Payment In Kind: Final Installment

She was like a little girl again looking eagerly out of the car window as it sped through the countryside. Everything looked so new and fresh, so green and alive. For three weeks she had been kept in the house submitting to the sexual whims of her many visitors, and many there had been. She had no idea of the total number of strangers who had used her body, only that after the first day, which seemed so long ago now, she had accepted her fate without thought. Charlie had descended into a drunken shadow of his former self. He could not accept things as they were, knowing that he was responsible. It was about the third week that her ice calm acceptance had cracked.

She had been especially active most of the day and was lying on the bed exhausted. She had drifted off to sleep for a short while and when she woke up, still lying there on top of the foul smelling, stained sheets, it was dark. Charlie hadn't come up as he usually did to run her bath. Forcing her eyes to stay open she had gone naked down the stairs to find him lying there on the floor snoring in a deep and drunken coma. The coffee table, the one they had bought back from their holiday in Wales, was lying on its side where it had tipped over, spilling the full ashtray and nearly empty whisky bottle onto the carpet. The room smelt of stale tobacco, stale drink and stale sweat. At first she had just looked at him and then slowly her anger began to build, the first genuine emotion she had experience for sixteen days.

'You…pig', she muttered, 'you dirty, filthy, drunken pig. Look at you. Look at yourself. You stupid, stupid man…' As she spoke dormant emotions began to return as she felt the beginning of rippling spasms invade then vanquish her muscle control. The real world, at first only dimly hinted at, suddenly and without warning flooded her mind, memories she had buried deep into the darkest reaches of her being became solid, tangible thoughts. Anger built quickly into rage as her tired, aching, body discovered the energy of hatred.

'What the fuck have you got to be drunk about. Oh yes I say fuck now Charlie boy, and cunt and bugger, and cock. Not like the little woman you knew a few weeks ago am I Charlie boy?" her sarcasm was heavy and her growing contempt palpable. "It's funny what you can learn on a crash course of whoredom isn't it Charlie? Do you want to hear more? Do you want to know what I've been doing Charlie? ANSWER ME YOU CUNTING BASTARD! You want to know what I've been drinking, want to know how many cocks I've had up my cunt, up my arse, in my mouth. Do you Charlie do you?' Her rage was changing. It was growing into hysteria. 'What do you think I was doing Charlie? Playing fucking monopoly? While you drank your stupid, pathetic self into a sodding stupor.' She was now pacing the room looking at the man on the floor, trembling violently.

'And do you know what Charlie? They think I'm good. ME! The woman who only did it straight or not at all. The housewife and homemaker. Well you should see her now, bouncing between the cocks of two men as they use her for their sexual fantasy. Or three men Charlie, all at the fucking same time. And once Charlie, you know what? I even managed to fit two men up my cunt at once." She half laughed, half choked as her self control deteriorated even further. "How about that hey? hey? Fucking good hey?' Her body was now perspiring heavily, she couldn't focus properly she could only see inwards, into the life she had led for three weeks. 'And there's another thing Charlie, I know what hog-tied is and a dentist's brace and the Catholic horse…

I know a lot of things Charlie', her contempt, rage and hysteria grew to breaking point "I know all about fisting, oh yes I know all about that alright and here's the funny thing Charlie boy the longer it went on the more I got used to it. Funny Charlie? Too bastard right it's funny because the more I got used to it the more I fucking liked it. I liked the whippings and the buggerings and the fuckings and the suckings. I liked everything they did to me. Not only liked it Charles, I CUNTING CRAVED IT…craved it…craved it…', as the realisation hit home her voice dropped almost to a whisper, tears began to form, 'I fucking craved it…and I've got you to thank…' her voice was no longer audible. She dropped to her knees next to her husband, put her head in her hands and let the new knowledge consume her. Then. "Aaaaagggghhhh!!", the scream was primeval, the scream came from her most inner self and the scream continued long after she had picked up the heavy glass ashtray and began smashing it into bone, cracking it against gristle and breaking it against teeth. It continued long after her husband died.

But that had been last week. Whoever controlled her life now had organised everything. All she had to do was to keep entertaining the visitors. She felt no sense of loss over Charles, no remorse and certainly no guilt. She felt…nothing. Her life had now taken a different path. The car passed through villages and she looked longingly at the shops wishing she could stop the car and go into one of them, if only for a moment, just knowing she could buy something if she wanted. But she was taken on towards her destination.

