Date: Fri, 17 Nov 2000 17:03:57 EST
From: Thescallywags@aol.com
Subject: Rude Awkenings - TG fiction submission

RUDE AWAKENINGS

By The Scallywags
Thescallywags@aol.com

A short story by 'The Scallywags.' Please feel free to use, and abuse, this
story in any way you care. Though should you want to reproduce it, do
please give us suitable credit. Thank you.


The first sensations to penetrate my drug-induced coma were of an
incredibly sensuous type. An extraordinary heat was effusing from my loins
along with an indescribably pleasing tingling from my chest.

It was only the perception of something being repeatedly, and
uncomfortably, rammed down my throat that roused me from my dream like
stupor. As I tried to move my head to stop the oral intrusion, I dimly
heard a man's voice say "She's coming round, you ready?" A grunt from
around my still full mouth apparently signaled his accomplice's
agreement. As I opened my eyes to see what on earth was happening to me,
the obstacle was finally removed from my mouth, affording me a close up
view of a fully erect penis, still glistening with my own saliva!  The full
horror of this was instantly upon me. A thoroughly erect and so obviously
male penis had just been withdrawn from my mouth and throat... my
throat... my male throat! Here I was, a fully heterosexual man apparently
sucking some stranger's dick.

I had only seconds to comprehend this violation before the same self dick
erupted a forceful stream of warm jism all upon my face and chest. As I
struggled to stop this hideous defilement, I became aware of strong hands
holding mine back over my head. Despite my best to break free, I was
surprised by my attacker's strength as he effortlessly held me still. I was
completely powerless to stop jet after powerful jet of semen from raining
down upon my unprotected face and body.

Simultaneously, loud grunting from my groin made me aware once more of the
wonderful feelings from my lower regions, barely able to see through eyes
heavily coated in disgusting sperm, I could barely make out the sight of
another man thrusting furiously away between my outstretched thighs. I was
being fucked!  As the second assailant's grunts reached a crescendo, so I
became aware of an intense feeling of a hot liquid filling my insides, and
yet rather than the sensations of a seemingly brutal and expectedly painful
defilement of my virgin ass. I was awash in the rapture of an incredibly
blinding orgasm. Involuntarily I found myself pushing back to meet his
powerful thrusts and gripping my muscles around his jetting member still
buried deep within my depths. What the fuck was happening?

As my orgasm waned, so I noticed for the first time that as well as looking
at the lower assailant through badly gummed up hideously long lashes. I
also noticed that my legs were seemingly clad in silk and were pushed up
and back towards my head as they were held beneath my defiler's
armpits. Worse of all, I realized I was also struggling to see around two
sizeable, semen coated, breasts!  I had tits!  Such was the shock with
which I received this last piece of news, that I just lay there in shock,
failing to notice as my assailants used my hair, face and clothing to wipe
their subsiding erections clean before beating a hasty retreat.

Stunned to my core I could only lay there as one by one the facts presented
themselves to me: I had tits.

I did not feel any pain from my fucking, far from it, I had experienced an
orgasm far more intense than anything I had felt before. Therefore it might
be fare to surmise he had not raped my ass...

Therefore, he must have been... he could only have been fucking me in
my... in my vagina. I had a cunt as well!  Tits and a cunt? Such a
combination existed only, at least to the best of my knowledge, on
women. Therefor I was a woman!  Worse, I was a woman who had just been, and
seemingly enjoyably so, raped by two men!  This definitely warranted
further investigation. Weakly I lifted myself to a sitting position and
attempted to remove some of the congealing jism from my eyes, nearly
removing an eye as I discovered my fingernails were now extended a good
quarter inch, and painted am alarming shade of scarlet. More carefully this
time, I gently removed the worst of the cold semen from my eyes and was
immediately struck by the realization that I was out in the open, lying on
a bench in the middle of a large park.

Ignoring the venue for the time being, I sat fully up and surveyed my new
self. I did indeed possess tits, and from this vantagepoint they seemed
enormous as they swung and jiggled unencumbered by the bra that lay in
tatters around my shoulders. It had been cut open at the front and could in
no way be used to fetter my large and currently unruly mammary glands.

I tried to remove it, but it was held in place by the remains of my white
nylon blouse, which was pushed, back down and over my shoulders. With a
quick look to ensure no one was around, I removed the blouse and bra before
trying my best to cover my new found treasure with the remains of my
blouse. My attempts at covering my large breasts were hampered by the fact
that my assailants had ripped the blouse open to gain access to my charms,
resulting in the top four buttons having disappeared. I did my best to
cover them and was rewarded with the majority of my charms being hidden
moderately, though the filmy material was not designed to be opaque and
their shape and darker nipples, jutting forth alarmingly, were clearly
discernible through it. Especially where large globules of foreign semen
coated them, causing the material to go completely transparent and stick to
my freely swinging and undeniably impressively sized tits. Satisfied I
could do no more with them for now, I lowered my inspection to my hips and
below.

A dark pink skirt was yanked up over my hips, revealing a neatly trimmer
square of pubic hair atop a pouting pussy that showed all the evidence of
having been very recently pillaged. Black garter tabs appeared from below
the skirt and secured a pair of black stockings, one badly laddered, around
my thighs. All clothing below my hips appeared to have played host to a
party of snails as trail after trail of silvery semen intersected all over.

A thorough survey of my immediate surroundings failed to produce the hoped
for underwear, leaving to me the conclusions that I had either not been
wearing any, or, more likely I felt, my assailants had taken them as some
kind of trophy.

Staggering to my feet, I made two more discoveries. Firstly, my feet were
encased in ridiculously high-heels; an inspection revealed them to be
around four-inch heels atop two black pumps.

The second became apparent as, teetering atop the ghastly unfamiliar heels,
I struggled to work the tight fitting skirt back over my voluminous
hips. It was a mini-skirt, barely covering the tops of my stockings and had
a large tear in back, thus ensuring it in no way covered my thighs and
lower buttocks from behind.

One great piece of news was that I did find a purse and sitting back down
on the bench I explored the once alien world of women's handbags to
discover my new identity.

A Californian ID card revealed I was not licensed to drive, but I
apparently still lived in Los Angeles, but other than that there was no
comforting familiarity to be had. I learned I was now named Candie B.J. Row
and from the small but relatively clear photograph upon the license, I was
surprised to see I was of an obviously Asian lineage. The most
discomforting fact to be gleaned from the small slip of plastic was that I
was undeniably, drop-dead, gorgeous. Long black hair framed a classically
beautiful face. My sparkling blue eyes drew you in while my lips bore a
highly sexually inviting pout, even in such an unflattering image as this.

I read on to learn that I now resided at 1205 Riverside Drive, in apartment
105, in Hollywood (not an area I was familiar with in my old, masculine,
identity. I also found out I was now nearly a foot shorter at 5' 2", six
years younger at 22, weighed in at a featherweight 105 pounds.

A thorough investigation of the remaining contents of my handbag revealed I
was seemingly a sexually active girl, as attested to by the presence of a
packet of birth control pills and six condoms! I appeared to prefer
cosmetics of a, shall we say, vivid nature, evidenced by the resplendently
colored eye shadow, blusher, and lipsticks that the bag contained.

I also found a small compact mirror, which I used to get my first glimpse
of my new face. Once again this revealed two undeniable truths: I was
gorgeous and covered in semen.

The handbag also produced a tissue that I used to remove the worst of the
now glutinous semen, but this resulted in the obvious need for a makeup
touch up. I was surprised to find that I was quite expert in the
administration of blusher and lipstick, though the mascara was a good deal
more trickier to apply due to the monstrous false eyelashes I
sported. Still, as I surveyed the finished result, I was quite pleased with
the beautiful face that stared back at me. The look was definitely not
demure, seeming to scream wanton sexuality, but the worst of my rapists cum
was gone.

With the handbag revealing no other great secrets, apart from some keys and
the fact that my purse was devoid of cash, I decided I had better get
myself out of here and see if the keys fitted the address on my license.

Slowly I familiarized myself with the art of walking atop sharply pointed
high-heels, unaware of the lascivious way in which I unknowingly gyrated my
hips, ass and unsecured bosom, and made my way down the slight incline
towards the nearest exit from the park. All the time wondering exactly how
I had been transformed from a happy heterosexual male into such a seemingly
gorgeous example of wanton femininity.

My pondering was briefly interrupted by the realizations that I could feel
my rapists semen beginning to run out of my pussy and down my inner
thighs. Unfortunately I had thrown away my only Kleenex and so could now do
nothing to stop the gradual trickle as I felt it reach my stocking tops.

I was so engrossed by the disgusting sensations of another man's cum
running slowly down my thighs that it was not until a stranger accosted me
and accused me of being a whore, that I realized both my breasts had worked
free from the confines of my jism stained blouse. Worse, they were still
obviously jism covered and sported two nipples fully erect from their
exposure to the evenings cool air. I quickly did my best to secure them
back behind the inadequate layer of flimsy white nylon and continued to
sashay my way down the street in search of my bearings.

Once again my lack of attention caused me humiliation, this time as I
inadvertently walked across an iron grating. Of course the sharp heel of my
stilettos got stuck, causing me to fall over, my skirt riding fully up over
my shapely but cum soaked ass and my tits spilling free again. Worse, as I
did my best to cover myself and so regain the merest hint of modesty, I
found I had broken the heel and now had a most pronounced limp, further
exaggerating both the sway of my ass and the gyrations of my unfettered
breasts.


TWO By the time I found my new abode I was exhausted, I had suffered the
indignity of being chased by two dogs, my resultant attempt to flee had
ensured no part of my considerable charms had remained concealed. The rent
in my skirt now well up over my incredibly shapely ass affording everyone a
free view of my tanned ass cheeks and now cum drenched thighs. It was, in
all honestly, a miracle I had made it home at all. I had been accosted by
several strange men, each convinced that I was a hooker, and had had to
practically fight of the persistent sexual advances of a decidedly drunk
teenager who obviously felt I was fare game.

Finally secure behind an unfamiliar front door, I took stock of my new
situation. I had somehow, miraculously, been transformed from a gainfully
employed male, into... into what? A young woman, obviously in her prime,
but what were my new circumstances? What could I do for cash? Was I
employed? As I stood there in the comfortably appointed, but unfamiliar,
surroundings of my new abode, my musings were interrupted by the sound of a
phone ringing close to hand.

I quickly located the phone in the kitchen and with a feeling of great
trepidation I reached out a bejeweled and long-nailed hand to pick up the
receiver.

"Hello" I quietly offered.

"Well hello Candy," came a vaguely familiar voice in response. "How are you
settling in?"

"Um... who is this?" I ventured.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize my voice?" was the obviously surprised
response. I did recognize it, it was definitely familiar, but where had I
heard it?

"No. I don't think I do, who is this?" I asked again.

"Well, I am surprised, I recognize your voice fine. You'd think you'd
recognize the voice you used for the past near thirty years!" My God! It
was me! I was speaking to the old me!  My gasp obviously told the caller,
me, that recognition, and a good deal of shock, had set in. I listened to
the familiar laugh at the other end of the line. "Yes, that's right, I'm
now you and you are now me! How are you settling into your new body?

Did you like the little awakening I arranged for you? We got some great
shots of you and your two... new friends shall we say?"

I was too flabbergasted to reply as I stood in my new kitchen partially
undressed as I caught site of my reflection in the hall mirror. I was
definitely drop-dead gorgeous with a body to die for and a face that could
easily surpass Helen of Troy's when it came to launching ships! My clothes
were in utter disarray with my breasts barely concealed behind a decidedly
grubby looking blouse and now both my tattered pink skirt and black
stockings sporting highly visible damp patches.

The caller, the old me, interrupted my trance, "Bet your wondering how we
did it? Well I won't bore you with the technicalities, but they tell me it
was quite a simple matter of transferring our minds. Now I have your body
and you have mine. Better still, now I have your life and you are stuck
with mine. You just wait until you see all the little surprises I have in
store for you. We've been planning this for years."

"Years? How? Why?" I stammered.

More laughter, "Oh it's nothing personal Candie, well not completely
anyway, we just needed access to some of your research. We'd tried
approaching you and you had made it clear you wanted no part in our
operation, but, you see, we needed your work and had to get it one way or
another. The fact of the matter is that you mightily pissed off my boss
with your holier than thou act. And besides, this way we all get to enjoy
your future ordeal as an added bonus.

"You see my dear, unlike you, I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I
have arranged... shall we say certain treats for you! Certain little traps
that you can have no way of foreseeing. Traps that will lay dormant until
you just happen along.

We are going to have so much fun with you Miss Candie, oh by the way; do
you like your new name? I changed mine about two months ago, all ready for
our little `switcheroo', I especially like the `BJ' as a middle name, I
don't suppose it will take anyone very long to work out exactly what it
stands for! "

With a decidedly sinking feeling in my stomach I ventured, "You said traps,
like what?"

"Well your job for instance. You probably haven't discovered it yet, but
you are employed as a secretary at a nearby office, the trouble is you,
that is to say I, stole a rather large sum of money, since spent I'm afraid
to tell you. And now, somehow or other the office lech, your new boss,
Mr. Rogers, has discovered this fact. I'm pretty sure he will want to have
a hearty face to face with you first thing tomorrow. I should perhaps tell
you that I had been going out of my way to tease and humiliate him at every
opportunity for the past two months in anticipation of this day.

"So there you have it, tomorrow you get to see exactly what old Randy
Rogers has in mind for you, who knows it might be jail, but I suspect
otherwise. Regardless, you will have no choice but to comply as I have
emptied your, that is to say my old, accounts. You are penniless and the
rent is due dear girl, and with this theft thing hanging over your head
another job is out of the question. I am afraid you have to decide to
either comply with Rogers every command, or spend the next five years, as
Big Bad Bertha's little lesbian slave inside jail. The choice is yours!"

A final bout of hysterical laughter, a cry of "We'll talk again soon", and
the phone went dead.

I slowly recovered from the worst of the call's shock... I had to come to
terms with the fact that the caller was the old me! I was no longer was
Alan Borne, research scientist for Adantex Pharmaceuticals. Obviously the
work I had been leading into genetic re-engineering had led to my current
demise.

After much sitting around thinking of anyway out of my ridiculous
predicament, and realizing that there was no way I could convince anyone of
the truth, I finally realized the futility, and with the sun now well and
truly set decided to meet what ever came my way head on. I spent the
remainder of the Sunday evening showering off the physical evidence of my
assault, and then exploring my new and humble accommodation dressed in the
only evening wear available to me; a pink lace peignoir and three inch
matching, fur trimmed mule slippers.

