Fighting Dreams Ch. 04

He looks around the room once, probably for Black, then releases his leash from my ring. "When Alan signals, you come to him, sweet thing. Finish your rounds," he orders.

It's back to the floor, walking my circles, offering drinks and just letting them handle me as they please. Most like to stroke or swat my ass, some tweak my nipples or run a finger down between my legs. My tray lightens bit by bit as they take what they want from it.

I'm down to my last shot when I see Alan staring at me. He beckons once; I come to the side of the bar quickly as I can. He unclips my tray and sets it in a stack. Clipping a plain lead, he takes me down the hallways and then down a set of stairs to the lower rooms.

A door opens and I look around as I let him guide me. Where are we going? I've never been in this room.

By the time I've even a remote idea of what is happening, he already has me in the room, bending over a series of bars that hold my hips and torso high as my collar's secured to the floor. A strap secures over my shoulders to hold me there in my all fours position. My hands are flat to the ground when my cuffs are secured, I can't move them at all nor my feet from where he has them.

"You look so helpless with that gag in. It's delicious. So I think I'll leave it for them to enjoy too," he comments, stroking a finger down the skin of my back.

My eyes are caught by the bare circle on his chest, the shimmer of it at the low lighting drawing my attention as it sways. His tag is gone; the fact has me wondering just who he is here. Does he simply wear it for pleasure? Or is there something more?

"They'll remove your gag when they get here.Your mouth is fair use tonight, but nothing else. You'll be a mess by the time they're finished. But if you're a good girl, he'll reward you for it."

A mess? What do you mean?

"And maybe he'll let me reward you as well."

With that thought left to hang, he walks out of the room and closes the door.

I stare into the darkness, under the gold light and just wait. Feet pass by, but none come in. The air leaves me shivering. Or maybe that's the nerves of waiting to see what will happen.

Finally, the door clicks and as I turn to look, the men come in. There's more of them than I expected; all in loose sleep pants and a few with shirts. Another man, dressed in dark suit pants and a white button down steps into the room with them as they form a loose circle around me.

"The rules are simple. You can touch, you can stroke, you can use her mouth and anything in this room on her. You may not undress or move her, and you may not cause her pain. Is it clear?" he states as he looks at each of them. "I will handle any behavior from her."

There's a low chorus of assent; though they may glance up at him, their eyes all seem to linger on my exposed form with a smoldering hunger. Some are already palming their rising members. Others mill about, taking seats in some of the plush chairs at the fringe.

The circle breaks as one man steps through from behind me, walking along my side. His hands are tan and he's dressed in a loose pair of black pants. But as he kneels down in front of me and I stare into his vibrant green eyes, my heart stops in my chest.

Francisco Bolton's face is inches from mine.

I flinch as his hand comes up, expecting the worst but he simply strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. A gentle touch that doesn't match the fiendish joy in his eyes. "Are you going to be a good girl?" he murmurs.

Slowly, I make myself nod.

"Good. Let's take this off..." He reaches up and unfastens the gag, letting it drop from my mouth. "Now, little kitten, show me how well you lick..."

There's no decorum to it; he pulls my head back by my hair as he frees his cock with the other. And then he uses my mouth as his fuck sleeve. When he growls at me to suck, I start trying to match his rhythm.

I can hear two of the others stroking their dicks on either side of me, pounding the flesh furiously.

One shifts between my feet, covering the rubber over my ass with his load; the other one shoots it over my back. And as they step away, others take their place within the ring of stroking. Now I see what Alan meant about a mess.

Their hands run over my body, squeezing my breasts and ass, pressing a finger against my pussy to make me squeal against him. I can feel their spunk drying against my skin like a sticky glob of glue.

When Bolton's at his peak, he pulls out and squirts all his cum over my face and hair and chin before stepping back to let another take his place in my mouth.

It's a hurricane of sucking, being touched, and being covered in their arousal. There's no space for shame or even concern as they use me or their hands for their pleasure.

One gentleman even rocks his cock between the clefts of my ass cheeks, sawing away until he spurts all over my back.

Then there's the one who plugs my nose as he thrusts down my throat until I'm gagging on him.

