Zippers

PART 19

 

A wave of heat hit me as I stepped into the bar. In my head, my teeth were grinding together; in reality I smiled as sweetly and prettily as Vivienne had taught me to. Feeling Cara behind me, I stood tall and held my head high. I faced forward and, on my impossible heels, stepped into the bar.

It was packed to standing room, almost exclusively with men.

My God, they were all turning to check me out!

I could feel my cheeks burning with shame. I was actually glad of the thick foundation on my face; perhaps it would help to hide my obvious degradation as my deep blush radiated my humiliation to the whole room.

I could feel the latex, tightly snagging around the tops of my legs; cold and chilled from our brief walk in the frozen street. Trying to pretend that I was somewhere else, I strutted towards the bar.

The music was loud but I could make out mumblings, directed towards us. Then there was an explicit, incredulous;

‘Fuck me, look at her!!’

The only way I could stop myself from screaming was to concentrate on something simple. I was intent on just one thing, getting to the bar. Cara was with me, I thanked God as I reached backwards and I felt her take my hand. I stood at the bar, facing it and leaning on it. I ignored the guy on the stool next to me. His eyes had almost popped out of his head as he looked down at my legs and boots. Cara leant over the bar next to me.

‘Good choice Anita, show them that ass, those legs and that naughty skirt’

I spun my head in anger at her.

‘I’m not fucking with you, honest. Keep calm…….okay, calm……good. Lust is power ok, the more a guy wants you, the more control you have; plain and simple. Now you just keep smiling Anita, you’re doing so well, so well honey, I’m so proud of you’

She looked so sincere. I could see that she understood exactly what I was going through. I forgave her and struggled to get the smile back onto my face. This was just awful.

‘Now if you want to take control here, you need to check out the room, and quickly, otherwise someone will hit on you…………and we’re not allowed to turn a guy down, Anita’

Oh my God! NOW she had decided to tell me that rule! I was now even less in control than I had thought I was. Could it get any worse?

I turned a little and started to try and catch the room. There must have been twenty pairs of eyes on my ass alone. I wanted to curl up and die.

I had never been the focus of so much male attention before. To find myself that way, dressed the way I was, was just unreal. I remembered my hair and make-up. I remembered what I was wearing, the top, the skirt, the boots and the earrings, even the little name-necklace and my nails. I closed my eyes in the most abject and complete humiliation; this is how the spotlight had caught me. I had to hand it to Vivienne; she had done me over so perfectly.

I kept the pretty, confident smile on my face as I composed myself and quickly scanned my way around the room. I couldn’t believe I was seriously considering who I would try and fuck.

‘Pretend you’re Julia Roberts’ I told myself ‘pretend you’re her and you’ve got all that confidence; so that you can deal with all of this. Pretend you’re a Pro, pretend you’re her in ‘Pretty Woman’, and pretend you’re experienced, savvy and can handle men’

It was like a mantra. I repeated it to myself and as my gaze swept round, my eye lingered for a split second. I couldn’t believe it, it was the guy from the road-works outside my flat. He caught me and I saw him nodding slowly, appreciatively at me. I looked away in shame but then to my astonishment, I looked back at him and smiled.

Had there been a command from Vivienne or Cara, or had I done that myself? I had no idea but I quickly turned back to the bar and tapped Cara. I told her that I’d seen this guy and that he’d whistled at me earlier. She cut straight to it and asked me if I though he was ‘hot’. I looked away in frustration. I felt the hearts rocking in my ears, my breasts pushing up through the huge oval defect in my top and my crushed, bent toes from my high-heels as I confessed to her that, yes, God damn it! I was attracted to him and in the worst possible way.

‘Well that’s perfect for you Anita’ she had said enthusiastically. She grinned, and for the first time, she looked like the teenager she really was. She composed herself again and then whispered,

‘Now, really sexy banter okay? Tell him you’ve got no panties on; how hot you are; how sexy he is and how much you need him. Ask him if he wants to try your zipper or tell him that you want to drink him dry. Say something blunt and direct like that, nothing complex, keep it simple’

She handed me another drink. I don’t know what it was. I took a suck up the straw. Whatever it was, it was strong. I took another deep slurp.

‘Put this in your bag, it’s on’

She opened my bag and put in a mobile phone; then she shut it inside the bag.

