6 comments/ 117988 views/ 20 favorites A Wedding With Dhipa By: dr_mabeuse The Doctor looked out the tinted window of the Rolls as it swept through the gate, peering over the rims of his dark glasses at the lush and manicured lawn, the neat flower beds. all as sunny and idyllic as a bride could wish for. The towers of the Pittsfield hotel could just be seen over the green trees and soon the large tent was visible, set up on the lawn just outside the hotel. “God how I hate being out in the daytime.” he said. “Especially among a bunch of your relatives at some sort of pagan fertility rite. I’ll bet they won’t even be speaking English.” Dhipa elbowed him playfully. “Would you stop! Of course they speak English, and we’re not pagans. It’s my favorite cousin’s wedding, and it’s a very important occasion. I’m sure it will be lovely.” “Is this what our wedding will look like?” he asked her. She looked down her nose at him. “Perhaps. But much grander.” “There won’t be any animal sacrifice? No fire walkers, that sort of thing?” She slapped his knee. “Now stop that! These are all very important people: my parents’ friends, all the leaders of the Pakistani community here. They all want to meet you so be good. You’re an art dealer, remember.” “Yes, of course.” He turned back to the window as the Rolls came to a gentle halt near the tent, which was festooned with balloons and enormous bunches of flowers. A crowd had already gathered, the men in their black or white tuxedos standing in knots and talking, the women bustling around with trays of food and drink, looking like flowers themselves in their brightly colored clothes. Children ran about chasing each other and screaming happily. The pool had not yet opened for swimming but they were already hysterical with excitement. It was a perfect day for a wedding, sunny and hot with the sky an intense, vivid blue and the grass a vibrant green. Everything was alive with color and excitement and the Doctor frowned when he saw all the gaiety. He would have much preferred to skip this event, but Dhipa had begged and pleaded, wheedled and pouted to get him to come. This was the social event of the year for her, perhaps the decade, and everyone would be there; how could she not show? It would cause talk, scandal. Furthermore, by now everyone had heard of her betrothal to the Doctor but few had met him or even knew anything about him other than that he was enormously wealthy and not Pakistani. The wedding represented the union of two rich and powerful families. Her cousin Alana on one side and Kumash Gomar on the other. The entire Pittsfield hotel and its grounds had been leased for the event, caterers arranged, musicians lined up, elaborate preparations carried out. The honored guests would be put up in the hotel overnight and festivities would continue the following day before the newlyweds would be allowed to leave on their honeymoon. Mickey jumped out and opened the back door of the Rolls, and the Doctor slid out. He looked around to see if people were watching, then he extended his hand for Dhipa. He had selected her outfit himself, just as he selected almost all of her clothes these days, especially when she would be appearing in public. Today she wore a bright yellow suit: a mini skirt that showed off her long legs, and a little jacket that v\barely closed over her sumptuous breasts. The white blouse she wore below it was also straining to contain her breasts, and he had insisted that she leave it open enough to show generous cleavage. Her hair was up, and she wore a broad-brimmed yellow sunhat and sunglasses behind which she hoped to hide some of her embarrassment. She had become accustomed to the fact that for some reason men liked to see her dressed like a cheap slut, but she never got used to people’s reactions to it, the startled looks, the raised eyebrows, the knowing looks they exchanged. Here, before her parents’ friends and relatives and the leaders of her community, people who had known her since she was a child, her shame was that much deeper. But if she had learned anything with the Doctor, it was how to bluff her way through her embarrassment, how to act as if the scandalously sexy clothes she wore were nothing special. She stood up straight now in the high heels the Doctor had made her wear, and saw some of her friends and relations headed for her now, all conservatively dressed, chattering happily. They surrounded her, all talking at once with natural happiness, excited to see their exotic relative. Many of them were still too young to know what it meant for a woman to dress like this, but others knew very well that it wasn’t right, yet still, they all were gracious. Dhipa introduced them to the Doctor in a bewildering flood of names he knew he hadn’t a chance of remembering. Some shook his hand, some just nodded. He was as polite to each as his befuddlement would allow. They walked towards the tent as Mickey carried their bags up to their room in the hotel. Soon the Doctor was being introduced to more people then he could even keep track of: men and women, cousins, second cousins, third cousins, everyone seemed to be a cousin of some sort. This isn’t a family, he thought to himself, it’s a tribe. He caught sight of two of Dhipa’s brothers towards the back of the tent but was in no hurry to greet them. The last time he had met them, Dhipa’s eldest brother Bashir had been involved in a sleazy plan to use Dhipa’s body to further his own fortunes, and things had gotten ugly, with Bashir coming out on the losing end. It was also due to the brothers that the Doctor had met Dhipa at all. After racking up thousands of pounds on gambling debts, they had in effect simply sold her to the Doctor, traded their own sister away in order to save their skins. They had all known that in all likelihood the Doctor would put her to work as a common prostitute, but that didn’t seem to bother them at all. Most of them thought that’s what she already was anyhow. The Doctor remained where he was while Dhipa circulated through the crowd, talking excitedly. In her happiness she seemed to have forgotten what she was wearing, but it was obvious from the looks she was getting behind her back that everyone else noticed, and the looks of shock and outrage of the other guests amused him. A loud commotion from the hotel signaled the arrival of the bride and groom, who entered the tent in a shower of rice and confetti with much laughing and cheering. The happy couple sat down, and the rest of the guests all took their seats on the exquisite and deep pile hand woven carpets that covered the ground. There was a series of very low tables under which their legs would fit as they sat on the ground, and the tables were covered with white table cloths. The Doctor found a note on his plate. Only a fool would marry a whore it said. He looked around for the brothers and found them all engaged in innocent conversation. No one else seemed to be looking his way that he could tell, but he knew it had to be them. