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SLUT-2-FUCK
CHAPTER FIVE: THE CURTAIN RISES
Story so far:
As told in Chapters One through Four (‘Setting the Scene’, ‘Assembling the Cast’, ‘Following the Script’ and ‘Dress Rehearsal’), Sam becomes a personal trainer to a married couple named Laura and Chris.
Her training of them soon evolves from fitness instruction to total control and she moves into their home before taking over their lives, emptying their wallets, keeping Chris in chastity, and pimping Laura. A list of FAQs explains life for them under Sam’s supervision. Eventually, Steve, a school buddy of Chris, joins the action. He becomes Sam’s lover and co-Dom of Laura and Chris. The plot thickens when Sam arranges the divorce of Chris and Laura primarily so she can transfer their remaining financial assets to herself tax-free.
Sam is only 23, 5’6” of trim muscle, with new enhanced boobs, citron-yellow hair and an elfin-face. Laura is a pretty, almost 28 yr old, green eyed brunette with a 34D chest and great legs. Chris is the same age as Laura, with caramel hair, brown eyes, spectacles and he now lives in a steel chastity tube. Steve is 28 yrs old, with brown eyes and handsome, faintly villainous good looks.
Sam’s pre-wedding Hen Night began as a modest affair.
She invited five other bachelorettes who constituted those she thought of as her best friends; they were a couple of other personal trainers, two clubbing friends and one old school mate from where she grew up. She hadn’t seen any of them much in a while and they had a fun evening in a private room, drinking champagne, eating Sushi, and catching up on old times and new gossip.
They were all impressed with Sam’s obvious success; her designer clothes, the Hindmarch handbag, her Cartier watch, diamond necklace and sparkling engagement ring. They particularly admired her new boobs. At 23, she’d evidently scored herself a mysterious husband with a fat wallet. They were even more amazed by the after-dinner entertainment Sam had laid on.
First, a female stripper performed a private hardcore show for them. If they hadn’t drunk so many bottles of Bollinger, the girls might have been more embarrassed. The stripper was pretty - very pretty - and she somehow seemed a bit posh for her line of work. She was brunette, with shoulder length dark hair, high cheekbones, and green eyes visible under the spotlight. She was tall, maybe 5’ 9” or so, with big tits, long model’s legs and a lissom body.
“Phew, Sam, where’d ya find her ?” asked Kelly, an Aussie trainer.
“On the net.” Sam shouted, over the thumping strip music. Kelly was lesbian and she could barely take her eyes off the undressing dancer.
A waiter arrived with another magnum of champagne. He filled glasses generously, ignoring their whistles and lecherous comments.
The stripper performed admirably, like a true artiste. She was obviously a well brought up girl but maybe she’d fallen on difficult times; perhaps she had a problem paying her rent ? Eventually, she was topless, gyrating and wiggling in just a thong, her svelte hips and large boobs rotating like pineapples balanced in teaspoons.
Then the show really kicked off. An oiled black male dancer entered the room and began stripping as well, to the whoops and catcalls of the Hen Party. He was huge; probably 6’ 6” tall with pectorals and abdomen in proportion.
The audience was riveted as the topless stripper got down on her knees and removed the male’s thong, releasing a black truncheon in proportion to the rest of him. She opened her red-lipped mouth and began sucking him.
“Wow ! This is amazing.” Jana yelled into Sam’s ear, emptying her champagne glass. They watched the ebony-ivory blowjob from just a few feet away.
The same handsome waiter returned with his magnum to top up their glasses. He was dressed smartly in a white jacket and dark trousers, and black spectacles that made him look a bit like Clark Kent. His averted his eyes from the obscene cabaret taking place right in front of him.
Sam’s friends were just like most other groups of young single women on a night out with alcohol and music. They began chanting for the man to cum in the woman’s mouth and sure enough he eventually did. His knees buckled slightly and he grinned in an orgasmic rictus, throwing his head upwards.
His first spurt disappeared down the strippers’ throat, then he pulled out and the remaining creamy lava erupted from his black volcano into the spotlight. There was an awed scream from the spectators as he spewed what appeared to be several weeks’ worth of magma all over the pretty white face.
*** *** ***
Q24. Can I book Slut-2-Fuck with my wife / partner ?
A24. Yes. Slut-2-Fuck will fully interact with, or serve, your wife or girlfriend in a threesome, twosome or as solo entertainment. Encourage your lady to explore her bisexual or dominant streak with a compliant female submissive.
*** *** ***
Their wedding began as a sedate registry office affair.
Sam wore white, as every bride should be entitled to do once. She had rented a lovely silk wedding dress with a veil and the trimmings. But underneath she had put on the most sluttish attire imaginable. Gobs of fresh white semen covered her lace knickers and stockings, oozing between her thighs.
Chris and Steve were both wearing identical dark suits. It was hard to tell the groom and best man apart. Which was exactly how Sam planned it !
And, even though it was a cold wintry day, the birthday girl was dressed in a tiny skirt, seamed silk stockings, stiletto heels and a tight blouse that revealed way too much cleavage. Her chilled nipples were stiff and way too visible for wedding attire. Laura was not only celebrating her 28th birthday today. She was Sam’s maid of honour. And she was Chris’s ex-wife.
Kelly, a honey-haired Aussie personal trainer, and Fred, Laura’s most regular and trusted punter, completed the select congregation, along with the registrar.
The legal formalities before the wedding vows included a final financial ‘Clean Break’ order signed by Laura, giving Chris sole ownership of all their joint assets and forfeiting forever any rights she might ever have had as his ex-wife.
Next came a comprehensive Pre-Nup agreement between Chris and Sam. Not only was there an immediate transfer of all his assets from Chris’s name into Sam’s sole ownership, but in the event of their divorce, all parties agreed that she would retain everything, and he would get absolutely nothing.
All the documents were properly signed and witnessed. The whole process took just a few important minutes. The registrar then performed the service and Sam and Chris said their vows, after which they were declared husband and wife.
The six of them, excluding the registrar, then returned to Sam’s house. There was one final chore to make the marriage one hundred per cent legal. It had to be consummated ! Leaving Steve, Laura, Kelly and Fred downstairs, Sam impatiently tugged Chris upstairs by his hand, to cheers from three of the other four.
She lay on the bed in her white wedding dress and giggled.
“I’ve been waiting for this day to come ever since I first met you.”
Chris stood in his suit at the end of the bed, looking at her.
“But ...” he said, obviously shocked. “I don’t believe it. You planned all this ?”
She gave him a crooked smile, patting her dress meaningfully between her legs.
“From Day One. All of it. Especially taking you for every penny you had.”
She watched him kneel dutifully and start raising the hem of her dress. He stared into her eyes. She could see everything she wanted inside them simultaneously; devotion, submission, awe and, yes, fear.
He pushed it, and her dress continued to rise, like a theatre curtain rising slowly to reveal the set of a play.
“And whoring your ex.” She continued. “I planned that too, as soon as I knew what she was like.”
She sat up on her elbows so she could admire the mess too. Ten minutes before the ceremony, the Best Man had fucked her in the registry office toilets. She had chosen an ‘ouvert’ pair of lace knickers, the kind invented by French courtesans so that they could have illicit fucks without removing their dresses or underwear. There was a front slit, similar to the opening in a pair of male briefs.
He blinked. And then shook his head at her in amazement.
