Joanie of Zurich

I sighed and smiled after he squirted. It was a relief that it was over, but Hans took it as another sign of his masculine prowess.

He lay on top of me as his dick went soft, and finally pulled out when he was still barely hard enough to pull his flaccid dick out together with his condom. I knew he did not want to make me sloppy, since he was going to offer our bodies to his guests.

They were our bodies, and not his to offer. But he had bought us "into slavery" for $4.5million, and in the minds of Swiss bankers, we had no rights, especially not the right of refusal. Get used to it, Joanie, I silently told myself.

Hans had never even kissed either one of us. He had not pawed at our breasts. He had not tasted our nipples. For him it was just fucking as conquest and the ultimate domination.

"It's a real treat to fuck sisters," he said. "Has anyone else ever had the pleasure of fucking both of you at once?"

"No," I said. "Does sequentially count?"

"Yes," Hans said, his interest piqued. "Tell me about it, please."

I was amused that he said please. We were his slaves, naked and bound, and he had just fucked both of us without even bothering to see if we were willing. And now he was saying please. Amazing.

"Well, I guess the only time it's happened like that is with our cousins, Ramon and Carlos," I said, knowing he would like the incest angle. "However Sarah fucked my lover yesterday, so maybe you would count that, too?"

"You two ladies are really something," Hans said. "I'm not sure I even want to share you." We both smiled at him.

I said, "We won't tell if you don't. Let us go, and you can fuck us both tomorrow night and every other night we are in Zurich. In the mornings we will blow you to wake you up. We'll dance naked for you."

"You have Megan and the prostitutes for the party. We will do our utmost to please you if you let us go now. How's that?" I concluded.

"Tempting. Very tempting," Hans replied. "But alas, it would not be right. I have great plans for you tonight. You will have one hell of a time. It will be fun to watch."

I did not like the sound of that. With that he got himself all properly dressed again, and left the room. He told the servants nobody is to go near the two of us without wearing a condom.

We lay there alone in the room, both naked, bound and spread eagled on the two beds. After a while we drifted off to sleep. The gentle rocking of the yacht, and the soft, barely audible splash of the water along the side of the boat served as soporifics.

We were on a boat on a lake and there was absolutely no chance someone was going to save us. We had to take whatever was coming.

I did not blame this on Philip, but actually, I was rapidly becoming a big fan of not being the girlfriend of a banker. This was a life I did not want. These men were all monsters.

Bound in our room, I awoke from my fitful nap when I heard the boom of the base of a sound system. I surmised the party had begun. If I strained I could hear voices and laughter, both men and women. The call girls, I thought to myself.

I quickly gave Sarah instructions, warning her of what I thought was to come. Eight servants entered our room; they wheeled our beds into a large room where the music was blaring and people were mingling. The beds were turned vertically, so our bound, naked bodies were now on display for the entire room.

I could see Sarah blush. We were not accustomed to be being naked in front of so many people. And not only were we naked, we were bound on a bed with our legs spread wide: a suggestive pose, to say the obvious.

Some of the call girls were dressed; others were in various states of partial dress. A few were already topless. Megan was there, now fully dressed again and chatting happily to one of the pigs, as I thought of them.

The music stopped and Hans took the stage. He asked Megan to come on stage, right in front of us, as if we were not there. He also invited a black man on stage.

I recognized his face from the newspapers; he was a leader of a terrorist organization that kidnapped and raped women in central Africa, also killing their men. Even given my opinion of these men as bottom dwelling scum, I was nevertheless surprised he was a guest here.

Then I thought: Why should I be surprised? Terrorist leaders need to put their money in banks, too. Who better to service them than the Swiss, who in the 1930s and 1940s provided banking services for the Nazis?

Poor Megan was around 25 years old, and reasonably innocent and sweet. Her only crime was to have a boyfriend who was a banker and a friend and colleague of Klaus. Hans had two servants undress Megan in front of the crowd.

My guess is that only a few men, all boyfriends in intimate situations, had ever before seen Megan naked. This is normal with most other women, I should think. It's us exhibitionists who are different.