The apartment, though nicely decorated in an obviously feminine decor, was
pretty small. Comprising of little more than a kitchen, bathroom, and
reasonably spacious living area and bedroom. The bedroom was unmistakably
feminine, from the bright pink covered four poster, matching dresser and
white and pink curtains. A door off the bedroom led to a small ground floor
balcony, surrounded by white iron fencing.

I returned to the bedroom and began familiarizing myself with the contents
of the drawers and closets. The top drawer contained a vast collection of
panties and bras; everyone was of a decidedly sexy nature. All the panties
were thong types, with a couple of pairs of slit crutch thrown in, the bras
(I learned I was sized 36D) were equally sexy and either low cut, padded
(like I needed any help there) or designed to further push my treasure up
and out.

It quickly became apparent as I worked through drawer after drawer of
ultra-sexy teddies, garter belts, stockings and night wear, that I would
need to invest some money in a decidedly less revealing wardrobe. This was
further evidenced by the two closets, which revealed row after row of short
skirts, minimal dresses, ridiculously high-heels, and not a pair of pants
to be had.

The dresser was covered with bottles and tubes of makeup, each a similarly
vivid color to that I had found in my purse, and a massive collection of
obviously cheap jewelry.

The bathroom turned up nothing more surprising than a box of tampons,
bringing home the realization that I would have the pleasures of my
menstrual cycle to look forward to. An unbelievably large box of condoms,
proclaiming to contain `100 ribbed Pleasure-Seekers', a tray of bottles
containing the better known, and cheaper, brands of perfume, and the other
normal accruements associated with any bathroom completed the contents.

Realizing I was famished, I turned my attention to the kitchen, a thorough
exploration of which revealed that tonight I would be dining on tuna and
crackers, there being little else other than milk and coffee.

As I sat at the small dining table between the kitchen and the living room,
I studied all the documents my exploration had turned up. It was by this
means that I learned where I worked - Peeve's Rubber Goods, and was
expected there, about four blocks away, at 8:00AM tomorrow. I had
apparently only had the job for about three months, and could find no
record of previous employment.

Resigned to my fate, I drew the drapes as best I could, there not being
enough material to completely cover the opening, affording anyone outside
by the pool an easy way to spy no me unseen. I sat with my legs drawn up
under me, pulling the peignoir to cover my long shapely legs, and did my
best to loose myself in the mindless chatter provided by my television.

After about an hour of fruitless watching I gave up, set the coffee machine
to go off automatically and then retired to bed. I kind of surprised myself
by electing to slip on an all too skimpy baby doll negligee before climbing
between the pink satin sheets where I tossed and turned until the small
hours before I finally drifted off into a restless slumber.


THREE My alarm dragged me from a nightmare where I had somehow been
transformed in to a glamorous fox of a woman. The realization that it was
no nightmare came in the form of my large chest shifting beneath me as I
rolled over to silence the alarm.

With a growing sense of dread I climbed from between the pink silk sheets
and moved unconsciously seductively to the shower.

Once cleaned and my long hair dried, I set about determining what I should
wear to my first day, to all intents and purposes, of work at Peeve's
Rubber Goods. After much deliberations I eventually settled upon the most
modest bra and panties I could find, a pair of plain white panties and
equally plain bra. Tan hose covered my shapely legs, which were hidden as
much as possible by the longest skirt I could find, a black number reaching
down as far as my knees. A black blouse covered my tits as much as could be
hoped for due to their size. Minimal makeup and jewelry, along with a pair
of flat black shoes, completed my attire, I was ready.

Having already established that I did not possess either car or license, I
made sure to leave myself enough time to walk the four blocks to work. In
fact I arrived about twenty minutes early and was fairly easily able to
find where Mr. Rogers office, and hence mine, were located.

Rogers was already in and my fears about the honesty of the `previous me's'
confession were soon realized when he ordered me into his office and fully
outlined what he had uncovered. I was surprised to discover that Mr. Rogers
was a large black man, and when I say large, I mean large, easily over
three hundred pounds in size.

He was quickly on the offensive, telling me of the crime he had
uncovered. I had apparently, and there would be no point trying to explain
that it was not me but the former me, made off with a little over ten
thousand dollars! Mr. Rogers told me that if I could repay the money then
it would go no further, but if not then, well than he would have to decide
upon a suitable action. I did my best to explain that I no longer had the
money, but was hampered in not being able to explain what had happened to
it. Back and forth we argued for well over one hour, all the while
realizing exactly how bad my situation was.

Finally, Rogers played his ace. "Well that's all very well Candie," he said
as he brushed aside my last and most futile attempt at extricating myself
from this horrid mess. "But this is how it is going to be from now on, that
is unless you really want me to call the police in and have you publicly
charged with the theft of over ten thousand dollars?"

I demurely shook my head as I lowered my gaze to the floor, missing the
evil look of triumph that now lit up his fat face.

"I thought not. Good. Well from now on you are going to pay for the
terrible way you have treated me for the past six months. No!" He held up a
hand, cutting off my attempt at protesting, "I do not want to hear it. You
have been a right little cock tease of late, and now, thanks to your own
stupidity, you are going to pay for it. Maybe not financially, though I
have a few ideas about that also, but mainly physically. From now on my
dear Candie, you are going to be my very own little sex slave."

My eyes shot up to meet his and any questions about his seriousness were
immediately dismissed as I saw the look upon his fat face, it was one of
pure triumph. He knew that I had absolutely no choice but to succumb to the
fate he chose. My head, beaten fell once more to gaze upon the floor.

"Good" he continued, "let me spell out exactly how it is going to be from
now on. Firstly, you will be very attentive and affectionate towards
me. You will appear to really care about me and how I am doing, and more
importantly, you will feel compelled to constantly be touching me. And, if
the occasion permits it, you will either be trying to get your hands down
my pants, or rubbing some part of yourself against me. Now I may well order
you to stop such a `disgusting' display, which you will do, briefly, before
appearing unable to stop for long and thus resuming in an even more lurid
manner.

Secondly, you will have to start dressing a little sexier." He stared at me
with obvious disdain, "Stand up, let me have a look at you."

Slowly at first, but quicker once he roared his disquiet at me, I stood up
before him.

"Take off your blouse" he barked, and with shaking fingers I made to
comply. "Now that's exactly what I mean, that bra is no way sexy enough for
a slut like you. Take it off."

Fighting back very real tears I eased my hands behind my back and unclasped
it, slowly bringing it around the front to cover my mammoth jugs.

"Now throw it away, I will not have my sex slave wearing such an unsexy
garment." I did as he dictated and so stood before him naked from the waist
up.

"That's better. Wow! Candie, you really are stacked. Tell you what, loose
the skirt and then do a few jumping jacks for me."

"What here?" I blurted, unable to stop myself.

"Yes here!" He roared, "Don't you dare question me. If I give you a command
you just do it, immediately and quietly, now is that clear?"

I nodded my assent. "Well then?"

I quietly slipped out of my skirt and stood before him wearing nothing
other than my white cotton panties over tan hose and shoes. Realizing this
was my lot from now on; I began leaping in the air with my arms and legs
spread as far apart as I could get them. Each and every jump caused maximum
displacement to my breasts as they furiously bounced and bucked upon my
chest. After about two minutes of this he amused himself by switching his
attention to my discarded shirt.

Taking a pair of scissors from his desk he roughly cut a good twelve inches
from the hem.

"OK you can stop now." With my breath coming in ragged gasps I stood mutely
before him. "Loose the panties, there's no way a slut like you can wear
something as conservative as them. The hose goes too."

The scissors were used to remove several buttons from my blouse before I
was ordered to get dressed. Now I stood before him in a drastically
shortened skirt, the ragged hem of which came perilously close to revealing
the lower part of my ass cheeks, and a blouse which could not be done up
past my cleavage.

"That's a lot better. From now on your attire is going to be... well shall
we say a good deal sluttier. I want no hemlines to be past the end of your
fingers, and all skirts must be really tight and figure hugging. Bras and
panties when you wear them, and I want you to be sure to not wear one or
the other at least two days every week, will be tight, sexy and brightly
covered. A slut like you has no right wearing white, so I want to see lots
of reds, blacks, blues, gold, yellows, lime greens etceteras. Ideally they
will be coordinated, along with your garter belts, for pantyhose is also
definitely a no, no, and will clash with your outer wear. If you are
wearing a red top and black skirt, then your panties, bra and garter belt
should be lime green, yellow or something that will stand out well when
exposed. And believe me, it will be exposed!  "I think your shoes should
have at least a four inch heel on them and should clash with your clothes,
and both your jewelry and make up will be on the decidedly heavy side. You
know what I mean. Lots of chandelier and hoop earrings, loads of bangles
and necklaces, and false eyelashes, plenty of blusher, lipstick and liner
and I cannot wait to see you in some iridescent eye shadow. Now what do you
have to say to that, do you think a little fuck toy like you Candie can
mange all that, or should I enforce it with a good spanking?

There was no doubt he was entirely serious in his every word. "No thank you
Mr. Rogers, I think I can remember all of that." I stammered in reply.

"Good. Well just to be sure why don't you type it all up as a memo that we
can both sign, just to be sure you know." I made to head off out to my desk
outside his office.

"Oh one more thing Candie, as you are now officially my little sex toy,
don't you think it would be a good idea if you were to thank me properly?"

Was he serious? Thank him? His look quickly persuaded me of the futility in
voicing my true thoughts regarding his suggestion, instead I adopted a
saccharin sweet smile and replied "Well of course Mr. Rogers, thank you so
much for going to all the trouble to help me..."

His smile told me there was more, his word confirmed it: "Why don't you
keep thanking me like that while you give my dick a good sucking."

And so, swallowing my pride (whilst preparing to possibly swallow a good
deal worse) and reflecting on the circumstances that had overnight turned
me from a successful young heterosexual male into another mans whore, I
dropped to my knees and moved towards his crotch under the glass topped
desk. Crawling on all fours I made my way between his spread knees and
surveyed the odious task before me, already there was a visible swelling
within the confines of his shiny nylon Dockers. Tentatively I reached out a
manicured hand and pulled down his zipper, all the time fighting back the
palpable revulsion that was rising in my stomach.

"Don't forget to let me hear you enthusiastically thanking me" came the
order from above.

"Thank you so much Mr. Rogers" I cooed as I reached my delicate hand into
the steamy confines of his underwear and worked the awakening black monster
free. And a monster it was, much longer and wider than the penis I had once
enjoyed owning so much. As it slowly grew to it's full size, it must have
been fully nine inches long and my scarlet nailed hand barely encircled it,
such was its girth.

"Thank you for letting me be your little sex slave" I mouthed as I lowered
my head towards his glans, already glistening with the first tear of
pre-cum. I knew that my much shortened skirt had ridden up high enough to
afford anyone entering the office a wonderful view of my unprotected pussy
and ass, but was unable to do anything about it as I concentrated on not
being sick and on the task before me.

Following his encouragement, I enthusiastically thanked him for `allowing'
me to serve him as his personal whore as I rained little kisses upon his
helmet before I slowly lowered my mouth over the monster.

Rogers was free with his advice as to exactly what he wanted me to do. I
obediently followed his every command as I slid the repulsive organ fully
home down my throat, swirled my tongue around the sensitive underside of
his glans, all the while telling him what a lucky little slut I was to have
such a manly master.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours as I knelt uncomfortable between
his bulky thighs, he came. The first indication I had of his impending
orgasm was the feeling of his strong hands on the back of my head as he
took two large handfuls of my auburn hair and forced me fully down on his
penis. I fought to control both the physical and mental gag reflexes as my
nose was forced into his black and wiry pubic hair, while his penis
stretched my throat to amazing proportions. Using my hair as handles he
worked my throat up and down the monsters length in ever quickening
thrusts, before I felt the first of many streams of hot cum jet into my
throat and down into my stomach. Wave after wave of salty jism spurted
endlessly into my insides as he slowly worked my throat and mouth back up
his length. And still he came, so much so that when only the head was still
in my mouth, his cum came too quickly for me to swallow it
all. Involuntarily I coughed large globules of it out so that it ran past
my lips, down my chin and dropped onto my blouse and cleavage below.

Finally he was satiated and released his grip on my hair, permitting me to
crawl backwards from under his desk, my skirt catching and ridding fully up
over my shapely ass.

"Wow! That was great Candie, I always figured you for a world class cock
sucker and now I know I was right. Well we will have to make that your
first job every day. From now on, you will be sure to arrive in the office
before me and be sure to have a fresh cup of coffee ready for my
arrival. Once I am settled in I will summon you on the intercom and you can
bring me my coffee and then suck my dick exactly as you did just then. Is
that clear bitch?"

Yes Mr. Rogers" I obediently recited, "I will arrive before you, have a cup
of coffee ready, then await your... await your command to come in, serve
you your coffee and then suck your dick."

"Good. Good girl, I think we are going to get along just fine. Now be sure
to rub my seed into your tits and face, we don't want to waste any of it."
He smiled condescendingly at me as I worked the foul fluid into my skin
where it had landed. "Oh, and a couple of other points came to me... came
to me, get the pun?"

I dutifully laughed at his stupid joke.

"I think you would look much sexier as a blond. So tonight I will make an
appointment for you at a friend of mines salon where he will color your
hair, as well as a few other minor changes I will let him know of. Here,
take down his address, I will be asking him about your behavior, so be sure
to be polite and do exactly what he says, you understand?"

Once more, I adopted the saccharin sweet smile he liked and swore my total
obedience.

I wrote down the address in my notebook and then made my way out of his
office to prepare the memo detailing the incredible changes he wanted in my
appearance and behavior.

The rest of the day past reasonably uneventfully. I typed up the memo, made
the changes he ordered, by the time he had done with it, it was no longer
just a memo, but to all intents and purposes a very official looking
contract. There was no mention of the fact that I was being blackmailed
into signing it, instead it appeared that this was a contract I was
enthusiastically entering in to under my own free will.

It covered everything from my willing agreement to dress like a total slut,
down to my going without bra and panties on different days, meaning that on
only two days would I be permitted to wear a complete set of
underwear. Those days were to be potentially spoilt by a clause that
empowered Mr. Rogers to dictate whether I should `enjoy' some type of
toy. It also went on to spell out how I was at all times to be flirtatious
with all members of staff, regardless of how they treated me, that I should
at all times wear a beatific smile, regardless of my circumstances. That I
should always bend over from the hips (ensuring my backside would be
frequently displayed) and that I was to be completely submissive to
Mr. Rogers and anyone else he indicated. Each clause had a penalty, which
would either be fiscal, or far worse, some punishment to be devised by
Mr. Rogers. In other words, I was screwed, both physically and
figuratively.

