Anne-Marie - Forced to Whore Pt. 05

This will make more sense if you have read previous chapters.

...

I didn't sleep much during the night. I sobbed whenever I thought of my predicament. My 400 days of slavery to Mr. Croker had not yet officially started and he already modified my body and now I realised, my mind.

At one level, knowing that Dr. Lau had been brainwashing me in the hypnotherapy sessions at least explained all the unwanted images of sexual degeneracy and degradation that had been flooding my mind. I felt released from the guilt of imagining myself selling myself and being used by men and women in the most brutal, demeaning scenarios.

At another level, knowing this was of no help. If I had been conditioned to imagine such things, conditioned to be aroused by phrases such as "Good girl', 'Daddy's whore' and 'Dirty fucking slut' I had been truly broken. Possibly broken beyond repair. Was I even me any more if Mr. Croker had such control over me?

I became determined to resist. I wasn't going to go to any further sessions with Dr. Lau and if Mr. Croker returned in three days to fuck me, I would fight the conditioning. I'd make it as if he was raping a sack of potatoes. I was determined not to respond.

For the next two days I didn't leave my room at the spa. I didn't turn up for any of my scheduled beauty treatments and I didn't report to Dr. Lau for my daily hypnotherapy sessions. I was resolved to not let that bitch mess with my mind again. I dead-set that I was going to make it difficult for Mr. Croker at every step of the way.

On the third day, there was a knock at my door at about eleven in the morning. I was surprised to see it was the driver who had delivered me to both the hospital for my vaginoplasty and to the spa. He pushed into the room carrying a briefcase and without saying a word, handed me an envelope. I opened it to find a handwritten note from Mr. Croker. It read: 'Dear Anne-Marie, I am hugely disappointed you are no longer co-operating by keeping your treatment appointments. You will resume them immediately or there will be severe consequences when you begin your 400 days of service. You can be Daddy's good girl and whore for him in relative comfort or you can displease Daddy and spend who days on the streets. Do you really think you will survive 400 days as a common street whore? Do you really wish to provoke Daddy's wrath and experience every moment you spend with me as a form of punishment?

Thrashings will be the least of your problems. Choose wisely. If you agree to co-operate you will signify by dressing in your whore uniform and giving my driver Evans an enthusiastic blowjob which he will film for me. Be warned, if you refuse, I have told Evans to give you a thrashing and painfully sodomise you as a taste of punishments to come. Unfortunately, I will not be able to visit you tonight to give your newly tightened cunt its first fucking tonight, but it is merely a pleasure delayed. Regardless of what you choose, I have arranged for your stay at the spa to be extended by a week to allow you catch up on what you have already missed. Daddy'.

'Choose wisely'. The bastard. What choice did I really have? Do as I was told or be punished god knows how for it. The threat was clear. I'd have a lot worse to worry about than thrashings and being forced to become a street whore for more than a year if I didn't comply. Bastard. I knew then that to try and resist would only make things worse for me. However much I hated following Mr. Croker's instructions, I knew they were the least worst option to me in terms of physical pain and degradation. I knew that despite my previous resolution, Dr. Lau would be conditioning me again and I would be giving Evans a blowjob.

Crying a little, I looked at the silent, impassive Evans. He was a man of nearly six-feet in height. If I had to guess his age it was in his early sixties or late fifties. He was broad-shouldered in a way that somewhat reminded me of bouncers, though even through his smart suit, it was clear he was carrying some excess weight. His face was unreadable and my tears seemed to have no impact on him at all. "I have agreed to Mr. Croker's orders. I need a couple of minutes to prepare." With that I scooped up the lingerie and shoes Mr. Croker had brought on his visit. Still crying, I then disappeared into the bathroom to change into my degrading 'whore uniform'.

I was in such a terrible mental state it took me at least 10 minutes to put on the lingerie and remove the mess my tears had made of my minimal makeup. Putting on the black basque, stockings and obscene ouvert briefs without a gusset and open rear made me feel physically sick. It really did feel like I was dressing in the uniform of a whore. By putting on the flimsy bits of lace I was not only complying with Mr. Croker's instruction, I was accepting his control. Accepting that I would dress like a whore for him and give blowjobs to whoever he ordered. Shaking, I struggled to put on the three-inch heels. Whatever Dr. Lau was doing to my mind, by dressing like this and agreeing to go out there and service Evans, I was collaborating with Mr. Croker in my own degradation, my own descent into hell.

