Loaned, Whipped, Fucked

She knelt on the thin carpet of the medium-grade hotel, eyes down, listening. Still clothed, but suggestively so, deep v neckline on an almost see-through blouse, short skirt, stockings. All black. Her Master and Sir Gryphon sat in medium-grade hotel furniture, negotiating what Sir Gryphon could do to Master's slave tonight in the ballroom-turned-dungeon.

Her Master enjoyed sharing her, enjoyed seeing other men hurt her, and pleasure her. It wasn't a kink either of them expected, rather like a man finding joy in sharing his car or horse with someone who would appreciate it. He liked owning something men found desirable. He liked watching other men put her through her paces, making her moan with arousal and pain; they both learned a lot from the skilled tops he'd loaned her to.

She knew it would be a whip scene, since Sir Gryphon was well-respected for his whip play. She loved whips! Her ideal impact was all sting, zero thud. Even "stingy" floggers usually detracted something from her enjoyment simply by having weight, but a simple piece of nylon with the right physics behind it left her begging for more.

"Can I fuck her?"

She froze, wondering what her Master would say. She had veto power -- her Master was a sadist, but not an asshole. Master had asked her what she thought of Sir Gryphon a few weeks ago, and she was intrigued by him. She said she would be OK with him fucking her.

"Yes. Any hole you want. Condoms for PIV or anal."

She quivered. Her panties were already damp from thinking about this all evening, but she felt herself get wet again. She suspected he would be brutal. She was scared, but she liked it. She liked thinking of someone like him wanting her.

The men concluded the negotiation and left the dungeon, her Master dragging her by her collar as he so loved doing. They both knew she would go willingly, but he enjoyed the sense of control.

They found a St. Andrews cross with a bit more light than the rest of the dungeon. Master ordered her to strip. She was so used to being naked around other people that she thought nothing of it. She removed each piece deliberately, not teasing, not shameful, just carefully exposing herself and placing the clothing in her bag. She had lovely underwear -- everything was frilly and sexy -- but there were just moments for anyone to appreciate it before she stood there bare, except for her collar and a small tuft of pubic hair.

At his command, she knelt again at her Master's feet as he sat in a ballroom chair. He pulled her face into his crotch. He stroked her hair and told her what a good girl she was, such a good whore, such an outrageous slut. He told her she would be fucked and to accept it, because her Master ordered it. He told her she would be whipped, because it pleased him. He told her others would be watching how well she obeyed.

"What can I let him do to you, slave?" he whispered in her ear.

"Anything you want him to. Even if I don't want him to. Even if it hurts," she said, her face still buried in his crotch.

He didn't really need to hear her part in the litany anymore.

"And what can you do to stop it?"

"Nothing."

"Good girl."

Of course she could stop it, but she'd never had to. He knew how to read her, and he would stop things long before they got out of control. He knew how to bring her to the edge of blurting "yellow" but stopping just before she got there, moving to some other part of the body or some other toy. He only loaned her to men as skilled as he was, or more.

Master removed her party collar and sent her over to Sir Gryphon, who was sitting in another one of the ballroom chairs. She was amused thinking of the number of wedding receptions these chairs had probably seen, compared with how many dungeons.

Sir Gryphon was a Leather man. He ordered her to touch the leather, his boots, his pants, smell the leather, stroke the leather. She obeyed. He ordered her to bare her neck for the play collar he used. She knew this was part of his ritual and she'd been a bit surprised that her Master had no problem with it. She thought about all the other women who had worn the collar, now buckled around her neck. He also added leather cuffs around her wrists, then made her lift her ankles to his knees so he could buckle more cuffs, and probably get a great view of her exposed pussy

He lifted her up an led her to the cross, clipping the shackles so she was facing the cross, leaving her back and ass exposed to his whips. He started slowly, just those wisps of sensation, with the occasional bite thrown in. He gradually built the intensity, moving it over different parts of her naked, vulnerable body. Something that would have been unbearable at the start just left her breathless and wanting more as he escalated. He popped the whip in her hair, the tip so close to splitting her scalp, but always just far enough away.

