The Debutante

Note: This story is a continuation of my story "Highway Exposure", but several chapters on. I am writing a novella and have several other chapters in the works. Eventually, once I have written enough, I will put it all together.

*

D. sat, comfortably ensconced in a wingback chair to the right of the fireplace. At his feet, a rather lovely slave leaned against his legs, running her long slender fingers softly along the inside of his leg up to his thigh. Dark hair, swept up severely from a fine brow and narrow face, large lustrous strands falling in artful disarray across one slender shoulder. Almond shaped eyes, tip tilted, lent an exotic air to the fine boned features, the only anomaly a pouting mobile mouth. A thick leather collar encircled the slender neck; narrow leather straps attached with silver rings swept down and cupped the full, plump breasts, their dark nipples stiff. A scrap of material cupped the underside of the heavy breasts, supporting their weight and offering them as if on a platter. A gauzy underskirt barely masked the voluptuous figure of the slave, the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs silkily obvious through its folds.

D. kept up a desultory conversation with the rather striking domme who sat in an identical chair to the left of the fire. Her tall spare figure was severely garbed in a long leather skirt, split to the thigh and her long lovely legs, encased to the thigh in supple leather boots with 4-inch stilettos rested on the lap of her sub, a stalwart lad with blond curls who rested a handsome head against his mistress's warm thigh. Absently, the domme would rub her foot against the bulge of the boy's leather clad groin and D. grinned inwardly as the boy's face would redden, then pale as his prick would stiffen and then squeezed in a steel cock ring, subside.

Glancing about the room casually, D. masked his inward amusement at the spectacle of his fellow devotees and their attendants. Settling himself more comfortably in the chair, an exact replica of one described in many of the novels about 22B Baker Street, he found it in himself to be grateful his sense of irony hadn't entirely deserted him.

As much as he loved the lifestyle he had adopted many years before, his strong sense of practicality and reality often intruded on the somewhat fanciful world he inhabited. While many adopted the trappings with ease, immersing themselves in fantasy, D.'s clear gaze was unable to entirely sublimate the absurdity of some of the outward manifestations.

The room was quite crowded as this, the second Saturday of each month always provided good entertainment as Damian usually introduced new submissives to the group as part of their training. Glancing about the room, D. noted that the numbers of doms and dommes were fairly evenly matched, with the edge perhaps in favour of the females. Male submissives and slaves, for some reason, were far more numerous than a true heterosexual submissive female and many doms searched for years before finding a compatible sub he wished to keep.

Outwardly, D. was calm, his mobile face serene, the green eyes relaxed. Inside, he felt remarkably nervous, his stomach churning. He knew S. was being introduced tonight and despite having seen her used by several others at this point, this would be the first truly public display of his possession and he was equal parts proud and apprehensive. That secret part of him that few knew existed caused him great anguish as he contemplated seeing his beloved S. fucked by other cocks. He had found out much about himself over the past several weeks, and had had to continually reassess his own limits and search deep within himself to ascertain what his true desires demanded. He was, at this point, having seen his darling flogged, spanked, used and abused, conversant with his real desires and that was that once her training was complete, he would take S. away. He realized, being painfully honest with himself, that he harboured real regrets over the course he had chosen – that had he know how difficult it would be to see her humiliated he might have chosen differently. Yet, an introspective man, painfully honest with himself, he recognized too that as much as it bothered him to see S. abused, that part of him that made him what he was relished it and found it immensely arousing.

The course was set and knowing that so many others were going to see his S. used definitely provided a fillip of excitement that he had been missing in his life. Putting his hand down, he tangled it in the dark curls of the slave, pulling slightly so that she sighed and hung her head. Leaning over, he cupped a heavy breast, contemplating its swelling richness with a rather absent air, then fingering the hard nipples felt his prick stir. Pressing the breast into his hand, the slave ran her hand up his thigh to cup the growing bulge. D. pinched the stiff nipple between his fingers, hard, then suddenly, with no warning, smacked it and admired the way the plump expanse jiggled, the mark of his hand livid against its pale flesh. Sighing, the slave merely leaned into his punishing fingers, her breath coming faster.

