Whore 94 Ch. 12

"There's a good girl," Nicola said.

Bitch.

I applied a little pressure to hilt of the dildo and eased it into my arsehole.

...Give them their show...

...That is what I do now...

I twisted and turned the dildo a little further inside myself and gasped into my gag.

I pulled it out a little and then probed again.

"Nice," the CTO remarked.

This was what they wanted, wasn't it?

To fuck myself on it.

To show them I understood and acknowledged their ownership of my arsehole.

This was what it would be like from now on.

This was what I would be.

I slid the dildo in... then pulled it out... each time a little deeper, a little easier... a little faster... grateful for the lubricant...Grateful for having wriggled on Nicola's fingers as she had creamed my arsehole...

Was I aroused?

Did I start to enjoy having that dildo inside me?

Did I start to fuck myself gratefully like a willing slave-whore?

I imagined their eyes staring, scrutinizing, leering at me while I played for them...

Didn't that disgust me?

Wasn't I disgusting?

How could I climax like this?

Would I be able to obey them?

Would I pass the audition?

I had to, didn't I?

They owned me now.

I had to comply.

Whatever it took.

Must obey.

I panted heavily into my gag and my pulse quickened.

God... Feeling electric... Doing it for them.

SPANK.

...Yes... Spank my pussy, mistress Nicola...

SPANK.

...Spank my pussy and watch me come for you, mistress...

SPANK.

...My young mistress...

...My superior in this world...

"Wriggle that butt, girl," she commanded. "Wriggle on that plastic cock. Show us how much you love it up you."

I squirmed for her and fucked myself increasingly frenetically on the dildo.

How had it come to this?

Me – a slave-whore?

Being spanked and scolded by my nineteen year old mistress. Neck chained to the floor. Ball-gagged. Fucking myself up the arse.

What was I then, if not a slave-whore?

...Don't come...

...Not yet...

SPANK.

I pushed the dildo deep into my arse and with trembling fingers, released it.

With the same quivering fingers I reached between my legs and parted my pussy lips – stretched them wide apart – displayed my pink to the CTO in all its dripping wet glory.

"Mmmm..." the CTO affirmed. "Very nice..."

It seemed to take the CEO an eternity to pace majestically around to my rear.

I prised my pussy lips as wide as I could for him, determined to be seen to be faithfully honouring his instructions.

I knew how severe he could be if I were to fail him.

Once he had raped me.

Now I was his slave and he would rape me whenever he felt like it.

I would present myself to him in the manner of his choosing, at the hour of his choosing.

And he would take his time with me, or rush, as the mood took him.

He clambered onto me – God – how old was he? – old enough to be my father.

I felt his cigar-laden breath on the back of my neck.

Then I felt his hands – mature, strong hands – on my hips, holding me masterfully, expertly.

The end of his erect penis brushed against my sex.

...Fuck me sir...

...Fuck this little slut...

...Be my daddy...

He was inside me in an instant.

And then he was pounding me.

Taking me.

Owning me.

Stamping his ownership all over my sex.

His dildo buried to the hilt in my arse.

And I was going to come for him.

I was going to come on my owner's cock, exactly as he had demanded.

I howled into my gag as his crotch slapped ferociously into the backs of my thighs, his testicles pounding me.

"I own you, Elizabeth," he growled in between breaths. "I own you..."

Nicola's heels clicked round me busily.

The CEO's cock thumped against the base of my womb.

Nicola stooped and slapped my face viciously - then I felt her fingers on the back of my neck as she fidgeted with the strap of my gag.

BANG BANG BANG.

...Being fucked like a worthless slut...

...Wanting it and not wanting it at the same time...

...Loving it...

...Loathing it...

I was out of control.

Way out of control.

BANG. BANG.

Just pounding me. Pounding his whore-meat.

I spluttered into the gag one last time before Nicola finally popped from between my teeth.

And suddenly I was coming...

...God...

...And how I came for them...

My body stiffened.

I was howling like... like a dog...

