Angel, Demons Pt. 04

So, when the plug's tip finally found her slippery anus, she tried to struggle out of the chair, protesting. But a remarkably strong arm held her down, profiting from the girl's awkward balance.

"Trust me, darling, we came so far. Don't let me down now; don't let yourself down," the woman said, panting as she went on forcing the slick plug past the yielding sphincter. "We can do this... it will be over soon... and it will be so good... mmmm, sweetheart... hold on and you'll be so much more... you'll be perfect... you'll be ideal.

"Oh god, I'll be so proud of you."

The words gained a sing-song quality, sliding into the soothing slot of hypnotic conditioning. But the pressure became incredible, slowly turning into a deep, throbbing pain.

The girl's feet started kicking on the rhythm of her high-pitched, bird-like squeals - her toes trying to reach the floor. She wrestled and writhed against the invader - and the woman holding her down.

"No... no... stop it... let me go... I can't... it..."

Her words were muffled by the chair, and garbled by the fear that blocked her breathing.

"Relax," the sing-song voice went on. "Open up, honey... let go... Mmmm, yes..."

Then, suddenly, the plug's widest girth slipped through, and the stretched, oiled ring closed around the tiny waist, glowing, tingling, leaving the black flange out like a fat, shining dot.

The girl didn't cry anymore, neither did she move. She hung limp, like a discarded raincoat, over the back of the chair - the only sign of life a deep, sobbing panting.

The woman had fallen upon her, murmuring unintelligible words as she softly slapped the tortured flesh, planting kisses on the sweat-soaked, salty skin.

"You did it, honey ass," she whispered. "You opened a new way to incredible pleasures."

The girl didn't respond.

The woman kissed her again and said:

"And now for your reward, my pretty slut."

Her hand slipped between the trembling thighs, finding the girl's drenched crotch, and her clit at the top of her cunt. When she touched it, the girl's body seemed to be hit by an electrical shock, making her limbs spasm in all directions.

"Incredible new pleasures," the woman repeated, making her rubber-clad finger press the hard morsel against the solid body of the plug inside. Rubbing it in circles, she extracted long, deep moans from the girl's throat.

The knuckles of the hands that gripped the old chair's edges turned white, and the feet started a whole new shuffle.

The woman's fingers pressed and rubbed, squashing the nub against the intruder. The girl kicked and jumped; her breathing raced into overdrive, punctured with sobs and hick-ups.

And then she came yet again, wailing - squirting waves of piss and juices over the woman's hand and the old, cracked leather of the very distinguished club chair.

***

A girl, primed.

She looked nervous.

She also looked touchingly young. There wasn't a trace of make-up on her face; her hair had been pulled back into a long, girly ponytail. She wore a white blouse, decently buttoned up, and a plaited navy blue skirt that flared high on her legs. On her feet were white bobby socks in navy-and-white sneakers.

They dangled, as she couldn't reach the floor.

The couch she sat on dwarfed her petite five-feet-plus frame and made her sink into a soft expanse of leather. Her hands tried to pull down her skirt, an effort at modesty that made the woman behind the big table smile.

It seemed, she thought, as if the childlike sweetness of her outfit rubbed off on the little slut's behavior, suggesting an aura of innocence.

The woman at the table wore an ankle-long coat of black kid leather. It hung open to show a lace corset, dark nylons and spike-heeled boots. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the blackness of her outfit. Her lazy purple lips hypnotized the girl - as did her emerald eyes.

"You look sweet today, honey," the woman said softly. She smiled as the girl blushed. "Almost innocent," she added.

"Now I told you we're having visitors today."

The woman's voice took on a brisker tone.

"Male visitors, no less, and they will help you become complete. They offered their assistance readily, so I expect you to be very hospitable with them - everywhere.

"Are you ready for that, honey ass?"

The girl swallowed. Then she nodded.

The woman had been over it all day, starting with repeated enemas in the morning, and oil-drenched exercises with the new, heavy plug. She'd worn it day and night now, for half a week - at the club as well as outside.

The woman wondered what she might have told her girlfriend. Did she even see her anymore?

She'd explained the scenario repeatedly. It was like rehearsing a play, and the choreography of an intricate ballet combined.