She winked back at him. After all, she was just the kind of woman he’d always wanted to marry.
“And above all,” she sighed, “having you pleasure me with your tongue.”
*** *** ***
Chris’s mind flashed back to the first time, that Sunday morning she had first made him do this to her. That time it had been Tim’s, today it was Steve’s, but what was the difference ?
One thing was for sure. It wasn’t his.
He lowered his face obediently to her parted thighs. He was still dressed in his wedding suit and tie, still constrained down below by his tight steel tube. How many husband’s get married wearing a chastity belt ?
He put his mouth to the silky material of her underwear and slipped his tongue through the open slit, then into the drenched folds of her pussy.
“Mmm.” She moaned appreciatively. “Here cums the bride.”
He gasped hot breath into her. Even just a few words from her could thrill him.
“This is it, my darling.” Her voice was throaty, excited, like she had already been building to a climax before he started. “Consummation by tongue. Not that little, locked up thing of yours.”
He grimaced as his expanding flesh met hard steel. His tube was 3 ¼ inches in length and his dick hung about 3 inches when totally soft, so it allowed him to get about 10 per cent of an erection, sufficient to allow just a trickle of his excited blood to start flowing. Enough to taunt him with unfulfilled desire.
“Don’t worry.” She announced, after he’d finished and she’d clutched the sheet in a shrieking climax. “You can cum when we get back from our honeymoon.”
*** *** ***
Q25. Can I book Slut-2-Fuck’s husband to join me / us ?
A25. It depends. Slut-2-Fuck’s husband (S2FH) is not usually in attendance. He is busy working in an office throughout the week. However, for those men who enjoy the idea of fucking a wife while her husband watches, special arrangements can be made to book time with Slut-2-Fuck and S2FH together. S2FH can be restrained in bondage, made to stand in the corner or outside the room, or he can lick one of his wife’s holes while you fuck the other one. He can be naked, or dressed in a butler’s uniform, or a pink ballet tutu or other costumes. Email his Mistress with your requests and to agree dates and rates.
*** *** ***
Laura spent her next three weeks in full time service to Fred.
He was a wealthy widower of 60 who lived alone in a large house with just his two cats. A weekly cleaner, the internet and escort girls were normally his only company. He had discovered Slut-2-Fuck because of his penchant for Bdsm.
Despite Fred’s love of corporal punishment, he was considered trustworthy and safe. Laura, and more importantly Sam, had trusted him to take sole charge of the slut during Sam’s glorious, long honeymoon.
Anyway, the daily fee Fred was shelling out for Slut-2-Fuck’s domestic services over the 21 days was incentive enough ! It more than covered the price of the beachfront suite in the luxurious Caribbean hotel Sam was staying in with Steve.
Fred had given his normal weekly cleaner a holiday, in order that he and Laura would be uninterrupted for days on end. So Laura was made to work incredibly hard to earn the cost of the honeymooners’ luxury; Sam’s spa treatments and champagne, Chris’s windsurfing and tennis lessons, their lobsters and sunset cruises were all paid for with long days of domestic and sexual service.
Fred was a man with an almost insatiable appetite for blowjobs, although his age meant that he could only manage to cum two or three times a day nowadays. So Laura spent many hours on her knees, or lying alongside him on his bed, sucking and kissing and handling his sixty year old equipment. He smoked cigars and drank black coffee and, as a result, his watery semen was pungent and bitter.
“On your tongue, my dear.” He would command. “Hold it there.”
She knelt, looking up at him as he slouched in his armchair. He was more than twice her age (he had calculated that he was already 32 and had been married 7 years with a daughter when Laura was born). He was dressed in just a velvet gown and slippers, smoking a Havana.
“Now, slowly, trill it round your tongue. Gargle it nicely.”
He wasn’t that ugly. Not for a man of sixty. His face was red and round and jovial. But from the angle Laura was looking at, she always felt slightly nauseous. He was bald on top with a close-cut ring of grey hair above his ears. He wore half glasses for reading and they bounced unused on his chest from a cord round his neck. He had a jowly double chin and a shrub of hairs in his nostrils. His skin was pale and saggy. His belly was stout and spotted with grey and white hairs. His balls hung down like old walnuts.
Nevertheless, Laura tilted her neck and warbled his sharp, salty liquid round her mouth, up into her palate, tasting the harsh sourness. She kept her gaze humbly on him while she did it. He enjoyed seeing her distaste and shame as her eyes watered.
“Okay.” He chuckled, after waiting a full minute. “You can swallow it now.”
His second favourite activity was for her to rim his bottom, usually in the mornings, at the end of his breakfast. He drank black coffees and ate Danish pastries that he stored in bulk in the freezer, to be defrosted overnight. Laura heated a couple up for him each morning. He sat in his velvet gown and read the Daily Telegraph at the wooden breakfast table.
Under the table, Laura knelt and kissed him good morning; starting at his feet, then his shins, knees, inner thighs, eventually his sweaty scrotum. He slid back into the chair, so his buttocks were perched over the edge, giving her mouth access to his hairy bottom. Above her, she could hear the rustle of him turning the pages, the occasionally slurp of coffee. Then the flatulence would begin.
He’d wait until her tongue was deep inside his anus, ‘burrowing for truffles’ as he called it, and then without any warning or apology, he would carelessly let rip a blast of warm, stinking air into her face. Laura’s duty was to keep tonguing his passage as if nothing had happened, breathing in deeply like it was the most normal thing in the world.
She’d hear another rustle as he simply turned a page, and another belch as he drained his coffee. After the first fart, there was always the dread of more. She licked and kissed his damp bottom and waited, knowing it was only a question of when, not if.
He occasionally reminded her of the purpose of this.
“Show a little more humility, please young lady. It’s only air.”
After all, he would remind her, it wasn’t for his pleasure. It was merely to train her. To teach her where she now ranked in the social order.
It amazed her how long and loud some of them could be. The inner cheeks of his bottom rippled and slapped against each other, in turn smacking her own cheeks, with the force of the gust. But she continued to ‘burrow’ regardless, her face and tongue in his anus, taking shallow breaths into her squashed nostrils.
And for the millionth time she asked herself why ?
Only a few months ago, she’d been a ‘normal’ woman, living a ‘normal’ life. To be reduced in such a short time to this ? Not just a teensy bit of sexual kink and submission like plenty of people with a certain type of beta personality.
No, reduced to this. About a thousand rungs lower than ‘normal’ subs. She despised herself for having allowed it to happen. And ironically that’s why she deserved everything that had happened.
It was like a masochistic vicious circle. The more guilt and shame she felt about it, the more she knew she deserved it. So here she was, on her knees, while some old man farted in her face. She hated and craved the humiliation at the same time. It wasn’t Fred who was revolting here. No, she disgusted herself.
Laura. Slut-2-Fuck. She was the disgusting one.
Her only relief was that his wind didn’t always smell too strongly. He even commented jokingly that ‘his bark was worse than his bite’. But at other times, when his bowel was full and he’d eaten a rich dinner the night before, the stench could be incredible, like sulphurous chemicals.
Yet his expectations never wavered. She was to remain licking and breathing as if nothing had happened.
Sometimes, he’d push aside his newspaper and peer down at her, as a cloud of particularly foul scented air circled them.
“Look at me.”
She’d blink up at him and try to control her revulsion, with his hairy balls tickling her eyes. His own expression was enquiring, amused but stern.
