4 comments/ 59076 views/ 30 favorites The Power of Force and Pain By: mandywilluk2000 This is part of an occasional series looking at the power of different aspects of sex. It's a follow on to my piece, the Power of Photography. I recommend that you read that before this. * Chapter 1 It wasn't the fact that I was standing in the tiny kitchen in his poky flat in Blackheath, South London. It wasn't the fact that I was only wearing a black suspender belt and fishnet stockings. It wasn't the fact that Matt was buried into me as deeply as he could be. It wasn't also the fact that he was fucking me from behind, that his balls were slapping against my arse, my full tits were flying around all over the place and my long, unruly chestnut coloured hair was hanging down over my face. No it was none of those facts that made this so different, so unusual and so exciting. Our affair, which had started with him 'pulling' me in Starbucks when I dropped some 'compromising' photos of myself on the floor, had progressed rapidly. We met regularly, but not that frequently for his job as a police officer was demanding and I, being divorced, had my fifteen year old daughter to look after alone. We managed to meet probably twice every three weeks or so I guess. On reflection, since he had moved from the very suburban, social graveyard of Dartford in Kent, which was thirty miles from my Dockland's apartment, to the pleasantly, upscale inner-city village of Blackheath, which was just across, or just under using the Blackwall Tunnel, the Thames, it had probably become weekly or more. A pattern had developed quite quickly. He would start photographing me. Fully dressed, buttons undone, in underwear that I happened to be wearing, in special stuff he or I bought or naked. In my apartment, his little flat and occasionally outdoors. Me just posing, caressing my breasts, touching my pussy and, lately fingering myself or using a vibrator. We rarely got far before we fucked. We had both fallen under the spell of the power of photography. But this time it wasn't the fact that he had photographed me. It wasn't the fact that when I lifted my skirt up I wasn't wearing panties. It wasn't the fact that I hadn't been during the lunch we'd had in Costa Coffee across from the station in the village, and it wasn't the fact that we quickly moved from photographing to fucking. No it was none of those facts that was giving me the unusual and never before experienced combination of extreme thrills and enormous trepidation I was feeling in that small kitchen. Something else had crept into our relationship. Well not relationship, we didn't really have one of those, simply our sex. That was aggression. So it was none of those facts that were giving me these amazing sensations. It was the facts that: he was squeezing my breasts far harder than they should be squeezed, pinching and pulling my nipples far harder than they should be pinched and pulled and that he had grabbed my hair and was yanking it far more aggressively than it should be yanked. Yes it was the power of pain, the power of force that was turning me on so much. Chapter 2 That was the start, well pretty much, but thinking back, there had been a couple or three occasions when he had pinched me rather hard, dug his nails into the soft flesh of my buttocks, thighs or tits and sucked overly fiercely on my nipples. I hadn't complained, so presumably Matt thought I was giving him the green light, that I was into being roughed up a bit and was used to being hurt as part of a sexual relationship. I wasn't, but I had to admit it did something to me, something odd, something different and something that I sort of enjoyed. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but I found myself welcoming his more aggressive lovemaking. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" He growled his nails digging in my breasts. I didn't reply, but instead writhed myself against his cock, which was deeply in me. "Aren't you?" He repeated louder, giving a strong yank on my hair. "Yes, sort of," I whimpered the pain on my boobs and scalp getting to me. "What the fuck's that mean, sort of?" "I er, I um, I don't know Matt," I mewed, loving what his cock was doing to me, but wondering why I didn't object to his nails digging into my boobs and his hand pulling my hair. He seemed to pull harder on my hair and dig deeper with his nails. The pain from both was searing. It hurt, it was agony and painful, but it mixed with the glorious sensations that his cock was creating deep inside me. I couldn't understand it. I didn't honestly know whether I was enjoying it or what I was feeling; all I did know was that I didn't want him to stop. The orgasm he gave me was awesome. It was right up there with anything I had ever had before. It ranked with the one he gave me the first time he photographed me, the one I had the first time I had sex with a woman, the massive one I had when I had my affair with David, probably the real love of my life, while I was married and with any that my ex, Kevin ever gave me. After the sex, we didn't talk about it. We didn't discuss what he had done to me and my reaction. We didn't review our feelings or analyse what we had both got from his much harder than usual squeezing, pinching and pulling. We didn't talk about it, but I thought about it, a lot. Usually, I am able to work out why I did something, why I reacted and acted in a certain way. I can generally work out what it was that caused me to gain enjoyment or other sensations from most experiences, especially of a sexual nature. I had been able to do that and had come to terms with my reaction to Matt wanting to photograph me and, more significantly, me wanting him to do that. I had, after a great deal of thought, understood and had coped with the evident need I had, although it may have lain dormant for years, to exhibit myself. This, though, was different. I had no idea why I had enjoyed Matt becoming more aggressive with me and I had no one, not surprisingly, with whom I could discuss it, not even him. Our relationship wasn't like that, but then I don't think many are. Until you have developed a long-lasting, very trusting, perhaps even loving relationship with someone, it's usually too difficult to discuss in detail your sexual wants and the reasons why you like certain aspects of sex. As the saying goes, 'some things are best left unsaid!' Chapter 3. We'd had sex before dinner. It was quick and energetic with no photos. He had pressed me face first against the floor to ceiling, sliding glass doors that led out to my balcony, overlooking the Thames in the distance. I knew I could not be seen, unless someone in the high rise flats over the south side was using a telescope or binoculars. I doubted that, but I had seen numerous flashes of the sun on glass during the day recently, particularly since I had been sunbathing out on the balcony, yes topless, of course. I was naked and the cold glass on my breasts made for a strange sensation, strange but nice. They were squashed against the glass, which almost flattened the dd sized mounds. Looking down on them as he fucked me from behind, they looked huge and I realised another diet was required. Why is it in winter, when I play less golf and put on a little weight most of it goes to my tits, I always wonder? Matt was on the ten pm to six am shift, and Sara, my thirteen-year-old daughter, was out for the night. I'd been able to have him round for the evening giving him a mild panic attacks by cooking him dinner, pasta, cheese sauce, from a packet sprinkled with some herbs and crusty French bread. A nice bottle, or two, of Chablis would have completed it and possibly diverted him from the slightly overcooked pasta, but in deference to him having to go to work to keep us all safe, we just drank San Pellegrino. I hadn't showered after sex, for I had to fix the dinner, so I had slipped into a pair of combats and an old tee shirt. After dinner though, I needed a shower and went and had one as Matt watched some football on TV. I saw that it was nearly nine and realised he would have to leave soon. There didn't seem much point in getting dressed for I would go to bed directly he left, which would probably be nine forty five or so I guessed. I slipped into the thin, cotton, sleeping shorts and a singlet, a bit like a mans' vest, that I had taken to wearing lately, the vest outside the pants, not tucked in. I had until recently always slept naked. In the mornings I would put on a dressing robe