1 comments/ 8593 views/ 4 favorites Rachel's Countdown By: Steve_Adams WARNING: The following is a work of erotic fan fiction, the events of which are completely made up and did not happen, and is no true reflection of the celebrities, people, places, conventions, events etc depicted within. This material is unsuitable to be viewed by those under the legal age limit of viewing pornographic material in your current country of residence. Featuring: Rachel Riley (TV presenter) Rachel's Countdown A celebrity erotic story Codes: MF, FF, Cons, Oral, WS, Group. ***** Rachel's Countdown How had it come to this, she thought as she approached the mansion which rose majestically before her. It didn't take long for her brain to remind her; she might have been a maths genius but the stock market wasn't based of maths; it was based on a series of algorithms and circumstances that, unlike maths, were beyond her control. A gamble and she had lost everything; her money, her house, and her job - she never should have persuaded the producers to go in with her, and when it looked to be going well she should never have told them all to shove their TV careers up their arses. It was her arse that was going to be troubled. But what a pretty arse it was. The dress she wore was designed to show it off. She'd been told to dress well, her ass was perched above long, slender legs, legs she had always dressed to show off on the programme she was famous for, legs that got the audience to whistle when her name was called out, a whistle that sent tingles through her every time, glancing around the audience and knowing that they all wanted her. That time was gone. They all wanted her; but she was no longer theirs. She was this guy's, the guy who owned the mansion; Mr Adams was what she knew him as. They guy she was in debt to, to the region of three million pounds. She held her breath as she used the big brass knocker, slamming metal off metal. It sounded like the death knell of her old life and the thought scared her. She could back out, but who knew what other people would do to get their three million back; that was even scarier. Wobbling on the cherry red heels, she smoothed down the slinky cream dress, one she had managed to pilfer from the show, one that they'd considered too hot for TV. Which it was, barely coming over the cheeks of her ass, tight around her slim, size six figure, and promoting what little she had up top. It was designed to do that, all without the aid of a bra. As she waited she fluffed up her curly, blonde hair that nestled on her angled shoulders and stared at her reflection in the brass knocker, shined up like a mirror. She looked good, perhaps too slutty but she doubted Mr Adams would care. What she was going to do was worth three million pounds. Three million pounds to play a game of Countdown. The glossy lacquer-finished door opened and she was greeted by a man, the man she had agreed to do this for. Mr Adams. Easily in his sixties though he wore it well, the suit tailored to his still slim-looking body. She had no idea what he wanted but if it involved having sex with him, there could have been worse people to do it with even if he was at least twice her age. 'A drink?' he offered, voice as smooth as the silk panties that she'd decided to wear. She had auctioned off most of her stuff to pay back some of her debt. She knew that Rachel Riley's used underwear would have gone down a storm in certain circles but couldn't bring herself to do it. So she wore them for this instead. They made her feel good. Taking the green cocktail in an expensive crystal glass from him, she quaffed it in one. Mr Adams laughed. 'Building up your courage are you?' he said before handing her another. She showed more restraint with the second, sipping it and allowing him to lead her into another room, what she guessed had been a sitting room, or some type of leisure quarters, ornate, carved and ancient. Now it was decked out like a very passable imitation of the Countdown set. He'd gone to some expense on this. But if he was able to pay her three million for doing this, then he had plenty to spare. Doing what came naturally to her, she made for her place on the stage by the letters and numbers, touching the podium, memories flooding back. It felt good to be on stage once again. She knew how much she missed it, though she would never let it show. 