Fools for Lust (22 page)

With my legs wide apart and my cunt still splayed open, there was no holding back the urine and it roared out of me like a jet, splashing loudly all over the stone floor. My face must have been redder than beetroot at that moment, as I suffered this impossible humiliation. Would it ever end? My pee kept on coming and coming, its stream still gushing out like a geyser, splashing my thighs and my stockings, cascading over my shoes. On and on and on. Finally, my bladder exhausted itself and the stream came to a spluttering end.

I felt bad, used, dirty. What would they do next? I already imagined the most diabolical perversions. And something in me, deep inside, was already looking forward to it, while the more sensible – civilized? – part of me was damn angry, eager for revenge. I had never been able to control my anger well. It had always done me much disservice.

‘Isn't she just beautiful?' I heard my lover say.

‘Yes,' replied another man. ‘Great arse. Just love that dark mole right on the bottom curve of those cheeks. I'd love to bite it off.'

I shuddered.

Another: ‘That cunt seems nice and tight.'

‘But it's quite accommodating,' my lover said. ‘She'll take a lot.'

‘And at the rear,' a woman asked, ‘has she any experience?'

‘Not with me,' my lover said. ‘She never wanted to. But when she betrayed me with the other, I know they tried it.'

‘And that is why you want her punished, is it?' an older man's voice asked.

‘Yes,' my dark lover said. ‘And don't even tell me it's petty, I know that already.'

‘So be it,' the older man said.

I heard steps, and a door close. They wanted me to believe my lover had left, but I knew he would stay and watch. I could still feel his silent presence and his eyes feasting on the indecent spectacle of my bare flesh. Brightly conscious of the pornography of the fact that my upper body was still fully clothed, while my lower half wantonly displayed itself, wet stockings stuck to my legs, the strong smell of urine and fear surrounding me, held apart like a sacrificial offering, like a piece of meat, devoid of all will ...

‘Ready her.'

A regiment of hands trooped over my body. The soiled stockings were peeled off, and the high-heeled shoes. The ropes were lengthened somewhat so that shoeless, I was still forced to stand on the tip of my toes to support myself. Scissors cut through the garter belt and the blouse and the brassiere strap, and the remaining flaps of shredded material were pulled away from me.

I was totally nude.

They tightened the band across my eyes. There was no hint of light.

The whip came first.

I'd read the books, seen the films, I know. This I somehow expected. But the pain was still hard to bear and I knew that my rear by the end must be a garish spectacle of crisscrossed red Mondrian patterns. I counted the blows – 30 in all. Then a few gentler ones against my breasts, making my tips now impossibly erect. I think I even managed to pee a bit more when the last few lashes of the whip caught the outer edge of my crotch.

‘She can take the pain,' someone said.

Then my ankles, still wide apart, were seized and fastened to the floor where they must have fitted metal loops.

Hands reached for my cunt and held my lips apart, while an acolyte began brushing me with some sort of sticky liquid over my whole genital area. And forcibly poured further quantities of the gooey stuff into me, using at least two or three fingers and stretching my opening even more.

What was it? They relaxed the ropes holding my arms and a gentle pressure on my shoulders indicated I should lay down. I did. Thoughtfully, a rug had been laid out on the stone floor and I spread out on it keeping my limbs apart. The contact of my raw behind against the rough surface was a trifle painful at first.

As soon as I was in position, they opened me up even wider, increasing the angle of revelation spreading from my crotch and my breasts, before tethering my ankles to the metal rings, as well as my hands high up behind me. The way I was now, all and sundry could look all the way into me, into the sheer pinkness he always enthused about. The bastard. This wasn't a joke any longer.

‘Bring in the dog.'

I struggled fiercely, but they had me tied down very efficiently and I couldn't move even the centre of my body. My paltry attempts only served to increase the painful scraping of my well-whipped buttocks against the rug's coarse material.

‘No, not a dog,' I screamed. ‘You can't, you just can't, it's not ... allowed, it's illegal. It's, no ... Please,' I begged, tears welling up inside my eyes. Which they of course couldn't see, did not wish to see.

