The Rent-A-Slave

"Fuck!" I screeched. It was way too much - I thought it was going to tear me apart - but the other guy's hands were squeezing my tits, and his fine tan body was sweaty, and his eyes were blue and sort of faraway, and Jeremiah's chest was slippery under me, and his arms were so strong. "Fuck!" I said again, but this time it was a kind of sigh.

This was so cool. I just laid on top of Jeremiah's hard body and let them handle me and pound my ass. My mind drifted, and strangely I found myself thinking about the Rosenbergs. They'd missed out on something they could have had together, fucking in the bathroom. I pictured this guy and Jeremiah making me lick a dirty toilet and then dunking my head in it. That was cool, but then I pictured Dr. and Mrs. Rosenberg doing the same thing, and suddenly sensation exploded through my body and I came screaming.

The other guy pulled out of me, and I sat up on Jeremiah's cock so he could jerk off in my face. I opened wide for him, and he came with about half a dozen nice strong spurts, most of which he managed to get in my mouth. I swallowed his cum, and he was nice enough to put his cock in my mouth so I could suck off the few drops that were wetting the end.

Jeremiah groaned under me, and I scrambled off him quick so I could catch his cum. I sucked him, gagging myself on that amazing cock till he filled my mouth up with an big load of warm cum.

"You know, Brenda," said Jeremiah as him and the other guy got dressed, "A good Christian woman doesn't fuck around having perverted sex with just anybody that asks. She cleaves to one husband and has perverted sex as he commands."

"Is that right?" I said. I'd found a tissue in my purse and was wiping my face.

"Completely," he said. "You need a boyfriend. Somebody that can satisfy your needs and like control your baser impulses."

"Thanks for the advice, Jeremiah," I said. "I'll give that some thought." The idea of having a boyfriend didn't appeal to me much, but the religious argument was troubling.

The blond guy, whose name turned out to be Steve, was the manager, and he told me he'd make sure all my cable was free the rest of the year. I gave him a kiss and squeezed his ass to thank him.

I went home, laid on my bed, and explored my asshole with my fingers. It wasn't gaping, but it was definitely stretched. I got some lubricant in the bathroom, laid in the bathtub, and tried to put my hand in my ass. It was hard to get the right angle to do it, and then I couldn't get more than three fingers in me before it started to hurt and I gave it up.

5. The upstairs room

I had lunch, went to bed, and slept until it was so late I only just had time to eat dinner before I had to go do my slave bit.

At eight o'clock I knocked on the door of Betsy's imposing mansion. It was opened by a severe-looking redheaded woman in a skimpy leather maid's outfit. She scowled at me and said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get the fuck in here!"

I went in, and she slammed the door behind me, turned, and stalked off into the house. I guessed I was supposed to follow her.

I trailed her through a vast living room and dining room and an expensively appointed kitchen to a stairway in the back. We went up three flights and came out into a narrow and dark hallway with two doors on each side. The maid opened one of these and said, "In here."

It was a small room containing a table about four feet wide and six feet long. On one side of it there were upright poles made of iron, about five feet apart, with cuffs on the ends. About a foot from the other side there were cuffs attached directly to the table. There were various other straps too, whose function I never did figure out.

The table was bolted to the floor. Attached to it, on an arm that could be moved in various ways, was a machine with two rods with dildos attached to the ends - a fucking machine. There was nothing else in the room.

"There's a bathroom there," said the maid, pointing to a door. "You'd better go now."

I didn't really need to, but I did as she said and managed to pee some.

When I got back the redhead said, "Strip."

I undressed, wondering if I'd get to fuck the maid. She was kind of pretty, and very scary.

"Get on the table," she said. "Do I have to tell you every fucking thing?"

I climbed up on the table, and she positioned me so I was lying flat on my back with my ass hanging a little off one side. She attached my legs to the poles so they were up in a wide V; she cuffed my wrists to the table so my arms were spread wide.

"You'll spend the night here," she said.

"What if I need to pee?" I asked.

"Just say something. Maybe someone will come."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe."

Betsy came in and said, "Well, done, Mo. You can go put the food and drinks out now."

"Fuck you," said Mo, and left.

"Mo is my house slave," said Betsy. "She takes care of my needs and tells me to go fuck myself every hour or so."

"What's going to happen at this party?" I asked.

Betsy slid a finger into my pussy and fucked me as she talked.