to get Sara's breakfast. We had a pretty open and relaxed relationship and often I would find the gown gaping and showing most of my breasts or slipping open beneath the waist exposing my thighs. That had been fine until the past few weeks. If that happened to the robe now, Sara would see the fierce red marks on my breasts and inner thighs that were the leftovers of my sex with Matt. Hence the new outfit. The apartment is very open plan. Basically one large room, about 45 by 30 feet square with, as the architects love to call them, separate 'areas.' Dining one end, seating around a fire place the other. Two alcoves, one a kitchen 'area' and the other, the smaller one, the 'study' area. The mezzanine upstairs sleeping 'area' was about two thirds the area of the downstairs. Here there wasn't 'areas, but rooms, the master bedroom and two more roughly the same size. There was a twelve stair, open staircase linking the downstairs to the mezzanine, so the link from one to other is easy. I walked down the stairs and I couldn't believe what I saw. He was lying on the six-seater sofa, naked. All round the room were ten by eight inch photos propped up on shelves, chairs and other furniture. All were of me in varying stages of undress including naked shots and close ups of my most private places, some with my fingers doing the most wonderfully rude things. Matt was smoking and there were several bottles of beer on the floor. "What the fuck are you doing?" "Nothing." "What you mean nothing, you idiot." Sounding like Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda, he said. "Don't call me an idiot." I was too pissed off to be discrete. "You are an idiot and acting like one, smoking and drinking in my lounge. You've got to go to work." "Stop it, Mandy." "What do you mean, telling me to stop it, it's my fucking apartment you're trashing" "I'm not trashing it." "Well you're acting like a yob, the sort you're supposed to catch." As I walked down the stairs he stood up. "I'm not a yob." "You are, you're just a bloody fascist yob, like most of the fucking police force," I snarled, a little cruelly, but then it was probably true. "I wasn't a yob just now was I?" "When?" I asked. I started to tidy up forgetting what I was wearing, the short shorts and vest and, more to the point, what I wasn't wearing, a bra. As I bent forward and reached out to pick up the bottles, ash tray and newspaper, my tits were all over the place and the front of the vest was gaping alarmingly. "When I fucked you," was your reply. "I wasn't a yob when I fucked you and made you cum was I?" He went on the booze obviously badly affecting him, for his dark side was starting to appear. "I wasn't a yob when I had you up against the window, your tits squashed against it was I? You liked that you slag didn't you?" "Don't." I said "Don't what?" "Talk about that," I went on taking all the debris into the 'kitchen area.' "Why not, I want to talk about it," he said following me into the kitchen. I shoved the bottles and ashtray remnants into the bin and turned to look at him. I was furious. But when I saw him, I was also shocked, it hadn't really registered that he was naked. And it hadn't registered at all that he was semi-erect and getting harder. "What are the bloody photos there for? You're daft." I said going to walk past you out of the kitchen. As I went past him, he grabbed my arm. "Let go." "No," he said grabbing both my arms and turning me towards him. "I want to kiss you." I struggled and broke one arm away. "No Matt, you can't." "Why not?" "It's over, this is going crazy." He grabbed me again and pulled me against him. His cock was now rigid, fuck I thought, he wants sex again. "Let go." "No, I want you. It's not over." "You can't have me now." "I can, I can fucking-well have you when I want, you're my slut." He said pushing his cock hard against the cotton shorts and my soft tummy. "You can't. That's it Matt." "What do you mean, that's it? I decide when this is over, when I want to get rid of my slut?" He growled, holding me tighter. I started to struggle. "No Matt, you don't, I do." "In your fucking dreams," he said crushing me against him and grabbing hold of my bum. "Let me go," I growled struggling and half breaking away, but not before he reached out and got hold of my boob. I squirmed and broke the contact with my tit, but he grabbed the vest. "Stop it Matt, this is crazy, you're acting like a lunatic." "It's not crazy and don't call me a lunatic." Bloody Kevin Kline again, I thought, nearly smiling "Matt you're being ridiculous," I said pulling away, but being restrained by his grip on the material of the vest. "Can't you see it's over?" "I told you I'll decide when it's over," he snarled grabbing my boob again. "Oh no you don't, I'm telling you we're finished." "I'll tell you why you can't decide that, slag." "No you won't," I said, the dialogue sounding a bit like pantomime. "Ok maybe I won't, but these will," he said shoving me into the lounge. "All your fucking photos say it's not over Mandy." "What do you mean?" I asked, my heart sinking. "I have them all on pc together with lots of e-mail addresses including, of course Sara's?" "You don't, you wouldn't." "I do and I would, so shut the fuck up and get on your back on that nice leather settee." "You're insane. You're acting like a lunatic." "I'm sane enough to fuck you and make you cum so I am not a lunatic," he said pulling the vest. He stretched it very tightly across my boobs and the top of it was pulled down so that my nipples were almost showing. He saw that and pulled harder on the top so that the neckline slid further down and my tits popped out, completely. The sight of them in all their voluptuous glory with, I realised to my horror, horrendously swollen nipples, distracted him and I got away. "Now stop it," I said trying to walk away and shove my tits back into the clearly totally inadequate vest as I did. He just held me tighter and pulled the front of the vest down again. "Look at you, you slag, your nipples are hard, I bet your cunt is soaked as well. "Fuck off you pervert," I growled, alarmed that quite possibly I was wet. I squirmed free, now a little scared. I started to run; my plan was to go to my bedroom and lock it. But he grabbed me by the waist with one hand and the hair with the other. I struggled and got near to the foot of the stairs with him still holding me. I thought I would get away, but I was wrong, for I slipped and fell to the ground on my front. He tumbled with me pulling my hair quite hard and gripping my bum with his other hand. "Let me go," I moaned feeling trapped. "No," he said squeezing my bum. "Matt this is madness." "You keep saying that," he snarled yanking my hair and taking hold of the waistband of the shorts. "It wasn't madness on the patio or in your bed was it or when I took all those photos of you." "That was different." "No it wasn't." "It was, now let me go," I said wriggling to get away. "Shut up," he said pulling hard on my hair. "You struggle any more and I'll pull your fucking hair out by the roots." He gave it another strong yank to emphasise the point. That made me cry out in pain. At the same time he pulled my shorts half-way down my thighs. "Stop it, right now." "Why, if I don't you gonna tell the police are you?" "Don't be daft, no of course not." "Right of course you can't," he said sliding his hand between my thighs. "You can't tell anyone can you, not them, your precious fucking daughter or anyone, can you? Not with all this fucking evidence," He said referring to the all the photos. He wiggled his hand so that he got his fingers onto my lips and pulled hard on my hair again. "Can you .....slut. My slut?" That realisation hit me strongly. It made me start to cry. "And that is why you are going to let me fuck you again isn't it?" He said trying to prise my legs apart. He got his knee inside mine and pushed one leg with that and pulled the other with his hand. I couldn't stop them opening, he was just too strong. The shorts were drawn tightly round my legs at the knees and they prevented him pushing my legs completely open. "Matt, this is rape. Stop." "It isn't rape, you want it really," he said pushing me half on to my side. The neck of the vest was now caught under my boobs almost supporting them. He took hold of my nipple and pinched it hard. That made me yelp. "See look at your fucking nipples, they're like rocks. What's that all about?" "I don't know," I whimpered as he squeezed and pinched them. He still had his