“Humility, please, young lady.” He’d remind her. “Show proper humility.”
Of course, there was plenty of time each day when he was busy doing other things and he would ignore her. Like when he was investing his stock portfolio, or speaking to his broker or financial adviser, or having long Skype calls with his daughter and grandchildren in Hong Kong. Mostly at those times, Laura worked as a skivvy round the house, dusting, polishing, cleaning, scrubbing and many jobs that a normal cleaner wouldn’t do.
Occasionally, he would summon her over while he was on Skype. He ordered her to suck his cock, out of view of the screen. He chatted happily with his daughter who was three years older than Laura like any normal caring father. He would say hello to his 5 and 3 year old grandchildren onscreen while Laura knelt and nuzzled his erection and listened to him coo-cooing the youngsters.
Whenever he was unimpressed by her efforts as a skivvy, he would curl a finger at her and say.
“I think that bottom of yours needs a bit of spanking, doesn’t it ?”
*** *** ***
Q26. Can I have sex with S2FH ?
A26. Sadly, not at present. S2FH is quite handsome, 6’ 1” and heterosexual (see photo in private gallery). He is also a submissive wimp cuckold who lives in strict 24/7 chastity. His primary duty is to act as the household’s basic breadwinner to support his Mistress and his wife. As time goes by, Mistress intends to explore his consensual limits to include similar services to those provided by Slut-2-Fuck. Currently he can be booked to perform manual and oral fluff and clean up duties. He accepts a caning (6 strokes) and is learning to kiss the feet and rim the man who is, or soon will be, fucking his wife.
*** *** ***
Sam stared longingly into Chris’s eyes and chinked glasses.
They were sitting on the deck of a restaurant overlooking the ocean as a gorgeous pink sun melted into the horizon. They had enjoyed another blissful day.
“All well at home ?” he asked.
She nodded. Fred and Kelly had both emailed her updates. And earlier she had logged into Slut-2-Fuck’s account. The month long break in her services had created pent up demand. Her schedule was booked intensively for weeks after their return.
They ordered from the expensive a la carte menu; steak for Steve and barracuda for Sam. Steve selected a US$ 200 bottle of French white burgundy.
“I could get used to this.” Steve sighed. “Being your lover.”
Sam smiled at him and their eyes met again.
Was this the moment ?
She had almost never been nervous in her life before. She just wasn’t that type of person. But she felt a tightening in her stomach. She took a sip from her glass of champagne.
“Not my lover.” She said. “My husband.”
He smiled, misunderstanding. “Yeah. Helping cuckold your husband.”
“No.” She shook her head gently. “My husband.”
He frowned, interested. “What do you mean ?”
“I mean that as soon as we can arrange it, I’m going to divorce Chris and then I can marry you.” She bit her lip. “If you’re on for that, of course.”
He reached over and took her hand. “Really ? You’re not joking ?”
“Far from it. I only arranged to marry Chris for tax reasons. You see, a husband can gift anything he wants to his spouse free of tax.”
“And he’s given everything over to you tax free ?”
She grinned, a little sheepishly. Of course, it wasn’t just about the money. But why gift the taxman money ?
No, it was everything. She wanted Laura and Chris on her terms. Destitute. So she would have as much control over them as possible.
“Yes. Although there are still paperwork and returns to be filed.”
“Wow.” He sat back in his chair, as a waiter arrived with their starters.
She had never imagined she’d fall for somebody like Steve. She’d always pictured herself with a rich, successful husband. But that no longer seemed so important. She had a Home now. Money. Income.
And a Plan.
“Of course,” she said, “we can wait a while. So it all looks legit. Give Chris his thrill of being a cuckolded husband for a couple of months. I think that’s the least we owe him.”
“And after that ? What do you plan for them once we’re married ?”
Sam smirked and shook her head.
“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it ?”
*** *** ***
Q27. Can I watch S2FH have sex with his wife during my session ?
A27. At a special session, you can watch S2FH do anything within reason to his wife including oral, fluff and clean up, or rimming her ass, or using a vibrator on her, even caning her, but you will not be able to witness penetrative or romantic sex between husband and wife. S2FH is kept in strict chastity and he will remain locked in his steel device throughout any session.
*** *** ***
Kelly was house-sitting Sam’s home during the honeymoon.
And so she was baby-sitting Chris too, in the evenings and at weekends.
Although Kelly had lived in England for two years, she still sported a year round suntan. Her long honey-coloured tresses were cut in a Farrah Fawcett style of a 1980s Charlie’s Angel. She was gorgeous but uninterested in Chris.
Sam had chosen well. Kelly was a demanding tenant, expecting him to arrive home punctually to prepare her grilled fish and salads, serve her, then wash and tidy up. Although she was lesbian, she was fascinated by Chris’s Steelwerx Extreme. She seemed to enjoy monitoring his showers and brief time unlocked for hygiene purposes. His obvious sexual frustration amused and delighted her.
The only physical contact she had with him was via the two ends of a crook-handled cane; the handle in her strong palm, and the long pole splattering across Chris’s bare, bruised rump. There was no sexuality to it at all. It was functional training, just like the push ups, lunges, crunches and other exercises that he had to complete for her seven days a week.
“Strewth.” She’d comment, when he collapsed exhausted at the end of his work-out. “I wish all men were wimps like you.”
*** *** ***
Q28. Is Slut-2-Fuck available most of the time ?
A28. Absolutely. But booking slots have to be limited to ensure that Slut-2-Fuck is fresh and in shape for every visitor’s pleasure. Normal booking times are weekdays (Mon-Fri) from 10.00 a.m. to 5.00 p.m. Evenings and weekends can be booked by special arrangement.
*** *** ***
After they returned from honeymoon, life settled into an easy routine.
Well, ‘easy’, in the sense of familiar, Sam thought. She was legally Chris’s wife now and she had occasional corporate functions that she had to attend as his spouse; his office Christmas party, a management-and-wives dinner, that kind of thing. On those evenings, she was on her best behaviour; charming, witty, determined. She made sure that both Mr Lewis and Mr Mitchell appreciated her, especially the former who couldn’t remove his eyes from her cleavage.
Steve’s life was easy too. He made friends with Fred and the two of them shared an interest in classic automobiles. Fred had an old Jaguar coupe in his garage and both men set about restoring it together and tuning it for amateur racing. Fred’s large home was located only a 20-minute drive away from Sam’s house.
Meanwhile, unusually for a ‘just married’ husband, Chris wasn’t distracted from his job and career by the amorous or adoring demands of his new wife. He lived a brutally chaste life and steadily learned increasing levels of humility. Instead of him, Sam was well catered to by his old friend Steve.
But life was busiest of all for Laura. An ex, no longer married, she was able to enjoy the carefree existence of a single 28 yr old girl-about-town. Her reputation as a slut who offered superb entertainment filled her diary and earned at least a couple of grand a week for the woman who had replaced her as Chris’s spouse.
*** *** ***
Q29. What are Slut-2-Fuck’s standard rates ?
A29. The following apply for in calls.
15 Minutes ‘Quickie’: £50
30 Minutes: £100
60 Minutes: £200
90 Minutes: £300
2 Hours+: Please email for rates
Out Calls: Please email to discuss
Special Offers:
A ‘book’ of 10 ‘Quickie vouchers’: 20% off (ie. £400, payable upfront)
Loyalty Package: 20% off (for regular customers)
Gangbang Package: £240 an hour (60 minutes, 12 men, only £20 each)
Bukkake Package: £100 for 20 men (60 minutes, no penetration, only £5 each !)