Nicola's feet appeared under my chin and I dribbled pathetically over her toes.

I arched my back, offering the CEO as much of myself as I could, drawing his penis into to me and hugging it there, all the while gasping and panting and moaning into Nicola's feet.

I pressed my mouth to her toes, knowing I was thanking her for letting me be her girl, that it was I all I was worth – all I would ever be worth - that it was my duty to please her, that she owned me and that I understood and accepted her as my superior...

...Coming for her...

...Honouring her...

I flicked my tongue greedily at the gaps between her toes, ran my lips across the straps of her sandals, tasting her, lapping her up, worshipping her.

...And still my orgasm held me in its grip...

I peered up at her young, perfect, tanned legs and her tiny mini-skirt... and I rode my climax like that... imagining my tongue pressed to her light-blue panties peeping down at me from between her legs...

...She was so young...

...And yet I belonged to her now...

I was still in the clutches of my orgasm when the CEO's hold on my hips tightened, and he jerked, pumped and spurted his load deep inside me.

My pay.

My feed.

...Thank you master for taking me...

...Thank you for owning me...

I lapped frenziedly at Nicola's feet as the CEO finished up and withdrew from me, dribbling his semen across my pussy-lips and spilling a final spurt over my Whore94 tattoo.

I moaned and panted and gagged on Nicola's toes.

...I came for you, mistress...

...I came for your feet...

With hardly a second passing between them, the CTO took the CEO's place – mounting me like a dog.

He tugged the dildo from my arsehole in one swift action – causing me to shudder violently... still in the dying throes of my orgasm...

He stuffed his throbbing cock straight into the space the departing dildo had left behind.

My arse was being taken.

By my ex-boss.

He had been so kind to me once... hadn't he?

Now he owned me.

Could do what the fuck he wanted with me.

How many other girls were there?

How many of us did they own?

His hands gathered my long brown hair and bundled it together tightly.

He yanked hard on it, pulling my neck as far back as the restraint would allow, and forcing my lips away from Nicola's feet momentarily.

She giggled excitedly and raised a foot up, dangling her toes at my mouth, inviting me to take as much of her foot as I could inside my face.

The CTO steered me.

He drove me.

The bastard was really fucking me hard... taking my arse like a piece of fuck-meat... oblivious to my pathetic protests – my squeals and yelps of pain...

...Of pleasure?...

BAM, he fucked me: BAM.

...God...

...I would split in two if he kept going like that...

Was I really their slave-whore?

Would I really have to spend the rest of my life like this?

The CEO paced around me until he was standing alongside Nicola.

"Look at me, whore," he demanded of me.

The CTO yanked my hair back even more brutally, forcing my chin up so that I was obliged to see my owner.

BAM, BAM.

The CTO was taking my arse for his own.

BAM. SPANK.

...Slapping my buttocks as he rode me...

...Entirely at his mercy...

Through bleary eyes I saw my owner – the CEO - beaming down at me.

Should I keep looking up at him?

Why was he allowing me to look up at him?

Why was Nicola looking so pleased with herself – so up herself?

BAM. BAM.

SPANK.

The CTO ejected his load up my arse, congratulating himself with a few grunts.

I took his load while I peered humbly up at my superiors.

I was doing this for them, wasn't I?

...Thank you for taking my arse, sir...

...Thank you for letting me be your dog...

God. I had enjoyed him taking me like that, hadn't I?

I loved to be taken hard, didn't I?

Was there something wrong with me?

"Nicola will be your mistress from now on," the CEO said calmly. "You will obey her absolutely."

Oh no.

No.

No way.

Not that.

I couldn't bear to continue looking up at him – nor her - not after hearing that.

The CTO released his grip on my hair and withdrew his dribbling penis from my bottom.

Oh God.

Please don't let it be like that.

...I don't want Nicola to be my mistress...

...Please no...

I bowed my head and shut my eyes tightly.

Footsteps shuffled around me.

The door to the room opened.

The footsteps filtered out through the doorway.

The door clicked shut.

They had gone.