"It's a sort of open house. I've invited lots of people, and they'll come and go as they please. It's a sex party, and they'll fuck each other, but anyone that doesn't have anybody better to play with can come in here and fuck you. As you can see, all your holes are accessible to anyone that wants to use them; or they can start up the fucking machine here and have fun watching you squirm."

"It sounds kind of scary," I said.

"If things get to be too much for you, shout 'Red.' Even if you're alone, someone will hear. Someone will be watching and listening all night." She pointed at a video camera hanging from the ceiling and pointed down between my legs.

I wondered if that somebody would be too busy masturbating to rescue me if things got hairy, but I didn't say anything.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Um, I asked Mo what I should do if I needed to go to the bathroom . . ."

"Just say you need to go. Someone will hear."

"Mo said maybe."

"If it gets too urgent, just go on the floor. I'm going to leave you now. Someone will let you loose in the morning."

"Betsy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to fuck me tonight?"

"If I get bored enough."

She left, and I just relaxed as well as I could, given that my situation wasn't all that comfortable.

There was no clock in the room, no windows, and nothing at all on the white walls. The place was a blank, and I had nothing at all to do and no way to know how much time was passing. I wished they'd left me with a television or something.

It seemed a very long time before someone came into the room. It was Mo, carrying a bottle of lubricant. Now she was wearing a tiny maid's skirt, hardly more than a belt, and nothing else. Her tits were freckled and her pubic hair was bright red.

"Are you here to fuck me?" I asked.

"I'm not a goddam masochist," she said. "Betsy told me to stretch you."

"Stretch me?"

"Nobody wants to be bothered with tight holes."

She poured some lubricant over her right hand, set down the bottle, and rubbed her hands together to spread it around. Then she inserted two fingers into me.

"Mmm," I said. "That's nice."

"This is not sex, you fucking moron," said Mo, tugging at my vag with the fingers of both hands.

"It's still nice," I said.

She put all the fingertips of her right hand together and shoved them into me. I gasped as she fucked me hard with her fingers, pushing into me more with each stroke.

"Let's get this straight," said Mo. "You're a fucking loser, a nothing. You're not sexy and you're not good looking."

"Oh!" I sighed, squirming as she fucked me.

"And I don't like you," she continued. She had worked her fingers in as far as the knuckles now, and the feeling was intense.

"Yeah, more," I said.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll be in up to the wrist in a minute."

"I mean more talk," I said. "Tell me more about how you don't like me. That's so hot."

She shoved once extra hard. "Ow!" I whined.

"You're fucking weird, you know that?"

"I've figured that out," I said.

"I don't know what all these people see in you," she said. "Downstairs everybody's milling around, eating their canapés and drinking their fucking martinis, and talking about how they're gonna come up here and piss on your face. And meanwhile you've got all the sex appeal of an eggplant."

Down below she'd managed to work her knuckle into me: the most painful part of the fisting was done, and she was twisting her hand inside me, pushing farther in. The feeling of fullness was intense, and I was gasping for both the sensation and Mo's insults.

"Your cunt looks like a mess of cooked collards," she continued, staring fixedly at my crotch, "all floppy and soggy, and too fucking big." Her voice was getting low and breathy.

"Fuck me!" I cried.

She slowly withdrew her hand from me, lubricated it again, and slid a finger into my ass.

"Your ass is too big," she said as she worked on stretching my hole, "and it looks like a fucking cauliflower. A shit-stained fucking cauliflower."

She was working fast, with three fingers already inside me. "Yeah, more!" I said. It already hurt as much as Jeremiah's cock.

"You've gotta work harder on cleanup after you take a shit," said Mo, frowning. "Only sick bastards like a dirty asshole: most people want you clean when they sodomize you."

Her hand felt so fucking good. "Shit!" I groaned.

"Your asshole is stretchy," said Mo. "You been putting great big things in there?"

"It was fucked by the world's biggest cock this morning," I said.

"Jesus," she said. "I've got almost my whole hand in already."

"Shit yeah, more!" I shouted.

She was fist-fucking me with one hand and rubbing herself with the other, and I was getting pretty near an orgasm, when she abruptly pulled her hand out of me, climbed onto the table, and crawled on top of me in a sixty-nine.

"Eat me, cunt-lips," she snarled, and planted her face between my legs.

She had left her pussy untrimmed, and I loved her red pubic hair and her pale pink pussy, glistening with her love juice. We ate each other till we both came.

"Nice show," said Randy from the doorway. He was naked and held his hard cock in his hand.