Male Pensioners over 65: 20% off
Male Pensioners over 75: 50% off
All Females: 50% off (eg. 30 minutes for only £50)
*** *** ***
Steve had a bladder full of beer and a belly full of asparagus quiche. He pissed into a bowl and sniffed the vegetable bouquet of his green urine. Whistling, he decanted the frothy fluid into a glass carafe and placed it to warm on the radiator for Chris’s return from work. For what Steve liked to refer to as Chris’s ‘cocktail hour’.
He was interrupted by a crack, a female scream and commotion.
He ran into the living room and found Slut-2-Fuck nursing her red cheek, cowering away from the large male punter who had obviously just hit her.
“What the fuck ?!” Steve roared, marching into the gap between them.
“I only hit the bitch.” The guy shouted, stepping back.
“Well get the fuck out of here.”
The bully looked at him in amazement. His tobacco-stained teeth were bared and he had thin lips. He reached out to push Steve out of the way.
“Get out.” Steve repeated, standing his ground. He glanced round at Laura. “You okay ?”
“I only tapped her.”
“I heard the fucking noise.” Steve said. “You hit her. Hard.”
“So what ? She’s a cunt.”
“No. She’s a slut, not a fucking punch bag.”
The scene ended with the unpleasant punter leaving, without his money being refunded and a place on Slut-2-Fuck’s blacklist. Steve cradled Laura in his arms gently and put ice and then Arnica on her swollen cheek. Fortunately it had been her final booking of the day.
He despised people who confused Bdsm with real violence.
A week later, Steve toured round the new house that Sam had found them all. It was much more spacious, with 5-bedrooms, a garden, and a large basement.
“This is it.” She enthused, excitedly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
She had used every penny she had saved to buy it outright without a mortgage. The entire profit she’d made on Chris and Laura’s 3-bedroom home, her savings out of Chris’s salary, and part of Laura’s cash earnings. She was now a proper homeowner !
Steve and Sam took a particular interest in the undeveloped basement. It was cold but not damp, brick-lined, windowless, with concrete floors. The only natural light filtered down from four iron-grated holes at ground floor level.
The basement comprised an old cellar with empty wine bins, a large vacant area, four small rooms, and a decrepit, hole-in-the-floor style privy. It stank of musky decay and stale urine.
It would make perfect staff accommodation.
*** *** ***
It was a hectic day. Sam sold her 3-bedroom house on the same day as she completed on the purchase of her new 5-bedroom home. She also initiated divorce proceedings against Chris. The final pieces of the jigsaw were slotting into place. She had accomplished everything she’d aimed to pull off before her 24th birthday.
Next, she managed to launder what remained of her stash of banknotes earned by Laura, by paying the builders for refurbishment and decoration work in cash. There were some raised eyebrows at her designs for the basement but, hey, money talked. They did everything she asked.
“What do you think of it ?” Sam asked Laura and Chris.
“It’s fantastic.” Chris replied, admiring the house’ space and views.
“Laura ?”
“Yes. It’s so large.”
“Just how you like them.” Sam teased her. They opened champagne.
“Well, it’s all mine.” Sam continued, chinking glasses. “But hey, you can live here.”
They sipped their drinks. Sam rarely allowed them any alcohol.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“Until I get bored of you that is.” She laughed. “Then you’re on your own.”
Laura’s ‘entertainment room’ was a large bedroom on the ground floor. It was furnished with a huge 4-poster double bed, a separate chaise-longue, a dressing table, a chest of drawers, two armchairs and a walk-in wardrobe. It was decorated pink, with frilly curtains and a mirror on the ceiling. There were erotic etchings framed on the wall of Indian and Chinese sexual couples. Finally, there was an enormous TV screen on the wall and several cameras on tripods.
In her ensuite bathroom, there was a sunken Jacuzzi, a multi-jet shower, twin basins and a throne toilet. Obscene framed posters of Slut-2-Fuck in explicit poses and in action with various partners covered the walls. A huge print of her squatting astride a kitty-litter tray hung on the wall above the toilet. A large brown stool dangled between her thighs and her face was crimson with indignity.
It was here that Slut-2-Fuck spent her daytime when she was working.
But at night she slept down in the basement. She and Chris each had one of the four adjacent and identical rooms. Two were empty. For now.
All were small and basic, measuring just 6 ft by 6 ft with concrete floors and bare brick, sound-proofed walls. There was a glass viewing porthole in each solid door but otherwise no window. A bright halogen light bulb was the only light and two CCTV lenses monitored the inside of the room. Everything was controlled remotely by Sam or Steve upstairs.
The only furniture in each small room was a narrow child’s bed, with steel springs, a thin mattress and horsehair blankets. There were pegs on the opposite wall for their clothes and a slop pail in the corner for overnight waste.
The only decoration was a framed photo.
In Laura’s room, she had a picture by her bed. It was of Sam on her wedding day to Chris. Sam was having an orgasm, clutching a bed sheet. The back of Chris’s head was visible lapping between her thighs.
In Chris’s room, he had a glossy photograph of Laura being spit-roasted. Behind her, a large black torso was visible fucking her from behind with black hands cradling her pale tits. Her profile was visible, squished in a thick mat of pubic hair and a sagging white belly, a hidden penis buried in her throat.
One day, out of the blue, Sam asked Chris. “How long since you came ?”
“Forty six days, Ma’am.”
She arched an eyebrow, glancing over at Steve who was listening.
“Is that all ? Oh that’s fine then. You can wait another few weeks.”
Steve nodded approvingly. Eventually their goal was to train Chris to go for periods of three or more months without relief.
Mr. Lewis, one of the two owners of the company where Chris worked, was a divorced man who had taken a shine to Sam. He was okay looking and obviously successful, but he was in his mid-forties and waaaay too old for her taste. When he heard that Sam had sadly divorced Chris after their very brief marriage, he phoned to invite Sam out on a dinner date.
She accepted and flirted naughtily with him. So much so that he eventually tried to kiss her.
“No.” She teased. “I have a much better idea.”
And so it was that, shortly afterwards, Jacob Lewis, became yet another of Laura’s many ‘lovers’. Sam allocated him a freebie slot every Tuesday afternoon, before his weekly game of squash. The idea was that Chris was obliged to work hard and long for a man who left the office once a week to fuck and sodomise his ex-wife. Jacob wasn’t particularly discreet about it either. He kept a photo of Laura in a bikini on his desk at the office.
*** *** ***
Couple bookings were rare.
Which made them all the more enjoyable when they happened.
Kev and Sonja were a white-black couple in the music industry. Kev loved fucking other mens’ wives and Sonja liked to dominate white men. They got in touch via Adultwork.com where they’d been searching for submissives.
“So, they’re not married ?” Kev said on the phone.
“Not technically any more.” Sam replied. “I had them divorced. But I’m getting them married again very soon.”
And so, at a quiet registry office service, six months after they had divorced, Chris and Laura legally became loving husband and wife once more.
“With this ring, I thee wed.” Chris said solemnly to Laura. “With my body I thee worship. And with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
Sam grinned to herself. Worldly goods ?
