tagGroup SexFallen Woman: Reformed?

Fallen Woman: Reformed?

byJMaxwell69©

The good Catholic girl turned MILF delicately pushed aside a shock of short coppery-brown hair that had fallen across her face. She was staring down at a densely packed page of legalese that was entitled, "Waiver of Liability."

"If you want to go this way, you've got to sign it. Otherwise, me and my crew have some place else to be, lady." I said, not hiding my irritation.

Having somewhere else to be was a lie, which made her foot-dragging all the more a pain in my ass. I was more irritated with her husband than her. He had said that the conservative-looking brunette housewife before me, who had apparently been quite naughty, had agreed to this course of action. Of course, he was nowhere around. He wasn't allowed to be. Sometimes husbands changed there minds when they heard the sounds - choking, gasping, gagging, vomiting, screaming, and crying - or, even moreso, when they saw what was happening. This was tough love, and "tough" was an essential component of it.

If she didn't sign, I'd keep the deposit, but I knew I'd never get the other half out of her husband- despite the agreement he had signed saying he was liable for wasting my fucking time. This wasn't the kind of thing one took to the justice system, if you know what I mean. It was an expensive operation. You needed a big crew, 20 guys in this case. That wouldn't be that hard to come up with or that expensive, but, if you wanted to do it right, you needed the right guys. They had to be disciplined and healthy. You couldn't have a bunch of chronic wankers because these guys needed to arrive with nuts brimming for this job. At least a few of them needed to be hung like horses, but they all, every single one of them, needed to be pure adrenaline freak type-A personalities with a bit of mean streak and no soft spots. The latter was particularly important in a case such as this in which the subject was a cute young maternal-looking woman.

Finally, after a long pause, she scribbled her signature across the line at the bottom of the form and jotted down the date. What would make a person sign such a form and agree to be subjected to this type of re-education? I don't know. It could be that old Catholic guilt and the incumbent desire to be punished for her sins. It could be that the alternative offered by her spouse was so mortifying that she couldn't dare face it? I don't even know what his threat was. Maybe it was to pack up the kids and head off, and maybe it was to let her dear old mother or the PTA know about whatever perversion she was practicing. I didn't know, and didn't really care beyond mild curiosity. All I knew is that her husband had caught her being bad, and had given her the option of either facing a weekend of deslutification or some, presumably highly objectionable, alternative. All I really knew was that my job was to apply aversion therapy. "Aversion therapy" was a fancy name for what your old man did when he caught you smoking a cigarette, and, as punishment, he made you smoke a whole carton two at a time in one sitting until you blew chunks and were reduced to weeping.

"OK, time to get started, fellows." I said.

With that the guys began to disrobe and stroke up their chubbies. The woman sat on the edge of the bed grinning in a manner that was a little bit defiance and a little bit anxiety. Part of her probably saw this as punitive torture while another part wondered if it wouldn't be as thrilling as her dark fantasies. She wore a brown long-sleeve shirt with a wide neckline so you could see the strap of the black cotton tank-top that lay below, and she had on a pair of blue jeans. Besides the hint of shoulder, it was completely modest attire. I took one long look. This would likely be the last time I saw her looking like a pure and lovely young mom. Before long she'd have cum crusties (not found in the cereal isle) on her face and in her hair; be bleeding from her knees, ankles, and ass; and be moving like a woman over twice her age as a result of the fact that her whole body would feel like it had been worked over by a prize fighter.

She wouldn't be taking a literal beating, but having 20 big strapping guys handling her like she was an inanimate object and climbing on and off her would take its cumulative toll, as would the reverberation through her whole body from the good hard and rough fucking she was about to experience. The only exception to the proviso of no hitting was during "climax control" training, during which she would be stimulated to the edge of climax repeatedly for hours. She was not to be allowed to cum during this time, and, if she did, she would be spanked on the clit with a wooden spoon. This was intended to teach her to control her impulses. Despite being excruciating, poon-spooning was not always effective as a therapy. But, then again, the entire program sometimes failed radically and resulted in super-slutification rather than deslutification, but that had been a risk her husband was willing to take. Actually, it may have been about 50/50, which is why my company guaranteed results, but did not stipulate which results.

