Lawyer Ravished and Enslaved Ch. 05

Chapter 17 - Back to Sex work

Monsieur, we are now to the period three months after I was gang raped in my office and enslaved. I had gone through various trainings as to how to become a good sex worker and to break all mental resistance to devoting my life to pleasing customers sexually and myself to the extent that was possible. I'd had a month of being sold off mainly to men who had a grudge against me due to my prior work as a divorce lawyer and had had another public gangbang followed by receiving numerous piercing in the most intimate places in front of a crowd.

I had a week of no sex following the multiple piercings, Before the end of that week, I had to admit to myself that I was eager for sex again. It had become my life. Maybe it was sex addiction. Maybe it was just that sex was all of what I was allowed to enjoy in life. In the Pleasure Palace, there was no social life, no interesting food, no television and no movies, just an occasional newspaper. A computer tablet lent to me that had access to a local newspaper, and coffee in the employee lounge was not a life. As the philosopher wrote, "A single sentence will suffice for modern man. He fornicated and read the papers." But that was written 60 years ago and, in that week of healing following the piercings, I wasn't even fornicating.

Tucker began to give me a few books. The books at first all concerned sex with women finding fulfillment by being completely submissive to men. I knew what Tucker was doing but there was nothing else to read. I was bored out of my mind. So, I read the books he gave me.

Soon, I was mainly thinking about how good it would be to have a cock up my pussy again. I told myself first that I should not give in to just being a sex toy. Next, I told myself that there was no reason not to give in to just be a sex toy. Damn it, my life had been remade and I was now pretty much a sex toy, well, that and soon a breeding animal.

If I'd needed the reminder of my status, the nipple and clitoral hood piercings further reminded me of sex all the time. I know that there is nothing wrong with women getting piercings but the piercings had a serious psychological effect on me. They were done to me, not because I asked. My body was an object that had been decorated for the pleasure and profit of others. Also, the piercings focused my mind on my body below the waist at a time when I was already feeling like my brain was just there to support my breasts and genitals.

The Pleasure Palace started me out after the week of healing with guys taking me anally doggy style. They had me wear a bra so my breasts would not jiggle too much and guys would not finger my nipples. Given the week of abstinence, I loved it. Later, the Pleasure Palace had me taking cocks into my vagina doggy style. Before the four weeks I was supposed to be healing from the piercings were over, I was deliberately getting guys to take me from the front so I could feel the metal in my clitoral hood against my clitoris.

Niki said that I had healed faster than most. She told guys they could do anything they wanted except directly play with my piercings. I took to trying to get everyone to let me be on top cowgirl style and was having even more orgasms than I had had before.

Tucker said that a bit of reading was not hurting my sex drive. The fact that everything I was allowed to read other than the newspapers concerned sex probably had an impact. When I read that a whole college varsity cheerleading squad had volunteered to enter Dick's Delight to be pleasure providers, I was cheering for the squad although I knew that something untoward had probably occurred. Mentally, it was the strangest time of my life.

Then I read of a small plane crash involving a cameraman from Channel 67, another cameraman and a man identified as their supervisor. The men were identified along with their pictures. My Heavens, the two cameramen were the guys who had filmed my initial rapes for Channel 67. The third guy I was pretty sure was the guy that was at my office as Mayor Murphy's bodyguard.

Three of the 12 guys directly involved in my enslavement were now dead. Also, Sturmer had disappeared. No one would acknowledge he ever existed.

But things became still stranger. I'd noticed in past weeks that the little comments on the newspaper Internet articles were about as important as the articles. Several anonymous comments said that the third man, the guy I was pretty sure was Mayor Murphy's bodyguard, was the notorious Thinker who had come up with the idea for Kroesek of kidnapping prominent women for profit and masterminded the kidnappings.

There were many things wrong here. The papers had not printed any comment suggesting that women had been kidnapped for months. So why was it suddenly ok to print a comment saying that the guy who had come up with the kidnapping scheme was dead? Much more importantly, I knew that the third guy was not Sturmer.