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. The Doctor enjoyed picking out Dhipa’s clothes, for he knew about her particular fetish, and even if he didn’t really share it, he indulged her in it for his own reasons. Dhipa hidden passion was to be made to dress, if not cheap, then sexually easy, and she especially liked being forced to dress like a streetwalker with short skirts, revealing tops, skin tight pants. Perhaps it wasn’t a matter of enjoyment as much as it was excitement, for she found this sort of public humiliation terribly exciting, even thrilling. Despite her ne’er-do-well brothers, Dhipa came from a very good family, her father was an important and respected lawyer and so her own behavior was always expected to be beyond reproach. In the conservative Pakistani community into which she’d been born, even a hint of female flesh was scandalous, so being made to dress in such scandalous outfits went far beyond the accepted norms. And it was in the tension between being the perfect and dutiful daughter and the outright lascivious slut that she found her excitement. It excited her terribly, and he liked to see her excited. Beneath her yellow miniskirt he had made her wear a pair of very sheer, very tiny, bright red panties, so that if someone should get a glimpse up her skirt there would be no doubt as to what they saw. He knew that the guests would be sitting on the ground in traditional style, and he knew that it would be almost impossible for Dhipa to manage this in such a tiny skirt without flashing her crotch to those sitting nearby. He looked forward to watching the expressions when they saw that bright flash of slutty red, but somehow Dhipa managed to sit and slide her legs under the table cloth without exposing herself too scandalously.. She was radiantly beautiful. The yellow set off her complexion and her natural excitement at being amidst her friends and family at such an affair made her eyes glitter and her skin glow. “Cross your legs.” he whispered to her, determined that she should be seen. “I can’t, Doctor. My skirt’s too short.” “I said, cross your legs.” Dhipa got up on her knees and sat back down, crossing her legs, her ankles under her thighs and stuck her knees beneath the table cloth. The brief yellow skit slid up around her hips, leaving her pussy totally exposed to anyone who should duck to look under the table. She immediately ceased talking to her neighbors across the way and looked down, trying to see how exposed she was in this new position. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. The tables were low, and a person would have to put their head almost on the ground to see the bright red flash of her panties. Her seat mates were talking about another relative, speaking in a mixture of English and Pakistani that the Doctor could not keep up with even if he’d wanted to. Dhipa regained her composure and rejoined the conversation and things seemed fine. Reaching casually under the table, the Doctor slid his hand up her naked thigh and touched her pussy through the sheer fabric of her panties. She jumped, but no one seemed to notice. She looked at him in annoyance, and found him facing her. She could not see his eyes through the dark glasses, but she saw that totally innocent look on his face and it infuriated her. She reached down and took his wrist and tried to push his hand away, without much luck. “Oh yes, and cousin Achmal, Nita and Mousad’s son? He was in France for university but had to leave as the climate was too disagreeable.” a lady was saying. Dhipa didn’t dare press to hard on his wrist or people would notice. She relaxed her grip and the Doctor resumed teasing her pussy, sliding his finger up and down her crease. She tried to ignore him. “Oh yes, but didn’t he marry that girl from Germany?” she asked. He pressed harder, feeling her moist warmth through her panties, and he began to get aroused. He knew that pussy well, knew just where she liked to be touched. He leaned towards Dhipa and pretended to ask her a question as he worked his finger through the leg hole of her panties and touched her naked cunt. “What is that little dish for, darling?” he asked innocently. Dhipa looked at him without losing her composure. “That’s a finger bowl, Darling.” she said. “You wash your fingers in there between courses.” He nodded in feigned amazement. “But what if I’ve already washed my fingers?” he asked as his finger slipped into her vagina. “Then you keep them in your lap!” she hissed, biting her lip to keep from groaning. He knew that this burst of anger wouldn’t last, that inside she loved it when he humiliated her like this, using her in front of other people. She always got angry before her body took over, and her anger wasn’t even directed at him, not really. She was angry at herself for succumbing, and she always succumbed. “What if I want to keep them in someone else’s lap?” he asked her, slowly pumping just the tip of his finger in and out of her pussy. The lewd excitement she felt at being fondled public accelerated her arousal, and already he could feel her pussy beginning to lubricate. He could also see her beginning to blush, though others might miss it in the darkness of her complexion, and she squirmed her hips. The woman opposite Dhipa, the one who’d just been talking about cousin Achmal, looked at her with arch curiosity, knowing something was going on, but not sure of what. The doctor slid the finger in to the second knuckle, and Dhipa gave a barely audible moan and lurched forward, hanging her head so no one would see her face. “What is it, dear?” the woman asked. “Are you ill?” “No.” Dhipa said. “I just get sad sometimes, thinking of everyone being so far apart.” The woman seemed to believe it. And in any case, the food arrived, bowls of rice and lamb, vegetables and sauces, fruits and salads, again more than the Doctor could keep track of. It was the custom to eat with the right hand only, and luckily the Doctor had his left hand in Dhipa’s cunt, so he was able to eat with his right. And when, every so often, he put his left hand to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean, no one took any notice but Dhipa, who hardly touched her food. “Aren’t you well, Dhipa?” the lady asked her. She was holding on to the Doctor’s left arm, resting her head on his shoulder, her head down, her attention on what he was doing in her cunt, trying to suppress her sighs and gasps of pleasure. “She’s tired.” the Doctor said looking at Dhipa sympathetically. “She hardly slept all night.” He kept moving his finger inside her, and he felt her dig her nails into his arm and moan softly in his ear. That meant that she