'So where are the contestants? Who are the contestants?' she asked looking to Mr Adams who took up position in the main chair, Nick's chair, Jeff's chair, the man in control. She glanced to the rows and rows of expensive cushioned chairs facing the stage. Never mind the contestants, she thought to herself, where was the audience? Were they going to play to an empty crowd? A crowd that she would have to imagine was there? That wouldn't be as fun. She turned to ask Mr Adams what was happening. From nowhere two players were now in the contestant's chairs as if they had materialised out of thin air. One male and one female. She recognised the female immediately. Know that twisted up face anywhere. Her old co-worker Susie Dent. Why was she here, she asked herself, but knew the reason why. One of the reasons her reputation had taken a dive, why they had let her go from the show. She had fucked Susie's husband, not out of spite, or malice; just because she could. He wasn't even good-looking, but he was off-bounds and she liked that, liked the danger. It had been over in less than a minute, but it had made a major contribution to her downfall. She strained to see the name on the front of the male card. She hadn't a clue who he was, but he was pretty good-looking and if nothing else, a bit of eye candy for her to keep an eye on throughout this 'show'. She always tried to pick out one piece, meant that she could be distracted during the boring bits of the show. Mr Adams waved a hand towards her. Rachel didn't know what he wanted, couldn't decipher what he was trying to say. But it wasn't her he was signalling. From the door she and Mr Adams had entered a crowd of well-dressed people streamed inside, taking up position in the crowd; men and woman, mostly of advancing years, well-heeled and well-tanned, here to enjoy the show. Putting on her game face, she smiled at them all. 'Let's start,' said Mr Adams, no impatience in his voice. 'Susie, you can pick the first letters.' A silent nod from Susie, but a look on her face that could have cut straight through Rachel. She hadn't forgotten, not that Rachel ever thought she had. 'Could I have a vowel please... bitch?' said Susie, spat at her, sharp and violent. Rachel jerked a little but accepted that she probably deserved that. The audience murmured. This wasn't going to be the usual polite game of Countdown. There was an undercurrent that would have made great TV. Looking around, she couldn't see any recording equipment. 'Now if we can keep this civil, Susie. At least for the time being,' said Mr Adams authoritative - and ominous. Rachel was glad someone was in charge. The letters were chosen as normal - A, G, I, L, N, A, S, U, N - with no thank you's or pleasantry, and the imitation Countdown clock set into motion with the familiar catchy ditty. As she normally did, Rachel played along. What else was there to do? As ever the thirty seconds played out fast. She had a seven letter word - SAILING - and was pretty proud of it. Mr Adams asked the contestants for their words. Like Rachel, the unknown male had SAILING too but Susie stated she had a nine. A nine, thought Rachel, show off... bitch. Susie smiled, straight at Rachel as she said it - ANALINGUS. Another murmur from the audience. Trust her to find the nine letter one. She was always good at this crap she thought placing the letters in order. 'Well done, Susie. Now we need to have a demonstration.' Rachel froze. A demonstration? Of what? She turned back to see the awkward grin of her former co-worker. 'As winner of that round you get to choose who performs the demonstration,' said Mr Adams. 'And on whom.' 'Easy,' said Susie, without hesitation, 'the Riley bitch can eat out your ass.' Blunt, nothing flowery about the language. Rachel had never heard Susie talk so dirty and if she hadn't been the focus of the wrath she might even have been a little turned on. She liked a straight-talker. 'I... no,' stuttered Rachel. 'You will,' replied Susie. They both looked to Mr Adams who rose from his seat and took a place in the centre of the stage. Without further ado, he unhooked his belt and the trousers fell to the floor, exposing an ass that had begun to sag, an ass that sprouted a great forest of hair down the middle. There was no way... 'I can't,' repeated Rachel, seeing the old ass uncovered and putting a hand to her mouth. She had never... had never even thought about licking anyone there, even her ex-boyfriends. Even the ones who had made her suck them in public or fingered her ass. 'You know what you're doing here, don't you Rachel?' said Mr Adams, in complete charge, 'You know why you're here, so get over here now and get on your knees.' Commanded, and knowing the price she was being paid for all this, she walked over slowly, wobbling on the high heels. Staring first at the audience, and then an evil grinning Susie, she slumped to her knees in front of the old man's ass. 