knee pushing my right leg open, but he was now almost lying on my back. His cock was pressed securely against the back of my left, upper thigh and the left cheek of my bum. I was helpless. I felt his hand between my legs, his fingers were fumbling at my lips. "You dirty fucking bitch," he snarled pulling my hair and shoving what must have been three fingers in me. "Don't," I moaned knowing full well what he was going to say next. But he surprised me by saying nothing. Instead, I felt his full weight on me, his chest on my back. His stomach on my buttocks, his legs against mine, his cock on my bum. I started to struggle again, for oddly I had forgotten to do that for a while. Why? I had no idea. "Get off, you sod," I mumbled, wriggling my bum and trying to close my legs as I lay there on the silk Persian rug, which Kevin and I had paid five thousand ponds for, nearly ten years ago. Despite the desperation and the humiliation of my position, lying on my front, my legs wide open, I couldn't help, completely incongruously thinking, how smooth the silk carpet was. Being so expensive I had never had sex on it, but it did strike me as being a perfect place to make love, not one though to be raped. The pain was awful as he pulled my hair very hard and dug his fingernails into the soft flesh on the side of my left breast, which was squashed against the floor. Holding my left tit, sticking his fingernails into the flesh on the side and pulling my hair so that my neck was bent and my head was held up off the floor he wiggled himself downwards a little. Down so that he was lying completely between my legs, down so that his cock slid off my bum. Down so that it was also between my legs and down so that he was able to press its bulbous head right on my lips. He moved his hand from my breast and I thought I might have a chance of escaping, but his hold on my hair was too tight; any movement of mine was met by a yank from him, which did feel as if the hair might come out by the roots. I couldn't move, I couldn't escape I could do nothing but groan with frustration as unhindered he slid the head of his cock between my lips. "No, no Matt, stop," I said. "Shut up," he said. "You know you want it." He suddenly pressed his finger right against my anus. Not in it, not yet, but on it, right on where he knew I got most sensation. He wiggled it, he probed around the entrance, he opened it bit, anally caressing me with surprising gentleness. I realised that he had wetted his finger with my female excretions. As he did that with the bulbous knob of his cock snug between my lips, I had the traumatic experience of feeling my hips moving, they were pumping slightly. My body was going out of control, it was out of sync with my mind, my need for sexual pleasure was overcoming my desire to control my destiny. I realised I wanted to be fucked. The Power of Force and Pain He must have picked up my signals or something; maybe I relaxed my bottom, thighs and pussy. For in one movement his cock slid deeply into me as his finger entered my anus. "Oh God," I groaned. I knew that was part out of desperation and disappointment at 'letting' him. That it was part out of frustration at not being strong enough to resist and at letting my womanly physical needs outweigh my emotional restraints. But, I had to admit that the groan was largely due to the enormous rush of sexual pleasure I received from having my cunt and arse fucked at the same time. Chapter 4 Of course I didn't end it. Matt gave me all the photos and swore he had no other copies. Oddly, I believed him, for in most ways he was an honourable and truthful man. It was just with sex where he went a little out of kilter. But then if he did, what was I doing? What was I doing walking around with severe red marks on my breasts and bruises on my thighs and the cheeks of bum? What was I doing, sporting his, or were they our, trophy marks? What was I doing letting him hurt me, control me, give me pain and force himself on me? What was I doing letting him 'near rape' me? What was I doing 'enjoying' being dominated, abused, demeaned and hurt? What was I doing, fuck knows, for I didn't? It was a hugely difficult time for me. I felt terrible about what I let him do to me. I had enormous guilt trips after I got home from a date. I had so much remorse about letting him pinch, squeeze, bite, suck, pull my hair and hit me. I had more remorse about continually going back for further pain, force and abuse and even more, because I was, I realised, enjoying what he did to me; I seemed to welcome those advances and despite my mind telling me to stop, my body forced me to want to go further. 'Where will it all end?' I often wondered. Chapter 5 "Uncover your tits," came up in the little window on the screen. "I can't Sara is here," I typed back. "Where in the apartment is she?" Matt typed. "In her room." "You would hear if she opened the door wouldn't you?" "Yes." "Well get your tits out then." "I might not have time to get them away." "So?" "Matt you promised that whatever happens, you would never involve her." "Yes sorry Mands, I was getting excited, getting carried away." "lol, I know, so was I?" "Would you like to uncover your tits for me M?" "You know I would." "Lovely, are they marked?" "Yes, they have big red marks on the undersides on both boobs and less fierce ones on the tops." "I wish I could see them, it's been ages." "Well if you have to go away on a training course." "You know it can't be helped." "Yes, of course I do, when will you be back?" "Wednesday, can I see you?" "What time?" "I have the day and night off, can you get away?" "All night?" "Yes, if possible I want to fuck you all night." "Sounds wonderful," I replied truthfully. "Yes I have some ideas that I think you will like. I have some plans" "What are they?" I asked, my curiosity aroused. "You'll see if you make it on Wednesday. And you had better make it or I will have to especially punish you, won't I?" "Yes," I whimpered, hating myself for agreeing as I felt both the chill of fear and the heat of sexual excitement go through me. "You like me punishing you, don't you, slut?" "Yes," I said, even more quietly. "Feel your nipples." "Ok." "Are they hard?" "Yes Matt, very." "Then get your tits, no sorry, I was forgetting Sara," Matt said, once more confusing me, as he often did, with the combination of his dark and light sides. "Can you hold a moment?" "Yes, of course." "I'm back." "Where did you go?" "My bedroom and Sara's?" "Why, what did you do?" "I told her I was going to have shower, the waters difficult if we both have one at the same time so we always tell each other." "Is she in bed?" "Yes watching Big Brother, bloody show." "So?" He asked, meaningfully. "I got ready for my shower." "So what are you wearing?" "That blue, silk robe." "And?" "Nail varnish and a smile." "Bra?" "No." "Panties." "No." "Good." "And Matt, I have got my tits out." "Take some photos on your phone. I want to see the marks." "Hold on, let me go to the bathroom." "Well?" "Great, I love the tits and the marks are fantastic, you got any anywhere else?" "Not really, the ones on my thighs have nearly gone." "How much longer will they last on your tits?" "Two three days and they'll be gone." "Well we'll have to do something about that on Wednesday, won't we?" "Oh, Matt, why do I do this?" "Because you love it, because you're my slut. You are aren't you?" "Yes," I whispered. "And you want me to hurt you and mark you don't you, for that's what sluts like Mandy and you are a fucking slut, the like of which I have never met before." "Ohhhhhh." I Sighed. "And what makes you an even bigger slut Mandy is that I am going to make you cum right here and now with your precious, little fucking daughter upstairs in bed aren't I?" "Yes Matt, you are." I said my emotions responding to his control, my body reacting to his words as my hand parted the folds of the robe and slid between my eagerly opening thighs. Chapter 6. "Mmmmm well done," Matt said, looking me up and down as I removed the long coat. "Exactly as I asked." "Yes," I replied, noting he was wearing the black, silky, but not silk, shorty, dressing gown he had taken to being in when I went to his small flat in Blackheath Village, quite near the station. I had parked my car in the lane that runs up the side of the hospital; there were no restrictions there, which was convenient for I parked it at four pm knowing it might be there until the next morning. As I had walked the few hundred yards to his flat, I kept my coat