A stir at the front of the room distracted him, and dropping the plump breast, D. looked up. The ornate doors opened and the trainees entered, their keepers leading them by silver leads attached to the leather collars encircling their necks.

Ignoring the others, D.'s eyes fastened avidly on his darling. She looked, he thought relieved, quite marvellous. Tall and slender, her magnificent hair was pulled up in a complicated riot of curls, baring the long neck which looked obscenely vulnerable in its thick leather collar. Despite all that she had undergone in the past two weeks, S. stood tall and proud, resigned but unbroken, her shoulders squared and proud, the small plump breasts tip tilted, their long pink nipples stiff, thrown into relief by the fact that her arms were cuffed behind her. The long slender torso and narrow hips were naked except for a simple leather harness that encircled but bared those pretty breasts and clasped the narrow hips, straps running down to circle each thigh but leaving the smooth shaved pudendum open. Her marvellous long shapely legs with their taut thighs and swelling calves were one of S.'s best feature and showed to advantage in gartered pale stockings and knee length stiletto boots. The contrast of the boots and stockings against her nakedness was provocative and shocking and immensely arousing. Judging from the reactions, D. knew he wasn't the only one who found it captivating.

S. was most assuredly the most captivating trainee among the three that entered and for that D. was thankful.

As he watched, Lydia tugged at the lead, thus turning S. so that her back faced him. He felt his prick jerk and swell as he saw the marks of her flogging the night before clear upon the pale, delicate skin of her back. Long welts criss crossed the expanse of flesh in an expert pattern and grudgingly D. admitted to himself that Damian's hand with the whip was second to none. Not once did he see where the sting of the crop had struck twice.

The smooth, taut cheeks of S.'s bottom were crimson and narrowing his gaze, D. could see that there were even one or two drops of blood, a thin rivulet which trickled down the keep furrow between. He felt an avaricious desire to go to her and run his finger along that hot red ass, to put his finger to the thin trickle of blood and then sip its sweet nectar.

He became aware that the slave at his feet was rubbing his stiffening prick through the cloth of his pants. Pushing slightly into the expert fingers, he pulled back, then charged her to desist. Standing, he indicated the slave was to follow him and he began to make his way across the room.

****

As S. came into the room, she felt her heart beating frantically and wondered if whoever was there could see its throbbing beneath her chest . She prayed that outwardly her agitation was not obvious; she would be mortified if others saw her fear. Her eyes blindfolded, she stumbled slightly as Lydia guided her through the crowd, an experienced hand using the leash which was clipped to S.'s collar to guide her.

Beneath the blindfold, S. eyes moved frantically. She could hear voices and felt around her the crush of people, scents and voices mingling and confusing. Her other senses had become hyper aware when her vision was taken and she was astonished at how much she could surmise without her eyes. Without her vision, she couldn't know for certain but she felt, strongly, the room was crowded. She could feel the warmth from many bodies, while her hearing was acute and could make out the murmur of many voices over the low music.

The pale skin of her arms flinched as fingers trailed along her shoulder blade. S. steeled herself as the fingers came down and cupped her breast, squeezing and feeling the weight of that sweet morsel of flesh. She stood quietly as she had been told as yet another pair of hands seized the other breast, less gently than the one that now clasped and cupped her left breast. The new hands squeezed hard, making her stifle a groan as they cruelly twisted the small breast, seizing then pinching the nipple.

Then shockingly, she felt a hand probing between her legs, pushing a finger between the smooth, slippery lips and without any preliminaries, pushing up her tight passage. Behind she felt the warmth of another body and then the unmistakable feel of a moist prick rubbing between the taut cheeks of her ass.

Her breath quickened and she consciously worked at slowing her panting, forcing herself to try to relax as the stiff prick rubbed a dribbling head up and down the furrow of her buttocks. The other hand pushed several fingers up her cunt, rubbing the sides and pushing open the swollen folds almost painfully.

"Has she been fisted?" a male voice asked her, the owner of the fingers now rubbing the swollen folds of her cunt.

"No, sir," Lydia answered respectfully.

"Sir John said that was to be done in public for the first time. This one has a problem with public display."