'Please no,' she begged, staring at the audience for mercy. But there was to be none. Holding her breath she leaned forward, gingerly running her tongue over the mostly hairless cheek. There was a louder murmur from the audience and a long moan from the recipient of the tongue who spread his legs wider in response. 'Spread that ass and lick him,' yelled out Susie. Putting her soft hands on the mass of flesh, Rachel parted the cheeks to come face to face with the Mr Adam's ass, the man she thought was her benefactor, the man who had brought her here to play Countdown - but she know knew that it would be no ordinary game. His wrinkled asshole winked at her as if to give her the go-ahead to start. Leaning in, her tongue touched the folded flesh. She gagged hard, tasting him on her tongue, musty and dirty, like... she didn't even know how to describe such was the sensory overload. She scrunched her face up in displeasure. 'More!' This time it was someone from the audience and, on command, she licked again, sliding her tongue over his asshole, catching on the hairs. It was a nervous, tentative stroke but she hoped it was enough. The hand on the back of her head thrusting her forward and into the depths of his ass told her that it wasn't the case. Susie's voice came from close-by her ear, the owner of the hands, pushing her head in. Rachel struggled in vain, taking a deep breath of the musty, sweaty ass, mouth open to try and get air but getting nothing but a mouthful of hot ass. Knowing there was now no way out of this, Rachel slathered her tongue over the wrinkled hole, tasting him, gagging more but doing it again, her tongue pushing harder, the tip easing into him. 'She's inside,' gasped Mr Adams, his ancient legs wobbling. 'And there you are,' said Susie, 'the once great Rachel - Fucking - Riley now eating an old man's shitty ass.' Rachel felt like crying but couldn't. There was nothing but this stranger's ass and the taste. She was being humiliated. Humiliated in front of these strangers and in front of someone who hated her guts. Humiliated but yet... She hadn't touched it but she knew that her pussy was wet. Why the hell was her pussy wet? Not only that her hard nipples were poking against the expensive material of her dress. Somehow she was aroused by this, aroused by being forced to eat this old man's ass. What the hell was going on? Was it being front of a group? She had always fantasised about it. Subconsciously she licked again, almost French kissing his anus now, slurping up the ass-covered saliva she was drooling. Her hair was yanked violently. She came off the ass, gasping for air, a little ass-flavoured drool falling to her dress and soaking in. Instead of a wet, pouting asshole she was looking up into the face of Susie who had a firm hold of her curled blonde locks as if she wanted to rip them out. 'You liked that didn't you, bitch?' Rachel didn't answer. Her lack of complaint told the whole story. Susie grinned and gripped her hair again causing Rachel to grunt in pain. By the time her former colleague let her go; Mr Adams had his pants back on and was in the main chair again. Alone in the middle of the room and in front of the audience, Rachel found that somehow she missed licking his asshole and again found it confusing why it should be so. Was she really that much of a slut? She found she didn't want to answer the question. Now free, she wandered back to her station like a trained puppy, wiping off the ass-smeared saliva with the back of her hand. 'Second round. More letters. Your turn this time, Steve.' So the other contestants name was Steve. Steve who? She still didn't recognise him and had no idea why he was here unless he was a friend of Mr Adams. Not his son surely? He chose the next set of letters - E, T, P, B, O, U, A, J, H. The clock started again. Rachel played along though she could still taste Mr Adam's ass on her tongue, savoury rather than sweet, a persistent tang. She had a four - BOUT. A poor effort but they were poor letters. But she didn't do as poorly as the Susie and Steve. Both claimed a two. Two! How the hell did they not get more than that? Mr Adams asked them for their answers. In conjunction they gave the same: BJ. 'Well done,' said Mr Adams. 