Megan was not prepared to be suddenly stripped naked in front of all of these men (and the call girls, too). It was clear she was panicked and did not know what to do. The servants were not bankers, and were capable of empathy. They smiled at her and were gentle and slow, giving her slightly more time to adjust mentally to the situation.

Being slow in undressing her, plus her clear dismay, shame, and embarrassment, sexually aroused the men in the audience, I could tell. That they loved dominating women was clear to me.

When Megan was naked with no place to hide, she tried to cover herself with her hands. This is a natural thing to do, but of course it was doomed. Hans signaled the servants, and they tied her hands behind her. Megan turned beet red and tried to turn around. She was prevented from doing that, too.

Poor Megan. All her reactions were natural and normal, and were also doomed. Hans came on stage and handed her panties to the African man. He smelled them, and nodded.

Megan looked alarmed, and she showed fear. I did not blame her; the man's eyes were the coldest eyes I had ever seen. They were eyes of death; there was no mercy in them. None. But still, she should not have shown fear.

"Who wants to join for this cute little treat?" Hans announced. "You all know the rules." Of course this kind of young, terrified, modest woman appealed to these rich and powerful men, who wanted nothing more (besides more money and power) than to dominate other people in general, but especially women.

Two men came up on the stage and gave some sort of special tokens to Hans. He smiled and took them. One of the men embraced Megan and kissed her. His hands were all over her.

Megan was not stupid. This she understood. She reached down for his cock, right there on the stage in front of everyone. She pumped it a few times with her hand, as she kissed him.

Then Hans pulled them apart, and the second man gave and received the same treatment. Megan seemed actually to be enjoying this part of the exhibitionist display. She was getting with the program. Good for her, I thought.

The three men left with Megan. Ten or so minutes later I heard her scream. It was a blood-curdling scream. Hans ran off, and then reappeared, flustered, and announced, "Will the doctor come now? Quickly, please."

I later learned Megan had been badly cut when she did not fellate the African man the way he liked it. Being a good Catholic girl (unlike Sarah and me, who had committed every sexual sin the Catholic church could imagine, it seemed), she had never sucked a cock before, and she did not know how. She knew how to give a hand job and how to fuck, that was clear. Her mistake was not to hide her teeth.

If this had not been in Zurich, the terrorist chief would have killed her for that crime. I'm sure he has killed unfortunately women in Africa for just such a mistake. Indeed, I'm sure many women have died at his hand. As it was, he almost did kill her. Her scream saved her.

This sobered us up pretty quickly and Sarah and I requested and received another large Scotch whiskey. Servants helped us to drink it, since we could not use our hands. As we were there, vertical and chained to our beds, men came on stage and gave tokens to Hans. Ten men came on stage.

A man began to kiss me. Another began to kiss Sarah. Our breasts were fondled and our cunts were fingered. They all took turns. It was an orderly procedure. Bankers, especially these bankers, are an orderly bunch.

Everyone else watched us, unless they were too busy with the whores of Zurich. We took no comfort in any of it.

Then Hans said something to the servants, and our beds were made horizontal, still on the stage. The men were given condoms, and the music started again. With the crowd mingling in front of us, I turned my head to the side and saw that one of the call girls was now naked, and she was being fucked. She started sucking off another man as the one fucking her increased the tempo.

The orgy had started. Man one climbed on top of me. As I had told Sarah, make the best of it, and try your damnedest to enjoy it. I said to Man One, whom I did not know at all, "I'm glad you're the first." I knew everyone not busy with a whore was watching Sarah and me get fucked.

He seemed surprised by my words, but also pleased. He kissed me, and I kissed back with a little passion, forcing my tongue into his mouth. This too surprised him. Instead of just sticking it in me, he decided to make love and went down on me. He fondled my breasts lovingly, and only then, when I was good and wet, did he enter me. Moreover he gently fucked me, trying to please me.

I gave very sign of enjoying the fuck, and was quite noisy, too, making him feel macho. I actually did get into it, especially because everyone was surprised I was not protesting or at least grimacing. Most of the crowd was watching us go at it. I do love an audience, and I had this one in the palms of my tightly bound hands.

