House of Stanos: Awaiting trial

On Friday nights there was a surge in the early evening after dinner as guys came in to get blown before heading out clubbing. It finally made sense to me why guys were so hard to entice at the club when me and my friends had gone out. They had just nutted and therefore weren't desperate for a score. It was why Jill had to let her hookup finger her on the dance floor before he took her home. If a girl wasn't going to play the guys weren't going to chase.

During the weekend there were more men coming in during the day as tourists came to the town and then the Friday night surge repeated itself on Saturday. Then Sunday afternoon was a final surge as guys visited one more time before going home.

In addition to this regular ebb and flow occasionally girls would leave for special functions. Guys could have them at their special events. Often the girls were dressed up for the event sometimes even looking like a regular girl going out rather than a blowjob artist. For the right money any costume was possible.

Over the weeks I got to know men and the male anatomy very, very well. I even had my own group of regulars, guys who would look me up and wait for me. Maybe it was because I was an American, maybe because they liked my look. It was...nice. I felt content living in a safe, happy place giving out pleasure. It made me happy to see my guys dissolve into ecstasy as they finished and at the end of the day I was content. I just wished someone would make me come but that wasn't on the menu, as it were. As a result I just lived in a perpetually horny state, happy day after happy day. I was always wet, my panties soaked all day. My nipples were constantly erect. Some of the guys would stroke my cheek while I worked on them and it seemed like my cheek was now an erogenous zone for me. I marveled at how small-minded I used to be, selfishly withholding pleasure from guys during my college days. I had been missing out. The slave mantra was true, giving pleasure leads you to happiness.

The 'hood girls' were an interesting twist. Some women were eager to give blowjobs. We had a website that women could go on and sign up. A car would pick them up and whisk them away to the bar securely and anonymously. They would strip down to their panties, usually sexy lacy ones, get their arms bound behind their backs and don the hood. Their identity and the identity of the man they were serving was then protected. We got tourists, girls fresh out of high school, bored housewives, even office girls looking for a safe hint of naughtiness. There was one young woman who came in every Sunday after Mass. The price was much higher than for a blowjob from one of us but the guys really seemed into the idea of getting a blowjob, however awkward, from potentially the girl next door. The women seemed really into it too, looking so blissed out when we removed the hood.

One of us would join the woman as she took clients to help them as needed. It was always done in a private room. The event was pure profit for the bar as the women weren't paid anything. They had to agree to service at least three men, and we would sit with them to help as needed. One woman went on a thirty guy marathon. The women weren't trained like we were but what they lacked in technique they made up in enthusiasm. The guys would generally come in and talk to her for a while, fondling her breasts before letting her start. Usually by the third guy the woman was in a sexual daze and would say all sorts of things to turn the guys on. It was assumed that the women were not trained to deepthroat so hands on their head was not allowed. The guys just had to sit there and take what she could give urging her on with his voice alone.

One day a politician, maybe the governor? Mayor? Someone important came in. Older guy with a large group of people including police. All the girls came out, and he addressed us and the management. They were dressed in suits, we were in our tunics and I felt completely underdressed. Usually the guys we serviced were dressed but not in full power suits. The speeches were all in Greek which I don't really understand. It was usually fine as English was the lingua franca of the peninsula. I was standing next to Kira, from Bulgaria, who spoke English about as well as I spoke Greek. She filled me in as best she could that the Governor was here to give us a civic award. Something about our work driving down crime with sexual assault almost vanishing. The owner was very happy receiving the award. The press was there snapping pictures. We posed with all the men, the few women in the entourage looking on awkwardly. A reporter interviewed a few of the girls. It made me feel kind of nice knowing that not only did I make men feel good but my work was contributing to a better, safer society. The owner was on cloud nine all week after that.

Sometimes the bar would have special events. I wasn't used at first, still earning my stripes in the bar, but like half the girls would go out somewhere for some function. The rest of us would man the bar as best we could. One day I was called up for a special function. It turned out it was International Women's Day and the bar was participating. We were driven to the Convention Center where we were stripped naked. Our bodies were then painted by incredibly talented artists. The chose me to be an office girl. I was painted with a charcoal pinstriped suit that went from my wrists to below my knees complete with a white blouse showing between the lapels. I was given heels. On the one hand I was showing less skin than usual. On other hand, I was completely naked, covered only in paint. The lapel pockets were painted on my breasts and 'closed' with a gold button painted on my nipples. My mind reeled as I finally looked at myself in the mirror. A year ago I would have expected to be wearing something like this made out of real wool, now I was only covered in paint.

The other girls were painted like other strong roles for women: military, police, doctor, athletes, even superheroes, complete with an actual cape. The outfits generally looked very conservative from a distance but up close it was obvious what was going on. We each had a little script that we were supposed to recite all about what women could do. I spent a few hours giving my spiel that women play a vital role in the office bringing creative energy to projects and being detail oriented. Then I closed mentioning that office girls liked giving blowjobs too. I stood in my section as group of people, mostly men but some women, came around and listened to us. It was incredibly embarrassing and I felt for the other women visitors who tried to nod in support. Megan, the superhero girl, seemed really into it, delivering her lines with great energy. Afterwards the guys often wanted pictures; men in suits posing next to a girl in body paint. All I could do was smile awkwardly and blush. Afterwards the section closed, and we were 'open for business'. Guys came in for blowjobs from their favorite painted lady.