'But that's not even—' The glare from the main chair stopped her in her tracks. They all knew it wasn't a word and she knew what was coming next. With Steve in charge of deciding who was going to receive the blowjob and from whom, it was no surprise to Rachel that she was to be the giver... and he the receiver. Up he stepped, as he strode ever closer she could see that he was over six foot tall and dressed impeccably. Straight out a modelling calendar. The kind of man she would go for. All day, every day. Again, although she was embarrassed, Rachel couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to suck him. If only it had been a bit more private. Who was she kidding? A lot more private. But she had no choice. Knowing what she had to do she stepped forward and met him in the middle. He was very handsome, cheeks chiselled and defined. Looked down at her with no expression. She tried a smile to get him to emote something towards her - but nothing. She glanced down at his pants. She could see the outline of his bulge. It looked impressive, tacked to the side and touching his leg. Yum. Sliding to her knees, she looked up at him and began to undo his belt; the murmurs in the crowd lost to her, only hearing the tinkle of the clasp being undone and rustle of material as she pulled his trousers and boxers off in one swoop. The cock that charged out at her was a beauty, a solid eight inches, veined, but smooth as marble, swollen and ready. Involuntarily she licked her lips and stared at the shiny red helmet at the end, poking out at her screaming for attention. Not looking anywhere else; not looking at the audience, Susie, or Mr Adams, she placed her hand on the cock and felt the heat pulse through it and into her like it was a magic wand. The heat reached her sex. She was going to have her expensive knickers soaked in seconds, she thought as she started to stroke it in rhythm with the moans coming from the owner. Stroking slow and stroking long a glob of clear precum rose on the end. She darted her tongue out at it and gathered it up. Salty and strong. So much better than the taste of ass and so she moved her mouth onto the tip, enveloping the slick head, her tongue running along the underside of his hard shaft, the soft, sucking sounds loud in her head, like the sound of an audience clapping. She sucked deeper and deeper, twisting her head so that her mouth moved around the length, the flesh now slick in her mouth, sucking him, pleasing him, and forgetting where she was, even who she was doing it for. There was nothing in her mind but the cock in front of her. Even the gag that crunched her stomach into a ball didn't knock her from stride, her throat closing over the tip as if to milk it. Steve even moaned as she did so. She gagged again, on purpose to elicit the same moan. She wasn't disappointed. From the sounds, neither was he. His hand was in her hair now and she felt the firm touch of his fingers on her scalp pushing her deeper, making her gag harder, choking on the cock, coughing little flecks of spittle on to his balls. Still he pressed. No longer did she feel at ease with the cock. It seemed that he was trying to press it all into her mouth. She knew that was impossible. He was two inches too big for that. Six was all she had ever managed. She tried to pull back. The strong hand didn't let her. She coughed again, feeling the strong retch driving up from deep within her, clenching her pussy, threatening to bring the bile up from her stomach. As she struggled he pushed more. Her eyes were wide, staring at his toned stomach, her nose inching ever closer to it. She had now beaten her record and felt like it was sliding all the way down the back of her throat and towards her stomach— Another retch, a loud huuuurgghh - one that seemed louder than her ears could deal with. With the second huuuurgghh came the explosion. Hot, spitting bile shot up through her oesophagus, bathing the cock in her mouth, before shooting out her mouth and onto his balls. And her dress. She could feel the terrible heat on her small breasts, the heat on her nipples, leaking through the thin material. The taste was horrible, like acid. If she had thought it was the end, she was wrong. Still the cock probed, the nasty cock that she had once thought so perfect, jamming into her throat and— She puked again, bringing up chunks of the rice she had earlier. The hand on the back of her head let go and she pulled back, rocking back onto her feet folded beneath her, the thick puke drooling out and down her dress. She was a mess. A towel flew from the crowd. Not for her but for him, Steve wiping off his still rock-hard penis and settling back down in his seat. The round was over. Rachel looked to him and the others. No-one stepped forward. No-one was going to help her. She was going to suffer this all on her own. And who knew how many rounds there were to go. She staggered back to her position and took a seat. The puke dripped from her and as she looked down could see that it had stained her dress, almost making it see-through, her pink nipples poking, as hard as eager as Steve's cock had been. She barely heard Mr Adams call out for the Numbers round. At least they couldn't make up some filthy sexual act out of those. Unless they went for 69 but she knew that number couldn't come up. Unless they had rigged the machine. The numbers were dealt out: 100, 50, 6, 10, 8, 8. Not a great selection but— She pressed the button for the number: 333. The clock started and despite her puke-drained state she tried to get it. The clock ticked fast. She could get 326 quickly, next attempt; 334. Her brain wasn't working. It must be there. Having all even numbers wasn't helping. The tune played to the crescendo. She frantically tried to solve it. Failed. And hung her head. Both Susie and Steve had failed to get it too. 