"Hi, Randy!" I said, really glad to see him.

"Fuck you," said Mo, getting off me.

"Lovely to see you, Mo," said Randy. "Hi, Brenda."

Mo left without a word.

"Your asshole is gaping," said Randy.

"Mo stretched it. Put something in there, will you?"

"Gladly, he said, came to the table, and put his cock in my ass.

After Randy, there was Freddy, a rich man that looked like the Monopoly guy, and he pissed all over me. There was Betsy, who sat on my face, and uncle Stu, who fucked my pussy and ass and came in my mouth, and Mr. Douglas, who owned the hardware store and whipped my tits with a silly little whip made of yarn or something while the fucking machine was going in my pussy and ass. There was Billy, a high school friend, now a cop, who pretended to arrest me and held his gun on me while he fucked me, and Mrs. Wallace, who owned a coffee house downtown, and her piss dribbled into my mouth while I ate her out. And there were lots of others, and I guess it must have been way past midnight when Jeremiah came in.

"Jeremiah!" I said. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"I've come to save your soul," he said solemnly.

"My soul's in pretty good shape already," I said.

"So you think," he said, unbuttoning his shirt, "but I know better. "You're flirting with disaster, fucking all these people, whoring yourself out. Look at you! Your cunt and asshole are gaping and this room reeks of piss and sweat."

"Yeah," I sighed. "It's been a great night."

He pushed down his pants, climbed up on the table, and stood over me. Limp, his cock looked like a fire hose.

"It's not just the numbers," he said. "I understand you've been fucking that boss of yours, Rosenberg."

"He's an amazing fuck," I said.

"He's a Jew," said Jeremiah, "and he's damned. Don't you know the Jews killed our Lord?"

"I remember the Bible said something about Jews, but I didn't know that part," I said.

"Well they did," said Jeremiah, "and Rosenberg is one of them. You're sleeping with a murderer."

That didn't make any sense. Jesus lived way before Dr. Rosenberg was born. But before I could say that, Jeremiah started to piss, and it was like this incredible yellow torrent that splashed all over my face before he managed to aim it into my open mouth.

Gulping down his piss, I thought about what he was saying. I didn't even know Dr. Rosenberg was Jewish - he looked pretty much like everybody else. But if he was Jewish, and he was really damned, maybe Jesus would be mad at me for fucking him.

I'd just resolved to ask the Reverend Edwards about it during my Bible lesson later that day when Jeremiah squatted above my head and shoved his cock into my mouth.

"Babe," he said as his dick stiffened, "you've got to get yourself together and become a good Christian woman."

"Mmmff," I said.

"That means getting married to a good man, quitting your job, and being a good obedient housewife. Have kids, cook dinner. You know."

I tried to picture myself as a mother, but it didn't compute. "Hakhkhkh," I said as he jammed his cock halfway down to my stomach.

He climbed off the table and rammed that elephant cock into my pussy. It hurt even though Mo had stretched it and a whole lot of people had fucked it that night.

"I don't know how to cook," I said.

"You can learn. I can help. I know you've got appetites, babe. I can satisfy your appetites, and you can satisfy mine. You haven't seen half of what I can do."

"I can guess," I said. "Oh, fuck!"

He'd just shoved his cock into my ass and was banging me furiously. "Brenda, I'm asking you to marry me. I'm going places in cable, babe; I'm a man with a future. And we go to the same church, and we both love Jesus. And I really need a woman that'll drink my piss, worship my cock, and take it up the ass."

He pulled out of me and jerked off, holding his cock angled upwards. His cum arced over my body and splattered on my face.

"What do you think, Brenda?" he said as his cock wilted in his hand.

"I'm really flattered, Jeremiah," I said. "I can't answer right now, but I promise I'll think about it."

"Do that," he said. "I know we'll be really happy together."

6. Mrs. Rosenberg's apology

After Jeremiah dressed and left, I thought over what he said. I liked his cock a lot, and I liked the way he used it, but I didn't know if I could be monogamous the way he wanted me to. I also wasn't sure Jesus really wanted me to obey a man in all things. I couldn't remember the Reverend Edwards ever saying anything like that.

I fell into a doze till the creaking door hinge woke me up.

It was Mrs. Rosenberg, wearing a white blouse and jeans, but somehow looking very rich and glossy. She was a vision of perfection.