tightly around me, covering me from neck to mid-calf. As part of his 'plans' for our Wednesday, he had explained how he wanted me to dress. I found stimulation in being told that and I gained an even greater one getting ready. I had, as instructed put my hair into bunches. It was like two frizzy ponytails, one each side of my head poking out and falling down the sides at roughly four and eight o'clock. The hair between them was in its normal dishevelled and curly state with some big locks falling over my forehead. Matt had sent me about a photo he'd got from the web with the style and I had to admit, he had a good eye. There was a touch of youth about the style, something that a forty three year old oversized breasted woman is not normally associated with,. He had sent me a blouse by mail that he had bought from somewhere. It was white cotton, low quality and thus fairly see-through when stretched. As it was probably a size or so too small for me, it certainly was stretched in places; across my breasts and round my stomach, and thus, slightly see-through. The shadows of my areola were evident and hints of my, not yet swollen nipples, were clear. When it arrived, I was wearing just a dressing gown, having just showered. I slipped that off, put the blouse on and looked at my near naked form in the mirror. Then, what were now hints, were massive, full on exclamations as my nipples rose to their full erection. I knew that would happen soon, now I was with Matt. The blouse had buttons all the way up the front, three of which on his instruction were left undone. As I was not wearing a bra, my cleavage was wide rather than deep, for my breasts, lacking the support their DD size now requires, sagged a little and flopped to the sides. When I moved they wiggled and jiggled quite alarmingly. I knew he would like that. I had managed to find something akin to what he had described as 'a skirt that looks like a schoolgirl's." It was quite thin, just above knee level and loose, but not flared, just a simple, straight skirt of the fashion that I had worn at school. It was made from a thin, charcoal grey wool. He hadn't specified what I should wear under it, so I wore dark blue hosiery and panties. I had mid-size heeled court shoes with a strap and buckle. "Wine or vodka?" He asked knowing they were my drinks. He wasn't as bright and bubbly as usual. He seemed on edge, tense and taught and he was terse when he spoke. That worried me as to what his plans were. "I don't mind thanks Matt. Is everything alright?" "Yes, of course, why shouldn't it be?" "I don't know, you just seem a little on edge." Lifting the bottle of Stolly he poured fairly large slugs into two, tall thin glasses and smiled. "Probably excited about today, you'd better have vodka." "Why?" I asked taking the vodka and walking over to the tiny kitchen area in the corner. I topped it up with water and opened the freezer for ice. When alone like this and when building up to one of our 'special' sessions that we still didn't talk about after, he nearly always made me do things like that myself. This was in complete contrast to when we were in restaurants or other places, when he was 'the perfect gentleman! It was almost as if he was getting into a role to abuse and hurt me, I thought my heart beating slightly faster at the idea; fear or excitement, I wondered. "My plans." "Well come on," I said sipping the vodka as I sat down on the arm of settee. "Gonna explain." "You'll see, soon, how are you." "Fine, Matt and you, how was the course?" "Boring as hell, but had some good times in the evenings." "What sort of good times?" "Oh mostly in the bar of the training centre, but in the town a couple of nights." "Really? And what happened?" "What do you think happened on a Friday night in Newcastle with a load of horny cops?" "I have no idea," I replied, probably a little frostily. "Use your imagination, Mandy. Newcastle is known for its easy crumpet." "I see." "You don't." "Ok, I don't" "Wanna know?" "Not especially," I lied feeling ridiculously jealous. "Ok, all I'll say then was she fucking good in bed." "Really?" I replied trying to sound nonplussed and disinterested. "Yes, totally uninhibited." "Oh great," I mumbled taking a slightly larger sip of the vodka and water than I had intended. "Yeah two of us, my Sergeant and me pulled in a bar. Want to know the sordid, oh fuck who's that?" He said sounding surprised at the ring of the bell. "You'd better find out," I replied standing up and turning my back on the door, hiding the show of my breasts. I was amazed and shocked when just a second or so later he said. "Here she is Trev, this is Mandy." With my arms crossed over my boobs, I turned. "And this Mandy, is my sergeant, Trevor." "Hi Mandy," he said putting his hand out. I had no alternative but to shake his it as he said, looking straight at the wobbling display of bare breasts. "Matt has told me all about you and I am very pleased to meet you." "And you," I replied almost struggling to get my hand out of his. "Drink Trev?" Matt infuriatingly asked him as I re-crossed my arms. "Yeah, give some of that Scotch you got from Gibbsy." "Mandy, pour Trev the Scotch, it's in the bottom of that cupboard," he said nodding at a large cupboard in the little kitchen area. I nearly told him to fuck off and do it himself, but something stopped me. I was very surprised to see three cases of Johnny Walker Black and three Stolly in the bottom of the cupboard. "Perk of the job Mandy," Trev said when I stood up by the cupboard with a bottle in my hand. He was standing right beside, very close, too close really. I moved away and reached up for a glass, acutely aware of his gaze on my chest as the thin, cheap cotton was stretched across my boobs. "Very nice," he said. I looked at him sharply as I brought my hand down with the glass. "Black label I meant, one of the best there is," he said with a broad grin. I handed him the glass and bottle and went to move away. "I said pour him a drink Many," Matt said, unusually sharply for him." Trev just stared at me. He was only my height, which seemed short to me for a policeman and he was clearly overweight, probably being around one ninety pounds. He wasn't a totally unattractive man, but one would be hard pushed to call him good looking. He had a shaved head, which though quite fashionable didn't quite go with his age that I put around fifty. "Just a touch of water Mandy, please," he said, the leering smile on his face as he witnessed my conflict between being polite and telling them both to bugger off. Or, had Matt told him about the way that he had started controlling and dominating me, I wondered? "Oh shit, forgot to get any fags," he suddenly announced after taking a gulp of the Scotch and water. "Be right back," he went on finishing the drink and adding as he walked to the door. "Same again please Mandy when I get back." "What the hell's going on Matt?" I asked. "Nothing." "What's he doing here?" "He's a mate as well as my boss." "So, why's he here?" "He just pops in now and then?" I stopped grilling him when he said. "Look Mandy why don't you just leave it, we'll have a few drinks and that's it. Just relax, that'll make it better later." "Later?" "Yes when we put my plan into action." He said rather tightly. Matt got hold of my hand and pressed it against the silky material of the dressing. He was hard. "See it's making me hard just thinking about it. Like it?" It was a nice feeling. Momentarily I forgot about Trev as Matt ran his fingertips over my nipples making them almost instantly stand up. "Why didn't you tell him I was here?" I asked softly feeling tender towards him as he cupped my breast and I slid my hand inside the gown and took hold of his cock. "I did, that's why he came, he wanted to meet you." "Oh ok, fine," I replied not at all sure what that meant, but it was too late for he was back ringing the bell. "Want one Matt?" He asked offering him the pack of Marlboro reds. "No thanks Trev, later maybe." Trev lit up, not offering me the packet or even asking if I minded, which incidentally I didn't, but custom nowadays usually dictates the courtesy. "So mate, how are things?" He said to Trevor. "Great and you?" "Pretty nifty," he replied suddenly turning and looking at me. "Be even better if I had that fucking drink, Mandy." Matt joined in. "He did ask before he went, why didn't you do it as I told you?" I almost said because I was stroking your cock, but thought better of it. Instead, I didn't bother to reply, but picked up