After enjoying my long look at the cute pristine MILF, I issued the command that would begin her reeducation. "Strip!"

My crewmembers and myself stroked wood as the bespectacled brunette pulled the soft loose brown cotton top over her head. She was no longer grinning. She removed her glasses and put them on a side table. There was none of the flash of a strip club striptease, and that made it all the more titillating. It was voyeurism at its most thrilling. The subject was reluctant, hesitant, and completely unaccustomed to an audience of men standing around unabashedly stroking to her simultaneous disrobement and debasement. The black top below clung to her form pleasingly, but it was still nicer to see it go and to view her per teardrop-shaped breasts. A few involuntary statements of "yeah" or "that's it" were uttered as the topless young mom unzipped her jeans and, hooking her thumbs in her waistline, pushed both jeans and panties down around her ankles in a single movement.

She had no sooner stepped out of the shed underpants when I stepped forward and grabbed two fistfuls of her short stylish hairdo, and yanked her down to her knees. A short line began to spontaneously form behind me, though, as none of the men wanted to be too close behind the guy in front of them and the bedroom was only so large, most patiently waited their turns while watching the action unfold. I pushed my engorged cock against her lips and they yielded. She began to suck me off in a nice civilized blow job, but became distracted when I thrust into the back of her throat causing her to cough. I kept face fucking her with great abandon despite her involuntarily tearing eyes and the occasional retching gagging sound. I had to slow myself down after a few minutes. While I couldn't enforce it, I had told the guys they needed to have a week's worth of jizm saved up if they wanted to participate, but I, myself, hadn't cum in about two weeks. Needless to say, my nuts were straining and I was horny like nobody's business.

Feeling I wouldn't be able to restrain myself much longer, I reiterated the rules. "Remember, you have to swallow every load. No spitting."

She looked up at me with those watery pretty green eyes, and shook her head slightly in acknowledgement. With that, my cock retched up a thick load of slippery white cum into her mouth in several intense orgasmic spasms.

"Open up. Let's see." I said. I made her open her mouth so I could verify she swallowed it all.

As I let go of her hair, she probably worried that she would have bald-spots by the time the weekend was over because several strands fell to the floor from between my fingers. And, as soon as I was satisfied she had stomached the first load, the next guy grabbed her hair even more viciously than had I. He wasn't satisfied with just causing her to gag and sputter, he repositioned her to cram his cock into her mouth; insisting that she take all of his roughly seven inches at once. When her nose was buried in the flesh of his lower abdomen and his short curlies were pressed into her eyes and against her cheeks, he held her there until she reached the point of being panicked for air. Only then did he let her go and begin to accept being sucked off in a more conventional manner. After he came in her throat, she tried to takes some time to catch her breath, but the cavalcade of cocks continued.

One man after another took her mouth in various aggressive ways with the only point of commonality being that it always ended with slugs of man-goo being pumped into her mouth, her throat, and, on two apparently agonizing occasions, down her windpipe so as to cause her to go into spastic fits of coughing. The few guys who didn't grab her by the hair somehow usually managed to do something even more painful. One guy grabbed her by the skull and it seemed like his fingertips had probably left point bruises all over her head, and a couple grabbed her by the neck, often painfully pinching the skin. She was probably wondering whether makeup would cover the hickey-like bruises or whether she'd have to dig out a week's worth of turtlenecks.

She experienced all manner cocks by taste and touch, many of which she had wondered about but never experienced. She had a foot-long shoved in her mouth at one point. There were a few uncut cocks, and several black and Asian dicks, some of which confirmed stereotypes and others, well, not so much. It went on for several hours with men taking between five and 20 minutes each to reach climax.

After little more than half of the men had orally defiled her, she felt the distinctive pangs of nausea. She was so close to the end, number 18 to be precise, when she experienced what the aforementioned "old man" had hoped to achieve with his aversion therapy. She quickly broke away from the thick dick in her mouth and vomited onto the carpet. Probably having been nervous with the prospect before her, there was no evidence of breakfast, but, instead, only the mixed white and translucent cocktail of cum she had been swallowing down.

