4 comments/ 84818 views/ 22 favorites Two Do Ron-Ron By: HippieSlut It's the summer of 1968. I'm 21, just moved to San Francisco, living in the Haight-Ashbury district. My name is Veronica, but I go by Ronnie, or even Ron-Ron. I have a job as a go-go dancer in a popular club called Spark's, and my boyfriend, believe it or not, is an apprentice stockbroker. We met at college three years ago, and moved here together, living in a funky Victorian house, on the top floor. David's tall, handsome and dark-haired, with brilliant blue eyes; I'm a natural blonde, with straight silky hair down to my ass and green eyes and measurements of 36-24-35. We may look "normal," but really we're anything but. We have a spectacular sex life: I once counted seven orgasms in one fuck, and I have never had less than three running. We're a bit into bondage, nothing really kinky: I like to be tied down to our big brass fourposter, and David likes to do the honors of tying me there. I don't dance naked at the club, though my boss has asked me a few times to consider it. Better money, for sure. And I'm thinking about saying yes. I like the idea of strange men looking at me naked, the idea of what they could do to me, that they want to do it to me. We'll see. I haven't mentioned it to David. Tonight we have a friend, Gabe, over for dinner. I've spent the whole afternoon slaving over a hot stove, but David is annoyed about something that happened at his work, and he snaps at me. Much to Gabe's surprise. I flounce into the bedroom in a royal snit, and David follows me. We argue in low voices for a couple of minutes, then he loses patience, grabs me and throws me on the bed. I struggle against him, but he's bigger and taller and stronger, and he soon pins me down the way he always does. It's all part of our usual game. I resist as he reaches up under my tiny miniskirt and begins pulling off my red lace bikini panties, and the skirt soon follows, but we both know I really want it. He pins my arms over my head and rips off my top. I don't usually wear bras, but tonight I have on a red satin push-up number, which he leaves on to barely cover my 36C's. Otherwise I'm completely naked, though David still has his clothes on. He bites and kisses my breasts, above and through the red satin, still pinning me down with his weight, and strokes my smooth shaved pussy, slipping one finger in, then another. Then he pushes my thighs apart and poises his hard cock at the entrance to my wet slit. I try to cry out in protest, but he's got one hand over my mouth, and then he's pushed his way into me, sure and forceful. He's a strong, powerful guy, and if he feels like holding me down to be fucked, he just does it and I can't stop him. I look at him over his muffling hand, and he smiles, knowing I'm really digging it as always, I'm dripping wet and panting like a bitch in heat. My knees draw up either side of him, and we start rocking in our usual rhythm. Within a minute we both come, he pushing into me as hard and deep as he can get and I going rigid and arched under him. Another fantastic orgasm, and the hand over my mouth only makes it better. It's the natural way: man dominates, woman submits. I don't understand these new so-called feminists who regard all sex as crime; women were made to be taken by men, men were built to take them. I'm never happier than when I have a real man on top of me and deep inside me; it's how things are meant to be. In my blind ecstasy as I come, I've completely forgotten about our guest out in the living room, but David hasn't. Still in me, his weight still pinning me down, his hand still over my mouth, he looks at me and calls out, "Hey, Gabe, get in here!" My eyes widen. We've never done anything like this before, and I panic a little, but David thrusts into me sharply, once, reminding me that he's the man and I'm the woman and he's going to do whatever he wants with me. I close my eyes and catch my breath, moaning at the delicious feeling of helplessness that washes over me. Then Gabe is there, his own eyes widening as he sees me there, naked, David still in the saddle, my breasts spilling over the red silk bra cups. "Want some dessert?" asks David. "She's a pretty tasty piece." Judging from the sudden swell in his pants, it's obvious that Gabe indeed wants some. He unzips his fly and comes to the side of the bed. He's a huge man, a surfer and former football player, about six-five and two hundred forty pounds of toned muscle, and my five-six hundred-and-ten pound frame is going to be completely helpless under him. But I can't deny I've fantasized about this for a while: having two handsome guys take turns riding me, each of them watching as the other fucks my brains out. David slips out of me and kneels behind my head, holding my arms pinned straight back. I try to struggle free, but Gabe is on me now, kneeling across my legs, running his hands over me, pushing my thighs open, fingering my slit. He rips the bra off me, grinning, then mounts me and enters me, in no uncertain terms. "I've wanted to get some of this for a long time," he says to David, and starts slamming into me. I arch my back, panting, delirious at the sensation of a new cock inside me. "Man, she's as tight and wet as a new pair of shoes in the rain." He pulls out, just the tip of his dick at the entrance to my cunt, tantalizing me until I'm begging for it, then thrusting deep inside me. His cock is enormous, long and thick. He starts to go slow, taking his time getting in, enjoying all of me, pulling out and pushing in again, letting me feel every inch of him, making me take all of him. Then he gets down to a urgent, building rhythm of savage thrusts, and I start to scream with pleasure as he makes me come. I'm trembling; no man's ever fucked me like this before, filling me completely, there isn't an inch of me he doesn't totally command. "What next?" asks Gabe, grinning, as he pulls out five minutes later, leaving me gasping for breath, my ribcage heaving and my pussy dripping with his come and my juice. He runs a hand down my body, breasts to inner thighs, and I almost spasm off the bed at his light, possessive touch. "You don't get to use someone like this every day, seems a shame to waste such an opportunity." "I agree. As long as we've got her like this," says David, "why don't we make the most use of her? She's always saying she wants to be taken against her will, you know. So, slut," he says to me, "tonight you're gonna get your wish." He flips me onto my belly and roughly jams my head forward into his lap, forcing his cock into my mouth, while Gabe pulls my arms behind my back and binds my wrists. I feel him putting some lotion on my asshole, his well-lubed fingers dipping inside. Oh no, please, I've never been fucked in the ass before...David's big and thick, but Gabe is huge. I try to fight them, but they're both far too big and strong. I'm just a piece of meat between them, an animal that they can do whatever they want with. I feel Gabe's cock slipping slowly into my virgin asshole, stretching me out, and then he's all the way in, up to his balls. It hurts like hell, then he's past the ring of muscle and deep inside. He starts to thrust against the delicate tissues, gently at first, and David rocks my head on his own dick. I can't believe it: I've got a cock up my ass and another in my mouth. I move back against Gabe's cock and forward to take David's deeper down my throat, getting a rhythm going, my ass in the air, my breasts brushing the sheets, Gabe pulling my arms out behind me, steering me like a plow. "You like this, don't you?" David mutters, as he forces my head into his crotch, so deep I struggle to breathe. "I knew as soon as I saw you that you were just a hot piece of ass, good for nothing but being fucked." They almost pull me apart between them; I'm so dizzy and weak I can hardly move. After they come in me, David blindfolds me and gags me with two silk scarves and flips me onto my back again. He binds