As the final order of business for my first day as his personal whore, I
was made to erotically strip to some old slow song on his CD player. I then
had to entice his penis back into sizeable life before climbing over it and
slowly lowering myself down to be impaled upon its considerable mass. Then,
as I raised and lowered myself in a slow rhythm, he made me read out the
contract, initialing each and every clause, before finally signing my new
name at the bottom of each page.

By far the worse part of this whole ordeal was that I myself orgasmed as I
now frantically leapt up and down upon his solid cock. Despite my very best
efforts to fight the rising tide of sexual energy that rose from my loins
like an unchecked fire, I could do nothing to prevent the shuddering climax
that rocketed through me as he pinched down hard upon my distended nipples.

Still worse was the fact that none of this was missed by my abuser, and he
loved every second of it, insisting, "That's it my slut, I knew you were a
hot little whore. Let me hear you cum, raise the roof with your screams, I
never want there to be any doubt you are orgasaming, let me hear your
screams."

And so I let the full sexual energy of my orgasm vent, I screamed every
repulsive word, phrase and cliche he suggested.

"Yes baby, fuck me with your solid dick. Pound your monster cock in my
pussy. Oh yes, I love your big black cock reaming my tight white pussy" I
screamed and much, much more as I felt his seed filling my pussy while I
succumbed to a second and even a third orgasm of my own.

When we were both done, I sat drained and still impaled upon his softening
colossus.

"Now that's what I call a fuck!" he laughed, "be sure to always make that
much noise when ever you orgasm, I ever find out you kept silent I will be
sure to make matters a good deal worse for you.

"I think we will make a good reaming of your cunt, and maybe even your ass,
the final order of the day. Under no circumstances are you to clean
yourself up, I like the idea of you having to walk home with my seed
running down your legs.

"Now I have made you an appointment at Antoine's for five thirty, so that
gives you twenty five minutes to get your skinny white ass over there. You
are to walk there, no taking the bus or accepting rides, I want my seed
clear down to your ankles by the time you get there. That way everyone will
see, and smell, exactly what a little whore you are. Now get off me and get
yourself down to Main Street."

I obediently climbed from his lap, fighting the strong urge to wipe some of
our combined juices that immediately dripped from my pussy. Quickly I got
dressed in the remains of my skirt and blouse and, as ordered, stopped on
my way out the door to loudly say, That was a great fuck lover boy, Thank
you." Before blowing him a loud kiss while leaning over to ensure anyone in
the corridor would be able to easily see up my shortened skirt to my semen
drenched pussy lips. I then wiggled my way past the hateful glances of the
few people still in the office, out the front door and off to the next
scene of my continuing degradation.


FOUR Rogers certainly got his wish about his cum running down my legs. By
the time I reached the salon, a little before five thirty, it was clearly
down past my knees and highly visible as it glistened against my tanned
legs. By far the worse part was the odor; even I could smell it strongly,
as the unmistakable scent of fresh sex wafted after me as I sashayed along
the rush hour sidewalk. My unsupported breasts doing their damnedest to
leave the inadequate confines of my open blouse and the hem of my severely
shortened pleated skirt occasionally revealing even more of my ass and
pussy as it was lifted by the occasional breeze.

As I entered the salon, Antoine came over to introduce himself. "You must
surely be Candie? Bill Rogers gave us a description of his new whore, but I
must say he didn't do you justice." Any ideas I had that this might be a
compliment, where dashed by his next words, "No, you are even more of a
slut than he said. We could smell your rank pussy a good block away!  "Now
get your jism filled ass over to that chair, but wait, let me put some
newspaper on it so that you don't ruin the upholstery."

The snickers and loathing glances of the staff and other customers were
further humiliation, as I had to stand by the chair while he laid out the
newspaper as if for a cat or other pet. Only when it was covered by a layer
several pages thick was I permitted to sit.

For the next two and a half hours I was forced to sit there and endure a
steady level of abuse from staff and customers alike as Antoine and his
assistant set upon me with countless tools, chemicals and other instruments
of feminine beautification. The salon was warm and it felt kind of good to
be the subject of their ministrations, and so after the rigors of my day, I
dozed off in to an exhausted and very deep sleep.

When, finally I was awoken and ordered to stand I caught my first site of
the new me in the proffered mirror, I was dumbfounded. Firstly I was naked,
and secondly I had known I was to be made a blond, but nothing could have
prepared me for this transformation.

My hair, originally straight, shoulder length, and black, was now an
enormous pile of highly teased almost psychedelic platinum, piled so high
as to add a good eight inches to my height.

My face, also transformed through multiple layers of garishly colored
cosmetics, was framed by several layers of the newly brilliant blond
ringlets that originated either side of my tricked out bangs that curled
down to stop just above my eyebrows. The majority of my hair had been
teased and fluffed out and was held in place by what must have been a full
can of hairspray into what can only be described as a really `big do.'
Stunned beyond words, I raised a delicate hand to my face, only to see that
I now sported talons a full inch longer than anything that could be
described as natural fingernails. They were monstrous and I could not begin
to imagine how I would be able to perform the simplest of tasks with them.

Aghast at the reflection of the new me, I slowly recognized the other
liberties that had been taken with me, my ears now sported two new holes
each so that I now had a total of four piercings in each. My toenails now
matched my fingers in that both were painted a startlingly vivid pink that
other than the multiple layers of gloss lacquer that made them shine so,
matched the dark red lined and highly glossed lipstick upon my open mouthed
lips. Apparently an electrolysis device had been used to finely shape my
eyebrows into a high arch, accentuating my baby blue eyes. At least the
little you could see of them through the glutinous coats of mascara that
had been used to thicken the enormous false eyelashes through which I
peered involuntarily seductively. A kingfisher bright blue and silvery gray
shadow had been heavily applied to my eyelids, further accentuating my
eyes, while giving the unmistakable message that I was no more than a total
slut.

The last revelation to permeate the shock was that I was no bald down
below, apparently the same electrolysis gun had been used to totally remove
any last vestige of my pubic hair. The final liberty being that I now
sported a tattoo where once my pubes had resided. In small black letters,
though large enough to be clearly legible from a distance, was the legend;
PUBLIC PROPERTY, and then below, TRY ME. With a big red arrow pointing down
to my highly visible denuded pussy lips, still leaking Mr. Rogers and my
love juices.

To the hoots of derision from the other employees, the other customers
having long since left, I hurriedly squeezed my way back into my blouse and
too short skirt, but could not find my shoes.

Seeing what I was looking for, Antoine offered, "Oh don't bother about
those old shoes, Bill said to get you something more suitable to wear
home. So we got you these." He held out a pair of white strappy sandals of
which the soles, at two inches, were higher than the heels of the pair I
had worn in here. They were monstrous set atop heels a good six-inches high
and with a large gold buckle securing the strap above each ankle. I could
barely walk in them such was there height.

When I did at least mange to move without breaking an ankle, they served to
even further accentuate the way in which I involuntarily swung my hips and
deliciously shaped ass from side to side, in turn causing my unfettered
breasts to gyrate and wobble in an altogether lascivious manner.

"Bill says you are to wear them tomorrow and to keep your makeup intact so
that he can see it" Antoine said as he guided me towards the exit. There
was obviously no sympathy to be had for my plight in the salon and I was
hurried out the front door to make my way home.

The streets were now dark and definitely no place for a young lady to be,
especially one so scantily dressed as me. Still I made it home with little
more than five propositions, two confrontations with women accusing me of
being the whore I felt.

One of them spat in my face and would have got a good deal more physical if
I had not taken to flight, breasts and ass all over the place. That and the
humiliation of being followed to my front door by a police cruiser
obviously convinced I was up to no good made up my mind that I would not be
going out again tonight.

I had never felt so relived to be home in my life. Even another call from
the `old me', inquiring as to my day, and insisting I tell every little
juicy secret, did not dispel the feeling of relief I had at being safe in
at least some kind of sanctuary. Only the promise of more little traps
lying in store for me reminded me that it was a long way from over.


FIVE The next morning found me at work, preparing a pot of fresh coffee, at
precisely seven thirty.

At a little before eight, the man himself arrived, breezing past me without
so much as a `good morning.' A short while later the intercom on my desk
barked with the sound of his voice ordering me to come straight in. I
quickly poured him a cup of coffee and teetered in atop the ridiculous
sandals.

"Ah, good morning slut," he said as he surveyed me in my new ridiculous
hair-do. It had taken me over thirty minutes this morning just to get my
hair fluffed up to all its glory, plus another half-hour to retouch my
makeup. "I must say you are looking a lot better this morning. Turn around
let me get a good look at you.

Still tottering atop the six-inch heels, I slowly rotated on the spot,
permitting him to take in the full sight of me. I was wearing the
high-heels; the garish pink nail polish clearly visible through the open
toed sandal and my bright white stockings. The stockings served to
accentuate my long legs as they tapered up until they disappeared beneath
the way too short hem of the red mini-skirt I had elected to wear. The
skirt was stretched tightly over my shapely ass with the garter straps
securing my stocking tops fractionally below the hemline, clearly
discernible through the thin fabric. A silky looking bright yellow blouse
was stretched equally tightly across my plentiful bosom, and as per my
orders the top four buttons were left undone to ensure little of my deep
cleavage was hidden. The front of my blouse was actually open enough to
afford everyone frequent glimpses of the lime green pushup bra I wore which
served to further accentuate my splendid d^Âcolletage.

For the next ten minutes I was forced to assume all manner of sexy poses as
the perverted Bill Rogers enjoyed the new me. My modeling career really
took off when he suddenly leapt to his feet, announcing, "Hold it right
there, don't you dare move. I have an idea..." And with that he rushed out
of his office.

He returned a few minutes later, carrying an expensive looking 35mm
camera. My jaw dropped as I realized what he had in store for me next.

Sure enough, I was then made to repeat all the ridiculously sexy poses as
he snapped away with a blinding flash. Slowly I removed piece after piece
of my clothing, until I lay reclined across his desk wearing nothing other
than my stockings, garter belt, shoes and my permanently glued in place
smile. He had me bed over his desk affording the camera easy access to my
denuded pussy, delighting in telling me how much he liked my fresh tattoo.

Finally, after three whole rolls of thirty-six exposure film had been used,
he was satisfied that he had covered my humiliation from every conceivable
angle. "Right then," he said "let's get my morning blow job out of the way
and then you can run these down to the film lab."

And so I once more assumed my position under his glass topped desk and set
to work on his enormous tool still only clad in stockings, garter belt and
shoes. Midway through, with his member buried all the way in my seemingly
willing mouth, I was interrupted by him saying, "Oh come on in Mike, don't
mind young Candie here, she's got her mouth full right now!"

His strong hands held my head in place, preventing me from seeing exactly
who Mike was, and I was left with no alternative but to get back to the
task of bringing him off while he enjoyed a pleasant chat with the unseen
stranger. Of course I was the central theme of their conversation, mainly
Rogers telling Mike how `hot I was for him' and `how willing I was to
anything to please him.' Inevitably, as my head bobbed furiously up and
down Rogers' impressive shaft while my evilly nailed hand gently massaged
his large testicles, Mike inquired if my `services were available to
anyone?'  Bill Rogers did not disappoint my already low opinion of him as
he replied, "Oh sure Mike, Candie loves to fuck anyone, though I did hear
there she usually charges new comers."

My god, he was now acting as my pimp! I would have bitten him but for the
strong grip he took on my hair as he said it.

Mike was not dissuaded in the slightest by the revelation that I was
apparently a hooker. "Sure, if that's the case, I have a couple of buddies
who would love a piece of ass like that. But tell me, does she mind a
little bit of... well shall we say S and M?"

"Sadomasochism? Hell no! Candie's really into that shit. There's nothing
she loves more than being tied up and being forced to perform all manner of
weird shit."

Mike was clearly impressed, "Great, any idea how much she charges?"

Rogers was clearly in his element as he held off his orgasm to ensure I was
fully distracted, "Well I'll have a word with her when she's free. I'm sure
that for a friend of mine she'd be happy to offer a discount. How long you
thinking of?"

"Well, how about a weekend?"

`A weekend?! Please God, don't let him do it. A whole weekend of weird S&M
shit could kill me. Please let him be a greedy bastard and make the price
too high' I silently prayed as I tried to slide a talon nail up Bill Rogers
sphincter. Partly to bring him off quickly so that I could participate in
the conversation, and also to hopefully cause him a little discomfiture.

As if reading my mind, Rogers replied, "Well, we'll have to talk with
Candie when she's free, but I don't think it would be more than a couple of
hundred dollars."

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He had done it. Not only was I now officially a hooker, a
pussy for hire, but I was a cheap one too!  Inevitably, Mike recognized
this for the bargain it was. "Deal!" he cried. Get her to check her
calendar to see when she's free and we'll set it up as soon as possible."

Sure thing Mike, I'll send her to see you later."

And so he left. Now without distraction Mr. Rogers was suddenly able to
shot a very full load of his hot cum straight into my throat and mouth. He
was careful to ensure that at least part of it ended up running from my
overly full mouth to run down my chin and onto my breasts below which I
then had to massage in.


SIX I was permitted to get fully dressed though, unknown to me at the time,
Mr. Rogers deciding to take advantage of clause 3.6.2 in our contract was
about to have another idea. I was then dispatched to the photo lab, some
five blocks south, to drop off the films he had shot earlier. With
instructions to obtain a receipt, to ensure I had indeed dropped off the
films which he carefully sealed along with instructions as to what he
expected in a tamper-evident envelope.

As I made to leave the office, Rogers called me back. "Hang on a minute
Candie."

"Yes Mr. Rogers?" I dutifully answered, wearing the obligatory smile,
despite the sensations of contracting flesh caused by the drying cum on my
perfectly displayed breasts.

"I have an idea." His smile left me in no doubt that I would not like
it. He furiously scribbled a lengthy note, before sealing it in an envelope
and scrawling a name and address on the outside. "Here, I want you to make
a detour to see this man," he handed me an envelope and I read the street
address about a mile from the office. "Ask for Jeff." He continued, "He's
an old friend of mine, and give him the envelope. It contains instructions
as to what you are to buy there, and some other matters you are to take
care of while there. Now I know you don't have any money, so you will have
to set up an account there, don't worry, I have given you the only
reference you will require. Now you know where it is?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Rogers" I replied.

