Whore 94 Ch. 09

She enjoyed it? She enjoyed serving others? She enjoyed whoring for her master who took her money and prostituted her out like some kind of sex-slave? What kind of woman was she?

What kind of woman was I?

I felt... so relaxed... Lovely hot steam... Give me more steam... Mmmmmmm...

Why was I here? Why were any of us here?

I think I slept. I think I thought I dreamt I saw the CEO's face watching me through the steam...

Wait: I wasn't imagining it.

He was there.

It was him.

Watching me; sitting right over me.

"Hello Elizabeth."

Elizabeth. Yes. That was my name wasn't it? Not "whore". Not "94". No-one had called me Elizabeth all day.

I blinked myself awake and peered up at him in a state of bewilderment. Where was I? What on earth was he doing here?

"How are you?" He said. "Settling in? They're treating you well, I trust."

He smiled knowingly.

"There are a number of things to get used to at first," he went on. "It always takes time to adapt to a new role. Just be patient and stick at it. No-one ever got anywhere without a bit of hard work and determination to succeed. You do still want to succeed, don't you Elizabeth?"

I nodded. That was why I was here. Doing all this. To succeed. In the end I would be successful. And wealthy. Wouldn't I?

"Good girl," he said, rolling a shirt sleeve above the elbow.

What did he want? Why was he here?

"Listen, Elizabeth," he said, testing the water with his forefinger. "After talking to your boss - the CTO - about a few things, we have reached an agreement on how best to handle your, erm, transition, to your new role here at 'The Scrava'."

He pushed his forearm through the foamy surface water and straight down between my legs. Instinctively I pulled my legs together.

"Relax," he said easily. "Open for me."

One of his fingers probed my sex. I couldn't refuse him, could I? Not only had he made me his whore, he was paying me to be exactly that. Must open. For him. Anything for him. Just like Whore132 had said. There was nothing shameful about serving your master. Was he my master?

I spread my thighs for him... play with me... play with your whore...

He pushed a finger inside me and held it there. Despite the steam, I trembled on his fingers.

"We have decided to recruit a replacement for you, to take over your menial day-to-day chores at the company," he said.

I blinked at him. Replace me? God.

Why did his finger feel so good inside me? Such an important man. Taking the time out to play with me. I should feel privileged, shouldn't I? How many other whores did he take the time to play with?

"But..." I said nervously. "What then... what will I do... I mean... when I'm in the office?"

He smiled kindly, strangely.

"Oh come on, Elizabeth. I think you already know the answer to that, don't you?"

Yes. I did. Of course I did. Bastard. I would dance. I would perform. I would make coffee. I would be an office-slut. Like Laura. God no. Please no. Not me.

He pushed another finger inside me, and I couldn't help but twitch on him and let out a small moan... of pleasure?

"Look," he said, "Officially - as far as the paperwork is concerned - what we want to do is make your current position as senior PA to the CTO redundant - your replacement will take a more junior job-title."

Redundant? That would mean I would be out of a job though, wouldn't it? They wanted to get rid of me?

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," he said calmly. "You will sign a new contract with Mr. Khani when you pass your audition - you'll just be working for him rather than us. It's a convenient way to avoid various legal technicalities."

"I'm not sure..." I started.

He nudged my clitoris. Ran his fingers round it. Pressed it.

God. My body ached to have his penis inside me. Fuck me. Use me. Rape me again. Do me.

"Obviously we will throw in an incentive," he said. "A generous cash payment up front. Officially it will look like you accepted a redundancy package before deciding to take a position as a performer here at 'The Scrava'."

Boot heels. I could hear boot heels approaching. They could only belong to one person. My mistress. She was coming for me.

"OUT OF THE TUB, WHORE," she snapped no sooner had she arrived.

"Wow, that is some dress," the CEO remarked, admiring her. Playing with me, but looking at her. Don't look at her. Look at me.

He withdrew his arm and reached for a towel with which to dry himself.

"I said OUT," my mistress barked.

I stood hurriedly, dripping with hot soapy water. She marched around the tub and gave me a sharp crack on the buttocks with her riding-crop.

CRACK.

No. Not in front of him. Don't humiliate me in front of him.

"Dry yourself, whore" she commanded and tapped me firmly on the buttocks again. "Quickly."