was getting close to orgasm, the obscenity of what he was doing to her bringing her rapidly to crisis. He couldn’t do that to her. Not yet. Not now. The trick was to take her close, as close to the edge as he could, and then stop. Dhipa would retain the heat like a rock in the desert. and would return it later in the privacy of their room, where the feel of his cock inside her would turn her into a shameless sexual animal. He stopped now and withdrew his finger, leaving her hanging in her distress. She squeezed his arm harder in a silent plea to get her off, to finish her and damn the consequences, but he just licked off his fingers and reclined on a pillow as she mewled in frustration and tried to arrange herself. “Attention! Attention!”: a short bald man said at the microphone. “The swimming pool is now open for all who wish to use it!” The rest of what he said was drowned out by the screams of the excited children, many of whom had already changed into their bathing suits. “Pardon us, please.” the Doctor said, standing and helping Dhipa to her unsteady feet. “But I know Dhipa has been looking forward to this swim. It was so good to meet you all.” He led her away, and more than one man watched her hips swaying beneath the tight mini as she walked and wondered who she was. They passed out of the tent and crossed the bright lawn, then into the cool of the hotel. “Will you finish me in the room?” she whispered, pressing her breasts against him as they climbed the stairs. “Certainly not, Dhipa.” he said, pretending to be shocked. “What a scandalous thought. At your own cousin’s wedding too!” She dare not say anything in return. He was still her master, and though he was being kind to her now, she knew he had a terrible mean streak if she pushed him too far. She swallowed her frustration as the boy showed them to their room. She threw her hat on the bed and pulled the pins from her long black hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. The room was spacious with an old, high ceiling. French doors looked out on a small balcony, and the pool was below, now filled with screaming children and adults. “Do you really want to come now?” he asked her. “Yes.” she said, her eyes gleaming with hunger. “Take your skirt off. And your knickers. Let me see how wet you are.” She unzipped the tiny skirt and let it fall down her long legs and stepped out of it., Then she skinned her panties down and threw them aside. “On the bed.” he said, and she climbed onto the bed naked from the waist down. “On your stomach and spread your legs.” Dhipa did as he said, lying on her stomach. She still wore her yellow shoes. The Doctor took a banana from the complimentary bowl of fruit on the table and got on the bed. He ran it up and down her slit a few times and she moaned and raised her hips. “Please.” she said. He spread her apart with one hand, and slowly pressed the banana into her, watching the lips of her pussy distend around it and making her gasp. He watched her pussy with a clinical eye as the banana emerged shiny with her juices. “Play with yourself.” he said. She reached a red-nailed hand beneath her body and she saw her begin to massage her clit as he fucked her with the banana. “You are such a whore.” he said to her softly. “Such a cheap slut. You’re all excited because I finger fucked you in front of your family, aren’t you? Because I shoved my finger into your whore pussy in front of everyone you know. And you know they saw. Your father saw. Your uncles did too. I could see them at the other table. They knew what I was doing. They knew I had my fingers up their Dhipa’s hot juicy cunt, finger fucking you while you begged me to make you come, you shameless slut. They must all know now what a real cock-hungry whore you are, you sweet bitch. All your relatives saw you.” Dhipa groaned and her hand began to move faster. He knew how to play her. He knew just what to say. “They should see you now with a piece of fruit up your pussy, playing with yourself like a slut, like a cheap cock-sucking whore. You’ll put anything in your cunt, won’t you bitch? A piece of fruit or a stranger’s cock, it doesn’t matter to you, you fucking whore!” Dhipa screamed as her feelings hit a peak, but just for a moment. She wasn’t there yet. She lifted her ass off the bed, her fingers now moved in a blur of desperation. “Oh fuck me! Oh God, fuck me!” she panted. The Doctor began to slide the banana rapidly in and out of her sodden cunt while his other hand pressed rhythmically at her asshole. Dhipa’s hips began to buck and hump back at him and she grunted with the effort, squeezing her eyes shut. “Yes!” she moaned. “I am a whore! I’m a slut! I love it! Fuck your whore, master! Fuck your cheap cunt! I’m going to cum! I’m going to cummmm!” Then she was there. She kicked her legs out and arched her back, sucked in a gasp of air and he heard her swallow her scream of release as she came, mewling and sobbing, burying her face in the pillows to stifle her screams. When she finally calmed down he threw the banana on the table and wiped his hand on the bedspread. He went to the table and lit a cigarette, then went over to the window and looked out. “Are you going swimming?” he asked casually. Dhipa was panting on the bed, her hand still at her pussy as she tried to regain control of herself. “I don’t know.: she said at last. “I don’t really feel like it now.” He looked at her casually. “You’re going.” he said. “I packed your suit.” She could imagine what kind of bathing suit he’d packed for her without even seeing it. He knew it was her secret shameful thrill to be seen, just as it was his to have her be seen. He opened the suitcase now and rummaged through the clothes and pulled out a scrap of red fabric. “Put that on.” “Now.” he added. Dhipa pulled herself off the bed and went into the bathroom. As she had suspected, it was the merest wisp of a bikini. A thong back left her behind totally naked, and if she didn’t already keep herself carefully shaved, her pubic hair would no doubt have shown in the front. There was a piece of cloth no larger than a package of cigarettes that preserved the privacy of her pussy. A Wedding With Dhipa There was a piece of string with two dots of fabric to cover her nipples, but the rest of her breasts would be totally exposed, including the heavy, round bottoms. It would be worse than being naked, because she would be calling attention to her nakedness. Yet she put it on, taking some trouble to try and keep her nipples covered. The stepped into the high-heeled cabana shoes he’d bought her, then she walked out to show the Doctor. He smiled at her. “Beautiful.” he said. “I especially like the way it lets the bottoms of your tits show, all that good meat.” He grabbed one of her round breasts and hefted it in his hand. “Turn around.” he said. “Let me see your