Here I Go Again!

Author's Note: My last story was written just for fun, and was entirely fictional. Now it's back to reality, and my reality has changed a lot. My husband is now aware of my "indiscretions," and has taken an active role in my handling, along with his father, who was a former lover. Thinking back over the last couple of years or so, I'm reminded of how this all started, and amazed at the complexity of my whirlwind progression from semi-faithful wife (c'mon, no one's perfect!) to complete slut. It's been a dizzying ride, and yet, I've loved every minute of every sexy escapade. I hope there are many more to come.

Wow, I'm just in full 'slut mode' all the time anymore! Gary, my husband, and Dan, my father-in-law, have kept me pretty confined lately. Most of this is Gary's idea; he likes to keep me naked at home, away from my computer, and awaiting whatever he decides he or one of his clients needs, sexually. He has made me a whore. Gary makes a big deal out of telling the 'lovers' he brings to me that they will have to pay to be with me, but that once that happens, I can be made to do anything, provided they doesn't leave a permanent mark on me. Naturally,this opens up a lot of sexual avenues, and I've been bound, beaten, flogged, choked, gang-fucked, penetrated with all manner of things, and forced to perform a wide variety of degrading acts.

Oh! Did I mention that I love this? My friend and former SexMistress, Susan, diagnosed me long ago as a sexual submissive. I'm the type of slut who gets off on being degraded and humiliated. Discovering this through Susan opened me up to a lot of experiences, some of which fall far outside Literotica's guidelines of "moral decency." She also advanced the idea to both me and my husband that since I act like a whore, I should be treated like one. This is one of the few suggestions that Gary ever accepted from Susan, whom he thinks of as a 'bad influence' on me. So now he brings home work associates, friends, and sometimes complete strangers, to fuck me, but only after they pay. Go figure!

It doesn't matter to me. I love sex. Good sex is great. Bad sex is usually enough. Pain and humiliation can make it even better. Nowadays I'm up for most anything, as long as the end result is the same. Lately, Gary and Dan have enjoyed either forcing, or withholding, my orgasms from me. Again, Susan's idea, though they don't like to admit it. The result is to build up such sexual tension that I'll do just about anything to satisfy it. That's why we're out here today. Dan has taken one other suggestion from Susan. He has forced me to down two and a half quarts of lemon water before we left my apartment, and I need to pee. Badly. This urge only heightens the sensations between my legs.

I make eye contact with every guy I see, and most of the women. I need to get fucked. I'm selective, but only to a point. I like pretty girls, preferably my age or younger, but I'm attracted to just about every man I see. Some of my most pleasurable experiences have been at the hands of men that most 'normal' girls would shun. These men, though, either humiliated me in just the right way or they knew how to bring me pleasure through pain, or they were just so disgusting that, for my own perverse reasons, they the thought of having to submit to them drove me wild with desire.

Like this guy, for instance.

"Dan?," I ask. The man stares openly at me as he passes. He's overweight, he has a week's growth of stubble, and his clothes smell. I assume he's a homeless person. And I'm attracted to him. I'm dressed for my day of slutty free-fun in a pair of extremely tight orange shorts, black ankle-high boots, and a black Slipknot t-shirt, cut off just below the level of my breasts. Dan tells me I look like a Hooters girl gone way-bad! When the wind blows, anyone can see the swell of my breasts, and more than one person has seen one or both of my nipples today.

Dan yanks hard on the six-foot leash he holds, and the collar tightens around my neck, pulling me off-balance. I swallow hard. Dan doesn't speak, but I know he's not satisfied with that one. I keep looking, smiling at a lot of people and feeling a little shiver of pleasure at every lusty leer or degrading comment I get.

"You ARE a dirty little slut, aren't you?" Dan's voice is at my ear. He's priming me. I know it, but I respond all the same.

"I am."

"You'd fuck any one of these losers, wouldn't you? Suck any cock dry? Go down on one of these girls?"