Horrified at the prospect ahead – even in pornographic stories this wasn't allowed, it overstepped the mark – I had forgotten the earlier ban on my speaking.

‘Quiet, bitch.' The man who said this slapped my cheeks several times until I felt blood inside my mouth.

The liquid they had inserted inside my cunt was burning me a bit, felt dreadfully sticky.

I heard muffled steps, movement approaching my outstretched body. Expecting the worse. I knew there was no way I could take this. I'd be sick, surely. Jesus, Jesus, not a dog. It'd tear me apart, injure me. They couldn't do this to me. Surely? How could my lover allow this? Maybe he was no longer here.

I thought I heard a whirring sound somewhere in the dark background. A camera. They were filming the whole thing. The swine, the bloody fucking bastards.

‘Woof, woof,' a woman's voice, giggling almost uncontrollably. The others all around me all went ‘Woof, woof' in unison. A choir of animals.

A wet, floppy flannel, like a tongue, began slobbering all over my cunt.

Behind it, a real tongue. A woman's. You recognise those things. Licking me.

The flexible appendage burying itself in my curls, tickling my engorged outer lips. Her lips grazing the skin of my mound as she delved deeper.

‘Woof, woof,' the choir continued. The woman's tongue was licking me clean, with the application of a docile pet, a dog. Must have been honey they had spread inside me. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Relaxed a touch, as the woman went about her cleaning business. Blushed deeply when her tongue almost corkscrewed through between my lips and began sucking out the goo from inside. Unavoidable excitement steadily rising through me. The woman imitating an animal was oh-so thorough as she patiently licked, sucked, nibbled at me to extract every ounce of goodness. And every move of her cunning tongue sent fierce arrows coursing through me; I felt a deep flush spread from my cheeks down to my neck, shoulders and breasts. I was a thousand times madly alive. Ignorant of my mounting fervour, she slaved away, unemotional, systematic, hungry for my taste. My limbs pulled frantically at the restraints; to no avail. My insides were turning to jelly. I even thought for one brief moment that my bowels would let go. The sensations inside me increased exponentially as the woman's tongue caressed my dilated cunt. My throat tightened. The pressure of her roving tongue switched up to my clitoris and I literally exploded. I came.

Loudly.

Screaming like an animal myself. Too far gone now to remember the previous instructions of silence.

I sighed, following the uncontrollable release.

I wasn't punished for my shameful outburst.

They had what they wanted: I had been brought to orgasm, not by an animal, but like an animal. Wanton. In full view of their obscene assembly. And not any old orgasm; the best I could remember in ages. Where had the woman learnt her skills?

‘Interesting,' the voice of the older man was heard again.

The woman's mouth moved away from my genitals, dropping spittle over my cunt.

‘Impressive,' he said. ‘Would a real animal have given her so much pleasure? Could be an interesting experiment ...'

‘No, please. You can't be serious,' I pleaded. ‘I draw the line somewhere, and bestiality is definitely out. Leave it to the pages of the under-the-counter-books. It's too damn scary. I'd do anything else. You can do anything to me, but not that.'

‘Anything?'

‘Yes,' I whispered.

So, anything it became.

I sucked men's cocks. Strange how every single one not only tastes but feels different. You know, the texture of the skin, the geography of foreskins, absent or stretched, the topography of bulging veins against the tongue. After an hour or so, my jaw ached and the bulging members all became a blur. For all I know, they could even have slipped the dog in between the parade of men and I might not have noticed. Smell of skin, talcum, cologne, sweat, urine, they all merged as I sucked away like an automaton. They all came in my mouth, different flavours ranging from acrid to sickening, sweetish to bitter. I've never liked the taste of men's come and every time forced myself to swallow it without allowing my tongue to linger on the taste, for fear of gagging. Some were thick, others were long. They filled my mouth and swelled unconscionably until there was nowhere for them to expand farther and I had to control my breathing lest I choke. Hard as steel, soft as gristle, pliant, rough, bent, odorous, I can tell you stories of cocks, evoke their gaudy geography in all shades of disgust.

Finally, they tired of my mouth and I knew that none of the penises I had milked had been my lover's.