my wrists to the brass headboard and my ankles to the footboard, and then they go out of the bedroom, leaving me alone and spread-eagled for maybe half an hour. I stretch against the bindings, but I can't work free. And I don't really want to: here I am the way I've always fantasized, tied naked to a bed and being used by two powerful men. And loving it! I'm almost asleep when the guys come back into the bedroom and get back to work on me. I wake up pretty fast as they untie my wrists and ankles, and one of them knots a piece of the rope around my neck to control me. They pull on it to get me in the positions they want me in, and I obey without question; they're men here to use me, I'm a woman there to be used. Still blindfolded, I can't tell who it is who slips under me until David stuffs his cock into my ass, hooking his ankles over mine to keep me pinned down and my legs spread wide. Lying on top of him, held by the rope around my neck, my wrists pinned by his hands, I'm completely helpless, though I do struggle a bit; we all enjoy it. Gabe lightly whips my breasts and belly and thighs with the riding crop David sometimes uses on me. I make short sharp muffled cries behind the gag, as the whip stings my body; then he lifts my hips to his cock, sliding it into my eager pussy. Then a shock: a third man is here! He kneels across my face, forcing my mouth open against the silk gag and filling it with hard cock, pulling the rope so tight I start to choke. Who the hell could it be...but I suck him eagerly, running my tongue up the underside of his huge, heavy member, putting the point of my tongue on the little eye at the tip, circling it, flicking it, my lips contracting and kissing around his shaft. "Make sure the camera angle's right, don't block the view of your cock going into her mouth," says David from under me, impaling me as I lie back upon his body. "We're gonna get a lot of money for this. I told you she'd be great." He holds my head back by my long hair as the guy in my mouth slides himself down my throat, carefully, so I don't gag as he comes, hanging onto my nipples, his legs straddling me. Oh my God, they're filming this! They set up a movie camera and got another guy to join them. Who is it? I can't tell who's who anymore. Someone has his face between my breasts, licking and biting, and someone else has his face in my smooth shaven crotch, his tongue teasing my swollen clit, his mouth and teeth nibbling at my pussy lips, tongue moving inside my slit. "She's better than a pro," says the third man. "Built to be fucked. Okay, I want to stuff her pussy now." "Be our guest," laughs Gabe, untying my ankles as David pulls out of my ass and the third man eagerly climbs aboard. He pinches my nipples and pushes his fingers into my slit until I sigh and pant in pleasure, arching up off the bed, hips offering myself to him, then he thrusts his way into me as if by right. God, he's even bigger than David or Gabe, and he's as expert a cocksman as they are. More, even. Who is it? Do I know him? Did they plan this? I moan as he drives into me, pounding me like a piece of meat, then he scoops me in his arms, lifting me off the bed, still fucking me, and I scream as I come. "That'll look good on film," says David, as the third man eases me onto the bed again, still in me, and puts my legs over his shoulders to get better access to me, forcing me down and back as he continues to fuck me. He hasn't come yet, but he's in no hurry, and seems to have no lack of either stamina or control. Suddenly I panic, hearing Gabe and David discussing other things they could do to me, invite more guys over, maybe, and I start to fight back. This isn't fun anymore. It's too much, I don't want to do this, please let me go...I struggle frantically, whimpering my desperate protest from behind the silk gag. But the guy who's on me and in me seems to understand my sudden panic. He whispers in my ear, strokes my cheek, kisses my neck and nipples, and I shiver at his touch. He's telling me how amazingly fuckable I am, how I was made for a man to use, what pleasure I give, how I'm here to be taken, how beautiful I am, whispers shhhh, it's okay, shhhh, this is the way a real woman should be with a real man, calm down, that's right, just enjoy it... Gabe and David laugh. "He's a cunt whisperer," David says. "Watch the master at work. She's just a toy under his hand. He'll get her to cooperate." And he does. I don't want to, but I find myself quieting under his practiced touch like a gentled mare being broken. And more aroused than ever at his soft words. My breathing deepens again, I moan, wanting him in me, I lift yearning hips to his penetration, and he laughs as he slams back into my hot wet softness, deeper, harder and faster than before. No man has ever been so deep or so thick in me, he fills me completely. He's taking me, he's using me as I've never been used before, and I love it, my body responds instinctively to him. I couldn't stop if I wanted to. And I don't want to. My clit starts to build to yet another climax, but this one is different, it comes rushing up and radiating out over my whole body. When we come, together, it's like an explosion. My sight goes dark, I feel only the tidal waves of pure pleasure sweeping up from my crotch, and I collapse like a dishrag, half-unconscious. He has possessed me totally and completely; whoever he is, he owns me, in that moment I'm his. "Honey, you're terrific," I hear someone say. "A fantastic piece of tail. Pity to waste you on one man." David laughs. "Not any more." Still in my daze, I feel my head lifted and the gag removed, and something cool is being poured into my mouth. I'm thirsty, and I drink it down greedily. They each fuck me a few more times; I can't move my legs, can't feel my body, just the sensation of them driving into me. Then they leave me again for about half an hour; when they come back, they untie me and drag me into the shower to clean me up, drying me gently. I'm theirs now, they can do whatever they want to me, I'm their plaything, their possession. After my shower, Gabe lifts me effortlessly, carries me back into the bedroom and places me once more on the bed, which now has clean sheets. I'm still blindfolded. As they tie me spread-eagled to the bedframe again, this time fastened so securely that I can't move an inch, too limp to protest or resist, I'm gagged again, more thickly this time. "Come on, let's do it to her now. That gag on good and tight? I don't want the neighbors hearing her screaming." What more could they do to me that they haven't already done, to make me scream more than I already have? I get my answer when fingers expertly stretch my nipples out and I hear a metallic noise and feel sharp pain and a cold steel ring sliding in: they're piercing my nipples! I'm too exhausted to protest, and whatever was in that drink they gave me keeps me both immobile and dulls the pain. And they don't stop there: before I know what's happening, there are rings in my nose and my navel, a bar pressing on my clit, and six more rings spaced down my pussy, three on each side, with a final one across my slit entrance. I scream behind the muffling gag at the last few, but the pain is faraway and dull, thanks to that drug. I lift my hips, moaning a little, but in desire, not in pain. Incredible as it seems, I still want a cock in me, and David laughs and pushes a vibrator into my cunt, filling me, and turns it on. Fingers thread the pussy rings with fine chains and pull the lacings tight over the vibrator, holding it in, then hook those lacings to the chains that link my nipples, navel and clit. Finally, a long bobbypin-like thing, with tiny bells, is forced down either side of my inner lips, pinning them shut. "She looks good with steel in her," says Gabe, running a hand down my naked body, like a man stroking a cat. David kisses me tenderly, touching the bells at my crotch. "You're beautiful, baby. And your regulars at the club are