"Yes," I admit, then add, "If you tell me to." I'm damp between my legs. My shorts will be showing it soon. I'm not allowed to wear panties, nor any kind of shields. Gary likes the shape of my cunt lips to show through my shorts. Camel-toes, he calls them, or "hiding the yo-yo." The tight material pulls at me as I walk, making my need to urinate even stronger. Sometimes I can cum if I cross one foot in front of the other as I walk, like a runway model, but today it only reminds me of my over-full bladder.

"Dan, I've gotta pee," I whisper urgently, knowing what his response will be.

"You know the drill, Toy. In your pants or take 'em off. Your choice."

His voice is smug. He'll laugh at me if I wet my pants, and then I'll have to wear them for hours afterward. I'm looking for a place to go. There's a little park up ahead, and I pick up my pace, pulling at my leash like a dog, eager to relieve myself.

"Easy," Dan warns, and yanks again. "You'll just have to hold it until we get there."

When we get to the park, Dan yanks me toward the street and away from the cover of the trees.

"Not here," he says. "I don't like the looks of this place."

I plead, but I know he won't relent. It's part of my degradation; my training in submissiveness, so I let it go. A little pee leaks down my thigh. So close, and now I have to hold it even longer! I glance down, and my shorts show a dark wet spot. I feel my embarrassment and my level of lust go up, hand in hand.

As we pass a parking lot, Dan says, "Here," and releases the clasp at my collar. I wend my way between cars, scanning the lot for other people. There's no place I won't be seen, but I can't hold it any longer. Taking one last glance around, I yank my shorts down over my hips and down my thighs. As I step out of the shorts, I'm already leaking little droplets, and when I kick them to one side my bladder really lets go, flooding my thighs and my boots with a clear steady stream of urine. I spread my legs and let it flow.

"Look, that girl's peeing!"

It's Dan's voice, and when I glance his way, he's pointing. People are looking, and I'm ashamed. I can feel my face turn scarlet, and I can feel something else; I'm aroused, even more than before.

By the time I gather up my shorts, four or five men and one woman have moved to where they can see me clearly. I try to smile; to act like it's only a natural act for me, but my red face gives me away. The woman says, "That's disgusting," and I want to run and hide, but I pull my shorts up over my damp legs and return to Dan, and my leash. He laughs as he snaps the clasp shut.

"That WAS disgusting," he says, as he leads me away. "Good girl."

I'm hornier than ever now. I would take Dan's cock in my mouth, right there on the street if he ordered me to, but he doesn't. He wants me to simmer in my own sexual stew.

Finally, I'm yanked to a stop, and I hear the words I want to hear.

"She is cute, isn't she?"

Dan has turned, and is speaking to a couple of joggers, a man and a woman. They just passed us, and have now stopped, looking from Dan to me. I saw the look in the man's eye as he ran past me, but it seems the woman is even more interested. She stares openly at me. Her face is pretty, her body thin and muscular, her posture somehow feral. She reminds me of a cheetah. I think I'm to be her prey, rather than his.

The man is all business.

"How much?" he asks without hesitation, and Dan glances back at me.

"What makes you think she's for sale?" he says to the man. The woman is already walking back to me, her eyes on the damp spot between my legs.

"Are you excited, or did you piss yourself?" she asks me, in a thick German accent, and while Dan and the man haggle over me, she captures me with her deep blue eyes. I mutter a response.

"Both."

She laughs then, her voice a husky chuckle rather than a delicate giggle, and I think, "She's a dominant." I recognize it in the way she looks at me. I think sometimes that people like her can sense my weakness. Though I'm almost six inches taller than her, I can feel myself going into submissive mode. Now I can't meet her eyes. My pussy spasms; a spontaneous tightening in response to the sensations I feel, and I recognize it for what it is. I truly enjoy being dominated.

"Toy!"

Dan calls me to him, and hands the man the end of my leash. He says, very loudly, "She's worth every bit of two hundred dollars, but I'll let you have her for twenty. But only for an hour, and I have to be there." There are quite a few people within earshot.