She knew that with Charles's death the debt was technically cleared but she also knew that she was now willingly embarking on a trip from which she may never return. She smiled to herself as they drove between two large wrought iron gates into what she thought was a park. 'A trip from which she may never return', she thought, 'what kind of melodrama was that?' She knew that the men who had guarded her this last week had sensed the change and she knew that reports had been delivered to whomever they reported to. She realised she was fast becoming an asset. As they drove on a bit further she noticed they weren't in a park at all, but somebody's estate, somebody's very large estate. Her curiosity began to grow and when the house came into view it grew even larger. It was everything she had ever seen in the pages of Vogue or Majesty or Town and Country. It was huge. The car pulled into a circular gravel driveway and finally came to a halt at the bottom of wide, stone steps leading up to a solid looking pair of stud covered doors.

There was no welcoming committee like there would have been if this were a film. No line of servants bowing and curtsying deferentially as she passed disdainfully by. No, there was just the walk up the steps, the wait whilst someone from inside came to open the door and the sense of being almost hustled into the building. She had grown almost fond of the two men who had looked after her since Charles' death, and it was with a mild shock and a sense of abandonment when she realised that they were going over to a half opened door whilst two strangers had taken up positions on either side of her and were leading her down a long carpeted corridor. That was the last she saw of her guardians for four days. Only a very select few had any contact with her. And those few had a job to do.

The next time anyone saw her she was a woman who, although still retaining an underlying look of innocence, had the practised poise of someone who would largely be unaffected by whatever she would be asked to experience. They brought her, naked, into the small but luxurious cinema and led her to her reserved seat. As she sank into the soft coverings she saw that there were six other members of the audience, for audience is what she assumed they were. But to her there was nothing to hide any more. The lights dimmed and then went out leaving the chamber in darkness. The screen flickered into life showing a swarthy, fit looking man dressed in an Arab djellabyia,, a long, flowing robe reaching to his ankles. She could see that the jewels on the man's fingers and on his clothing and around his neck hanging from two or three chains were real. And she accepted it. She accepted the display of enormous wealth. The man began to speak. His soft hypnotic tones reached into her and seduced her as she realised he was talking about her, about her training and about her value. He went on to describe her body and her temperament and finally he described at length her physical features. She knew now the man was making a promotions film, a film in which she was the product. She had no feelings about the matter but just sat there watching the screen.

The man disappeared from view and a new scene took his place. She recognised herself. Chained naked facing a wall in what appeared to be a dank dungeon from an early horror movie. She remembered that dungeon and as the whip lashed for the first time on her naked back she remembered the pain. The screen her screeched out the agony she felt and struggled against the bonds that tied her tightly to the iron ring embedded into the stone wall. The whip lashed down a second time. She saw the screen her dance the dance of the tormented as the fire of the lash scorched deeply into her flesh. A third time and the screen her slumped against her bonds no longer able to hold on to consciousness. She looked at the screen dispassionately but with a growing feeling of eroticism. She relived the pain but she also relived the feeling of total, wanton, submission. The screen her came to very slowly. The audience in the viewing room was now totally silent. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating. The lash fell a fourth time on the back of the screen her adding another welt to those already visible. She remembered her body in pain and she remembered her body responding to that pain. A hand from an unseen man sitting next to her reached over and began gently squeezing and kneading her left breast. She sighed as she felt her body begin to melt to the inevitable. And as the lash fell for the fifth and sixth time she half closed her eyes remembering her lubricating juices flooding out of her vagina before she had once again slumped into oblivion.

As the screen dimmed and then lightened again showing a different scene, a different room, the man on her right reached and took her other breast in his hand. His mouth covered her hardening nipple and gently chewed on the swelling flesh. She moaned and watched through hooded eyes as the screen her was placed in a kneeling position in a room which appeared to be furnished from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with large, soft pads. A man entered carrying a wide leather belt with two large dildos dangling from it. The screen her offered no resistance as the man inserted them into her cunt and arse, and she offered no resistance when he secured her hands behind her back. In the viewing room the real her was moaning softly as the hands and the mouth caressed her body. Legs were prised apart and fingers reached down to a throbbing vagina.