ass.” It was a true thong, nothing but string running around her waist and between her legs. In the high heels her ass was high and proud and made her look especially slutty. He slapped her ass hard, making her scream in surprise. “There.” he said. “Now they can see who owns you, Dhipa. My handprint shows up clear as day.” Dhipa had developed a kind of mental numbness to these degradations. There was apparently nothing she could do about being forced to wear things like this, and so she simply put her mind in neutral. She knew people would stare at her, people would talk. Her father might even suffer a heart attack. But there was nothing she could do to talk the Doctor out of it. She didn’t even try. “A robe?” she asked half-heartedly. “Yes. Of course. I brought you this.” he said, handing her a brief wrap of the sheerest silk that did little to hide her bare flesh. Even his red handprint was visible through it. Still, it was better than nothing. She put it on, put her hair up again and put on her dark glasses, and got ready for her walk through the lobby, in front of all those people. It might have been a short way as far as distance was concerned, but the number of people they had to walk past was considerable, and all of them gawked. In her yellow outfit it might have been a matter of Dhipa’s just having no sense of propriety, of not knowing how to dress decently for a wedding. But in the bikini and transparent jacket there was no doubt that she was advertising her body, inviting people to look. And they looked. Jaws fell, eyes widened, people nudged one another. Dhipa pretended not to notice but she knew she was blushing, and her blood pounded in her ears. With each step she could feel her breasts jounce on her chest and her buttocks shimmy. He nipples quickly stiffened and that just added to her shame and excitement. She was getting very excited. The Doctor trailed her by a few steps so he could enjoy the spectacle and perhaps overhear some comments so he could tell her later what they said, but most of the muttering was not in English. The look of shock and outrage on their faces was priceless though. He couldn’t say whether he just enjoyed seeing Dhipa’s humiliation, or whether it was her own excitement that communicated itself to him, but he had come to treasure these scenes. He wished he had brought a video camera. It occurred to him now that there might be a chance of getting Dhipa fucked while they were here too. He doubted whether he could arrange things with any of the Pakistanis, but there were some Anglos here too, and one or more of them might be interested. Nothing excited her more than being rough-fucked by strangers, treated like the whore she thought she was. When they emerged onto the deck of the pool Dhipa simply couldn’t take it any more. She quickly shed her wrap and ran jiggling and bouncing to the pool where she sought to hide herself in the water. The Doctor jumped in right after her, both still wearing their dark glasses. The pool was filled with kids splashing around and screaming, and some of the younger adults were in there too, making it fairly crowded. The Doctor and Dhipa took up a position near the wall where they had some space of their own, and the Doctor immediately put his arms on her hips and pulled her closer. “Doctor, please. Not here…” “Open your legs, you little cunt.” he said. He loved to tease her when she was humiliated like this, to make it worse. He began to rub his fingers up and down her pussy. “Doctor! Bashir is coming!” she gestured with her chin to where her eldest brother was making his ponderous way along the pool deck. Bashir was big, gross, with the heavy, sleepy eyelids of a snake. He never seemed to be quite clean, and the Doctor and most others knew him to be a cruel and lascivious bully, cheat, and liar. He wore a particularly ugly smile as he walked over to them now, dressed in street clothes, his shirt buttoned to the neck. “Dhipa” he said. “Father is here. He would like to see you. And your fiancé.” “Oh my God!” Dhipa breathed. Should her father see in her in this microscopic bikini, he would no doubt die on the spot. “Where is he now?” Bashir’s smile broadened. “Oh he is inside. He’s coming out directly. He’ll see you here.” Dhipa flashed a worried look at the Doctor, who knew when she’d had too much. Letting her father see her dressed like this would be beyond all reason. “There’s a tee shirt in the bag on the lounge. Why don’t you dry off and put that on?” he said. She nodded and quickly climbed out of the pool, wrapping herself in a towel. She stepped into her shoes, took the bag and walked as quickly as she could to one of the changing cabanas at one end of the pool. Bashir, watching her go, grinned to himself with satisfaction before turned and walking away without a word to the Doctor. Dhipa found an open cabana and locked the door behind her. She dried herself as quickly as she could, and dug around for the tee-shirt, but she realized that this wouldn’t work. Her suit would show through the white cotton of the tee shirt. Worse, the wet suit would leave wet patches that would just accentuate her nipples and pussy. She stripped off the tiny suit and toweled thoroughly dry. She had no panties, but the shirt came down to mid thigh. She would be all right like this long enough to tell her father hello; no one would know that she was naked beneath. She was still scandalous, but not to the point of whorishness. She straightened her hair and fixed her makeup as quickly as she could, put on her sunglasses, threw her wet suit in the bag and stepped out. From the other end of the pool, Bashir watched her. He didn’t like the Doctor. He didn’t like Dhipa much either, and when he saw her emerge from the cabana he had a sudden brainstorm. He bent down and grabbed one of the children running by with their buckets of water and said a few words. The boy looked at Dhipa, nodded, took some money from Bashir, and called to his friend. The two little boys ran down to where Dhipa was standing, dipped their buckets into the pool, and at the count of three threw the water on her with an excited squeal and ran. Dhipa’s scream of shock was heard by everyone at the pool as she stood there dripping from head to foot. It took her a minutes to understand what happened, and then she laughed when she realized it had just been two mischievous boys having fun. But she didn’t realize what the water had done to the tee shirt and to her body under it. The sodden garment now clung to her skin like transparent latex, sticking to every bulge and every curve, clinging to the enticing lines of her breasts and making her nipples plainly visible. Even her trimmed patch of pubic hair was outlined, each hair clearly distinguishable through the nearly transparent fabric. Not only that, but the cold water had stiffened her