going to get off on you big time. I'm so proud of you." The blindfold comes off at last, and I look around, dazed. The third man smiles at me: he's Chet, my boss at the club! He tugs on my nipple chain, slaps my pussy lightly. "You're just as good as your boyfriend said you'd be, Ron-Ron. You'll be a big hit in the back room when I start you dancing naked back there. And the film of us doing you is gonna make a bundle." As Gabe and my boss leave, David escorts them out, then returns to me. He stands over me, looking down on my pierced, bound and naked body with pride of ownership, and I lift my eyes to his, then I lift my hips in invitation. I'm here to please men, and I am smiling. Two Do Ron-Ron Ch. 02 Two Do Ron-Ron 2: Party Doll I'm Veronica, known to my go-go dancing public as Ron-Ron. I live with my boyfriend of over a year, David, in a beautiful old house in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, in 1968. A couple of months ago, David invited our college friend, Gabe, to fuck me while David watched. It escalated into some pretty serious bondage and double-teaming with Gabe and David, all three of us loving every minute of it. Then a third guy—my boss at the go-go club, Chet—was called in to also make use of me, the whole thing was filmed and I ended up pierced in twelve places. Quite a night. We all thought it was a shame to waste the piercings and the fact that I had totally gotten off on all the dominance and bondage stuff—David said I'd never performed better—so once I healed up Chet started me dancing naked in the back room at his club, Sparks. I get paid triple for dancing nude, so I wasn't unhappy in the slightest. Also I like to see men watching me naked, imagining what it would be like if they jumped up on the little stage and threw me on my back on the floor, if they mounted me against my will and got off on me in front of everybody. It makes me hot to think about it, and I dance better when I'm hot. So it didn't totally surprise me when Chet came to me one night after closing. "I have a proposition for you, babe," he said, sitting down on the couch in the tiny dressing room as I toweled off after my shower. "You don't have to do it, but this is a personal request from one of my best longtime customers." It turned out this guy wanted me to dance naked at his son's eighteenth birthday party, and there was a suggestion that I should be the kid's special present. He was a virgin, and his father thought he would be better initiated into sex by a pussy he knew was clean and safe and talented. He'd never fucked me himself, of course, but he was very familiar with my bare body from his nights at the club and I guess he liked what he saw it could do. Standing up, anyway. Chet went on to say this guy would pay me a thousand dollars for the weekend, which was a month's salary at the club. Even after Chet's commission, it was still a ton of money, and David and I could really use it, so I said yes, sure. "That's my girl," Chet smiled, and pinched my bare breast affectionately. "I'll drive you there Saturday afternoon and collect you Sunday night, and I'll also be at the party, so you won't be alone. This is a big deal for you, and I don't want you to get scared." Meaning, basically, it was my first gig being paid to let someone fuck me, so maybe I'd be nervous. Well, I guessed I was now officially a hooker. But I didn't feel like one. "Just the kid, right?" "Well, I got the impression his dad wants to try you out first," Chet said a little reluctantly. "Would that be a problem?" "Not for me," I said, laughing. Over the past month, David had brought home a couple of guys from his stockbroker house, and he'd given them the use of me to sweeten a deal or two. One at a time, of course, on two separate occasions. I'd enjoyed it, and so had they, especially when David tied me to the bed in front of them and watched them enjoy me right back. So this time I was personally getting money for it, no difference. The next weekend, Chet drove me to a gorgeous estate in the Sea Cliff section of San Francisco, big fancy houses on big plots of land right by the Golden Gate bridge, very exclusive and expensive. As requested by the guy who had hired me, I was wearing a knee-length fox fur coat he'd supplied, my own thigh high boots, and nothing else except a black leather collar and all my piercings, including the labia clip with tiny bells on. My blond hair was loose as usual and falling to my ass. As I got out of the car, I felt the cold sea air on my bare pussy, and hurried after Chet, who rang the front doorbell and at the same time attached a leash to my collar. "He wanted me to deliver you like this," he said, half apologetically, and I smiled, though I was shivering a little, and not from the sea air. "Hey, I'm just the present," I said, and felt a thrill: I was an object, a piece of property; I was merchandise being delivered to its owner—a temporary owner, but still I was bought and paid for, and I liked the feeling. The door was opened by a tall man I recognized instantly from the club, Jack. He was about forty and at least six-four, dark-haired, green-eyed, not classically handsome but ruggedly attractive. As Chet put the leash in his hand, I felt another thrill shoot through me; I felt small and female and helpless in the power of men, and both of them saw it. "I'll be back later for the party," said Chet, "Enjoy her." Jack smiled and nodded, then he tugged on the leash and led me inside. I followed him downstairs to a room that had obviously been carefully prepared. Soundproof, no windows, with a huge fur-covered bed in the center of the floor, and various posts and rings and hooks scattered around the walls and floor and ceiling, even a small cage set into the far wall, a few strange-looking pieces of apparatus, of wood and black leather. "Kneel," he said, and I went immediately to my knees. "I take it Chet explained what the deal is?" "Sort of," I admitted. "He said you wanted me to dance nude at your son's party, and be his birthday present after you had tried me out?" "Sort of," he smiled. "Oh, by the way, tonight you address every man here as 'Master'. Now take off the coat." I slipped the beautiful soft red fox off my shoulders and knelt there naked except for the boots and collar and leash. He walked completely around me, studying me, and I held myself very still and well postured, shoulders back to show off my tits, back arched to show off my well-rounded heart-shaped ass, all my steel shining in the warm lamplight. "Very, very nice," he said then. "On the bed." "Yes, master." I was shivering with anticipation by now, and he saw it and smiled as he watched me get on the bed and lie on my back, my right leg straight, my left bent at the knee and flopped outward so that my pussy was well displayed. "Chet said you dance as well horizontally as you do vertically onstage. I'm planning on finding out before I let my son use you." While he spoke, his hands had been busy on me, spreading me out, tugging on the fine chains that ran from nipples to clit. Now he fastened my wrists to fur-lined shackles and pulled the chains up so I was stretched out for him, though I could still move my legs. Another clip-chain was snapped to my collar, holding me perfectly. He ran his hands down to my inner thighs, playing with the rings and the little bells of the labia pin, sliding a finger inside my cunt and moving it around, exploring deep. Then he lifted my hips to his mouth and his tongue found my clit. I arched my back, gasping, as he tongued my clit hood and drew my little pink pearl into his mouth, then bit the soft inside of my smooth-shaven pussy. He didn't wait long to mount me and ram his way in; I was already dripping and my clit was throbbing hard. He wasn't the biggest or longest I'd ever had, but he was hard as a rock and really thick, filling my cunt, just as I like it to be filled. Skillful too: he plunged in, then withdrew all but the head of his cock, keeping