With her fingers curled, she could just about touch the ropes binding her wrists, even if she couldn’t see them. The blindfold they’d used was a length of black velvet; soft, thick and, above all, expertly tied. Jodie didn’t even know if the lamps in the room were still on, although she assumed they were. After all, they needed to see, even if she didn’t.
How long had it been now? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Her right arm was going numb, and she desperately needed to urinate; something she already knew wouldn’t be a problem for any of the men in the room with her.
“If you piss yourself, you piss yourself,” Marcel had said, whilst he and Damon had tied her down. He grinned, testing the ropes around her waist. “We’ll keep a bucket handy. Let you fill it, maybe. Use it to wash you down afterwards.”
He’d been joking, right? Surely, he’d been joking. Shit. With his accent it was hard to tell.
The tall Belgian had been Jodie’s main contact, answering her emails and phone calls, and arranging their meeting earlier that week at the little Starbucks around the corner from his office. Jodie thought him quite good looking for a man in his early fifties. Definitely in decent shape, even if his thick dark hair was greying gracefully at the temples. He’d worn a ripped designer t-shirt and cut-off denim jeans to their rendezvous, and Jodie spent more time admiring his tattoos than reading the small print in the contract she’d signed.
Too late now.
She lay naked; spread-eagle atop a narrow, custom-built wooden bench that was just long enough to provide uncomfortable support between her shoulder blades and her buttocks, which overhung the edge slightly. This end was roughly waist high to her captors, while the other end – the end where her head had been positioned – sloped two or three inches closer to the ground. As well as the blindfold, she’d been subjected to a ball-gag firmly inserted into her mouth and strapped tightly around her face. Her teeth bit into the rubber invader. It was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow, and the blood rushing to her brain as a consequence of being pinned at an angle made her feel nauseous and dizzy. Somehow, Jodie knew Marcel would have little sympathy, even if she’d been able to tell him.
Goddamn it, where are they?
Her shoulders ached; sockets protesting against the acute way her arms had been forced behind her back, pinned together at the wrists by thick rope attached to a steel hoop bolted into the floor directly beneath the bench. Her tits had had been yoked together so tightly the binding almost cut into her skin, slowly strangling the circulation. Damon had taken particular pleasure in that task, wrapping the rope around her ample bosom until they tuned puce; the skin taut, like ripe fruit ready to burst. Two wooden posts stood at the bench’s higher end, each post diagonally separated from it by a foot of empty space and like the steel hoop, firmly bolted to the concrete. Her legs had been pulled apart, tied at the ankles by more lengths of rope that ran across to the pillars before feeding through holes bored into the wood.
The staging of the little tableau was deliberate; the positions chosen less for her comfort, and more for the benefit of the cameras. The website Marcel ran was subscription-based and special-invite only, with internet viewers paying upwards of forty pounds an hour to watch. But this session was different. For one thing, only one invitation had been sent out; its recipient enjoying the show for free. For another, Jodie wasn’t getting paid for her acting skills. Tonight was about testing limits and exploring the darker side of her psyche. That’s why she’d hired Marcel and his crew, their services having been highly recommended by certain online forums, despite the extortionate cost.
Goddamn it, where the fuck are they?
Right on cue, she heard footsteps.
“Ready, bitch?” Marcel’s voice. “Ready to be used like the little whore you are?”
Jodie winced as the ball-gag was forcibly ripped from her mouth. She gasped for air, enjoying a brief moment of respite before a hand gripped her face; strong fingers digging into her jaw, yanking her head upwards as far as it could go.
“I said, are you ready?”
“Y-y-yes!” Jodie stammered, trying to articulate the word around Marcel’s fingers.
The Belgian laughed, shoving her head back down again. “Do you really think we give a fuck if you’re ready or not?” he asked. “You’re just a fucking whore. Understand?”
“Yes!”
The hand slapped her, hard.
“Show some fucking respect when you answer me, you fucking cunt.”
