Slut-2-Fuck Ch. 05

"Would you like to lick up your husband's cum, darling?" Sam asked.

Laura looked at her uncertainly. "Do I have a choice, Ma'am?" She asked in a humble way, not rudely, knowing she would always do exactly what Sam told her.

"Of course." Sam's magnanimous smile was full of understanding. "Naturally, you must drink every other man's spunk. But you needn't bother with your husband's. Would you prefer him to guzzle it down instead?"

Laura glanced at Chris.

What was one more load of sperm to her? She'd been trained to ignore any nausea and just swallow as many slimy loads as men emptied down her throat in a day. And yet? Why the heck should she do it if she had a choice?

"Yes." She said. "I would him to. Please, Ma'am."

Sam simply raised an eyebrow at Chris.

Laura watched her husband lower his head like a dog to its bowl and start to drink.

*** *** ***

"You're going on a honeymoon." Sam said.

The day after the wedding, Laura and Sam flew to Miami. Laura travelled in the back of coach, in seat 69E, while Sam sat up front in business. It was a crowded, uncomfortable flight but Laura managed to get a bit of upright shuteye squeezed between a noisy kid and a large Asian gentleman.

The immigration line was tedious and the cab ride was slow, but eventually they arrived in the upmarket hotel Sam had booked. It was on Collins Avenue in South Beach and Laura waited fatigued while Sam booked them in.

Their room was on the small side but luxurious, with a generous King double for Sam and a narrow fold-down bed that housekeeping had installed for Laura. There was a marble ensuite bathroom. Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"Ah." She gasped. "Hurry. I'm full of airline champagne. Lie down."

Laura had already removed her jacket. She slipped her slinky jersey cotton dress over her head and climbed nude into the white tub. She lay down with her face tilted back, and opened her mouth.

Sam perched astride her and smiled down. She stroked Laura's cheek.

"Good girl, my little bidet."

Laura stared at Sam's copious bush. A golden jet appeared without warning.

"Ah." Sam exclaimed, louder. "Mmm. That's gooooood."

Laura did her best. She held her lips and jaw wide apart and allowed her mouth to fill up to about quarter-way, then gulped the acrid urine down her throat, trying not to spill any. She then let her mouth refill. Her gullet burned and her eyes watered but she managed to keep almost all of it down.

Sam's eyes watched her, amused, as she choked back seven frothy mouthfuls without respite.

Eventually the cascade slowed, and at last ceased.

"Phew. I needed that, didn't I? Now, lick those last few droplets up."

Laura reached out with her tongue and lapped up the golden teardrops hanging from Sam's pubic hairs and pouting labia.

"Now, what about that prawn curry I ate on the flight?" Sam teased her, edging forwards, so that her bottom hovered directly over Laura's face.

*** *** ***

Chris stood at the bar while Steve ordered their drinks; a glass of tap water and a pint of the black stuff. Steve had chosen the same gastro-pub where he had 'bumped into' Sam, Laura and Chris on the evening he re-entered their lives.

The owner landlord was a big redheaded man who mostly cooked in the upstairs kitchen while his wife pulled pints behind the downstairs bar. Chris followed Steve to a quiet corner table and sat down opposite him.

"I guess the girls should have arrived at their hotel by now." Steve said.

Chris glanced at the cheap plastic watch Sam had purchased to replace his Omega. He nodded, sipping his lukewarm water. He lived an almost entirely vice-free existence now; a strict diet, no internet outside the office, no watching television, no shopping, obviously no masturbation. And no alcohol.

"Fuck." Steve rolled his eyes at him. "I'm horny already. It's been twenty four hours. Sam was in too much of a rush this morning."

Chris smiled politely. He watched Steve down a slug of his Guinness.

"You okay?" Steve asked. "You seem quiet."

"I'm fine."

"I mean it." Steve was looking him straight in the eye. He'd slipped 'out of character' for a moment. It seemed he genuinely wanted to check that Chris was coping.

Chris met his gaze. That meant a lot. He was managing. Just.

"Sure?" Steve winked. "Hey, you're not regretting marrying Laura again, are you?"

Chris's lip curled in an ironic smile. "No ... not at all."

Steve licked the froth from his upper lip and chuckled. "Good."

A shadow fell over their table from behind them. Chris looked up. A vaguely familiar man of sixtyish was standing there looking down. He was bald on top with ring of grey hair and reading spectacles hanging from a cord round his neck.

"Ah. Here he is! Chris, Fred." Steve said. "Fred, Chris."

