Suzette

Suzette flashed a smile at a couple of bellboys in the lobby. She arrived at their suite, looked around, went into the bathroom to touch up her lipstick – soft glistening pink that matched her nails and toes. Perfect. She turned to the left and the right, flattening her tight dress over her curves, smiling at her nipples visible through the satin.

It was time for Suzette to go down for her drink. It was one of those tasks Elizabeth liked to give her. Elizabeth assigned them because she knew it aroused Suzette to perform them. At the entry to the lounge bar, she spied the exact stool Elizabeth had picked out and sat in it, ordered a glass of Mondavi Chardonnay. Her legs uncrossed and crossed, she let her blue eyes scan the room. Her red satin pump dangled from her toe, her shiny thigh highs glistening in the low light of the lounge. A businessman came over and offered to buy her a drink; she declined. She watched his eyes rest on her hard nipples for a second as he turned away.

A woman appeared in the entry of the lounge, looking uncertainly both ways, and Suzette gave her a smiling sideways glance, then turned her face and gave her a more open smile. Safety in numbers, the woman obviously felt, and came over.

“This stool free?” she asked. Medium height, sleek grey business suit, mid-thigh skirt, red nails. The veneer of success. She ordered a glass of the house white. “I love your dress,” she said. “A hot date?” She turned, sipping her wine, letting her eyes finger Suzette’s body like an invisible hand. Suzette felt her nipples get harder. She couldn’t help it. Every since she had given herself to Elizabeth, Elizabeth had told her she must, simply must let her responses flourish, not to worry about controlling them, that it was her role, Elizabeth’s, to control them. That was why Suzette walked around, aching, throbbing, unable to get out of her system this hunger to be fucked. And when a woman like the woman next to her started to sniff around, she flushed with warmth.

They chatted for a bit, but tonight was not a night for other girls. Tonight was for Elizabeth. Suzette finished her wine, said good-bye to the girl with the long dark hair, and slipped out of the lounge, her ass moving rhythmically as she walked away on her red satin heels. She felt the girl’s eyes burn into her ass as she walked away. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught two men staring at her hard nipples showing through her dress. Her little bullets. Fuck. She could feel the hum in her cunt so strong. For how many years had she tried to freeze these responses out? Elizabeth had melted them, like hot wax, and now she felt the heat spreading through her. Whenever a man or a woman looked at her, and Suzette just had to make some subtly flirtatious gesture - touch her hair, open her purse to check her lipstick, or fix a strap on her shoe - she felt the surge, the surge of dark impulses now allowed into the light. It was so powerful, so intense, this ache, that if Elizabeth weren’t there to control it, Suzette would be terrified.

In the room, she walked to the window, smiled and waved at the bright lights on the Snow Princess.

There was a knock at the door.

Smiling, she opened it. Two of the hotel waiters smiled back, one pushing a trolley with stainless steel plate covers, and wine glasses, the other carrying a wine bucket.

“Miss Suzette?”

Such a simple question. It charmed her, the fact that they knew her name. It had obviously been arranged. Her cheeks coloured as they looked her over. She knew they couldn’t help it, men rarely could. Her nipples tingled, and her pussy ached as they watched her. She could feel their imaginations pressing her flesh, licking her with their tongues. She was so touched that her Mistress would send her this, and looked down the hall, half expecting Elizabeth to appear. She hardly paid any attention to the two young men in her anticipation, in her need to be fucked. Elizabeth hadn’t let her cum all day. Almost unthinkable for Suzette. It is the thing Elizabeth punished her for most often: cumming before Elizabeth wanted her to.

The two waiters walked past her pushing the cart to the window. They were young, tall, well-built from behind. She approached the table to lift the silver cover off the tray, knowing how lovely her legs looked in her red satin heels. She hoped the eyes on the boat were watching.

She looked up at the one waiter. Blood drained from her face. Her mouth went dry, and she looked at the other waiter. Same thing.

Frantically she looked out the window, breathing fast, panicked.

Then back at the two faces, now covered and hidden under stocking masks. Faceless.

One man roughly grabbed her by the forearms. The other closed his hand around her throat, tight.

She could barely breathe, let alone speak or cry out. The sound of her laboured breathing seemed so loud.

Their voices when they began to speak were low, muffled because of the stockings over their faces.

The taller man’s hand went quickly around her throat, so tight, she was not sure she could stay conscious. She started to struggle, kicked her legs out. Her eyes were bugging out, she was having trouble breathing. The shorter man turned on the television.

“We’ve been watching you,” he said.

“Yes. Three times we’ve watched you. We’ve timed how long it takes to get from that boat. We figure the fastest they can get here is about 40 minutes,” said the taller man.

“You put on quite a show, you hot slut. So we thought we’d help you this time.”

