dress code. Even seeing Kate beaten and sold at auction appeared to hold a fascination. She was certainly a woman of mystery.

The evening progressed in the same manner as many others they’d enjoyed over the last few years. Spending so long over deciding what to try from the extensive menu of cocktails became the norm, and often resulted in reverting back to the tried and tested favourites.

The chatter and laughter often reached embarrassing levels, particularly so when Melissa recounted stories of her latest dates. Kate considered herself fortunate to have such a supportive group of friends, none of whom had judged her in a negative manner since finding out about her other life. In fact most seemed to possess a deep curiosity and always tried to tease out more of the detail. Would any of them approach her in the way she herself had approached Elizabeth, requesting the application procedure?

“OK ladies,” Kate said, standing. “I’ll order the next round, make your final decisions.” After much prompting they did eventually decide.

The bar remained busy, forcing Kate to wait for service.

“That’s an unusual bracelet,” came the voice from her side. Looking round, she saw a stocky gentleman in a business suit sitting on the high stool next to her. She smiled.

“Yes, it is isn’t it.” Not wishing to get into conversation she kept her response as brief as possible without appearing to be rude.

“Does it hold any significance?” he persisted.

“Yes, it shows a commitment to my beliefs.” As he made to reply, the barman asked for her order, saving her from having to continue with the exchange. As soon as she completed her order she left the bar in a hurry, thankful to be free of the man. Within a few minutes the tray of drinks arrived at the table.

“You should have waited and carried it yourself Kate,” Helen teased.

“I didn’t know you used to work in a bar Kate,” Melissa added.

“She didn’t but she volunteered to do a bit of waitressing at a charity do last week, she was very good apparently, very popular with the customers.” Helen looked at Kate to see the reaction. The raised eyebrows and mock threatening look persuaded her to change the subject.

A while later the barman arrived bearing a second tray of cocktails, an identical repeat order.

“I think that’s a duplicate order we’ve already had that delivered,” Kate explained.

“Oh no, this one comes with the compliments of the gentleman sitting at the bar.” Kate looked over to see the same man who’d enquired after her bracelet. “And he asked me to show this to you miss.” He handed Kate a card which momentarily shook her: an Oakham membership card in the name of Owen Saunders. Kate handed the card back to the barman. “And to give you this,” he continued, handing her a business card. The card was again in his name. Written at the top was the curt instruction: Carlton Hotel, room 6, 1 Hour. She looked over to the bar to see him give a faint nod, confirming its meaning.

“Would you please tell him that I understand.”

“Yes miss.” As he departed, the others were eager to know what had just happened.

“What was all that about?” Helen asked.

“He appears to be a member and I’ve been summoned.

“What does ‘summoned’ mean?” Sally wanted to know.

“It’s the slavery thing,” explained Helen, “Kate has to be available for the use of members.”

“Use in what way?”

“Whatever they want.” Kate had nothing to hide from the group any more so decided to be open with them. “It’s a requirement that we have to make ourselves available to members when they want us.”

“You’re kidding, just like that?”

“Just like that. I have to do what I’m told to, that’s what I volunteered for.”

“Even if you don’t know what he might do to you, or with you?” Melissa seemed concerned.

“Yes, it’s exciting finding out.”

“Wow”

“Melissa, don’t start all that wowing again,” Helen chided.

“It’s for their pleasure, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

“But you must enjoy it or you wouldn’t do it.” Sally added.

“Of course I do, well most things, but I do try not to show it most of the time. The pleasure’s supposed to be theirs, but I get to live out my fantasies with no guilt attached, how many people can say that?”

“Surely you know they won’t do anything really bad, I mean at the end of the day it’s only a game isn’t it?” Sally said cheerfully.

“No it’s not, it’s serious,” Helen corrected her.

“I can see you wanting the sex part but not the pain.”

“The pain I could do without and the sex itself isn’t the turn on, being made to do it is. The good sex comes later when I share it all with Richard.”

“Sorry Helen, but wow.”

“Anyway, I have to be going, I don’t want to be in trouble do I,” Kate said, making light of her circumstances. When she left, Helen walked her to the door.

“Look, I know Richard’s away so if you need me for anything, anything at all, you ring me okay?”

“Of course I will, but don’t worry about me I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, and thanks, you’re a real friend.”