The hand moved across her throat, fingers lightly pressing into her windpipe. It carried on moving down to her chest, where Marcel pinched one of her nipples tightly between his thumb and forefinger. Jodie gasped – shocked at the sudden burst of pain; even more shocked at the sudden burst of heat between her legs.
Christ! What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I said, show some respect,” Marcel repeated, his hand switching across to pull at her other nipple. “Do you understand, cunt?”
“Yes, sir!”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes, sir!” Jodie whimpered, feeling her pussy begin to weep.
“Shut the fuck up, whore!”
Jodie shivered from the wash of air flowing over her naked skin as Marcel moved around to the head of the bench. She felt his body heat as his fingers worked the knot at the blindfold, before yanking the fabric free. Light seared into her pupils, blinding her for a few seconds before they readjusted to this new reality and she could look around, reacquainting herself with her surroundings.
The bench was encircled by several industrial lamps that cast harsh, unflattering white light over everything, reducing the area beyond them to menacing, inscrutable pools of blackness. A large flat-screen television occupied most of the space on a low table set just inside the circle. Closer to the bench, three professional-quality cameras had been mounted on tripods, each strategically placed to catch the action from multiple angles.
Marcel towered above her, looking over her nude body. He had stripped from the waist down, and his thick, erect cock was so close to her face she could lick it if she stretched out her tongue. Jodie stared at his smooth balls, tracing a path along the vein running up the length of his shaft, noticing him grinning down at her before his eyes darted away. She tilted her head to the left, following his gaze.
Shit.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
It was Pig.
She didn’t know his real name. They hadn’t even been introduced. He’d kept his distance from her while the crew had set up their equipment, doing most of the heavy lifting without uttering a single word; instead signalling to his colleagues via a combination of grunts and sniffs that they appeared to understand. He was middle-aged and balding, with sickly pale skin and lank, wheat-coloured hair that was thinning noticeably around his crown and temples. On the few occasions he had approached, Jodie had been repulsed by his presence. Unlike Marcel or Damon, the man possessed no sense of personal hygiene, and his grimy grey polo-shirt was covered with food and drink stains. But it was the enormous belly straining at his shirt that had prompted her to give him the nickname; that, and his dark, porcine eyes sunk deep into the fleshy folds of his face.
Pig.
The same porcine eyes stared at her now; framed by a full-face, featureless white plastic mask he wore to help conceal his identity in front of the cameras. Jodie had assumed Pig’s presence in the room – if indeed, he had to be there at all – was purely technical, but the man seemed intent on joining the action. He stood naked by one of the lamps, the shadow of his grotesquely extended stomach racing towards her. For some reason, Jodie felt herself getting wetter at the sight of him stroking his cock, which was much fatter than she would have ever imagined. Disgusted at her reaction, she turned her head away while Marcel laughed softly at her obvious discomfort.
At least the alternative view was more attractive. A steel trolley had been wheeled into position and Damon bent over it, tapping away at a laptop connected to a portable server by multicoloured cables spilling out of their housing and onto the floor. He was naked, and Jodie ran an appreciative eye over his lean, athletic body. His cock was impressively long, although slimmer than either Marcel or Pig’s; unlike theirs, he was also circumcised. Damon was both the tallest man of the trio and, at twenty-one, also the youngest; only three years younger than Jodie herself. His Ghanaian parents were justly proud that he was the first in his family to attend university, although they had no idea of what their youngest son did to fund his education.
He caught her glancing in his direction and flashed a broad smile at her, running a hand over his shaved scalp as he turned to his employer.
“All set, Marc,” he said.
Marcel grunted, slapping Jodie’s face again, focusing her attention back to him. “Ready, cunt?” he asked, reaching behind to spread his ass cheeks wide as he lowered himself towards her mouth, pinning her head into place between his thighs.
Even though they’d discussed what was to happen tonight, Jodie had reserved judgement for this segment of filming; but this close up, Marcel’s anus looked tight and tempting. She tentatively poked at it. The sweat from his dark crevice tasted sweet and salty, and she could smell the soap he’d used to douche himself before filming. Pleasantly surprised she used her lips, spitting at it; the saliva acting as extra lubrication, helping her probe deeper.