it just touching my entrance, over and over again, until I was writhing under him, begging him. "Oh God...Jack, please, fuck me, I want you in me now!" He slapped my face. "You were ordered to address all men tonight as 'Master', slut!" "Forgive me, master, please use me, master!" Then he pushed in for real and started fucking me like a stallion, slamming into me as hard as he could, holding me still with his hands at my waist. I drew my knees up, spread them wide and began to thrust back at him, meeting his movement, feeling him fill me up, feeling his cock in me and his balls pressing against the steel pussy rings, feeling him tug at my nipple rings and chains, even playfully biting at the small steel ring in my nose. To him, I was an animal, purchased for pleasure, nameless, there only for him to use. Then his pace increased, and so did my hips slamming back at him, and we came together. I'm pretty proud of the fact that once I'm being fucked, I can instantly figure out the rhythm for us both to climax at the same time. I haven't been with a lot of men, ten or twelve maybe, but my body knows what to do to make us all happy. I'm five-six, 36C-24-35, really curvy but slim otherwise, and thankfully I'm built to orgasm from fucking alone, which pleases me and the men who fuck me. After, we lay quiet for a while. Then Jack unfastened my hands and kissed my shoulder. "God, you really are a great piece of ass. You're everything Chet said you were. You'll do fine for Nate. Now go clean yourself up, there's a shower and all kinds of makeup in the bathroom over there. I'll bring you something to eat, and then you can just take it easy, watch TV, till the party's on upstairs. I'll come get you." He brought me some fancy sandwiches, milk, a dish of strawberries, just something light; I wasn't really hungry, but figured I better eat while I had a chance. Then I dozed a little, awakening when he came back to lead me upstairs. I was now dressed for action, as ordered, in my tear-off black bikini, with the boots and collar; and when I was brought, leashed, into the party room everybody cheered to see me. It was all men, of all ages: Jack's friends and his son's too, maybe a dozen or fifteen guys all told. I smiled, tossed my ass-length blond hair and got up on the little stage area to start dancing. The fantastic sex with Jack had set me up. I was on fire, and I moved like a tiger, my body shining in the lights. Guys grabbed for me, sometimes I let them reach me and sometimes I didn't. My bikini didn't stay on long, and neither did the boots. After about an hour, at Jack's signal, I ran down to dance in front of Nate, Jack's son, as instructed. He was tall, like his dad, and frankly I couldn't believe he'd never scored himself a chick. He looked more like twenty-five than eighteen. He was gorgeous: dark hair, blue eyes, well built. But maybe he was shy. He hadn't taken his eyes off me all night, and I danced in front of him now like a newly purchased slave girl in front of the young prince, the young master of the harem, rubbing my thighs against his leg, my breasts against his chest, hoping to please. Suddenly I felt my arms seized by two of Jack's friends, and two more grabbed my legs. I was lifted and carried over to a long cushioned stretcher against the wall, on top of a table. The men fastened my wrists and ankles to rings in the stretcher's side pieces, so that I couldn't move, and hooked my collar to another. Then they began decorating my naked body with birthday cake icing: buttercream rings around my tits, cherries nestling in whipped cream on my nipples and navel, my whole smooth pussy covered in whipped cream and a lighted candle stuck in the icing just above my clit. Not only was I the birthday present, apparently I was the cake as well. They carried me out into the room to the Happy Birthday song and set me down in the middle of the floor. Then the birthday boy came over to blow out his candle. His other candle, I could see, was already blazing away. "Come on, Nate, blow it out and make a wish! Or just blow it!" "Put that candle in the cake!" Everybody was laughing and yelling, and I thought he'd be embarrassed, but he was only thinking about sticking his own lit candle into the tempting piece of cake offered so deliciously before him. He blew out the real candle, then started licking the cream and icing off me. Three of his friends came over and went to work on my breasts and belly, popping the real cherries into their mouths and then sucking on my nipples. I was cleaned off in about thirty seconds, and dripping wet, and then Nate knelt between my legs and unzipped his pants. He was in me in one quick thrust; hey, he was eighteen, he was a virgin, there was a naked chick tied down for him to fuck, he wasn't going to waste time on foreplay or worry about an audience. He was as well hung as his father: he gave a few quick, deep thrusts, driving all the way in, and blew his load in me, then he looked down at me, and gave me a great big grin, and all the men cheered him. Virgin no more! Then one by one, all the other party guests had a piece of the cake too, or a piece of the piece. Some wanted to fuck me, others wanted to just eat me, some wanted me to suck them off. I hadn't expected this, and I panicked, and began to fight them. But that was just what they wanted, a nude girl, tied down for their pleasure and struggling helplessly, and one by one they raped me. But can you call it rape if you're secretly enjoying it? "Hey, pretty slut, Jack paid good money for that hot pussy of yours," one of them said when I struggled under him as he pushed his way into me. "We're gonna get our own birthday present out of you. The more you fight the better we like it, a hot naked chick squirming under us as we fuck her senseless." When Chet came along to take his turn on me, he pretended to gobble away at my ribcage, biting my breasts, tugging on my navel ring. "Nicest piece of birthday cake I've ever had," he said, casually slipping inside me and beginning to thrust. "You make a great slave, slut." "Thank you, master," I said, and gave myself over to the familiar forceful rhythm of his fucking. We'd done a handful of sex shows at the club, and he was my preferred partner; we knew how to bring each other off superbly, and the party stopped partying just to watch Chet expertly fuck me until I screamed. Finally everyone had had their turn on me, and I found myself lifted again and carried downstairs to the room I'd been in earlier. Hands untied me and helped me shower and clean myself up, and then everybody but Jack, Chet and Nate left, with happy thanks for the great party. I will never forget the rest of that night, and I bet Nate never will either. Jack and Chet, taking turns, showed Nate exactly what a man can do to a woman. They each fucked me missionary style, just for the hell of it, then Jack flipped me over and did my cunt from behind. Chet pulled me up to all fours and fucked me doggy style, my arms tied behind my back, then Jack demonstrated ass fucking to his wide-eyed son, whipping me first to get my ass warmed up. Then they showed him double-teaming, Jack on his back with me impaled on his cock, Chet shoving into my ass from behind, and Nate didn't need to be told to come round and force my mouth open to take his dick. This was a favorite configuration, and I was a quivering piece of meat, feeling two cocks in me separated only by a thin wall of sensitive flesh, filling my ass and my cunt, pounding away against the steel rings, feeling the third cock filling my mouth as I eagerly sucked it off. "Remember," Jack said to Nate at one point later on, cock buried deep in my cunt and my legs over his shoulders, "women are made to be used, and men are made to use them. Use them to please yourself, and you'll end up pleasing them as well." When they finally left Nate alone with me, at about three in the morning, I found out he was a very quick learner. He eagerly applied all the techniques