'Well Rachel?' Mr Adams, she could almost hear the smile in his voice. 'No,' she said. 'Well you know what that means?' She didn't but could guess. 'It means a punishment,' he said. Her fears confirmed. Rachel's Countdown In the background Susie practically screamed in delight. Rachel awaited determination of what the punishment would be. The little rat Susie looked to be itching to say something but stayed quiet. The bitch, thought Rachel. The forceful thought brought up some stray vomit into her mouth and she choked it down. Mr Adams spoke to the contestants. 'We'll let the audience decide this one,' he said. Like it was a proper fucking gameshow, muttered Rachel to herself. Again another lick of vomit quietened her complaints. It stank. She stank, a mess, nothing like the glamorous girl she had been. Most of all she needed a shower. And she was about to get one. 'Steve messed her up,' said a female voice from the audience. One that Rachel couldn't pinpoint. 'Yeah,' added another, 'she should have a shower to clean off.' Cue more mumbles from the audience and an excited grin from Susie. Rachel didn't really know what the crazed smile was about until Mr Adams announced for the pool to be brought out. An inflatable pool, blue, and patterned with a number of cartoon characters. Rachel now guessed what was going to happen. And it wasn't Disney-approved. 'Rachel, take your place in the pool,' said Mr Adams. Rachel decided to give it one more go at fighting her fate. 'That one couldn't be solved. It was impossible.' Mr Adams was stern and unbending. 'That's the luck of the draw,' he said. The end of the discussion. As she made her way across to the pool all eyes were on her and her puke-stained dress which gripped to her figure like the most awful wet t-shirt competition. Maybe it was better to get it all washed off. At least it would be warm. What the hell was she thinking, she scolded herself. You want these people to piss on you. She knelt down in the pool. 'Form a disorderly queue,' said Mr Adams. What happened next was akin to a stampede. Men and women flocked from the audience; men dressed in tuxedos, tailored suits and floppy cocks out, women in elegant dresses hitched to the waist, panties gone or yanked to the side, pressed all around her. She looked up at them. A mistake. She saw the first stream too late, hitting her in the face, spraying up near her eyes. She shrieked at it and tried to move away. It followed her and was joined by another. Then another. Though the streams hit her face hard, it was warm, pleasant in fact after the chill of the drying puke. But the smell was as terrible, sour and harsh, splashes flicking up her nostrils, adding to the sensation. As she shrieked again, dodging this way and that, one of the streams found her mouth and she tasted it. She leant forward and retched. Nothing came up. Blinking her eyes open, she could see that she was already swimming in dirty yellow piss, her pretty blonde hair soaked, the curls and bounciness gone. The yank on her sopping hair was hard, and she was back up to face them, her mouth open in pain and choking on another stream, which she gurgled and spat out, like a crappy fountain. 'Drink it, you slut!' Someone in the crowd, nameless but angry. With her hair pulled, she had no choice but to open her eyes. The audience were delighted. They were getting their chance to participate, to use her, and they were making the most of it. That was how Rachel Riley stayed for the next five minutes, drowning in the hot piss until she could feel the waves of piss lap at her pussy, sloshing back and forth, tickling her lips, tickling her clit, her pussy bathing in the warm, stinking piss. The hand left her hair and released, she tried to wipe some of the piss from her face. To no avail. Looking back up, both Susie and Mr Adams were standing over her. She considered spitting at them but rejected it. She was in enough trouble as it was. 