"Good, well hurry along there, we still have much to do."

I tamely hurried from the office, once again ignoring the hostile stares of
my office workers who had obviously decided I was somehow trying to sleep
my way to the top, and wriggled and sleazed my way out of the building.

I ignored the incredibly rude abuse I received as I walked past a
construction site down the road, totally oblivious to way in which the
heels made my ass and breasts sway, and made it to the address indicated on
the envelope.

I was disappointed, but not surprised to find it was an adult
bookstore. Gathering up my courage, I entered the store. It was
surprisingly dark inside, all the windows having been painted over, I
suppose to conceal both the contents and the clientele, but I wiggled my
way to the counter and asked for Jeff.

"That's me." came his reply as he mentally undressed me.

I handed him the envelope. "Bill Rogers said to give this to you."

He opened it, and as if to confirm my worst fears, a wicked looking smile
lit up his pallid face. With a chuckle he turned his attention back to
me. "It says here that you are Bill Rogers private little slut. Is that
true?"

I had no alternative but to play his game. "Yes Sir."

"Yes Sir what?" came his response, with a thoroughly evil smile. I noticed
that two or three of the patrons were gathering around, both to feast their
eyes on my scantily clad body, and to enjoy what looked to be an
interesting exchange.

Drawing a deep breath and trying to ignore the way their eyes danced all
over my tight skirt clad ass and barely concealed breasts, I dug myself in
deeper and replied, "Yes Sir, I am Mr. Rogers private little slut."

"Wow" he whistled, "it says that you do what ever he says, no matter how
depraved or sick it might be. Is that true also?"

Damn the man, did he have to make this so damned difficult. Lowering my
gaze and trying to ignore the way my skin wanted to crawl, I replied in a
clear voice" Yes Sir, I do what ever Mr. Rogers wants me to, no matter
what." Then deciding to embellish the story a little, and to perhaps
provide me with some shred of credibility, I added, "I think Mr. Rogers is
great, he is such a stud."

Jeff had obviously read otherwise, or could see straight through me as he
pushed on, "Do you let him fuck you? Does he stick his big black prick up
your tight little white ass? Is that his cum I see on your splendid white
tits?"

I had committed myself to a course from which there was no retreat, "Yes
Sir," I replied, my face burning with shame, "Mr.

Rogers does what ever he wants me to... and I love it."

"Wow!" he said again. "Well it says here you are to set up an account with
us." He reached for some papers below the counter. "Bill says your
writing's not very good and that I am to fill out the form for you. So
let's be having your details then, hand me your driving license..."

Such had been the state of befuddlement with which I had left my office,
far too concerned with the prospect of my becoming a common whore for
Mr. Rogers friends and associates, that I had come out without my purse and
documents.

And so I had to stand there and tell him my name, address, home phone
number, age, place of employment and so on, in front of a bunch of sicko's,
some of which I noticed were fervently copying down my details for their
own nefarious purposes.

"Good, said Jeff, having filed my account application and once more
reaching for the hated letter. "It goes on to say that while you are here
you are to pick up some Ben Wa Balls, make some notes on our wide selection
of vibrators and dildo's to report back to Bill with, and." An evil smile
once more lit up his countenance; "You are to blow me. Any problems with
any of that"

Damn Bill Jenkins, no person should be subjected to such abject
humiliation. "No Sir..." I mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch Candie?"

"No Sir," I repeated louder, "I have no problem with any of that."

"Good then, lets go get you some love balls, then you can get me my rocks
off, and then finish up with you making your notes on out large collection
of lady pleasers."

He came from behind the counter, and with a large ass placed in a highly
ungallant position upon my ass, steered me over to a display counter. I
soon learnt that Ben Wa balls were large stainless steel sphere's, I had no
idea as to their purpose, but harbored little hope of being permitted to
enjoy such ignorance for very long. Sure enough, Jeff selected a large and,
as he handed them to me I found, very heavy pair, and said, "Now why don't
we go get a little privacy out back and you can put them in while you take
care of me."

As we headed towards the rear of the store, he called across to his
assistant, "We'll be in number three if... ah, if anyone should be
`looking' for us..."

I thought it extremely unlikely that anyone would be looking for me here,
but let the comment pass, failing to see the delighted look of
enlightenment on the face of his colleague.

He then led me through a door at the back of the store and down a dimly lit
corridor with several doors off one side. We passed the first two,
obviously empty booths, before he confirmed the third one to be also
unoccupied. The door opened into a tiny room, lit with a single glaring
high wattage bulb overhead, and populated with nothing more than a small
vinyl covered seat in front of a large television screen, currently dark.

It was barely big enough for the two of us as we squeezed in, he taking the
opportunity to give my left breast a good grope as I squirmed past him. He
took the seat, leaving me standing in front and facing him.

"Now why don't you lift up your skirt and Uncle Jeff will help you with
your new love toys."

I could see no alternative but to comply, and so, with my ass pressed
against the grimy wall, managed to work my red mini up over my wide hips.

Jeff whistled his approval as my lime green thong covered pussy came into
his view. He reached out to touch my hips, his cold hands causing me to
involuntarily jump, as they felt clammy against my warm skin. "There, there
my pretty", he cooed as if to placate me as he worked his hands under my
skirt to squeeze my ass cheeks, pulling my groin closer to his face. I
heard him take several deep breaths, as my panty-clad pussy was mere
millimeters from his face. His tongue darted out to trace the top of my
mound through the silken nylon of my panties, leaving slightly darker shade
where it touched. Slowly, obviously savoring every second of the time he
had me under his control, he worked the thin lace band of my panties over
my hips and then down my thighs. His hands constantly running over my
stockings clad thighs and unprotected ass.

With my panties out of the way, now down around my ankles, he looked up at
me and, with sincere honesty said " Candie, I love your tattoo, did Bill
get you to do that?"

"Burning bright red with the shame of a comparative stranger seeing my new
tattoo, I nodded, "Yes Sir, he did."

With a soft almost caring tone, he responded, "Well I think you still look
delightful, you really are a joy to behold young Candie."

I later learned to be less gullible, but at this time his tone convinced me
that he held some type of genuine feelings for me.

You have to remember that for the past forty-eight hours all I had
witnessed was scorn, lust and total disregard for any of my feelings, so
when someone appeared to sincerely have some iota of care for me it felt a
little better. Like a said, gullible.

He smiled at me, this time warmly, and returned my wide eyed gaze,
commenting, as if worried for me, "We're going to have to get you a little
wetter if we are to fit your love balls in without pain, OK?"

Not knowing what was in store for me, but anxious to avoid pain, I meekly
nodded my head and whispered, "Umm... OK."

He dropped his head back down to be level with my crotch. What ever I had
expected it was not what happened next. His tongue shot out to my exposed
pussy at the same time as his hands fastened on to my golden ass cheeks and
he pulled me fully onto his face. I let out a loud squeal as his tongue
shot straight to my clitoris. Almost instantly I stopped struggling against
him as an incredibly rosy glow emanated from his tongue. Within seconds he
could release his grip on my buttocks as I freely leant in towards him,
affording his tongue free access to me. His hands resumed there exploration
of my ass and silken thighs, I didn't care at all though, I was instantly
lost in the rapture his tongue was giving me as it tickled and massaged my
eagerly responsive bud. My breath came shorter and shorter and I became
aware of a distant voice calling encouragement, oblivious to the fact that
it was me who was screaming out encouragement as an incredibly powerful and
rapid orgasm overcame me. As I broached the point of no return at full
force, I gripped his shoulders tightly, not caring of the pain my long
fingernails must have inflicted on him, and pulled his face as far into me
as I could.

With huge racking sobs I rode out the last vestiges of ecstasy and released
my death like grip on him. Using the fact that I was totally distracted and
that my thighs were spread as far apart as my panties bunched around my
ankles would permit, he slid the two three-inch diameter stainless steel
balls up inside of me and yanked my thong fully back into place.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

I was still too exhausted to respond and could only nod my head with a
stupid, but this time genuine, smile spread across my overly made-up face.

"Good, because now it's your turn." And with that he pushed me down onto
the disgusting floor between his outstretched knees. For once, I felt
almost obliged to administer my lips to another mans (for I still felt
myself to be wholly male) organ.

I was still in such a post-orgasmic haze that I almost failed to notice the
grime upon the floor or the slightly fetid odor permeating from hid
underwear.

Still, I may have had no choice if Mr. Rogers had decreed that I give him a
blowjob, but I felt an obligation to make sure I gave him a damned good
one.

I gently lowered my vivid pink mouth over his engorged tool and began to
slowly, almost tenderly, suck, kiss, and stroke it until I felt the now
recognizable signs of an impending orgasm. I redoubled my efforts,
thrashing my head up and down his tool while my hand squeezed and massaged
his swollen nuts.

As he rode that wonderful wave to full orgasmic realization, he surprised
me and then shocked me by reaching out with his left hand to grab a handful
of my hair, roughly yanking my head back off his cock, before commencing to
masturbate with his right. I was trapped beneath him, his hand holding my
head steady as the first spurt of hot jism shot out and caught me fully in
my left eye. There was no room for me to maneuver as I knelt pinned on the
disgusting carpeted floor as jet after jet of his disgusting semen shot all
over my face and upper torso.

Even when he had wrung the very last drop from his now softening dick he
was not done, he then proceeded to use the tip of his glans to evenly work
his foul fluid into every pore of my face. Smudging my makeup beyond repair
and making large globules fall onto my yellow blouse, green bra and red
skirt below. When he did finally zip himself up and leave the tiny peep
show booth, I was left in a disgusting mess on the equally disgusting
floor.

I now really missed my purse, as without it I had no mirror or cosmetics
with which to try and repair the ravages done to my face. I could only sit
upon the filthy vinyl chair and try to scoop off the larger and more
visible globules of man seed with my trowel like fingernails.

Ultimately satisfied that I could do no more, I made my way out of the
booth and back into the store, noticing that both my knees were covered in
a particularly vile sticky dark mess, and that one stocking was badly
laddered clear up to the top.

As I reentered the main part of the store I was further humiliated to be
greeted by a loud cheer from the assembled patrons, who I learned had
enjoyed my performance by means of a closed circuit television camera I had
completely failed to notice.

As much as I would have dearly loved to rush out into the street, never to
set foot in this wretched place again, Jeff reminded me I still had one
more chore to complete for Mr. Rogers. So I then had to make notes on the
impressively large collection of vibrators and dildo's stocked there, all
the while shadowed by some lecherous pervert who would insist on telling me
how much he had enjoyed my show, or exactly what he would like to do with
me.

But at last it was done and I practically fled the store, film envelope
held up against my chest in an inadequate attempt to cover the worst part
of my semen covered clothing.

I was not slow in realizing the purpose of the Ben Wa balls as I flounced
my way onto the street in the warm morning sunlight. They incessantly moved
and knocked together within the tight, and already very moist, confines of
my pussy. By the time I made it to the lab, I had already had to stop twice
to hang onto some inanimate object as powerful orgasms rocked my body.

The clerk at the film lab was not surprisingly disgusted by my appearance
and a trip to the ladies room revealed the full extent of Jeff's damage. My
right eye was completely gummed up with a foul mixture of jism and run
mascara. Two large strings of his jism still hung from my hair and all over
my face was the evidence of semen diluted cosmetics. My blouse bore another
large gob of cum upon my left shoulder and both it and my skirt were laced
with trails as if they had been host to a large party of snails. I was a
cum covered wreck.

By the time I made it back to the office, with a duly signed receipt, my
panties were soaked through from my own juices as I had suffered the
indignity of three more Ben Wa inspired earth shattering orgasms. The last
occurred as I entered the office building and had required me to physically
hang onto the receptionist's desk as I gasped there for breath. She gave me
a very disgusted, and not at all sympathetic, glare. I knew my reputation
was going to be going downhill real quick.


SEVEN

It had to be a good twenty minutes before Mr. Rogers was able to bring his
uncontrollable laughter under rein. He had insisted I tell him the complete
story as to exactly how I came to be in such a hideous mess.

When, at last, he was able to regain something close to composure, he
laughed out, "But there was nothing in the letter about you having to give
you a blow job, I'm afraid you have been had. Taken for ride - so to
speak!" More laughter erupted from his corpulent belly at this time,
leaving me free to sit there, squirming in the knowledge that I had been
well and truly suckered.

It got worse when Mr. Rogers studies the list of vibrators I had so
studiously made in the awful shop. "But you make no mention of what colors
the different models are in. How can I be expected to decide which models
you are o have when I don't know what colors they come in?"

I could only sit there dumbfounded as I had meticulously noted length,
girth, and number of batteries and battery size, in other words, everything
I thought he would want to know. Except color.

"Well there is nothing for it," his words interrupted my bout of self-pity
and loathing, though his next ones made me feel even worse. "You will just
have to go back this afternoon and get me a list of every color each model
is available in."

I could only sit there dumfounded, until his glare told me it was not open
to negotiation. "Yes Mr. Rogers, I will return this afternoon and make a
list of every models color availability."

"Good girl Candie, you might not be the brightest, and to look at you now
all covered in cum, you are currently not the cleanest, but you do sure
make for one hell of a fuck toy!"

I was dispatched to the ladies room with strict orders not to come out
until I was at least halfway presentable. No mean feat as what I really
needed was a hot shower. Still I made the best of what was available,
namely a face cloth, lots of hot water and then copious quantities of
cosmetics which I piled on until the face that stared back at me from the
mirror was back to its more usual whorish self. Minus the bucket of cum
Jeff had tricked me into permitting him to deposit upon me.

Even managed to rinse the worse of the cum stains from my blouse and skirt,
my stockings were still badly stained by the semen and goodness knows what
else countless perverts had deposited upon the peepshow booths floor but,
hopefully, I could get another pair at lunch time. A heavy dose of perfume
effectively covered the fragrance of sex that permeated from my
ever-charged loins.

And then I was sent to close my first client in my new life as Bill Rogers'
whore. He sent me to see Mike over in accounting with strict instructions
to turn on the charm, i.e. really flirt with him, and to see when he wanted
my `services'.

I traipsed along to the accounting office and found Mike with one of his
colleagues locked away in a small office going over some type of financial
projections. My knock was immediately met with a scowl for being
interrupted, but instantly transformed to one of welcome when he was who it
was. Gluing my now familiar fake smile in place, I slowly strutted into the
room, "Mr. Rogers said you wanted to see me Mike?" I cooed sweetly.