It only took ten minutes to walk to the hotel. Kate felt apprehensive, she didn’t take to the man during their brief meeting in the bar, but knew that her views and opinions were of no consequence. The talk amongst the girls had made her ponder the man’s needs and what he would require of her. As she entered the building she knew it wouldn’t take long to find out.

The hotel interior held no surprises for Kate, she’d been there recently. Knowing the layout she quickly made her way to room 6 and knocked on the door. The hope that there would be no answer, that he’d changed his mind, soon proved false: the door opened.

“At last, come in.” he said, turning away and walking ahead of her, leaving her to close the door. What did he mean ‘at last’ she thought, she’s wasn’t late. He had a drink poured for himself but made no offer to Kate. “Take the dress off.” The abrupt order came across as rude, but she complied, pleased to have chosen stockings and no bra.

Standing in the strange room, dressed only in stockings and heels, she felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach and the excitement built. He rose from his chair and slowly walked around her, his eyes roamed over her naked flesh, pausing on her breasts, then moved down, studying her smooth pubic area. The situation was commonplace; she’d been ogled in that way on numerous occasions, so she couldn’t understand why he make her feel so cheap.

“I love having women like you; it’s such a turn on. Respectable women I mean, well off, professional. But we both know you’re just a slut, don’t we?” Kate remained silent. “Don’t we?” he repeated, more forcefully.

“Yes Sir, we do.” He’s a real charmer Kate thought.

“And married too, all the better. You just need to be used don’t you, no feelings involved, no longer the loving wife, just a slut who wants to be forced and filled with a strangers sperm.”

“Yes Sir, that’s right,” she said considering it best to go along with whatever he wanted to hear.

“That’s what we’d better do for you then, get on all fours.” Once in position she heard him undressing behind her. A draw opened then closed before she heard the pop of a cap opening. His foot kicked at the inside of her thighs telling her to open them further. Cold fluid made her jump as it dripped onto her buttocks, then his hand spread it into both openings. She trembled, suddenly aware of her fate. He laughed.

“Oh yes, that’s what’s coming, and the lubricant is for my comfort, not your protection. He moved to the front, spreading the cool liquid along his erection as he knelt in front of her.

“Open your mouth.” Brutally pushing himself forward he made her gag–despite her training. He continued with no concern for her discomfort, aiming for the back of her throat. The bitter lubricant left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. The resulting tears were partly due to the gagging and partly due to the shame. Her distress turned him on even more, fuelling his arousal and she felt the increased swelling.

Abruptly withdrawing from her mouth he moved behind her. With no preliminaries he forced himself into the narrow opening. Telling herself to relax and push down made no difference; he had no concern for her lack of readiness. She cried out from the sudden and acute pain. Her suffering had no effect on his brutal assault and he continued thrusting into her, aiming for the depths of her body. She was being raped, she was defenceless and in pain: it felt so satisfying, so submissive. The selfish, uncaring lout was unknowingly giving her just what she craved. The pain and humiliation were necessary by-products she would just have to tolerate, something she had to endure.

He didn’t take long to reach his climax, remaining inside as he did so, filling her with his sperm.

“Get dressed and go,” he said, walking into the bathroom. Kate smiled at his back. Despite her treatment, her tear stained cheeks and the burning in her anus, she smiled at his gloating from having belittled her, raped her and humiliated her, and unknown to him, satisfied her.

As she walked home she considered all that had happened to her during the evening. She could have stayed at the bar and enjoyed the company of her friends, but she was glad she hadn’t. However bad the treatment she endured; the more marked her body afterwards and the longer she took to recover, the greater the fulfilment and satisfaction.

She quickened her pace, eager to get home, where she would feed Oscar, take a long, hot bath and leave a video message for Richard, telling him of her rewarding evening.

“Do you know this person?” Richard asked.

“Haven’t got a clue, no. The email was sent to you, who was the sender?”

“It was just a Hotmail account,” he said, “anonymous, and you’d better hurry or we’ll be late. It’ll be at least half an hour’s drive.”

The final brushing of her shiny blond hair completed her preparations. Rising from the dressing table stool she slipped off the robe, her naked, pale flesh contrasted with the heavy, flawless make-up.

“Here you are then, all you’re allowed to wear they said.”

“Only cuffs, no clothing at all?”

“That’s right; put your foot on the stool. They paid the money, so they get to give the orders. Other foot.”

After securing the buckle on the second ankle cuff, he ran his hand up her leg, stroking her smooth sex, probing the moist opening. “If I’d known you’d look this good I’d have bid a bit higher myself.”