‘Your Mistress likes to hear her girls sometimes, to make sure they are behaving properly. Make sure you make plenty of noise and make sure that he does too, otherwise she will teach you to do it properly and you will suffer.

Believe me Anita, its best this way; there really is only one way here. Now, think sexy thoughts and remember that you can have any man in here; you just have to be ballsy. You look gorgeous. Smile. Now!’

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and looked up and……..there he was.

My heart was pounding. It was a miracle but I managed to get back to my smile.

‘Can….I buy you a drink?’ he stuttered.

It hadn’t crossed my mind that he might actually be nervous approaching me. It calmed me down a little. I saw his eyes steal a glance down at my chest and then back at my face, I could see how affected he was by me; that I had made him feel his powerful, basal urges. He had obviously bought into my slut gimmick; fully. Such a cheap trick had made me almost powerful; I was turning him on and almost had him under a spell. As I remembered the humiliating details of my appearance, I was amazed that he wasn’t ridiculing me. It was inconceivable that he was actually enraptured by me. His attention was different to the type that I had received on the night out on the yacht; this was raw, unsophisticated lust and it was intoxicatingly potent.

I couldn’t believe anyone could actually like the way that I looked but this man was clearly dumbstruck; head over heels. I felt Cara nudging me in the ribs.

He was good looking; blonde, stocky and muscular with an angular, unshaven, darkly stubbled jaw, blue eyes and beautiful long eyelashes. He was the kind of rough looking man that I had never dared fantasise about, he was too dirty for a nice girl to be able to want. To look at him, the way I was doing, made me feel disturbingly uneasy.

He was waiting for his answer. And so, in my bag, was Vivienne. I was trapped and the moment of truth was upon me. All my natural impulses were telling me to run away. The Anita that I had always been wanted to blush and shrink away; ideally, to disappear completely.

I remembered the look on Lisa’s face that afternoon. I remembered Cara and her talk of Vivienne’s coffin. I would have to be brave, heroically brave. I took a little step forward to his ear, balancing on my high shoes. I brushed, so lightly, against his face with my nose before I whispered

‘They don’t sell what I want to drink from you’

It was like I was detached from the whole scene, watching it. I couldn’t believe that I had even thought of that, let alone had just said it. I stepped back and looked him deeply in the eyes. I picked up my drink and slowly, seductively, closed my glossy lips about the straw. I could do this. I could nail this.

I decided, there and then, that there was no merit in trying to finesse the situation. Cara knew what she was talking about and had said to keep it simple. I slowly licked at my straw like I had seen a girl in a film do; I pretended that it was his cock. Burying my shame, I leant forward and confessed that I was not only totally naked under my skirt but that I was all hot and bothered. I looked at him, bashfully, like a naughty schoolgirl and admitted that I thought my zip might be stuck. I asked him, sheepishly and brazenly at the same time, if he could maybe have a look at it for me, perhaps outside at the back of the pub.

He was gob-smacked. He stared at me for a moment in complete denial; he only needed to do a cartoon double-take to complete the cliché on his face. Then, what I had said registered fully, and he started to breathe deeply. He licked his lips and smiled. His face lit up as his lips drew back into a cheeky, devilish grin; I could see the idea taking hold.

‘Come with me little lady, lets see if we can’t fix that problem of yours’

He took my hand and I walked after him, struggling to step fast enough to match his speed. I heard some jeering, probably from his mates; and a wolf whistle; but we were soon out of the bar and into the back yard, in the cold night air.

I looked into his eyes. Here I was; a slut, his slut, to do with as he pleased. I was giving myself to him; I was doing my Mistress’s bidding. Not wasting a second and thankfully taking the lead from me, he backed me against the red brick wall and gripped my ass with both hands. I shuddered, my cheeks held firmly as he pulled me in, towards him. I had very little balance on my boots and I was forced to push my breasts up, into him. His hand was soon up, groping at me. I felt so dirty. I tried to keep on smiling while, in reality, I was petrified.