Trev's glass and walked to the kitchen. Just as I got there, I heard Trev's voice. "You let her get away with that Matt?" "What?" Matt replied. "Not asking if you want one?" "Shit yes, what's the matter with you Mandy, where's your fucking manners?" Matt's heavy, stern voice asked me. I turned and saw then standing close together staring at me. Matt's erection was quite evident under his gown. Trev must have noticed I thought. "Sorry," I replied. "So you should be, come and get my glass," Matt ordered, even though he was standing no more than eight feet or so from the kitchen. I walked back to him and he handed me his glass. I went to pick mine up. "Not yet young lady," Trev said. "Do ours first, then Matt may let you have some. Mayn't you officer?" "Yes Sarge, I may." "This was getting weird. There was a chill in the room. Matt was stern and fierce whereas Trev was mocking and teasing. They were both clearly enjoying themselves at my discomfort, but then in a perverse and totally incomprehensible way, so was I. I just didn't get it. I had just got to the kitchen when I heard Trev say. "Must have a pee." As he left the room, Matt said. "Forget the drinks for the moment, just come here." I had poured them so I put the glasses down on the only work surface in the alcove that formed the kitchen and turned and went back to where he was standing. "What do you think of Trev?" He asked. "Nothing, why?" "What do you mean nothing, you must think something." "He's ok, why?" "Just asking," Matt said taking me into his arms and pressing his erection against me. "Like that?" "Mmmm," I murmured back squirming against it. "Nice." "Want it?" He asked pulling me tightly to him "Always," I said using one of our little personal jokes that had developed through the photography. "Then you can have it right now can't you, you slut," I heard from Trev behind me. I went to look over my shoulder, but Matt turned me so I was facing Trev. He was naked. "What the hell's going on?" I said sharply as Matt wrapped his arms round me from behind. "You'll see," he said as I stared in disbelief at Trev. It wasn't just the fact that he was naked, it was also that he was half erect and had quite a large dick; the thought, 'hung like a donkey,' ridiculously came to mind. Matt was not now holding me, he was restricting me. I couldn't get away. He went on. "I asked you what you think of Trev didn't I?" "Yes, yes you did," I said rather warily feeling Matt's erection pushing against my bum and seeing Trev walk to the kitchen and get his and Matt's drinks, but not mine. He had a squat, rather hairy body with no real curves. It was almost square and seemed to be dominated by the sizeable phallus which rather reminded me of the periscope on a submarine. As he walked back with their drinks so his erection grew. It wasn't that he had a particularly long cock that caught my attention, it was its thickness. The thought of that in me made me shudder, but I didn't know whether that was with, fear or excitement? "So what do you think now?" Matt asked as I struggled to escape. "Let me go this is daft." "That's what you said last time isn't it?" He asked. "What?" "That it was daft and I was insane and then you grovelled as I fucked you on the floor of your flat, didn't I slut." "No Matt, that was different." "How?" "You know," I muttered. "No I don't, tell me." "It was us Matt, just the two of us, now come on let me go," I nearly begged trying to pull away. "No. I'll decide when to let you go. So what do you think?" He asked. "About what?" "My mate and boss, Trev." "He's fine," I said as diplomatically as I could. Trev. was standing a few feet away, completely, rampantly and seemingly totally unselfconsciously, naked, sipping his Scotch and smiling, more leering really, at me. I looked down and saw why. My nipples were as hard as pebbles and clearly on view through the thin material. "How fine?" "What do you mean, how fine?" I asked. "Fine enough to fuck is he?" "What do you mean?" "I mean," Matt said putting his arms inside mine and grabbing both of my tits. "Is he fine enough for you to fuck him?" "Matt, no, no," I cried the realisation of what he had planned hitting me. "Don't say, no, no, slut, you do as I say and I say yes, yes." " Please don't Matt, please, please," I begged as Trev move towards me. "We're mates Mandy and mates share," Matt said sliding his arms up, round the front of my shoulders and behind my neck, taking me into some form of police hold, I thought. It was impossible for me to escape and even quite hard to make any meaningful struggle. What's more, though, was that by being in this complicated hold, my arms were pulled away from my sides and held rigid by his, I had no control over them. "Yes Mandy," Trev said leeringly running his gaze up and down my body. "Matt and I share everything, including the booze and that old slapper the other night in Newcastle." As he put his hand out towards me and as I tried, pitifully, to escape so Matt continued. "And including you Mandy, I have said that he can fuck you if he wants, is that ok?" The Power of Force and Pain It was out, his plan was on the table, I was the plan, and Trev was going to fuck me as Matt looked on. "No, no, don't," I groaned as I helplessly watched Trev's hands move towards me. "Stop, don't." "Shut up Mandy, you're my slut, you know that and sluts do as their master tells them." "Not this Matt, please, not this," I moaned as Trev ran his hands over my breasts, squeezing and pressing the soft flesh. "Why, what's wrong with him?" Matt asked. "Nothing." "Then let him fuck you, slag." "No, I can't, I just can't. Stop Trev please." I was whining as his hands squeezed harder. "Don't you like your tits played with, most tarts do," Trev said, scooping each mound and pushing them together. "Well slut, don't you?" "Answer the sergeant Mandy, he is the boss." "Yes," I mewed quietly. "Well then you'll like this won't you?" Trev asked pulling the tail of the blouse out of the skirt and sliding his hands inside right on to my bare flesh. "Stop, stop please stop," I whined as Matt pulled my shoulders back with his arms and pushed my head forward with his hands. It hurt and I cried out with pain. At the same time Trev took hold of both my nipples and pinched them hard. The pain in my shoulder moulded with that in my nipples. I nearly screamed. "Fuckingwell shut up and be nice to my boss, Mandy. I have told him you're my slut and he can do what he wants to you, that's what sluts are for, so shut up moaning, don't make a fool of me and let Trev do what he wants to you." I could hardly believe what was happening. The man I had been having an affair with was 'giving' me to someone else, just like a slave. I felt demeaned, abused and dirty. I had let Matt take me this far, I had gone further than I had ever dreamed I would, I was sliding rapidly down the ladder of degradation. "No, I can't." "I told you to shut up. Now don't say another word if you know what's good for you. Keep your mouth shut and let him get your tits out and then he's going to fuck you." "Oh Matt," I pleaded, before I did scream with pain when both of them took hold of my hair and pulled the two bunches, Matt forced my head down so my chin was flat against my chest and Trev pinched and pulled my nipples. "I fucking told you," Matt growled pulling harder on my hair and suddenly without warning biting the back of my neck. This was awful. It was worse, far worse than anything Matt had done to me before or even anything I had imagined he might do in the future. I really was scared now. "Alright if I get the slut's tits out Trev." "Course it's alright mate." "No," I groaned my body jerking as Matt bit me harder, pushed my head further forward and pulled my hair harder. "I take it that it's ok then?" Trev asked just as if he was asking for agreement on something trivial, not baring my tits then fucking me, a total stranger. But then he wasn't going to fuck me was he, he was going to rape me! "No, please no," I groaned, my resolve to fight reducing every time I said anything and both of them hurt me. "I told you to shut the fuck up," Matt, my supposed partner, growled giving me another strong shot of pain by yanking my hair. "Do as he says slut," Trev said grabbing hold of my chin and jerking my head up. "Look at me, look at my cock, look at the cock that I am gonna shove up you and fuck you rigid." I stayed still not looking at anything really. Smack. I think I heard the sound before the pain and before I realised he had