Confessions of a Sex Slave Pt. 01

September 11

Dear Master,

I arrived in Paris a little late; almost midnight. My foot tapped impatiently on the worn linoleum, pausing briefly each time I thought my bag was in sight, only to resume. I eventually made my way to the taxi stand, bags in tow. The French flowed somewhat stilted from my lips; it had been a while.

I arrived at Gabriele's place at around 12:30 am. He greeted me with a hearty hug and a kiss on each cheek. I itched to run my fingers through his short-cropped brown hair; his smiling blue eyes elicited a curve up of my lips, green eyes alight.

He and James, an American friend, had settled in an hour earlier. The small studio fit the three of us comfortably, but I wondered where exactly everyone would sleep - only one bed and a very small couch! Conversation flowed over wine while we prepared for our night on the town.

I took no more than ten minutes to shower, change, and do my make-up. A slinky black halter-top covered my torso (but barely), skinny jeans clung to my hips, and black and silver sandals ensured that my feet wouldn't hurt before I was ready to go home. With each step, my long brown hair brushed my nearly bare back. Very light makeup. I looked good enough to eat. At least that's what Gabriele kept saying.

As soon as we walked in the doors I felt the techno beat pulsing through my cells. The place was packed even though it was after 2am because some famous DJ was spinning. (I think that's what the kids are calling it these days.)

We danced. Gabriele is one of the only men I let dance up on me, because he can do it without getting in my way. I need room to move!

I tried to engage with both of the guys so that James's stag status wasn't as painfully obvious, but he knew Gabriele and I couldn't keep our hands off of each other and waved me off every time.

After the wine, I was feeling very... loose and relaxed. I started sipping water as soon as I felt tipsy though. I wanted to remember the night.

Oh, how I danced. Closing my eyes, the strobe lights continued to flash across my pupils in time with the music flooding my veins. I moved. I didn't know if I looked good or bad; I didn't care. Those are moments I live for. Every molecule in tune with that beat. And I moved...

Gabriele and I became increasingly touchy as the night waned. We occasionally kissed, but only for a very short time. I've never been one for pda.

James eventually called an end to our excursion, though I could have danced until dawn. We stumbled into the night and hailed a cab.

Once we got to the apartment, I changed into a pair of boy shorts and a tight blue bra tank. I deliberately left off my underwear, sliding my fingers along my labia, spreading the hot moisture I found seeping out of my pussy. Boys aren't always good at using all of that delicious natural lubrication to make your clit feel delightful. Sometimes you have to help them out a little bit.

I was so wet. Each pulse of the music, each grind of his cock on my ass crack through my jeans, each stolen caress or pinch of my nipple had sent electricity straight into my hard, swollen clit. Now it felt like every bit of my pussy would burst with all of the heat radiating from its center. It had taken everything I had not to fuck him in a corner. If I'd worn a dress I might have. This is why I don't drink and wear dresses!

I quickly brushed my teeth. I thought that perhaps we could grope each other in the dark, given Gabriele's guest. I'd left my panties off so that he could have easy access. As turned on as I was, I knew I would cum so fast! Awareness that James was passed out across the room and might wake up to see and hear us made me even hotter. Imagining the back and forth in my mind of, "Is he awake?" and, "I don't care!" as I fucked myself into a frenzy on G's fingers had me panting.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom Gabriele had changed into a t-shirt and gym shorts; James was dead to the world on a foldout bed. I could see Gabriele's hard cock outlined through the silver fabric.

Yesss.

I moved forward and, in the middle of the room, kissed him, moulding my body to his. Looking to tease. My eyes widened when he pulled me roughly into the bathroom. It wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but I followed eagerly. I figured he wanted me to suck him off. That reminded me of our wanton first date in Boston.

What a slut I was that night! We'd only just met a few hours earlier and there I was, greedily sucking his cock down my throat and moaning loudly in appreciation for the pleasure. With that fond memory in mind, I followed him without protest, licking my lips in anticipation.

I also decided that if I blew him in the bathroom he wouldn't try to fuck me in the middle of the night. As you know, I had decided to wait. Give him a taste, but no more. Little did I realize, but he had other plans. And mine, though well laid, went awry.

In the bathroom I pushed him against the wall, skimmed my hands down his chest and pulled out his cock. I went to town on it.

Mmmm.

I moaned when his spunk hit the back of my throat, loving the taste, loving the squirts as they shot out of him, and wishing only that there was more of it. Imagine how I would look kneeling down on the floor with jizz dripping down my chin! I felt satisfied and slutty and smiled coquettishly before reaching for the door.

Suddenly he pulled on my right wrist and shoved me down against the bathroom sink, facing the mirror, before pulling down my boy shorts. Pushing my legs apart and my body down, he positioned me so that my ass swayed in the air and my face rested close to the mirror. I had a momentary thought of, "Condom!" before I heard him pull it out of his pocket.

Foiled!

That's not to say that I wasn't incredibly hot for his cock, but had I realized he had a condom in his pocket I would have approached the situation differently. So as to avoid ending up with my shorts around my ankles, my ass in the air, and his cock pushing its way into my wet pussy.