“What, more than £7.50? I’m flattered.”

“Well, I know how to pull a woman, and in this case it would be money well spent. Come here, you need the collar on.”

“Aw, you know I don’t like the collar, it’s demeaning.”

“Stop winging, that’s the whole point.”

Clipping the leash to the collar’s front ring, he gave a tug, obliging her to follow. “It’s not that warm out so put your coat round you ’till we get there.”

“You’re all heart.”

Leaving the house in her naked state gave Kate the usual thrill, and even though the coat covered her, it wasn’t fastened. Having her wrists held behind her back left no opportunity to stop the cool air creeping in, or any neighbours from witnessing her departure.

The journey seemed to take no time at all. Despite Richard’s reassurance she remained apprehensive, her mind ran through endless possibilities of what the night may hold. Turning up naked to the house of a stranger was a trial in its own right, knowing they then had free use of her body only increased the trepidation. How many of them would there be? What would they do to her? With her? She expected it to be tough–people had paid a lot of money and would want good value. The thought alone was good reason for the jitters in her stomach, and moisture between her legs. She couldn’t deny that she was nervous, scared even, but excited at having to face the unknown.

The red brick facade of the large Victorian house wasn’t visible from the road. The curve of the driveway and the tall, dense hedges gave a degree of privacy unavailable to many in the area. Reconnecting the cuffs behind her back helped to reduce the shaking in her hands as the left the car.

“Make sure you do exactly as you’re told, and straight away,” Richard warned her.

“I’ll try.”

“Stand straight and proud, you look beautiful.” The click of the leash onto her collar comforted her in a small way: being led to her fate seemed easier than walking there by choice. Once the coat had been removed the chilled air made her body a mass of goose bumps, and her nipples harden. Walking barefoot on the gravel proved to be less uncomfortable than she expected, leaving her mind free to consider the prospect of being observed by any close neighbours.

A single ring of the bell announced their arrival. The heavy footsteps heard inside belonged to a middle aged man; a sophisticated looking gentleman wearing a dark suit and striped tie. Stepping to one side he invited them into the large entrance hall. The inside of the property matched the high expectations presupposed from the view of the exterior. The opulent furnishings and heavy chandelier complimented the original, patterned floor tiles and ornate mahogany staircase.

“Mr. Adams, how nice to meet you, and the delightful Mrs. Adams, how nice to see you again.”

At least I’m not being ignored again Kate thought as he walked around her, admiring her naked body. Addressing Richard, he continued, “I bought her for my wife’s birthday, so you can expect her to be used hard, you know what these women are like.”

“She’ll be happy to be used hard, after all that’s what she’s here for.”

“Splendid,” the gentleman said, accepting the lead Richard handed to him.

Richard placed her coat on the hall table and left. Kate’s heart thumped in her chest as she watched him leave, without turning back. She knew how excited he would be leaving her in the hands of strangers, knowing she’d be mistreated. He would go home and wait, imagining her facing her ordeal, wondering what she was going through and eagerly awaiting her return. Then his ritual of inspecting her, making her humiliate herself further by reliving her torment before finally displaying the evidence of her depravation.

Still facing the front door, Kate assumed the clacking of heels on the ceramic tiles to be the arrival of the gentleman’s wife. Kate slowly turned, to face a tall, dark haired woman. Her blouse, stockings, heels and short skirt were all in black providing a sharp contrast to her pale skin and bright red lipstick.

“Your present has arrived my dear, I hope you enjoy it.”

“Oh I intend to,” she drawled “and after I’ve finished I’ll share her with the rest of you.” The word ‘others’ brought fresh alarm to Kate. Who were they? How many? Men or women? The woman continued to circle her prey, needlessly checking the effectiveness of her cuffed wrists, probing, pinching and stroking her body. The intimidation reached a peak as she lifted Kate’s chin, looked into her eyes and told her she would be more than happy to make use of her present.

“Thank you darling, I’ll bring her to you when I’m done.” The pulling on the leash drew Kate down the long hallway and into a large dining room. The surroundings once again displayed good taste as well as the availability of money. The wood panelled wall on the far side of the room had high fixing rings which soon held Kate’s arms spread out and high above her head. Once the ankle straps were secured to rings on either side of her the strain on her arms became hard to bear. As her breasts and face were pushed hard against the smooth surface, the smell of beeswax brought back childhood memories of helping her mother with polishing the furniture.

