Birthday Treats
Clare has been my partner for just over two years; a pretty dark haired girl,
born in England, but of welsh extraction; petite, only little over five feet
tall; with wide hips and large full breasts, set off by an otherwise slim frame.
She is submissive, innocent and shy, which had made her seduction and the taking
of her virginity quite enjoyable. That however is in the past and I now look
for other ways to keep our life together interesting
Once I had lured her to bed Clare became an enthusiastic sex partner who
willingly greeted my advances even at times when other women might not. Having
had no previous lovers she accepted all my preferences as normal, allowing me
full use of all the apertures of her sweet little body. I am also building up a
substantial collection of photographs of her; displaying her charms in a variety
of attire and locations, which I'll post on the Internet when I eventually tire
of her.
Her twentieth birthday was only two weeks away when I was inspired me to make it
one that neither of us would ever forget. I thought that an event that mixed
the themes of ravishment with surprise and a healthy dose of forced
exhibitionism would make for an entertaining evening. I had two weeks to make
the arrangements. How well I succeeded I'll leave her to describe.
By the way I'm John.
It's the eve of my birthday and I'm having dinner with John, my lover. He tells
me that as this is a special night he has arranged some treats for me. I react
to this statement with a mixture of delight and apprehension. John is just less
than six feet tall, slim but well muscled with light brown hair and a very
dominant character. I love him deeply and will obey him totally, but he
frightens me because there is a dark side to his character.
He tells me to go upstairs and prepare myself for a night on the town and to
wear my little black mini-skirt with the tiny flowers. It is early so I take my
time bathing, putting on my makeup and dressing. It is warm and I had been
working on my tan, so I don't wear tights. I was glad that I had had my legs
and pubic area waxed yesterday. I complete my outfit with a pair of slutty
spike heels that I know John likes and return downstairs feeling exited and very
sexy.
John gives me a large white box, and I open it. Inside there's a beautiful
black leather jacket, waist-length, well made, my style. He tells me to take
off my blouse and remove my bra, as he wishes me to wear it with nothing
underneath.
I take off my upper clothes, as directed, and slip my arms into the coat that
John is holding for me; the satin lining feels sensual against my bare skin. As
soon as it is on I realise that something is wrong; the cuffs of the sleeves are
sewn into the front pockets, making the coat effectively a straightjacket,
trapping my hands and arms. I look like a girl with her hands in the pockets of
her coat, nothing special; but in fact I am pinioned.
John moves round in front of me and, staring into my eyes, slowly closes and
zips up the front of the jacket. He doesn't pull the zipper up very far,
leaving the coat open to below the level of my breasts, exposing my cleavage to
the extreme. He devours me with his eyes, admiring my exposure, and enjoying my
nervousness.
My apprehension increases as he kneels down and, reaching under my skirt, pulls
my panties, down over my hips and my legs.
The skirt that John has asked me to wear is made of flimsy cotton, the kind that
moves easily in the wind. It's hardly a decent skirt when I'm wearing panties,
but without them it's absolutely lewd.
My lover smiles, as I step out of my underwear, and explores my bare legs.
Sliding his hand up my inner thigh, he touches my naked sex that, at his
insistence, I keep fully depleted. "Oh yes! Easy access!" he whispers.
The intimacy of his touch thrills me, but my near nudity and the entrapment of
my hands, combine this with feelings of fear and vulnerability. John just grins
to himself, pleased with his handiwork. "What do you have in mind for this
evening?" I ask meekly.
"Tonight we're going to have some fun," he says. Here are the rules. We're
going out to a bar. When we go in you will walk around the room pretending to
be looking for someone. I'll be behind you. Dressed like that, men will want
you sexually. If any of them stops you, you are to smile and let them touch and
do with you as they wish. I will nod to you when I want you to move on. Do you
understand?"
Wide-eyed and trembling, I begin to protest, but he looks at me severely. "You
can choose not to, of course," John says, "but if you do, you'll never see me
again. You know you can trust me, don't you?" I nod, but with little
conviction. He knows I would never challenge and risk losing him, but I'm not a
tramp and am less than happy with the arrangements.
"Shhhh now," he soothes, putting a finger again to my lips, "trust me! Don't be
afraid!" and gently kisses me.
Our blue BMW stops in front of the wrought iron, red brick and stucco entrance
of a Georgian hotel. John gets out and tosses the keys to the young attendant
who, staring goggle eyed at my exposed cleavage, opens the passenger door for
me. Normally I would hold the hem of my skirt down as I leave a car, but with
my hands trapped and with no panties on, I haven't a chance of preserving my
modesty. Blood rushes to my cheeks as I give the attendant not only a full view
of my breasts as I bend forward, but also of my hairless pubic mound as I step
out of the car one leg at a time. The young man has missed nothing; his face is
as hot and red as mine. John grins as we walk into the bar, pleased with the
embarrassment he has caused.