Mayor Murphy threw more dust in the air during another one of his ridiculous press conferences. Someone asked if the Thinker was dead. The Mayor said he'd never heard of a Thinker but he had heard it said that a part of Kroesek's body had a mind of its own. Perhaps, Mayor Murphy said, that was the thinker of popular imagination.

Chapter 18 - Another two months of extreme sex

With piercings done and healed and mentally totally wired for sex, I spent the next two months in a blur of fucking. Alice Wissen gave me some explanation of my situation saying that it had been decided that the way I could make the most money for the Pleasure Palace was to have my brains fucked out for the next two months with me then being taken off contraceptives and given to Dickerson for impregnation. She emphasized her distaste for the plans saying that if she had it her way, I'd go immediately to "that idiot Dickerson" so that the obligation to him could be fulfilled and I could begin being bred properly. Wissen added that the Pleasure Palace was compensating Dickerson and Spencer's Helpers for the delay. I only learned the details regarding Dr. Linos much later.

The routine established the first month with me getting up at 11:00, eating, exercising, napping, eating and then having sex until early the next morning was renewed in high gear. With my "month of atonement" over, only infrequently was the customer taking revenge on me for my past sins as a lawyer. But, I was working as much as possible as a sex machine for customers and a cash cow for the Kroesek organization.

Most of those months I was sort of fuck drunk. When I thought about it, it seemed as though the phase "fucking her brains out" could literally be true. It had happened to me.

Alice Wissen would have nothing to do with me those two months. Oddly Tucker, a man I thought was one of the main henchmen at my kidnapping, seemed to be trying to help me maintain some balance. He started slipping me books that were not just about sex and submission. Tucker was disappointed that I did not immediately read the two thin books (the Little Prince and Einstein's Dreams) that he managed to slip me by sticking them under my mattress.

Temporarily, I had lost the will to be anything but be a sex slave. I told myself that it was good that my mental aspirations now matched what I could do in life. It wasn't a matter of me resigning myself to becoming a mindless bimbo; it was a matter of resigning myself to reality.

I was partially jolted out of my fuck drunk stupor by a customer who had been unusually considerate. He had bought use of me for the whole night although from his clothing it did not seem that was something within his price range. Having awoken in the night thinking about a college course for which there was soon to be an exam for which I'd not studied, I began wondering if there was any meaning to anything and whether I could do anything about anything. I became aware the customer was awake also. Like a good sex slave, I began to invite more sex. He said that he'd rather ask a few little questions before more sex.

He asked me first whether I had decided on my own to dedicate my life to being a sex worker at the Pleasure Palace.

I feared it might be a trap but at the same time did not think that the managers cared what I told anyone anymore. So, I told the truth. I had been raped, kidnapped and enslaved. The customer said something to the effect that that was what most people in the City of Orange thought who had half a brain. Most of the population, though, did not have half a brain and many of the people with half a brain did not care to think about what had happened or were too busy profiting from it.

I asked him why he had guessed I was taken against my will when there was so much evidence of me being happy as a sex slave. He said it was hard to believe that a successful lawyer would suddenly decide to become a sex worker. He said also that he'd been told by a cameraman of the filming of my gang rape in my office and of making a movie three months later in which I was taken by 10 guys before receiving a lot of piercings. The cameraman said that he was very impressed by my coolness and intelligence during the first filming and that it seemed like I was in some sort of trance during the second session. The customer said, the cameraman had just died in a plane crash along with a couple of the other people that the cameraman said had been in my office.

There was not much more to say so we had sex again, slept an hour and my routine continued as before. But something had snapped back in my head. It wasn't that my indoctrination had suddenly evaporated. I was still scared to death of dying in solitary confinement and still wired to associate sex with my only happiness. I realized, though, that I had not been given any sort of injection that turned me into a mindless bimbo. I was still a human being with a brain.

