The 150th Slave Pt. 06: Alternative Ending

I got to eat Ms. Gentile's pussy, which was restful under the circumstances. I took my time and did a good job applying the lessons I'd learned in Long Island. I worked my tongue around the vicinity of her hot button moving in slowly before gently flicking my tongue where I was sure it would do the trick. Though her face was off camera, she made sounds that made clear to the world that my efforts had been appreciated.

The reverse cowgirl fuck that the BLC always does with slaves for the cameras followed. I know that they do it because it displays the female so completely and makes any modesty impossible. But it seems to me that the position is also somewhat inconsistent with slavery. The slave female is in control. She is on top and can set the pace and work her clitoris if she wants. The guy is practically a chair equipped with a prick. Crystal had been absolutely beautiful in this position.

I was tired but this was a chance to set my own pace on top of one of the incredibly hung, incredibly hard, BLC guys. I closed my eyes to concentrate on pleasure rather than humiliation, moved just as I wanted to hit my special nerves inside, held my hands under my breasts so they did not bounce around too much, and squeezed with my inner muscles on the delicious piece of flesh inside me. The Director said there was no rush. I did not rush and let it build and build inside me to let my orgasm take me at its own pace. When it came, the guy below me held me up as he fired into me and I almost lost consciousness.

They gave me a few minutes to breath before another Bolry guy went up the ass while I went down on another of the women on the bed. Finally, returned to being bent over the pole, with another black leather guy's cock in my mouth as a pacifier, my pussy was penetrated from behind with the guy gently massaging my inner lips with a free hand. Brought to one more orgasm by this and swallowing the sperm that had erupted into my mouth, I was utterly exhausted.

I am told that having six orgasms in 90 minutes for a woman is far short of the world record, but it was a record for me. We'd gone well over the broadcast time. Ferguson had left. The Director said that they'd filmed enough and had enough superb material to make several movies. The other slaves were put to work having sex with one man or woman or the other, Anderson again taking Crystal, having not touched me.

Leslie left after jeering and thrusting out her boobs and saying in my ear that she'd never so enjoyed a performance in her life. Jacobs said it was great to see me where he'd always knew I belonged. Svetlana looked at Jacobs and said, "What a fool" out loud and, then, whispered in my ear, "Laurel, that was breathtaking. You are a goddess," and left in a hurry. I knew where she was going.

I was helped up from the pole again and given a robe by the woman in gray who looked at my breasts and other places to see if I had any abrasions or redness. She applied lotions and kept telling me, "You wery bootieful, Gat lave you, everting is gud gud."

Sophia said I'd get a light lunch and few hours to rest and there would not be any more serious pain today. Starting about teatime, I'd be entertaining a series of men who had vigorous but not sadistic uses for my body. Also, she said that because this was my first day and I was taking in so much, she would be nearby just in case I felt I needed an unscheduled break or other assistance. There would be a lot of showers naturally but at least with me they would not have to be checking recent piercings. She added that I should have fun.

That evening went as Sofia said it would. I managed generally to concentrate on nothing but sex and the happy sensations in my body. None of the half dozen or so men from around the world were violent. Some of them were quite considerate. One guy did want me to pretend I was being raped. Another slapped my ass as he screwed me, which was tame compared to what I'd been through. I got a lot of boob play although none so rough as I had experienced in the dungeon.

One guy I had known in New York as an exceptionally successful investment banker. I had refused to go to bed with him there because I thought he was too pushy. Now I had no choice as he made clear starting with the words, "you're mine now bitch, at least for an hour." Despite this beginning, he was not too bad. He just took me anally, pulled and pinched more than most women would like, yanked on my hair some, pulled out one of my few pubic hairs to keep "as a souvenir" and kept telling me how much fun it was "to fuck a haughty bitch up the ass." I grossed myself out by enjoying it on some level even while feeling humiliated and awful that I would now have to surrender to anyone with the money to rent me.

The investment banker spent the time that his prick recovered from his first orgasm to lecture me on how I had had bad luck given the odds. He added that I should have known that someone would lose, though. He suggested that with my looks and brains, a better percentage shot would have been to marry a rich guy like him and take him for what he was worth. He said that's what his three wives had done. More usefully, while he lectured, he played with my nipples and around my clit in a way that made me eager to have sex again.

For his second act in the hour, the banker took me bareback using the cavity built for the purpose of sexual activity and childbirth. Fortunately, I was already skilled at having sex with guys I did not like. Somehow I even felt pleasure in knowing that I would have to surrender to every jerk that paid the BLC its rate. I wrapped my legs around him and, as we came, I had vaginal contractions as though my body wanted to suck up his sperm. Later, I thought of a line I remembered from my college English class, "Sweet are the uses of adversity" and I felt happy that I was a sex slave instead of the guy's fourth wife. That would have been to embarrassing.

Those were the worst mannered ones. On the other side, a sweet English guy just wanted to talk for an hour. After reading from Fanny Hill, D.H. Lawrence and Anais Nin, he said that I was incredibly beautiful, that he could tell I was really smart, that he never thought of me as evil, and that there was something wonderfully maternal and incredibly sexy about me at the same time. He added he would be back for a whole evening in a few weeks. I wished I had the notes from my college English Lit course to review in preparation for his return.

An African dictator said he wished he could have me as one of his wives. He would have given me a huge house and many servants. He realized that could never be. He took me doggie style but did a very nice job of working us both up to a beautiful climax.

Two other rich men wanted me on top doing what I had done during the debut only facing them. In both cases, the man felt my breasts and sucked on my nipples as I did my best to work us both slowly to a measured and lovely climax. I know they were satisfied. I think I performed orally two or three times.

If, as reported, there are health benefits to receiving sperm, I was the one of the healthier women in the world that night. I did have fun. After the last of those guys were done with me about an hour before midnight, I felt a sort of incredibly, soft, tired euphoria. Finally, alone in my BLC bed, I slept like a log for hours.

But, about dawn Sunday, I had a very strange dream. Everyone I had ever known in my life, including teachers, family, other students, colleagues and people I had met on the job, was looking at me displaying my nude body while, with my face to the crowd, I rode a man who had his penis up my vagina. The crowd was cheering, giggling and hooting. I was touching myself while bouncing up and down. I was dreaming but it was one of those dreams in which you know you are dreaming. There were people in the audience that I knew were dead and people in the audience who did not look like anyone I could remember and still I thought I knew them well. In the dream I had a screaming and shouting orgasm. The crowd came to a standing ovation. I was panting and trying to decide whether it was applause of derision, envy or appreciation when I woke up.

Awake, I thought that the day before had been both the worst and the best day of my life. I realized again that my brain has some seriously crossed wires. Why couldn't I have gotten so much pleasure from a romantic interlude with a nice man in a normal monogamous vanilla relationship? I wondered if I was the sickest woman in the world or if there were others as messed up as me. Fortunately, I was still so tired that I fell back asleep until noon.