Seven

The slave crawled into the room on hands and knees, eyes respectfully down. The cold wood floors against her bare skin made her shiver. Her mouth was already longing to serve her Master. She entered the room in which he sits awaiting her arrival. He wore a red and black silk robe that blends into the ruby red upholstered chair. He smokes a cigar without expression on his face, but he is pleased with what he sees. They have an understanding, she does not speak unless spoken to, she does not make eye contact unless instructed to, and she is there only to serve only as a playtoy for his needs.

The slave approaches her Master and stops at the side of his chair. She sits upright on the floor next to him. He pets her long red curls, scooping them up in his hand and letting them bounce as they return to their place. Her beauty is exquisite, but he must not let that consume his thoughts. She is only an object, a pretty one, but one for his pleasure.

He spoke in his deep commanding tone, "Tonight, my dear, you are stripped of your name, and shall respond only to the number seven. I take your name and your dignity. Remember your place and we will have an enjoyable evening. Forget your manners and there will be punishment beyond your comprehension."

She trembled in response to these instructions and responded with a meek, "Yes, sir." A smile grew across his face as he realizes that tonight may just be the one he has always fantasized about. He silently wonders if perhaps some fantasies are better left to the imagination.

"Seven, remove your clothing," he said in a whisper that sounded as forceful as a scream. She stood up slowly, without sound, and let the hunter green chemise fall to the ground. This left her in only the matching thong and black leather lace-up stilettos. As she removed the remaining articles of clothing, she felt her nakedness replaced only by the red hue in her cheeks as embarrassment set in. Although her body was flawless- a perfect hourglass figure, 38 D breasts, and hips wide enough to support her perky bubble butt- she still felt ashamed of her exposed sex. She could no longer hide her excitement, for her large nipples stood erect with anticipation.

"Get back on your knees," Master said as he pushed her to the floor. His actions are quick, to catch her off guard. She fumbles to her knees and is not fast enough to prepare for his next actions. He grabs her ginger locks firmly in his right hand and guides her head towards his already hard cock. She takes a deep breath and opens wide, glad to have her mouth filled with Master's member. Although she has been pleasing Master for some time now, she is still surprised at how big he is, and even more alarmed at how he is still growing bigger inside her. She is a very good cocksucker and enjoys every moment of her art of giving. But Master has something different in mind tonight.

He whistles once as he fucks her mouth, not giving her the pleasure of controlling his orgasm. She is but an object, not someone who can take credit for getting him off. The slave can barely breathe while he rapes her mouth; she begins to understand that something is different tonight. Why did Master whistle?

Master slows his pace to ensure that he does not finish too quickly. He knows his alone time with her is almost up. The whistle was a five minute signal. She is completely consumed in task, trying so hard to please her Master, and trying even harder to not let her teeth get in the way that she doesn't notice the men in black face masks walk in and surround her. Then her Master removes himself from her hole and speaks.

"Hello, my friends and welcome to my home. As guests of my house I insist that you make yourselves comfortable, and use anything you want," he pauses and turns towards the slave. "Seven, you were given a number that is comparable to the number of dicks you will suck tonight." For a second time this evening his words make her shudder, although this time she is filled with excitement. The slave has always wanted to please Master and his friends.

Master steps away from his pet and joins in the circle of his friends that surrounds his slave. His penis is still out and erect and he begins to stroke it with his own hands. He gives a nod encouraging his friends to do the same. A moment later the room is filled with seven cocks being tugged by its owner. Master notices the confused look on his beauty's face and chuckles.

"Seven, wipe that longing look off your face. You have already had the honor of sucking me some tonight. Now you will be used merely as something pretty to jerk off to."

The slave gasped! She felt her cheeks again grow bright red with embarrassment. Was she to just sit there and watch as these men touched themselves in front of her? She longed for each of them to have a turn in her mouth. It will be torture to just watch and not participate. She looked over to her Master.

He saw the glance that meant she had something to say and he encouraged her, "You may speak, Seven."

Relieved with permission to use her voice she protested, "But sir, must I really just watch and not help with my mouth?" At that very moment the big football player type friend let out a grunt as he came all over the slave's backside. She felt the warm sticky goo slide down her behind. She felt disgusting. Violated. Mortified.

Master laughed and said, "And you were worried you would be just watching." Over the next few minutes each of the men took their turn at covering the pretty slave with their semen. She was not enjoying this event, as she again longed for her Master's cock to be in her mouth. It was torture to have seven cocks within reach and not be allowed to suck any of them.

When they had all finished Master thanked them for their help and excused them from his chambers. The slave had lost track of who had cum on her and didn't realize that her Master had yet to orgasm this evening. He leaned over to her and handed her a towel.

"Slut. You have six other men's semen all over you. Wipe yourself off whore, and prepare yourself for your Master's cock."

She did as instructed. The slave used the towel as best she could to remove the fluids off her body. She was glad that Master could not see that her own fluids were dripping down her legs. She shouldn't be turned on by these events! Once she was all cleaned off, Master picked her up and laid her over his bed. He positioned her body so that she was face up head hanging slightly off the bed. He bound her wrists and ankles to the bed so that she could not fight what was to come.

"You wanted my dick in your mouth? Get ready to have your face fucked hard, slut." Master positioned himself to the perfect height and began to fill his slave's mouth. He pushed harder so that her throat was choked by his cock. She coughed, and tried to push him away. Not so deep, she thought. But she realized she had no control. Her arms were immobile. She could not protest. She started to feel the loss of oxygen; he was so far inside her throat that she was not getting air to her lungs. The room was growing darker and tears streamed down her face. He thrust himself again, long and hard, giving her time to regain some consciousness, but only enough to hear her cries muffled again by his dick. This process need only go on for another minute before Master approached his climax. He pulled out of her mouth allowing the fluid to cover her face and hair.

Exhausted, dirty, and wetter than she ever was before, she fell asleep in her Master's arms knowing that she served him well, longing for her own sweet release which she planned on as soon as she was alone, and grateful that she didn't have to face a fate as terrible as this too often.