slapped my face. "You bastard," I spat out. That just brought on a torrent of abuse from both of them, another face smack from Trev and Matt's teeth digging into the soft flesh on my shoulder. "Shut up cunt," Trev said. "Let me see your tits, those big fat tits I've been touching. There was nothing I could do and I didn't dare say anything as he took hold of the lapels of the blouse the back of his fingernails brushing against the top of my breasts. Looking me right in the eye he said. "If you won't get yer tits out I will," and with one big yank he ripped the front of the blouse undone. It tore and ripped and a couple of buttons flew off, uncovering me right down my front. I squirmed against Matt trying to escape or, at least get away from the advancing, naked Trev. It was hopeless. "It's no use struggling, bitch," Trev said. "In any case when you do, your big, flabby tits wobble all over the place. Bit saggy aren't they Matt?" He said. "Yeah," Matt said cupping my right breast and lifting it up. "Ok like this though, wanna suck it?" "No, don't please," I groaned trying to wiggle my boob from Matt's hand." Of course it was impossible. Of course I couldn't get away, of course I couldn't get my breast out of Matt's hand; of course I couldn't, of course I couldn't stop the pair of them doing what they wanted, exactly what they wanted. And that was for Matt to hold my tits as Trev sucked them. And he sucked them, hard. His lips and teeth on the flesh of each of my tits and on my nipples. He sucked, he gave me love bites on the tops of each boob, and he bit and chewed each of my nipples. He hurt me, badly. I yelped and groaned, almost screamed, at the pain and at the indignity of my position. It was hopeless, it was awful. It was so demeaning. Held by one man in a dressing gown, his erection pressing against my bum, as another naked man sucked and chewed my tits which he had bared by ripping my blouse undone. How had I sunk to such depths? How had I come to this? How had the power of the photography that had been so exciting with a man I had met by dropping some photographs on the floor of Starbucks, gravitated to such a situation where I was being dominated by the power of force and pain? Fuck knows I thought as I heard Trev say. "What's the slut's cunt like Matt?" I could hardly believe what I heard. It was so fucking insulting, demeaning, degrading and abusive that I wanted to fight back. But what could I do? It got worse. "Have a look Trev. Have a look at my sluts cunt, she won't mind, will you Mandy?" I didn't reply, but instead, rather ridiculously and clearly futilely, crossed my legs and struggled, wiggling my bottom, which only served to squeeze that against Matt's erection. "Will you Mandy?" Matt asked again, giving my neck a painful jerk forward. I didn't want any more pain so I mumbled "No." "Good, you're learning, at last." I was staring at the naked Trev, taking in his squat, hairy unattractive body and smug, leering face. He revolted me and I felt sick at the image of him shagging me. God this was so out of control, I just wished that Matt and I had worked out a 'stop' word, but we hadn't. I felt Matt, moving his arms and for a moment I thought he might be ending this hell. No such luck of course. No, he was altering his grip so that he held me just as securely, but for some reason he had freed my hands. "OK Mandy," he said, rather thickly right into my ear "Show him." "What? What do you mean?" I asked, momentarily puzzled. "I mean, Mandy, do what sluts do." "Huh? "Sluts show their cunts, so show Trev your cunt, you slag." "How, what do you mean?" I asked rather stupidly, perhaps trying to buy time. "Are you fucking stupid or what?" Trev said, grabbing my right breast and squeezing painfully, his eyes boring into mine showing the delight he was getting from hurting me. I gasped with the pain. "Just lift your skirt up Mandy and show Trev your panties first." I couldn't think of a more degrading thing to be asked to do. To expose my, most private places to the horrible man who, presumably, was later going to fuck me by force; it was a little like the condemned man building his own coffin. But in Matt's tight grip and with Trev standing right in front of there was no alternative, unless I wanted to test just how far they would go with exerting pain on me, and that I didn't want to do. "Mandy?" Matt said in a softer tone. "Yes Matt," I replied, thinking maybe he was going to save me both the likely further pain and, what was now becoming as difficult to take, the additional indignity of exposing myself to the little, naked turd standing leering at me. "I am going to trust you and let you go, so don't try anything or I will rip your fucking hair out. Ok?" "Yes," I muttered, feeling disappointed. "I'm letting you go so you can do a better job for my mate and boss, that's the only reason," Matt said, releasing me. "So promise me you won't do anything stupid, as I don't want to have to do that." "I wouldn't mind," Trev chipped in again grabbing my breast and squeezing that hard. It was an odd sensation to stand there letting a man hurt me by squeezing my naked breast as my lover looked on, but there was no alternative. Trev stared right into my eyes as he said. "So come on Mandy, show us your cunt, lift your skirt up." I was resigned to what I had to do. Not happy or even excited come to that, for I found Trev revolting. Momentarily, as I reached down towards the hem of my skirt, I wondered how I would be feeling if Matt had chosen a twenty-something year old Adonis? But he hadn't and so I was being abused and demeaned to unimaginable levels in front of the despicable Trev, even his fucking stupid name annoyed me. Matt moved round in front of me and joined his friend staring at me. "Come on give us a show," he said as I rested my hands firmly, my fingers pointing downwards on the grey wool skirt midway between my hips and knees. Slowly, more slowly than I intended I inched it upwards. Up from my knees, along that big muscle, onto my thighs until I knew, from the expression on their faces I was exposing the lacy stocking tops of the blue holdups. I edged it further, showing that delicious looking patch of skin above my stocking tops. It went further revealing the bottom of the blue, lace thong I was wearing and then the entire thong. "Fucking hell, Matt look at those sluts' stockings, what a fucking slag she is. Look at the thong. You get off wearing this stuff?" Trev asked as his cock reared up his stomach again from the semi-erect it had slipped into. When I didn't reply he asked again. "Well do you?" "I wore it for Matt; he likes me wearing sexy stuff." "Does he now? He asked moving close to me. "And do you like wearing it too?" Looking into his eyes in the hope I could somehow call on his better nature, I asked. "Do you like it Trev?" "I didn't ask you to ask that, I asked if you like wearing it. Do you." "Yes," I mumbled. "Does it make you feel good?" "Sometimes." "Make you feel sexy does it?" "Yes, sometimes," I whispered as I saw his hand moving towards me. "How about now?" He asked. "What do you mean?" I replied trying to buy time as I felt his hand on my panties just above my pubes. "You know what I fuckingwell mean, you fat tart," he said, the fierceness returning to his voice as, without further, ado he pushed his hand down and between my legs, right onto my lips. "You fucking slut," he said running his fingers along them as I went to move away. However, seeing the threat in Matt's eyes stopped me, so I stood there and let Trev leave his hand inside my panties as he played with my pussy."Your cunt's wet, isn't it?" "Is it? I don't know." "Look," he said putting his finger in front of my face. It was glistening. He pressed it against my closed lips. "Lick your cum juice you slut." As I did I heard him saying. "Methinks the slut is beginning to enjoy this Matt, look at her fucking nipples." I couldn't believe that those bastards had so let me down again. I looked at them; they were like fucking organ stops. "Have I excited you, have I got you going?" Trev asked, wiggling his finger along the crease of my pussy. "Well, have I?" He asked taking one of my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. "Speak to me, you bitch," he said looking into my eyes as he pinched harder. I looked back determined not to show that he was hurting me. He pinched harder. I didn't flinch or move. The pain in my nipple, as he accompanied the pinching with twisting it, was bad, but I didn't move or show