Rock Slut

I nodded. Fuck, no, I wasn't sure of my own name at that point, let alone anything else. As usual, I was just caught up in the moment.

Clarissa nodded back, and stepped away.

'The duel is on!'

She led Pussy to the back of the stage, where there was a large wooden bench. To the sound of guitar accompaniment, Pussy bent over the bench, and Clarissa with a flourish produced a long, thin tapered golden vibrator from behind it, and to the crowds delight used it to part her slave's labia, and then to stimulate her clitoris. She bucked and writhed under the throes of the orgasm she had obviously been holding back, and then turned to look back at me. Only I could see Pussy's smile, but everyone could see Clarissa's as she held up the vibrator and dared me with her eyes.

I felt like a pool hustler. To the groans of the guitars and the audience I slowly unzipped my pants, inch by inch showing more of my hairless mound. As I did, I danced slowly to the music. I put my hand down to cover myself, and then dropped my pants where I stood, and stepped out of them. The crowd were going wild. I moved around and bent slowly down over the bench, my hand still covering myself. At the last moment before removing it I inserted a finger into my wet cunt, making it pout.

The other guitar stopped playing and the one at my side took over the riff. I stole a glance back at Clarissa, and was gratified to see a small speck of astonishment in her eyes. The vibrator was warm, and tingly, but made very little impression. Then the guitars switched again, and I looked over. The same vibrator was again being inserted into Pussy. I couldn't think why they would do the same thing twice. Switch again, and I got my answer. A gorgeous tingle at my ass hole, teasing, making me gasp, before it too penetrated me.

Switch again all too soon, and I looked back to see Clarissa holding up another, much bigger vibrator this time. It was huge, and flesh coloured, and I could see it quivering and squirming, silhouetted against the crowd. She plunged it quickly into Pussy, and I could see her pant, and lick her lips. I leaned across, and pulled her head towards me and we managed to kiss briefly, before the distance between us and the pulsing of her body pulled us apart. The music switched again, and I felt the rubber cock slide gracefully into me. It squirmed and twisted inside me in the way no real one can, and I bucked under the weight of an orgasm. I cried out in pleasure, and Clarissa held the microphone to my lips so it rang out across the room.

Switch. I tried to relax, and calm my breathing. I didn't need to look to see what was happening now. I tried to think calm thoughts. As I did I felt a vibration at my side. Why would they be doing anything there? I took a quick look. Nothing. Then I remembered that I had tucked my phone into the little pouch at the back of basque. I had a call. Well, they could damn well wait. I was busy. The phone switched off. Too quick for a call, must be a text. Fine, I could look at that later.

Switch. Oh, God. The thing tore and ripped at my ass. I tried to relax, and panted like I was giving birth. It pushed and pushed into me. I was being torn apart as it writhed and slithered into my colon. I whimpered and groaned with each pulse. This was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was just beginning to black out when it slithered its way back out of me. I clutched at my ass, feeling for a tear. But I was fine. Once again I thanked God for butt-plugs.

Switch again. Oh God, what now? I looked back and Clarissa was holding something up to the crowd I couldn't see. The crowd seethed with anticipation. Pussy gasped and screamed, and then jerked and called out as something pounded into her, and the music pounded along. What was it?

Switch.

Ugh. Oh, God. Uh.

Oh, God, yes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

No words to describe. Imagine… No. No words. Only…

Uh.

Only…

Uh…

God…

I screamed into an ear-splitting second orgasm, and must have gushed all over the stage. Whatever it was pulled out. I turned around, and collapsed on the floor. Clarissa smiled down at me. The music switched again and Clarissa moved over to Pussy, and stuck her fist and arm straight up her asshole, almost up to her elbow. I gasped on Pussy's behalf.. Now Clarissa's arm, to the accompaniment of stamping feet and whining guitar, began to piston in and out of Pussy, Pussy making high-pitched squeaking motion with each thrust and each withdrawal. When the music reached a crescendo she withdrew the arm and looked towards me. I desperately wanted to go on, but my head shook, and a tear rolled down my cheek.

Clarissa grabbed an arm of Pussy and dragged her to her feet, holding her arm aloft. 'The winner and still champion!'

The crowd yelled out 'Pu-ssy! Pu-ssy!'

Whimpering, I crawled across the stage. A memory surfaced. My brother, when I was young, wanting to go on the corkscrew. Me, reluctantly tagging along. Hating it. Being scared shitless, barrelling round in the semi-dark of sunset, too breathless to even cry. Legs of jelly. Collapsing as I climbed out of the ride.

Begging to queue up again.

An arm came around my waist, hauling me upright. 'But a big hand for Christine!' Applause. I smiled weakly. A big hand, yes…

Clarissa led me to the side of the stage and I pitched off of it. Strong hands caught me and conveyed me to the back of the crowd. They lowered me down, amid a bearded denim crowd. My pants were still on stage. I climbed unsteadily to my feet like a new born foal. I clutched for my phone, and pulled it out.

1 new message.

Big job. Need u urgent. Call back b4 30 mins.

I called, leaning against the bar, watching guy's attention wander over between my open snatch and the band's next song. The news was just what I had been hoping for. A shoot was all set up, and the star had gone down with the flu. I needed to be there seven tomorrow. I had to catch a plane by two. They had seats booked, if I could use them. Of course I could. I would be there. I hung up.

I unfastened the basque, and dropped it to the floor. I stepped out of the shoes, and rolled down my stockings. I picked up the bundle and carried it over to the manager, standing open-mouthed outside the door to his office.

'Something's come up,' I said. 'I'm going to have to quit. Here's my stuff.' He meekly took the bundle from my arms. 'Some of it's still on stage, that okay?' He nodded. 'I might come back on payday. Or I might not.'

He started to say something, but it just came out as a croak. He started again. 'Anytime,' he said. I blew him a kiss, and I walked away, naked as the day, my phone clutched in my hand.

I walked over to the changing room, and pulled on my coat. The door opened again behind me, the music rising and falling in volume as the door opened and then closed. There were four guys there, all in denim and leather jackets.

The one closest to me said 'Good show.'

Another, with long hair and a single, large earring said, 'The best yet.'

Another said, 'Encore.' He flicked out a knife.

I looked at it, a little scared. Then I realised something, and I smiled. Then I started to laugh.

I pointed to the knife. 'You don't need that,' I said. 'Weren't you listening? I'm yours.

'I'm anybody's.

'I'm a slut.'