By constantly emphasizing the day's importance, she caused the girl's nervousness to rise with the hour. It was like working towards a play's premiere.

There were so many ways to fail.

"I really think you should say it out loud, darling," the woman in the leather coat said, adding a hint of iron to her voice. "The weight of the occasion deserves it, don't you agree?"

The girl with the dangling legs cleared her throat before saying: "Yes, Mistress, I'm ready."

The woman waited for more. Then she said: "Ready for what, girl? Say it."

The girl's eyes shifted; her hands fumbled in her lap.

"Ready to be fucked," she then said, hesitating at the rude verb like the girl she played would do. Her discomfort rose when the woman urged her on with a smile and an impatient hand.

"To, eh...," she said. "To be fucked in all my openings."

The woman's smile intensified, as did the encouraging movement of her fingers.

"In my, my mouth and my, my cunt and... and in my ass."

The last words rushed from the girl's lips. She looked almost relieved, and it surely wasn't all play. Actually, having things done to you seemed a lot easier than saying it and admitting you were part of it.

The woman at the table nodded, pursing her lips into a kiss before smiling a dazzling smile. Then she reached for the telephone in front of her and spoke a few words. She put the receiver down again and smiled once more at the girl.

"They're on their way up."

***

A girl, spooned.

As they waited in uneasy silence, the woman's mind wandered back to the moment the girl woke up, three days ago, ten hours after she'd passed out from her exhausting trial.

She remembered picking her up from the chair, cleaning her and treating the swellings of her ass hole. Then she'd put her to sleep in her huge bed.

She'd kissed her before leaving.

When she returned after midnight, the girl was still asleep. She took off her clothes and climbed into the bed, nudging her naked body into the girl's - spooning. Her warm, sweet, sleepy scent aroused her and she started kissing her neck and ear, whispering silly endearments.

She was rewarded by a long, drowsy moan.

They'd maybe slept for three more hours when the woman awoke from a stirring. She opened her eyes and looked straight into the girl's dark irises.

They were veiled by a haze of lingering sleep.

"Morning, little sweetheart," she whispered, holding on to the body, fearing the girl would jump and run - again. She might want to leave forever after the way she made her suffer. But she didn't.

"Mistress," was all she whispered, before snuggling her body closer into the woman's.

Sleep reclaimed them, and when the woman awoke next, the bed beside her was empty. Her roving hand found nothing but a cool stretch of desolation. She moaned her disappointment. Then she rose on one elbow, looking around into the grayness of early day.

There was nothing to be seen, so she slipped out and walked naked into the big living room.

Dawn's uncertain light just about outlined the girl's silhouette sitting on the rug before the huge hearth. The fire was banked, glowing mutely. Sitting on her naked butt, her arms were folded around her shins as her head rested on her knees.

She rocked gently.

The woman tiptoed towards her, sitting down behind her, so her legs were around the girl, her soft chest against her back. She pulled her closer, feeling her stiffen at first contact.

Then she shivered and went on rocking.

The woman pulled a handful of hair away from the side of the girl's face and pressed her cheek against it.

"Is something wrong, honey?" she whispered. The words caused another shiver.

"I'm scared," the girl said, her voice just a whisper too.

"I understand."

"You don't." There was quiet desperation in the words.

"I scared you," the woman admitted, hugging the girl tighter. "I should not have pushed you this hard, and without warning. I was greedy again and..."

"No!" the girl insisted, louder now. "It's not you - it's me that I'm scared of."

The woman leaned forward, trying to catch the girl's eyes, but she looked away.

"I...," she went on, "I'm scared how much I like this, need this, whatever you do to me. I'm scared how I accept your treatment, even when I often have doubts and think it's all crazy and I should run.

"It scares me how my body longs for the way you abuse it, while my mind screams I shouldn't. It scares me because it makes me feel... needed and I've never felt anything like that. Nobody ever needed me and it's... scary.

"It feels like... happiness, so of course it won't last. I'll lose my confidence. I always do, and I'll be... lost in the process.

"I'm a loser, you know that. I lose things. Your needing me scares me; I can't believe you do - that anyone does."

The woman kept rocking her as she licked the girl's earlobe. The words bewildered her. Her girls had never talked like this. It heaped a weight on her she'd never felt before.