Why am I doing this? Why the hell am I enjoying it so much?
Jodie pursed her lips against the entrance, creating a little vacuum of pleasure as she sucked at his rectum. She ran the blade of her tongue slowly around his rosebud, feeling him shiver, his hips rocking in harmony with her movements. His fingers brushed against her hair as he reached down again, pulling his buttocks wider. His asshole gaped slightly as he gently pushed out, exposing the dark, velvety redness within. It was all the invitation Jodie needed. She curled the tip of her tongue, spearing his opening. Suddenly he clenched, squeezing his anus around her tongue, drawing it inside him as he moaned with bliss.
“That’s it,” he said, pushing down harder onto her face. “Get your tongue in deeper! Lick it... Stick it all the way inside my arsehole, you dirty little slut."
Jodie obeyed, working faster as she tried to please the man squatting on top of her, feeling a burst of heat through her cunt as she tasted his crevice. She was so engrossed in riming Marcel’s ass that at first, she didn’t realise someone had moved between her thighs until she felt the hand on her knee. Trapped between Marcel’s legs, his balls resting lightly on her nose, Jodie realised she couldn’t see Pig anywhere. For a moment, she panicked. Please God, no; please God, no. And then she felt Damon’s nose ring scratching gently against her clit.
Holy fuck, the boy was good!
Damon wrapped his lips around her labia and hummed. The gentle vibration sent a wave of heat flooding through her core, her pussy dripping; a combination of her juices and his saliva leaking out over her inner thigh. If God had answered her prayers at that moment, Jodie would have asked for her hands to be untied long enough for her to grab the back of his head and force his mouth onto her cunt.
Oblivious to her thoughts Damon released her labia, resting his cheek against her inner thigh as he traced his lips along the light swell of her mons. Long, languid licks that ran along the length of her slit; gossamer-light touches that made her nerves tingle as he strayed down to her asshole, mirroring her performance with Marcel. He slid two fingers into her pussy, spreading her folds wide to allow his tongue to snake in, slithering along her inner walls to find her g-spot. Jodie gave a high-pitched squeal of pleasure that was quickly stifled when Marcel shoved his ball-sack into her mouth.
It was all too much.
Jodie felt the gentle waves of pleasure inside her swell into a tsunami. Her breath quickened; short, sharp gasps of air as she strained helplessly against her restraints, the ropes around her ankles cutting into her as they reached their tether. Her hips bucked violently, slamming against the edge of the bench as she undulated and writhed under Damon’s touch. His teeth gently nuzzled and nibbled at her labia; his thumb glided over her clit in little circular motions. Jodie cried out as she came, letting Marcel’s testes slip from her jaw as she flooded Damon’s mouth with her sweet nectar.
Marcel laughed as her tremors subsided and her breathing returned to normal.
“Did you like that, you little whore?” he asked, dismounting from her face and stooping to wipe the pre-cum oozing from the tip of his cock onto her forehead. “Or should we give you another taste?”
Jodie watched as he wandered over to one of the cameras, removing it from its tripod. He caught her looking and jerked his head towards the television in the corner.
“It’s a live feed,” he said. “You can watch yourself behaving like a little slut.”
Crack.
The sudden sound startled her and Marcel laughed again, watching her eyes widen with fear as she turned her head to the side and saw what was coming next.
Crack.
Oh, fuck. Oh God. Oh fuck; oh fuck; oh fuck.
Crack.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!
Pig. She had forgotten about him.
He hadn’t moved from where she’d seen him last yet he’d managed to acquire a leather riding crop, swishing it sharply where he stood, waiting for her to notice him before advancing slowly.
Crack.
Crack.
The first blow caught Jodie’s inner thigh; the second, the hood of her clitoris. He grunted softly as she cried out in pain, wriggling to the limits of her restraints as she tried to escape the stinging blows raining down on her most delicate area.
“Please,” she begged. “Please, make him stop!”
Crack. Crack.
The third and fourth blows swished against her labia: right to left; left to right.
Goddammit! How was he so fucking accurate?!