Chris blushed, remembering. Fred had attended his sham wedding to Sam. He knew Fred was one of Laura's regulars.

"Chris is Laura's husband."

"I know. Last time we met he was marrying Sam. Now he's back with his first wife. Can't make his mind up, can he? Hey man, we didn't get the chance to chat last time we met."

Fred eased himself into a chair. He had a jowly double chin and a pot-belly. "You're a lucky guy Chris. Fuck, I love your missus's blowjobs."

Chris swallowed. He didn't really know how to reply. Fred had said it so pleasantly and nonchalantly, like he was complimenting a guy on his car, or golf swing, not his wife. He glanced over at Steve.

"Chris, say thank you to Fred."

"Er ... thanks."

"A pleasure. You should be proud, the way she gulps it all down. You're a generous man, Chris, to share her with old blokes like me."

Steve leered at Chris. "Fred's a generous man too. He tips Sam well."

Fred waved his hand in a dismissive gesture that said think-nothing-of-it.

"I love her titties too. At my age you forget how nice and firm young jugs can be. Nipples like coat pegs. And that tongue, wow. Shit, my asshole was never so clean until I met your missus."

Chris couldn't help peeking round to check nobody else was listening.

"Mind you," Fred continued unabashed, holding his thumb and index finger up together to form a suggestive oval shape, "it's your little lady's own shitter that I like most. Tight as a gnat's chuff."

Chris watched him squeeze his thumb and finger against each other to turn the oval into a narrow crack.

Fred shrugged ruefully. "Naturally, my own dear wife never used to take it back there. I guess classy ladies are like that. So, thanks heavens for anal sluts like Laura. Tell me, do you love fucking your wife's asshole too?"

"Well?" Steve frowned. "Answer him."

"Er ... I haven't ever ... you know... done that."

Fred grinned. "Never? You're kidding. You don't know what you're missing, mate."

"And he never will." Steve interrupted. "And oral is a thing of the past too. But he does still get to kiss his good lady occasionally. And they do hold hands."

Both men laughed.

"Fetch Fred a gin and tonic." Steve said, pushing a five pound note across to Chris.

When Chris returned, Steve and Fred had been joined by the jovial redheaded landlord who had helped himself to Chris's seat.

"It's okay." Steve said. "Just stand there."

"Slut, two, fuck." Fred was spelling out. "Google her. I swear it."

They all looked up at Chris.

"Jock, this is Chris," Steve pointed at him, "and he needs a casual job."

"Yeah. He's got to pay his wedding bills." Fred added.

"No problem." The landlord replied, looking Chris up and down. "We need a washer-upper in the restaurant kitchen. Weekends mostly. Okay?"

"Saturdays and Sundays? No problem. Hours?" Steve asked, without even bothering to look up at Chris.

The landlord shrugged. "As long as he can manage. Twelve? Midday to midnight ideally. And occasional weekday evenings if he can make them?"

"Perfect." Steve finished his pint. "And pay?"

"Only minimum hourly wage, I'm afraid. And washer-uppers don't share in the front of house tips. But he can have as much free moisturising lotion for his sore hands when he's finished as he needs."

Steve grinned up at Chris. "That all sounds fine. When can he start?"

The landlord shook hands with Steve. "How about right now?"

Chris shut his eyes. He realised this had all been a set up from the start.

Steve patted Chris in the front of his jeans. The hard steel of his chastity tube made a muffled clunk. The landlord clambered out of his seat.

"And if you weren't a happily married man, Jock, I'd throw in a freebie voucher to fuck this guy's missus." Steve said.

"I can heartily recommend her." Fred added.

"Don't tempt me, lads." Jock replied, smirking at Chris.

"You two want to stay for a bite of supper? On the house."

Steve stared directly at Chris, right in the eyes, clearly drinking in his discomfort and humiliation.

"Yeah. That's a nice idea."

"Oh, by the way." Jock asked. "We pay cash. What shall I do with his wages?"

Steve patted his chest. "Give them to me. I'll look after them".

*** *** ***

The movie studio was an hour's cab ride outside Miami.

Sam was glad she had already met the producer and director at the hotel the evening before. She felt more secure having chatted with the two men in a public place. She had left Laura's fee in an envelope back in her hotel room safe. The adult movie business wasn't necessarily going to be any more profitable than Slut-2-Fuck's main line of work, but it would add a whole new source of entertainment.

"So this is Laura?" Hank said. He was from central casting; a greasy haired, tubby mid-forties guy, yet who still fancied himself as good looking.