"Ah yes... um... Candie" he blustered, immediately dismissing his
apparently junior colleague with a "Will you excuse us please Andy? Make
your self comfortable Candie."

As the other man left, drinking in a good look at me, I felt suddenly
lightheaded, as if I was somehow no longer responsible for my actions, I
found I was lowering myself to lie on the table in front of Mike. The
departing Andy was treated to the spectacle of my long shapely legs, vivid
green panty clad butt, and suspenders as I moved, seductively, towards my
prey. Trying to reassert my entirely, still active, male reactions and
drives, I tried my hardest to regain control over my actions, but I
continued to act the flirtatious woman I had been forced to become. I
reached out a manicured and heavily bejeweled hand and gripped his tie,
forcing his face nearer to mine.

"Hello there Mike, I don't think we've been properly introduced, my name is
Candie `BJ' Row, I think you can guess what the BJ is short for?" Christ,
just listening to me was enough to make me want to blow chunks, why was I
speaking like this? Still Mike was drinking up every word of it, especially
when I slowly licked my bright pink lips to further emphasize a completely
non-ambiguous point.

He was struck speechless, unfortunately requiring me to continue, once
again forcing my male feelings to the back I pushed on, "What did you think
of the little show you got to see in Mr. Rogers office this morning? Did
you like the sight of me under the desk, taking his big black cock all the
way down my little throat? Did it make you hot? Go on, you can tell
Candie."

What the fuck was happening to me? This wasn't the real me speaking, it was
as if I was under someone else's remote control. And then, as if things
were not already way out of hand, I did something totally alien to me,
something that makes no sense, even given my much-changed circumstances. I
sat up and swiveled on the desk so that I was perched on the edge. My
bestockinged legs on either side of him as my skirt forced was up high
enough to ensure he could see my hairless pussy only slightly obscured
behind the tightly stretched and damp fabric of my bright green thong
panties. I seemingly voluntarily, yes me, who only forty-eight hours
earlier had been a normal man, reached, with my pink painted hand, down
under the table to his crotch and began massaging his awakening cock
through the thin fabric of his trousers.

All the while I was licking my lips in a thoroughly licentious manner, mere
inches from his face, and talking real dirty to him.

Even as I acted the total whore, my conscious mind was screaming for me to
stop. Somehow I was acting as if programmed, and though my mind was
screaming in revulsion, my actions continued to portray me as the whorish
young tart everyone else wanted me to be.

Finally he regained his voice as he croaked, "Oh yes, baby, that feels so
good."

Continuing to use my right hand to massage what was fast becoming a very
impressively sized cock, I began to use my left to stroke and cup my
breasts. As if offering them up to him, though always being careful to keep
them out of reach of his occasionally lunging mouth. "Go on, tell Candie
exactly what you want to do with her. Tell me what you will do when you and
your friends have me all to yourselves, to use and abuse as your captive
slut."

As his erection continued to gore in my comparatively tiny hand, he spelled
out exactly what he had planned. "Oh baby, we're gonna tie you up so tight
you won't be able to move a muscle, we'll gag and blindfold you and use you
in ways you can't even imagine."

Even as his word chilled the real me to the very core, the new
uncontrollable, at least by me, me continued to stroke his now immense
erection with one hand while the other freed my left breast and pulled upon
the engorged nipple. I encouraged him to tell me more. "Oh that sounds so
good baby, go on, tell me more. Tell me all the kinky things you want to do
to me when I am tied up and helpless before you powerful men."

Even if he had wanted to keep anything from me, he was completely powerless
to do so. "Oh Candie, we are going to have so much fun with you. We're
gonna fuck you in every hole you have, fuck you until the cum runs in
rivers and you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Despite the fact that his words chilled me to the bone, I was unable to
stop either encouraging his disgusting outpourings or my physical
manhandling of his torrid member as it twitched and bucked within my long
finger nailed hand in the first throes of a sizeable orgasm.

"Oh God, oh yes Candie, we're gonna humiliate you by taking you outside and
letting our friends and even strangers take turns on forcing you into
acting out demeaning acts which we'll film to humiliate you still further."

A dark stain was spreading in his khaki pants as he unleashed a full load
within his underwear, and still I stroked myself.

Now releasing my grip on his tool to thrust long fingers down the front of
my panties to finger myself to my own powerful orgasm.

We both sat there, panting with the exertions of our own separate
passion. Finally regaining his breath Mike asked me.

"So, are you still available?"

I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of his question, as if anyone would
willingly permit himself or herself to be submitted to such depravity. But
instead, I inwardly choked as I heard some voice from inside a previously
unknown part of me reply, "Oh yes Mike, how about this weekend?"

"Great!" he laughed, not surprisingly amazed that he had found anyone, let
alone a stunningly attractive girl like me, who would permit such degraded
liberties to be taken with them.

I reached down and patted his obviously damp groin, and heard myself
chuckle, "You be sure to get plenty of rest, you can pick me up after work
on Friday. See Bill Rogers about paying me, I don't like to get involved in
the money side of my business."

And with that I carefully wiped my sticky fingers on the front of my
blouse, climbed off the table and headed for the door.

As I opened the door I was surprised by three people leaning hard up
against it, obviously they had been listening to our whole exchange. With
some semblance of my more normal self returning, I felt myself blush
furiously as I breezed past them, only now bothering to cover up my breast
which I had so recently been fondling.


Eight: The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully, I was let off
another trip to the dreadful sex shop due to a lot of real work that
required my attention. In fact I was so distracted by my work, I barely had
a chance to reflect upon the incredible, and disgusting, change that had
overcome me with Mike. What on earth had caused me to act to totally out of
character? Was their some deeply hidden part of my psyche that I had only
just learned of? It didn't seem likely as through out the whole event I had
felt what could only be a normal male reaction to such lewd behavior with
another man. It was as if something had triggered some type of buried
programming to take over my actions, but how?

Mr. Rogers calling me into his office interrupted my musing. I dutifully
skipped in with my shorthand notebook clad to my breast. "Yes Mr. Rogers,
what can I do for you?" I answered all sweetness and light.

"Candie" he replied, "it is time for our afternoon shagging. No don't
bother closing the door, I rather like the idea of the whole company
knowing what a total slut you are. Mike was certainly impressed by your
sales technique, he even volunteered to pay me an extra fifty bucks as you
said he could have you from Friday evening on. By all accounts you are
really starting to like your new role; I will have to see if I can't do
something to change that. After all, I am not looking to provide you with
entertainment, far from it, I want to pay you back for the way you treated
me earlier. This is for me, we are doing all of this for my entertainment,
not yours." A firm hand held high prevented me from arguing my case.

"I don't want to hear it, now just get your clothes off and get up on my
dick. Let's see if we can surpass the noise level we got to yesterday."

With no course open but to comply, I left the office door wide open, before
slowly stripping to the CD he put on (George Michael's Careless Whisper),
all the while licking my lips and smiling as if this was the highlight of
my day. Slowly and as sensuously as I could manage, I undid my blouse,
unclasped my bra and, leaning over his desk, let it fall, revealing my
still erect nipples atop my spectacular breasts. My skirt slowly followed
my bra to the floor, and at his bidding I assumed all manner of erotic, and
I felt disgusting, poses in front of him clad only in my still soiled
stockings, shoes and thong panties. Finally, at his beckoning, I faced away
from him and slowly slid my panties over my ass and down to my ankles, all
the time affording him a splendid view of my ass and aching pussy. It was
while I was bent at the waist with my tanned ass uppermost, that I first
noticed the throng of people also enjoying my show from the open office
doorway. Blushing furiously, I continued my show, adding, at Mr. Rogers'
suggestion, a come-on to several of those in the doorway to come and join
me. Luckily there were no takers.

By the time I had extricated the damnable balls from my sopping pussy and
was ready to climb across him and impale myself upon his manhood, the door
to his office was fair packed with spectators. To my abject humiliation I
then had to slowly lower myself down upon him, all the while cooing how
good he felt and how I just loved the feel of his big black cock stretching
my hot white pussy. Doing my level best to pretend I was unaware of the ten
or so people looking in, though some had left in disgust, I began mewing,
and calling out the obscenities he, unseen by the crowd, prompted me
with. "OH God yes baby. Fill my cunt with your powerful black meat" and "Oh
yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

This went on for a disgusting half hour, climaxing, literally with Bill
Rogers filling my insides with a copious quantity of his hot cum, and the
worst part, my own quite genuine orgasm.

As I knelt before him, cleaning our fluids from his once more dormant
monster, the crown broke up and began to drift off home but not without
letting me know, in no uncertain terms, just what exactly they thought of
me. With Bill Rogers' penis once more all spic-and-span, I was left to get
dressed. I eased my already sodden panties over my poor abused cunt,
feeling fresh fluids soaking them still further, and struggled back into my
bra, skirt and blouse, all looking slightly the worse for wear after their
tough day.

At last, the office now empty, I was permitted a harassment free exit from
the office and back to the sanctuary of my apartment.

As I opened my front door, my phone was ringing shrilly, debating to let
the machine pick it up, I remembered I no longer possessed an answer
machine, and so hurried to answer.

"Well hello there Candie" came an all too familiar voice that had once been
mine, "So how was your second day at the office?"

I have often heard that confession can have a restorative effect, and that
must have been true, for I poured my heart out, ignoring the hoots of
laughter and derision that met my report of my every humiliation. When I
got to explaining my totally unfathomed behavior with Mike, the caller
nearly broke down, such was his hysterics. When he did eventually regain
enough control to be once more intelligible, he remarked, "You see, I told
you there were a few traps out there waiting for you, you must have
triggered one today."

"But how?" I cried, "what did I do?"

"You?" came the response, "probably nothing, you see you have been
hypnotized to respond in a variety of pre- programmed ways to specific
words and expressions. Mike must have said one of the trigger words or
phrases."

My God! If this was true, then I was effectively a walking sexual bomb,
potentially triggered by the most innocuous of greeting, chats or merely
over-heard conversations.

"Oh yes my sweet and sexy Candie, there's many a more fun day ahead for
you. You have no idea what words will trigger what reaction. Though I won't
tell you too much, I will tell you that when you hear specific triggers you
will be over come by the urges to have sex with a minor, an animal, and a
homeless person. These and many more `delights' await you.

Have fun!"

And with that he hung up, leaving me sitting there, too shell shocked and
stunned to even remove the telephone handset from my ear.


NINE: The next morning I arose at my now usual ungodly hour to begin the
long and tedious act of getting myself prepared to meet Mr. Rogers'
approval. After a lengthy shower, trying desperately to wash the kinks and
humiliation from my tanned skin, I sat at my dresser, blow drier, curling
tongs, curlers, and hairspray to hand, and teased my platinum tresses to
their maximum height and body. This act alone took me over forty minutes as
I used the heated iron to shape my fringe into the exorbitant curl that
finished just above my recently shaped eyebrows. The hot iron was also
used, along with some heated rollers, to form the long curls that framed
either aside of my face and that hung down to break just above my
shoulders.

Next followed the equally time consuming ritual of `applying my face.' A
foundation cream covered all my non-existent blemishes and was applied
liberally (to ensure it was obvious) from my neck up. Next began the
intricate solemn ritual of preparing my almond shaped eyes. First I used a
black kohl pencil to completely line them, then the mandatory three
different shades of makeup was applied to my lids. Simply selecting the
colors required advanced thinking as to exactly what I was to wear that
day. Today, I selected a dark pink closest to my lashes, a light pink for
the middle of my lid, and a garish silvery pink for the very top. Each
shade had to be applied thickly enough to ruin a subtlety I might have
wished for ad when completed, the Rogers' desired slut was manifesting
herself before my eyes. Lastly for my eyes were the hated false
eyelashes. With meticulous care, made especially difficult through my
hideous inch plus long nails, I glued them carefully in place, before
coating them with unnecessary, but Rogers' ordered, three coats of black
mascara. When I was done, blinking became a physical effort and was slowed
by their weight to make every move appear an intentional `come on.'  Taking
the last sip of coffee I would be able to achieve without laving the
telltale feminine smudges upon the lip of my cup, I began work on my full
lips. Selecting a shade of pink that would compliment both my nails, eyes
and clothes, I worked several thick coats of a dusky pink into the smooth
surface of my kisser. This was then permitted to dry, while I lined them
with a much darker pink pencil, carefully accentuating every rise and drop
of my naturally full and pouting mouth. Finally, three coats of a sickly
lip-gloss were slathered over my lips to give them the sensual look Bill
Rogers demanded. At last, after more than thorty minutes work, my face was
done.

Standing naked before my mirrored dresser, I made sure to absolutely drench
myself with way too much perfume before turning to my room to get dressed.

For today, I had once more elected to wear full underwear, postponing as
long as possible the days ahead I would be required to go without. I
selected a matching bra, thong and garter set in a shocking turquoise,
white, the obviously preferred color having been ruled out by Mr. Rogers'
lengthy dress and conduct contract.

I slipped the garter belt over my freshly shaven legs and then followed
them with a pair of stockings of a dazzling white.

The stockings were seamed at back, a fact I was confident would gain
Mr. Rogers' approval. Securing the lace tops to the garter tabs, I was
careful to ensure that my long fingernails did not snag the gossamer thin
nylon, and that my seams were perfectly straight. Satisfied, I slipped each
foot in turn through the pathetically inadequate panties and then pulled
them snugly up into place to comfortingly sheath my pubis and hide the
hideous tattoo advertising my public availability directly over my denuded
pussy. The thin strap of the thong felt strange between my buttocks as it
lay upon my ass, but I found I was fast getting used to a whole range of
once alien sensations.

The bra was next, this one offering minimal coverage but with maximum
support. It was of a style I later learned to be called balconnette or
shelf style, and it served to barely cover my nipples while pushing my
already large breasts up and out. The part of the brassier that did cover
my always-prominent nipples was so thin so that it in no way concealed
their protrusion.