He makes a big show of taking the twenty the man pulls from his belly bag, and I can see that people are watching us; watching this man and this woman purchase a cheap whore, right on their street. I'm in a hurry to go, but not for the reason you might assume. No, I'm in a sexual near-frenzy now, knowing that I'm finally going to get fucked. I want to feel this stranger's cock buried deep inside me; to submit to whatever she wants to do to me. I don't care how they do it.

It's a long ten-minute walk to their apartment, and an even longer wait for Gerda, the woman, to shower and change once we get there. We wait in the living room, Robert and Dan and I, and Robert asks me a lot of questions. Do I enjoy being a whore? Why is a pretty girl like me so cheap? How long have I been doing this? Just what WILL I do for money?

My ears are buzzing. I can't concentrate enough to answer, and he and Dan end up chatting and laughing together. They're becoming friends, and all I want to do is relieve my pent-up sexual energy. I'm squirming in my place on his sofa, my pussy pulsing and throbbing.

Finally Gerda shows herself, and I'm surprised. I'd half-expected fishnet stockings and a leather corset, but she's dressed casually, in black capris and a halter top. Her long blonde hair is pulled over one shoulder, and she looks striking. Her breasts are full under the thin material of her top, and her nipples are obviously erect. She sits down next to me and puts her hand on my thigh.

"Such a pretty thing," she says huskily, then kisses me, suddenly. I open my mouth when I feel her tongue at my lips, and she forces it deep into my mouth, moaning as she pushes me back into the sofa cushion. We kiss for a few minutes, her breath becoming gasps and grunts as she gets more and more aggressive. Soon she's straddling me, her hands pushing my shirt up over my head and closing over my breasts. "Pretty, pretty," she murmurs, watching my face as she circles my nipples with her thumbs and forefingers, then she squeezes them, hard. I yelp, my abdomen rising and falling, the pain fueling my lust. I'm getting wetter and hornier by the second, and she pinches me even harder.

I gasp,"Oh, God," and she laughs. She runs her hands up under my arms, forcing them upward, and someone takes my wrists. I look up, and it's Robert. He's standing behind the sofa, watching my face with a maniacal smile on his own. He holds me tightly as Gerda leans over and bites my left nipple, and I cry out. Everyone laughs.

"Hold her. Don't let her go." Gerda continues to pinch and bite me, from my neck to my belly. Finally she stands up and pulls her hair back into a tight ponytail, watching me as she slips a scrunchee off her wrist and around her hair. Then she says, "I fuck you now."

I wait, holding my breath as she slips the capris down over her slim hips. She wears no panties. Her pubic hair is thick and dark, trailing in a thin line from just below her navel to a forest covering most of her lower abdomen. I can hear Robert above me, his breath quickening. His hands tighten on my wrists. Gerda steps out of her pants and reaches behind her. She pulls the halter top apart in the back, leaving it dangling from her neck, her big breasts swaying as she walks to a cabinet beside the television. From it she retrieves a strap-on dildo that looks to be as thick as a coke can. It's bright pink and close to a foot long. I glance at Dan. He's watching Gerda belt the dildo around her hips, fascinated. Robert laughs from above me and tells me I'm going to be sorry now.

Gerda walks to me, the big pink phallus swaying before her threateningly, and drops to her knees between my feet. Her hands slide up my thighs, then go to the waistband of my shorts. I raise my ass as she tugs them off me and down over the tops of my boots. She kneels on them, trapping my ankles, and roughly forces my thighs apart. Then she spits on my pussy, a big gob of mucous that runs down my labia. That's my lubricant.

It doesn't matter. My pussy is leaking, flowing onto the sofa beneath me. When Gerda stands over me and enters me with one rough thrust, I'm ready. Her hands grip my waist and she picks me up, holding me at a height that allows her to penetrate me as fully as she can. I try to help, supporting myself with my legs as she thrusts and thrusts. I can feel the flared head of the dildo thudding against my cervix, and it's uncomfortable, but I've been fucked by large men before, and I grit my teeth and endure the pounding. I can feel the pleasure beginning.

