Letters to Him Pt. 05

10.8.2023

Dear Sir,

It's been a busy stressful week. I know you understand what that does to me. It's been exceedingly difficult to control my needs as the pressure mounted this week and I've not been a very good girl. I've touched myself numerous times without permission and have had so many wicked thoughts that have driven so many even more wicked feelings in my body.

I'm sorry, Sir. The stress makes my urges virtually uncontrollable. This fantasy has been festering and growing all week. I'm going to share it with you with the full understanding that ultimately, you will take the actions you feel best suit my trespasses.

"FUCK YOU, MARIA!!!" 

God damn, people in this city are rude. I don't know who Maria is, but she's clearly pissed someone off.

Still, it's a beautiful day to stroll the promenade and I have a couple hours to be frivolous before the Executive's meeting. I've never been here before, but I've heard all about the lovely sites and high-end stores around the company headquarters. I sort of feel like Mary Tyler Moore in the opening scene of her eponymous show where she tosses her beret with joie de vivre and a broad

smile.

The only glitch thus far in my day has been a small snag in my stocking. So, with time to kill and the thrill of making myself nearly puke over the excesses of the rich, I join the cadre of apparent supermodels heading into Saks Fifth Avenue. Between them, they've probably spent more on botox and rhinoplasty than I've made in the past 10 years. That's not being catty, it's just the God honest truth.

I get a few side eyes as I walk around the store. Fucking snobs. But, there is one overly gracious customer service lady who is more than happy to help me. Thank goodness! She makes small talk with me and I tell her I have a gala coming up this weekend. I don't, but I tell her that anyway. She's more than a little excited to help me try on designer dresses. So, I figure, what the hell?

She pulls four for me - all absolutely exquisite! Valentino, Simon, Oscar, and Roberto - each one more beautiful than the next. I won't lie, I felt like a princess trying them on. Nevertheless, I'm not blowing three months' pay on a dress I'll never wear. I thank Stephania and tell her I'll just take the stockings for now. As she's handing me my receipt, she leans in and asks me quietly, "Which one did you like the best?" I thought for a moment that she was really invested in her job and replied, "They were all so amazing." She seemed positively giddy over this response. Snobby people are strange.

A few more odd glances as I leave the store and head to HQ. 

"Get out of our town, Cartier Cunt!!!" another passerby shouts from across the street. "Holy shit," I'm thinking to myself. What is going on in this town? I'm keeping my head down as I walk so as to not appear to be associated with whomever that vitriol was aimed at. 

Upon entering the office building I head to the appointed room and greet my colleagues, all in town for the same meeting. The secretary comes in to tell us the Big Dog had a flat tire heading in and to begin the meeting. He'll join via his phone once the AAA road service people get him fixed up.

The meeting proceeds accordingly and all goes fine, as I expected it would. Nothing major here. Some strategic planning, discussion of new partnership... probably shit that could have been accomplished from home over Zoom. But, it is nice to see my colleagues and I recognize the benefit of getting us all together in the same room now and then.

That evening, my long-time friend and colleague, Dan and I went out to dinner. He is literally the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Women nearly walk into lamp posts when he breezes past them. Young girls cherries pop spontaneously when he smiles in their direction. He is THAT beautiful. And, in one of life's cruelest twists of fate, he's also 110% gay.

So, we find a quaint Italian restaurant and order veal (that was prepared wonderfully) and fine wine. I'm enjoying my meal when the waiter 'accidentally' trips and spills a glass of water in my lap. As this happens another patron walks by, muttering under his breath, "Maybe that'll cool her cootchie." What the actual fuck? He's gay, people!

I'm getting really aggravated with this town. Dan and I finish our meal and say our good-byes. I stop into the coffee shop next door to grab some hot tea to go and I try to hail a cab. I say 'try' because at least 4 slowed down for me then sped away once they got close. Finally, a female cabbie picked me up and took me to my hotel. Yet another bizarro experience. All the way, she's telling me about her disdain for local sports and how attractive she finds certain celebrities. Thankfully, it's a short ride to the hotel. I really don't need to hear anymore about her personal life, who she wishes she could fuck, and who she wishes would fuck off.

As I'm stepping out of the cab, the sleeve slips off my to-go cup. On the cup, under the sleeve, the barista had written "Cartier Cunt." Was *I* Cartier Cunt?  What does that even mean?