Another weekend the regional soccer team was in the championship game. We did a special thing where all the girls were nude and body painted in the team uniform. The game was close and the rush for blowjobs during half time meant we had to finish in less than 15 minutes, all twenty-five girls going at the same time. This was extra embarrassing since we had not been painted between our legs. Kneeling on the floor with my back to the bar likely meant that all of my charms were on display. It kind of excited me. Our team won and the guys celebrated with another round of blowjobs.

One day I was commiserating to one of the girls about how horny I was and mentioned how badly I wanted to get fucked. She looked at me odd and then mentioned that I could if I found a guy. She said the bar had a special room just for that and I gawked at her. All this time and I had no idea.

"Well, it's not like we're going to announce that we are going up to get slammed," she laughed, "and it is important to understand that they are still clients, even though they aren't paying you anything. This isn't a brothel after all. But if the mood strikes you, you can ask a guy if he wants to have you. Remember, not a romantic romp with your boyfriend, but sometimes getting a quickie is just what a girl needs. Plus you can only do it once a month."

My mind spun all night. Now I was focused on getting fucked, but by whom? I had my regulars, if I used one of them would they expect a repeat performance afterwards? Should I roll the dice with a random tourist? I worked that day with a new goal, trying to figure out who to invite. I eventually decided to use one of my regulars. Adam was hot, had a big, thick cock and was very strong. I decided to try him. Unfortunately the next time he came in was with a friend, so I didn't have the opportunity to ask him, it would have been too obvious. I did manage to whisper in his ear that next time he should come alone.

The next day he showed up alone. We cuddled in the chair in our usual pre-blowjob ritual and I asked him to fuck me. He made a show of checking his watch keeping me in suspense before agreeing. I went to the manager to get the key, and he grilled me to make sure that I had been the one asking. Guys were forbidden from asking girls, a rule I didn't even know existed. I assured him it was all my idea all the while squirming in anticipation. I gave a discreet nod from across the bar and ascended to our room.

He was moments behind and I attacked him as soon as he entered, kissing him wildly. He finally pushed me off and took control. I eagerly stripped for him and he for me. His thick cock was already hard, and I was completely ready as I lay down on the futon. He gathered my legs in his arms and began rubbing his hard cock on my pussy driving me crazy. Finally he slid into my wet pussy and I groaned in pleasure. He started going at it hard and heavy like I needed it. I was folded in half as he pounded me, his thick cock driving all thoughts out of my head as I raced towards an orgasm. Then suddenly he stopped. He started talking to me, pulling out with his question, slamming into me with my answer. He asked me dirty questions, how much I loved giving blowjobs, what kind of girl I was. I was hanging on for dear life as he teased me pouring out how horny I was. He told me to imagine being his slave getting slammed every day by him and his friends. He had me worked up into such a state that he asked if I wanted to be a slave. The thought seared my mind. I started to come as I called out yes that I wanted to be a slave that all I wanted was to get fucked and he pounded me through my orgasm. Then he flipped me over and fucked me to another one doggy style. I collapsed to the ground only my hips being held up by his iron grip as he fucked me until he came deep inside of my pussy. Then he cuddled me as we both recovered. It was amazing.

A couple weeks passed and things were normal. He continued to come in for blowjobs, I was just a well fucked girl idly waiting for the chance to do it again. Mr. Stevens came in with news that my court date was in one week. The day arrived, and I was dressed in a real outfit, a skirt suit that kind of looked like the one that had been painted on me. I had forgotten how uncomfortable bras could be. The clothes felt odd and stifling. Pantyhose were confining. The courtroom was not large but the judge, who was a woman, looked down on me from on high. The details of the case were laid out again. I was ready to apologize profusely. The judge looked over the case and then at me over her glasses.

"Do you want to be a slave?"

My belly clenched. Did I? I answered instinctively, "No, ma'am."

She checked something on her computer and then looked at me. The screen started playing. It was a video of me, naked, on my back with my feet in the air as Adam pounded me. My voice was clear as I cried out in ecstasy proclaiming I wanted to be a slave. Oddly I didn't feel distraught as I watched my freedom slip away, rather I flushed at the memory of getting fucked. I turned my distracted eyes back to the judge who issued her verdict: Slavery, for six months, credited two months for my time in the blow bar. The bailiffs came over and stripped me on the docket, then cuffed me and led me away in front of all those well-dressed people.

I was auctioned into slavery that week. As I waited a memory surfaced that the necklace I wore was also a recording device which is probably how the court found that footage. I had done myself in. I didn't feel distraught, it was only four more months. I sympathized with Mr. Stevens thinking that I should have just taken the plea deal I had been offered up front.

As I waited the attendant primped me and annotated his notes. He mentioned that my sale would help fund schools in the area and there was great hope that I would bring a good price. It kind of felt nice knowing that I would be serving my time while helping kids get a good education. Finally it was my turn, and I was led unto a dais dressed only in a slave tunic. The spotlight shone down on me alone leaving the audience in shadows. I was ordered to strip and to pose for the bidders. The bids kept on going up as I danced and squirmed for them. Finally I was sold. I was escorted off the dais, hooded, and brought into a room to be claimed by my owner for the next few months. It was time to serve my sentence.