Gangslut's Background

Now that she had accepted me as her Dominant "Master", her Daddy, and her Priest in the worship of her whoreship, we spent much time delving into the past, exploring the incidents that had created the patterns and programs she now followed. Much of this exploration occurred under erotic hypnosis, often combined with various forms of ritual sexual power focusing, such as Tantra.

One session produced a mine of precious memories, glittering brighter than jewels...

"Why do you enjoy group sex and gangbang fantasies so much? What experiences have shaped you this way?"

The stories welled forth from her half asleep lips, sultry like a sleep-talking woman murmuring to he who is violating her in her dreams...

Deep whispers of a dark past far before rationality, of Fathers, and Brothers, best left untouched for the sake of sanity...

Adrift in the foster-care system with a half brother with whom she shared comfort, need, and exploration...

The day her adopted father beats her for her slutty ways... the day her brother offers her a needle to dull the pain of the broken ribs...

One hell rapidly traded for another, and finally during one fight she just... leaves.

Wandering the city park, just trying to clear her head. Her veins are singing harmonies to the universe, and her nerves are awash with sensation, so strong it almost burns. A group is gathered ahead, she recognizes some faces from her college... haven?

They see her, the "tough girl" with the black clothes and the spikes. The one with the attitude, who clearly relishes the effect her stunning body, waist length red chair, and divers flexibility has on bystanders.

This girl is used to getting her way with men.

She rushes among them seeking any sort of anchor. A girl in her English class catches her and asks her if she's OK. She starts spinning bullshit, because she's almost incapable of telling the truth when she's this spun up and in this much fear...

She smells the rum now. Her "friend" doesn't look so friendly...

"Aww, look who's all fucked up and running away from Daddy. Little Miss Wears plaid miniskirts to show off her g-strings and will fuck anyone despite their relationships, because it's 'not Her problem'!"

The girl grabbed her by the hair. The guys started closing in. One thing she'd learned all those bad years was how to hit. Her punch broke the bitches hold, and with any luck her jaw.

As she surged back the drunken pack of upper class jock boys, Greeks and general A-listers came at her with a will. Despite her best moves and almost berserk resistance they got a hold of her by sheer numbers and immobilized her with hands across the whole of her body. Her shirt was ripped open, her bra torn off, and her panties ripped from beneath her miniskirt. She was hoisted in the air, face down, while hands explored her most intimate places. Her brain began to involuntarily fall into the fog programmed into her subconscious so long ago...

She barely recognized the cock that slid between her lips. She swallowed it and nursed like a baby calf suckling at a teat. The adrenaline surge from this drunken gang-rape had this football player on the verge, and he almost immediately began unloading his backlog of cum down her throat in convulsive jets of ropy strands. She murmured like a happy baby and drank it all. Then a cockhead pushed against her wee starfish. Her eyes sudden awoke in shock...

NO ONE!

(except her foster father, but that wasn't her fault...)

NO WAY!

As the unfamiliar cock drove into her asshole, she twisted like a salmon on a hook. She suddenly bit down on the softening cock in her mouth, hard enough to draw copious amounts of blood.

Spitting blood in their faces disturbed her captors enough that she could twist free, and with speed , fear and adrenaline surging in her veins she runs.

And runs.

And finds herself at home. The home that is no longer hers. She's been kicked out. She has nowhere to go. She sneaks in to tell her brother goodbye. He's not there. She looks around, but their "Father" has heard something. She hasn't much time. She grabs the shoe box that holds her bro's stash and skates out the window before that bastard can arrive.

In shock, suddenly on the streets, nearly raped and half naked, her only positions her tattered clothes and a shoe box with a rather hefty amount of drugs contained within, she walks to the truck stop.

Truckers are supposed to like speed, right? Helps them do their job. I gotta be able to trade this for a ride the hell outta here and a little money for food and new clothes.

Across the fields between the city and the strip of businesses serving the highway. Moving faster now that she knows she's out of sight. Watching the truck stop along the interstate. She's tied her torn shirt back together, but the tied ends gather between her tits and draw them into focus. If she still had a bra it'd be one thing, but right now her nipples are staining against the thin fabric from the exertion and cold night air. She still has on her red plaid micro-miniskirt, her white socks and her short, heeled boots.

As she tremblingly steps into the pool of light from a mercury arc lamp she has no idea how much she looks like the usual first time truck stop whore.

She starts talking to a guy. They speak in thinly veiled code. It's obvious she's selling, and he's buying. They head into the darkness, and into the sleeper cab of a parked rig. She quickly gets out as voices are being raised. She's told to get the fuck away with her junk.

Desperate, she heads for the next truck stop at a determined walk. She doesn't stop to consider the nature of CB's, or radios at all. She's burning with righteous indignation.

This pool of light has a group in it. They're smoking and drinking beer from a cooler full of bottles. Their rigs are parked so that the central "gathering point" is all buck blocked from most occupied sight lines by various trucks.

"Hey Darlin', what you looking for tonight?" \par

She doesn't catch the faint sarcastic edge to the voice.

After her last experience, she's just laying it out...

Opening the box "Good stuff... $1000 on the street, easy. Yours for $500 and a ride the fuck outta this place."

"Well, from here, I don't see anything I want I can't get for $200 on any corner in Vegas, right, guys?"

Masculine laughter, low and cruel.

"You have ANY idea how big the fines are if you're caught with speed? How hard they look for that shit these days? You trying to make us lose our jobs?"

Another, behind a dark, crafty face... "Tell you what.... for that thousand we won't go to the cops..."

\par

Sobbing, terrified "I don't have any money."