he'd been shown, then fastened me spread-eagled to the bed and began to give my body the most thorough, leisurely, slow handling I'd ever had, from my toes to my ears. He licked and kissed and sucked and stroked every inch of me, for at least twenty minutes. By the end I was on fire, moaning, begging him to fuck me, and finally he did, removing some of my rings to get better access, even whipping me with Jack's short five-bladed leather whip until my thighs and mound and flanks were pink against the rest of my whiteness. He was eighteen, and as insatiable and inexhaustible as he would ever be in his life, and obviously he'd decided he liked fucking. He slid into me now like an experienced man would, not a boy anymore; he knew what to do to get a helpless screaming response out of me, and he enjoyed watching me give it. Tonight, I was being trained as much as he was, responding like an animal to pleasure and pain both. "You're amazing," he said softly, as I lay gasping for breath. "I could fuck you forever." He probably could, too. Then we fell asleep for a few hours, until Nate awoke with a raging hard-on and started in on me all over again. All Sunday we were alone together in that basement room. Someone left a tray of food outside, and he took pleasure in feeding me like a pet as I knelt before him. His shyness had worn off long ago, and we started to talk. He was a sweet, intelligent kid, off to college in a few weeks, and I instructed him what to do if he wanted to please the girls there. They'd eat him up. So to speak. Finally Jack returned, bringing Chet with him, both of them grinning ear to ear, and the birthday was over. I cleaned myself up and came out of the bathroom naked. Nate came over to kiss me, and ran a possessive hand over me, like a man with a prize thoroughbred filly. "Can't we keep her?" he asked his dad, only half kidding, and the men laughed. "Could you sell her to us, Chet?" "She'd probably like that," said Chet, "being sold as a slave. But no, we have to get her home." "We filmed the whole thing, son; you can watch it anytime you want. But I'm sure we could arrange for another birthday treat," said Jack. "Or Christmas, or the Fourth of July, or Thanksgiving. Don't you think so, slut?" "Yes, master," I said demurely, eyes cast down, and they all laughed again. Jack gifted me with the beautiful fox coat, its pocket full of my fee for the weekend, and I gave Nate the black leather collar and leash as a keepsake of his first time, which pleased both him and his father. As Chet and I drove away, I hid my face in the big soft fur collar, knowing I was a whore now, but I still couldn't stop smiling. Two Do Ron-Ron Ch. 03 I'm Ronnie, Veronica; Ron-Ron to some. I've been go-go dancing at my boss Chet's club in the Haight-Ashbury for a year now. With the full consent and urging of my boyfriend David, I've gotten into some interesting, and, yeah, lucrative scenes. I didn't start out to do sex for money, but when the chance comes along---dancing nude in the club's private back room for members only, letting David film me being fucked by friends or strangers, being the present at a birthday party, things like that---I do. Not a lot, just enough to make me feel like a man's total plaything and possession. Which I love feeling like, by the way. But we always need a few extra bucks, and frankly I'm thrilled to do it and get paid. (I'm just as thrilled to do it for free, of course, too.) What I like best is being forced. Well, you really can't say it's rape, against my will, not when I'm enjoying every second of it, but the guys like to see me, and enjoy me, tied down naked after a "struggle", and I like them to do it. So after the birthday party success (not only paid but I got a fur coat out of it!), David and I started to think of other possibilities... Chet brought me a message one night that a valued club patron would like to enjoy private overnight horizontal dancing with me, for the usual handsome fee, and we were a little short that week at home, so I said yes, as David and I had agreed I could. "Good girl," said Chet, smiling. "Be waiting for him in your dressing room after the show." There are three or four small dressing rooms in the back of the club, fitted with kingsize beds, showers and all the sex toys you can imagine. I'm not the only girl who obliges club customers, but I'm the star dancer, so I have the nicest room. I've decorated it myself, so it looks like a beautiful harem chamber, with rich, colorful drapes and fabrics, fur throws and pillows, mirrored walls and ceilings, and the men never fail to dig it. When the patron arrived, I was kneeling by the bed, head down, my costume on again. I'd learned this was how the men like it, the ones who'd seen me dance and want to have me after: they want to see me submissive and waiting, ready for them to strip me. He pulled me up by the arm, and I saw who it was. I didn't know his name, but he came to the club regularly. I love big men, they make me feel utterly female when they fuck me, and this one was absolutely gorgeous: had to be six-six and 225 pounds, powerful build, long shaggy ash-blond hair to his shoulders, darker than my own gold-blond, neatly trimmed full beard. He looked like a Viking prince, or the king of the surfers. In the private club I'd often danced directly to him, letting him rip off the tearaway bikini, displaying my body to him, but he'd never asked for me before and I'd never spoken to him. He touched my cheek gently. "I've wanted this for quite a while, you know," he said in a deep, English-accented voice, or maybe Danish. "I'm curious to see if you fuck as well as you dance." "I'll do my best, I'm yours for the night," I said, eyes cast down modestly. I was amazed to find myself shivering at his touch; this was going to be good. "Indeed you are," he said, smiling, and picked me up and lay me down on the bed. He began stripping my costume off—didn't take very long, there's not much there—and when I was naked, he began running his hands over me, studying me like a textbook on female anatomy. I'm not muscled or anything, even as a dancer: my body is slim but curvy, soft and, men tell me, very desirable, with long legs that make up way more than half my height. "So sweet...you're so fuckable." "Then fuck me." I was having a hard time getting words out, being instantly turned on. His hands had traveled down to my crotch, and he was tugging gently on my piercings. I had a clit bar in, and six rings, three on each outer labia, that were often linked by chains to my navel and nipple rings. I also had a nose ring in, which really seems to turn the guys on. He clamped one strong hand over my entire smooth, bare mound, gripping hard, and closed the other, gently but firmly, around my throat, and I went very still, suddenly aware that this was no man to trifle with, that quite apart from him paying to use me, I would do well to obey his smallest wish and least command. But he just smiled down at me, the smile of a man in possession of a woman he's about to enjoy. "I'm going to fuck you in every hole you have, slut." In less than a minute he had me utterly helpless, spread-eagled and tied down, and was eating me out at his leisure, slowly and expertly, his hands cupping my ass. I loved the way his long hair brushed my thighs, like extra fingers; the way his beard felt against my smooth snatch; the way his lips took possession of my delicate soft parts; and I moaned as his mouth found my slit among the rings, flicking at my clit, the point of his tongue entering me delicately, then his lips drawing my clit into his mouth and sucking it hard, raking it between his teeth, biting at my pussy lips and clit hood until I was begging him to take me. I wanted to feel him deep inside me, riding me like a stallion covering a mare: it was what I was here for. I wanted to look down along my glistening naked body and watch his beautiful thick cock disappearing into my hot wet softness, I wanted him