“Where’s the boat?” The taller man pointed out to the water.

Where was the boat? On the other side of the glass was just blackness.

“I was hoping everyone would watch.” The taller man pointed outside again. “I’m disappointed.”

Suzette’s eyes were wide with fear. She tried to shake her head, tried to force some sense into them. She looked out vainly into the darkness. Only a single light bobbed out there, someone’s yacht anchored, deserted.

“We’d better get to work. Enough talk.”

These were expert hands on her throat, releasing pressure slightly just when she was going to faint.

One rough hand came to the top of her dress, ripping it open. She grunted loudly, trying to scream. Her new dress! She was amazed how easily he ripped it, he was very strong, right off her chest and tugging it off her arms. Her pretty breasts, with their small hard brown nipples, shook as the two men swung her around. So fast. The hand still at her throat while the shorter man held her upper arms, fingers digging in.

She groaned, terrified. She thought she heard a knock at the door. Here eyes widened with hope. It might be Elizabeth. She looked to see if they were going to get it, but they didn't.

The short man tied a strip of her ripped dress tightly around her mouth. Then he reached down under her skirt, and roughly took her panties down, very roughly, hurting her skin as he did so. Tears fell from her eyes.

It was all happening too fast, her panties came off her feet, and he scrunched them into a ball.

She was so ashamed. they were wet, she couldn’t help it. She never could any more, she knew it. She had no control over her responses, her need; she was conditioned to be fucked. The fear, the lack of control, the danger, her helplessness: all this intensified it. She tasted her own juices when he stuffed the panties in her mouth, then tied her torn dress tight around her face so she couldn’t speak.

Finally, he released her throat. She could breathe freely, deep breaths in through her nose.

Quickly, quickly, he took his cock out of his pants. Her eyes bugged out again. It was so big. So thick. It couldn’t be real.

Roughly, he kicked her legs apart.

Still, the two men hadn’t spoken since the first exchange. As if they were reading each other’s minds. She was a ragdoll in their hands. Grunting and groaning under the stuffed mouth. Tears in her eyes again.

Then she heard another knock at the door, more insistent this time, but she couldn’t make any noise. Oh my god, she is thinking, it must be her Mistress, or someone on the boat phoned and they have sent someone. Someone, someone.

Quickly, too quickly, the big man moved between her legs, and then the world shifted. It wasn’t that time stopped. No. It was more as if time divided: for her thinking part, everything happened incredibly fast, bang bang bang like a machine gun; for her feeling part, everything slowed down, every millisecond setting off a different sensation. She could feel his cock at her wet cuntlips. She could feel the soft firm pink head sliding along her silky labia. She could feel the blood swelling her lips, pulsing. She could feel the secretion of juices from the mouth of her vagina. She could feel her clit tingle and start to harden. He pressed against her and she felt her wet channel parting like two pieces of wet silk, millimetre by millimetre opening and then closing around the hard shaft, the bulging head, the veined and ridged muscle of his cock. She was cursing herself for the way she was, those needs and responses she couldn't control.

But really it was quick, too quick, she knew it, his rough quick cock, pushing, thrusting, prying her open. Entering her. Ramming into her deeply. Easily. She was so fucking wet.

She felt her breath expelled as he plunged into her.

The taller man was holding her up, tight and hard, pushing her ass with his knee to meet the other man’s thrusts.

He was pounding hard, hard and fast, too fast, not caring for anything but his own fucking. Using her. God she was on fire. And still her body, in its own time warp, was feeling a zillion sensations on its time: the aching withdrawal of his thick cock, the emptiness that he left behind as her cuntwalls closed, the slippery escape of his glistening cock head, then as he thrust back in, the wet velvet of her cunt parting again, closing back over the rim of his crown, sensing each little ridge and vein. Fuck. Fuck.

Soon he was pumping too hard, lifting her up, slamming her, groaning and grunting himself. Then lunging, deep spasms, shooting his load inside her cunt.

She tensed. She needed to cum. She needed to cum, but he pulled out. She groaned. She felt his cum dripping down her leg.

He moved away, his wet thick cock dripping, hanging down as he reached his hands out.

And again, quickly, quickly, he roughly took her by the shoulder, released by his taller accomplice, and bent her over the arm of the big chair, pushing her face down hard into the seat of the chair. Her feet couldn't even touch the floor.

Then again, too quickly, damn, too quickly she felt another cock at her cunt. Driving deep into her. So fast she wanted to say please please please take your time not so fast I need to cum pleaasssssssseeeeeee!!!!! But the balled panties in her mouth muffled any sound.

She was so close.

Wet sounds were coming from her cum-filled cunt as the other cock filled her, ramming hard and deep and selfish. The strong arms held her face down hard on the chair seat, mashing her cheeks. This cock was shaped differently. A slight upturn, she could feel it as with each fraction of a second it slid deeper inside her, touching new parts of her, lifting her. She felt the current of arousal travelling up her spine to her head, and out along her limbs. She could feel every sensation.