I moved with, unrealized grace, to the dress I had elected to wear that
day, and slid it carefully over my head and pulled it as far down my hips
as it would go. Immediately I regretted my choice, as it was far shorter
and deeper cut than I had anticipated, barely covering the tops of my
stockings and showing the startlingly contrasting turquoise bow and center
part of my bra up top. Still, a quick look at my bedside clock revealed
that I was running behind schedule if I was to arrive at the office prior
to my new master. I had no choice but to keep the dress on. Rushing
frantically now, I quickly put two enormous gold hoops in the lower of my
ear piercings and a large set of silver bells in the second, the top two
and most recent holes, being too fresh to require anything other than the
silver studs already in place. A large and clunky gold necklace disappeared
into the depths of my impressive cleavage, and a total of twenty bangles
were forced over my thin wrists, where the jostled and jangled noisily as I
bent to fit a hideous pair of enormous red heels onto my small feet. The
shoes sported heels a good five inches tall and were made from a vivid red
patent leather (conforming to my orders that my shoes should always clash
with the rest of my attire).

With another quick glance at the clock, I gulped down the last of my
coffee, wincing as I noticed the obvious pink smudges I left upon the rim,
grabbed my purse and rushed out my apartment and on my way in to another
day of frightful abuse.


TEN: Thankfully I made it in about ten minutes before Mr. Rogers and had
fresh coffee percolating away when he arrived and marched straight past me
into his office deep in conversation with another man, also black but much
younger, and to my dismay I caught myself thinking, much better
looking. The stranger provided me a lecherous leer as he passed, following
Mr. Rogers before closing the door behind him with an obvious familiarity.

Finding myself fearing the worst, I sat there at my desk, fiddling
nervously while I awaited the summons into his office. For over twenty
minutes I sat there on tenterhooks before the intercom issued my
summons. Quickly tugging the hem of the now much regretted pink dress as
low as it would go, I grabbed a cup of coffee and entered the inner
sanctum.

Once more I felt the lecherous gaze of the stranger upon me as I wiggled my
way in with the coffee cup held before me.

Knowing what was expected of me, I was careful to bend over the desk to
place the cup before Mr. Rogers, affording the stranger an unobscured view
of my stockinged thighs and ass.

Ignoring the stupid smile he now wore, I turned and greeted the stranger
for the first time. "Hello Sir, my name is Candie, may Candie please get
you a coffee?"

"Why certainly Candie, I'll take a cup." He replied, deliberately vaguely.

"And how does Sir take his coffee?" I pursued.

"Oh, like you, I take it black!" Both men exploded with laughter at this,
telling me he was already privy to my new station.

Undaunted, I turned my back and sashayed my way back to the coffee machine,
once again being required to bend, affording them both a wonderful view of
my ass and bright blue lingerie, and returned with a another hot cup of
coffee.

In a silly display of power, Mr. Rogers kept me standing there, slightly
behind his chair, as he and the stranger concluded a lengthy discussion
about the Dallas Cowboy's chances in the coming season. All the while I was
intently aware of the unknown man's eyes taking liberties across my
scantily clad body.

At last, having decided he had proven his power, Rogers finally addressed
me. "Slut Candie, I want you to meet my son, Tyrone."

"Very pleased to meet you Tyrone" I uttered demurely.

"And I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance Candie, father has
told me a great deal about you. I have been looking forward to meeting you,
I see father was in no way exaggerating about... about your charms." I felt
myself blush as both men enjoyed a shared joke. "I have been looking
forwards to... shall we say, looking forward to getting to know you a
little better..." he let the obvious innuendo hang in the air.

Rogers senior piped in, "You see Candie, you and Ty enjoy... shall we say
similar business interests." Once more, shared laughter at a private joke.

Not following their drift, I felt obliged to inquire, "Similar business
interests? I am afraid that Candie does not understand."

"No. No, you wouldn't, would you? Not being terrible bright and all." He
enjoyed the opportunity to put me down once more. "You see Candie Slut, Ty
here is what is commonly referred to on the street, as a pimp."

A pimp? Maybe I was as dense as Mr. Rogers said I was. I was still not
getting the connection.

My look of puzzlement was obviously self-evident as Mr. Rogers frowned and
continued, "Christ, you really are one dumb fuck bunny aren't you Candie?"

I knew better than to try and argue the horrible and unfair question, and
so was forced to reply, "Yes Mr. Rogers, Candie is a dumb fuck bunny."

With slow and deliberate patience, as if explaining a simple fact to a
child, he spelt out his meaning. "You see Candie, Ty here is a pimp. Now
pimps handle prostitutes. I don't mean physically `handle' them, but they
arrange their clients, what we call `johns', and then collect the
money. Are you following me?

Slowly realizing the dreadful way this conversation was inevitably headed I
slowly nodded and replied, Yes Mr. Rogers, Candie is following you..."

"Good. Well then, as an established pimp, Ty here has kindly agreed to take
care of you in your new, after hours, career as a prostitute."

No, please God no, he couldn't be serious. Despite full knowledge that I
was breaking his precious rules, I cried "Oh please no, please Mr. Rogers,
don't make Candie into a prostitute. I'll do anything, but please don't
make Candie a whore!"

Smiling at the absolute power he had over me, and the obvious despair his
words instilled, he replied "Well I think it's a little late for that,
don't you? I mean, after all who was it who did such a good job in
persuading young Mike to pay for your sexual favors this coming weekend? It
wasn't me, I merely sent you up to talk with him. I heard all about how you
jerked him off while fingering yourself to an apparently noisy climax in a
public conference room. I think it's fair to say that Ty and I are merely
looking out for your best interests. Wouldn't you agree Ty?"

"Oh absolutely dad, the stories you hear about the terrible things that
happen to young whores who try and go it alone." A note of menace suggested
I would do better to look elsewhere for an ally than young Rogers.

"Anyway Candie, don't get your cute little panties in a twist," he
continued, "I have yet to decide if I even want to add you to my stable. I
will have to taste the produce before I can consider buying..."

So now I had to perform some depraved act to persuade him to make me into a
common whore? Surely things could not get any worse. Could they?

"My sentiments exactly Ty" interrupted Rogers senior, "Candie and I have
been developing something of a morning ritual of late, so why don't you
settle back there, get comfortable, and enjoy the show."

He reached in to a desk drawer and produced the 35mm camera before adding,
"Feel free to join in anytime you want Ty.

Candie, you get busy stripping and you better make damned certain you do it
as sexily as fucking possible, or there will be hell to pay."

And so, fighting back very real tears, I began to slowly gyrate to this
mornings musical selection, Celine Dion's, The Power of Love. Trying
desperately to ignore both the constantly flashing camera, and the evilly
grinning men, I slowly dropped the front of my pink dress to reveal my
turquoise clad breasts beneath. Assuming the saccharin smile I knew was
demanded, I bent towards the camera, cupping my only partially concealed
breasts provocatively. I then dropped on to my haunches, legs spread wide
to allow both spectators and the camera, a clear view of my panty clad
pussy, and garter secured stockings up my skirt. Holding this position, I
reached back and slowly, as sexily as I could manage, removed my tiny
bra. My breasts tumbled free, as if glad to be released from the lacy
confines of my bra. Upon suggestions from the still seated Ty, I pulled and
tweaked my nipples to maximum length, all the time maintaining a look of
absolute rapture upon my face.

Standing once more, I slowly worked the dress down and over my hips,
revealing my panties, garter belt and stockings.

"Time to get dirty!" ordered Bill Rogers, and so I leant over his desk and
fingered myself from behind. My fingers came in to contact with my clitoris
through the thin fabric of my panties, and a lightning bolt of sexual
electricity raced through my body. Oh so slowly, I worked my panties from
between my ass cheeks, providing Tyrone with his first sighting of my
hairless pussy. A low whistle came from behind me, indicting he was not
disappointed with what he was seeing.

Maintaining my pose across the front of the desk, I worked my panties down
over my hips to my knees.

""Spread that luscious pussy Candie, show us some pink." Ordered
Mr. Rogers. I dutifully left my panties around my knees and reached back to
spread my pussy lips with long finger nailed hands. Click, click, click,
went the camera, as he ensured that not a single drop of dignity was left
me.

I was then ordered on to all fours, permitting them countless shots of my
huge tits swaying pendulously beneath me, and of many more shots of my
unprotected cunt and asshole.

"Great work!" cried Mr. Rogers, now I think I am ready for my morning
blowjob. He made to move behind his desk, but was stopped my Ty.

"Tell you what dad, why don't you sit here, and I can get a few good
pictures of young Candie here sucking your cock.

Don't worry, I'll be sure not to get your face in as, after all and no
disrespect, it's not you they're interested in."

His words were not lost one me. Who was the `they' of which he spoke, I had
no time to ponder further, as Rogers senior quickly agreed and moved to the
seat vacated by his son.

Roll after roll of film was shot, capturing every nuance of my first
crawling between his outstretched legs, then licking my lips lewdly as I
undid his zipper and reached into his shorts to free his semi-erect monster
cock. Ty braked a constant stream of orders for me to smile, lick my lips,
grin suggestively as I slowly lowered my mouth over the huge black monster
I held in my bejeweled hand. Slowly, to allow Ty plenty of time to focus,
reload and reposition himself, I took Mr. Rogers enormous cock fully home
and down my tightly stretched throat.

Around and round we moved, with my being face fucked, quite savagely at
times, by the elder Rogers. With me on top, him on top, me standing and
bending over with my breasts gyrating wildly as I furiously bobbed up and
down in his lap.

>From time to time I would get a break to retouch my makeup, which was
either removed along Bill Rogers' penis, or with perspiration as I was
forced to assume ever more imaginative poses. I continually sucked his big
black cock or ran my tongue up its impressive dark length, or sucked
longingly upon his large ebony balls. Regardless, I was at all times forced
to maintain the false, and overtly sexy, smile for the camera's
benefit. One point even found me hanging upside down from his arms as my
head continued to jerk up and down upon his still solid manhood.

At last, I recognized he was tiring, still, not a bad display for a man
nearly thirty years my senior, and the two men discussed the best shots for
a grand finale. They eventually agreed that I should lay upon the brown
carpet, while he knelt over me and `titty-fucked' himself to orgasm. His
tool was by this time slavered in my drool and so he needed no additional
lubricant as she commenced plunging his penis between my breasts, which he
used to encircle his girth by means of his two huge hands pinning them
tightly around it.

As Ty continued to circle, capturing every subtlety of my ordeal, while
ensuring his father's face did not appear in a single frame, Rogers senior
slammed his giant dick in and out of my tits. At last, he could hold back
no longer, and slowing, he jetted enormous globs of hot jism over my face
and breasts. As his son zoomed in and out to capture every degrading
second, he used his oversized fist to masturbate every last drop of his
foul fluid over me.

As his father staggered back to his chair, physically exhausted, I was made
to assume different smiling poses as I either cleaned large drop of cum
from my breasts with a long fingernail to spoon it into my smiling
mouth. Or had to rub the evil liquid in to my tanned flesh as if I believed
it some miraculous cure-all. Only when not a drop of cum remained visible
upon my now glistening flesh, did the son pronounce himself happy with our
efforts.


Eleven: As his father sat exhausted behind his desk, I lay in a crumpled
heap upon the damp carpet but dragged myself on to all fours and headed
towards my pile of discarded clothing.

Ty's words cut me to the bone. "Hang on slut. We're not done with you
yet. Give dad a moment to get his breath back, and then it's my turn."

No, please God, no. I was a wreck. But as usual, my opinion was not sought,
offered or valued. I was permitted to once more effect repairs to my
damaged make up while Mr. Rogers senior drew his breath. Once recovered
sufficiently, the camera was yet again reloaded (with extra time taken to
replace the batteries in the flash such was its workload), and then I was
ordered to crawl over to Ty and remove his jeans, primarily by means of my
teeth! No easy feat when you are so tired and forced to maintain a happy
yet sexy grin.

With the now almost normal accompaniment of the constant whirring and
clicking of the camera's shutter, I forced my aching mouth to pull down his
zipper and then tug his jeans as far down his thick legs as I could
manage. Even shrouded by his white underwear, I could see that Ty had
inherited certain physical aspects of his father's physique. And as I
pulled his underwear down to join his jeans, the second black penis to
enter my life uninvited, sprang into view. It was every bit as large as his
fathers, and as my tired lips engulfed it, my jaw stretched to breaking
point, an unpleasant thought entered my befuddled mind. One day, probably
not too distant, I would be forced to `entertain' both the Rogers' monster
cocks at once, entered my head as I to began the inevitable path up and
down the brutes ten inch length.

However, I learned I was not to suck Ty off, oh no, I couldn't be that
fortunate. He had other, far more sinister plans for me.

Content for me to pleasure him with what was fast becoming my experienced
cock sucking mouth, he dispatched his father on some errand I did not over
hear. When at last he did return, I could hear him fumbling around, unseen,
off to my left side. Only when he pronounced himself `All set" was I
allowed to remove Ty's vile penis from my terrible sore mouth and stand
up. Ty's powerful arms encircled me and forced me over his father's desk,
but not before I got a quick look at the new addition. A video camera was
set up upon a tripod to one side and his father was playing around with a
remote control of some sort.

Non to gently, Ty kicked my legs apart, before tying them to the legs of
the desk, resulting in me being lewdly opened before the video camera all
Seeing Eye. His father then reached over and pulled my arms out in front of
me before likewise, tying them off on the legs on his side. I was now
secured, powerless, with my ass stuck up in air, open to all takers. With a
final check of all equipment, the next stage of my debasement commenced.

Both cameras were used to roam about me, sometimes in all too horrific
close up of some exposed part of my anatomy, other times taking in the
whole scene as I lay tightly bound across the front of the desk.

At last, satisfied that the scene was set, Ty moved in close behind me and,
leaning close to my head as it lay upon the desk, whispered. "I am willing
to bet that the following is going to be a first for you sweet Candie. I
may be wrong, but I get the definite impression that you have never
experienced the... shall we say the joys, of anal sex before?"

His words removed any hint of exhaustion I might have felt as I started
desperately struggling against the ropes securing me, and pleading with him
not to force his monstrous proportioned cock up my virginal ass. All to no
avail, my pleas for clemency only served to amuse, and arouse him
further. Even his father was regaining his erection in anticipation of the
pleasures ahead of them.

While I still bucked and struggled upon the cold wood of the desk, Ty
slowly, and with great deliberation, made a great show of sucking upon his
right hand index finger. He then slowly lowered it behind me and out of my
sight, though I knew exactly where it was as he traced it slowly up across
my gaping pussy towards my defenseless anus. With great consideration, and
savoring everyone of my please and screams, he slowly worked it inside of
me. Even the alien sensations of his oversized finger working slowly in and
out of me was horrific, but the realization that it was soon to be replaced
with his oversized cock, sent fresh tremors through my poor body. As his
father concentrated the camera upon the look of revulsion and discomfort so
evident upon my face, Ty withdrew his finger, only to replace `it', with
`them.' Now two huge fingers slowly stretched my poor sphincter way beyond
anything I had previously endured, or though possible.

