Earning Forgiveness Ch. 02

byMechanicalAngel©

"Lap it up," James ordered her harshly. She looked at the white mess and tentatively began to lick William's come out of the fake vagina. "There will be women there this evening, you see, and some of them may want to be pleasured by you. We want to make sure you've had some experience."

Emma had never even kissed a girl in her life, and the thought of going down on one made her shudder. She didn't even touch herself down there. But still she licked at William's cum, and tried to forget about the evening that was to come.

"Don't be so gentle, bitch." William pushed her face into the fake vagina and she got his cum all over her face.

Finally, her tongue aching and with cum in her eyes and up her nose, she was allowed to stop. "Go upstairs and wash yourself off," James told her. "Then put on the outfit that's been laid out for you."

Emma did as she was told, and found the same clothes that she had worn the night before. The boots were gone, though, and instead she pulled on a pair of black high-heels that made it difficult to walk. She glanced at the clock. It was five pm when she tottered down the stairs.

"Good," James said when she came back into the living room. "Let's go." He took her lead and pulled her towards the door.

Horrified, Emma realised that not only were they not going to give her any underwear; they were also going to leave the butt-plug lodged in her arsehole. Surely they didn't expect her to go anywhere like this? She was convinced the tip of the butt-plug could be seen beneath her skirt, and the streets were bound to be full of people: it was a Friday night.

But they clearly had no plans to remove the butt-plug. And neither were they intending to get straight into a car, as she had hoped. James unclipped the lead and told Emma to stay close to them or suffer the consequences. Her masters were dressed in suits, and she knew she must stick out like a sore thumb between them. They were walking towards the centre of town where the pubs and clubs were, and Emma could feel people's eyes on her.

Still, no-one actually approached them on their walk. Emma was actually relieved to be with James and William: she assumed that was why no-one was coming near them. They finally stopped a little way from a pub, packed with people who had come for a drink after work before starting on their real night out. They were young, around her age, and at another time she might have been one of them.

James handed her a note. "Go inside, sit at the bar, and order a vodka and coke. You can cross your legs, but if you uncross them you're not allowed to have them closed. Smile at anyone that looks at you. Be polite but not flirty, and make conversation with anyone that approaches you. If anyone asks, your name is Scarlet and you don't want to tell them you're your job is. If anyone asks why you're not wearing underwear, tell them it's because you like people to see your cunt. If anyone asks why you've got a butt-plug shoved up your arse, tell them it's because it turns you on. If anyone asks you to join them you will accept, but make sure you sit on a backless chair and facing the crowd. If they ask why, it's because you like to be looked at. If anyone asks to see your cunt you will show them. William and I will be in there too, but you're not to look at us or indicate that you know us. We'll make sure no-one gets too rough with you."

Emma paled at the thought of going into the crowded pub dressed the way she was, and the answers she was supposed to give. But William pushed her towards the building. "If you finish your drink, order another one. Keep going until we come and get you."

She took a deep breath and stepped forwards. Slowly she walked towards the pub, and the looks felt much more predatory now that she was on her own. She tried to ignore the crowd standing outside, and pushed through the throng to get to the bar. She hopped onto a barstool as best she could in her heels and crossed her legs so she didn't have to keep them open. She immediately realised that only made her dress ride up, and she was even more convinced that her arse was showing. Before she had time to decide which was worse, the barman approached her, staring at her cleavage. "I'll have a vodka and coke, please."

The barman nodded and mixed her drink. Almost as soon as she had it in her hand, a drunken voice came from a table behind her. "Has that girl got a fucking butt-plug up her fucking arse?" The man wasn't bothering to stay quiet, and Emma could hear every word.

Emma closed her eyes and prayed desperately that he wouldn't approach her. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and smiled at the man, as she had been told to. "Yes?"

He was in his mid-twenties, smartly dressed but clearly one of those men that shouted come-ons at women in the street. His friends were sat behind him, grinning like idiots and urging him on. "Have you got a butt-plug in your arse?"

Speaking as quietly as she could manage, she said she did. She was still smiling at him, and the man seemed to think that meant she was happy to talk to him.

"Boys, come over here." A couple of his friends joined him, surrounding her at the bar. She sipped her drink for fortification, and winced as she realised the barman had poured her a double without her asking. "What's your name, love?"

"Scarlet."

"Why have you got a butt-plug in your arse, Scarlet?"

She was dreading the question, and it had been asked already. Not only that, but the man's voice was so loud that it had attracted the attention of everyone nearby. They were all watching her, waiting to hear her answer. Quietly, she replied, "Because it turns me on."

"It fucking turns her on!" the man shouted. A table of women close by scowled at her and looked disgusted. Emma knew that look: she had given it herself to the slappers that wore revealing clothes and practically had sex on the dance-floor at clubs. She wanted to sink through the floor and die.

"Do you wanna join us at our table?" his friend said eagerly.

"Yes, thank you." Emma was still smiling, and she could feel their excitement at meeting such a slut at their local pub.

She followed the three men to their table, where a group more were sat drooling over her cleavage. She took the stool nearest to the crowd and sat down, thanking the stars that they hadn't asked her why she had chosen to sit there. "This is Scarlet, everyone. She's got a butt-plug shoved up her arse. She says it turns her on."

"It that true, darling?"

Emma looked at the man who had spoken and smiled at him. "Yes, it is."

The men all laughed and smacked the table in delight. "You're a fucking whore," one of them said. "You aren't wearing any underwear either, are you?"

"No."

"Why not?" They were all staring at her now, eager to hear what her answer would be.

"Because I like people to see my cunt." Saying those words made Emma blush, and she cringed at their obvious pleasure.

"But we can't see your cunt, Scarlet," the first man said eagerly. "Your legs are crossed."

"Yeah, show us your cunt if you like people to see it so much."

Emma considered running out of the pub right then, just leaving and never coming back. But instead she slowly uncrossed her legs, pushed the stool back a little to give them an unobstructed view, and opened her legs to show them her pussy.

"She's shaved as well!"

She could feel the eyes of every person in the pub boring into her, and she wished the men would keep their voices down. The women nearby were giving her open looks of disgust now, and Emma was fighting the urge to look for James and William to save her. Of course they wouldn't save her; this was her role in life now. They were making that very clear to her tonight.

"Alright, Scarlet; you've had your fun. Let's go." Emma whipped round to see William staring at her, arms folded.

"Hey, who are you to tell her when to leave? She's enjoying herself."

William turned to the man. "I'm the man that's going to put her away for solicitation." The men quickly fell back. "And I wouldn't get too close to this one, guys. Not unless you want your cocks to fall off. God only knows how many diseases she's carrying." William pulled her out of the chair and led her towards the door, men and women alike now looking at her with disgust and calling out derogatory comments as she passed.

James followed them, and they walked in silence a little way down the street, finally pulling into an alley. They were grinning at her and she looked at the floor, face burning with humiliation. "Did you enjoy that, bitch?" James asked her quietly.

"Yes master," she replied. She felt degraded and cheap, and they knew it.

"Why did we have you show yourself off to the crowd in that pub?"

"To show me that I'm worthless, master. To teach me that I'm nothing, to be looked at by anyone who wants to look."

"She does learn quickly, I'll give her that," said William mockingly. "You did well, and we're not going to punish you," he said to Emma. "But you're a filthy fucking whore for enjoying it."

Emma's face flushed even more at that, but she said nothing. "Well, the night's still young," James said with relish. "And that was just the warm-up." They pushed her out of the alley and hailed a taxi.

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