“I do so love to whip a woman,” she said as she appeared at Kate’s side bending a riding crop, “especially when they’re as scared as you look right now.”

As she moved out of sight, Kate waited for the inevitable pain. It wasn’t a long wait. Each stroke from the crop fell in quick succession covering her back and buttocks with painful stripes. The hardest strokes cut into the soft area under her buttocks making her cry out, the fiery pain arriving slightly after the whistle in the air.

Much sooner than anticipated the beating stopped. Was she taking a break, changing the implement or had she finished? The release of the straps from the rings answered her questions. While the beating had been more than enough to make her cry out it was not nearly as much as she’d expected or had received at the hand of Colonel Mason or Janet, whom she inwardly thanked for their effective training.

Satisfied with her efforts, the woman crossed the room to sit in one of the low leather chairs.

“Down on all fours and crawl to me,” the lady said. She had no idea why, but Kate had an intense dislike of having to crawl. After all the disgusting things she’d been made to do she could not decide why crawling would be near the top of her ‘hate to do’ list. It was strange how her mind operated. Once in position at the woman’s feet, she waited for the next command. She crossed her legs and dangled a foot in front of Kate before giving her next order.

“Take it off and lick my foot.” The silky fabric felt pleasant to Kate’s tongue; she warmed to her task, working around each toe as far as the fabric would allow.

“Work your way up my leg…slowly.” As she reached the lace band at the top of the stocking, the woman pushed her away. “Now the other one.”

Being on her knees, licking the feet and legs of a stranger didn’t strike Kate as an unusual thing to do, she felt comfortable, at ease and happy to be in the position. As she reached the top of the second leg, her assumptions were confirmed, the legs parted revealing the shaved, open sex glistening with moisture. Kate’s eyes examined the woman’s private area, the small neat, lips differing greatly from hers. Which would men prefer, she wondered? Brought out of her musings by the sharp pain in her scalp, Kate couldn’t stifle a cry as the woman’s hand grasped her hair, pulling her face to its target.

“If I’m not satisfied, I’ll whip you again.” She threw her head back and waited. Slowly moving forward Kate began. She was determined to do well, not from the fear of a whipping but from pride. She wanted to please. The gentle lapping of her tongue achieved the reaction she hoped for. Increasing the teasing of the woman’s clit brought fresh reactions and increased arousal, encouraging Kate to go harder, making the juices flow. Her climax came suddenly, and forcefully. After being pulled away by her hair she dropped to the floor where she lay still, proud to have caused such an effect on the woman.

Following a brief period of recovery the woman stood, straightened her skirt, pulled up her stockings and grasped the leash. Despite a lack of verbal instruction, Kate took the pulling as her cue to follow as the woman made her way from the dining room. Crawling along the hallway carpet reminded her of being at Colonel Mason’s and Janet taking her to face the next challenge.

As she crawled, her breasts swung beneath her chest and she felt her lips sliding against each other, pleased that the woman was in front of her, unable to see the effects of her arousal. As they neared the end of the passage, deep voices came to Kate’s ears. The speech suddenly became clear as a door was opened, revealing the source. The three men in the room stopped talking to watch her enter.

“Here you are gentlemen, as promised.”

“Nicely marked too,” observed the husband. “Was she worth the money?”

“Certainly was, she’s very good with her mouth, just as I expected.” The woman sat in a chair to observe the proceedings.

“Excellent, let’s see what else she’s good at, shall we.”

From behind her a hand stroked her buttocks, tracing the line of the welts before suddenly moving between her legs. Fingers pushed into her, opening both passages.

“She’s very wet,” a voice stated, “she must like being treated badly.”

“She seems to be very cooperative. The beating was just for fun, but I can always step it up if she shows any lack of enthusiasm,” the woman assured him.

“According to the auction details, all three holes are available and there are no limits, so let’s see for ourselves, see how she likes them all filled at once,” said the husband, taking off his jacket. The words both excited and worried Kate, while she was keen to carry out her duties she had so far only been used by one person at a time, any more would be a new experience for her.

The first forced his way into her mouth, not wanting to test her oral skills but to use the hole as a means to an end. The rough face fucking forced her to gag and brought tears to her eyes as saliva dripped down her chin and onto her breasts–not an elegant look, she thought. Not lasting long, he filled her mouth with sperm, reminding her of being used so recently by the man at the hotel.