"I understand, honey," she said, knowing she didn't.

There was silence. Then there were sobs.

"How could you?" the girl mumbled, her voice thick with tears. "How could anyone? All the people I needed abandoned me. My parents dumped me, my husband, my brother, my girlfriend ignores me... Everyone I tried to hang on to, left me behind, even my sister when she died."

She sobbed once again, then stopped.

"I'll never abandon you, honey," the woman said, talking into the girl's hair, inhaling her scent - hardly understanding the words her mouth produced. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to, you know?

"I'd be as lost as you are."

"I...," the girl said, fighting her tears. "I so want to believe that. My doubt shames me, but I can't help it.

"I'm scared - please hold me."

So, the woman held the girl she'd raped only hours before, forcing pain and humiliation upon her; exploiting her weaknesses. Degrading her out of selfish greed.

And the next morning the girl had not fled.

She never protested or complained. She only doubted herself; she doubted her right to what her body craved. It sent her through a private little hell for a woman who'd had no idea.

***

A girl, stripped.

Back in the now, there was a soft knock on the door.

The woman asked the girl to go and welcome their visitors with deep kisses, whoever they might be.

The girl slid off the couch and walked to the door, her short skirt flaring. Opening the door, she hesitated when she saw the three men waiting in the corridor.

One was blond and tanned like a surfer. Another was bald and black, with huge shoulders and a very white smile. The third man had dark hair; his olive skin betrayed a Mediterranean heritage, just like hers. All three had toned bodies, muscles filling out their T-shirts and jeans. Towering over the girl, they made her look even more petite than she already was.

Seconds of stunned silence went by.

Then the girl stepped forward. She rose on tiptoes and pressed every soft inch of her body into the tall frame of the blond stud. Her arms closed around his neck and she kissed him open-mouthed. Breathless, she then turned to the black man and kissed him for minutes too. When she at last kissed the third man, the other two crowding around her.

They smiled and chuckled and groped her through her blouse and under her skirt.

"Welcome, gentlemen," the woman in the black leather coat said with a smile.

She'd risen and walked around the table to meet her guests, standing tall on her boots' heels. "I think that is quite enough for now, please excuse my insatiable slut and come in."

The men took their time releasing the girl. Then they walked over to the couch where they sat down, trying to rearrange the front of their pants in a discrete way.

The girl still stood in the entrance, tidying her hair and blouse. The woman looked at her, smiling. Then she turned her attention to the men again.

"Thanks for clearing your busy agendas to help my little girl," she said. "Drinks anyone?"

The men declined the offer of drinks politely. They were no doubt interested in other treats after the warm welcome, the woman mused, smiling as she walked back to her seat.

"Now stand by me, girl, so the gentlemen can see your sweet body," she said, sitting down behind the table again. "Start with telling them who you are, honey."

The girl stood, nervously, feeling three sets of hungry eyes eating her up. The kissing and groping by total strangers must have aroused her, but now her tongue seemed tied.

"Ehm...," she began, hesitantly. Then she told them her name and age and started to give them information on more of her life's statistics, but the woman cut her off.

"I think the gentlemen would be more interested in why you asked them to come see you, honey," she said. The girl turned towards her, surprised that the invitation had been hers.

"I, ehm...," she said, toying with the hem of her skirt, eyes on the floor.

"It's easy, darling. Tell them what a slut you are," the woman offered in a loud voice. "How you crave cocks and want to be the best fuck in town."

After another nervous glance, the girl cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She was good, the woman thought, so perfectly natural.

Or were the nerves real?

"My Mistress is helping me to become her perfect slut," she began, her voice almost a whisper. "She wants the three of you to, eh, fuck me in all my openings today, my mouth, my... my cunt and my a-asshole - so I'll be... opened up.

"Only that way can I get to the next stage of my training as her eh, slave and, eh, slut."

The woman behind the table watched the trembling girl as she delivered her rehearsed little speech - adding a gauche, embarrassed sweetness that was totally hers, and totally endearing.

She smiled and turned her attention to the men - aware of the greediness in their eyes and the growing lumps in their crotches. They grinned and eyed each other, trying to hide their nervousness behind macho guffaws.