An hour later, the groom was lying face up on the 4-poster bed in the 69 position while his bride’s bald cunt hovered just above his mouth. She was still dressed in the same pretty white wedding dress she’d worn to marry him first time round eight years earlier.
Laura’s dress was hitched up above her back revealing her white suspender belt and stockings but she had no panties on. She was kissing and nibbling Chris’s naked hairless thighs, sucking her husband’s 3-inch metal tube into her mouth.
Sam, Steve, Kev and Sonja were watching them, sipping a wedding toast. They had all attended the wedding registry and then returned for the private reception. Kev and Sonja had come on a motorbike and were dressed in black leather.
“I think it’s time to fuck the bride. She’s gagging for it.” Sam said.
Kev put down his glass. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Sam watched him take up position at the end of the bed and drop his leathers. Sonja moved in close so she was standing inches from Laura’s head.
Kev revealed a shockingly large penis that wasn’t even fully erect yet. Sonja turned her head to smile at Sam and winked. She was a striking black woman, in her thirties, who looked like she’d probably been a fashion model once, but her waist was now rather thickset and she had an enormous bosom.
Sam could observe Chris’s flushed face just under Laura’s thighs. He appeared suitably apprehensive to see Kev’s heavily-veined hunk of meat jutting out. Sam gave Chris her best gloating smile. It was time for her couple’s renewed wedding vows to start being broken all over again.
Forsaking all others indeed. Hah !
At Sam’s request, Steve had recently spent several hours ploughing through Slut-2-Fuck’s historic records. In all, 107 different men had already paid to use her. That total excluded those like Tim, Ginge and Cole who had been her first few non-paying partners. It also excluded Steve of course, and Jacob Lewis, Chris’s boss, who never had to pay.
Kev was her 108th punter and one of the largest. He was a typical rock industry type; long prematurely grey-streaked hair tied in a ponytail, a face that had seen some hard drugs and harder living, earrings, some facial stubble, and large tattoos snaking down both arms. Laura emitted a guttural groan as he thrust himself into her bald, marital cunt. By now, she was ignoring her husband’s steel tube lolling uselessly in his lap and she was staring directly into the camera lens. The scene would make a special wedding video.
Watching, Steve put his arm around Sam and kissed her. She looked at him lovingly. He and Fred had gone into business together, buying, doing up and selling classic cars. She was looking forward to later, when the party was over, and she and Steve could retire upstairs to make love together in their wonderful master suite.
Steve. Her fiancé.
Theirs would be the last, and best, wedding of all.
Meanwhile, Kev had begun hammering in and out, producing loud grunts from Laura. He had shown Sam his negative STD test and was riding the bride bareback.
“Fuck the bitch. Fuck the bitch.” Sonja chanted, encouraging him.
Without warning, Laura suddenly squealed in a shattering orgasm. It took her and everybody by surprise and her wide green eyes desperately sought Sam out. She mumbled an apology as a sliver of drool ran from her lower lip.
“I ... I’m s ... sorr ...” she gasped.
Sam beamed indulgently. Laura climaxed so rarely nowadays. She had been so well trained. Why not cut her a bit of slack on her wedding day ?
“It’s okay my dear. Have as many as you can. Just today.”
Sam turned to watch as Kev threw his ponytailed head back and discharged his payload deep inside Laura’s clenching, newly married cunt. The mini-camera installed to the side of Chris’s head recorded a nice cuck’s eye view as Kev’s twitching balls and glistening dick usurped the groom’s privilege. Then Kev pulled out and a thick blob plopped onto Chris’s forehead, before a string of gooey pearl-juice followed close behind.
“Okay Husband.” Sam said, smiling down at Chris. “Time to drink a toast.”
Ten minutes later, the groom was hunched over, with his sticky forehead on the rug, while Sonja took his anal virginity with a strap-on. It was a thick black ribbed dildo and Chris whimpered bravely into the rug as his Mistress and his wife both held his arms down.
“Mmmfff ... mmmfff ...”
“Come on.” Sam said into his ear. “Your wife takes big cocks in her asshole, so you can too. Can’t he ?”
Laura was still dressed in her rumpled wedding finery. “Yes.”
Sam smiled at her, remembering Laura’s first time. Chris had held his love’s ankles apart while Tim deflowered her rectum. Now she was holding her husband’s wrist while some black lady opened up his tradesman’s entrance for future deliveries.
Sonja was a magnificent sight, rearing back so that three quarters of the dildo’s gleaming length was visible as it exited Chris’s anus, and then bucking forwards to ram its full extent deep inside him again.
“There we are.” Sam winked at Laura. “How to cut the cake.”
*** *** ***
Later, when there were just the four of them, Chris was allowed to masturbate to celebrate his nuptials.
Sam, Steve and Laura sat on the sofa drinking wine, watching him jerk himself off into a saucer.
“Don’t cum yet.” Sam warned him. “Patience.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He bowed his head and slowed down. It was so hard. He had managed to learn to wait several weeks and not to think about cumming. It was about managing his expectations. He didn’t deserve to cum as often as normal men did. He accepted that. But there was a point beyond which everything backed up physically so much inside him, like feeling bloated with too much food after a heavy meal. And it drove him almost mentally insane when they constantly edged him to the point of orgasm then made him stop.
“Look at your husband. Doesn’t he make you proud ?”
Laura looked over at him, and them. “Not really, Ma’am.” She shrugged.
Sam and Steve both chuckled.
Chris tried to fix his gaze on Laura. He knew she loved him. Really. But they both sometimes felt this antagonism towards each other. Like addicts blaming the supposed friend who introduced them to their first fix. But he and Laura were married again now. For better, for worse, for richer.
For poorer, that was for sure.
“Okay. A bit faster again.” Steve told him, taking over the wheel. “But still don’t cum yet.”
*** *** ***
Laura watched, as Steve eventually gave Chris permission to ‘consummate’ their marriage. Her husband gasped and groaned, his hand working in a blur, as he squirted his juice into the cheap plastic saucer. A thick helping of porridge.
“Would you like to lick up your husband’s cum, darling ?” Sam asked.
Laura looked at her uncertainly. “Do I have a choice, Ma’am ?” She asked in a humble way, not rudely, knowing she would always do exactly what Sam told her.
“Of course.” Sam’s magnanimous smile was full of understanding. “Naturally, you must drink every other man’s spunk. But you needn’t bother with your husband’s. Would you prefer him to guzzle it down instead ?”
Laura glanced at Chris.
What was one more load of sperm to her ? She’d been trained to ignore any nausea and just swallow as many slimy loads as men emptied down her throat in a day. And yet ? Why the heck should she do it if she had a choice ?
“Yes.” She said. “I would him to. Please, Ma’am.”
Sam simply raised an eyebrow at Chris.
Laura watched her husband lower his head like a dog to its bowl and start to drink.
*** *** ***
“You’re going on a honeymoon.” Sam said.
The day after the wedding, Laura and Sam flew to Miami. Laura travelled in the back of coach, in seat 69E, while Sam sat up front in business. It was a crowded, uncomfortable flight but Laura managed to get a bit of upright shuteye squeezed between a noisy kid and a large Asian gentleman.
The immigration line was tedious and the cab ride was slow, but eventually they arrived in the upmarket hotel Sam had booked. It was on Collins Avenue in South Beach and Laura waited fatigued while Sam booked them in.