"Er ... y ... yes." Laura stuttered.

"Get on your knees and offer your director a blowjob." Sam snapped.

Hank smirked at Sam, clearly surprised and delighted.

"You gotta be kidding right?"

Laura's green eyes blinked slowly in resignation. She glanced at Sam and then knelt down on her knees, reaching out her fingers towards Hank's jeans.

Sam smiled reassuringly at him. "Not at all. You must have been offered your fair share by other wannabe actresses?"

Hank licked his rubbery lips. "Yeah, sometimes. But usually only to get a part, or before the fee's agreed. This is a freebie right?"

"Of course. Think of it as a little extra to lubricate the deal."

They both looked down at Laura who was kneeling, waiting.

"Please ... Sir. Would you like a blowjob?" she asked.

Hank looked at his watch.

"Heck, yeah. Why not? We got time."

Sam watched Slut-2-Fuck unbuckle the director's jeans and release his cock. It didn't look appetising but the slut lowered her head onto it anyway.

"Oh boy. Mmm. I've already got twelve dudes lined up for this bitch."

"So what's one more then?"

Sam watched Hank run both his hands through Laura's hair to part it like a curtain. Her red lips were sliding up and down his veined shaft.

"Yeah, right." He replied. "But pretty beginners like this usually only want to do it with handsome studs. I got her a bunch of twenty-somethings lined up."

Sam had already seen casting photos of the guys, mostly hunky and tanned.

"I know. They're fine for the actual movie." She studied Laura's head bobbing up and down under the guy's paunch. "But there's no reason the backstage fellows shouldn't get a bit of action too."

"Too right." He exclaimed. "Let me sit down here a sec."

There was a pause while he slumped into his battered leather chair and Laura scooted over on her knees. During the wait, Sam caught Laura's eye and nodded approvingly.

"It's really true this lady is married?" he asked.

"Absolutely. Just married."

He nodded. "Fallen on hard times, huh? Needs the money?"

Sam lingered. "Kind of."

"Husband know?"

"Oh sure. We wouldn't do anything behind his back."

He hissed. It was evident that he wasn't too far from shooting his load.

The movie Laura was starring in was for a series called 'Open Air Shame'. The location was a motel swimming pool near the beach. There were seventy porno extras that played the role of 'the public', basically hotel guests lying on cheap plastic sun beds, set up in long rows either side of the rectangular swimming pool. A few actors would be dressed as waiters and waitresses and hotel staff.

Males were in the majority but there were plenty of females too amongst the cast, mostly porn actresses themselves being paid a few bucks for an easy day's rest. Dotted amongst the guests and staff on the set were the dozen studs who had got today's key roles. They were a buffed up, cross section of black, white, Hispanic and Asian guys, all experienced porn actors, all proven STD-free.

Sam managed to keep a straight face as Hank gratefully humped Laura's mouth and clotted her cheeks and gums with his greasy, middle aged seed.

*** *** ***

The message was lying in his inbox one morning.

It was to Steve's account on Informed Consent. He had advertised in the personals on his and Sam's behalf for a second live-in submissive couple, ideally married and aged 25-35, who wanted to join their household to serve alongside Laura and Chris.

Several timewasters had already replied and made enquiries, and he'd even met up with one 'sub female' who turned out to be a post-op transsexual, but there was something about this couple he knew was different. They smelt real.

He decided not to tell Sam yet. She was over in Florida and would undoubtedly still be asleep, five hours behind. It would make a nice surprise for her return if he could in the meantime make sure this couple were genuine and move things along.

Their photos looked good. They weren't married, but they lived together. Both had previously been married to other people and divorced. Neither had kids. Tracy was 33 and looked a bit plump round the edges, but Sam's diet and exercise regime would soon change that. Facially she was pretty with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and big turquoise eyes.

Mike was a bit older, 42, and pretty average looking. But there was something about his neat haircut, regular features and white office shirt that suggested money. He looked educated and middle class, and probably had a decent job. Sam would approve of that!

Steve didn't believe in wasting time writing loads of emails. He sent Mike and Tracy the number of the pre-pay phone he used solely for this purpose.

*** *** ***

Sam had never been on a film set before. Certainly nothing like this one!

There were several cameras and microphones and a small band of technicians to operate them; cables, wires, boxes, paraphernalia everywhere. One camera was mounted on a trolley and two were handheld. One microphone was held at the end of a long pole, so that it could be dangled just above the action. In spite of the clear blue sky above, there were spot lights on tripods to counteract shadows.