When I finally developed enough courage to leave the bathroom, I felt humiliated. I was walking on designer hooker heels, dressed in expensive lingerie consisting of stocking, basque and backless, open-crotched knickers. There was no escaping I was advertising myself for sex. No escape from the fact that this was to me the uniform of a woman forced to give a blowjob to a stranger. Forced by a blackmailer that delighted in calling himself my 'Daddy'.

As soon as I entered the bedroom I felt physically sick. Evans had undressed and was lying naked on my bed pumping an already hard penis. It was repulsive. Undressed, he was a lot more flabby than I had imagined and had a thick covering of white hair on his chest, legs and arms. With the hand not casually masturbating himself he began to film me as a walked towards the bed. I was shocked to see that in my absence he had also set up a small tripod that held another camera. Oh god, my humiliation of sexual capitulation and use was going to be thoroughly captured. Would only Mr. Croker see it or would it be shown to my husband as well? Worse, would it be shown to unknown others too?

I had no idea how I was going to be able to fake the 'enthusiastic' blowjob Mr. Croker wanted to see. The last thing I wanted to do was put Evan's penis in my mouth. With great reluctance I climbed up onto the bed and knelt beside him. Neither Evans or I said anything, but I was painfully aware of him filming me, painfully aware of how agitated my breathing had become. Trembling slightly, I gently placed one of my hands around the shaft of Evans' cock. He wasn't endowed with great length -- maybe five inches -- but his penis was thick. It wasn't quite Coke can wide, but my pale white hand seemed quite small encircling it.

I lent forward and gently kissed his head. Doing this, I almost retched. His penis and white mass of pubic hair smelt of urine and sweat. I'd never had a lover -- no that was the wrong word -- sexual partner with such a foul odour. I had never been with anyone with such an overpowering whiff of dirtiness. Evans stopped pumping his penis and let me take over. With a firm hold around his girth, I moved my hand up and down while I prepared myself to lower my mouth down towards the vile stench of his groin.

Trying to ignore his stench I began again to gently kiss his throbbing head, eventually moving on to sticking out my tongue and giving it gentle, teasing licks. He tasted as bed as he smelled. A vile cocktail of piss and saltiness that suggested he hadn't washed himself there for quite a while. Fighting hard not to heave, my licks became more powerful and insistent. I began to take the first-inch of his hardness into my mouth, sucking on it as my head began to bob up and down. My efforts were clearly pleasing Evans as he began to let out small grunts of pleasure. Taking him deeper into my mouth, he moaned and spoke his first words to me. They were degrading: "That's it whore. Suck. Suck it like the dirty fucking slut you are."

Part of me wanted to cry, part of my -- almost certainly the part of me that Dr. Lau had been brainwashing -- began to respond to his verbal abuse. I felt my sex quiver and moisten as he continued to call me terrible names. Keeping up my sucking I was surprised when Evans pushed me away. Any hope that he was finished demeaning me through the forced sex act was short-lived. "Get your cunt up over my face. I want to lick it while you suck me off."

Reluctantly I straddled him. I was on all fours across his bloated belly with my head was towards his hard cock coated in my saliva and with backside close enough to his face to feel his rushed breathing on my bum cheeks. Wearing the backless and gussetless black lace ouvert I realised the vile old man would have not only an up close view of my moistening sex, but all the access to it he desired.

"What are you waiting for whore. Get back to sucking it." Grudgingly I returned my mouth to his penis, taking its head between my lips. Tears began to fall down my face, but out of fear of what would happen in my future if I didn't give an 'enthusiastic' blowjob I took him as deeply as I could as I wanked his shaft. Suddenly I felt coarse fingers being dragged along the length of my sex. "Mr. Croker's right. You are a natural whore. You're wet even though you're being made to suck my cock. What a fucking dirty bitch you are."

His degrading words were mortifying. My tears flowed faster. To my utter shame, there was some truth in what he was saying. As he traced my puffy lips with his fingers I knew he was encountering wetness. Even though I felt traumatised by being forced to give him a blowjob, some part of me was aroused. His words devastated me because I couldn't fully deny them.