Their room was on the small side but luxurious, with a generous King double for Sam and a narrow fold-down bed that housekeeping had installed for Laura. There was a marble ensuite bathroom. Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub.
“Ah.” She gasped. “Hurry. I’m full of airline champagne. Lie down.”
Laura had already removed her jacket. She slipped her slinky jersey cotton dress over her head and climbed nude into the white tub. She lay down with her face tilted back, and opened her mouth.
Sam perched astride her and smiled down. She stroked Laura’s cheek.
“Good girl, my little bidet.”
Laura stared at Sam’s copious bush. A golden jet appeared without warning.
“Ah.” Sam exclaimed, louder. “Mmm. That’s gooooood.”
Laura did her best. She held her lips and jaw wide apart and allowed her mouth to fill up to about quarter-way, then gulped the acrid urine down her throat, trying not to spill any. She then let her mouth refill. Her gullet burned and her eyes watered but she managed to keep almost all of it down.
Sam’s eyes watched her, amused, as she choked back seven frothy mouthfuls without respite.
Eventually the cascade slowed, and at last ceased.
“Phew. I needed that, didn’t I ? Now, lick those last few droplets up.”
Laura reached out with her tongue and lapped up the golden teardrops hanging from Sam’s pubic hairs and pouting labia.
“Now, what about that prawn curry I ate on the flight ?” Sam teased her, edging forwards, so that her bottom hovered directly over Laura’s face.
*** *** ***
Chris stood at the bar while Steve ordered their drinks; a glass of tap water and a pint of the black stuff. Steve had chosen the same gastro-pub where he had ‘bumped into’ Sam, Laura and Chris on the evening he re-entered their lives.
The owner landlord was a big redheaded man who mostly cooked in the upstairs kitchen while his wife pulled pints behind the downstairs bar. Chris followed Steve to a quiet corner table and sat down opposite him.
“I guess the girls should have arrived at their hotel by now.” Steve said.
Chris glanced at the cheap plastic watch Sam had purchased to replace his Omega. He nodded, sipping his lukewarm water. He lived an almost entirely vice-free existence now; a strict diet, no internet outside the office, no watching television, no shopping, obviously no masturbation. And no alcohol.
“Fuck.” Steve rolled his eyes at him. “I’m horny already. It’s been twenty four hours. Sam was in too much of a rush this morning.”
Chris smiled politely. He watched Steve down a slug of his Guinness.
“You okay ?” Steve asked. “You seem quiet.”
“I’m fine.”
“I mean it.” Steve was looking him straight in the eye. He’d slipped ‘out of character’ for a moment. It seemed he genuinely wanted to check that Chris was coping.
Chris met his gaze. That meant a lot. He was managing. Just.
“Sure ?” Steve winked. “Hey, you’re not regretting marrying Laura again, are you ?”
Chris’s lip curled in an ironic smile. “No ... not at all.”
Steve licked the froth from his upper lip and chuckled. “Good.”
A shadow fell over their table from behind them. Chris looked up. A vaguely familiar man of sixtyish was standing there looking down. He was bald on top with ring of grey hair and reading spectacles hanging from a cord round his neck.
“Ah. Here he is ! Chris, Fred.” Steve said. “Fred, Chris.”
Chris blushed, remembering. Fred had attended his sham wedding to Sam. He knew Fred was one of Laura’s regulars.
“Chris is Laura’s husband.”
“I know. Last time we met he was marrying Sam. Now he’s back with his first wife. Can’t make his mind up, can he ? Hey man, we didn’t get the chance to chat last time we met.”
Fred eased himself into a chair. He had a jowly double chin and a pot-belly. “You’re a lucky guy Chris. Fuck, I love your missus’s blowjobs.”
Chris swallowed. He didn’t really know how to reply. Fred had said it so pleasantly and nonchalantly, like he was complimenting a guy on his car, or golf swing, not his wife. He glanced over at Steve.
“Chris, say thank you to Fred.”
“Er ... thanks.”
“A pleasure. You should be proud, the way she gulps it all down. You’re a generous man, Chris, to share her with old blokes like me.”
Steve leered at Chris. “Fred’s a generous man too. He tips Sam well.”
Fred waved his hand in a dismissive gesture that said think-nothing-of-it.
“I love her titties too. At my age you forget how nice and firm young jugs can be. Nipples like coat pegs. And that tongue, wow. Shit, my asshole was never so clean until I met your missus.”
Chris couldn’t help peeking round to check nobody else was listening.
“Mind you,” Fred continued unabashed, holding his thumb and index finger up together to form a suggestive oval shape, “it’s your little lady’s own shitter that I like most. Tight as a gnat’s chuff.”
Chris watched him squeeze his thumb and finger against each other to turn the oval into a narrow crack.
Fred shrugged ruefully. “Naturally, my own dear wife never used to take it back there. I guess classy ladies are like that. So, thanks heavens for anal sluts like Laura. Tell me, do you love fucking your wife’s asshole too ?”
“Well ?” Steve frowned. “Answer him.”
“Er ... I haven’t ever ... you know... done that.”
Fred grinned. “Never ? You’re kidding. You don’t know what you’re missing, mate.”
“And he never will.” Steve interrupted. “And oral is a thing of the past too. But he does still get to kiss his good lady occasionally. And they do hold hands.”
Both men laughed.
“Fetch Fred a gin and tonic.” Steve said, pushing a five pound note across to Chris.
When Chris returned, Steve and Fred had been joined by the jovial redheaded landlord who had helped himself to Chris’s seat.
“It’s okay.” Steve said. “Just stand there.”
“Slut, two, fuck.” Fred was spelling out. “Google her. I swear it.”
They all looked up at Chris.
“Jock, this is Chris,” Steve pointed at him, “and he needs a casual job.”
“Yeah. He’s got to pay his wedding bills.” Fred added.
“No problem.” The landlord replied, looking Chris up and down. “We need a washer-upper in the restaurant kitchen. Weekends mostly. Okay ?”
“Saturdays and Sundays ? No problem. Hours ?” Steve asked, without even bothering to look up at Chris.
The landlord shrugged. “As long as he can manage. Twelve ? Midday to midnight ideally. And occasional weekday evenings if he can make them ?”
“Perfect.” Steve finished his pint. “And pay ?”
“Only minimum hourly wage, I’m afraid. And washer-uppers don’t share in the front of house tips. But he can have as much free moisturising lotion for his sore hands when he’s finished as he needs.”
Steve grinned up at Chris. “That all sounds fine. When can he start ?”
The landlord shook hands with Steve. “How about right now ?”
Chris shut his eyes. He realised this had all been a set up from the start.
Steve patted Chris in the front of his jeans. The hard steel of his chastity tube made a muffled clunk. The landlord clambered out of his seat.
“And if you weren’t a happily married man, Jock, I’d throw in a freebie voucher to fuck this guy’s missus.” Steve said.
“I can heartily recommend her.” Fred added.
“Don’t tempt me, lads.” Jock replied, smirking at Chris.
“You two want to stay for a bite of supper ? On the house.”
Steve stared directly at Chris, right in the eyes, clearly drinking in his discomfort and humiliation.
“Yeah. That’s a nice idea.”
“Oh, by the way.” Jock asked. “We pay cash. What shall I do with his wages ?”
Steve patted his chest. “Give them to me. I’ll look after them”.
*** *** ***
The movie studio was an hour’s cab ride outside Miami.