The bar area, all polished mahogany and etched glass, is absolutely packed full
of people, mainly men, of all social classes, talking and drinking in tightly
packed groups. John indicates with a motion of his hand that I move on ahead of
him. I nervously comply. With a lot of physical contact and many apologies, I
push past the men; my over exposed cleavage and short skirt attracting a lot of
attention.
I expected him to be walking directly behind me, but glancing back I see that
John has distanced himself well away from me. Surrounded by men whose
inhibitions have been lowered by alcohol, nearly naked, powerless to protect
myself and effectively alone, I feel very afraid.
I jump with alarm as a voice addresses me. "Hello gorgeous! How about joining
me for a drink?" I turn to see a tall, heavy man leering as he checks out my
breasts and legs. I tersely thank him, decline his offer, and hurry on. I
glance around seeking the comfort of the sight of my lover. Some distance away
John smiles, and gives me an encouraging nod.
Men purposely fail to move aside, forcing me to press myself against them and
their hands grab at my body as I pass.
My heart nearly stops when an attractive man, casually dressed, with light brown
wavy hair, holding a glass of beer in one hand puts the other on my shoulder and
turns me towards him. He smiles at me and I smile sheepishly back. "Not so
fast, what's your name?" Not even thinking, I tell him. "You look very nice,"
he says. His hand has left my shoulder and is now resting on the outside of my
thigh. "Wonderful in fact!" he drawls, looking down at my breasts. .
Remembering John's instructions I make no attempt to move away
Encouraged by my acceptance of his actions, he smiles more confidently, and
moves his hand to the front of my thigh closer to my sex. I strain against the
jacket sleeves, desperate to free my hands, but the stitching holds. I can do
nothing to stop him; I am at his mercy.
His eyebrows shoot up as he discovers that I am not wearing panties. The hand
that made the discovery commences an exploration of my moist cleft. The man
talks to me, small talk; but I don't hear a word he says; I am only aware of the
finger lightly plucking at my clitoris. My breathing becomes more rapid, my
legs grow weak and my eyes begin to close, heavy with sexual excitement.
Starting to panic I force my eyes open and try to regain control. I look around
desperately for my lover. There his is and to my relief he gives me a nod to
move on. I smile; apologize to the man and quickly turn to go.
My skin is tingling, electrified from the stranger's touch, and my heart races.
My body is hot with shame and arousal.
I have not gone far when another man; tall; thickset; blocks my path, trapping
me against the wood panelled back wall of the bar. He is unshaven, has dark
hair and is dressed in soiled blue denim; I imagine that he is a manual worker
from one of the nearby building sites.
"I've never seen you here before. Nice jacket!" he says, with his eyes locked
on my exposed chest. Not knowing how to react, I smile nervously. He raises
his hand and touches the leather lapel of my coat. He traces his calloused
fingers down the edge of the open zipper, their tips lightly brushing my skin.
Becoming bolder he moves his fingers under the zipper, pressing them against the
flesh of my breast.
My passive acceptance of his actions makes him bolder still. After putting his
drink down on an adjacent shelf, he grabs my bum and pulls my belly tight
against him. Through his trousers I feel his cock, hot and engorged with blood,
against my hip. Pushing his knee roughly between my legs, he forces them apart;
only the panelled wall behind my back prevents me from falling.
"You're a sexy bitch" he says, "Come here!" His mouth closes on mine and, in
compliance with John's instructions; I part my lips allowing his tongue, tasting
of alcohol and tobacco, to probe my mouth. His hand is now completely under my
jacket, cupping my breast and grazing my nipple; his leg rubs against my pubic
mound. My arousal is matched by my feelings self-disgust.
Breaking the kiss the man grins lewdly at me and, rasping my cheek with the
stubble on his jaw, moves his mouth close to my ear and says, "You love this,
don't you?"
He chuckles as I tremble with fear, anticipation and excitement. His hands
roughly knead my bum and breast. The crowds of men milling around us fade from
my consciousness, as my mind focuses on the muscular thigh grinding against my
clitoris, sending electricity through my body.
My eyes are heavy and my knees weak. Wet and close to orgasm, I search
desperately with my eyes, hoping to see John and my cue to move. There he is at
last and he nods to me granting me freedom, but leaving this stranger is not
easy.
"Please! Please!" I beg, "no more!" Scowling angrily and loudly calling me a
'cock-teasing whore', he releases me. Everyone in the room is looking at us; I
am the centre of attention and the focus of their disapproval. I pull free of
him, and quickly move away through the crowd. Across the sea of faces John
gestures, with a downward motion of his palm, for me to relax.