I curtsied and stepped hurriedly out of the tub. How humiliating. Obeying another woman. In front of the man who had raped me. Obeying her for him.

I picked up a towel and started drying myself as quickly as I could.

CRACK.

"You didn't curtsey to your master," she admonished me.

I forgot. I forgot. Sorry. I'm sorry. I forgot.

I curtsied before the CEO, watching his shoes as I did so.

"You're very strict with her," the CEO observed.

"You have to be. It's like training a dog," she said callously.

The CEO reached for his brief-case and rifled through it.

"I need her to sign this," he said to my mistress. He wasn't talking to me anymore. Why not?

I draped my towel over a rack and stood naked before them. I was dry. Dry enough.

"Sign it, whore," she commanded.

What else could I do? Refuse to sign? What good would that have done?

SPANK.

I felt her riding-crop on my bottom again.

I had to sign it, didn't I? But what if Mr. Khani changed his mind about me? What if he decided he didn't need a new whore? How much would he pay me? What would the new contract be worth? Could I trust them? Did I have a choice?

"Curtsey, sign it, and thank your master for making you a whore."

I curtsied and signed the document. That was it. Redundant. Unemployed. Who cares? It's just a piece of paper. Meaningless. Irrelevant.

CRACK.

Bitch. Stop hitting me.

"Thank you for making me a whore," I said hurriedly and curtsied politely.

He looked through me. I was nothing to him. Nothing. Not even another deal. Just nothing.

"I will pass on the cash payment directly to your mistress to cover the cost of your training," he said nonchalantly.

The cost of my training? I was paying for this?

I nodded and curtsied. No choice. What's done is done. I don't have choices any more. Not down here.

"Excellent," he said, turning back to my mistress. "Glad we got that sorted. I'll bring her replacement over for a visit sometime soon - I trust you will make her available."

"Of course," my mistress answered.

Redundant. Replaced. Unemployed. Paying to be trained for an audition to be a whore. Paying to be made available to serve my replacement.

"Thank you, sir," I said feebly.

Thanking him for it. For all this. All that he had done for me. All that he had done to me.

"Curtsey, whore!" my mistress barked.

CRACK.

The next thing I remember I was down on my knees licking my mistress' arsehole. I lapped at her. I tasted her. I was paying her for this now, wasn't I? This was my training. This was what I was from now on.

"Better than the last one?" I heard the CEO ask.

"Yes, nice and submissive, exactly right. Good choice. No danger of her getting above herself." My mistress replied.

Lick her. Taste her. In front of the CEO. Show him what I have become.

"By the way," he said, "do you know what happened to the last one? – The last ninety-four I mean – where is she now?"

"She's hanging," my mistress said. "I was planning on introducing them to each other tomorrow. So she can see what happens to disobedient whores and hopefully learn something from it."

The CEO laughed loudly.

I kept licking attentively at my mistress's pucker hole. Probed her with my tongue, sucked on her anus. Paying her for it now.

"I need to fuck her arse before I go, if you don't mind," he said.

"Of course," she answered him. "Have it."

He pulled me up by the hair and bent me over a bench. He widened the entrance to my arse with his fingers and stuffed his cock inside me, pushing deeper and deeper... until it suddenly seemed to fit...

Ow. Ow. It hurt. It hurt so much. Too rough. Please be gentle with me...

BANG.

He thumped me.

BANG.

He pounded me.

BANG.

I sobbed. I spluttered. I cried out.

Him again. My rapist. Raping me again.

I was his arse-girl. His anal-whore. His bum-slut.

His? No. He had given me away. I wasn't his. Whose was I? Hers. I must be hers.

Warm jet of semen up my anal passage. Thanks. Thanks so much. Thank you sir. Thank you for doing this to me. Thank you. Bastard.

I knelt at his feet and sucked him clean. Tasted my own shit. My mistress clipped me on the buttocks with her riding-crop. Bitch. Bastard. My owners. My master and my mistress. Using me. Humiliating me.

I stood. I curtsied. I thanked him.

Used. I had been used. This was my life now.

God. My arsehole burned. Livid. On fire.

My mistress handed him a cigarette.

CRACK.

Her riding-crop on my bottom again.

I curtsied, sunk to my knees.

She lit his cigarette, then her own.

I opened my mouth, tilted my head back, and closed my eyes.

*

More eventually. Sorry they can't be more frequent. Special thanks to the Littleone.