Emily's Story

He produced a black eye mask from his pocket and moved behind her to slip it over her head and tie it tight. She shivered and withdrew into herself, attempting to disengage from her body to minimize the trauma.

When she felt her leggings being cut away with a knife and her crop top slit from top to bottom, she was jolted back into the appalling reality and had no choice but to accept her fate.

Standing vulnerable, naked, and shivering in fright, she heard the door open and sensed that many people had entered. She intuited that they were taking a shot glass and sitting in the armchairs around her. She could smell drink and stale tobacco and above all, that awful mustiness of the old. There was a low masculine murmur.

She felt a firm hand on her shoulder, and she was forced onto her knees. Rough hands slipped between her thighs and pushed them apart. Somebody slipped rings around her ankles and pulled them out wide before connecting a bar between to prevent closure and keep her exposed and accessible.

Finally, her hands were pulled behind her and cuffed -- she was blind and helpless.

This was her fantasy -- to have no have no free will -- to offer her body as an object of lust -- to receive pleasure and pain -- to be subject to perversions beyond imagination -- but now, in this drab and dirty room, she was about to endure the fearful reality.

She felt people rise and walk around her -- hands lifted and stroked her breasts and ran between her thighs and bum penetrating her cunt and her anus. When fingers forced themselves into her mouth, she knew her violation would be total and cried out, but it was useless -- she must give way -- she must disconnect to survive.

After several minutes the first erect cock was presented to her mouth -- she recoiled in horror as an unknown voice whispered in her ear:

"Suck it bitch!!"

Emily tentatively explored the tip with her tongue and, as the thrusting increased, her lips were forced open and it was inside her mouth pushing to the back of her throat. She gagged but a hand slipped behind her head, and she was forced to accept the intrusion. Suddenly she was gasping for air and after several sharp strokes it was withdrawn. Her saliva was uncontrollable, dripping down her chin and over her breasts as she coughed and spluttered.

The cycle continued for some time with the same prick but then another was presented. She could tell it was slightly broader, but the technique was the same -- the hand behind her head and the bursts of thrusting followed by frequent withdrawal.

When she finally felt Rob's familiar technique at work on her lubricated vulva and anus, her cums began too easily. She submitted to the stimulating depravity of her situation -- the spectators, the performance, the development of her oral skill -- prick after prick, the seediness, the violation in all her places, her newfound voraciousness and, above everything, her thrillingly shameful acceptance that now, she truly was a "slut".

Prick followed prick in a magical roundabout of sense, taste and smell and after some time she recognized the same pricks returning for more treatment and she was dimly aware of the revolving door behind her allowing more men to enter the room to enjoy her.

Somebody, but not Rob, had become fixated on her tits -- stroking, lifting, kneading, sucking -- and this drove her wild -- her movements became violent and erratic and her cries louder. They paused to let her calm before they began again in her mouth.

There was no attempt at any point to fuck her which, to Emily, seemed odd. As she reflected later, this session served to develop her oral technique and normalize the sexual intimacy with a host of strangers before the next "Chapter" where she would be truly violated everywhere.

After what seemed like hours, warm spumes began to splash across her face and chest. She was soon covered in the viscous, sticky goo which ran into her mouth, down her neck, over her boobs and down across her tummy.

The same voice whispered in her ear:

"Lick it off bitch -- lick yourself clean."

She reacted to the instruction in her adopted sluttish character -- working her tongue over her body -- lifting her nipples to her mouth to clean her breasts. When Rob slapped her open cunt she gave way, repeating her experience of the morning at J5.

Murmurs:

"What a bitch."

"The best so far!"

"When do we get to have her?"

"On heat -- always get the ones on heat -- you can't beat it."

"Fucking wonderful".

"What an arse -- for fuck's sake!"

The rough talk motivated Emily to continue desperately to clean herself with her lips and tongue - the goo was salty but otherwise tasteless -- it made her thirsty. As an added provocation she began to contort - pushing out her bum and offering her tits. This caused mayhem:

"Look at that -- Oh my good G..."

"For fuck's sake -- stop her."

"I'm going up that arse."

"Not yet matey -- but it will come -- never you worry."