With the insides of my thighs slick with my own secretions and struggling to get
my breathing back under control, I attempt to distance myself from my crude
assailant. Men ogle me, rub themselves against me and grope me as I make my way
past them. I am totally humiliated, helpless and desperate for sexual relief.
Two men, both wearing suits and looking like married businessmen having a few
drinks before returning home to their long-suffering spouses, approach me and
trap me between them. Neither have drinks in their hands.
The shorter and slimmer of the two takes my arm and says "What are you doing out
all alone, dressed like that and upsetting the customers?" The second man,
older, taller and overweight, moves behind me and presses his flabby body into
my back. His hands find my hips and I can feel his semi-erect cock pressing
into my bum.
Before I can reply the man who spoke to me places a hand behind my head and
crushes his mouth against mine. Forcing his tongue past my lips and into my
mouth, he effectively gags me. His other hand is inside my jacket roughly
worrying my erect nipple and kneading the same breast that had been so ill-used
before.
His fat friend meanwhile busily investigates my loins, initially through the
material of my skirt, then underneath it. Moist podgy hands explore the naked
skin of my buttocks, my belly and my pubic mound. Suddenly I jump, and wide
eyed, gasp as I feel his finger and thumb simultaneously penetrate my vagina and
rectum.
My heart and my breathing race as I am rudely molested in this public place.
The fat man's companion leers and he whispers in my ear that I'll have more than
fingers inside me before this night is over. On the verge of orgasm and shaking
with terror, I am having a hard time standing.
Through my lust and fear, I hear John's voice, "That's enough! If you want to
continue we had better take her somewhere more private!" I look round my eyes
wide with horror! My previous two assailants have also joined us and are either
side of me. I realise that John had set this whole thing up! He meant for
these terrible things to happen to me. Sick with thoughts of my love for him
betrayed in so vile a fashion, my head reels with hurt, and I sob with
humiliation and disgust!
"Let's get her out of here," I hear one of them say as, entirely boxed in they
half walk, half drag me, towards the door.
Outside the hotel the pavement glistens from a recent shower and the air feels
refreshingly cool against my hot damp skin. By the kerb a large black chauffeur
driven Limousine waits. The same young attendant holds the passenger door open
for us to enter. I realise that my ordeal is far from finished.
Assuming that I am expected to enter first, I bend forward to get into the
beautiful, shiny vehicle; being unable to use my hands to balance this is
difficult. The thickset man in denims moves up, and with his back to the car,
grabs my waist holding me bent forward with my head inside the car. Unable to
move, I feel hands unfastening my skirt, which they tug over my hips and allow
to fall to the pavement. In this position not only my lower body, but my most
intimate parts are exposed to the view of the men and to any passer by.
I feel a hand touch me between the legs and a male voice say "She's dripping!
Very nice!" Fingertips run over my wet labia, making me jump and gasp. I can't
move, and would fall had I not been held. Finally two fingers are roughly
pushed into me, hitting my g-spot and sending waves of pleasure and bitter
humiliation through me. I am unable to suppress a moan and cringe as I hear the
men croon their approval.
Finally they ease me into the car. Inside everything is very plush and smells
of opulence. Two long padded seats, each able to accommodate four people
comfortably, face one another. They are covered in shiny dark brown,
fine-grained leather. The floor between them is covered in deep pile wool
carpet matching the colour of the seats. Other surfaces are finished in highly
polished dark wood and all fittings are gold plated.
I am placed in the centre of the rear, front facing, seat, with my lover on one
side of me and the man with the light brown hair on the other; the leather
upholstery feels cool against the bare skin of my thighs and buttocks. The
other three men enter, close the door and sit down, leering at me from the
facing seat; the fat man is sweating. Behind their heads, I am relieved to
note, a privacy screen hides the driver.
John produces a cream silk scarf, which I recognise as one of mine. It is
neatly folded into a narrow strip. As the car pulls away he places it across my
eyes and ties it behind my head. "Trust me! Relax! I will take good care of
you," he whispers "tonight you are all ours to do with as we please."
No sooner am I blindfolded than hands are on me everywhere; they open the front
of my jacket, completely exposing my breasts; they pull my hips forward until my
bum is on the edge of the seat; grabbing my knees they force my legs apart,
spread wide, leaving my private regions open to their hands and eyes.
Fingers probe my wetness and tease my nipples. I try to kick and struggle
against them, but my legs are firmly held and my shoulders are pressed back
against the seat. I fight to free my hands, but even with the jacket open my
bondage remains complete.
I shake with terror and my tears soak my blindfold, but I'm sopping wet down
there too and my skin tingles with sexual arousal. Is the man right; I am just
a dirty whore.