to piledrive me until I screamed so loud they'd hear me on the Golden Gate Bridge. But he had ideas of his own. Suddenly he stopped eating me, reared back and stripped his clothes off; God, he was beautiful, all muscled and hard. Naked now, he moved to straddle my face, his hands twisted in my long hair holding my head still for him, and I eagerly opened my mouth to take him in. His uncut English cock went deep, pushing on my nose ring as I sucked and tongued his massive shaft. But he didn't want me to blow him, and he pulled out after a minute to kneel between my legs and poise his cock at my entrance, fingers at work; between his tongue and my own juices my slit was dripping wet by now. Being tied down, I couldn't wrap my arms and legs around him as I longed to, and he knew that. He watched my face as he began to mount me, his dick slipping tantalizingly just barely in, and then as my little moans and gasps got more urgent and more intense, he finally plunged in, hard and deep. I screamed and arched my back: he was huge, one of the thickest, biggest cocks I'd ever had in me, and he felt terrific. I loved the feeling of his weight on me, his strength pinning me to the bed, his dick stretching out my cunt and the feel of it inside me as it moved against the walls of my cunt, the texture of his skin and the hardness of his muscles against my softness, the way he made my whole body move up toward the head of the bed with every thrust he gave me—like I was the lollipop and he was the stick. I writhed under him, pushing my hips up in time to his motion, and as we started to come together, that delirious exploding wave of feeling coming up from my crotch, unstoppable, we both cried out, and he fell on me, biting my neck like a mating lion to mark me as his. We weren't done, though; he hardened up again inside me almost at once, and before he was spent that second time he had made me come five times in a single fuck. But he'd paid for me for the whole night, and before we fell asleep for a bit, he had me suck him off, and used my ass a few times too: from behind, me flat on the bed; flipping me onto my back and bending my legs back, or over his shoulders. My cunt wasn't neglected: once he knelt upright on the bed and pulled me up to meet his cock, only my feet and shoulders on the bed, his strong hands holding me to meet his cock driving into my dripping cunt, like I was the plowblade and he was the plow. And he plowed me good and hard. I love it when men just do whatever they want to me and never ask my permission; it's the natural way. If a man uses a woman to please himself, it generally pleases her too, because she's made to please him. That's how we're wired. "You are incredible," he gasped later, on his knees behind me with my heart-shaped ass in the air: his cock buried in my cunt, my head and bound arms on the bed as he pulled me back onto him by my shoulders, driving forward into me, fucking me as if he owned me. Well, he did, for that night at least. In the mirrors, I loved the look of our bodies joined together: my creamy pale skin, his surfer's tan against it, his long blond hair falling forward to hide his face, the way he looked kneeling there slamming into me, the way I looked bent over before him. "You're pretty incredible yourself," I gasped back as he made me come yet again. He'd used me it seemed like dozens of times in every possible position, with toys from vibrators to nipple clamps; he'd even whipped me once or twice. I hoped he felt he'd gotten his money's worth out of me; actually I felt like I should be paying him, I'd enjoyed him so much. In the morning, he was gone, a generous tip left for me and the fee paid to Chet as usual. I saw him once or twice again at the club, but he never said a word to me and never even smiled. I knew I'd pleased him very much, so I wasn't really concerned, but then he stopped showing up and I figured maybe he'd moved away. A few months later, I was leaving the club one cool night full of San Francisco fog; I was wearing my tear-off dancing bikini, fastened only by thin ribbon-paper ties so men could just pull it off me, and over it a long tapestry coat I'd picked up at a Haight boutique. I looked around for my usual car service, but he wasn't there yet, so I stood there waiting. Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, his hand over my mouth and his arm lifting me off the ground. I struggled and tried to see his face, but he was really strong and I couldn't break free. He carried me around the corner to a waiting van and threw me inside face down, jumping in after me and slamming the door. Instantly the van took off: two of them. I'd been kidnapped. My captor wrapped the coat tightly around me and lashed my ankles together, then bound my wrists behind my back. Quickly he gagged and blindfolded me, and I was helpless. The two men never said a word to each other. I was beginning to wonder if this was one of David's "possibilities", but it wasn't him, I could tell from the size and feel. We drove for at least an hour, and the guy who'd grabbed me didn't lose any time getting his cock into my mouth as I lay there helpless. I sucked him off eagerly, then he and the driver traded places and I did him too. Definitely not David, or Chet, or any other man I knew. They finger-fucked me in my cunt and ass, too, until I was moaning, but that was as far as it went, and I wondered why they didn't just rape me right there, nothing stopping them. Finally we arrived at our destination. I could tell it was deep in the country: cool air, smell of pines, complete silence. I was carried out of the van and into the house, slung over the first guy's shoulder like a rolled-up carpet, then down into the cellar. Still blindfolded and gagged, I was set down on the thickly carpeted floor, my coat removed, and then they fastened my rebound hands to a hook in the ceiling and my ankles to a bar set into the floor. As far as I could tell, the room was dark except for a spotlight directly above me; the light and heat fell right on me. The gag was removed and a glass of water with a straw in it was held to my lips; I drank eagerly. Ever since I'd been carried in, I'd heard low male voices talking a few feet away: apparently there were a number of people here. Then I felt myself circled by them, people I couldn't see, and someone pulled off the tearaway bikini, so that I hung there nude, wearing only my steel piercings. Many different hands ran over my naked body, cupping my breasts and ass cheeks, stroking my smooth bare pussy, pinching and tugging on my nipples until my 36C's shook, commenting on my attributes. I was being displayed and handled like a filly on the auction block; and then I realized that's exactly what I was. Then the strangers went away, apparently taking their seats, and I sensed a feeling of anticipation in the room, centered on me, and I shivered. "Gentlemen," came a deep unfamiliar voice, "thank you for coming to tonight's auction. We have here for sale as our first lot this delicious little piece of prime fuckmeat. She's 21, five-six, a hundred and ten pounds, 36C-24-35, great rack, a nice curvy and cuddly armful. Blond hair to her pretty little ass, piercings as you see, green eyes, a trained dancer. She comes with papers and a license for resale. Once she's broken, she'll make a superb slave; she's insatiable, so she'd be an asset in a brothel; and if you just want her for personal use, she's a dynamite fuck, I've had her myself. The consigner wants to sell her outright, no conditions on her sale or her future use. The bidding starts at a thousand." "Can we see her in action?" came a voice from out in the room. It suddenly hit me: I was being sold. This wasn't a game. David had actually put me up for sale, and a stranger was actually going to buy me. In spite of panic and terror, a thrill shot through my crotch at the idea of being owned, a man's true possession and enjoyment. And who was this man selling me, who claimed