nipples into little peaks, which poked provocatively through the damp tee-shirt. By the time she realized that she was practically naked in front of all these friends and relatives, it was too late. Her father was already making his way along the deck of the pool, and she saw his face as he recognized her. She saw his eyebrows go up and his eyes widen with horror as the color drained from his face, and he quickly looked away and turned as if he hadn’t seen her at all, as did a lot of people standing near her, ashamed and embarrassed for her. The Doctor watched all this with interest. Dhipa couldn’t have advertised her body any better if she had put a giant neon sign on her head saying “I’m a whore”, and even the porters and bell boys in the hotel had stopped dead in their tracks to look at her. He knew that every cock in the place must be stiff for her right now, and the only thing that bothered him was that he hadn’t thought of throwing the water on her himself. This would make it easy for him to find some other men who’d be happy to gang-fuck his little slut later tonight, and the thought of fucking her mouth while some other man crammed his prick up her pussy made him eager to get started right now. Dhipa tried to cover herself and came over to the side of the pool. “Get me a robe! Please! Everyone’s staring at me!” “I know.” he said with a smile. “You’re something to see.” “No!” she said. “I’ve got to get back to the room. Right now!” “Wait. I’ll come with you.” He grabbed a towel and dried himself off, then threw it around his neck and took her arm. “At least give me your towel so I can cover myself.” she said as they walked along the pool deck towards the hotel. “No. I think you look great. I love the way your tits jiggle as you walk. And you should see your ass!” Dhipa blushed furiously. The sunglasses were some cover but not much. She was still wearing the high-heeled shoes he had made her take to the pool, and they did make her tits and ass shake beneath the clinging wet tee shirt as she walked into the lobby, where they were met by more open-mouthed stares of disbelief. She tried to look composed, but it was hard when she was so totally on display. She caught sight of Bashir leering at her with an evil-looking smile on his face, enjoying her discomfort, and she felt like she could claw his eyes out that moment. The Doctor took his time steering her towards the elevators. “Oh look.” he said to her, spotting two Anglos in the crowd. “There’s Rod and Harry. Let’s go say hello.” “No.” Dhipa begged. “please!” But the Doctor dragged her over and introduced her to the two men who he apparently already knew from somewhere. How they got invited to the wedding, she did not know, but she stood there shivering, trying to hide her erect nipples behind her folded arms, knowing that just exposed her pussy to their gaze as the Doctor chatted them up. She didn’t notice a thing they were saying until she realized that the Doctor was talking price with them, and in a voice quite a bit louder than he normally used. He was offering her to them. “Since we’re all friends here, let’s say two hundred a piece, eh?” She couldn’t have been more horrified, and the only reason she didn’t explode in fury right there is that she didn’t want to attract any more attention than what she already had. She just wanted to get out of there. Rod, who had straight brown hair and a beard, smiled broadly and stood up. Harry, short and stocky, with curly blonde hair, followed him, and the four of them walked over to the elevator, the Doctor maintaining a firm hold on her arm as Dhipa tried not to look at anyone. What had just transpired between the Doctor and these two strangers had been so obvious that there could be no doubt about where the four of them were now going and what they were going to do there. All eyes were aware of what was happening. It seemed like a lifetime before the elevator came, and when she finally stepped inside and the doors closed, she sagged with relief. “Is she all right?” Harry asked. The Doctor laughed. “Are you kidding? She loves it! Don’t let her fool you. She loves showing off that body. It gives her a thrill, doesn’t it, Dhipa?” Dhipa stood there burning with shame and excitement as the elevator glided upward and the men laughed nervously. They knew there was something queer going on here, but they had been promised a taste of her, and that’s all they really cared about. The Doctor put his arm around her and pulled her back against the wall of the elevator as he slid his hand between her legs. Her eyes went wide with shock at his callous treatment of her. “Yeah. She’s soaking wet. And not from water.” he said, pulling his hand out and showing them the oil on his fingers. Despite her anger and humiliation, his touch had set her afire with shameful lust. She wanted to ask them what they thought they were going to do with her in the room, but she didn’t have to. They were already dividing her up. “I want her pussy at least once.” the Doctor was saying. “She can suck one of you off while I’m fucking her. She likes that.” “Does she take it in the ass?” Rod asked. “She can, but it’s a lot of bother. She screams a lot.” The Doctor slid his hand under her shirt again and probed her asshole with his finger tip, making her squeal in anger and clench her buttocks together to keep him out. He laughed and slapped her ass. “Besides, the back door will cost you more.” Sometimes he pushed this too far, she thought furiously. A little humiliation, a little teasing was all right, but sometimes she felt that he forgot who she really was. And yet the thought of what these two men must think of her right now filled her with wicked excitement. Sometimes he gauged her just right. They got off the elevator and walked her down to the room, the two men already rubbing against her, pushing their cocks against her hands, squeezing her tits and playing with her ass, using her like a slut. As the doctor opened the door Rod got behind her, grabbed her tits and began to hump her ass, laughing. He was already hard and she felt his big cock dig into her ass. As soon as they got in the room the Doctor pushed her down on the bed and pulled her tee-shirt off of her, leaving her entirely naked. “No!” she protested, sitting up and hiding her breasts behind her crossed arms. But the Doctor pushed her back down on the bed. “No time for modesty now, darling. We have guests.” the Doctor said, pulling her forward on the bed by her ankles. He spread her legs and knelt down, lowering his face to her pussy. The feel of his tongue on her was electric, and despite her embarrassment Dhipa jumped and arched her back as if she’d been shocked. The two men watched appreciatively until Dhipa gave up struggling and turned her face to the side so they wouldn’t see her excitement. She could hear them