S. stifled a scream as the hand twisting her breast suddenly smacked it. She felt the soft flesh quivering and a hot flush spread over her body.

Behind her she felt the owner of the stiff prick probing at the tight furled rose of her asshole. Unable to prevent herself, she clenched her buttocks.

"I thought you said she had anal training?" a voice asked.

"She has - but she still has to get used to others using her at will."

S. whimpered under her breath, her heart pounding as she heard her lover's voice. She yearned to throw herself into his arms, to have him caress her and hold her and tell her she was safe. But here she stood, a willing sacrificial lamb, an innocent to slaughter because to do less or different would mean that she would lose him. Despite what she had undergone in the past several days, S. would deal with that and more. What she could not deal with was a life without D in it, a life devoid then of hope and passion, empty of meaning or desire.

She sensed him beside her, the fine pale hair of her forearms rising as she sensed his beloved presence. She realized then that no matter what they did, no matter how they restrained her, treated her, she would tolerate all of it and more as long as he continued to desire her and want her and love her.

She felt his hands, so familiar, so beloved on her face, caressing the tight line of her jaw, running a finger gently along her nose and probing the small mouth. Gratefully, she licked the proffered finger, sucking it gently between her lips.

He laughed, gently then removing his hand, she felt him move behind her.

He pushed slightly in the small of her back. Obediently, she leaned forward slightly, feeling her buttocks flare out. Trembling, she felt him part the taut cheeks, his finger probing at the tight anus. Between her legs, a gush of fluid trickled from the swollen folds to snake a glistening trail down her thigh.

D. pushed a finger into the deep red folds, wetting his finger. Then back to the buttocks, pushing gently, insistently against the furled rose. Sighing, she surrendered, relaxing her clenched muscles and the probing finger sank to the first knuckle in the deep hole.

S. felt D. pull it out, then murmuring and she sensed him move away. Suddenly, harshly, the spongy head of a prick slipped the tip into her tight hole. Gasping, she involuntarily began to clench, then cried out as a hand smacked down on her cheek.

Hard hands grasped her hips and pulled them harshly back against a heavy groin, and she felt the unmistakable sponginess of a fat belly. Then, shockingly, a heavy prick pushed against her unprepared ass, pushing aside tight folds, causing tiny nicks which trailed minute trails of blood.

Breathing heavily, the man behind her pushed his stiff moist prick firmly, determined to sheath it in her tight fundament. His fingers dug into her narrow hips as he brutally thrust up into her, then began to push in and out, ignoring her moans, intent on fucking the tight ass as hard and as much as he chose. Precum, leaking from the tip of the heavy, invading prick thankfully began to provide a little lubrication.

Trembling, S. forced herself to stand as quietly as possible, exerting a tremendous sense of control; wanting to pull away, get away from the cock that was now violating her but wanting more to make D. proud of her – wanting him to know that no matter how she felt, she was doing this as he wanted her to – that she would take this rape and deal with it and not cry out or complain.

D. stood to one side, his face expressionless, and watched his beloved get roughly probed by a thick prick. Her small breasts jiggled and jumped as the heavy, florid faced dom behind her thrust his prick harshly in and out, relishing the feel of the tight passageway, liking the sensation of scraping that sent exquisite tremors into his throbbing prick. S.'s glorious red hair was pulled up and away from her slender neck which looked obscenely vulnerable circled as it was by the tooled leather collar. Snaking out from beneath the blindfold, D. saw glistening tracks as S. wept silently. His heart swelled as he saw her courage, proud of her and thankful she was so committed.

An introspective man, D. probed inwardly, trying to identify the emotions which threatened to break his usual stoicism. He realized ruefully that what he felt was a combination of pride, lust and possessiveness. He enjoyed watching his possession being used – that seeing her fucked roughly and thoroughly didn't bother him as much as he would like, but made his own prick throb.

S. gave a little moan as she felt fingers at her breast again. Her bottom was flaming, the entrance burning and sore and yet the prick still kept thrusting. A hand grabbed her breast roughly and cupping it firmly began to smack it rhytmically, timing the slaps to the thrusting of the prick into her violated hole. Despite herself, S. began to grow wet, her clit to swell.