he'd had me? I didn't recognize his voice... "Of course. Draw cards for which of you gets the chance to test-drive her." There was a buzz of laughing talk, then one shout of triumph. The winner came forward, ran his hands over me, and then I was let down and tied spread-eagled to a thickly padded frame. He took his time mounting me, handling me like a pro---which I later found out he was, the head buyer for a corporate harem in Singapore---hands on my inner thighs, finger teasing my slit, then slipping deep inside, and another into my ass. I arched against my bonds, raising my hips to him like a bitch in heat, as his fingers moved around inside me. I heard him laugh softly as he withdrew his fingers and began to knead my breasts, then lowered himself on me, his cock out and hard, and brushing my pussy. I was panting now, feeling him touch me, straining against my bonds, unable to speak or see as his hands slipped under my ass and lifted my hips to give him better access to my cunt. He put his cock to my dripping slit and began to pull on my hips, pulling me down onto his cock rather than pushing it into me. He was fairly thick, just as I like it, not overly long. A super-long cock is a waste, really: there's just so many inches a cunt can take, and I like to feel a man in me all the way, right up to his balls pressed to my pussy. But thickness is where it's at, and this guy filled me up. I moaned behind the gag, and he began to move, thrusting harder and deeper, pulling all the way out only to plunge in again. I started to writhe beneath him, in time with his thrusts, lifting my hips to him, totally getting off on the fact that I was naked and he wasn't. There's something so primitive and erotic about being a completely nude woman getting fucked by a fully dressed man---the feel of your bare body rubbing against cloth, the sense that you're just a female animal there for a male to use, that he can't even be bothered to take his clothes off to shove his cock into you, he just wants to get on you and in you there and then and that's all there is to it---and believe me, I was COMPLETELY into it. He felt me respond to him, and started ramming into me as I heaved back at him. I could hear the cheers of the other men there, and it drove me wild knowing they were watching me perform, and would soon be bidding on me. Let them see what they'd get for their money! I squirmed under him like a total slut, wild with his motion, and we both came together, to much applause. He pulled out of me, kissed me on my belly and climbed off, while I lay there gasping and exhausted. The bidding, no surprise, was fast and furious after that, and in the end I was sold for fifteen thousand dollars. A lot of money, more than a whole year's salary for me at the club; my new owner must be a wealthy man. Still, if he kept me for ten years, that's only fifteen hundred a year, and I'd still only be 31. Or maybe he'd put me out to stud, use me to breed for couples. David...well, I could understand why he'd done it, really. And I wasn't terribly surprised or even terribly upset. I'd always had the sense that I was just property, for men to do with as they pleased; honestly, I secretly got off on the idea of being bought and sold, of a stranger owning me to do with whatever he wanted, and I wondered what my life would now be like. The bidders began to talk among themselves as drinks were served and another lot was brought in for sale, and I was led into another room. Still blindfolded, I was made to kneel; my hair was lifted and a steel collar was locked around my throat. I heard the metallic click as the tumblers spun and closed; I was utterly powerless to get the collar off my body, and the feeling gave me a thrill. Then I was carried over to a padded table and fastened down, completely immobilized, and I heard a buzzing and suddenly felt a sharp pain in my left thigh. I was being tattooed! The inker saw my protesting expression, and squeezed my breast reassuringly. "Don't worry, it's just a small brand, very pretty. We tattoo all the merchandise that we sell here. The brand says you're property, and lets future buyers know what dealer sold you first. The collar says whose property you are. If you get sold again, and someone as pretty as you will have either a lot of masters or just the first one, your new master will put his own collar on you, then take the old one off, so your body will never be without the touch of an owner's steel." Speaking of whom... I still hadn't seen my owner's face, or heard his voice. Helped off the table, still blindfolded, my coat was put on again over my nakedness. Then I was leashed and my hands bound behind my back, and led outside and put into a luxurious limo-like car, tied down securely and comfortably on the back seat. We drove for at least another hour, no word spoken, then the car pulled up on gravel and stopped. Still in the mountains: same cool pine-scented damp air, same utter quiet, except now I could hear the sea very close at hand. My owner pulled me out of the car, lifted me in his arms and carried me to the threshold, setting me down on the doorstep and opening the door. "Crawl, slave." The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled into his house. I was instantly commanded to strip and put my head to the floor, my back rounded over and my arms drawn in. I heard the snap of a whip behind me, then felt the first of four lashes across the smooth creamy skin of my back. I almost screamed with the pain and surprise, but resolved to hold my position and not cry out. "The whip does no permanent damage. It's just to make sure you understand there will be punishment for disobedience, and to let you know your place," my master said then, and he sounded pleased at my response. "And that I'm in control. I own you. I bought you. I'm your master, you're my slave." I wasn't likely to forget: naked, branded and collared as I was, and now whipped too. Then he pulled me to my feet and ripped the blindfold off, and, by my hair, dragged my head back to look him in the face. I gasped, and he smiled: he was the tall, bearded blond Englishman from the club who'd bought my use that night several months ago. And now he'd bought me entirely. "I take it you're not displeased with your new master, slave?" he asked, grinning, now using his true accent, the lovely educated British one I remembered. I fell to his feet and kissed his boots. "No, master. Not in the slightest." Two Do Ron-Ron Ch. 03 He carried me into his bedroom, fastening my collar to a long chain that ran from the foot of the bed. He was obviously eager to exercise a master's rights upon the body of his slave, for he took me dry, without any warm-up, just slammed into me and had his pleasure, and although it was a painful rape, I loved being used by him in that way, and later, told him so. He laughed and kissed me. "Women are made to be used by men, owned by men. Don't you always respond better sexually when you're in the hands of a man who really knows what to do with you? Of course you do. A woman senses her master in the man who's using her, and yields to it, and the man responds to her submission with greater mastery. It works for them both. And you, my lovely little piece of tail, are a natural slave." "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." He laughed again. "I wanted to own you from the first minute I saw you dance; long before I fucked you. Then once I paid for your use that night at the club, I knew I had to have you permanently." I snuggled up against him. "You could have just asked me out." He slapped my ass, but I could tell he was smiling. "I didn't want a relationship with you, silly slut, I wanted to own you! It all came down to connections: a friend of Chet's knew the slave trader, and Chet knew David wouldn't hesitate to sell you if he had the chance, and I'd told Chet the morning after I'd had you that I wanted to buy you if I could, so it was all set up. The slavers handled