Again and again, the camera flashed in front of me, while the video zoomed
in and out upon the hideous spectacle before it. In and out went Ty's giant
fingers as up and up went the volume of my screams and pleas for mercy.

Satisfied, I assumed, that my sphincter was stretched sufficiently, Ty
moved back in front of me, temporarily blocking the video's view of me, for
I was forced to lie facing the camera, and forced his giant dick back into
my mouth, temporarily silencing me. "Now Candie, you must realize that this
all the lubrication you are going to get, so I suggest you ensure you get
it good and wet.

And so, for the first time ever, I all too willingly threw myself at the
task of sucking a man's cock. I slathered as much of my saliva as I could
muster over his giant glans, secretly hoping that I might somehow bring him
off to an early climax. But stamina appeared to be another inherited
attribute within the Rogers' family, and all too soon he withdrew and
disappeared behind me.

"Now try and relax a little Candie, it will hurt a good deal less if you
relax." He said, `as if', I thought as I renewed my futile pleading for him
to please spare me.

The feeling of a very large and very unwelcome interloper at my rear door
told me he was not responsive to my pleas.

Once more I tried to break the bonds that held me, frantically bucking upon
the desk beneath him, but it was a simple matter for him to use his
superior strength to hold me still as he slowly advanced his penis towards
my asshole.

My mouth formed a perfect `O' as his glans began to force its way inside of
me, this was quickly replaced my loud wailing as it continued its
inexorable journey north, and into my virginal sphincter. The pain was
immense. I felt like I must surely split in two in any second. As his
father walked around, alternately focusing on my face or wildly stretched
anus, the son slowly worked his fist-sized helmet up and into me. My body
was racked by sobs as inch after giant inch slowly forced its way in. I
tried to relax, but the monster just seemed to keep coming. Forcing the
breath from my lungs and resulting in me taking great sobbing breaths of
air as still it came.

"Oh yes, baby. You are so tight, you feel so damned good. Tell Uncle Ty how
good his dick feels inside of you, beg him to fuck your tight white ass."
He ordered me.

Fighting back the sobs, and trying desperately to restore the artificial
smile to my face, I cried, "OH Ty." A sharp slap across my vulnerable
buttock corrected me. "Oh Uncle Ty, your dick feels so good inside Candie's
tight white ass. Go on, please fuck Candie's ass. Slam your solid dark meat
deep inside of Candie's virgin skinny white ass, go on Uncle Ty, fuck
Candie good and proper"

This and much more disgusting filth poured from my mouth as I repeated each
and every obscenity I was quietly imposed to as he continued to work the
beast ever deeper within me.

Finally, I felt his groin against my ass cheeks; he was fully home. He
permitted me moment to get adjusted to his size, as if such a thing was
possible, but then began to slowly withdraw. Fresh lances of pain tore
through my body as the camera flashed incessantly above me and the video
captured every pain filled second of my abject debasement.

As I felt only the very tip of his tool remain, stretching my ass beyond
belief, I prayed that it be over. I was wrong, for the next second, he took
a strong grip on my wide hips and with one mighty thrust, buried the whole
detestable monster back deep inside of me. My scream could have woken the
dead, as I lay stunned, but still gamely writhing on the desk's now
sweat-drenched surface dressed only in red pumps, now grubby white
stockings and a vivid blue garter belt.

He then began a rhythmic raping of my sorely distended ass, slamming hard
into me time and time again, every livening proceedings with a vicious slap
to my unprotected ass cheeks, leaving vivid red hand prints upon my white
buttocks. My only respite was for an adjustment to be made so that I
appeared more `photogenic', though even then Ty remained as if glued inside
of me My hands were untied and I was forced to assume a position where I
supported my own weight. I was told this was to ensure that the wondrous
sight of my huge tits swinging, uncontrolled, beneath me was captured by
the video camera. With Ty's enormous cock buried deep inside of me, it was
an easy matter for him to move me where he wished. Both father and son
enjoyed a few minutes of great hilarity as Ty steered me around the room by
no means other than the solid foot of man meat buried to the hilt in my
intestines. I was powerless to do anything as he walked me around the room,
still bent over, doubled at the waist, my face still distorted by the
immense discomfort of it all. The most fun was had when Ty realized that by
his leaning forwards or backwards, he could make me bow or lift up. And so
there followed a several minutes of him causing me to bow and lift, bow and
lift, or just strand there tits all a jiggling in front of both cameras, as
he maneuvered me via his human remote control.

When at last they grew bored with this, I was returned to the desk, without
ropes to hold me in place, and made to stand there. Having to use my arms
and elbows to ensure my pendulous breasts were in view at all times beneath
me while Ty resumed his pillaging of my desperately sore and distended
ass. And all the time I was to retain the most unfelt of smiles,
permanently glued to my face while crying out words of such filth so as to
impress that this was among the greatest experiences of my life.

After several very long minutes of Ty ramming in and out of me to cause
maximum displacement to my swinging chest, we began moving about the room,
forever followed by both camera's lenses, with me once more me being
steered by cock control. This time the aim was to try and find the
weirdest, most depraved, and usually very uncomfortable positions
imaginable from which Ty could continue to bugger me. From me being on all
fours with me holding my pussy gash wide open for the cameras, through the
missionary position and with my white stockinged legs held high over his
shoulders, to my being crouched down upon my haunches, lowering myself upon
his erection beneath me. In every pose I was required to alternate between
the sickeningly false smile, and a very genuine look of pain and
discomfort.

At last, finally, they were satisfied, and as I forced myself to hunker up
and down upon his still totally rigid tool, he came. I felt the
unmistakable sensations of what felt like gallons of scalding hot cum jet
into my abused bowels.

Ty forced me back on to all fours and then down until my face was in the
smelly carpet with my ass thrust high. He slammed time and time again
inside of me as his sperm shot ever-deeper still within me.

And then it was done. With a slow withdrawal, to permit both cameras the
sight of his monstrously thick penis leaving my now gaping sphincter, with
several large globules of his sperm white against my red sore ass, I was
rid of him.

If I thought that was the end of it all, I was mistaken, for my next treat
was to use my tongue and mouth to clean any evidence of myself from his
slowly slackening beast. Fighting back the vile, I adopted the mandatory
smile and lapped every last trace from him, before dressing him and
reverentially tucking him back inside his pants and jeans with a final,
seemingly loving kiss to the tip.

While I lay in a pathetic heap upon the dark floor, the two men continued
as if I wasn't there, tucking countless rolls of film into lab envelopes
and then rewinding the tape and guffawing loudly while I enjoyed a few
minutes of exhausted sleep upon the ground.


Twelve: I was awoken by a sharp kick to my ribs. "Get up whore." Shouted
Bill Rogers, "I'm not paying you to sleep on the job. Get your slutty white
whore ass up, get dressed and then drop these films off at the lab. And
while you're at it, you can collect yesterdays efforts and stop by the porn
shop to get that list of dildo colors."

I crawled onto all fours before staggering to my feet, unsure of my balance
atop weakened legs and five-inch heels, I slowly stooped to recover my
discarded clothes, but as I made to get dressed, Bill ordered me from his
office. "You can get dressed outside, Ty and I have some important planning
to do for new career. Or should I say careers? We have a couple of other
ideas for you Miss Candie."

I didn't want to hear them and so staggered from his office, wearing
nothing other than a large quantity of cum, red stiletto heels, white
stockings that were now decidedly dirty around the knees, and my turquoise
garter belt. The rest of my clothes and film envelopes I held clutched
protectively before me.

As I opened the door to leave his office, I was not overly surprised to see
several of my colleagues gathered there.

Probably having enjoyed the show I had unwittingly provided. Their
entertainment did not stop there, for I found my exit to the ladies room
blocked, and was roughly told that a true slut like me shouldn't mind
getting dressed in front of them. Too tired to argue, I meekly slid my
thong back into place, alleviating the sensations of Tyrone's cum leaking
from my now strangely empty feeling ass to dribble down my thighs. I
struggled with my brassier, mainly due to exhausted arms, and almost had it
secured when rough hands tore it from me. "A slut like you doesn't need a
bra, I'll take that as a souvenir."

spoke a rough voice, while an uninvited hand reached across and
aggressively squeezed my unprotected breast. I slapped the offending hand
away but was unable to see which of the closely gathered spectators had
stolen my bra. I was really too tired to care, and so quickly turning my
back on them, puled my dress over my head, doing my best to cover my
bountiful charms. As soon as I was dressed, I pushed my way through the
assembled throng and made my way out the front door enroute to the film lab
and much hated sex shop.

I flounced my way down the sunny streets, with my breasts celebrating their
unplanned freedom, (I wonder if I will be able t count this as a braless
day?)  by wobbling uncontrollably within the inadequate cover and support
of my dress. My ass had I decided to get the dreaded trip to the sex shop
out of the way first, it was arguably on the way to the film lab, and
besides, I had always believed in getting the most unpleasant out of the
way first.

Pausing at the portal, I mentally steeled my nerve, and pushed on in into
the gloomy interior. Jeff was in his familiar position behind the counter
and upon seeing me his face lit up. "Well Hello Candie, have you come back
for a little more action?"

Feeling the familiar heat rush into my cheeks but I resolved to not let him
get to me and replied, as evenly as I could, "No Jeff, Mr. Rogers has
forced me to come back to this horrid place to make a list of what colors
your... Um." I felt my face coloring further, and dropped the volume of my
commentary as I continued, " A list of what colors your vibrators and
dildos are available in."

His smile did not waver, instead he came around from behind his counter and
said, "Well then, let me help you there little lady. Any colleague of my
good friend Bill Rogers is very welcome in my humble store." And, having
none too subtly reminded me of his friendship with my Lord and Master, he
placed his all too familiar paw upon my hot ass and began maneuvering me
around the store.

Unfortunately, in my rush to get out of the office this morning, I had
forgotten to bring the list I made on my previous visit, so I was thus
required to start from scratch. As he steered me via an unsubtle hand upon
my ass, Jeff made sure to remove each and every model from the display
case, remove it from its box, and then hand it to me, asking embarrassing
questions such as "So how does this one feel Candie? Do like the texture of
the veins upon the shaft?" or "I bet you can just imagine this one,
vibrating slowly as it eases its way fully up your lovely cunt, those
little fingers there, tickling your clitoris." And all the while he was
slowly working his hand under the hem of my skirt to knead the pliable
flesh of my ass cheeks. Despite my revulsion, his warm hand's ministrations
felt good and I began to moisten at his suggestive words. As I felt his
hand slowly work down between my butt cheeks, I realized, too late, that he
would find evidence of my mornings activities. Just as I tried to squirm
free of his grasp, his exploring finders encountered the sizeable damp spot
on the thong of my panties.

"Candie! I do believe you have been royally butt fucked!" He cried in a
voice, loud enough to ensure the whole store was in on my dirty little
secret. He continued, "Tell me, was it your first time? Were you a backdoor
virgin prior?"

With my pretty face glowing its all too familiar red, even through the too
thick foundation, I bowed my head and replied, "Yes."

""Wow! Did you hear that everyone?" he cried at full volume, "Candie here
had her first butt fuck this morning!" And then to my horror he cried, "Who
wants to see Candie's plundered ass?"

I slapped his hand away from my derriere, but it was too late, the whole
store, all seven of them were rushing over towards us.

I tried to break free from the grip he had taken on my arm, but he was way
too strong for me, and the assembled perverts soon surrounded us. Jeff
immediately began breaking down my resistance. "Come on Candie, just a
peek. We only want a quick look at your lovely ass. Where's the harm in
that?" There was plenty of harm, and all towards me, but before I could
tell him no and to go fuck himself, he raised the stakes,
significantly. "Go on Candie, I'd hate to have to tell Bill Rogers that you
were disrespectful to him. I mean I could tell him you called him something
terrible, something like a dumb nigger with a dick bigger than his IQ..."

He had me, and worse, he knew it. There was no way I could risk such lies
finding their way back to Mr. Rogers, he might very well kill me. My head
dropped with the shame of the situation, and Jeff immediately recognized
his victory. "Come on lads, let's get her over by the window, the lights
much better there. As I continued to stare only at the floor, unseen hands
maneuvered me over to the front of the store and then pinned me bent over a
glass display case.

Strong hands held me in place as I felt Jeff's warm hands slowly, with much
drama, raise the hem of my tiny dress until it was flipped back over my
suddenly defenseless rear end. Several low whistles greeted the sight of my
white stockings and bright turquoise thong and garters framing my tanned
golden ass cheeks. A hushed silence settled over the store as Jeff reached
up and ever so gently eased the waistband of my panties down over my
hips. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, my panties were worked down to my
thighs. Like a firework display, `Oohs' and `Ahs' greeted the site of my
perfectly framed hairless pussy and, apparently still widely stretched,
ass. I only had cause to be thankful that positioned as I was, the
assembled perverts could not see the tattoo that proclaimed me public
property.

Any cause for thanks immediately disappeared at Jeff's next words. "Candie
here has been looking to buy a vibrator, why don't we see which one suits
her best!"

Immediately realizing the full implications of his words, I desperately
tried to push myself up from the counter, but muscular hands held me
tightly in place. I began to scream my protest, but Jeff responded with,
"Eric, go get me one of those ball gags from over there will you?"

I frantically tossed my head from side to side, my platinum blond tresses
flying wildly, but was unable to stop him from forcing the large round ball
between my pink lips. With the leather strap secured tightly behind, I was
completely silenced, reduced to a pathetic series of whimpers and muffled
groans as Jeff made a great show of removing the first toy from its
packaging directly in front of me. "OK Candie, this one is called The
Beaver, let us see how you like it for size."

He then disappeared behind me. A low hum signaled the device was
functional, and I then felt it nuzzling up against my lips. Due to Jeff's
earlier ministrations, I was already moist back there, and after only a few
seconds of his working the damnable toy around my perimeter, it slid easily
home. I drew my breath sharply as its powerful vibrations reverberated
through my pussy and despite my revulsion at being humiliated so publicly,
I could not deny it felt incredibly good. Jeff began to ease it in and out
of me, twisting it this way and that while ensuring it regularly came into
buzzing contact with my clit.

"Hey, " he called, "Who's got a stopwatch? Let's time her orgasms to see
which one she likes the best."