Sam was glad she had already met the producer and director at the hotel the evening before. She felt more secure having chatted with the two men in a public place. She had left Laura’s fee in an envelope back in her hotel room safe. The adult movie business wasn’t necessarily going to be any more profitable than Slut-2-Fuck’s main line of work, but it would add a whole new source of entertainment.
“So this is Laura ?” Hank said. He was from central casting; a greasy haired, tubby mid-forties guy, yet who still fancied himself as good looking.
“Er ... y ... yes.” Laura stuttered.
“Get on your knees and offer your director a blowjob.” Sam snapped.
Hank smirked at Sam, clearly surprised and delighted.
“You gotta be kidding right ?”
Laura’s green eyes blinked slowly in resignation. She glanced at Sam and then knelt down on her knees, reaching out her fingers towards Hank’s jeans.
Sam smiled reassuringly at him. “Not at all. You must have been offered your fair share by other wannabe actresses ?”
Hank licked his rubbery lips. “Yeah, sometimes. But usually only to get a part, or before the fee’s agreed. This is a freebie right ?”
“Of course. Think of it as a little extra to lubricate the deal.”
They both looked down at Laura who was kneeling, waiting.
“Please ... Sir. Would you like a blowjob ?” she asked.
Hank looked at his watch.
“Heck, yeah. Why not ? We got time.”
Sam watched Slut-2-Fuck unbuckle the director’s jeans and release his cock. It didn’t look appetising but the slut lowered her head onto it anyway.
“Oh boy. Mmm. I’ve already got twelve dudes lined up for this bitch.”
“So what’s one more then ?”
Sam watched Hank run both his hands through Laura’s hair to part it like a curtain. Her red lips were sliding up and down his veined shaft.
“Yeah, right.” He replied. “But pretty beginners like this usually only want to do it with handsome studs. I got her a bunch of twenty-somethings lined up.”
Sam had already seen casting photos of the guys, mostly hunky and tanned.
“I know. They’re fine for the actual movie.” She studied Laura’s head bobbing up and down under the guy’s paunch. “But there’s no reason the backstage fellows shouldn’t get a bit of action too.”
“Too right.” He exclaimed. “Let me sit down here a sec.”
There was a pause while he slumped into his battered leather chair and Laura scooted over on her knees. During the wait, Sam caught Laura’s eye and nodded approvingly.
“It’s really true this lady is married ?” he asked.
“Absolutely. Just married.”
He nodded. “Fallen on hard times, huh ? Needs the money ?”
Sam lingered. “Kind of.”
“Husband know ?”
“Oh sure. We wouldn’t do anything behind his back.”
He hissed. It was evident that he wasn’t too far from shooting his load.
The movie Laura was starring in was for a series called ‘Open Air Shame’. The location was a motel swimming pool near the beach. There were seventy porno extras that played the role of ‘the public’, basically hotel guests lying on cheap plastic sun beds, set up in long rows either side of the rectangular swimming pool. A few actors would be dressed as waiters and waitresses and hotel staff.
Males were in the majority but there were plenty of females too amongst the cast, mostly porn actresses themselves being paid a few bucks for an easy day’s rest. Dotted amongst the guests and staff on the set were the dozen studs who had got today’s key roles. They were a buffed up, cross section of black, white, Hispanic and Asian guys, all experienced porn actors, all proven STD-free.
Sam managed to keep a straight face as Hank gratefully humped Laura’s mouth and clotted her cheeks and gums with his greasy, middle aged seed.
*** *** ***
The message was lying in his inbox one morning.
It was to Steve’s account on Informed Consent. He had advertised in the personals on his and Sam’s behalf for a second live-in submissive couple, ideally married and aged 25-35, who wanted to join their household to serve alongside Laura and Chris.
Several timewasters had already replied and made enquiries, and he’d even met up with one ‘sub female’ who turned out to be a post-op transsexual, but there was something about this couple he knew was different. They smelt real.
He decided not to tell Sam yet. She was over in Florida and would undoubtedly still be asleep, five hours behind. It would make a nice surprise for her return if he could in the meantime make sure this couple were genuine and move things along.
Their photos looked good. They weren’t married, but they lived together. Both had previously been married to other people and divorced. Neither had kids. Tracy was 33 and looked a bit plump round the edges, but Sam’s diet and exercise regime would soon change that. Facially she was pretty with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and big turquoise eyes.
Mike was a bit older, 42, and pretty average looking. But there was something about his neat haircut, regular features and white office shirt that suggested money. He looked educated and middle class, and probably had a decent job. Sam would approve of that !
Steve didn’t believe in wasting time writing loads of emails. He sent Mike and Tracy the number of the pre-pay phone he used solely for this purpose.
*** *** ***
Sam had never been on a film set before. Certainly nothing like this one !
There were several cameras and microphones and a small band of technicians to operate them; cables, wires, boxes, paraphernalia everywhere. One camera was mounted on a trolley and two were handheld. One microphone was held at the end of a long pole, so that it could be dangled just above the action. In spite of the clear blue sky above, there were spot lights on tripods to counteract shadows.
The plot line was simple. Laura walked out of the motel towards the pool, past numerous gleaming guests on sun beds. They are covered in suntan lotion, reading books or mags, drinking pina coladas, soaking up the rays. Several men, and women, check Laura out as she struts provocatively past them.
She is shown to an empty lounger by a fresh faced Hispanic pool boy. He puts up her sunshade umbrella while she lays down her beach bag and removes her cotton dress. Her tits and ass are barely covered by her tiny red swimsuit.
It is obvious that Laura’s character is meant to be on the stuck-up side. She summons a black waiter and rudely orders a cappuccino and blueberry muffin from the menu. Her abrupt treatment of him is noticed by the people on the neighbouring sun loungers. She delves into her bag and pulls out a pocket mirror and makeup. She applies a fresh layer of bright red waterproof lipstick to her lips, pouting and preening and admiring herself in the mirror.
Then she walks down the steps into the swimming pool. While she sexily swims a few lengths of breaststroke, the sunbathing guests watch her furtively, eyes over the top edge of their magazines. The action cuts to the kitchen where the black waiter is preparing Laura’s frothy coffee and muffin. We realise that he is jerking off his huge dick and he directs his jets of creamy spunk into her cup, to mingle with the coffee and hot milk. Smiling, he stirs it with his finger and spits a long thread of drool from his mouth onto the top of her blueberry muffin.
The scene changes back to the pool. In the background Laura is swimming and in the foreground we see an unknown arm reach into her beach bag to extract her purse. It is evident that all her money is being stolen. The waiter arrives to lay her cappuccino and muffin on a low table by her lounger, just as she climbs out of the pool and sashays her hips back to her spot.
We watch her sip her coffee and taste her muffin, unaware that she is swallowing the waiter’s liquid additions. Then he returns for payment. She reaches into her bag for her purse. We see her panic as it is no longer there.
Soon Security arrives. Four hotel staff in blue uniforms. As Laura struggles, she loses her bikini top and then tries to make a run for it. Fortunately a couple of guests grab her and she is dragged back to her sun lounger. It is clear she is a thief who intended to eat and drink without paying and she is found guilty by the hotel manager. He starts dialling the police and she pleads for mercy. He offers her an alternative to prison. She accepts summary mob justice instead.