With a little flick behind me, I felt the tension vanish from my bra. His hands reached under my top and I could soon feel his coarse palms working up my belly until they cupped me, pushing my bra upwards and aside. He pulled my top up to my neck, displaying my taut, buoyant breasts so that he could see my thick nipples standing proudly to attention for him. As he gently pinched them and started to feel my aching, implant ridden glands, I panted with pain as it smarted. He obviously took this as confirmation of my arousal as he pulled me over to one side. He moved me up against a bin.

‘Well, let’s have a look at that naughty little zip then’

I teetered as he spun me round and then pushed my shoulders forward so that he bent me over the bin, facing away from him. The gold chain of my handbag trailed down the side of the corrugated metal and, as I saw the white leather of my bag swinging, bouncing against it. I remembered the phone and that this would all be in vain if I didn’t please Vivienne.

‘Oh, yes’ I moaned. I started to get wet in the eyes; this just couldn’t be happening. I felt a pulling at my skirt and then, unceremoniously, the zip was wide open and it was loose; hanging down from my waist. I sobbed quietly to myself as I felt a hand sliding its way down my inner ass cheeks, until it nestled near the bottom. I could feel him reaching further and then I felt his fingertip at my folds.

‘You horny bitch, you’re sopping wet down here!’

I drew my breath in with surprise as he touched me; my lips were incredibly sensitive. I tried to move away. He had his hand firmly on my ass though, so his fingers stayed exactly where they were. He ventured up higher and I gasped as he found my clitoris and gently pushed into it.

‘Ahhhh!’ I squealed as the sensation hit me.

He wasted no time and started to massage little circles around me with his finger. My God, he had done this before! My breathing became short as I panicked. I hadn’t expected it to feel nice and definitely not this nice. His touch was too good; it was starting to excite me. I felt like I could be driven wild by such a touch and that idea terrified me. No, that couldn’t be! I was not a whore; not a slut in a back alley!

I moaned again for Vivienne, but it was also a relief to let the noise out and not to have to bottle it up.

‘Oh my God’ I moaned as I felt his thumb at my opening, sliding around the entrance to my tunnel, caressing and orbiting the very outside of my hole. I could feel myself gaping, inviting him to enter; I blushed with abject shame.

‘My God! You are so fucking horny’ he breathed.

After another minute, as he continued to stimulate me, I felt his hand leave me. I heard him tearing at himself. I moaned again, this time for Vivienne, and in humiliation. I realised, as he hastily prepared himself; that I was little more than his bitch; I was Vivienne’s bitch waiting to be fucked. I spread my legs and lifted my ass to him in obedience to my Mistress. My surrender to her and my resentment of how she was treating me was now almost complete.

‘Fuck me now’ I pleaded. I told myself I wanted it over with. I was ashamed with myself for having enjoyed his touch. Maybe I really was a common slut after all and that I really did need him to fuck me.

I felt his rock hard prick work its way down my ass crack, lightly dusting and bouncing against my smooth, sensitive inner cheeks and rippling tiny electric surges upwards and through me. My God, I hoped that it was too dark for him to notice the cosmetic tattooing around my hole! I have felt like the vainest slut imaginable for having had such a thing done to me. I felt his head nestle between my lips and I felt my own juices as he slid across me. I whimpered softly, wishing that none of this was happening.

My lips felt puffed and swollen, pulsing with the blood of my arousal. I leant further forward onto my elbows and pushed my pussy upwards; proffering it to him, even if it meant that he may see my designer ass-hole. My stilettos put me just above his cock; at the perfect entry height. In spite of my rampant humiliation, I could feel the heat in my own cunt and I told myself that, therefore, I really must have been a slut.

‘Ahhhhhh’ I gasped, genuinely, as I felt him slide into me. My bottom lip quivered with his intrusion as the reality hit me - I was having sex with a man, like a free-gift whore.

He moved deeply into me, but softly. I was weeping. On top of it all, the pleasure of him filling me was too much; I shouldn’t be able to enjoy this on any level.

This was me, big-titted, conveniently sterilised, in white stilettos, with my ears studded and my face made up like a total slut. My nails spelt out what I was and, as I remembered them, my heart skipped a beat hoping that he had not seen them; although as he pushed into me I was sure that he would be past caring. As I felt him rubbing inside me and exquisitely stretching me, I couldn’t stand the raging, conflicting emotions I was being made to feel; I started to come apart.

‘God you are so. Fucking. Horny!’ he breathed against me.