"You remember the deal." I said pushing her face down into the cum puddle on the floor.

"Swallow it back up." I reiterated. She began to do so. It probably tasted and stunk of bile.

I didn't really make her suck it all up, I just kept her face in it until I heard the slurping sounds that indicated she was attempting to comply and until I had literally rubbed her face in it such that when she pressed back up to a kneeling position the jizm was dripping from her chin and the tips of her stylishly-dyed coppery locks as the light glinted off the shiny hair. She had already been greatly transformed from the pristine young mom who had earlier been sitting on the edge of the bed.

While she was starting to finish off the last two, I moved around behind her and shoved a lightly-lubed butt-plug into her ass. Her scream was muffled by the cock in her mouth and, fortunately, she somehow managed to avoid biting down on the member of the hapless man she was servicing. Grabbing the fake-hair that protruded from the plug to make it look like a tail, I rolled the butt-plug around bouncing it off the sides of the poor woman's rectum. I did it with enough energy to surpass ecstasy on a dead-out run to agony, and the muffled cries of despair would have been heart-wrenching to a group that did not so much consist of cold sadistic bastards.

"You know the part of that waiver that I always think will stop people from signing?" I asked her when she had stomached her final load.

"No. I don't." She said in a pathetic voice but without disguising her irritation at being made to play guessing games after being force-fed cum till she puked and then some.

"It's the part that says: 'The subject acknowledges that vigorous and repeated anal penetration can, in some cases, result in permanent incontinence, and said subject waives all rights to hold those inducing penetration liable.' I mean... damn." I said.

"Anyhow... get on your hands and knees." I said as I clamped a hand onto her neck and pressed her head toward the floor again, which forced her to catch herself with her hands to assume the requisite posture.

I had put on a condom while she was finishing blowing her last man. I would use a little bit of lube as well; not for her sake, but for my own. While there was some slop in her cunt owing to birthing several children, her backdoor looked to be a bit snug. There was no requirement that the men use lube, or a condom for that matter. Most did both, but a few would barebacked it relying only on the remnants of lubricant from the preceding men.

I let her think that she would be forced to take all the cocks in her bung one after another, but I would break it up and require her to take no more than five before intervening with another activity.

"Can... Can I get some water, first? Please." Her voice was now raspy, intermittent, and weak, as though she had laryngitis.

"Yes, you may." I said, and the MILF walked away awkwardly massaging a sore jaw with the "tail" of her butt-plug swaying side-to-side as would a ponytail.

When she did not immediately return, I went to investigate and found her leisurely sipping her water in the kitchen with the butt-plug removed. "I did not say you could lollygag, or remove this. You are testing my good nature aren't you?" I said picking up the "tail" of the butt-plug and showing my displeasure as I pointed the tip toward her face. Then I bent her over the kitchen table and breached her bung with fervent abandon. When she looked back I could see her whence as I was not only impaling her ass but also slamming the front of her thighs roughly into the slightly rounded edge of the table. After a few minutes she buried her face in the crook of her arm. No doubt she was coming to the conclusion that being corn-holed by one man was brutalizing enough, but twenty more men probably would make her incontinent. Maybe she was thinking of the big twelve incher, or one of the other sizable cocks that had earlier been forced into her mouth.

After an agonizing session of taking the woman's ass, I finally had my second nut of the day into the condom. "Get rid of that, and wash me up." I said moving over near the sink and pointing to the rubber.

She reluctantly did as she was told, gingerly working the condom off and jettisoning it in the trash can pincering it between thumb and index finger. Then she washed her hands in the sink, and then lathered up her hands and washed my cock. Grabbing a big bowl to use as a basin, she used a cup of water to rinse off the soap, and catch it with a minimum of soapy soiled water dripping to the floor. It was a demeaning task, but I suspect she complied because it gave her raw ass a bit of a break.

"Back to the bedroom." I directed.