anything. We stared at each other in a bizarre sort of Mexican stand-off. He had a slight grin on his face, but I thought I would be able to outlast him, for the pain was bearable. But when, suddenly, he shoved, what must have been three or four finger, right up me, I couldn't avoid gasping and crying out loud. "Like that do you?" He asked I didn't reply as he continued pinching and twisting my nipple and started pumping his fingers up and down me. "Well do you?" It was the final indignity, well so far. It was the ultimate degradation. I felt dirty, spoiled, ashamed and full of guilt as I felt myself moving in tune with his hand. "Well?" He said shoving his fingers in me as far as he could get them and holding them there like a surrogate cock. Surrogate it may have been, but my basest female instincts took over and I started to work it, I commenced using it yes, I began to fuck the surrogate cock that Trev was providing. "Mandy, I won't ask again and I'll tear your fucking nipple off. Do you like it?" Tears running down my cheeks I mumbled, full of shame and total degradation. "Yes Trev I do." Chapter 7 I had sort of assumed that they would fuck me together. Maybe one in my bum, which I don't like, but can endure, and the other in my pussy, or one in that and the other in my mouth or between my tits. But, they didn't. It was almost as if they didn't want to get too near to each other, as if they were scared of the other's nakedness for I noticed they took great care not to touch each other. Male macho, typical cop culture I thought. After admitting that I did like it, he almost, but not quite made me cum. I think had he have not removed the surrogate cock I would have done. And that would have been most demeaning. But that was saved for later. Trev took his fingers out of me. "Get us some drinks," he ordered handing me his glass. The skirt bunched round my waist, the blouse open and the thong pulled down I did as I was told. "Go and make some sandwiches," Matt said, adding. "And don't try escaping the door is locked. I went to smooth my skirt down, but as I did Trev grabbed hold of the waistband of my thong. "Leave it up and take this fucking thing off, I told you I want to see your cunt. Get the sandwiches first though. Obediently, I went and made them both tuna and cucumber sandwiches. They were sitting on the sofa when I returned. I had felt rather foolish, but also other things that I couldn't quite put my finger on, as I had made the drinks and sandwiches and served them to them dressed like that I handed them the plates, feeling a bit like a bunny girl as I bent forward. I felt even more like one as Matt fondled my tits and Trev groped my bum. "Ok Mandy, get your knickers off, Trev wants to see your cunt. It actually aint bad mate." Matt said as if discussing a pot plant or something. "Stand there with your back to the table," he went on nodding at where I was to stand. I stood before them my hands at my side in a position of supplication. I waited for my orders. I realised that I felt differently to earlier. I felt more relaxed, almost at peace with myself. I guess I was resigned to what had been happening, what was happening and what was surely about to happen. What that might be longer term that evening I didn't know. What that meant right now, though, was that I was going to remove my knickers and show Matt and Trev my cunt. And, most oddly that, far from phasing or scaring me, was beginning to excite me, fuck it! "Ok then Mandy, fucking well get on with it," Trev said. He looked incongruous sitting down with his hard on sticking up from his paunch tummy. It seemed hard to think of him as the man who had been given me such pain for the past half hour or. It was even harder to think of him being the man who had nearly made me cum with that surrogate cock! I shimmied my panties down my legs revealing my pubic patch to both of them and then I stood there for a moment or two. It must have been some scene. My torn blouse with most of the buttons missing hanging down over my bare tits. One side was caught on a nipple which, frustratingly was still extended and hard, the other was somehow tucked round the side of my boob, thus revealing all of it. My grey, wool skirt was bunched round my waist and I was wearing the blue lacy top holdups. In any other setting I would have felt sexy and erotic. In this, though, with the red marks all over my boobs and probably the back of my neck as well I felt different. But then it was different, there were two perverted bastards staring at me, one completely naked, the other wearing just a dressing gown. And they were leering at me. They stood up and walked over to me. As if rehearsed, they both grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed them. "Right slut, its cunt inspection time," Matt said. "Get on the table." I sat on the edge of it, my legs together. "How the fuck we going to inspect your cunt like that, stoopid," Trev said. "Get further on the table and lay down. I did as he asked. Matt went round the table, behind me out of my view. Suddenly I felt him place something on my eyes. 'Fuck he's blindfolding me,' I thought. He was, but that wasn't the end of it either. Suddenly and quickly both of them grabbed my legs and arms, pulled them across the table, slipped rope round them and tied my wrists and ankles. My arms were pulled nearly straight above my head, my legs were wide open. "No, stop, please," I moaned only to feel a hard slap on my breast. "Just shut up Mandy and everything will be ok," Matt said. "Keep on and I'll punch you right on your cunt," Trev added. I really was very scared now. I felt so terribly vulnerable. With my arms as they were, my breasts were completely exposed and with my tied legs spread as wide open as they could go; my most womanly place was open and totally revealed to them so they could do whatever they wished with it. "Bit big ennit Matt?" "Dunno, she takes me ok." "Is it saggy, been used too much?" Trev asked as one of their sets of fingers ran round the edge of my lips. "No surprisingly tight," Matt graciously replied. I could feel that they were both staring at me there; in fact I could feel their hot breath on my open thighs. "Do you want to have her now?" I heard Matt, so disappointedly asking him. "No not yet, I wanna play some other games first." He replied to my consternation, for I wasn't quite sure that I would not have rather got it over and done with. "What games?" I couldn't help blurting out. The sharp slap on my breast really hurt and made that one wobble and slap against the other. They seemed to like seeing that. "Floppy fuckers aren't they Matt?" Trev said giving the outsides of each breast softer smacks. He, or maybe Matt or possibly both of them, then got hold of each breast and shook them so that they slapped together. At the same time fingers were probing and stroking all round my lips, between my legs and towards my anus. I was receiving differing sensations all over my body for they would stop the breast shaking and run those hands over my chest, my face and arms and then into my hair, pulling and yanking that. They were pinching and squeezing me everywhere. My breasts were aflame with pain. My nipples were screaming at the ache from the constant pinching and pulling. Then they started down below. Not as I had imagined they would by sucking or fingering me. No that was too ordinary, too normal and too tender for them. They started flicking their fingers against my lips. The fiddled around in the folds of skin at the front of my vagina and unfurled the hood that covered my clit. They exposed it, holding the curled 'petals' away as they and flicked it with their fingers and pinched and pulled the gristly stalk. The Power of Force and Pain I was now in a terrible state. Bound and blindfolded, my arms stretched up above my head, my legs pulled apart, my tits so exposed and my pussy open and available, I had lost the fight. I had probably also lost the will, the slim inhibitions I may have had, any slight control that existed when I could see and wasn't restricted and, mostly, my dignity. None of that was left. How could it be when I was bound to a table wearing just a ripped and torn, cheap, cotton blouse with my 'schoolgirl' skirt bunched round my waist? How could I retain any of that wearing my hold up stockings, my legs spread wide my tits and pussy exposed to the two policeman's leering lascivious gazes? How could I retain any, in fact how I could have any when I had 'let' them hurt me, undress