Finally, she collapsed forward and when the irons and mask were eventually removed there was only Rob in the room.

He draped her in a blanket -- as filthy as her body -- and clutching it tight, she was led by Rob through the now crowded Pool Hall.

Everyone turned to look in curiosity at the extraordinary "slut" who had just performed for them, but Emily kept her cum covered face to the floor, cowering in abject, bare footed, dirty naked disgrace. Now that the disgusting performance was over, and ashamed at her willing participation in the depravity, she was desperate to get away. They were both down the steps heading towards the door when the greasy old man stopped her:

"Thanks darlin' -- that's the best dickylicker I've ever had!!"

Emily collapsed into the corner by the door and the blanket fell from her filthy body as she threw up all the man juice in her stomach.

Miraculously the car was standing in the alley outside the red door. She crawled onto the back seat, exhausted and naked, and fell into a fevered shame haunted sleep while Rob drove her home.

******

Chapter 5 -- The Five Senses

Following the J5 and the Jacaranda, Emily felt used, dirty, and permanently soiled -- she could not shower the smell away no matter how hard she tried. She took to her bed and could barely look poor John in the eye. She made up an excuse to avoid Paul but unfortunately Rob's virility was supercharged, and he was keen to make the most of his daily hour of intimacy. Her vagina and anus became uncomfortably sore but luckily her lady doctor was understanding, and the proscribed lotions were beginning to soothe despite the daily workout.

What troubled her more as she recovered was the dichotomy between the sordidness of her ordeal and the power of her awakening. How could she feel desire in such a situation? Why did her mind and body generate that irresistible, all consuming, erotic surge when she submitted to those stressful and disgusting episodes. The need to debase herself for sexual gratification could no longer be denied -- it was part of her -- it always had been -- deep buried -- waiting to be discovered. She blamed the evil Imp -- always sitting on her shoulder -- always whispering terrible thoughts in her ear -- always urging her on. It was frightening and she was determined to resist -- to be brave -- yes -- she would continue for John's sake but would work harder to separate mind from body. She must learn to meditate -- perhaps she could seek help?

With her renumeration from the "House" and her journalism, the balance in her account had never been healthier. She paid for the first phase of John's therapy, came to an agreement with creditors regarding their home and even booked a short holiday for herself at a hotel on a beach in Formentera.

She used the break to review her situation.

Unfortunately, she still needed Rob to care for John, but it was a relief to escape him for a few days. Self-questioning as always, Emily concluded that, maybe -- just maybe -- it would be healthier if she could continue to lose herself in the daily sex with Rob - to be aroused by her hate and submission rather than regard the dreadful situation as unendurable. Maybe she just needed to keep the Imp on a leash rather than put him back to sleep.

That first day on the beach she received a ping on her project phone. The "House" was delighted with her performance during the Induction -- the reviews were very favourable, and she could access the edited recording of the live stream, which was now available to all members. Emily rushed to the beach loo to sick up her breakfast.

She dreaded the next "Chapter" knowing, now, that anything was possible and could only hope that Helen and Christopher would keep their "asset" from any permanent harm, but she could not be sure. She practiced hard at her meditation in preparation for the ordeal she knew was coming.

However, the Imp on the leash was not so easily suppressed. Emily maintained the dress code imposed by Helen and Christopher and selected the briefest of bikinis from the hotel shop -- bright orange, string tied in a halter neck with a thong below. Two tiny triangular pieces of flimsy fabric barely supported her luscious breasts and only just hid her ample areolae. To make the thong decent, where an even tinier piece of fabric covered her pube, she booked into the spa for a depilation as her bum would be naked. She insisted the beautician leave a strip of curated hair above her vulva lips. The thought of going fully nude still frightened her.

As a lone woman showing it all, she attracted much attention at the pool and on the beach and, in her anonymity, enjoyed every minute. The Imp encouraged her to signal her availability and revel in her role as a prickteaser, while treating every approach with an arrogant disdain. She would get her revenge on mankind - they could lust in vain.