laughing as they stripped off their clothes and when she saw their hard cocks spring into view she surrendered to the hot pangs of agitation she felt inside. Rod knee walked over to her and guided her face toward his stiff prick, and she closed her eyes in denial but opened her mouth and let him push into her, hearing him moan with pleasure. He was delicious, hot and meaty, throbbing in her mouth, and he hissed with excitement as she twirled her tongue around him. The Doctor’s tongue at her pussy made her nipples harden even more, and when Harry took her hand and put his cock in it, she was in a confused heaven of shame and bliss. “Okay. Here we go.” The Doctor said, climbing between her thighs. “Watch her come alive. Nothing she likes better than getting fucked while she sucks someone off.” She winced at his crude words, even though she felt a lewd thrill run through her because she knew it was true. He shoved his rigid cock into her and she cried out through her dick-stuffed lips. She fell back on the bed losing all resistance to their assault, and let the Doctor fuck her hard and deep, driving his cock into her again and again as she sucked and gobbled at Rod’s piece in her mouth. “Suck me, you little bitch!” Rod hissed at her as he squeezed her tit. “Suck my prick, baby! Yeah! Look at her go!” She knew the spectacle she must make lying there and doing all three of them. Their cocks seemed almost as big as she was, all hard, all throbbing with need for her. The Doctor grabbed her ass and wormed his finger into her anus, began fucking his finger in and out in counterpoint to his cock. As he lay on top of her he was only inches from where Rod’s thick cock slid in and out of her mouth, and he could see the trickle of saliva from the corner of her lips and hear the sudsy sound as the cock churned between her cheeks, hear her breath sighing through her dilated nostrils and the little grunts she made whenever Rod pushed too deep and battered the back of her throat. She was stuffed with cock, but he knew that what got her off was the callous way they used her. It was something he’d never understand, but something he’d come to accept as the price for loving her. She had to have it dirty and degrading. She had to be used. She was tense now, the cords in her neck standing out, her face getting flushed, and he knew she might be having her own orgasm. Her one hand held Harry’s cock, her other reached blindly this way and that, first to Rod’s cock, and then to the Doctor’s head as she lost control of herself, finally settling on the Doctor’s shoulder where she dug her nails into him, arching her body and trembling as she came. The Doctor stiffened on top of her, drove his prick deep, and as she fell back down from her orgasm she felt him throb inside her with delicious release, flooding her with his hot wet come. He rolled off her and Rod took his place, sticking his cock into her come-soaked pussy as Harry took over Dhipa’s mouth. Rod was excited, and fucked her hard, shaking the bed and making her moan, and no sooner had he come inside her than Harry flipped her over and made her get up on her hands and knees, then slid his prick into her dripping cunt from behind, grabbed her tits and rode her like an animal. The Doctor leaned against the desk smoking a cigarette, his cock still limp as Harry fucked her hard and Dhipa gasped and grunted. Rod cleaned himself off on a towel and then just stood and watched them too. The come dripped down her thighs with every stroke of Harry’s cock into her, and she put her face down on the bed and sobbed in excitement as Harry reached around and played with her clit as he fucked her. The Doctor looked at his watch. There was still two hours before dinner, but he wanted to take a nap too, so he cleared his throat to get Harry’s attention. When Harry looked over, the Doctor made little circular gestures with his finger, telling him to speed it up, and Harry responded by redoubling his pace, till his ass was a blur as he fucked her and Dhipa’s long continuous wail was given staccato accents every time he banged into her. It was the lewdness of the Doctor’s gesture rather than Harry’s response that got to her, the brutal crassness of it, that showed she was nothing but a cunt for hire and that time was up. But suddenly she came, hanging her head and wailing as Harry’s cock continued to pummel her. Her spasms of contraction set Harry off too, and with a ferocious growl he crammed into her and spewed his load into her overflowing cunt, almost getting to his feet and climbing over her in his excitement.. The men cleaned up and made some jokes with the Doctor, talking in low tones as she lay collapsed on the bed, bruised and sore. They paid him, and after they left he just threw the money on the dresser. He didn’t need it. It wasn’t even worth his while to put it in his wallet. He stretched sleepily and sat down on the other bed. “Well?” he said. Dhipa raised herself up on her elbows, feeling the semen leaking out of her. Then, weariness overtaking her, she collapsed back down, combing her hair out of her face with her fingers. “It was good.” she said. “Is that what you mean?” “Just good?” Dhipa thought for a while, staring at the ceiling, remembering her emotions. “It was the walk through the lobby that got me.” she said. “That was very good. I thought I was going to come right there.” A Wedding With Dhipa “They were all looking at you. Every eye in the place.” “Mmm.” she said. “I know. I mean, I couldn’t look, but I could feel them all. God I felt so filthy, so fucking cheap.” As she said this she raised her hands and absently began to circle her nipples with her red-painted nails. “And now how are you going to face them all?” he asked. She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. These aren’t strangers. I’ve known some of these people since I was just a little girl. A part of me hates to do this.” “And a part of you just loves the hell out of it.” She turned her face away. The truth was, she didn’t know how she felt about this or why she had to do it. She had stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago. All she knew now was that the thrill it gave her was more intense sometimes than the sex itself. She felt deliciously fucked and used, she still felt the excited touch of strangers’ hands on her body, felt the desperate thrust of their cocks inside her, how badly they wanted her. “What about your father?” he asked. She turned back to him and her face grew serious. Again she pushed her hair back behind her ears. It was a gesture she made when she was forced to reflect. “He’ll know sooner or later.” “But was that the best way of telling him?” “That was Bashir’s doing. The shit. Doctor, give me a cigarette. Please.” He got up, took one from the pack on the dresser and lit it for her. She took it in