I hear the rustle of zippers being opened and clothing adjusted. I can't
believe that John is going to allow them to fuck me! They are playing with my
mind. My question is immediately answered as my knees are lifted; I feel the
head of a warm cock against the entrance of my vagina and slowly, too slowly, I
am penetrated. "Take your time, enjoy her," I hear John say. I don't want them
to know how much I need this, but I am unable to control my moans.
My knees are held high and my legs spread wide as I am being taken; mouths find
and suckle at my breasts mine, another mouth finds my mouth, searching it with
its tongue, I in turn suck on the tongue moaning with pleasure and excitement.
"Helpless little girl," I hear John say.
The man inside me ejaculates deep into my womb. He has barely withdrawn from me
when another quickly enters me in his place. My struggles against them
fruitless; streaming with sweat, I start to experience one orgasm after another.
I want to scream in ecstasy, but even that is denied me. A pair of hands hold
my head and a thick cock is forced deep into my mouth. I control my urge to gag
and match my breathing with the thrusts as the organ repeatedly plunges into my
throat. Both men climax almost simultaneously; it is all I can do to avoid
inhaling sperm.
My legs are released, but I am to be given no respite. Hands force me to roll
over. Kneeling face down on the seat, fingers dig into and roughly part my
buttocks. I realise that my back passage is not to be spared as I feel a penis
pressing into my splinter. I scream with pain as it penetrates the tight ring
of muscle and tears into the delicate dry passage of my anus. Judging by the
feel of the flabby stomach that slaps into my bum I guess that the tall fat one
is my assailant. The pain eases as he repeatedly pistons into me, and easier
still as my passage becomes lubricated with his semen.
The men pump inside me hard and fast. I pant and orgasm hard, the climax makes
me cry out, but it isn't enough. Harder and harder they fuck me, making me lose
all control.
Any concept of the sequence of events disappears as they take me over and over
again. They fuck me singly; I am subjected to several double penetrations and
once they even use all three of my openings together. My strength to resist
them fades and when I try to struggle my lover says, "Relax! There's nothing
you can do." I am completely open, defenceless and helpless.
The men's assaults on my body slow and eventually abate. Their lust fully sated
they leave me; half sitting, half lying on the seat, confused, stinking of sex
and cold as perspiration and semen slowly dries on my sore and abused body. I
tremble and sob into the rich black leather of the seat. Cringing inwardly with
shame and humiliation I hear them thank John for the evening and comment on my
body and the things that they had most enjoyed. When they suggest that
something like this is arranged again I am horrified to hear my lover say that
he will see what he can do. I say nothing and am way beyond outward reaction.
My throat feels so swollen and bruised that I'm not sure that I can talk anyway.
The car eventually draws to a halt and I shudder as the cold air hits my hot
sweat soaked skin as the door is opened. Taking a last opportunity to grope my
body they kiss me in turn as they leave the vehicle.
Alone in the car, my lover draws me across his lap, removes the blindfold, pulls
the hateful jacket from my shoulders and hugs me, naked in his arms, until my
trembling and crying subsides. "You are so wonderful," John whispers over and
over.
In spite of everything he has done I love him; has this been the price of his
love? Will I in future look back at this night with revulsion, or with
recollection of erotic pleasure? Soreness and exhaustion render me too tired to
decide.
It was in the early hours of the morning that we arrived back at the hotel car
park. I paid for the hire of the Limousine, although I gathered that the driver
would have preferred something other than money for a tip. I then, after
retrieving her rather soiled leather jacket, picked Clare up and carried her
like a baby in my arms, back to my own car. I had given her skirt, earlier that
evening, to the young attendant outside the hotel, telling him to keep it as a
souvenir since she wouldn't need it any more. His blushes had amused me, as had
his obvious reaction to the sight of Clare's exposure.
Placing her, naked and with sperm in every orifice, gently in the passenger seat
of our own car I drove her home. An early morning jogger missed his stride and
nearly fell as he saw me lifting a beautiful nude girl from my vehicle and
carrying her indoors.
Upstairs I bathed her and washed her hair. Her sex was red, swollen and puffy;
blood had dried around her anus where we must have split her and bruising was
beginning to come out on her breasts, hips and thighs, but she was still very
beautiful and had given much pleasure this night. Her rosy pink nipples were
erect as she lay there, half asleep, in the warm water; I intend to have them
pierced soon, although the lady is not aware of it yet.
Finally after dabbing her skin and hair dry with soft warm towels I laid her,
still nude, on her bed, she curled up and was asleep before I had covered her
with a clean crisp white duvet. Her presents already waited for her by her
dressing table. I kissed her forehead and whispered "Happy Birthday Darling!"
As I left the room I pondered on her next adventure; entertainment at a stag
party; an experience with another woman; the possibilities are endless.