“Please! No more! Make him stop!”
“Are you sure?” Marcel asked from behind the camera, moving to focus on her groin as Pig’s crop flicked it again. “I think you like it. The camera thinks so, anyway - and the camera never lies.”
Is he fucking insane?
How could he say she liked it?
Jodie opened her mouth to protest; just as quickly shutting it again as another blow landed against her mons. The crop hurt like a motherfucker, and yet...
And yet.
With the initial shock wearing off, Jodie was suddenly aware that the burning sensation originating in her cunt had slowly spread through the rest of her body. She glanced at the action playing out on the television. To her surprise, she saw that when the blows landed she arched her hips towards them, rather than away. As Pig paused for breath the camera zoomed in on the end of the crop, bringing it into sharp focus on the screen. The dark leather tip glistened wetly.
Marcel grinned. “I think she’s ready to take things to the next level,” he said, holding out his hand. Pig silently handed him the crop and Marcel forced it into Jodie’s mouth, making her taste herself for the first time; her juices tangy and tart on her tongue as she licked it clean. Damon moved from the foot of the bench up to the head, absentmindedly stroking Jodie’s hair while he waited for instruction.
Having given up his toy, Pig moved closer to the bench. Jodie’s eyes widened in fear. It was one thing to have him spanking her cunt at a distance, but to actually have the man touching her?
No fucking way!
“Keep him away from me!” she yelled, wiggling back as far as the ropes allowed.
Pig paused, mid-way between her legs; dark beady eyes darting this way and that as he glanced between Jodie and Marcel.
The Belgian snorted, switching his grip on the camera to shift some of its weight. “What did I say about showing respect?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.
Damon laughed and tightened his grip, winding Jodie’s blonde hair around his fingers for extra purchase as he yanked her head back.
“Are we going to have to discipline you?” he growled, shaking her head for her.
Jodie glanced up at him. The area around his mouth was still slick and shiny from where she’d cum with his tongue inside her. Why was she so scared of Pig touching her? It was what she’d paid for, after all – to have her boundaries pushed; to test the dark side of her limits.
She made up her mind.
“No, sir,” she replied quietly.
“What’s that?” Damon said, a big shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “You want me to stick my cock in your mouth?” This time he forced her head to nod. “You’re a dirty little slut! Open wide, bitch.”
Jodie obeyed, letting Damon push his cock between her lips. She loved giving head; it was one of her favourite things to do, ever since the very first blowjob she’d given, back in college.
“No gag reflex,” she’d told Marcel proudly, when they’d met in the little Starbucks, and she’d meant it; but even so, the sheer length of Damon’s cock was still problematic.
Jodie felt the head enter her throat, nudging against her oesophagus, only starting to panic when she realised that he still had two or three more inches left. Damon noticed her discomfort and grinned, holding his cock in place for a few more seconds before easing out slowly.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” he said, hands still wrapped tightly in her hair. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
He removed his cock completely from her mouth, rubbing his glans on her lips.
“Yes....” Jodie whispered, stretching her tongue out to lick his shaft.
“What was that?”
“Yes, I’ll be a good girl.”
“We know you will,” Marcel said, nodding at Pig, still patiently waiting between her thighs, giving him permission to proceed.
Jodie she felt him place one of his ham-sized hands on her pussy, rubbing her labia with the flat of his palm, coating his fingers with her juices. Damon forcibly turned her head, facing her towards the television to watch as Pig eased one and then two fingers inside. The pain of her cunt stretching was fleeting; her body betraying her lust as it adjusted to these new sensations, flinching and juddering around his digits as if it had a mind of its own. Fingers one and two were soon joined by fingers three and four; Pig shaping his hand into a cone for easy access, tucking his thumb into his palm as he slid in.
Her pussy felt so full - yet at the same time, so empty. It was an absurd paradox. Ordinarily, she might have laughed; but instead, Jodie found her hips bucking against him, desperately seeking more of his body inside hers. Pig’s thick hand stretched her wider than she could have believed; his fingers splayed as he withdrew them, her soft, wet folds bulged obscenely as her cunt fought to keep him inside for as long as possible. She could smell her arousal, sweet and piquant in the air. When he finally succeeded in pulling free, his fingers and wrist were wet and sticky, and glistened in the light.