For a moment she paused and did not respond. She looked as though she was deliberating.

"Look, I'm sure whatever alternative your husband offered is still on the table. So if you want to quit, go ahead." I said reminding her that there was something at stake against which to weigh her decision to say "enough-is-enough."

With that, she sighed and began to comply by walking toward the back of the house. She assumed a doggy position once again on the bedroom floor. Her knees were already a little raw from her earlier oral servitude. A loud and disturbing noise made it apparent that the second cock to breach her was more painful than the first. Now that her ass was raw from the first vigorous butt-fucking I had delivered, it was hypersensitive. Because there would be plenty more activity to bloody those knees and make them a reminder of what it means to be a slut, I didn't object to her getting on her back on the bed to take the third and forth anal dickings. Number three stood by the bedside and pulled her backside to the very edge so that he could penetrate her slackening sphincter as he stood while hooking her calves with his arms, both to support them and so that he could pull into her more with his thrusts. Number four followed immediately using the same approach. There was a trashcan that was being used to collect the soiled and used condoms that was becoming a spattered nasty mess quite rapidly, and would, by day's end, no doubt stink to high heaven.

It was clear that she was beginning to become desensitized to the chain butt-breaching. The endorphins and adrenaline were now coursing through her bloodstream in large quantities and the human body was amazingly good at adjusting to repetitive pains. For this reason, I brought in the heavy hitter for this session's clean-up round. When I pulled her off the bed and pushed her back down to her knees, and then grabbed the pair of pants I had earlier removed and extracted the belt, I'm sure she expected a good old-fashioned spanking. When I folded the belt and pushed it against her lips, she was perplexed.

"You are going to want to bite down on this." I said, and, when she saw the man with porno-esque foot-long moving up behind her with purple-headed engorgement, she quickly figured out what the plan was.

She opened her mouth and accepted the belt, biting down on it. Mr. Foot-long had an actually relatively gentle approach, no doubt owing to the fact that had to use good form to avoid perforating the petite woman's bowels and causing a possibly fatal infection. However, despite the lack of violent thrusting action, one would never get the idea he was being gentle from the strained expression on the woman's beet-red face as her muffled screams resonated throughout the house. It was clear that the woman had never had anything close to this size in her bung before. Her arms gave out in short order and she was reduced to the butt-cheek-up-and-face-cheek-on-the-mattress position in which some infants sleep. Mr. Foot-long squatted and had to lean forward pressing down on her back to get the proper angle. It was clearly not that comfortable for either of them, but he diligently kept it up until he creamed in her ass.

Exhausted and moving like she had just ridden a donkey over the Rocky Mountains, the MILF moved over to the bed where she collapsed in a heap. However, there was to be no rest for the weary or brutalized. It was time to start the edging session. She would be allowed to sleep no more than an hour and a half at a time over the thirty-six hours of her deslutification session. This didn't allow her to get rested. It just allowed her to get groggy enough so what when she would wake up with a dick in her ass or a vibrator on her clit, it would be all the more torturous.

I rolled her over onto her back and splayed her legs wide. One of my crew handed me an interesting technological gadget. It was a dildo with wires coming out the bottom that, in turn, were connected to small box with a gauge, an LED light, and a reset button. The dildo had a strain gauge in it that could alert us to the involuntary orgasmic muscle contractions so that we would have a way to track the edge of her orgasms even if she didn't show the usual external signs. Most of the time it was not necessary, but on occasion it came in handy.

I pushed the dildo into her pussy, and, tellingly, it was accepted without resistance and with a welcoming moist sound. This one was aroused, and that would reduce the tedium as it was not likely to take long to bring her to the edge.

"You know the deal. If you cum, I'm going to spank that naughty clit of yours, and the more you do the harder it will be. If it happens five times, I'll know things need to be taken up a notch for you to take this seriously and I'm going to reach into your cunt and punch you in the cervix." I said as I laid the rough wooden spoon on her clit and then slowly dragged it off. Her hips raised and her breath caught in a manner that told me the technology between her legs was probably unnecessary.

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