Back in the hotel, past the lascivious glances of bellboys and business men, I find my way to the elevator. I'm relieved to be alone in the car and the moment of respite it provides from this particularly strange day. The relief is short-lived, though, as the car fills on the next floor with drunken party boys. They file in, recognition lighting their faces, and they circle around me, erupting in cheers of "Cartier Cunt!" They start pumping their pelvises in my direction and making the pussy eating, tongue between their V-fingers at me. It's scaring me and I'm ready to exit the elevator. Thankfully, I'm able to escape before anything with them escalates further. I hear their hooting and hollering long after the doors close.

Finally, I get to my room and flip on the TV as I strip the clothes and strange day from my body. The local news personnel are reciting the weather for the upcoming days. After a brief commercial break, the sports guys come on. The top story - again - they report, is the fall of the local sports team and the complete disintegration of the beloved star player whom they now realize, found out just hours before the biggest match of his career, that his wife, Maria, had cheated on him. The sportscasters go on and on about the ramifications of Hot Rod's downfall and how the poor man has been devastated - first by the revelation of his wife's rampant infidelity and second by the humiliating loss of their game. As they switch back to the regular news people they recount the immense impact Rod's blowing the game has had on the local economy and townspeople's spirits. It seems everyone feels for poor Rod and despises, with the red hot flames of hell, his soon-to-be ex-wife, Maria. 

I'm dumbstruck. It seems a stupid story to me to begin with since I'm not a fan of sportsball of any sort. But, when they flashed Maria's picture on the screen, I realized she could be my identical twin. Thirty minutes later, after falling down the rabbit hole of Google, Reddit, and YouTube searching every story and comment I could find about Maria, my day starts to make sense. Apparently, they all think I'm Maria. Maria, who has evidently slept with every billionaire in the country along with a handful of the most handsome Hollywood leading men. Hence, the nickname. That's what Stephania meant when she asked me which one I liked the best.

I can't wait to leave this town. One quick stop at the office HQ in the morning and I'm getting on a plane post-haste. 

Fuck the cabbies, I play it smart this morning and I call an Uber. A black SUV picks me up right away. Hopefully, he doesn't watch the news.

There are no words exchanged between us. But, at each stop light, he's frantically texting on his phone. We drive for a few more minutes and I'm not recognizing my surroundings.

"Excuse me, Sir, I'm not sure we're heading in the right direction." No reply and I'm getting scared. The doors are locked and the child safety lock is in place. I can't do anything.

We head out of town for about 15 more minutes and I'm pleading for him to let me out. Every word out of my mouth falls on deaf ears. Finally, we get to an automobile body shop and he opens the door for me and tugs my arm, pulling me into a garage bay. I'm begging him to let me go, telling him I'm not who he thinks I am. He's got my arms pinned behind my back when another man enters the bay. 

"Gag this bitch. I can't stand the sound of her fucking voice." I'm screaming and struggling with all my might, but they're big guys and my arms are being bent in unnatural positions. The second one puts a ball gag in my mouth and fastens it tightly around my head. "String her up."

My wrists are bound above my head and lifted on some sort of wench. Man #2 tears my blouse open, reaches around to my back and unfastens my bra. In the meantime Man #1 has left and returned with utility scissors. He cuts my bra straps, pulls it from my body, and tosses it aside. Then he gruffly hikes my skirt up and cuts the panties from my body. "Save those, I'll bet we can get a shit ton for them."

"How much money did you lose 'cause of this bitch, Mikey?"

"Three grand. Tommy lost two. I'll bet we make it all back and more tonight, though."

"Yeah. Did you call ahead?"

"Yeah."

My mind raced. I wanted to scream, "I'm not Maria!" but no one was listening, anyway.

They loaded me into the back seat of the SUV onto some sort of platform that made my supine body level with the windows. The corners were rounded off like half-moons. My legs were splayed and along with my arms, fastened to the sides of the thing. My eyes darted around the car in wild terror, but I could make no more than gurgling sounds through the gag.

The two men in the front seat drove for about 30 minutes and pulled into something that looked like an airplane hangar. I heard them get out and a crowd that sounded like hundreds of men began cheering.