As Pig continued to work his fingers in and out of her cunt with surprising gentleness, Damon yanked her hair again, shoving his cock firmly into her mouth as she cried out. She felt the smooth firmness of his head resting against her tongue, instinctively swirling it around his tip, dipping into his urethral opening, making him gasp with surprise and pleasure.
Her reaction spurred him into action. Gone was the polite student who had chatted with her earlier, bringing refreshments whilst she got ready. Instead, lust took over. He yanked her hair again, pulling her neck straight for easier access, forcing most of his long cock into her throat. Jodie tried to pull away but Damon held her firmly in place, only releasing her as her face began to turn crimson. She coughed out thick rivulets of saliva as he pulled his cock free.
“I don’t care if you choke, bitch,” he said, sneering at her. “I don’t care if it makes you uncomfortable, I’m going to stick this cock in your throat until I cum!”
“Damon,” Marcel said warningly. The younger man snorted but held back as his employer pulled Pig out from between Jodie’s legs, handing his obese colleague the camera before taking his place.
Damon twisted her head back to the television and she watched, fascinated as her pussy filled the screen. Her labia were red and puffy, matted with her juices from Pig’s fisting. Even before Marcel’s cock loomed into view she felt it as he rubbed his glans against her clit, and his hard length along her sopping slit.
It was too much to bear.
Jodie stretched as far as her restraints allowed, pushing forwards to meet him; both of them gasping as the head of his cock slipped with consummate ease into her body, her slick folds slowly closing around him like one of those rare carnivorous plants trapping its prey. Marcel edged forwards, filling her inch by inch; neither of them entirely sure whether the Belgian was pushing himself into her, or if it was Jodie’s vagina sucking him in deeper, like some impossible black hole, until his hips finally met hers and he had no more cock left outside of her body.
Marcel paused for a moment savouring the pressure of Jodie’s cunt, before slowly withdrawing, the camera lingering lasciviously on the scene. His cock glistened from a mixture of their combined perspiration and her juices. He withdrew almost to the tip, her cunt holding him fast as it fought to retain him, before he slammed back inside her with a grunt of satisfaction; repeating the action again and again.
Each thrust inwards was exquisite; each pull outwards, exquisite torture. Marcel’s cock seemed to know her pussy, as if they were old friends, and she ached for its loss whenever he withdrew. His length allowed for stimulation her previous lovers had neglected, and the head of his cock rubbed against her g-spot both on entry and exit. Every nerve felt warm and fuzzy and she closed her eyes, her breath increasingly rushed between gritted teeth.
Her ass scrambled for purchase on the end on the bench and her back, slick with sweat, slid across the wooden surface. Jodie felt the waves building inside her again, the pleasure nibbling around her core. But this was only the entree. The main course – the event she was waiting for with equal parts dread and excitement – was yet to come.
She didn’t have to wait long.
Marcel allowed himself to pull free, placing his hands under her buttocks; gripping the supple flesh tightly as he spread the cheeks wide, exposing her puckered asshole.
“You’d better be ready,” he said, glancing up at her.
In response, she pushed forwards, letting the thick head of his cock nudge aside the last remnants of her virginity, the Belgian entering territory no man had entered before.
She winced as Marcel began to push in, the head of his cock slowly pushing its way into her puckered rim. Enough of Jodie’s juices had seeped down between her buttocks that further lubrication wasn’t required; but even so, it was a tight fit. To judge from Marcel’s look of intense concentration and gritted teeth, it was clear that the Belgian was having his own battle trying to squeeze his thick cock inside. His hand gripped her thigh for extra support but his palm was slick with sweat and his arm slipped. He swore, regaining his balance as he tried again.
Finally, he succeeded pushing past the tight ring of muscle. The pain was sharp, but brief; and even as she felt her tightness giving way, it was already subsiding to be replaced by something much more pleasurable.
Why...