With barely a pause his replacement took over. Pleased to realise the new occupant was gentler, Kate used her tongue to increase his pleasure, giving her sore lips a rest from the previous rubbing. Feeling a warm blunt head nudging at her holes she opened her legs further, easing entry for her second user. The two intruders worked together, soon forming a rhythm, filling her and then withdrawing.

Pulled into whatever position they required, her body continued to be used for their pleasure. On all fours, on her back or kneeling she accommodated them as they used all of the openings on offer. Far from appearing uncooperative she used her initiative, seeing a man lie on his back she took it as a cue to sit astride him and impale herself, before gently working her body back and forth.

Eased forward, hands parted her cheeks, a second head pushing at her rear opening before thrusting forward, filling her. She’d read about it–double penetration–but the descriptions couldn’t do justice to the reality. The feeling of distension, stretching and swelling had to be experienced, not read about. As one withdrew his replacement took over, continuing the onslaught until she could resist no longer, her climax left her drained, spent and satisfied.

A quiet calm filled the room as the men gathered their clothing before Kate heard the door close. Left alone and lying in a heap on the floor she was cold, sore and wet. She felt the sperm mixed with her own juices leak from her holes. As her arousal declined and she came down from her high the lust drained from her and her rational, sensible side returned.

The post euphoric lull left her wondering why she let herself be used in that way. The physical and mental pain left her despondent, her treatment was disgusting and she was a disgrace for accepting it, for taking it, and wanting it. Some twisted trait in her personality made her volunteer for it so she deserved the feelings of self-loathing and disgust, they were the price she had to pay.

The woman returned to ask if she’d like to clean up, redo her make-up and brush her hair. As usual she declined, knowing that Richard wanted her to return as she was, covered with the evidence of her disgrace. The woman nodded–she understood.

“Your taxi’s here,” the husband announced as he came back into the room.

“You’re a credit to the group,” the woman told her, “so willing and open minded, you should be proud.”

“Thank you.”

“And thank you for my present.” She kissed Kate gently on her cheek before seeing her into the waiting taxi.

Hearing the car pull up Richard knew the agonising wait had come to an end. He heard the clunk of the door, then receding sound of the engine. He heard the front door open and footsteps in the hallway. Reclining in one of the armchairs he waited until she was standing before him. She knew he would take his time, drag it out. It was a partnership; she’d had her pleasure, now it was his turn.

“Was that another of your fantasies turned into reality?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Something you’ve dreamed about for a long time?”

“Yes Sir.” She waited patiently during the long pauses.

“How many used you?” His voice was barely audible, not wanting to give away the level of his excitement.

“Four, three men and a woman.”

“Did you cum?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Even when being raped–such a slut. Were you whipped?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Let me see.” She dropped the coat from her shoulders and turned away from him. She heard him shift in the chair when he saw the welts crossing her back and buttocks. “Does it hurt?”

“Not so much now, it’s fine.”

“Where were you used?”

“Everywhere, and together.” She heard him sit up in the chair, moving closer.

“Let me see.” Opening her legs a little and bending forward the two openings presented themselves to him.

“They look red raw, are you sore?”

“Yes Sir.” The lips and tops of her thighs still showed the remains of the fluids leaking from her. He reached out and gently stroked the puffy, swollen lips.

“Why do you let people do these things to you?”

“Because I’m disgusting sir, a filthy whore.”

“I believe you are. Are you proud of yourself, pleased with your treatment?”

“I’m proud to have suffered and obeyed, yes.”

“Tell me what happened to you, all the details.”

She relayed the events of the whole evening, watching for his reactions, judging his favourite parts. Finishing her story with what seemed to turn him on the most.

“…then, as the husband took his wife from behind he made me hold him and guide him into her. I had to lie underneath as he slid in and out, using my tongue on her to increase her pleasure. After he came and pulled out she lay still, ordering me to clean them both. It was hard to bring myself to do it, looking at the sticky mess left from their lovemaking, but it was actually quite pleasant once I’d started. I felt dirty but pleased to be forced to do it. Then the woman responded and came again as I cleaned her. Her pleasure far out-weighed my disgust.”

“I’d like to have been there to see that. And you being filled and stretched by two men at once, perhaps we’ll make that happen again soon. Come on let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll run your bath.”

The final part of the ritual she knew, was her cleansing. He gently soaped her, cleaning away all traces of her users, returning her to Kate the wife, the friendly neighbour, the business woman–his. Until the next time.

