Open House: By Appointment Only

"Good choice," Blake nodded approvingly, just as I heard the distant chime of a doorbell. "Splendid!" he said. "They've arrived. Let's go down, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, he took my elbow and guided me down the stairs to the entryway – a slow and difficult journey for me, teetering in impossibly high stilettos. The stiff plug in my ass shifted with every step, and while I found the sensation uncomfortable, it was also slightly arousing. Andrew reached the door first, opening it to admit a group of men. He and Blake greeted each in turn, acting as if everything were perfectly normal. Their guests, too, took my unusual appearance in stride. Although they cast more than a few appraising glances my way, none of them seemed shocked by my scanty outfit – or by the chains confining my hands to my sides. If anything, they appeared pleased.

"Kate," Blake commanded. "Go into the kitchen and get some drinks for our guests." With a sigh of resignation, I did as he asked. The cupboards containing the glassware were well out of reach, as was the wine rack, but after a bit of a struggle, I managed to wrestle the refrigerator door open and retrieve a six-pack of beer. By the time I returned to the entryway, the men had moved on to another room. Seeing my chance, I dropped the beer and scrambled for the door. The knob turned easily in my hand, but the door itself would not budge. Frantic, I tugged at the stubborn door, willing it to yield. Only then did I notice the deadbolt mounted high on the doorframe – well out of reach of my imprisoned hands, though I scrabbled vainly for it.

"Well, now. Isn't this a surprise," Blake drawled behind me. My heart leapt into my throat as I whirled to face him. "And after you promised to be good, too. I guess we'll just have to show you what happens when you disobey." With that, he withdrew three small, flat objects from his pocket. One contained a single button, the others a dial and a thumb switch. "Now let me see… Which of these should I use?" he mused, toying with them. Suddenly, he turned the dial – and my knees nearly gave out from the intense buzzing that filled my pussy.

"Oh, my God!" I squealed, leaning against the closed door for support. Several of the men, hearing my outburst, wandered back into the foyer. They fanned out behind Blake, curiosity and interest evident in their eyes.

"Whoops! Wrong remote." Blake laughed. "That one's to reward you for being good!" With an evil grin, he turned off the dial, then depressed the button on another remote. All at once, pain like I had never felt before exploded between my legs. My already-weak knees buckled, spilling me onto the tile, and I screamed in anguish. The pain stopped as abruptly as it began, leaving me gasping and shuddering on the floor.

"Good Lord!" One of the newcomers exclaimed, looking slightly disturbed. "What did you do to her?"

Looking highly pleased with himself, Blake handed the gentleman the remote control and flipped up my skirt, exposing the straps underneath. "I've modified the receiver from a dog-training collar," he explained. "A simple push of the button and she receives a jolt of… correction… in a very sensitive spot."

"Brilliant!" the man replied. "Swift, effective – and no marks left behind. You'll have to make one of these for me!"

"Of course," Blake promised. "I'd be delighted. Now, shall we proceed?" Smiling, he ushered his guests back into the billiards room, leaving Andrew with me.

"Well, that was pretty stupid, wasn't it?" Andrew asked, gripping my elbow and pulling me roughly to my feet. "We've already told you that you can't escape. The only way you're getting out of here is by doing exactly as you're told. Continued defiance will only bring additional punishment. Now come on." With that, he jerked my arm and half-dragged me, stumbling, after the others.

The next few hours passed in a sort of blur. Andrew and Blake took turns manning the bar while their guests chatted, played pool, and watched a basketball game on the big-screen TV. Although I was kept busy trotting around the room, delivering food and drinks on a large tray precariously gripped in my chained hands, I overheard snatches of conversation that revealed much about Blake's success in an otherwise slow real estate market.

"…so they're six months behind on their payments, and foreclosure is imminent…"

"…just lost his job… no way he can continue making the payments on that place!"