After the considerate customer left, I immediately read the books that Tucker had hid in my bed and started to think about what it would be like to be free again. While I could not possibly escape, I could learn more about what was going on in the world and maybe take a chance if an opportunity for change came. In the meantime, fuck on.

I could not ask too many questions of Alice, Niki or Tucker without provoking suspicion. I started encouraging customers to talk more about what was going on outside.

Given that they had all paid to have sex with me, the customers naturally had few complaints about the current power relationships between the sexes in Orange. What was later seen by many to have been a plague was seen by the customers as a rebirth of a golden era when men were men and women were obscene but not heard.

With little provocation from me, one guy came right out and said that things were going in Orange just as things should. The mayor and the skilled businessmen who ran the brothels had made women great again. Women now, he explained, were either mothers or whores except for the women who were not smart or pretty enough to become mothers or whores who were either cleaning toilets, doing laundry or just being bred to make more people to become washer women, day laborers and cannon fodder.

He looked at me, became momentarily embarrassed, and backtracked slightly saying that maybe his explanation was a bit too simple. He allowed that there were also beautiful whores who were fabulous whores but too special not to be used for breeding. I kind of thanked him for his honesty and started sucking on his cock, which seemed the best way to make sure I did not say anything.

Another guy boasted of how things were so good for men that he could tell his wife he was going to a brothel, and she should think about what to make him for breakfast. If the breakfast was good enough, maybe he'd fuck her later.

I have no way of knowing what proportion of the men in the city were quite so crass. Also, I have to emphasize that guys who were rich enough to pay to have sex with me and who wanted to do that were not a random sample. Poor men and men dissatisfied with what society had become would not be with me in the Pleasure Palace.

What I really wanted to know was if there was any kind of resistance to Mayor Murphy, the mobsters, The Church, or Spencer's Helpers, who collectively were running things now. A few bits and pieces came to me from certain customers.

One customer who was a sociology professor at Orange City University, decided he wanted to give me a nipple orgasm. I had heard of such things during my course at Fuck U. but I had not had such a strange request from a customer before. Naturally, most guys were a whole lot more focused on getting orgasms themselves.

He began very gently and persistently working long fingernails across my nipples. At first, it was a little like chalk on a blackboard but soon I started to feel an irritating yet pleasurable sensation that spread from my breasts to my brain and my genitals. A bit later, it seemed like a spark ran from the metal in my nipples to the metal in my clitoral hood to my g-spot, back to my clit and through my whole torso. I had a strange but intense orgasm.

After I regained composure, I asked him where he learned that. He said that he'd heard about it on television and his wife had asked him to do it to her. She was now pregnant. They had decided not to have children but decided recently they had better do so given what he gingerly referred to as the "political and social situation."

He added that educated women like me deciding to become full time sex workers had caused a lot more well off, educated men to decide it was ok to go to the brothels. It was not like they were exploiting some poor woman who did not have any choices. Also, with more well off, educated men going to the brothels, it seemed there was a lot more interest in diverse sexual practices than before, at least among professionals. Previously, most professors, doctors and lawyers seemed to think that anything more than once a month in the missionary position made one some sort of sex fiend.

He said that some were trying to sugarcoat the pressure for educated women to have more sex and produce more babies by making sex more fun. Alice Wissen was stressing how rewarding it was to do one's womanly duty. Wissen was no longer alone in pushing hot sex for impregnation. Three or four women now were sounding like Wissen on television and elsewhere. Also, while the clubs for professional women to advance their careers were gone, there were more women's clubs that focused solely on how to have fun getting pregnant and during pregnancy.

I suggested that some people must be bucking these trends. He said that women working outside the home were keeping a low profile because of silly rumors that women like me and others had been kidnapped and enslaved. He said also that the women of The Church did not generally embrace taking pleasure in sex although he'd heard that Solomon Whyte and his son were getting a bit more liberal. Whyte Jr. embraced the "it's fun to do your duty" idea saying that God had given women orgasms to reward them for being fruitful and it was only later that atheist perverts had separated sex from pregnancy.