"I didn't come here to abuse you," she said. "I don't know what got into me last night. I've never done anything like that before. It's been preying on my mind; I've hardly slept. I wanted to say . . . I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mrs. Rosenberg."

"No, it's not okay!" she said, her voice rising half an octave. "It was vile, making you lick that dirty toilet. I'm amazed it hasn't made you sick. Doing something like that could kill you!"

"I don't think so, Mrs. Rosenberg." I'd tried licking my own toilet in the afternoon, but it was pretty clean now that Lester was out of my life, and besides, it's not the same when someone isn't forcing you to do it.

"I was just . . . angry, I guess, and my anger made me want to do things to you."

"That's understandable, Mrs. Rosenberg."

"And the way you just make your body available to everyone. I mean, here you are, with your . . . your cunt just available like this . . ."

She put a hand on my pussy and continued, "I can't get it out of my mind, your pink tongue sliding over that cold dirty porcelain, and then . . ."

She slid a finger into me and I said, "Ooooh, yeah, Mrs. Rosenberg!"

". . . the feeling of your lips in my cunt . . . your tongue on my clit . . ."

Abruptly she yanked her fingers out of me, got out of her jeans, climbed up on the table, and sat on my face, knees around my head. Her voice was hoarse as she said, "Fucking eat me, whore!"

"Mmf," I said as I ate her out. She reached for my pussy as she rode me and slid her fingers in again. "Fuck me!" I cried, voice muffled in her gaping slit, nose in her crack, where her anus was so pink and perfect, the skin around it so white and smooth.

She was even wilder than she was the night before, grinding and bouncing, and now and then pulling her fingers out of me to swat at my clit, making me squeak.

She got into a squat above my face and pressed her sweet pink aristocratic asshole to my lips. "I can't get your face out of my fucking head," she rasped as I opened my mouth around her and licked her hole. "I want to do horrible, disgusting things to you . . ."

My pussy was running and my mouth watered as I rimmed her. "Yeah, Mrs. Rosenberg," I murmured into her crack, "do horrible things to me!"

She sat down heavier and rocked on me, smashing my nose and lips. "Fuck! Fuck!" she sobbed, rubbing her blond cunt with one hand and massaging a tit through her blouse. "What are you doing to me? You're turning me into a pervert!"

I couldn't hold still, I was so excited. My body was spasming, wrists and ankles jerking against my restraints. "Fuck, more!" I whined into her crack.

"Yeah, fucking more!" she hissed in a voice like the Wicked Witch.

She stood up, straddled my head, facing my feet, and spread her neat pink pussy lips: inside she was hot and wet: her vag gaped and her asshole flexed as she tried to push some piss out.

"Yes, please!" I begged, longing for her piss. But she couldn't get any out. She must have strained at it for more than a minute, but she was dry as dust.

"Fuck!" she said. "I can't do it!"

"Try squatting," I said.

With her asshole right above my face, she strained.

"I . . . can't," she groaned, bent forward and hugged her knees.

"Uh!" she said, straining, and let out a fart - a short, loud one that exploded two inches from my nose.

"Oh no!" she cried.

I felt the wind of it on my face and caught a powerful blast of sulfurous fumes. I gagged and turned my head away, but just a second later a huge wave of arousal washed over me. "Fuck that's hot!" I yelled before she could say anything more. "Give it to me again!"

"You're so fucking trashy," she said. But she strained again, and her ass dilated a couple of times, and on the third try she managed a big rasping one that lasted a couple of seconds.

I breathed deeply, coughed, and said, "More!"

Once again her asshole widened and pushed out, more and more as she strained. A few drops of piss dribbled out of her onto my chin.

"I can't!" she gasped, and I hissed "More!"

A big brown drop oozed out of her ass and hung there in the entrance to her hole. Then she farted, and the ooze splattered on my face, from the top of my nose down to my mouth, where I licked at it reflexively.

It was bitter and wicked, and it made me queasy, but I didn't have time to think about it, because she jumped up and pissed, not hesitating now. She pissed on my face, washing off the splatter, and then into my mouth. It was all I could do to get it all down, her stream was so strong.

When she was done she looked down between her legs and said, "You are disgusting."

Then she sat on my face again and scrubbed her pussy against my lips, riding me till her wet pissiness gave way to slick love juice, and she was sliding back and forth so I was licking her wet bitter asshole when she slid forward, and her slippery wet pussy when she slid back. She humped me faster and rougher, shouting "Eat! me! cunt!" till she came with a screech.