They sat me in a chair, legs apart as always and lathered my groin, before shaving my wonderful curls away, leaving me absolutely bare, my open gash like a red wound between my thighs. Everyone present lined up to lick me clean, men and women, few of them were as good as the dog. I became very wet but didn't come. Had no energy left for it, I thought.

I was then unshackled and made to bend over, hands and knees to the rough floor, while alien objects were inserted inside me, forced through my openings, twisted relentlessly inside me until it became painful and I had to beg them to stop.

They took the cloth away from my eyes at long last, and I saw the hall in all its faded grey glory and my lover sitting in front of me in the same chair I had been summarily shaved on. I was instructed to keep my head high as he lowered his trousers and began slowly masturbating while every man present took his turn fucking me from behind under the attentive gaze of my lover. He never lowered his eyes once; neither did I as they all pounded into me, tearing at my increasingly bruised opening, alternatively releasing their hot spend inside my vagina or quickly disengaging themselves from me before spurting over my back, like in a bad porno movie.

I never saw what any of them looked like.

My lover controlled his jerking off to the rhythm of the men penetrating me, never allowing himself to orgasm. At last, they had all taken their turn, I was still on my knees, come streaking down the back of my thighs and drying all over my back and buttocks, my lover signalled someone standing behind me. This beautiful tall woman with flowing dark auburn hair walked across to him, pulled up the scarlet silk evening gown she was wearing, turned round so she was facing me and lowered herself onto his cock. I wanted to look away, but I knew they wouldn't let me and, anyway, I was fascinated. His thick cock parted her plump lips. I briefly noticed she sported a small golden ring in one of her labia, her pubic hair was dyed dark red and she sported a tattoo of a penis between her navel and cunt. He entered her and she took him into her up to the hilt, the spectacle of her cunt fading into his thick bush assaulting my senses as she began heaving herself up and down on him. I became transfixed by the spectacle of their lovemaking, hypnotised by the junction of their sexes and the white juice that appeared to emanate from her and accumulated in a thin layer at the base of his cock. As I watched the two of them, someone behind me brutally inserted a finger in my anus, then another, forcing the sphincter muscles apart.

‘She's not quite ready,' a man remarked.

I was pulled up from the floor and made to squat. In this position, my sex gaped wide open.

In front of me, my lover and the tall woman disengaged. His seed was spilling out of her cunt. She ordered him to clean her and he lowered himself to the ground and began licking his own come out of her body. As he obediently did this, she fixed me in the eyes and said:

‘Empty yourself.'

I didn't get it.

I looked puzzled.

One of the men who had fucked me earlier brought a chamber pot around and placed it under my squatting buttocks.

‘There,' she said. ‘You'll have to make some space in there, whore. Empty yourself.'

I lowered myself onto the chamber pot, but the man next to me pulled me up and indicated I was not allowed to sit and had to do the deed while only supported by my heels. Again, he took my hands and bound them behind my back, which made equilibrium even more problematic.

‘Hurry up, bitch. We haven't got all day,' the woman shouted at me.

I was beyond humiliation. I tightened my stomach muscles, applied all the pressure I could muster on my bowels, pushed, held my breath, and managed to force some meagre faecal matter out of my arse. It dropped the requisite two feet into the bowl. I pushed again with all my might and two further mini-parcels of shit extruded themselves out. They pulled me away. For one moment, I feared they might want me to eat it. I had said I would do anything. I was made to bend over with my bum high in the air and my lover, my gentle lover, my dark lover licked my cleft clean.

Gently he then applied some cold cream to my anal aperture and slipped a finger in to test the elasticity.

‘This is going to hurt, my love,' he whispered in my ear as he spread the cream around the rim of my arsehole and forced some inside.

I knew what was coming.

Again they covered my eyes and my hands were tied to the pulleys and raised upwards. Another man shackled my feet to another set of ropes and these were gradually pulled up so that I was now suspended in the air, a few feet from the ground, quite horizontal, my whole body outstretched to all poles. A nude spreadeagled magician's assistant, with both supports and all my varied private apertures fully visible to the congregated audience.