As he stroked against the front of my tunnel, beautiful waves of warm pleasure radiated up through me. It was unbearable. The tears streamed down my face as he sped up and began thrusting into me, grunting. I started to moan back, into his rhythm.

‘Oh, please, keep doing that to me’ I burst out, trying to keep acting the whore but now drawing upon real emotions to pad out the part. I didn’t know if this was an attempt to convince Vivienne, him, or a moment of true sincerity. Worse than that, I didn’t care.

‘Oh my God’

I felt him stiffen and then slow right down, moaning and gasping as he moved gently but suddenly into me. I actually felt him coming as his cock pulsed and he emptied his load into me. I suddenly felt overcome as I realised that my blind ending vagina was now purely a fuck tunnel; somewhere for a man to spill his seed for pleasure. I pinched myself so that I didn’t burst into tears at that thought. I remembered where I was and what my brief was.

‘Oh Yes, Oh Yes’ I moaned, almost as an afterthought. It had to be good for him. I was so glad that the terrible, reluctant sensations stopped there and I could start to think again; no longer disturbed by such extreme, basal, pleasure.

He pulled out of me and helped me up.

I turned to look at him. He was red faced but looked very pleased. I wiped my eyes and smiled nervously at him, I didn’t want him to see that I had been crying. He didn’t seem to notice or care. As he pulled his cock back and tucked his erection inside his trousers I saw his eyes at my necklace.

He looked into my eyes

‘You’re a pretty incredible fuck, Anita. You’re one hell of a babe, you know that’ he said.

I turned a deep purple and told him that he was pretty fucking incredible himself. As I reached down behind myself and tried to close my skirt, I told him he was the best fuck I’d had all year. I was sure that this would massage his ego and help him to think that I was the fuck of the century, even though I had been far from that. I only hoped Vivienne was listening and that my efforts were being noted. I could feel some of his cum seeping out of me; a globular flow gradually working its way onto the inside of my thigh and starting to run down my leg.

He realised my predicament with the elastic skirt and laughed. He went round behind me and pulled the ends of the hem together so that I could stretch the zip closed through the thick rubber latex. I thanked him for his help and then, remembering Cara, I thanked him, in awe, for his incredible, mind-blowing fuck. His smile widened and he said

‘Any time Anita baby, anytime.’

We made our way back inside.

It was like returning to earth from some strange other-world but the noise, heat and smells of the pub brought me right back down, crash-landing with a bang. An eye of one of the few women in the bar caught me. Her expression was one or absolute derision and total disgust. She shook her head at me in contempt, like I was the lowest piece of dirt on the planet. I broke into hysterics and had to run, immediately, to the toilet, lock myself in the cubicle, close my eyes and start to sob furiously.

In no time, Cara had knocked on the door, made me open it and was cuddling me firmly. I wept uncontrollably, in utter confusion.

She stroked my head and whispered soothing, calming nothings at me. I was so disappointed in myself. I was a slut. I hadn’t resisted at all. She told me it didn’t matter. She kissed me and held me tightly.

She told me that she had seen everything, that I had done fine and that Mistress was pleased with me. I just sobbed into her shoulder but I was relieved that I would not need to be further tormented or punished.

After a few minutes I started to calm down a little. I could feel more of his juice starting to seep its way out and I went to wipe myself. Cara stopped me.

‘Mistress wants that to stay on you tonight’ she said. Her face changed a little and she became my instructress once more.

‘Fix your make-up, then go and give him your number. Write it in lipstick and then tell him to call you so you can get his number. After that you can spend the night with him if you want, or go home’

I looked at her aghast. All I could think about was running back to my room, my bed and screaming for Lisa. How dare she even offer that to me! I was not a slut! I stormed my way to the mirror, wiped my eyes and started to put my make-up back on. I saw her reflection walk up behind me. I ignored her, trying not to start crying again. She reached into my bag and took out the phone. I heard a beep as she ended the call.

I looked up again and into her eyes. I hadn’t meant to be angry at her. She smiled softly, came up behind me and squeezed my shoulder.

She told me not to be hard on myself. She said that my life was going to be hard enough without making a rod for my own back. She said that she would be seeing me again soon and with that, she turned around and left me there; a whore fawning to tidy herself up.