her slim fingers and took a deep pull on it. “God, that was good too. That was so exciting. Could you really see everything?” “I could have counted every pubic hair.” he said. “Even the kitchen staff came out to see.” Dhipa smiled and crushed the cigarette out. “Doctor?” she asked. “Fuck me? I need it again. For real this time.” He laughed. “Not now, darling. We’ve only got a couple of hours before dinner, and I want to sleep. You should too. We night try something new tonight. You’ll need your strength.” ***** Dinner that night was an elaborate banquet, a traditional Western-style sit-down meal, and formal, so the Doctor didn’t dictate Dhipa’s wardrobe. She wore a very simple and elegant white shift, perhaps a shade too tight across the hips and bosom, but then he did want to show off the fact that she wore no underthings. While he didn’t have much opportunity to make her parade around in front of the guests, she did make a suitable impression on the people at their table, and turned enough heads so that dinner was interesting and more than a little amusing. By now all the guests knew of Dhipa, and wherever she went she was preceded by a wave of whispered warnings and elbows to the ribs. She was aware of this of course, and it was the only thing that made the dinner bearable to her, in a perverse way. She could no longer separate her sense of shame from her sense of pride; they’d become entirely and totally mixed, so that to feel one was to feel the other. The Doctor understood this better than she did. She only knew that she was what she was, and it was up to them to deal with her as best they could. After the dinner the bars were opened, the tables were pushed back for speeches and small entertainments, and a band set up for the dancing that was to follow. Many couples retired to change into more comfortable clothes, and the Doctor went through his wardrobe for something suitable for Dhipa. He settled on a pair of skin-tight pants tailored so as to separate and show off each buttock, the seam running tight and snug right against her flesh and caressing her with every step she took. What made the pants so terribly trashy was not the very thin and clingy synthetic fabric, in gloss black of course, but the lacing that ran up the outside of each leg from cuff to belt, showing an unbroken band of skin. The top was a simple scoop-neck affair of the same weightless fabric which showed off her nipples and the rounded mass of her breasts. The four inch heels she wore were not really very well suited for dancing, but they made her legs look fantastic and they gave her body a fascinating jiggle as she walked, which kept her in a state of high arousal. In any case, the Doctor was not much of a one for dancing, and the few times he led her to the floor for a slow, romantic torch song she had to constantly remind him to keep his hand where it belonged: on her back, and not on her behind. But he was too busy going table to table to line up recruits for his private entertainment for the night to dance with her much. “I can’t tell you who she is,” he was telling one table of young men. “but she’s good-looking and she’s clean and she fucks like crazy. And at these prices, gentlemen, you could, as they say, put a cloth over her face and fuck for flag and country. Now who’s interested?” At fifty dollars a head he soon had more than enough subscribers and went out to the desk to arrange for another room for Mr. and Mrs. Ecks, a suite in an isolated part of the hotel. Then it was back to his patrons to give them a rough timetable. He didn’t want them all showing up at once. At about eleven the party was already winding down. Most of the guests were not late night people, and people were wandering off to bed or to look for something more exciting to do. The Doctor found Dhipa at the bar surrounded by men, excused her, and took her back to the room. “I’ve arranged for you to entertain some of the guests tonight, love.” he told her. “But they’re not to know your identity.” Dhipa, irritated by being dragged away from the party, asked him, “And how are you going to do that?” He held up a pillow case. “With this.” Her jaw fell. “Oh no! You’re insane! I’ll suffocate in there! They’ll hear me! They’ll know who I am! I won’t do it!” “Try it on.” he said. “We can put a drawstring through the opening and tie it around your neck.” “You’re out of your mind! Doctor really! I can’t!” Ignoring her, he put the pillowcase over her head and drew it down. He couldn’t see her at all through the cloth, but she could see out slightly. “This is ridiculous.” she said. “Take off your clothes.” “Doctor…” “Take off your clothes, Dhipa!” She wiggled out of her pants. She managed to get the top off without removing the pillow case and stood naked before the mirror. She looked grotesque. There was something very obscene about the sight of her lovely body surmounted by that featureless cloth. When the Doctor went behind her and pulled the case tighter around her face so that her head assumed a more normal size, the effect changed. Now she looked tragic, victimized, like a casualty of war or a corpse. And yet her body looked so alive and terribly sexual. She could see herself in the mirror and she almost gasped. “Oh my God.” she said. “I look horrible. I look like the victim of a lynching or something.” The Doctor’s eyes were intense. “I know. It’s bizarre, isn’t it.” “It’s frightening.” she said. “No Doctor, I can’t.” He grabbed her shoulders and she could tell by his grip and by the look in his eyes that she would have to. Something horrid and perverse was stirred inside him, and inside her as well. Only he wasn’t the one who would have to lie there with his head in the bag and be fucked by men he didn’t know. Minutes later he was dragging her down the hall to the room he had rented, a suitcase in his other hand. Dhipa was still objecting, but it was only for form now. The whole idea was terribly exciting to her, and she clutched her robe to her body and staggered along after him as well as her heels would allow. The Doctor turned on the lights in the new suite and looked around. “This room will be the waiting room.” he said. He led her then into the bedroom. “You’ll be in here. Then they can go out through the bathroom so it’s perfect.” He drew the shades, turned off the overhead lights and threw a red scarf over the bedside light. He went into the bathroom and came out with two large towels which he spread out on the bed. She knew what that was for and she felt fear or excitement stir in the pit of her stomach. “Take off your clothes.” he said. “Your jewelry too. Even your earrings. Give them to me. I want to tie you to the bed.” “Tie me?” “Yes. I’ll stay with you the whole time, so don’t worry. You know what to do if you really want to stop.” “But they’ll recognize me.” “Maybe.” he said. “Isn’t