The plot line was simple. Laura walked out of the motel towards the pool, past numerous gleaming guests on sun beds. They are covered in suntan lotion, reading books or mags, drinking pina coladas, soaking up the rays. Several men, and women, check Laura out as she struts provocatively past them.

She is shown to an empty lounger by a fresh faced Hispanic pool boy. He puts up her sunshade umbrella while she lays down her beach bag and removes her cotton dress. Her tits and ass are barely covered by her tiny red swimsuit.

It is obvious that Laura's character is meant to be on the stuck-up side. She summons a black waiter and rudely orders a cappuccino and blueberry muffin from the menu. Her abrupt treatment of him is noticed by the people on the neighbouring sun loungers. She delves into her bag and pulls out a pocket mirror and makeup. She applies a fresh layer of bright red waterproof lipstick to her lips, pouting and preening and admiring herself in the mirror.

Then she walks down the steps into the swimming pool. While she sexily swims a few lengths of breaststroke, the sunbathing guests watch her furtively, eyes over the top edge of their magazines. The action cuts to the kitchen where the black waiter is preparing Laura's frothy coffee and muffin. We realise that he is jerking off his huge dick and he directs his jets of creamy spunk into her cup, to mingle with the coffee and hot milk. Smiling, he stirs it with his finger and spits a long thread of drool from his mouth onto the top of her blueberry muffin.

The scene changes back to the pool. In the background Laura is swimming and in the foreground we see an unknown arm reach into her beach bag to extract her purse. It is evident that all her money is being stolen. The waiter arrives to lay her cappuccino and muffin on a low table by her lounger, just as she climbs out of the pool and sashays her hips back to her spot.

We watch her sip her coffee and taste her muffin, unaware that she is swallowing the waiter's liquid additions. Then he returns for payment. She reaches into her bag for her purse. We see her panic as it is no longer there.

Soon Security arrives. Four hotel staff in blue uniforms. As Laura struggles, she loses her bikini top and then tries to make a run for it. Fortunately a couple of guests grab her and she is dragged back to her sun lounger. It is clear she is a thief who intended to eat and drink without paying and she is found guilty by the hotel manager. He starts dialling the police and she pleads for mercy. He offers her an alternative to prison. She accepts summary mob justice instead.

The seventy guests form an excited, jeering backdrop as Laura is stripped, spanked, slapped and fucked. Several men use her cunt and she is spit-roasted by others in her mouth at the same time. Then a man sodomises her and she is triple-teamed by a man underneath her in her asshole, another atop in her cunt, a third in her mouth. All the while, the blue sun beats down on her 'open air shame'. A small group explore her beach bag and reveal a vibrator along with her mirror, makeup and now empty purse.

Somebody finds some rope and her ankles and wrists are tied to the lounger. While many of the guests drift away swim and play ball in the water, and others relax, drink cocktails and eat lunch, Laura is spread-eagled in the hot sun. A platinum blonde woman undoes her own bikini and sits on Laura's face while a black domme kneels between her legs and rams the vibrator in and out.

"This is great." Hank said, sidling up behind Sam. "She's a natural. She ever do any acting?"

Sam gave him a shit-eating grin. "I think she played Mary in her school nativity play two decades ago. That's all. But this isn't really acting for her anyway."

They both studied the huge-boobed platinum porn star riding Laura's face. Another lady has joined the fun. This one is a Chinese actress with pink-streaked hair and she uses Laura's own lipstick from her purse to write 'slut', 'whore', 'fucktoy' and other names in bright red over her body.

The camera crew were gathered close round the action. There were still plenty of extras hanging about too, just in shot, enjoying Laura's humiliation. One cameraman is lying on his back next to Laura, to film from below, the sea of laughing faces gathered round her.

Hank patted Sam on the shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. "Yep." He whispered into Sam's ear.

"You and I could make ourselves a shitload of money outta this one."

*** *** ***

"Grind down on her face!"

Hearing those words made Laura's mind flash back to the day - what seemed like a century ago now - when Sam had first introduced her and Chris to face-sitting.

She concentrated on breathing and what was happening to her. She was only vaguely aware of the audience and the cameras around her. Her senses were centred on her mouth, and breasts and pussy; she felt the woman scrawling on her with lipstick and the black lady skilfully keeping her on the absolute edge of cumming. Her bottom, thighs and pussy were sticky and soaked with everybody else's cum.