The seventy guests form an excited, jeering backdrop as Laura is stripped, spanked, slapped and fucked. Several men use her cunt and she is spit-roasted by others in her mouth at the same time. Then a man sodomises her and she is triple-teamed by a man underneath her in her asshole, another atop in her cunt, a third in her mouth. All the while, the blue sun beats down on her ‘open air shame’. A small group explore her beach bag and reveal a vibrator along with her mirror, makeup and now empty purse.
Somebody finds some rope and her ankles and wrists are tied to the lounger. While many of the guests drift away swim and play ball in the water, and others relax, drink cocktails and eat lunch, Laura is spread-eagled in the hot sun. A platinum blonde woman undoes her own bikini and sits on Laura’s face while a black domme kneels between her legs and rams the vibrator in and out.
“This is great.” Hank said, sidling up behind Sam. “She’s a natural. She ever do any acting ?”
Sam gave him a shit-eating grin. “I think she played Mary in her school nativity play two decades ago. That’s all. But this isn’t really acting for her anyway.”
They both studied the huge-boobed platinum porn star riding Laura’s face. Another lady has joined the fun. This one is a Chinese actress with pink-streaked hair and she uses Laura’s own lipstick from her purse to write ‘slut’, ‘whore’, ‘fucktoy’ and other names in bright red over her body.
The camera crew were gathered close round the action. There were still plenty of extras hanging about too, just in shot, enjoying Laura’s humiliation. One cameraman is lying on his back next to Laura, to film from below, the sea of laughing faces gathered round her.
Hank patted Sam on the shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. “Yep.” He whispered into Sam’s ear.
“You and I could make ourselves a shitload of money outta this one.”
*** *** ***
“Grind down on her face !”
Hearing those words made Laura’s mind flash back to the day - what seemed like a century ago now - when Sam had first introduced her and Chris to face-sitting.
She concentrated on breathing and what was happening to her. She was only vaguely aware of the audience and the cameras around her. Her senses were centred on her mouth, and breasts and pussy; she felt the woman scrawling on her with lipstick and the black lady skilfully keeping her on the absolute edge of cumming. Her bottom, thighs and pussy were sticky and soaked with everybody else’s cum.
The platinum blonde from Vegas had a round muscular ass and she evidently didn’t need any encouragement to spread it wide and grind her sweaty, suntan-oiled anus onto Laura’s squished nose and lips.
This was the most intense experience of Laura’s life. Her entire 28 years seemed to have been leading her to this moment. Everything from her childhood, her schooldays, her marriage when she was too young, her prim life with Chris, then the other men, her training, submission, and Sam.
Yes, above all, Sam. And what would the next 28 years bring ?
She grimaced as the vibrator inside her plopped out and she vaguely heard a cheer. It was muted by the thighs smeared around her ears. She managed to catch a glimpse through flesh of a tall naked black man crouching onto the sun lounger, about to start fucking her. She had lost count of just today’s number.
Laura knew that Sam would destroy her. Eventually. Sometime over the next 28 years. That was the idea. Sam would leave her and Chris totally wiped out; physically, emotionally, sexually, financially. That was the deal.
That was the Faustian pact she had made with the Devil.
In return, for this.
She gasped in silent ecstasy as the huge unknown cock ploughed into her and she knew for certain that she was about to reach a mind-numbing orgasm.
*** *** ***
Q30 What is included in Slut-2-Fuck’s rates ?
A30. In short, everything. There are no hidden extras. You agree everything up front with her Mistress in the knowledge that Slut-2-Fuck will provide whatever has been agreed. It is important that Slut-2-Fuck is not consulted and has no prior knowledge of either the start time, or the client, or the duration or content of any session (she merely needs to know about any costume or preparations a few minutes beforehand).
She is thus required to live her life in a constant state of uncertainty and preparedness to serve, knowing that at literally any moment of any day a customer (or group) may arrive. Please note that 15 Minute bookings can only include a bit of rimming, a hand or blowjob, or a quick fuck, and they must finish on time. It is quite normal for Slut-2-Fuck’s whole morning to be scheduled back to back with ‘Quickie’ bookings.
However, 30 Minute bookings can include anal sex. More leisurely and advanced activities such as massage, toe sucking, extended rimming, mild spanking and canings, verbal assaults, speculum and medical play, enemas, nettles, hot wax, hot peppers and chillies, ice, toilet play, group sex and gangbangs require longer bookings (one hour or more). However, be assured that whatever is agreed up front will be included in the booking rate.
*** *** ***
Three days later, Steve was waiting at airport arrivals. He hugged Sam and they walked ahead of Laura who was pushing the trolley with all the baggage.
“So it went well ?” he said to Sam. They had hardly spoken on the phone or texted for several days. Everybody had been so busy.
“Fantastic. They liked her so much that our slut starred in a couple of extra movies. ‘Golden Bukkake’ and ‘Whore and Piss’.” Sam shrugged. “The titles say it all.”
“Nah.” Steve replied. “You’re taking the piss !”
Chris was waiting for them in the short term car park. He was dressed as a chauffeur in a suit and peaked cap. He saluted Sam and Steve. Then he helped stack the suitcases in the trunk.
“Your missus is going to be a big star.” Sam told Chris.
Steve winked lewdly at Laura. She looked tired after the overnight flight; red eyes, dark rings under them, hair dishevelled. But it was hopefully nothing that a shower and a short sleep wouldn’t fix. He had scheduled her a busy afternoon.
He had accepted three one-hour booking requests for her from 2 until 5 p.m.
“And how were things at home ?” Sam asked, when they were all in the car and driving out of the airport car park.
“Good.” Steve replied. “A couple of bits of good news.”
He recounted the story about Chris first. How he and Fred had got him an extra job as a washer-upper at Jock’s place. How, even on the minimum wage, it would be worth good money if Chris put in two 12 hour shifts each weekend.
“And what’s this second bit of news ?” she asked him.
Steve was saving the best until last. He had already had several phone conversations with Mike and Tracy, the couple who had answered his Informed Consent advert. And last night he’d met up with the two of them for a drink in a pub. They were the real thing. They had even printed out and given him some story from the internet to read about a submissive married couple. It was how they said they wanted to live out their lives from now on.
Another pair for Sam to work her magic on ! An encore to Slut-2-Fuck !
“Go on.” She repeated, nudging him in the ribs. “What is it ?”
“Ah.” Steve teased, wondering how to drag out the moment a bit longer. He looked into Sam’s eyes and kissed her gently on the lips.
“Well now, that’s a whole new story.”
THE END
Author’s Note
For those who think ‘Slut-2-Fuck’ is farfetched, the initial inspiration for the story came to me when I saw the profile of a real person. Her name is Amber, or Fucktoy, and she is a lifestyle submissive whose Master generously offers her services to those in need. With a bit of effort, I’m sure you can find her site.
The inspiration for my character Samantha is another equally real person, a young Englishwoman I met via Fetlife. She is lifestyle, not for hire, and although I would have liked to, she did not want me to use her actual nickname in this story. She is actually a much nicer person than Sam, but she shares many of my fictional character’s personality traits and sexual tastes.
Regardless of the above, please note that all my characters, their motives and actions, are entirely fictional. Their financial arrangements are pure fantasy. ‘Slut-2-Fuck’ is an original work of adult fiction by Velvetglove and neither events nor characters portrayed are based in reality. Any resemblance with actual persons is entirely coincidental.
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