The CEO and CTO had gone.

But Nicola remained.

She was to be my mistress?

Why her?

Why me?

Silence, but for the beating of my heart and the noise in my head.

This was it.

This was how it would be from now on.

No-one would thank me for the use of my body.

It would be expected.

Required.

They would arrive. They would take me. And then they would leave.

"You're going to dance for me girl," Nicola said suddenly.

She stooped over me and twisted the lock of my neck-cuff until something clicked open.

Then she snapped her fingers together sharply.

"GET UP, WHORE," she barked. "Dance for me NOW."

I was... free...?

No.

Not free.

Released from the neck-restraint, yes.

But not free.

Not anymore.

Not this whore.

Should I obey her?

Should I accept her as my mistress?

Submit to her?

Serve her?

Please her?

Pleasure her?

Allow her to demean and humiliate me?

Was there a way out?

Could I escape?

What would they do if I tried?

Would I ever find out?

Not today.

Today I was defeated.

Broken.

Today I was a slave-whore.

My owners had raped me and now they had gone and left me with her.

With her.

With my mistress.

I wormed out of the open neck restraint and lifted myself awkwardly to my feet - my legs aching from having knelt for so long.

I looked at her feet – the feet I had just worshipped – God – had I done that?

I curtsied politely before her.

God.

What was I doing?

Then, hesitantly at first, I started to sway my hips for her, still gazing at her feet.

I was a fully grown woman!

Yet there I was – submitting to her - to an arrogant, pushy, conceited bitch.

I found myself cupping my breasts in my hands and massaging my nipples in my fingers.

They had neglected my breasts.

Didn't they know how much I loved to have my nipples squeezed?

Did my mistress know?

Was she my mistress?

I turned, wriggling my hips for her, bent over a little, displayed to her my owner's semen still seeping from my orifices.

That was what she wanted to see, wasn't it?

I was accepting her, wasn't I?

"Remember the rules, girl?" she said haughtily. "I'm going to clap my hands..."

Oh God.

Yes. I remembered the rules.

God.

So this was my life now then?

This was the way it would be?

CLAP.

I bent right over, clasped my palms to my buttocks, spreading them disgracefully, and wriggled my sperm-glistening arsehole frenetically for her.

...Hanging on the clap of my young mistress' hands...

...Obediently wriggling my come-drenched bottom for her, alert to the inevitable second clap, mentally preparing myself to kneel before her, place my hands on my hips, stick out my chest and jiggle my breasts for her.

...And she would have me smile too, wouldn't she?...Like last time...

But how could I smile?

How could I be happy?

I was a slave!

A miserable fucking slave– Oh God – where had it all gone so wrong?

This was meant to have been an opportunity!

Instead they were going to make me live out my life as Nicola's little fuck-slave...

Bastards.

Why me?

Why did it have to be me?

CLAP.

There it was.

My mistress had clapped her hands, and so I must obey.

I straightened, turned, looked humbly at her feet.

I curtsied neatly, defeated.

I fell to my knees, placed my hands on my hips, pushed my bosom out.

"You're not smiling, girl" she barked.

I forced a smile through gritted teeth.

I was her girl, wasn't I?

Her happy whore.

Her smiling slave.

"You're mine, whore," she giggled horribly, "I own you."

She turned, pushing her bottom into my face, and pointed a forefinger at her neat, short, teeny, skirt, wrapped deliciously over her perfect trim bottom.

"Kiss my butt, whore."

I didn't hesitate.

I leaned forwards and pecked at her bottom through the material of her skirt.

She had me worship her skirt like that for several minutes.

She swayed and rocked and purred on my lips.

When she lifted her skirt up and gathered it at her waist, I kissed her perfect, tanned, supple, smooth, bare bum-cheeks.

I nuzzled my lips against her flesh and suckled on her. I sniffed her. I feasted on her aroma.

She pulled a strip of her flimsy light-blue panty material aside and indicated her arsehole.

"Lick my arse, girl," She commanded.

Why didn't I resist?

Why couldn't I?