Man #1 shouted, "Who's ready to see the Cartier Cunt and the Trillion Dollar Tits that brought down a sports empire?!!!" More cheering. As I tried desperately to maneuver my head to see what was going on, I heard Man #2 lower the windows and say, "Line starts here. Thank you... thank you... thank you..." He was clearly collecting money to allow the line of men to walk past the window and look at my body.

I heard one of them say, "Looking only, boys. If you want to touch, you'll have to come to the after party. A grand a head." I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer.

What was happening? Man after man after man passed by the driver's side window to look in at my tits and went around the back of the SUV to the passenger side to gaze upon my open cunt. Some moaned. Some exclaimed they understood why all those billionaires would want a piece of me. And, some called me filthy names.

After about 40 minutes the line had ended and Man #1 and Man #2 climbed in and rolled up the windows. I heard them tallying up the money they'd made and we drove off. This went on at three additional locations. I hesitate to think about it, but I'd guess more than a thousand men leered at my nearly naked body that day.

At the last location, they pulled me out of the car into the back room of some sort of store. I was able to use the bathroom while they watched and they gave me a sandwich, which I could hardly stomach, and a glass of water.

"Time for the after party, Maria." They laughed at my protestations and attempts to convince them that my name was Kathryn and I was from out of town. "Yeah, we heard all about your 'disguises'. Nice try."

They hauled me back to the SUV, gagged me, and strapped me in, again.

"Oh, God Damn!" Man #1 shouted to Man #2. "What?"

"Fat Tony Palermo heard about what we got going on and wants her to make good on the money she cost him in that game. He bet big. He wants her at his place at 11."

"Shit. We'd better get to the after party and get ours now. I ain't missing out on a dollar this bitch owes us."

I had no idea what lay in store for me and had grave concerns over who Fat Tony was. But, I was strapped down with no recourse.

The car eventually pulled up in front of a huge mansion. There was quite a bit of murmuring in the background. Glasses clinked and conversation was boisterous among the men in attendance. Eventually, I heard Man #2 say, "Look fellas, Maria's got one more hot date tonight, so we need to keep this party moving."

They lined up around the car again. But this time, there were hands reaching through the windows, grabbing my tits and pulling my nipples. When they came around the other side, they touched my pussy. I was in a state of shock. I couldn't even cry at this point. It was surreal. One after another, they handed cash to Man #1, who thanked each one of them and directed them around the SUV to take their turn touching my body. Hands continuously stroked my tits and pulled at my nipples. So many fingers grazed my sex, trying to slip inside before being pushed aside by the man behind them.

Man #2 shouted, "Manny! Don't you leave no marks or Fat Tony will have your cock." I heard audible gasps and low hushed, "fuuuuccckkk" and I'm pretty certain it had more to do with the mention of Fat Tony than any appeal my pussy held.

I heard a few of the men at the end of the line say they wanted to go last. They believed that after all those hands touched my tits and cunt that I'd for sure be 'ripe.' They wanted 'wet Cartier' and thought that going last would give them additional time to stick their fingers in a pussy made swollen by all the prior stimulation. It shames and pains me to say they weren't wrong. The final few stragglers moaned and took turns pumping their fingers into my cunt. Finally, Man #2 made them stop. 

Man #1 said they had a few minutes before they had to get me to Fat Tony and he wanted to "lick my clit." Man #2 told him to have at it, but to be quick. I heard the door open and tried to wriggle out some measure of protest. He grinned at me, slapped my pussy, and dove in head first like he was devouring a pie at the Iowa State Fair. I won't lie. I wanted to be repulsed. I'd like to think part of me was. But, it felt incredible. 

I moaned through the gag and Man #2 told him we needed to go and if he made me cum Fat Tony would have his cock, too.

"That's the sweetest fucking pussy I ever ate. Now I know why men kill each other for money. it's to get the Cartier Cunts that taste like that."

We pulled up to another mansion and drove around back. I was told by Man #1 that if I knew what was good for me, I'd go along with anything Fat Tony wanted.

Someone came out to the car and Man #1 and Man #2 unfastened me. He said, "Thanks, boys. I'll take her to him."

He guided me, in my torn-open blouse and skirt, which they'd pulled back down, inside the mansion and down a long curved stone stairway. The house was magnificent, but the downstairs had a dark cold feel to it. My guide tapped a few numbers onto a keypad and a large heavy door opened slowly. He ushered me into Fat Tony's wine cellar. I presumed it was Fat Tony, himself, seated in a huge chair with his back to us.