She's brutal, grunting loudly and making sure each thrust is more powerful than the last. In spite of the abuse, or because of it, I feel myself nearing an orgasm, and soon I'm crying out, inciting her lust. I'm so close, the pain and the domination only urging me on. My cries push her to new levels of abuse.

"Fucking! Cunt!" she grunts, glaring at me. "God! Damned! Whore!"

With each curse she pounds into me, until I slide over that cliff and throw my head back against the sofa cushion and surrender myself over to the mind-bending, body-convulsing climax that overtakes me.

"Ogod-ogod-ogod-ogod....ohhhhh, GODDDDD!"

My tortured clit has triggered an explosion inside me like the sudden eruption of a volcano. My juices are a human flood of pleasure. And then there's another eruption, right behind it. I writhe and buck, unable to support myself any more. Gerda slows her movements, finally, and I know without looking at her that she's pissed. She wanted to hear me cry out in pain, not pleasure, and beg her to stop.

I don't want her to stop.

She pulls from me suddenly. "Turn around," she orders, and Robert releases my wrists. I push myself up from the cushion, aware of the stickiness between my legs and hoping it's not blood, and climb onto the sofa on my knees, my hands gripping the cushion at the top. My ankles are still bound by my shorts and boots. Robert is undressing. I barely have time to turn my head toward her before she moves into me, entering me again.

This time she's angry, and lets me know it. Her hands are like iron claws at my hips, pulling me back and forth as she tears into me. My sopping cunt is getting sore, and I begin to beg, pleading with her to stop, she's hurting me, I'm sorry. She laughs, but she slows her pace, grinding the big cock against my deepest places.

"You don't like it now, do you?" she asks cruelly. "I thought not."

Suddenly I'm forced onto my face against the cushion, and Gerda is flat against me. She gasps, and I feel her full weight, pressing me down. And something else. Robert is behind her. I can hear his cock in the sloppy depths of her pussy, and feel the motion of his thrusts, through her. Gerda's hands grasp at my shoulders and collarbone, and her big breasts flatten against my back. She groans loudly, like an animal in rut, cursing. Then she moves her hands to my neck, and suddenly she's choking me, squeezing my throat with her fingers as he fucks her from behind.

I cough, and try to crane my neck upward, but she only tightens her grip. She's incredibly strong, and I can feel the veins in my face throbbing. I can't cry out. Where is Dan? I can't even turn my head, and the sofa cushion is dark against my eyes. The pounding continues, raking my face against the material.

As my consciousness fades, my only sensation is of rocking, as if in a boat. Robert is stroking away, and it's like being pushed by rhythmic waves, forward and back. I can't feel my body.

****************

"Toy?"

I'm on my back. I open my eyes, and Dan is leaning over me. I look to one side, and I can see Gerda and Robert behind him, watching me. Gerda's still naked, but holding her clothes in her arms. I watch her look of concern turn to relief.

"She's okay," she says, nodding at me. "Tough little whore, eh?" Then they turn and leave the room. I can hear her laughter as a door closes.

"C'mon, let's get you up." Dan seems nervous; unusual for him. He's been in lots of scary situations, as a cop and as a private detective, and he's usually the picture of calm, but right now I feel his nervousness. I know we need to move, but my body is refusing.

Dan understands. Taking one arm, he leans over and pulls it over his shoulder, lifting me. The sensation of being upright makes my stomach lurch, almost as though I'd been drugged. I know the effects of rohypnol, though. Been there, done that! This is disorienting in a different way.

It takes a few minutes to get me dressed, and by now I'm feeling better. My throat is sore, inside and out, and my face is red from being forced against the cushions. My pussy feels like hell, but I can walk, and we head for the door. As we leave I can hear the sounds of their sex. He's laughing this time, and she's doing the begging.

Out on the street, Dan clicks the leash onto my collar again.

"Let's see what else we can get you into," is all he says.