And so there began a series of time trials, each damned toy inevitably
pushing me over the edge to unwanted by undeniably powerful orgasm. They
decided that the clock would be stopped when my orgasm was powerful enough
to cause me to buck my hips to such a degree that I lifted my tummy off the
counter. I did my very best to fight and resist each new onslaught, but it
was hopeless, each and every time my body would betray me and I would
inevitably end up thrashing mutely until I made the grade, lifted my hips
and stopped the watch.

It didn't help my feelings of abject humiliation that I was positioned with
my exposed rear immediately facing the only entrance, so several new
comers, each announced by the bell atop the door, would immediately come on
over and join in the fun. Although the red gag effectively muted me, my
ears could not help but pick up on each and every disgusting comment that
was made. They either concerned questions as to what kind of whore would
permit such perversions, or exactly what they would like to do with me,
given a few minutes in a private room. The inevitable bright flashes
indicated that at least one bastard was recording my debasement for
prosperity, and probably his future gratification.

By the time they had forced every available model up my sopping cunt, I was
exhausted beyond caring, though I never failed to reach a full force climax
with every new penetration.

When finally released, I slid slowly to the floor, to lie in a pool of my
own juices. To exhausted to move, I then lay there, legs played wide open,
affording all an unhindered view of the self-same tattoo I had so recently
thought to hide from them. I was way too tired to care, even when several
more flashes announced that I would no longer be a faceless object in their
torrid photographs.

Looking up, and between being blinded by their flashing cameras, I saw a
couple of them rifling through my purse, apparently jotting down some
detail contained within. My attempts to stop this latest invasion were
hampered both by extreme weariness, and by the fact that I was still
sporting the large red ball gag in my mouth.

Jeff's voice interrupted my attempts, "Well Candie, it appears that you
prefer this model'" he held one up, a wicked device a good eight inches
long and with a strange looking thumb off one side near the base. "This
baby took you over the edge in a record breaking three minutes and
forty-two seconds!" I could only glare at him through my thick false
eyebrows, drooping through my utter exhaustion. He continued unabashed, "So
as a special prize for you, I have decided to let you keep this as a
special souvenir of today's fun."

`Oh yippee-do' I thought through the mists of fatigue.

"But," he went on" the condition is that you have to leave here... wearing
it!"

Oh on, please no. But, as usual, my opinion was not sought, instead I was
lifted bodily to my feet, legs pulled wide apart before the monster was
reloaded with fresh batteries prior to it being forced fully up my so
sorely abused pussy.

I could then only look on mutely as Jeff peeled off a length of about ten
inches of silver duct tape, which he then used to tape it firmly into
place, deep in my gash. Commenting "It's a good job you don't have any hair
down there Candy as it would really hurt having to pull that off when you
get home! Oh, and by the way, don't get any ideas about pulling it out or
turning it off before you get back to the office, I'm going to call Bill to
tell him all about our little survey and your current condition."

He then reached down, turned the vibrator onto its slowest, and heaviest
pulse rate, yanked my thong back into place before I was then
unceremoniously lifted off the counter and practically thrown out into the
busy street outside.

As you would expect, the site of a scantily clad young lady, appearing at
fairly high-speed from a sex shop, with a bright red ball gag strapped
firmly across her mouth, and legs almost too weak to support her, garnered
a fair degree of attention. Worse, as my tired legs nearly buckled beneath
me, I felt my left breast tumble free from the bib of my pink
dress. Ignoring, for the moment, that I was still mutely gagged, I stood
there, leaning upon a lamppost for support, and tried to force the vagrant
tit back from whence it had come. A feat not made easy through the
combination of exhaustion, stray platinum colored curls blocking my vision,
and my hideously long nails. Still, return it to the inadequate confines of
the dress I did eventually do, though only after several of my recent
assailants came out of the store to laugh at my ineptitude. As they stood
there, a couple taking more candid snaps of my plight, several other
bemused onlookers gathered as I leant there, trying desperately to push my
uncooperatively large breast back behind the thin bodice of my dress.

This accomplished, I then set about trying to undo the strap securing the
large red ball within my mouth. This also proved very tricky as the buckle
was hidden beneath my highly teased hair, and once more my unfamiliarity
with my ghastly long nails badly slowed my progress. But, at last, I had it
removed, and stretched my aching jaw to try and work some feeling back into
the tired muscles.

In a fit of peak, I fair threw it at Jeff as he stood laughing in the
doorway to his horrid store. And then, doing my level best to ignore the
laughter of the crowd of spectators, the way I involuntarily swung my ass,
the heavy weight of my unsupported breasts, and lastly, but far from least
the wonderful sensations emanating upwards from my overly stuffed vagina, I
strode determinedly away.

Only to realize I had forgotten both the film envelopes and my purse. I
stopped, choking back a humiliated sob with my shoulders physically
stooped, and realized I had no choice but to return.

As I turned, a loud cheer went up from the still assembled crowd. "Look!"
cried Jeff, "She's coming back for more!"

I again felt the all too familiar burning sensations of shame, but strode
purposefully back. As I made to enter the store, hands tugged at the short
hem of my dress, lifting it up to reveal both turquoise underwear and the
strip of tape securing the vibrator within me. I slapped at the hand, but
another quickly replaced it. Other foreign hands grabbed for my breasts and
a tearing sound indicated the bib of my dress had parted, allowing both my
breasts to spill into the bright sunlight. I had recovered my senses
sufficiently to realize that I didn't have the time to worry about such
details right now. Any hesitation on my part could quickly turn an already
ugly scene into a gang rape. So I steeled myself, pushed past Jeff and the
others. I made it in to the store, quickly recovered my missing articles,
and then spun back for the exit. Thankfully, I was quick enough so that
before they had time to crowd me fully back in, I had turned and fought my
way back through them, ignoring the liberties their hands took with my
exposed breasts and frequently uncovered lower extremities.

Once back onto the comparative safety of the street, I ignored the fact
that both my breasts were completely uncovered and that my bright blue
panties had been worked down to somewhere around mid-thigh, and bolted. At
least I ran as fast as I could atop my five-inch heels, with my panties
preventing me from managing more than a shortened gait, and my large
breasts swinging wildly in the warm sun. Luckily, no one gave chase, for I
knew I was way to exhausted and hampered through disarrayed clothing to be
able to put up a proper fight should only one of them come after me. I
rounded the corner, surprised to recognize the park where my nightmare had
begun, only four days hence. I quickly staggered into its shady cover, my
purse and precious film cargo held protectively before me, affording at
least some degree of cover for my still bared bosom.

Hidden from the street within a shadowy group of trees, I dropped my purse
and the envelopes and once more set about covering my bust. This done, I
was able to survey the damage to the front of my dress, fortuitously, the
damage was not too bad and although it would require me to avoid any sudden
movements, I could at least keep the majority of my milky white orbs
concealed. I then set about pulling my panties back up into place, even
this minor change of pressures around my stuffed pussy was sufficient to
send me over the edge towards yet another mighty orgasm.

As it, finally subsided, I removed a small compact from my purse to affect
repairs to my badly damaged makeup. As I searched for my lipstick, I found
a wrapped package that could only contain a VHS videotape, sealed and
addressed to Bill Rogers. Not daring to violate the seals, I stuffed it
back in my purse. I came also came across a note, and upon opening it read;
`We know where you live Candie BJ Row and we plan to stop by apartment
105. See you soon slut!'  Great, I thought, now I could look forward to
some perverts stopping by to pay me visits at home, the one place I had
felt safe from the terrible humiliations I endured daily. Well there was
nothing I could do about that for now, though if Tyrone was so intent on
being my pimp, perhaps I could mention it to him in the hope that he would
prevent them... who knows? I only knew that such a thought indicated my
acceptance of my new role as his whore, but what could I do?

Leaving such questions unanswered for now, I set about repairing my makeup,
there being no real damage beyond my lipstick which had gotten badly
smudged by the gag. That done, I peeked out from behind the cover of he
bushes to ensure there was no one looking for me, and, trying to ignore the
lust being generated in my pussy, headed off in the direction of the film
labs.


Thirteen: Doing my level best to act normal, no mean feat considering the
day I had endured (it was not even noon yet!) I entered the film lab and
handed over the film envelopes, a shocking ten in all, to the man behind
the reception desk. I received in exchange a large, sealed, package and a
very lewd look, indicating that he was privy to the package's contents.

"Now you be sure to come back anytime!" He leered suggestively.

Blushing, yet again, I signed the necessary papers, bade him farewell and
then wobbled my way out the door, all too aware of his eyes upon my ass as
my hem flitted to afford him a glimpse of my stocking tops and maybe more.

Holding the package to do my best to hide my pretty well exposed cleavage,
I headed back to work, pausing occasionally as the low yet powerful
vibrations of the vibrator trapped deep inside of me instigated several
more mighty orgasms. I cursed the biology that made this body I was forced
to occupy so susceptible to apparently any sexual stimuli.

I made it back to Mr. Rogers' office fractionally before midday, having
been gone for well over two hours. Surprisingly, he was not the fuming
dictator I so feared, instead he summoned me into his office with a
detectable chuckle in his voice.

"Ah Candie, there you are. Jeff Lake called me a short while ago and told e
of the fun you had been having over there!"

Fun! Not exactly the word that sprung to my tired mind.

"So go on then, show me the model you selected."

Sighing as I placed the valuable film package upon his desk, I reluctantly,
but obediently, lifted the hem of my short dress to show him the scene
underneath. He let out another chuckle as he surveyed the broad strip of
duct tape securing the hatred vibrator in place. "Oh very imaginative," he
laughed, before ordering me, "Well come over here slut, and let me see the
beast within."

Knowing full well what he would do, I still walked, cringing, over to him,
he then reached under my hem, peeled back a corner of the tape before
yanking it viciously away.

I screamed as it came away, definitely removing any hairs that the
electrolysis technician might have possibly overlooked.

Bill laughed as he surveyed the pink puffiness of my pouting pussy, caused
by the combination of the tapes violent removal and the mistreatment my
poor vagina had taken at Jeff's shop.

"Looks like you have had quite a day of it" he chortled, "But the good news
is that Ty has decided to add you to his stable of whores" I involuntarily
winced at my new title. "Now why don't you go get us some lunch, I have an
account at the deli down on fifth street, then I have something to show
you, and then we have a new project for you. Tell me, do you have any
experience in web page design?"

This sudden switch to a professional nature threw me for a moment. I
replied, ""Um, no, Mr. Rogers, Candie has no experience in web page
design."

"Well not to worry" he smiled, almost kindly, "we have some excellent
software that makes it a doddle, I'll show you after lunch. Now hurry off,
get me a pastrami on sour dough and get yourself what ever you fancy."

Almost stunned by the first kind words he had ever muttered towards me, I
headed back out to the deli, for once returning without incident.

We ate our sandwiches in relatively companionable silence, and when
finished, he turned his attention towards the package from the lab. Knowing
full well what it contained, I sat there, squirming silently, as she
unwrapped it and began to inspect the contents.

"There are really very good Candie" he said by way of a compliment, but as
they were pornographic pictures of your truly, posed for against her will,
I did not feel any sense of elation from his words. But, drawing on what
was now instinct smiled sweetly and said "Thank you Mr. Rogers."

He tossed several eight by ten full color glossies across the desk for me
to survey. They were wretched, each photograph reflecting the image of a
slut eagerly posing in a series of ever more compromising positions. They
finished with several of me lying back across his desk and masturbating
keenly, all the while smiling or blowing lewd kisses to the camera. One
thing was abundantly clear; there was no way you would ever believe that
the model had been anything other than an all too willing participant.

I hated them, and he loved them.

After looking at them all a couple of times more, he turned to me, picked
up a pile of floppy disks from the package and said, "OK Candie, your job
for this afternoon is to design a web page on which these images will be
displayed."

My jaw dropped open wide as I realized he was serious. With an evil laugh,
he continued, "I want each one of these images to be displayed, full size,
and you are to write at least a paragraph on each page telling the viewers
what a hot little slut you are. You will tell your future fans how much you
love to be fucked, in every one of your orifices, and how you will be happy
to respond to any e-mail they want to send you."

I was still too aghast to say a word in response, so he continued, "Ty has
created what we call a web domain name for you, rather appropriately it is
CandySlut.com. He's got it all worked out, for a small fee visitors will
receive a password enabling them to view your luscious body, and, if they
know how, contact Ty to secure your services as a hooker! Brilliant, just
think Candie, you may very well be the world's very first cyber-whore!"
Pausing only to once more laugh at my crestfallen look, he pushed on "We
have installed Microsoft's latest and greatest web authoring software on
your PC, and Jim from IT is due over to teach you how to use it. I should
warn you that Jim has a reputation for being a little bit of a pervert, but
I think all these techno-geeks are, deep down. Anyway, as this is not
really work related, I have had to negotiate with him, the upshot of which
is that he is permitted free reign with you, so make damned sure you keep
him happy. What Jim wants, Jim gets, understand slut?"

My dumb nodes were not acceptable to him, sir I answered, "Yes Sir
Mr. Rogers, Candie understands, Candie is to do what ever Jim wants."

And so I was dispatched to work with Jim for an hour and a half. During
this time he showed me how to use Microsoft FrontPage and I got to show him
my body and then suck his tiny dick until he came in my mouth. Before he
left he made me give him my home phone number, but then I was left to
create a web page dedicated to destroying whatever small dignity remained
to me.

For the next three and half-hours I worked away at my PC. The software
really did make it easy, though the subject never was. Finally, as five
thirty came and went, I felt I had done my best, and as per my original
instructions, called Mr. Rogers out to inspect my work.

He was. Of course, highly critical, making me note the changes he wanted
made to each page. Usually these changes were `required' because I had not
been as down right lewd and disgusting, as he wanted. And so I got to
retype page after page in which I told my `adorable fans' just how much I
loved being fucked in the ass, covered in cum, triple plugged by multiple
partners, or just plain old fucked in public places. By the far the worst
part was my invitation, repeated on every page, for them to contact either
my Master Ty for a `special one on one', or myself to tell me exactly what
they would love to do with me. After each request of their e-mails, I
solemnly swore to respond to each in turn. A promise I had little doubt I
would be coerced to keep.


So there you are, that brings you fully up to date with the terrible
changes that have been wrought by others to the life of a once normal,
happy even male. I suppose the moral of this story, if any is to be found,
is take the fucking bribe when it is offered!

Let me know your thoughts on this and my other stories. I have more works
`in-progress' but feel a little burnt out right now. But rest assures,
those creative juices (for want of a better expression) will flow again
before too long.


All the best,

The Scallywags