that the point?” He tied her wrists to the headboard and left her hands free. He smoothed the pillowcase over her head and tied it around her neck with a couple of lashings of rope. As he was doing this they heard the door to the suite open several times as the men began to arrive. The Doctor went out to speak to them leaving Dhipa alone in the darkness, smelling the starch in the pillow case and straining her ears. She could hear him speaking in his usual public voice, slowly and reasonably, but when he came back into the room his voice was hot and excited. He sat down next to her on the bed. “Do you know how sexy you look, you hot bitch?” he asked her as he ran his hand over her naked body. “I could just come in my fucking pants looking at you like this. This is going to get me so goddamn hot! I love you so much, Dhipa! I just love you to pieces. If I die tomorrow I’ll die happy because of what you’re doing for me tonight. Are you ready?” “No. Not yet, Doctor.” she felt his weight leave the bed and then press down by her hips, then she felt his lips as he kissed her thighs, her mons, kissed her pussy. In spite of her nervousness Dhipa lifted her hips to his kisses and spread herself for him. She knew what he was doing. He was getting her ready, getting her wet, and already she felt her body respond even as she closed her eyes in fear and horror. She could feel his heat and desire as he licked her and slid his tongue along her flesh, teased her clit and fingered her pussy. She was ready before she thought possible, ready and excited. “Okay.” he said. She waited for the first man to come in. She heard the door close behind him and the Doctor said, “There she is, my man.” “Oh yeah!” he said. Dhipa didn’t recognize his voice. She heard the jingle of a buckle and the sound of a zipper. “Just…do it?” he asked. “That’s what she’s here for.” the Doctor said. Dhipa felt the man’s weight on the bed as he climbed between her legs. He squeezed her breast in his unfamiliar hand, ran his hand over her body and down to her pussy. “Fuck! She’s already wet.” he said. “Then do it.” “Yeah.” he said. “Yeah, fuck! Why not?” Dhipa winced and bit her lip as she felt him put his cock against her pussy, he was not fully hard yet but he quickly firm up, and then he pushed forward and penetrated her, making her groan in shame. He didn’t seem very experienced and he immediately began to writhe on top of her, hardly knowing where to touch her first, his hips humping clumsily at her as he gasped wildly, almost beside himself. He finally began caressing her breasts and kissing them as he worked his cock around inside her before settling down to a more or less steady thrusting, the zipper from his pants scraping the inside of her thigh. “Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah!” he chanted. She pulled at the bonds and gripped the ropes as she felt him tighten, and before she would have believed possible he was slamming into her as his cock throbbed inside, spitting his load inside her cunt. The Doctor gave him a moment to catch his breath, then said. “Others are waiting, my man.” She felt him get up and heard him leave, his buckle still jingling as he hobbled out. “You okay?” The Doctor asked her after he’d left. “Yes.” she whispered breathlessly. “Doctor? How many?” “Enough.” he said. The next man had come in and was unbuckling his pants. By the fourth man Dhipa was in a state of desperate heat. She was no longer afraid of being discovered. It just wasn’t important. The way the men used her, the things they said, the way they touched her, the way they jerked and pushed as they ejaculated; it was all dizzying. Some folded her legs up against her chest, some left them as the were. Some suckled on her breasts, some seemed loathe to touch her at all except with their pricks. And all through it she was haunted by the image of what she must look like there, without a face, without a voice, without a soul. The men came in, saw her lying there tied to the bed, her breasts sheened with perspiration and saliva, the towel bunched up beneath her ass. She lifted her lags as she felt them get between them, and she lifted her hips as they slid into her come-soaked pussy. Some of them grabbed her ass, slippery with semen, others just held themselves up so they could watch her big tits shake as they fucked her, or stare down at the pillow case over her head. Her helplessness seemed to set something off inside them, and they pounded her ferociously, as if she weren't human. Occasionally she would groan or grunt or whine, and some of them got so carried away that they tried to kiss her through the pillowcase. None of them lasted very long because none of the wanted to. She was no more than a soft hole and a pair of tits as far as they were concerned. That’s what they paid for, and that’s what they wanted. Such degradation was almost beyond what she could stand though. There was something terrible about lying there with her entire head covered so that the men had no idea of who she was. She might have been their own sister, or the wife of a friend. None of them seemed to care. They just fucked her, spewing their come inside or over her stomach and breasts, one after another. After the sixth man she told him that was enough, but he let in three more, letting two watch while one fucked her till they all had had their turn. Then another three before he stopped it, sending the others away after giving them their money back and something extra for their disappointment. Dhipa was still lying there, panting beneath the pillowcase, bruised and exhausted and covered in semen when she heard the last of them leave and the Doctor lock the door. He came back into the room and she heard him stop by the bed, then nothing. He must be staring at her. She heard him undo his belt. Heard the zipper follow, then the rustle of material as he dropped his pants. “No, please, Doctor. I can’t. I’m too sore. I can’t I…. Oh Goddd!” He sunk into her to the hilt, the thickness of his cock causing more semen to ooze out of her stuffed pussy as he let his weight down on top of her and kissed her neck. He used his cock as a probe, searching for that one spot where she still felt things, that she kept just for him. He searched and he found it. “You sweet fucking whore.” he whispered to her. “You cheap slut! I love your filthy ass, you know that? You cunt!” He grabbed her breasts, red with the marks of strangers’ teeth and hands, and ran his thumbs around her nipples. “You make me fuck you when you’re filled with other men’s come. How does that make you feel, Dhipa? Do you like it? It’s the only way you can get off, isn’t it, baby? You cheap little tramp! You hot little piece!” “Yes! Yes!” she moaned, feeling herself rising to another climax. “Fuck me! I’m your whore! I’m your slut! Just fuck me! Fuck me!"