Her world was black, made up of sensation and sound, the murmuring of voices in the room, the slapping of her ass against a hairy groin, the sweet crack of a hand against her soft breast and the swelling which began to gather, like a tide, deep within.

"Look at those nipples!" said the voice beside her, no doubt the owner of the slapping hand.

"Yes," she heard her beloved say. "Her nipples are quite extraordinary."

D. watched as his friend, Robert, continued slapping the soft breast. He admired the finger marks which showed lividly against the pale flesh, the nipples crimson and extended. Robert moved to the front and began to smack both breasts, relishing the jiggle and the pull but loving most of all the reddening flesh, the livid bruises which were already beginning to form.

S.'s delicate, pale Irish skin was ideal for this. D. had requested that no permanent marks be inflicted as he had a fondness for the smoothness of her lightly freckled white flesh but had agreed that it was quite provocative and enjoyable to see how well her body displayed the mark of the whip and the hand.

Behind, the dom's breathing quickened, his protruding belly shaking as he shoved his thick prick in and out of the impossibly narrow passage. Still not properly lubricated, the thick stem scraped against the sensitive sides of her anus, causing minute nicks and tiny pinpricks of blood.

D. looked and could see the big prick swelling even more, the heavy balls taut and drawn up into the hairy groin. He couldn't help but admit that the sight of the heavy stem thrusting into and out of that slender ass was enticing.

The dom's hand came down hard on the flexed buttock, smacking it painfully and despite herself, S. cried out. Grinning at the faces which were avidly watching their coupling, he smacked her already flushed ass again, this time with a harshness that immediately raised swollen welts. Despite herself, S. cried out.

Hearing her cry of pain, the man groaned and pulling the slender hips tight against him, thrust his prick as far up as he could manage. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward as much as he could over his own swollen belly and grunted as his prick swelled even more then began to spasm, spurting into the tight passageway.

S. felt hot jets of cum scalding her sore bottom. Painfully, but determined, she pushed her violated buttocks back against the man's groin, ensuring that all the sperm was emptied into her body. Breathing heavily, spasmodically, the dom thrust once, then twice, bringing a heavy hand down on her buttocks each time while Robert increased the intensity of his slaps against her small breasts. Shouting, the dom emptied his prick.

For a moment, panting heavily, the rapist leaned against the slender girl, his belly shaking as he tried to catch his breath. Then grinning as a few jokesters clapped, he pulled his shrinking prick from the tight anus, still dribbling sticky thick sperm which trailed a glistening trail against the crimson of her abused ass.

Without being asked, Lydia released S.'s lead, kneeling in front of the man, she took the reeking prick in her mouth where she carefully and thoroughly licked it clean, running an experienced tongue along its softening length and paying particular attention to the spongy tip. Absently, the dom scratched his belly while Lydia attended to him, and turning to his friend said, "She's a good tight fuck – want to try her?"

Grinning, his friend went over to where S. stood, legs trembling, ass crimson. Pushing her forward slightly, he pried apart the tight crimson buttocks and then poked a finger in the slightly gaping hole which dribbled sperm over his questing finger.

"I'm not fucking her up there until she's washed," he said laughing.

"I'm not a fan of sloppy seconds."

"But ...."

Grabbing S.' lead he jerked her around, almost causing her to fall off her pointed heels.

Tugging the lead harshly, he pulled her to her knees.

S. heard a zipper and obediently opened her mouth. A moment later, a long slender prick pushed into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag. Breathing through her nose, she regained her equilibrium and closing her lips around the stem began to suckle.

D. stood to one side and felt as if his prick was going to explode. He watched as S. obediently sucked the prick which was now thrusting in and out of her sweet mouth. Saliva wetted its pale length while from his vantage point, D. could see the long, wrinkled ball sac banging against her chin.

The owner of that prick tangled his hands in the red curls, grasping her ears and pulling her tight in and out against his groin. He particularly liked shoving the long prick straight down the back of her throat.

His breath quickened. The girl was good, he conceded, not once pulling away but accepting what he chose to mete out. Looking down he found it immensely provocative to watch the white stem of his prick disappear to his groin, in the small mouth, her red curls dishevelled, the eyes blind behind the black blindfold.