I poked my tongue into the rim of her arse pressed it to her. I lapped at her obediently. I probed her with my tongue. I kissed, sucked, tasted her.

She gasped and sighed with pleasure.

"Eat me," she commanded. "Eat your mistress."

I had done this so many times for my Brazilian mistress during training.

Was Nicola the reason I had been trained to perform this duty?

Had they trained me with her in mind?

Was I some kind of personalised whore – specialised in the services of my appointed mistress?

Why was Nicola so privileged?

What made her so special?

I probed deeper and wriggled my tongue around inside her.

...Eating my mistress' arsehole...

...Pleasuring her...

...Giving myself to her...

"Mmmm..." She moaned softly. "They trained you well..."

Was I aroused?

I ought to have been disgusted with myself.

I couldn't have been aroused, could I?

Why was I licking and lapping and sucking on a young office-girl's arsehole?

Why was I so submissive?

...She owns me...

...My mistress...

...Must please her...

...Or else...

...Or else what?...

...I deserve this...

...I am worthless...

...I must be...

She sunk both her hands down the front of her panties and held them pressed tightly to her crotch.

I was exciting her... arousing her...

Was she playing with herself?

"Good girl," she said, breathing increasingly unevenly. "Make me come, there's a good girl."

I flicked my tongue obediently at the depths of her arsehole, tasting her innards, knowing that was all I was worth.

...I'm a sex-slave now...

...This is what I do...

...This is what I will always do...

...This is what I am...

...This is what I will always be...

She started twisting and gyrating her bottom on my face, making me gag on her, smothering me in a mixture of her arse-juice and my own saliva.

I explored her arsehole dutifully – wanting her to own my face...

How could I want that?

Soon I no longer needed to move my tongue – it was enough simply to stick it out firmly for her as she fucked herself on it.

...I'm her dildo...

...I'm her toy...

She plunged herself down forcibly on me one more time and then screamed wildly with pleasure.

She swivelled on my face, fingers still groping her own sex, and she twitched backwards and forwards on my tongue as she rode her climax through.

She twitched and thrust her arsehole on my face for a while, then her breathing calmed, and her body relaxed.

She straightened, pulling herself off me.

"Mmmmm," she giggled happily, turning to blink down at me on my knees before her. "There's a good girl."

Her face was flush, beaming.

"I can't believe they've given me my own little slave," She giggled ecstatically. Then her tone hardened: "What are you looking at girl?"

I directed my eyes quickly to her feet, where they belonged.

...Such young beautiful feet...

"Lick your lips," she commanded.

I obeyed, smearing her taste across them.

"Straighten my skirt."

I reached forwards obediently and smoothed her panties over her pussy with my fingers. She turned and I adjusted them until they were smooth across her bottom. Then I pulled her skirt into shape and patted it meticulously into position, exactly as I had been trained.

I would be her maid too, then.

"Good girl," she said, "Now thank me."

I swallowed hard.

...Too late now anyway...

...I have truly shamed myself before her...

...She owns me...

"Thank you miss," I squeaked.

"You will address me as 'my mistress'," she insisted. "And anytime I allow you to speak you will kiss my feet."

"Thank you, my mistress," I responded feebly, watching the floor.

Trembling before her, I bowed and kissed each of her feet reverently.

I stared at the delicate white straps of her sandals, defeated, subdued, tamed.

"Thank me again," she demanded.

...I'm hers...

...I belong to her...

"Thank you, my mistress," I said, kissing her feet again.

"Get yourself cleaned up girl," she spat contemptuously. "I want you out there earning."

With that, she strutted snootily from the room, giving the door a considerable slam behind her.

Alone in the room, I ran my palm tenderly over my bottom where my young mistress had spanked me, and felt my owner's semen on my fingers.

I felt deeply ashamed.

Had I really accepted her as my owner?

Did I belong to a nineteen year-old office-girl?

Had I thanked her and kissed her feet?

They had made me their whore ninety-four, and now their slave.

And that was what I would remain.

That was what I would be.