She gasped in perfect timing with the screen her. She looked and saw a small digital clock displayed in the top right hand corner of the screen and as the screen her began to moan and gasp the clock began to count the seconds. She remembered and by remembering brought the real her further into heat. Her labia softened and puffed gently, her juices began flowing faster and her breasts ached and pulsed under the continuing caresses. The real her had now slid down into her seat with her head almost at the base of the backrest, but she could still see the screen. And on the screen the woman who was her was reaching a shattering climax. The clock displayed three minutes, and the real her knew there was a long time to go. Her view was blocked as a third man stood in front of her. The sound of unzipping and the feel of cock in her mouth thrusting towards her throat. The pause, the gathering of muscle and then the swallow as she took the flesh of him into her gullet, working her throat. As her real body was being brought to climax the screen her was keening like a strangled kitten as yet another orgasm reached its peak.

The throat of the real her in the viewing room was swamped with the man's spunk as he spurted and spurted into her, the throat of the screen her was hoarse from the cries and screeches of ecstasy. The real her reached her first climax whilst the screen her reached her tenth. Her view was clear again and she saw the digital clock had moved on forty-five minutes. And she knew they were watching a time lapse film. She knew because she remembered. There were many hours to go yet. The audience were all breathing heavily as they watched the sexual marathon of the screen her. They too noticed the occasional jump forward in the time. But they didn't need that to show them the hours that had past.

The screen her was now an animal. Lines of lust were etched deep into her skin. Hair plastered to her scalp, saliva running in a stream, from her gaping mouth to hang in fragile strings of moisture to her breasts. Those breasts swollen to bursting point the nipples impossibly elongated and hard. The screen her rolled constantly around on the floor experiencing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. The real her was led to the side of the seating area where the men satisfied their lust on the real her while watching the sexual torment of the screen her. The world was becoming confusing. Who was the real her? Who was the screen her? Was there a real her…?

Then she was released and led back to her seat, the sperm of many men covering her body, her lips, her face. Inside the real her sperm left the body in large white globules to run down her thighs. The screen her was now nothing but an orgasmic, jerking, thrashing puppet. The clock said five hours. The screen went dark.

A slight pause then a different scene and a new her. Time had passed. No clock showed on the screen but the screen her was clean, freshly bathed and newly rested. The real her knew what was to follow and she smiled. Almost before the audience could settle down to watch the screen her, she was already masturbating herself in the darkness, gently rubbing her clitoris feeling the response to her own caresses. The screen her was tied lengthways face down over a wooden bench like contraption with a raised centrepiece that fitted against her stomach raising her buttocks high into the air. Her head had been pulled down almost to floor level and a padded hoop had been fastened around the back of her neck and to the contraption. The real her remembered again the close view she had had of the floor.

And the real her remembered the sounds.

The men who sat either side left her alone. The entire audience sat transfixed as they watched the screen her and listened to the sounds of passion coming from the real her. The real her watched herself lying there and knew that the screen her had been ignorant of what was about to happen. She remembered the screen her lying, waiting, and she remembered the screen her hearing the door open. The real her gasped at what she saw, even in her mounting passion, as she masturbated more furiously. The screen her heard nothing but the sound of claws on stone. The real her watched in a state of sexual frenzy as she orgasmed. The screen her saw nothing but heard the soft sound of whining and felt the mounting and the claws on her back and then the entry. The real her saw the animal, the screen her heard it. The real her gasped out her climax as she watched the bestial coupling, the screen her felt it. The union was quick. The screen her lay there panting loudly, unable to move, the real her continued to rub and pull at her labia and clitoris as she knew that the screen her could only hear the sound of other, larger, claws on stone…

The film was over, the audience had left. She was in her bedroom thinking about the following day. She was under no illusions. She knew that she had become involved in a massive world-wide organisation. An organisation that had incredible wealth. And she knew too that the film was to be her sales video for potential customers to view her, and, if they liked what they saw, to buy her. One other thing she knew was that, in the morning, she was leaving England and being flown to an island off the coast of West Africa. Beyond those small tit-bits of knowledge she knew nothing.

As she got into bed and snuggled down between the soft, luxurious satin sheets, she smiled to herself. With her newly discovered sexual obsession she had no fear of what the future would bring. She thought she could cope… She slept…