Then the cock came out. She whimpered through the gag. Then it was at her ass. She was such a slut, she couldn’t help it. She pushed back, groaning. Wicked and nasty, pushing back. She wanted the cock to fill her. Fill her cunt, fill her ass. Anywhere.

Then she felt it, the searing heat of his cock wet with the cum from her cunt. Driving in past her tight ring, filling her ass, up into her stomach. Then pumping, pumping. She was almost limp now with use and ache.

Then she felt it, the roar of his groan as he emptied his seed into her ass, so deep.

Oh god... oh god god god... She thrashed her feet wildly and helplessly in the air.

She groaned again as she felt him pull out, her body limp, breathing ragged, trying to catch her breath.

Then again quickly, so fucking quickly she could hardly keep track of what was happening, their strong hands pulled her up and back, throwing her across the bed, then dragged her on her back so her head was hanging over the edge.

The taller man was on the bed pinning her thighs. The other was holding her shoulders, his huge cock above her eyes.

He ripped off her gag. She looked into his eyes, intense, hungry, intimidating eyes. How did he know she needed it. She didn’t scream. She opened her mouth. Before she could utter a word he filled her mouth with his cock, still wet from his earlier cum, pushing it in deep, making her gag, her eyes bugging out again.

But she was hungry now, and sucked. She closed her eyes, tonguing the shaft until it was completely hard. She knew her hips were humping the air where the other man was pinning her thighs. She couldn’t help it. She felt the cock in her mouth getting more and more rigid, starting to move, more selfish fucking of her mouth, using her as a toy. It almost drove her over the edge, taking her will away.

Then she felt it, the other cock, at her cunt. She pushed at it. He pulled back. God! Fuck me please! She screamed inside her throat, the cock in her mouth killing any sound. Then it rammed pussy, his cock sliding inside her, her legs spread wide, her knees now bending to pull him into her! Deep.

Immediately she came. She couldn't control it. God she couldn't control it. She knew she was this kind of creature, her Mistress knew it, she knew it and now these faceless men knew it.

Her orgasm twisted and stiffened her body, writhing her petite taut muscles in the light from the bedside lamp.

The cock in her mouth was still thrusting. Then she felt the thickening of his channel of cum along the length of his cock. The other cock was still pumping into her. She could barely stand it. She was over the edge.

She stiffened. She came again.

At the same time she felt the spasms starting in her mouth. She sucked. Sucked hard, moaning on the hard cock, opening her throat, felt it pumping. She swallowed, swallowed the white, hot cum down her throat.

She couldn't help herself, his cum in her mouth drove her over the edge again. She humped her hips up hard, the muscles of her athletic thighs tight and rigid around the other man’s hips.

Her tears fell from her eyes down the side of her face onto the bedspread under her. Then there were more groans as the tall man came in her cunt, ramming against her, lunging into the centre of her.

Then the big cock slipped quickly from her mouth, dragging cum across her cheek, the other cock from her cunt.

She couldn't move. She was helpless, drained, eyes closed. She could hardly catch her breath.

She was aware of rustling, the door of the room opening and closing. Dazed, she lay there. Her cum-drenched body was reddened and raw, cunt swollen, used. She shifted her hips again, lying on the edge of the bed, her fingers down at her cuntlips. God she needed to cum. Still. She couldn’t help it.

Through her daze the phone rang. She didn’t answer. She turned her eyes to look out the window; the boat had finally arrived, all lit up, windows ablaze. Suzette kept sliding her fingers inside her soaking, used cunt. A minute later the phone rang again, insistently.

She reached it. She couldn't even say hello, just dry soundless sobs, her breath catching, and then moans, more sobs.

She heard nothing on the other end. She finally gained some measure of control, stopped fucking herself and listened, just breathing hard.

“I love you, baby,” her Mistress said.

Suzette leaned back, the phone to her ear. Warmth flooded her, relief. Crying hard now. So taken, so used.

“Oh fuck. Fuck.” Suzette was still hoarse with caught breath. “Come and fuck me. Fuck me please.”

“Don't move, baby. I'll be there in a minute, and we'll have that champagne. You were beautiful. Just close the drapes. I’ll finish off what those boys started. You’re such a slut, aren’t you, baby."

Suzette breathed back hoarsely. “Yes, Mistress, you know I am. Your slut. Come quickly.” She hung up the phone.

Suzette stumbled to the window. The torn bit of dress hung in a ragged circle around her neck. Otherwise she was naked. Fingermarks were spread across her right breast.

She closed the drapes. Life with her Mistress was a flying carpet. She had to hang on tight, there was so much turbulence.