I had to take my mouth of his penis when I was hit by the physical shock as his tongue began touching my delicate lips, probing at the folds of my sex. Evan's licked slowly and with some unexpected skill. My own breathing began to quicken and to try to hide this and to stop any involuntary moan being detected I began to suck him again. After a couple of minutes my jaw began to ache, but I didn't want to stop as I knew if my mouth wasn't full I would be gasping for air as Evan's tongue had zoned in on my sensitive bud. His tongue circled it, lapped at it. Against my will I could feel myself responding.

Utterly ashamed at myself, at the betrayal of my body and my modified mind, I broke off from giving him oral pleasure and pleaded: "Please stop. I don't want to come like this."

Evans laughed. It was a cruel, mocking chuckle. "I don't give a fuck what you want girlie, you're just a whore now. Now suck me. The boss has given me permission to spank you till you are black and blue and fuck in the arse if I'm not happy with the job you do."

Deeply afraid of that prospect and despite my soft weeping, I did as I was told and sucked Evans again. Using one hand to control his hardness, I stuck out my tongue out for him to glide across and pulled my lips across my teeth. I took as much of his penis into my mouth as I could manage without gagging. My head bobbed up and down as I sucked him. He began to let out little grunts of pleasure as his tongue returned to probing my sex. It licked across the length of me, parting my lips with it questing pressure. I fought hard against any arousal it was causing -- even when Evans focussed on lapping at my gently throbbing clitoris -- and focussed on what I was doing with my mouth and hand.

Suddenly he pulled his mouth away from my sex and shouted: "Suck you fucking whore. I'm going to come in your dirty fucking whore mouth!" I could feel him tensing through my hand and I instinctively pulled my head away, but it was too late! Jets of hot liquid salt shot into my mouth and spurted onto my withdrawing lips, nose and cheeks. The taste of Evans' semen flooded my mouth as it simultaneously dripped from my face. I felt totally debased.

Evans got of the bed and filmed himself milking the last few drops of his sperm into his free hand before running it through my long red hair. He looked down at me and with contempt in his voice said: "You fucking dirty whore." He then continued to film me as used his fingers to smear his ejaculate across my face and feed it back into mouth. Eventually, when he had captured enough of my sobbing and the ignominy of the salt of my tears running down to join with the salt of his semen splatter, Evans dressed without saying a word and packed away the camera that had been on the tripod. Without even a backward glance he left them as I sat on the bed and sobbed at my violation and the guilt I felt at my on complicity in it.

Worse, I couldn't deny I also felt a need to reach my own orgasm. Despite the trauma of what I had just been forced to do, I needed to come. Partly it Evan's lapping at my sex. Partly I feared, it was the impact of Dr. Lau's brainwashing, but my clitoris was throbbing and my entire sex pulsing with a need for sexual relief.

Tentatively I began to touch myself. Fingers slowly running the length of my recently tightened sex, gently nudging apart my puffy little lips and polishing themselves in my wetness. I began to roll my bud, but despite trying to imagine gentle lovemaking, all I could focus on was disturbing images of Evans bending me across the bed and spanking my bare bottom through my obscene ouvert briefs. My other hand was pinching and rolling my nipples through the black lace of the basque as unbidden images of Evans violently sodomising me while Mr. Croker filmed gleefully it began to dominate my imagination.

Pressing harder against my clitoris I concentrated on the thought of him raping my arse while twisting my hair into a pony tail that he pulled violently upon like a horse's rein to control me. Rolling faster and harder I thought about the pain, the degradation. I thought about the dirty feeling of submission and being owned that anal sex always aroused in me. I thought about the disgusting, flabby old man who was old enough to be my father raping my bottom and calling me a "Dirty anal whore" as he did it. Suddenly a flush ran against my chest and I was screaming out: "Oh god! Ohh god! Fuck me!" as I came in violent spasms against my own hand.

I lay back on the bed limp. I sobbed with absolute shame that I had just had a fantastic orgasm to the worst thoughts of violation. The worst of it was that I had needed that orgasm so desperately that I didn't even think to stop masturbating to such a humiliating, hurtful scenario. They had broken me. Mr. Croker, Dr. Lau, they had broken me. I was truly worried that they were forcing me into becoming a whore at the deepest levels of my being.