'Okay, the deal is Rachel,' said Mr Adams with a smile, 'is that you either drink Susie's urine, or you have to drink all of it in the pool.' Susie was practically jumping up and down at this suggestion, her overbite more pronounced than ever. Rachel looked at the pool. About thirty people's worth of piss in there. More than she could drink in a day. She had no choice. Closing her eyes, she whimpered, 'Susie's.' The squeal of delight was entirely from Susie. With an abandon Rachel had never seen, she ripped off her ugly dress to reveal a lack of panties, a hairy bush covering a vagina that glistened with wetness. Rachel looked into her eyes. Susie meant business. She practically ground her hips over towards her as if magnetised. Closing her eyes, Rachel opened her mouth for the piss to rain down on her. Susie's piss. 'I have to micturate. Are you ready?' asked Susie. Micturate? What the fuck was micturate thought Rachel and opened her eyes. Her and her fancy fucking words. There was nothing fancy about the way Susie pressed her cunt into her face, swiping the clit over her pretty nose, smearing it in juice, covering her lips in the thick mucus. It tasted sour, as sour as Susie's face. Rachel leant back to get away from it. 'Back here, bitch,' said Susie and pressed Rachel's piss-soaked head against her. 'Lick it allllll up,' she moaned, getting pleasure from Rachel's closed lips on her own. 'Lick it,' she screamed again, violent, off her rocker, thought Rachel. The pain in her nipple was immense. As if the fingers had torn it right off. It throbbed and swelled. Rachel couldn't see it but imagined it flashing loud and red through her piss-soaked dress. Rachel screamed into the flaps of flesh pressed into her face. She could taste it now. Not wanting a further, sadistic pinch, she began to lick at her ex-colleague's cunt, lapping with vigour and trying to hold in the retches. 'Ahhh that's it!' Susie jammed her head so hard against her it was as if she wanted to take Rachel's head right inside. Then as suddenly she pulled back, Rachel still tasting the sour juice on her mouth, daring herself to spit it out. Holding her pussy flaps wide open, Susie shouted, 'Open!' Rachel did, her jaw slack, searching for air. The first blast came like a jet-hose. A blast of hot piss that struck her face, scouring what little makeup she had left on her face right off. There was a distinctive taste to it, like lager left out on a sunny day. Rachel choked as the spray forced its way down her throat. 'Drink it, bitch!' Rachel swallowed. Tried to swallow it all but it was so hot and rich. She gagged on it taking the jet to her forehead and eyes. The moan from Susie was like she was some feral beast now, even as the jets of piss slowed down. Blinking, her eyes pained from the ammonia, Rachel looked up to see Susie staring down at her. So pleased with herself, hitching her skirt back on and skipping back to her seat. It was as if her former colleague had turned into a particularly vindictive child. A woman scorned. Rachel sat in the pool, washed in piss. She was broken, awaiting command. Too broken to even care that someone came up behind her and ripped her dress, tore it off like an animal, exposing her body to all these strangers, her pert 34B breasts on show now, one nipple bright red and standing to attention, the nipple that Susie had tried to rip off. The towel thrown at her was like a gift from the Gods and slowly she rose, piss running down her slender legs, her neatly trimmed landing strip on show, perfect cameltoe exposed beneath. In front of them all she dried off, the towel soft and expensive, wiping herself down, performing what the audience must have felt was a very sexy dance as they cheered in delight. 'Back to your station, Rachel.' It was Mr Adams. She obeyed. The next letters were called out and she put them up on the board. Like a robot. A robot smelling of piss and puke. G, O, K, G, N, A, E, Q, I. The clock started and she tried to determine any sex acts contained within the letters. She now understood how the game worked now. Maybe if she could work it out she could prepare herself for it. GONK, KONG... she paused. KONG? Like some kind of huge dildo that she would have to insert into herself. Her pussy screamed in warning - or was it desire? KANE, GAIN... the time was up. Steve gave her the answer that she had failed to see. GANG. Rachel's eyes widened as she turned and put it on the board. 'I want to see GANG as well.' Susie. Obvious delight in her voice. Closing her eyes, Rachel didn't turn, as if she could hide from whatever was going to happen. Turning back, some sort of table had been brought into the middle of the room, padded for comfort, a red sheet draped across it for decoration. Or to keep it clean, thought Rachel. 