"Go, girl!" the blonde chuckled.

"That was a lovely speech, honey cunt," the woman said. Her hand ran slowly over the girl's back as they both looked at the three hunks on the sofa. "Now walk over to the blond gentleman on your left and ask him politely to remove your blouse."

The girl shot her a nervous, schoolgirl-like glance. It made the woman wonder how great a tease and an actress she was.

"Please, sir, take off my blouse," the girl said after she'd walked up to the blond guy.

Her voice seemed even younger, almost childlike and carrying a tremor. She stood with her hands folded at her back, shifting her weight left and right on her sneakers - like an awkward teenager.

"My pleasure," the guy said, starting to undo the buttons one by one. The starched white cotton slid off her shoulders, making a sighing noise when it fell to the floor.

It left the girl in her bra of simple white cotton.

"Thank you," she mumbled. Then she stepped back and crossed her arms behind her back again - waiting for instructions.

"Now ask the gentleman in the middle to undo your skirt, honey," the woman proceeded. "Ask nicely."

"Please, would you remove my skirt, sir?" the girl asked, walking up to the black man, next in line on the couch.

His fingers shot to the skirt's buttons and soon she stood in just her bra, her white cotton panties, bobby socks and sneakers.

Her blush made the woman smile.

"Thank you, sir," the girl said. She made half a curtsey before regaining her stance.

"You're welcome, honey," the black man said in a deep baritone voice. "Anytime." He smiled, but the growing tightness of his stylish pants contradicted his casual attitude.

"I'm sure the third gentleman would love to remove your bra, darling," the woman suggested. "Why don't you go ask him?"

The girl turned towards the third man, asking him softly to please take the garment off. It closed at the back, but he first cupped her cotton-clad breasts, kneading them.

His thumbs traced her nipples, lingering at the piercing.

The man asked her to raise her arms, so he could reach the clip at the back. He leaned in very close, his face almost touching her chest, his warm breath caressing her skin.

He smelled of cologne and a distant hint of garlic.

Soon the cups fell and the straps slid off her shoulders. Big male hands covered the naked skin of her exposed tits; dark, swelling nipples slid in and out between his groping fingers, making the lily flash.

"Such lovely titties," he said, smiling at the girl's wide eyes. She winced as he suddenly pulled at the jewel.

"That would be enough for now, sir," the woman cut in. "Please turn back to the center, honey."

The girl obeyed after thanking the man.

She was naked now but for her panties, white socks and girly sneakers. Her hands were on her ass, her shoulders pulled back to push out her chest, like she'd rehearsed.

She was very much aware of the growing damp spot at the center of her crotch, but a faint smile belied her deepening blush. She'd been naked around men, but right now, doing this pseudo-naïve striptease, things seemed different, more intensely arousing.

Maybe it was the teenage innocence of her clothes. It might also have been the way Mistress told her to ask the men to undress her, step by step.

Whatever it was, it had her gushing as she looked from one face to another.

"Please get that wet rag off your little ass, darling," the woman said, repeating herself as the girl seemed not to have heard her the first time.

She obeyed at once, peeling the soaked cotton off her sticky skin.

Lifting her leg, she felt the alien weight of the plug shift inside her anus. It embarrassed her that the men might see it; it also aroused her. It was like an extension of the control the woman had over her - making her feel at once safe and vulnerable in a strange and confusing way.

"Wow, honey, someone is wet today," the woman commented, making the men chuckle. The girl blushed fiercely, trying to smile as she stood straight again, the damp panties dangling from her hand.

"Walk over to the blond gentleman again, please darling, and allow him to smell the sweet arousal on your panties," the woman behind her went on. "I'm sure he'd love to know what a horny, leaking slut you are."

The girl walked over, her ass cheeks gingerly gyrating around the intruder. She handed her panties to the man.

He grabbed them and stuck his nose into the wet cotton, sniffing with exaggerated eagerness. Then he laughed, throwing it to the black man next to him, who rubbed his face in it. Their comments went from excited to raunchy. The blonde started to rub his swollen cock through his jeans, high fiving the Mediterranean man who'd draped the panties over his head.

The exposed girl just stood, hands on her back, an insecure smile on her face. Her mistress looked at the clowning guys.