"…pick it up for the balance owed… "

"I can get you 4.5% on that, over 30 years…"

"If you can score that 3-bedroom on Grove, I have a potential buyer…"

"…I've got some sweet condominiums I could show you. You can easily rent them out for less than the monthly payments Carl can set up for you…"

As I made my rounds, the conspiracy began to take shape. Bob and Carl, as employees of major mortgage lenders, were able to give Blake a heads-up whenever a promising property was about to go into foreclosure. He could then swoop in and offer to purchase the property for the balance owed on the note, preserving the credit rating of the former owner but walking away with whatever equity they had in the property. Andrew and his friends were investors. They would purchase the properties cheaply (with low interest rates and monthly payments courtesy of Bob and Carl) and either flip them or hold them until the market recovered. While I was repulsed by their callous opportunism, a small part of me also admired their ruthless ingenuity.

Every so often, one of the men would pinch my exposed nipples or slide his hand under my skirt, stroking my ass or slipping a fingertip into the strap between my thighs. At first, I jerked away from the intrusive groping – but after a few "corrections" I learned to bear them stoically. The most humiliating part was the casualness with which the men touched me – not with lust or passion, but as if I were merely a toy for their amusement. A toy to idly fidget with while watching the game. The only rest I was permitted was when one of the men would order me to sit on his lap for a few minutes. My aching feet welcomed these brief respites, even though each was invariably accompanied by unwelcome caresses. A few of the men lifted their glasses to my lips and ordered me to sample their drinks – then laughed when I coughed and sputtered, unaccustomed to strong whiskey or scotch. It wasn't long before my ears began to buzz and I felt the warm lassitude of inebriation spreading through my limbs. Every so often, one of the vibrators would rumble to life, making me gasp and moan – to the great amusement of whoever was standing closest to me. Several of the guests began to shout out guesses as to which vibrator had been turned on, while others clamored for both to be used at once.

Although I hated being so publicly used – and against my will – the powerful vibrations were doing their job. Even the spaces between – filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation – heightened my arousal. There was no pattern that I could discern, no regular interval between bouts of stimulation, nor even a system of alternation between pussy and ass. At some point I realized that Blake had handed the controls to his guests, and that they were passing them back and forth, taking turns with me. By the time the ballgame ended amidst shouted cheers and curses, I was trembling, weak-kneed, and very, very wet. My entire body burned with need – but the damnable vibrators provided just enough stimulation to keep me at a fever pitch, without offering release.

I was, therefore, only dimly aware that several of the men had placed wagers on the outcome of the game. Money changed hands between a few of the guests, then one of them turned to Blake.

"Ok, your turn now. Pay up," he said, holding out his hand.

"She's all yours, Jim." Blake replied, pushing me toward the victor and handing him the single-button remote control.

"Wait… No!" I protested weakly, stumbling against the man, but both acted as if they hadn't heard me.

"On your knees, girl." Jim ordered. When I didn't obey quickly enough, he mashed the button on the remote, sending that searing pain arcing through me again. Gasping, I collapsed to the floor at his feet. "That's better!" he said. "Now, make yourself useful…" Before I could ask what it was he wanted me to do, he unzipped his trousers and brought out his stiff cock. My eyes darted nervously around the room – surely he couldn't expect me to blow him in front of everyone? But it appeared that was exactly what he wanted.

"Go on… Get started!" he barked, shoving his dick into my face. I grimaced at the sticky trail of fluid it left across my lips and cheek, yet knew I had little choice. I could try to resist him for a while, but sooner or later he would force me to submit. At least cooperating would spare me further torment. So, reluctantly, I struggled to my knees and accepted him into my mouth. I tried to control him with my lips and tongue, preventing him from penetrating too deeply, but he refused to accept half-measures. Instead, he clenched his fists in my hair and pulled me toward him, filling my mouth and throat. Gagging, I strained backward, frantic to escape – but his grip was firm. Though tears streamed from my eyes and I struggled for breath, he thrust mercilessly, repeatedly into me. After what seemed an eternity, he pulled me close and held me there, nose squashed against his groin, his penis pulsing in the back of my throat.

"Swallow, bitch." His grip tightened on my hair. I wanted to obey, if only to avoid further punishment, but could not choke the bitter fluid down. Instead, it dribbled from the corners of my mouth, spilling over his thighs and my exposed breasts. Angry, he pressed the button on the remote again, making me scream around his cock – though only a muffled whimper escaped the fleshy gag. As the pain died away, it was replaced by another sensation: rippling waves of pleasure from the two vibrators, both of which started purring away inside me. My hips rocked involuntarily, seeking to intensify the contact – though it was still, maddeningly, not quite enough to make me cum.