On departing Formentera her lack of underwear led to an interesting situation. Wearing a linen smock over her naked body she was hauled into the security booth by an aggressive female official. She was touched everywhere and when her legs were explored, hands crept higher and higher up her bare thighs as the officer watched for Emily's reaction. She refused to flinch, and fingers penetrated Emily's naked cunt for a few seconds.

Emily confidently shouted out:

"I think you've done -- now fuck off!!!"

The shocked official stared open mouthed, and Emily flounced out with a smile on her face.

*

She was waiting at the luggage carousel after her flight when the "Project" phone pinged:

"The taxi is parked at Pick Up T3BS1 -- You have a party tonight."

So soon? Emily was surprised and shocked -- she expected a longer break. She began to shiver with fright and the good vibes of her holiday evaporated in an instant.

In less than an hour, she was dropped off at a side door under the arch of a white painted stucco clad Regents Park mansion. Helen was at the door to meet her, and without explanation, she was briskly led to a services lift and up into an attic story and a small bedroom with an en-suite bathroom.

Helen briefed her on the format for the evening. The party was a meeting of the "great and good" of the "House" and the entertainment with live stream would follow. First, Emily would circulate and meet the leading members and their partners -- Helen suggested she may even make some useful contacts for her journalism. Then Emily would be the entertainment which, this evening, was entitled "The Five Senses". She was to be led through five rooms, and, in each, she would be taken in a different way and subjected to various sensory activities both pleasurable and painful.

Emily collapsed on to the bed and began to shake and cry hysterically:

"I can't do this -- five times! -- Oh my G - do you hear -- it's too much -- five fucks - I cannot do it -- not tonight -- not here -- please Helen -- please!"

Helen gave her a sharp vicious slap across the cheek.

"Yes, you can honey -- you will do it -- and you will love it - I know you're a slut and you know it too! -- stop pretending and take these."

Helen laid out several pills of different colours and poured her a brandy.

Desperate for relief, Emily swallowed them -- one by one -- taking each with a deep gulp of the anesthetic.

Helen continued:

"That's a good slut -- ok -- you can strip and shower -- and then we will get you ready."

Even with the hot water cascading over her body, Emily could not stop shivering.

Helen, now acting the soothing madame, took a soft towel and began to dry Emily's feverish body. She started with tender strokes around her face:

"Honey, you are just the perfect slut. Look at you: mischievous eyes, plump sensual lips -- we will highlight those.

She moved languidly down her body with the towel, gently stroking away the water droplets:

"Lush broad shoulders - soft feminine arms."

She gently lifted her breasts and massaged the crowns:

"Scrumptious tits and these super sexy swollen nips with their gorgeous halos."

Emily was going under -- the verbal and physical stimulation was too much.

Helen continued downwards:

"Slim waist, broad fertile hips. Turn around lovey -- I want to check out this wonderful bum - firm and proud -- begging for some serious attention."

She gave her cheeks a playful slap before running her hand between Emily's thighs from behind and lowering her voice to a seductive whisper:

"I just love your vulva lips -- so prominent -- so responsive - so ripe -- so inviting."

She probed deep into Emily's cunt.

Emily swooned despite herself and tremored with her first orgasm. Helen' technique was sensational -- beyond anything Emily had ever experienced.

Helen completed the seduction:

"Wonderful soft curvy thighs and shapely legs - unblemished double cream skin. You really are a natural."

Emily attempted to meditate as Helen continued:

"We are going to flush your bum with this fountain and then I will use cream on your vagina and anus, so you won't get hurt. Are you OK with that?"

Emily in a trance looked away distractedly.

She placed Emily, kneeling on the bed and sat behind her to perform the operation - Emily only flinched a little with the discomfort and then Helen let her settle.

Once all was done, Helen took a dress from a wall cabinet. It was a in a peach-coloured patterned chiffon with string straps, low cut and with a waist high slit on one side. It was transparent and floated easily over Emily's body -- gliding down over her silky-smooth skin. As Emily gazed at her reflection she could see her breasts, pube and bum shadowing through. It was all on display -- an appetizer for the delights to come.

Helen had released Emily's Imp -- whispering in her ear - turning her on -- giving her confidence - encouraging her to flaunt herself:

"Look at me -- do you like what you see -- imagine having me.