me, squeeze, pinch, pull, suck and bite my flesh, leaving vicious, red marks all over me? How could I when I had been fingered and sucked my a total stranger? How could I have any dignity when I had responded so obviously, almost enthusiastically to Trev's surrogate cock? But most of all, how could I have even a scrap of dignity when I was starting to cum as they flicked at my clitoris and pinched my tits and nipples so hard. I knew that really was the behaviour of a complete slut. Suddenly I had a rush of hope. One of them was undoing the ropes on my legs. It was obviously Matt, for Trev said. "That's right get them undone." It was quite a relief to feel the tightness of the ropes round my ankles released, I hadn't realised just how much they hurt until they were undone, but then I had been receiving far more and different pain to what they were causing. I saw then, that by having a more extreme pain the lesser ones fade into the background, an interesting observation, I thought as my hopes of release were shattered. "It'll be best if we hold them like this," Trev said as one of them pulled both of my ankles upwards as the other roughly pulled my skirt off. He continued pulling until I was bent at ninety degrees at the hips. My legs were up in the air. He, or maybe they, then bent me at the knees so that the front of my legs was pressed against my breasts. "Oh no," I couldn't stop myself saying as I felt the ropes being wrapped round me again. "Shut the fuck up," Matt said as one of them pulled my right nipple very hard and, presumably, the other, who I guessed was Trev, slapped me across the back of my thighs catching the lips of my pussy. Both hurt like hell. "Sorry," I whimpered as the ropes were tightened. It was hard to know precisely what they were doing and just how the thin, quite smooth, several ply, almost white rope was wrapped round me. It felt as though they had looped it round each leg just above my knees and tied it there. From there it went right round my body. They had pulled it tight just beneath, thankfully not across, each breast and round my back. I couldn't work out much of the rest of where it went, but it was curled back across my chest just above my boobs, well actually slightly on the swell of each one. Another rope was tied round both my ankles and that was pulled tight so that my legs were straight, my feet pointing towards the ceiling. They secured both ropes somewhere, for when they stopped the tying, I couldn't move. "There that's what you do with sluts Matt, hogtie them, the fucking bitch can't get out of that, come on let's have a drink." "No, please don't leave me," I begged thinking they were going out. Of course I was punished for speaking and they both, I think, slapped the back of my thighs, my bum, my pussy lips and my tits. It hurt, my flesh was stinging, but somehow, someway, it was becoming more bearable. From my breasts to my clit I could feel heat. A sort and level I had never experienced before. That was accompanied by a tingling all over my body. I couldn't understand quite what the feelings were, but then I had never experienced anything like them before. They fortunately didn't go out and I heard them talking, about work for fuck's sake as they sat on the sofa. My situation was as hopeless as my position was demeaning. I had gone too far in letting Matt take me down the path of pain and force. A hidden side of him had emerged, which was too extreme for me. Mentally and physically I couldn't handle this degree of pain, force and humiliation. It was just emotionally too draining and bodily it hurt me too much. I vowed never to get involved in the like again. That is if I got out of this ok. And this, of course, really was a dire, hopeless and simply totally degrading situation. Still with the blouse around my arms and my lacy-topped holdups in place I was on my back trussed up. I had ropes securing me and cutting into my flesh. My breasts were bare and my bum was just on the edge of the table, I knew that my vagina and my anus were totally exposed and readily available. "Ok, let's do her, ready mate?" Trev said. "Yep, my slut needs it. Come on." Chapter 8 One pair of hands grabbed my breasts, another my thighs. Neither were hurting me. Those on my boobs were caressing and squeezing, quite pleasantly I suddenly realised with a feeling of enormous annoyance at the frailty of my bodily resistance to sexual stimulation. Those on my thighs moved round to the front of my legs and gripped me just by my groin where my legs formed a near ninety degree angle to my tummy. One hand left my right leg; the other pulled me, moving me nearer to the edge of the table. I quickly worked out why one of the hands had left me. It was obviously holding the cock which was nuzzling at the lips of my pussy. The hand was moving the cock. It was rubbing the head of it up and down my crease, onto and around my clit then all the way back and between the cheeks of my bum right onto my anal hole. The other hands were rubbing my breasts, pushing them together and pinching and squeezing my flesh. The two pairs of hands changed round, but the new ones continued in the same way. "Is it nice, slut?" Matt or it may have been Trev asked. I didn't reply, I didn't dare and I didn't want to. "You can speak you stupid fucking cow." That was Trev I was sure. "Is it nice, do you like it?" It took all I had to speak, I felt awful, guilty and so ashamed when I whimpered. "Yes." They continued, but were now using their mouths, lips and teeth on me as well. On my tits, my nipples, my neck, my stomach, my thighs, my bum and, of course my lips and clit. I just didn't dare even think of the red marks that would confront me when the blindfold was removed. "Louder," one of them said. "Say it louder." "Yes," I said. "Say more," I was ordered with a slap on my lips and hard pinch on my breast. "Yes, it's nice," I said in a normal voice, absolutely hating myself. Admitting that it was nice was awful, but not as terrible as what was now happening. It can't be real. This just can't be happening. It's impossible, I was telling myself. But I knew I was trying to kid myself for it was real, it was happening. I was becoming aroused. I tried so hard to stop it, counting backwards from one hundred, putting my mind on other things, even thinking of England. None worked. As my breasts were squeezed and pinched, so I could feel little tremors and the heat increased. As again someone's cock was rubbed all over my pussy and bum I started tingling all over my body. Even the stinging, the aches and the pains were changing. They seemed to be fusing with these new feelings. My body was becoming a seething cauldron of sexual arousal and pain, no not pain, warmth, I don't know what the fuck it was, but I was starting to orgasm. I also started to cry. The shame, the guilt, the remorse and the concerns got to me. Their responses, far from now being upsetting seemed to be appropriate for the situation and my mood "Look the fucking slags starting to cum." "You can see her cunt quivering." "See her fucking nipples, they're like bullets." "So slut cunt is it nice?" "Yes," I moaned. "You want more?" "Yes," I moaned again, scared to say no and concerned that I had to say yes. "What do you want slag?" "More." "More what?" "On my pussy" "Don't call it that tarts name," the one who was running his cock all over me said. "Call it by its proper name. It's your cunt, you cunt," Trev said giggling rather drunkenly. "On my cunt," I said enjoying the word slipping from my mouth. "What do you want on your cunt?" I had now had it. I was gone, finished, completed and done in. I had lost every shred of dignity and female respectability, even my pride was now so severely dented as to be as good as non existent. I had become the slut they called me. My entire being lying trussed up on that table as good as naked could focus on just one thing, my own sexual pleasure. "I want a cock," I groaned. "Where do you want a cock?" "I want in me." "Where in you?" "In my cunt, I want a cock up my cunt." "And what do you want that cock to do?" I had now lost it. I was panting, my head was rolling from side to side and I was thrusting with my hips. I was fucking air and cumming in front of these two perverts and I didn't care. A couple of hard slaps made me remember to answer the question. "I want it to fuck me?" "Beg us." "Please, please," I whined pretty much meaning it when I added. "Please fuck me, please make me cum." Oddly. I never found out who fucked me.