"Hey. Let someone else have a turn," a voice said. Through watering eyes, I saw that the rest of the men had gathered in a semi-circle around us. A few had already freed their own cocks from their pants and were stroking them lightly. Several had removed their shirts as well. The shrinking penis was removed from my lips and replaced with the hard mouth of a bottle.

"Here. Have another drink," someone suggested, grasping my chin and tilting the bottle. I choked and sputtered as the fiery liquor overflowed my mouth and trickled down the sides of my face. It felt like I was drowning. I swallowed convulsively, the alcohol burning its way to my stomach. Once. Twice. Three times I forced myself to swallow, though my body struggled to reject it. Finally, the bottle was withdrawn and I was able to catch my breath. At least the taste of semen had been washed away.

"I don't think we need these anymore," Blake said, unlocking the cuffs around my wrists. Still on my knees, I raised my freed hands and stared at them blearily, trying to comprehend what they meant. The angry red welts that encircled my wrists fascinated me: souvenirs of the cuffs. They didn't hurt, exactly – but they looked as if they should. A tiny part of my brain screamed at me to run, to fight. With the use of my hands restored, I would be able to open the door. Perhaps to escape. But I had learned the folly in that – surely, I reasoned, they would not have released me if there was really a chance that I might get away. Besides, I was no longer certain that my legs would bear my weight. The heavy fog of intoxication was taking me. Everything – the men, the house, even the persistent throbbing of the vibrators – seemed unreal, almost as if it were happening to someone else and I was merely an observer. I was, therefore, only distantly aware of hands fumbling beneath my skirt, the snick of padlocks opening, or a slackening of the strap between my thighs. It was not until someone's fingers dug into my pussy to retrieve the vibrator that I realized what was happening. By then, it was gone – as was the plug in my ass – leaving me with a vague sense of loss, but also relieved that no further punishment would be inflicted on my throbbing clit. Strong hands gripped my arms and half-carried me to a leather sofa, draping me over the back of it. Only then, feeling the breeze from an open window on my exposed private parts, did I realize what else the removal of those straps signified. I was open for use.

And use me they did. Someone (I couldn't see who) stepped up behind me and fumbled between my legs, positioning himself before thrusting deeply into me. "Ooof!" I grunted, the breath driven from my lungs, as he pounded me over and over into the padded back of the sofa. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing my breasts and rolling the stiff nipples between his fingers. And though I hated myself for it, I found my body responding to his thrusts, rising to meet them, the delightful friction igniting a fire within my belly. I tried to fight the rising passion, but moans of pleasure betrayed me, to the great amusement of my captors.

"Hey… I think she's going to cum!" someone announced, making me burn with shame.

"No, she's not quite ready yet."

"Ten bucks says I can make that bitch cum."

"You're on. Anyone else think he's got what it takes?"

"Fuck yeah. Twenty bucks says I can do it!"

"Ok, but let's make it fair. Bob, you've had your turn. Give someone else a shot, ok?"

"Goddammit… Alright…" grumbled the man behind me – Bob – as he pulled out, leaving me gasping like a stranded fish.

"So… Let's say five minutes? That's about how long Bob had." Blake suggested. "Everyone gets to have a go at her for five minutes, with a five minute break between to let her cool down a bit. First guy to make her cum takes the pot. We'll draw numbers to see who goes first." I heard murmurs of assent, and a stack of cash was piled on the coffee table in front of me. Somehow, the sight of the money made it even worse – I felt like a whore.

"What if nobody wins?" Bob inquired.

"Then I guess she gets to keep the money!" Blake laughed, swatting my upturned ass. I winced from the unexpected blow, though it didn't really hurt very much – just a sharp sting, followed by a not-unpleasant sensation of warmth. "So… First one up is… Carl!"

"Alright, Carl! Go get her, dude!" someone cheered as a skinny man mounted me from behind. He wasn't nearly as large as Bob, so he slipped in easily. Too easily, really – between the alcohol and the earlier assaults on my pussy, I felt slightly numbed. The rapid strokes of Carl's small cock went almost unnoticed, though from the way he grunted and groaned behind me, it was clear that he was enjoying himself. I was suddenly struck by the mental image of a small dog humping someone's leg – a chihuahua with Carl's face – and snorted with undignified laughter.