There's the one that holds me head down on him until I feel my cheeks flushing in warning before he cums partially in and on my lips.

I can't keep track of who is doing what; my mouth is always filled by one or another and it's all I can do to breathe between them.

Bolton steps behind me before too long, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "This restraint systems are just like my breeding racks that we use to fuck sluts until their bodies are leaking cum from every orafice. And I'm going to show you how a breeder feels."

He drizzles lube between my closed thighs, then thrusts himself between them so violently that it jolts me against the bars that are holding me captive. I can feel his sawing motions against my covered cunt; I can't help that they feel good in my heightened state even as the savagery makes my hip bones ache against the bar. A low sound escapes around the cock stuffed in my mouth him groan.

They both spurt their pleasure a few minutes later; one in my mouth the other up on my breasts and belly from where it's locked between my thighs.

I'm sure that every cock uses my mouth at least once; how many times they cover me I've lost track. The wall of bodies surrounding me rarely breaks except for one to take another's place. I'm nothing more than a sleeve for their use, a canvas for the painting. But slowly the circle begins to dwindle down.

They're draped along the couches, milling about as the last few take what they please.

When the last finally pulls free of my mouth, I feel boneless. Everything feels like it's behind a piece of glass; I can't seem to get my eyes to focus and my breath comes in short pants as I sag in my bonds.

There's a glittering of discard bottles of water around me like some fucked up type of plastic flowers.

I feel sticky and gross.

Yet under it all, there's something that is almost content. They're happy. I'm safe for this moment in time. What do I have to worry about? Only the gag as it's fitted back into my mouth by the dungeon master.

He directs the others out of the room who are finished. To my surprise, he steps out with them a few moments later. It's only then that I raise my head.

Bolton is the last to lounge in here. He's sipping on a nearly empty bottle of water, staring at me with something possessive lurking in his eyes.

"I can't tell you how angry I was when you ran," he states softly. "I was looking forward to ruining that pretty cunt of yours... but that's not an option at the moment even if I'm itching to break you in."

When he gets up, all the hair on the back of my neck stands up. Though I tug against my bonds, it's no use and the gag has my voice trapped in my throat as he walks up to stand before me. "As I train my handlers... Sometimes to really break a bitch, you have to remind them of their place."

His dick is out in his palm as he stroke it lazily, his eyes closed. Moments later, it begins to spray and leak along my head and face. The acrid smell hits my nose, I realize just what he means.

His piss splatters across my back, legs, and even my hair as I shiver with revulsion. He covers me with everything he has.

I hate him.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

But there is nothing I can do but sit there as it coats me.

I did feel sticky and content. Now I just feel hideous, like an animal rolled in the mud.

He wipes his dick against my cheeks as he finishes, then tucks it away. "The hate in your eyes makes every credit worth it," he murmurs as he leans in close so that we're eye to eye. There's a flash as his phone snaps an image. "I'm sure Seth will enjoy seeing you too."

His words ball in my belly like muck; the smell of piss, the flashes of memory of being in that tight black barred space, the cramping discomfort in my body has my breath coming in short panicked pants through my nose. The feeling of drugged out apathy mixed with the lewd clients paraded through to stare and touch and lick and...

Not him. Please, no... no no no... they wouldn't. Not to him! I'll do anything!

Bolton just chuckles at my fear.

"Seth still intends to own you Jasmine, and he will very, very soon.. Make no mistake, kittycat, you're going back in your cage and I'm going to have so much fun with you when he does."

With that said, he leaves me to shiver in my bonds. And just when I think he can't possibly make things worse for me... everything goes dark. My frightened squeal and the sound of metal grinding to metal as my body fights its bonds must alert the hallway security because a few seconds later they flick back on.

I'm shaking when Alan clips his lead to my neck and releases the cuffs soon after. He says not a word, and I don't dare initiate one as the reality of Bolton's words start to chip away at the fragile shell of resilience I have left.

As we start to walk down the long hallway, toward the black glossy door at the end, I feel the dread starting to well up in my chest. I'm shaking, the chains rattling with each step as I trail behind Alan.

How can this possibly get any worse?