'Come take your place,' said Mr Adams, himself off his seat and moving towards the table. A cue for Rachel and the audience who left their seats and created a human corridor for her. Rachel knew what was going to happen next. A gang. A gangbang with her as the main event. There was disgust in her, disgust, but also an unfamiliar urge. An urge to get over there, to submit to them. This is what she had been paid for. This is what she had signed up for. She began the long walk. As she passed through the crowd, she looked at the table. Her performance area. Hands clawed at her, her firm ass squeezed, her breasts zeroed in on, mauled and pinched, wincing as her long, pink nipples bore the brunt of the abuse. Stealthy hands reached between her legs and grazed her pussy, causing her to whimper and try to dance away - only to move into the path of more roaming hands and fingers. She was nothing but their toy. Again a tingle of excitement at the fact. Reaching the table, she stood there, looking at Mr Adams and Steve, stoic as ever, with Susie grinning like it was Christmas. 'How did my piss taste, bitch?' Rachel blushed and looked to Mr Adams. It was normally now that he interceded. But he didn't. Rachel paused. Didn't know how to answer. 'Answer her,' said Mr Adams. Looking to him, and not looking at Susie, she said, 'Disgusting, like eating an old woman's cunt!' The use of the word cunt shocked her - she would never normally use it - but the reaction of Susie shocked her more, screaming and trying to round the table to get to her, held back by Steve and other members of the audience. 'Now, now, Susie, we don't want to damage the goods before we have our fun,' said Mr Adams, calm as ever. He nodded to something or somebody over Rachel's shoulder. Next thing she knew she was being hoisted up, strong hands on each limb, splaying her out on the table, her body on show like meat, her breasts pointing to the ceiling, her pussy open, the majority of the attendees staring at it like it was the eighth wonder of the world. She knew that they all wanted it. And couldn't stop herself from finding it... desirable. She looked up and around, at the men and women surrounding her. The last time she'd been in this position they were going to piss all over her but this time it would be different. And she could already see how different, some of the women stroking their partner's cock, sliding it over their own bare skin to make it hard, one even on her knees, passing from cock to cock, sucking each, preparing them for the main event of the evening. The violation of her pussy. She bit her lip to fight back the tingle. Now Rachel was no stranger to cock, for someone who looked as good as her it was on tap whenever she wanted, but this was twenty men, old men, young men, fat, thin, bald, hairy, ugly. But there was no argument over who was to be first to violate her. Mr Adams. Susie stood beside him, staring at Rachel. She watched his old cock as he inched forward. There was a gentleness about the way he stroked her long, slender legs, admiring them, that put her at ease. If he started gentle, then the others would follow. He was now at her pussy, his cock hard, grazing over her slit and causing her to clench, try and move her pussy away from the inevitable. He shoved his hips forward - violent, sharp, his cock ripping into her pussy, making her glad that she was already wet. It took her breath away. Her sex clenched and tried to push him back out. No good. Every time it clenched, the old man would push harder, opening her up. The crowd cheered, no-one louder than Susie, screaming for Mr Adams to fuck her and fuck her hard, even bending over to watch up close as her old friend's perfect pussy was used. The pussy that had stolen her husband. Made him dream of more than her own. Every thrust pushed Rachel back on the table, strange hands on her body, holding and groping, her nipples pulled and pinched until they were raw and erect, her mouth open to scream only to be filled with cock, cock that drove into her mouth and into her throat causing her to choke, squeezing the cock in her cunt even harder, making her choke and moan. As they fucked from both ends, the balls slapped her forehead and eyes, her mouth nothing but another hole to fuck. As Mr Adams took his time; long, slow thrusts that he seemed to wind up before delivering, the men rotated in her mouth, different sizes and different tastes, all of which made her gag, through taste or size. It was the sixth one in her mouth which popped first, choking her with cum, cum that she had to swallow as she had no option to spit, feeling it slide down fighting gravity into her tummy. The spent cock left, whacked off her cheek as if congratulating her on doing such a good job. Mr Adams' cock left her pussy. Had he cum? She hadn't felt it but she'd been too busy eating cum. Looking down, Steve had taken his place. She never saw