"Bitch! You think that's funny?" Carl snarled, jerking my head back by the hair.

"No… I'm sorry…" I gasped. "I'm just so… fucking drunk…" Indeed, the room seemed to be spinning, and I caught sporadic flashes of light from the corners of my watering eyes.

"Four minutes," Blake warned.

Carl pounded into me with renewed savagery – but his mood had been broken and I felt his cock shrinking inside me. Finally, Blake called time and he withdrew, hastily zipping his pants.

"Next!" Blake announced after the requisite five-minute break.

Funny, I thought, how five minutes could be so excruciatingly long – or over so quickly. This realization was hammered home, again and again, as each man attempted to win the wager. The breaks in between seemed so short that the men ran together - one long blur of pounding cocks and pinched nipples, sweaty hands squeezing my ass and breasts, fingering my clit, lips and teeth on the back of my neck. I moaned and trembled beneath them, floating on an alcohol-soaked haze but pinned solidly to the earth by each cock that pierced me. I clung desperately to the last shreds of my dignity, vowing that I would not give them the satisfaction of making me cum. And I almost succeeded. Almost.

Andrew was the last to take me. By then, my body burned at a fever pitch. The intervening breaks proved insufficient to cool my ardor, so when I felt his penis exploring the entrance to my pussy, I found myself arching to meet him. To engulf him. Though I willed my body to be still, I could not prevent my hips from rocking against the leather. For a long moment, he hesitated, poised on the verge of penetration. Then, when I could bear the anticipation no longer, he impaled me with one swift thrust. Despite the earlier assaults, my eyes widened and I opened my mouth in a silent scream when he slammed into me, stretching me almost to the point of pain. Again and again, that monster cock filled me, until my very heartbeat seemed to pulse to his slow rhythm. Frantic mewling sounds escaped me, though I scarcely recognized the voice as my own. With an inarticulate cry, I collapsed into the arms that gripped me tightly from behind, my pussy pulsing and throbbing around him.

"And… time!" called Blake. "Way to go, dude."

Smirking, Andrew pulled his still-hard prick out of my dripping cunt and strutted around to collect his winnings. Then, he turned toward me and shoved his cock into my face, smearing my own lubrication over my lips and cheeks.

"Go on," he urged. "Finish me off." Too weak to resist, I opened my mouth and slowly licked the shaft of his penis. Impatient, he grabbed my hair and pulled me toward him, pushing past my lips and into my mouth, filling me completely. Strangled moans emerged, but I could not draw sufficient breath to speak or scream. Moving slowly, lazily, he began to fuck my mouth and throat, nearly strangling me with each stroke. I felt someone enter me from behind, but could not see who it was – all I saw were the taut muscles of Andrew's stomach, glistening under a sheen of perspiration. I was struggling now for air, snatching breaths greedily between thrusts, fighting the rising darkness that threatened to overtake me. With great effort, I raised my eyes to meet his, silently pleading for mercy – but the cold contempt mirrored there showed me how futile such pleas were. All I could do was endure the endless assault, until at last he buried himself in me, pressing his groin against my face. My lungs burned as I struggled for breath, but he was unrelenting. I could do nothing but swallow convulsively, fearing that I would drown in the hot gouts of semen that filled my throat. Through the fog that swept over me, I was dimly aware of the man behind me spattering my ass and thighs with cum. When he had finished, I felt a rough towel wipe away the goo before another took his place. And then, mercifully, I fainted.

I don't know how long I was unconscious. A minute? An hour? It felt like I was swimming up from a great depth – as if I had been out for a very long time – yet nothing had changed. A cock was pistoning in and out of my aching pussy, while another filled my mouth. Not Andrew's, I noted dully. The belly that flexed before my eyes was paler than his. Hairier. The man in front of me climaxed with loud grunting sounds, and I watched with dull fascination as ropy strands of semen dribbled from my slack-jawed mouth and pooled on the leather. The entire scenario seemed so unreal – it was hard to imagine that any of this could be happening to me. Surely it must all be a bad dream? Yet I could not seem to awaken from it.