After securing her ankles Richard spent a few minutes walking around and admiring her, before caressing and stroking her naked flesh. Used to being secured over the bar she gave no hint of protest–accepting her fate.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this trip you know, I’d like to have stayed and watched you suffer,” he told her. She made no response, knowing it was only his way of building the tension and worrying her. Hearing the sound of the doorbell from above, Richard climbed the stairs to the entrance porch. As they descended, Kate observed the newcomer. Geeky looking, she thought, wiry body, glasses, and his lanky hair beginning to thin at the front. In his late thirties she guessed.

“This is Marshal Ralston, darling. Marshal, this is Catherine, my wife.”

“Your wife,” the surprise showed on his face as well as in his voice, “but Weston said…a woman…who’d be available for…whatever.”

“Oh, I see, you were expecting a call girl, well you won’t be disappointed, she’s much better, and free. She’s a beautiful woman, don’t you think?”

“Well…of course…yes, that’s obvious, but I mean–she’s your wife.”

“She is indeed and I’m so proud of the fact. Don’t you worry, she’s willing to provide whatever you may require of her, aren’t you Kate.”

“Yes Sir, of course.”

“There you are Marshall, she’s used to being beaten and abused, and of course is available for sex in any form you like.”

He couldn’t hide his lingering suspicions. “You mean I can do anything with her and you’re okay with that?” His excitement started to show.

“Nothing that will leave permanent marks of course. That’s not acceptable.” Richard then spoke to her directly.” Kate, Marshall seems to be a little hesitant, why don’t you put his mind at rest?”

“You can use my body however you want to, I’m happy to be used.” Her voice came over low and barely audible, from the excitement, fear or shame?

“How can you make her do this?”

“Oh no you have it all wrong, she makes herself do it, we just organise it for her. Isn’t that right Kate?” She didn’t answer, instead she just lowered her head, she knew he was trying to increase her humiliation. The sound of the doorbell once more made her look to the top of the stairs, then back to Richard, wide eyes showing her confusion.

“I’ll get that,” Richard said, as he took the stairs to the kitchen.”

Being left alone with the man felt awkward, his eyes scanned her body which made her feel uncomfortable. She could almost see his mind working, deciding what he would do with her, how he would use her–and she shivered. Straining her ears proved insufficient to hear voices or any other clue to find out the identity of the unexpected visitor. Returning to the gym alone Richard seemed to be hurrying, as though the time for his departure had arrived.

“I must be off now Marshall, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Kate watched him leave, unsure of how she felt. At the top of the stairs he turned and smiled before closing the door behind him. In the restaurant she told him what she wanted, to be controlled, with no limits–her boundaries stretched. She remembered how unsure he seemed, how apprehensive he was at the start of it all. Now look at how he’d developed, matured into his role and gained in confidence.

Yet again he’d moved up a gear. She never expected it. She felt scared and uneasy as well as excited. She wanted it, almost begged for it, but now it was real it frightened her. Richard was in control, he’d taken over and she no longer had to to coax him into those situations. With the backing of Oakham he’d taken the initiative and was directing her. The thought thrilled her more than she ever thought it would.

They were giving her away, prostituting her, and the thought of it delighted her. She was open to more, to have her limits pushed, but how far would they take her? Perhaps it would be too much for her–perhaps she would be disappointed if it wasn’t. Whatever the answer, it was too late to change her immediate future.

The sound of the front door closing brought her out of her thoughts, back to the reality of the man there, waiting to use her.

He slowly walked around her, taking in her beauty, still not believing the situation he found himself in. He stroked her body then moved behind her and reached down to cup her breasts before pinching the nipples between forefingers and thumbs.

Releasing her he returned to the front and crouched down. He looked into her eyes as he gripped each nipple once more before twisting cruelly, making her wince from the pain. He moved again and, kneeling behind her she suffered the indignity of him pulling open her cheeks to inspect and probe her openings. He seemed like a schoolboy with a new toy: as though he’d never had the opportunity to be so close or so intimate with a woman before. Kate found the experience belittling and insulting, blaming Oakham for arranging it and Richard for allowing it.

He smacked her backside but got no reaction. He tried again, getting harder and harder until she reacted. He soon got a kick from his power over her and her acceptance of the treatment. The slaps moved to her breasts, making them swing back and forth as they hung down on either side of the red leather. The slaps grew in strength until she had to cry out.

He stopped, only to resume the nipple twisting until that too brought a scream.