I am sexed up - I was created to fuck, and I want to be fucked.

Yes - I am your slut. "

Helen creamed Emily's feet with her soft comforting hands before slipping on nude strap heels to shape her calves and profile her bum.

Finally, she brushed up Emily's hair with a blow dry, applied a little make-up, a nail varnish refresh and a heavy spray of expensive French perfume.

She had one last instruction:

"Listen Emily and this is serious -- right -- you will meet people you recognize -- politics, media, TV, film -- don't acknowledge them and don't even think about going public -- they will destroy you and it will hurt -- believe me. Once the entertainment starts streaming, our members will be masked so identification will be impossible. I know you understand, and you will be well rewarded, but get ready for a hard night -- yes?

OK lovey -- they are waiting -- we should go."

*

Helen led Emily by the hand into the reception room. Guests were congregating in the centre under a great chandelier and to one side was a real fire flaming under a Regency fireplace. Men in lounge suits and women in high London style were sipping flutes of champagne and buzzing in animated conversation.

Suddenly all eyes turned towards Emily and the chatter ceased.

As Helen led her to the guests, Emily could feel her swaying breasts tremble beneath the gossamer thin chiffon and, with each stride, she was conscious of her exposure - the daring side slit in her dress displaying the profile of her naked bum and her luscious thighs. She attracted admiration, and this gave her assurance. Nevertheless, these people radiated wealth, power and chic and this sharpened her fear. She kept her eyes to the floor.

Her later memories of the reception were a blur which was understandable given the intensity of her subsequent performances. She did recognise famous faces both male and female, but she could only put a name to a handful.

Many men and women were keen to engage her in conversation -- how lovely she looked, what did she do, where did she live -- and Helen, immaculate in a tailored trouser suit, was always by her side, guiding her from one group to another. Only when she was introduced to two older men and sat between them did she feel a hand stroking her back and fingers clawing on her bare thigh. She shivered in fright and Helen moved her on.

After an hour Helen extracted her from the reception and they returned to the attic room. Emily was offered a stiff brandy to calm her nerves and Helen knelt to remove her heels before slipping the straps from her shoulders, allowing the dress to fall to the floor. Business-like as ever, Helen gathered the dress and hung it back in the cabinet.

Helen clipped a silver choker with a ring around Emily's neck and a silver chain lead was fastened to the ring.

After a final check in the mirror, Helen led her by the chain, nude, into the corridor.

Emily's emotions were torn inside out -- unstable and chaotic - she was terrified but there was something dreamlike about her exposure. Yes, she was helpless, but, in her captivity, the offering of her unclothed body fired her arousal to fever heat.

They descended two flights of stairs -- Emily would later remember the feel of the deep pile carpet on her bare feet and the cool draught playing on her naked flesh which made her tremble. The vast house seemed to be empty.

Finally, they paused outside a set of double doors. As they swung open Emily almost feinted with the adrenaline rush.

*

Touch:

The guests were directly before her in the dull light -- frightening and otherworldly -- some wore masks of the carnival style -- other masks were more sinister -- clownlike and monstrous.

The crowd parted to reveal a bed, bathed in bright light, with a naked man reclining -- holding out his hand -- gesturing Emily to come to him. He was blond -- tanned -- tall -- full of muscle -- shining with healthy virility.

As Helen led her through the watchers, she could feel smooth hands touching her everywhere -- stroking her breasts, her bum, her thighs -- she flinched but, despite her terror, managed to maintain her composure until they reached the bed.

Helen released the lead from the choker and handed Emily to the man who would be her first partner of the evening.

Emily was in a trance as he took her and laid her down on her back. The light was blinding, and she was barely conscious of the watchers gathering around her.

She rested on her elbows as he opened her thighs and dived into her crotch with his face. It was now that Emily saw his immense erection and cried out in horror, but she was soon subsumed in the ecstasy of orgasm as his expertise took her under -- the serpent in her cunt, relentlessly probing for those hidden unexplored recesses of female pleasure.

Her cries echoed around the dark room as he brought her to successive climaxes. Murmurs of appreciation from the blackness penetrated her sensual miasma.