But I was there, in that position, starving for his cock, even though I could still taste it on my tongue, so I decided to live it up. I spread my legs wider, arched my back more sharply, and humped the air between the tip of his dick and my tight little cock-hole. Because that's what I was in that moment; nothing but a sopping wet hole for cock. Any cock, but his would certainly do.

Gabriele pounded away at my cunt. Each thrust pushed my cheek against the mirror, the cold tiles rubbed up against my hot feet, the counter dug into my hips. I used my arms to cushion my chin against the faucet and half-stifled my moans.

I both wanted and didn't want James to hear. Did I want him to hear because I wanted Gabriele to be turned on by my wanton need? Or did I hope that he would realize that Gabriele was fucking this engaged girl's brains out in the bathroom and think, "Slut," even as his dick became rock hard and he wished that it was him making me scream?

What came out of my mouth were garbled gasps and moans punctured by shouts, my mouth held open by Gabriele's fingers as he tried to fill it as he was filling my pussy. I looked at him in the mirror, his eyes cast down to watch me jerk my hips up and down against his rough thrusts. Maybe he was punishing me with his cock; maybe he just knows I like it as hard as he can dish it out. You know how hard I need it...

He pushed the straps of my tank top down my shoulders and my breasts bounced free. They jiggled and swung each time he pumped in and out of me. I don't know what it is about that look - shirt pushed up over the hips and pulled down under the breasts - but it makes me feel like a whore. And I do so love to feel like a whore.

His face contorted in the mirror. I was really getting off on how dirty it was to be doing that there, with him, in that way.

If my master could see me right now...

My arousal soared to another level, imagining you, the man I love, seeing me at that moment. Drunk, clothes shoved aside so that some guy could revel in how my filthy pussy felt hot and tight gripping his rod.

I became so wanton thinking about you and how you would pull your cock out of your pants at that vision. My moans got louder. I had to touch myself. I moved my hips further back and extended my left arm in front of me to hold the faucet while my right massaged my swollen clit.

I looked up at his face and it was clear to me in that instant that he was thinking of nothing but my pussy and I was thinking about an imaginary you watching through the mirror, James listening from the living room, and how my clit felt under my fingers. And for once in my life, two people experiencing the same situation in very different ways felt good.

Then I thought about you passing me around to other men and came, shuddering, on my fingers. How you would look patronizingly at me as I kneeled at your feet, covered in their cum, and tell me I'd been a model whore for you, my love, my master. How I would feel so warm and happy, fucked to an inch of my life by more men than I could count, and yet still unbelievably ravenous for you and eager for your pleasure.

We fucked in a variety of positions. I rode him on the floor, squatting over his cock and rutting like the bitch in heat that you know me to be. Eventually my muscles tired and he impatiently shoved me down to take me missionary style.

I was ready for him to cum so I pulled him up to the sink again, figuring that my pussy might be tighter that way. He kept pulling apart my ass cheeks and looking at my anus, shaking his head while muttering shuddering expletives. I thought to myself, "I wonder if he'll cum if he fucks me in the ass?" So I looked at him in the mirror and, staring directly into his eyes, said, "Wanna fuck my ass?" Not an instance of hesitation.

Gabriele pulled his dick out of my pussy, slippery with my wetness and I spit on my fingers before pulling apart my ass cheeks. I pushed back on him until he was buried deep inside. You've conditioned my ass to take cock and now I'm always wide-open and ready for one. He fucked me in the ass for a long time. I took it like a good little anal slut, but eventually told him to stop so that I could take him again tomorrow.

I pulled off the condom and pushed him against the wall again. My mouth worked on his cock until I felt the gush of cum splash across my tongue.

Yummy.

Feeling both accomplished and thinking, "Finally!," I pulled on my clothes and tugged him after me to the bed.

Once in bed we lay there for less than ten minutes when he started running his hands up and down my ass crack from behind. I opened my legs for his probing fingers and he pulled my shorts down. Rather than protest, I immediately threw off the covers and pulled my tank top over my head, bending over to pull his shorts off. I didn't care that James might see. I wanted him to see. Wanted him to pretend to be asleep and peek out through half-closed lids. See me take that cock for a third time that night, straining to get it harder, deeper.

Rolling him on top of me, I only growled, "Condom," and humped the air above my cunt, desperate for more cock meat to fill me up. Jerking on him while he kneeled above me, I was acutely aware of our nakedness and the fact that James lay a mere 6 feet away. And I loved it. If he'd been a stranger I probably would have begged him to come fuck my mouth because I always feel better with a cock in it.

We fucked in every position we had already tried in the bathroom, with nothing but an occasional blanket thrown over ourselves. I went to maybe 25% volume but the sounds of fucking; the slipping, slurping, sucking noises of my dripping cunt greedily swallowing every inch of Gabriele echoed around the room; accompanied by our frantic breathing and the occasional, "Fuuuck..." that escaped my lips.

Eventually the exhaustion of international travel got to me and the mental novelty wore off in the face of that onslaught. I rolled off from my cowgirl position and said simply, "I can't anymore. Sleep." I passed out in less than a minute and was dead to the world until the next morning.