My pelvis rose to meet his thrusts, as much as the bonds would allow. I matched his every move. My breasts were heaving and became covered with small beads of sweat. I don't know what he paid to fuck me, but I tried hard to give him his money's worth.

I later learned a token was worth $10,000. That was a lot of money to pay to fuck two sisters. I know it is sick, but I felt flattered and desired by someone paying that much just to fuck Sarah and me publicly.

I could feel his cock inside me, filling me up. When his cock stimulated my clit, I cried out, "Oh yes, right there! Again!" My breathing became uneven.

Next to me, as we had planned, Sarah was doing the same thing with her pig. She made him feel macho and as if he were the best fuck of her young life. She was so convincing, I thought maybe in fact he was? After all, she had just confessed to me she was not nearly as experienced as I had thought.

Sarah was kissing his chest as he fucked her. He mauled her breasts and she said, "Oh yes. Just like that. I love it, you bastard. Fuck me harder!" I wanted to say, great job, Sarah. But of course I did not.

We made every one of those ten men feel special. It was not easy. All ten men fucked both of us. When they were all done, I said to them, "Well guys, I hoped you enjoyed us." They smiled and applauded us.

Sarah said, "Forgive us for not bowing. Try us another time, when we have some freedom of movement." Fortunately they all laughed. I was worried it was a mistake for her to have said that. Maybe they would indeed untie us and try us again! That did not happen, thank goodness.

Each fuck lasted an average of 20 minutes, so we had now been fucked constantly for around three hours. My cunt was so sore if anyone had touched it I would have screamed.

I figured 5 hours had elapsed. We had 19 hours to go. We were not going to make it. But of course we did make it. I can tell you a few more things about that day and night on the yacht; it is too painful to tell everything.

At the end of the gangbang I had to pee. They untied me, and walked me over to one of the pigs. I had to squat over him and urinate onto his face. When I was done, I had to lie down, and he urinated onto my face. This was beyond gross. It took all my might, and all my will, to keep smiling during these two urinations. But I did, and that saved me.

It was actually worse. When he peed on my face, two other men saw him doing it, and they added their own urine streams. I amused myself by studying closely how pee looks as it leaves a man's flaccid cock. One guy's pee came down on me with force; after a while, I slowly realized he was aiming for my mouth, so I opened it for him and caught a fair amount of his pee.

The man loved this. He gave me a big smile, and then lay on top of me and gave me an open mouth kiss. I still had his pee in my mouth since I was not eager to swallow it, so I moved as much as possible into his mouth. He swallowed it. He liked that.

When we were done, he looked at me with a look as if he were about to propose marriage. After all, I had just given him a good fuck (along with nine other men, and in public to boot), perhaps even a very good fuck judging by his reaction when he came inside me, and then I had acted as if I enjoyed him peeing into my mouth.

How could he ever find a better woman? This man needed psychological help, and thank goodness that was not my job.

The story about poop is even worse. I promised myself never to tell it, never even to think about it again. Trust me, I am doing you a favor by not relating it in all of its glory, so to speak. I will however tell you this much: I had to squat and to poop above a man's face while he was lying on his back below me. A piece of glass protected his face from the poop.

These men has specialized perversions. The poop guy was different from the urine guy. Jesus Christ, I thought.

It's what they did with my poop when I was done that I will spare you. I let them do it and smiled the whole time. Let's just say that some people are stranger than I could ever have imagined. That's their problem. It's not for me to judge. But of course I do indeed judge. How could I not?

Having me squat and pee and later squat and poop above a man's face were new kinds of violations of my privacy. I had never even imagined such scatological perversions. I was horrified and humiliated, and also managed to give absolutely no sign of being so. I was proud of my accomplishment, because believe you me, it was a major accomplishment.

After the massive gangbang, they untied us, moved the beds back to the small room, and they let us rest. We both fell asleep. A few hours later Hans came in and said the party is still going on. We will serve you breakfast, and then we would like you to go on stage again and do a strip tease. Your clothes are here, in the closet.