They looked at each other. She was stunned, like a doe in headlights. "Well, hell... He said $200, and there's five of us..."

She started to run, but they caught her up. As she struggled she caught a glimpse through the wall of trucks and realized that no one was within range to hear or help. They dragged her into an empty box trailer and closed the door with the cargo light on.

One of them snatched the box away and backed to the door.

"Play nice and you'll get this back, and we won't call the cops."

"Wha.... What?"

"Don't bite or draw blood or keep fighting if you're beat down. Otherwise, do your worst. We like a bit of a struggle. Gets the blood up." This last was accompanied with a leer.

At last she realized what she was in for, where she had led herself astray... but it was too late. They were on her. True to his words, they like her resistance. Rough hands grappled with her, twisting her about painfully, and levering her open. Fists grabbed her waist length hair at the roots. A cock rammed into her lips. When her moth failed to open, her hair was twisted violently. As her mouth opened to scream she was suddenly muffled with a cock. Without the slightest regard he slammed her throat again and again. She was gagging, stomach convulsing and thick strands of saliva draining down her chin. At least two hands were on each leg, and they hoisted her waist high as if to make a wish. She felt like she was going to be ripped in half, they were spreading her legs so wide, it hurt even with the distraction of her skull fucking.

Then the tree shoved itself up her ass.

OK, so it wasn't a tree, exactly. But that had to the largest, hardest, and knobbiest cock she'd ever even seen, and it was ramming into her already sore bum without lube or permission. A white hot nova burst in her guts and she moaned against the cock buried in her mouth. The huge rough cock started to withdraw, and she gasped as the flames spread and started to change. When he rammed home again she, against all volition, thrust back against him. Her bodies own hardcoded submissive and masochistic tendencies were betraying her.

All her life, her brain had tried to defend her. When she was attacked, it responded. It taught her to desire the roughest treatment, and respond with love, and it taught her to... break herself.

The tough girl punk had failed to protect her. A new personality was born in a flash of invisible fire.

This one knew her place and worth. She could get anything... by giving a man all of his darkest desires. The more taboo, the more she would embrace them. Why not? It was where her life always forced her.

She gave in without giving in. They used her till dawn. Every hole, by every man. Repeatedly. She fought when they wanted to hurt someone, and fucked them like the ultimate fetish fantasy girl when they had her on the brink. They exhausted her, and broke her, and the new her relished it. She drank every bit of cum, took every shot deep in her belly and ass, and kept smiling she hungry smile.

When they kicked her out she had the tattered remains of her skirt and her shoes left.\par

She walked to an intersection they flagged down a commuter.

She told her tale of distress. A switch seemed to click in her face, and her demeanor changed. She broke down completely.

The Police were called. Investigations ensued. All the men had left clear sperm samples in multiple locations. They went to jail.

Her triumphant smile only showed when no one was around.

With police victims aid, her life was turned around.

Back at school, on a Diving scholarship.

No more slutty black clothes.

(She was a good girl now.)

Jeans and t-shirts only, no skirts or dresses.

(Except she really wasn't... what about the NEW her?)

Excepting, of course, when she was in her cheer-leading uniform. A lot skimpier than the one she wore in high school.

She got hit on a lot.

She kept her distance. No one rang her bells.

Then her team went to the finals. And she heard the jokes. "The Ice Queen"...never flirted, never dated, never hooked up...

So she laid it out.

A dare. She liked dares.

If the team won the playoffs... they could fuck her.

All of them.

The motivation worked. They won.

She'd handcuffed herself to a shower head in the mens locker room.

Once the initial surprise had worn off, the team had fucked her till her legs gave out, then formed a line and were simply letting her drain their balls with her mouth. She was getting a jaw ache and a strong feeling of a full belly when the coach caught them. He roared at them in a voice like thunder, the outrage of a guardian, father and husband clear on his face. The team shrank away from him as if burned.

He looked down at her ravaged form, white trails of cum mixing with blood from tears in both vagina and anus. He noted the handcuffs, his rage rising. The he saw the key around her neck on it's dainty chain.

His face went... blank.

He uncuffed her, dragged her into his office.

Confronted her. He'd heard the rumors. He thought they were false, a cover story for something sinister. But he was not going to let her play this game and destroy the morale of his team. This ended now. She was off the squad, and hand better give him a good reason to to see her expelled.

She offered her best and tightest reason, torn and cum drenched tho it was. The war he fought with himself, seeing her across his desk with her pert butt cocked in the air and her gaping asshole winking at him, lasted but a moment, but was fiercely fought. His morals lost. His anger took hold, and he decided to punish her for her actions, show her the way to feel proper regret.

You can't rape they willing, as the saying goes, and they proved it. He drilled her ass with revenge in his heart, and she took it all and drank his hate like wine. Twice he spent himself in her, and while his fluids mingled with those of his players, he could look down and see the blood tracing delicate patterns along his dick. The thought of her young ass tearing even wider under the rending thrust of his cock was only superseded by his desire to see this little whore lick him clean. No matter how rough he was though, she responded in kind, bucking back against his thrusts, and gushing ejaculate all down his rumpled pants and shoes. When at last he forced her down to work his cock clean with her mouth, she mirrored his orgasm with her own, ruining the finish on his leather shoes with her gushing.

Sometime later the coaches wife would wonder why her husbands pants smelled like girl juice. Although she wouldn't know until years later, her revenge was assured.

As our hypnotic session ended, I realized that I had a lot of work cut out for me if I really wanted to be this girl's Master.

So, how do I address her desire to be used with force by gangs of men...safely.