I asked whether everyone was ok with the idea that a woman's place is just for sex and breeding? He allowed not everyone was happy but no one was dissenting publicly.

Professors like to talk but I felt at that point that if I showed any more curiosity about the world he'd realize I was groping for information. I was not going to suggest that I had been kidnapped to a customer who had not suggested that first and I was not going to point out the Orwellian contradictions in what he said. I and other women in prestigious positions had supposedly decided to become sex workers out of the blue of our own free will, but people like he and his wife were deciding to have children so that his wife would not volunteer to become a breeding whore? Also, the time he was spending with me was time he was not spending with her.

I had seen Ray Hohn in the lobby of the Pleasure Palace the first week I was put into duty as a sex worker. I knew Ray, a lawyer who'd been on the other side of me on numerous cases, was very well connected. Rumors of dishonesty, hypocrisy, viciousness, pederasty, and sexual harassment had gone around regarding Hohn before I was kidnapped. I knew he did work for Mayor Murphy, Kroesek and other shady characters. I had no doubt that he knew exactly how I'd come to be in the Pleasure Palace available for purchase for $1000 per hour or whatever the rate was. He was intent, though, on proving that I had really gotten what I wanted, or at least what I deserved.

He started by greeting me as "Slutcy" in the lobby. He had asked I meet him nude. He walked me to the elevator after having me smile and shake my breasts for the people in the lobby. He went on to screw me anally over one of the solid wooden tables in one of the Torture and Abuse rooms. I dutifully acted like it was the most terrible thing in the world when he entered me and had an orgasm with his dick up my ass and his thumb rubbing my clit.

I assumed Hohn was going to be one of the easy anal guys. Then he said that he had bought me for the night and was going to see how many orgasms a whore like me could have in an evening. Yes, Monsieur, I know, as I said, it is unusual for a man to concentrate on a woman's orgasms but for Ray it was a power thing. Without him coming out and saying it, he wanted to show that my body and mind were toys that he could control with his manly powers. I had no choice but to go along with the game, particularly as my condition, training, piercings, and fears left me with no power of resistance.

I had to sit on a Sybian while he had a nice long break watching me spasm on the machine. Then he had me lie on the table back and took me in something like a missionary position with my back on hard wood, his cock rubbing my g-spot long and his pelvis pushing the metal in my VCH piercing into my clitoris. I lost track of my orgasms, had his semen in my vagina, and wished for god's sake he'd just let me rest.

He started to put more lubricant up both of my holes when I suggested that maybe he'd like a nice long blowjob. Instead he sat down and said for me to sit again on the Sybian and let it rip into me until he was ready to fuck me again. The orgasms were momentarily pleasurable but they showed no sign of ending. I thought both of the women who have difficulty having an orgasm and those who have a rare syndrome, persistent genital arousal disorder, that causes them to have a hundred orgasms a day for no reason. I did not fall in either category although I had many more and stronger orgasms than I had when I was young and before I had had my mind and body forcibly focused on my breasts and pussy.

The orgasms were not going to kill me, at least not directly. With all the exercise and careful diet, I was as healthy as a horse. While I would not die of orgasms, I thought I could die of a heart attack or sheer exhaustion, like a horse run to death. I wondered what Tucker was doing. He was supposed to be monitoring to make sure I did not get hurt. Didn't dying of exhaustion count as getting hurt?

I had no choice but to beg for mercy. I broke down, said he won, I could not take anymore and jokingly asked if he could not just tell me how the Sharks, our hometown basketball team, was doing, I promised that if I ever faced him in court again I'd throw the case in his favor immediately and wondered aloud how he was doing with his client the Mayor.

He answered that the Sharks sucked, and Mayor Murphy was doing well. He added that he was not there to educate me but to prove that I'd always been a slut and that Kroesek had done me a favor by bringing my ass where it always belonged.