I asked him how Megan was doing, and his face clouded over. He told me she had been sent to the hospital in Zurich but he had not yet heard. I asked had it been a serious wound, and he nodded yes, and said, "Quite." I did not push him for more information, and let it drop.

He did add that the man who did it was no longer at the party or on his yacht. I noticed he did not say the man was under arrest. I learned later he had left the country after "the incident."

For our breakfast we were served coffee, orange juice, yogurt, breakfast meat, muesli, and bread with butter or jam. I had coffee and a little yogurt. Sarah ate more; she was hungry. We both used the bathroom and tried to make ourselves presentable, and then we dressed. Fixing my hair was a challenge. While doing this we discussed strategy.

I asked Sarah if she thought her cunt was okay to resume servicing these pigs. She said yes. I also asked what she had thought of the massive gangbang.

Sarah said, "I know from college that all the boys want to fuck anyone wearing a skirt, and that probably I could get laid by a different guy every day of the week if I wanted. But still I was surprised so many men wanted to fuck me, especially one after the other. As you have said before, these are powerful and rich men; they are not drunken fraternity boys."

"Are we that desirable, or are they just horny? Why us and not the call girls? I just have a lot of questions, actually."

"Do you want my thoughts?" I asked. She said yes, and nodded vigorously.

I said, "I think it's several things:

1)We are young and pretty, but of course so are most call girls.

2)We are precisely not call girls, but presumably the girlfriends of their colleagues: someone else's women, and they like that. It's like men who like to fuck the wives of their friends; it makes them feel powerful.

3)They like to humiliate and degrade women; they are misogynists. The ones who are not do not pay $25,000 to come to a party like this one.

4)And finally, we are sisters, and who ever gets the chance to fuck sisters back to back? It's a different matter why that is appealing to them. In any event probably it would have been even better if we had been identical twins. (I thought of our mother and our aunt, my mother's twin, and their sordid youth.) It would be better still if we had been three triplets."

"Wow, Joanie. That's fast thinking. It makes sense. Thanks. Next question: How do we go about this strip tease. Any ideas?" I told her my plan. She liked it.

Sarah asked one more question: "Why do they want us to do a strip tease? They have seen us completely naked, and ten of them have even already very publicly fucked each of us. Everyone got to watch, unless they were willingly distracted by fucking a whore."

I said, "They've been here a long time, and it will help them to get aroused again. Lots of Viagra also helps, and I'm sure many of them are already in a Viagra-induced haze; but this works only after their libidos are stimulated. Plus it is degrading to us to have to entertain them that way, and they like it precisely because it's degrading. It reinscribes sexual objectification."

Sarah said, "You learned all that in college, didn't you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

I said, "Sarah, you should sign up for a feminist theory class."

"You betcha," Sarah replied. "After this experience, how could I not?"

Two servants came into the room to escort us to the stage. We smiled at the assembled men and they all cheered. We had become popular, as word of what good sports we were during the horrific gangbang, plus the scatological offenses, had spread. We could be humiliated, degraded, sexually objectified and cruelly used, and yet we were still smiling.

Hans jumped up onto the stage. He said, "For your entertainment, the Harley sisters have graciously agreed to perform a strip tease. Start the music, please." Again I was amused by his choice of diction. Slaves do not agree; they are told.

Hans did not have any bump and grind music. It was one of his few, perhaps his only, planning lapse for this party. I suggested music from the Rolling Stones, and fortunately he had that. It had a nice beat to it.

As we planned, Sarah and I began to dance. We each pulled a man up onto the stage to dance with us. The servants kept other men from joining on stage. We told the men to slowly unbutton my, and unzip Sarah's, suit tops. Once we had removed them, the men were to stroke our boobs through our blouses. They were then to leave the stage.

They did that, and we turned our backs to the crowd, and removed our suit tops. A servant ran out to take them; it was like he was a ball boy at a tennis match. We turned around and the men stroked our boobs through our blouses, and the other men cheered.

We took a little bow and shooed the men off the stage. We each turned our back and slowly removed our blouses. Again a "ball boy" came to take our blouses off stage. I stopped him and kept him there. I grabbed his cock and stroked it through his pants, and asked him to remove Sarah's bra, but slowly, please.