He took breaks from the whip to ravage her with hands and mouth. In some ways it was harder to bear his hands and teeth than his whips. He towered over her, overwhelming her. He nibbled her nipples, making her squeal, but her ass moved with the rhythm of her arousal, and his probing fingers found her wet and ready.

She lost track of the intervals of lashes and groping, floating through that magic space where all she could do was feel and react, not think. She was dimly aware of being unhooked from the cross and pushed onto all fours. She held very still as she felt his hands grasp her hips from behind. She felt his cock starting to push into her ass, slowly, well-lubed, but inexorably forcing its way into her. She breathed slowly, trying to channel the pain into something else, into the cheap carpet, into the dark air that rang with screams of others, and finally into pleasure as he sheathed his full length into her and began fucking her. Like the whips, he worked slowly at first, but became more violent as he rammed into her. He grabbed at her tits, her hair, using them as levers to pound more deeply into her. He spanked her ass, aggravating the welts from the whips. She knew her Master would be watching, so she let the tears flow when they appeared, knowing Master would savor her misery.

Sir Gryphon pulled out of her abused ass and left her gasping, sobbing. He stripped off the condom and entered her mouth, pulling her up enough to reach his engorged member. He wove his fingers into her hair and pulled her all the way to him, smothering her nose against him until she started to see spots, then letting her breathe just a few gasps before smothering her again. She choked and gagged, struggling not to throw up, trying to keep her teeth from grazing his cock as he worked in and out of her.

Finally, he stopped abusing her mouth. He lifted her up, forcing her to wrap her naked legs around him. He clipped her wrist restraints to the cross, facing him, leaving her front vulnerable and exposed to him. He sucked and bit her nipples until all she could do was cry, a keening banshee wail that cut through the ballroom. He left her for a moment, letting her feet rest on the base of the cross, but was soon back, once more rubbered and ready to invade her body. He lifted her and impaled her on his cock, her hands still shackled and useless as he fucked her, stroke after stroke after stroke. She felt the heat building inside her, the tingle she prayed wouldn't stop.

"Master, may I cum?" she pleaded.

"Yes, slave, cum."

She let go, feeling the heat wash over her, the tingle becoming a wave as she spasmed on his cock. He sucked her tits, triggering a second wave of orgasm. Not many thrusts after, he came with a roar, gushing into her. She dared a look at her Master and as expected, he was in his own sort of climax, brought along on the journey of the live porn show he had created for his own amusement. She knew he would fuck her even harder tonight when he got her to the hotel room, all three holes, reclaiming her. But for now, he left her to the cruel mercies of Sir Gryphon.

Sir Gryphon left her hands restrained and clipped her so he could whip her front, taking particular delight in her shrieks as he hit her delicate nipples. He cracked the whip in the small tuft of pubic hair, almost making her cum again from the shock wave. For his last few strokes, he left welts on her thighs and belly, welts she knew her Master would take pictures of later.

Still reeling from the hard lashes, he unclipped her and forced her to kneel at the foot of the cross while he went straight for her mouth. He raped her throat unmercifully until he came, forcing her to choke down huge gobs of him.

With her eyes still full of tears, he led her to a chair where he sat and pulled her head down to his lap. Once more he ordered her to feel the leather. She kissed his booted feet, even as her body throbbed with his abuse. He removed the collar and sent her back to her Master.

Her Master always glowed after scenes like this. He kissed her and told her what a good girl she was, what a good whore to fuck a man like that with everyone watching. She hadn't been aware of the crowd, but Master said there were many of them, especially after she started screaming. He praised her for taking it in all three holes. She could hear the lust in his voice.

The men let her rest there for a little while, curled up in her after care blanket. Master told Sir Gryphon about his favorite parts, which were pretty much everything. Sir Gryphon thanked Master for the use of her, and they agreed they should play again when circumstances permitted.

Master dragged her by the collar through the dungeon, still naked, and didn't let her put clothes on until just before the doorway. She knew it wouldn't last long - he would be stripping her and fucking her again, probably several times, all night long. Sometimes being a sex slave was like that. And she loved every minute.