him shove it in, another cock thrust into her mouth, heavy, hairy balls blinding her. She felt the cock enter, pressing deeper than Mr Adams, filling her up, that perfect cock, the cock that had made her puke, pushed up into her wet, tight, hungry cunt, a cock that immediately filled her with pleasure, fingers on her swollen clit, making her— She came hard, instinctively swallowing the load that was delivered into her mouth, her orgasm manifesting a taste, a salty, spicy taste. She didn't have long to savour it, replaced by another member of the audience, the lipstick gone from her glossy lips, all makeup worthless, but retaining her natural beauty. The natural beauty of the gangbang toy. Whereas Mr Adams didn't cum, Steve did. His thrusts increased in power, shoving her across the table and deeper onto the cock at the other end, feeling like he was trying to bust through her cervix, before she felt the unmistakable burning feeling in her pussy, the feeling of cum flooding her sex, unprotected cum. Her moans elicited another load into her throat and she coughed it down, body shaking, a cumdump, a worthless cumdump for them. At the thought her body tingled all over. As Steve pulled out, she watched his limp cock, a drop of cum falling from the end. She waited for the next man to enter her pussy, feeling Steve's cum slowly ooze from her, tickling her puckered asshole. It was the first time she had thought about her ass. They weren't going to take that as well were they? A cock appeared in front of her pussy. A black cock, big and fake, as long and big as her forearm. The body attached to it was quite the opposite, slim and deathly pale, belonging to Susie. She stroked the strap-on as if it was her own. 'Ready for this, bitch?' she said in a high-pitched cackle, smacking the latex monster against Rachel's pussy. It was sore, the pain coursing through her, driving the wind from her stomach. 'Owwww,' moaned Rachel, wriggling in vain to get away. 'Please don't, that's too big.' She looked around for help, looked around for Mr Adams in particular but he was nowhere to be seen. There was no help coming. This time she begged for a cock to fuck her mouth, something to block her view, something to distract her from what was about to happen, but no-one stepped forward. They were all waiting to see what happened. If this huge thing could indeed fit inside the pretty blonde TV presenter - ex-TV presenter. Hips pressed forward, Susie placed the head of the plastic cock on Rachel's pussy. Already it felt big, parting her lips with the sheer weight alone. 'You're my bitch now,' cackled Susie. And pushed. It felt as if her cunt was being wedged open. It felt the width of a baseball bat. She tried to wriggle away but the hands held her down. Inch after inch slid inside, hips pressing it in. Susie's face was a picture of delight and wonderment, like a kid on a rollercoaster. The thick black dildo invaded her, caused her pussy muscles to contract in pain around it. She began to cry out but knew it would do no good. This is what they wanted. Her to suffer. Susie began to fuck her, slowly at first, the cock seeming to pull at her walls, try to pull her inside out. She wondered if she would be ruined for all cock. Maybe this was Susie's punishment for her indiscretions. To prevent her enjoying another cock again. Then the black mass began to ease in and out, her pussy adjusting to the size, even... it couldn't be... even began to appreciate the size. A quick thrust from Susie brought a moan to Rachel's lips. She felt wetter than ever, her mouth open, drooling. The spark of delight from within her brought a snarl to Susie's lips. She shoved harder. It hit the spot. Rachel moaned again. Angier still, Susie tried again. Rachel rode another wave of pleasure. So it continued, Susie trying to hurt her and Rachel responding with another cry of intense pleasure. The orgasm that tore through her caused Susie to pull out, but it was too late to deny her and Rachel shook and panted as it overtook her completely, her pussy contracting, hips jerking, forgetting where she was and what she was doing, riding the moment, before settling back into a state of delirium. When she opened her eyes - she had no idea how much time had passed - she wasn't surrounded anymore, alone on the table, audience and contestants back in their seats, Susie looking for all the world as if someone had just pissed all over her. 'Time for the second half,' said Mr Adams. As Rachel lay there she knew that this was not over and that there were to be no winners to this game of Countdown - and only one loser. Herself. But she had just scored a minor victory. What she would pay for that victory soon became all too apparent.