"She's here, boss."

"Thank you. Just bring her around in front of me."

And, there I was deposited. Standing, chilled and nervous. My blouse open, tits out, gagged, and with my new stockings rife with runs. I looked at him, set back, manspread, in that chair. A brandy snifter in his hand and a cigar burning in the ashtray next to him. He was huge. Probably 6'4 and definitely no less than 325 pounds. Bald with a thick moustache and goatee. He wore a suit and tie and very expensive shoes.

I stood dumbstruck, unsure of what to do. His eyes roamed my body for at least 2 minutes, in silence. It was the most unnerving experience I've ever had.

Finally, he spoke up. "Maria," he said in an even tone, "I had a lot of money riding on last week's game. I have a lot of friend's who put money on the line with my encouragement, as well." He paused for at least another minute.

"You see, this is problematic for me. Not because I need the money. I don't need the money, Maria. But because you made me look bad. Because you can't keep your legs shut, I lost a measure of respect in my community. Respect is very important to a man like me, Maria.

I also understand that a beautiful woman like you has needs, too, and with a body and face like yours, in the circles you travel, you can fuck any man you want. And, clearly you have, Maria. We just need to rectify this situation to my satisfaction and you can be on your way." Here he paused again as my body, nervous and chilled from the cold room, trembled.

"Here's what's going to happen: There's a camera in the wall behind me and I'm going to record our meeting. Anyone important to me will see how I fucked you as good as you fucked me. Then I'll let you leave. I will have my dignity restored and yours will be completely destroyed.

"First things first. Remove that tattered blouse. I don't mind that your tits are as cold as your heart. I like the way the daggers form on them - stiff and pointed right at me." I do as Fat Tony says and toss my favorite torn blouse to the stone floor.

"Now unzip and remove that skirt. Very nice. Turn a 360 and let me see everything. Yeah. Your monikers don't do you justice. You have the most beautiful tits, ass, and pussy I've ever seen. Come over to me." I move closer and he reaches out to touch my thigh. My body instinctively braces. "You don't have to relax. I'm fine with you quaking and quivering. My cock will find its way into your cunt whether it's relaxed or not. Turn around and bend over."

It's humiliating to know I'm being filmed and made to expose myself to him and god knows who else. But I bend forward with straight legs. He uses a big foot to kick my legs apart and I stumble forward a bit before catching myself. "Back it up again, Maria."

I hear him open a container and I feel a sting on my pussy lips. No, it's ice. A huge ice cube he's running up and down the length of my slit. The water drips down my legs. "Cool you off a little, you hot piece of ass. Stand up and turn around. Now climb on top of me and straddle my lap with your legs bent."

This felt even more humiliating. My face was right up to his and I could feel his breath on me as he looked squarely into my eyes. He placed my arms around his neck and dropped his to the arm of his chair.

"I know you want to kiss me, Maria." He took off the gag and offered me a sip of brandy. I took it and kissed his cheek. He said, "my neck" and I kissed his neck. "My mouth," and I kissed his mouth. He kissed me deeply and I felt his facial hair against my face. His tongue was rough and stiff in my mouth.

"Maria, I can feel the heat emanating from your pussy. I know you want to grind against me. It's okay." I wanted no such thing, but I rocked my pelvis against his crotch feeling an enormous swelling grow in his tailored slacks.

He kept me there, kissing him and having me grind against him for several long minutes before telling me I could stand again. When I did, he stood up as well. I had underestimated him. He was enormous. Not really fat, just huge. His body dwarfed mine. 

Tony told me to stand in the chair and he moved behind me. "Maria, I want a tour of your body. Take my hands and guide them around your face, your tits, your stomach, and your pussy. I want to feel everything."

There, in the wine cellar, in front of the camera, I took Tony's huge hands and guided them over my body as if he were blind and wanted to form a mental image of me. He moaned softly in my ear and kissed my neck. He was disgusting and this was humiliating, but at least he wasn't hurting me. 

"Now take my hand and show me what your lovers have done to you, Maria." I placed Tony's large hands on my breasts and squeezed them. Then I pinched his fingers together under mine and had him pinch my nipples. I felt his cock twitch against my ass.