the kidnapping and sale: we thought selling you direct from David to me would have been, ah, indiscreet. Though he does know I bought you, of course, and is very pleased with the price you fetched. But the auction worked out perfectly." "Yes, I think it did." I realized now why the auctioneer had said he'd had me: he had been one of the dozens of men who had fucked me at the birthday party that night. My training began the next day. It was fairly simple: various slave positions, how my master liked to be approached, how to address him. He informed me early on that I would be given to other men whenever he felt like it, and that I would be expected to please them as well as I pleased him. "You will kneel at all times in the presence of men. On entering a room where I am, you will prostrate yourself by the door and not move until acknowledged. You will not speak unless spoken to or commanded otherwise. You will address all men as 'master' and all free women and senior slavegirls as 'mistress'. You will be naked in my various homes at all times, except for your collar or if I order you to wear specific items. You will not leave the house, ever. With my permission, you may go in the gardens or the pool or down to the private beach, and you will let me know where you are at all times. You have no name until I give you one. You have no rights, no freedoms, no will of your own, no chance of escape. I may chain you in the house as it pleases me. You're an animal, valuable livestock, my property to do with as I please. I own you the way I own my car or my dog or my shirt. You will obey me perfectly and please me completely or you'll be disciplined. And you can be sold to another master at any time, for any reason or no reason." I was happy to obey him; he was so beautiful and he owned me so completely. I had never realized it, but I truly was a natural slave. Maybe David and Chet had known, but though I knew I liked men to overpower me, take me by force, the slave aspect had never crossed my mind. But now that I had no choice, I found I loved it. My master thought my body already perfectly to his taste, and I was already pierced just about everywhere a female body could take a piercing, but he had a few more rings put in, on my inner labia, so he could lace me completely closed at his will. He gave me slim steel shackles at wrists and ankles, to match my collar, but the rest of me, brand included, was fine just as I was. He was full of strength and vitality, and often used me three or four times a day; my body was being trained and conditioned to respond to his. Ever since my first sexual experiences, once I figured out what to do to make sex fabulous for both my partner and me I'd never failed to have an orgasm, or several, every single time I was fucked. But he forced my body to climaxes that ripped us both apart and left us gasping and trembling, and we both loved it. He entertained frequently, and to my great surprise, often his friends had slaves of their own they brought along; we slavegirls got along fine, trading stories of use, sharing techniques, boasting of the strength and beauty of our masters, how perfectly they had enslaved us. Sometimes he'd give me to one of these friends for the night, or a weekend, trading me for another slavegirl, and I took pleasure in serving with perfection, and hearing my prowess and obedience praised to my master the next day. But I was always jealous when another slavegirl served him instead of me. He did beat me from time to time: if I spilled the wine serving him, if I wasn't sufficiently alluring as I danced for him or submissive to his guests. But the whippings were always deserved, and he wasn't angry with me; he just punished me correctly for my fault and the thing was over. I've been his slave for a year now. After a couple of months, my master allowed me to go back to work at the club a few times a month, dancing for private audiences under his watchful eye, and I was so happy he did. We have a wonderful life together: I never thought I could find such joy in being a man's slave, and he says the same of being a girl's master. We're very lucky, I think. Then last night he told me to expect an overnight guest, and when I opened the door, naked as usual except for my collar and my brand, David stood in the entry hall. I dropped to my knees, as I would have done before any man, and David raised me up, smiling. "Hello, Ronnie," he said. "Nice to see you again." "Thank you, Master David," I replied. "But my master calls me Veronica." "Veronica, then. A good slave name." It was strange, serving David at dinner in my nakedness, being ordered to his room by my master, given to him to use for the night. We had once made love as equals and partners; now I was a slave anxious to please him. Which I apparently did. "I really like fucking you as a slave," he said, thrusting into me; the feeling of his hard cock after so long was both weird and familiar. But the dynamic was different now, and we both sensed it. "You were a great fuck as a girlfriend, but you're a much better fuck as a slave." "I am pleased if master is pleased," I said in correct slave mode. He laughed and continued to pound his cock into my dripping cunt, feeling me writhe under him, hearing me moan. "You really always were a natural slave, you know. Did you mind being sold?" I smiled. "Not a bit, really." Then I couldn't speak as he used me hard and well, his cock drilling me the way it used to, his motion on me making me wild, my body spasming under his. After we were finished, David laid a hand on my smooth pussy, moving it over my hipbones, my soft inner thighs, toying with my rings. I love everything about fucking, but there's something about a man idly stroking me and talking with me after he's used me that makes me feel totally female and complete. "You didn't know it, but the sale was for a year only. Basically, Mark here bought you on contract, like hiring you for a year, but with the understanding that you should believe you were a slave and he could train you as he pleased. From what he tells me, you were well worth what he paid for you, and I got a nice price for you which came in very useful with some deals I was working. But the year's up. I can claim you back now and you'll be free again. Do you want me to?" My master—Mark! I'd never known his real name before—had been in the room watching the whole performance, and I hadn't even known. But I was pleased that he'd seen me serve another man so well, pleased that he knew what a perfect slave he owned. There was laughter in his voice now. "Well, do you want him to, slut? Answer honestly, or I'll have to whip you." I slipped from the bed and knelt at my master's feet. "No, master. I want to stay here as your slave, if you still want me." I looked up at him, teasingly, and began to run my hands up his thighs, rubbing my head against his crotch, feeling him harden through the jeans he wore. "And that's an honest answer. But please, will you whip me anyway?" My master laughed, and so did David. "Oh, I think that can be arranged." Two Do Ron-Ron: The Prequel It's funny to think back on now, considering that since I moved to San Francisco in 1967 I've been a naked dancer for money, a slut rented out for use at parties, and now, a year later, I'm a man's bought, branded and collared slave. I love it: I love hard fucking, being used by men as nature intended, serving them and pleasing them. I love being a slave, and I love sex. But I resisted my first time. I was eighteen, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to give in to a man and let him have me. Lucky for me I had the decision taken out of my hands... My serious boyfriend in college, Jorge, had been begging me to let him fuck me for a couple of months, but I just wasn't ready yet. I don't know what was stopping me: I adored him, he was gorgeous, half Danish, half Spanish, not overly tall, about 5'10" to my 5'6", with a great body, strong and muscled, dark, dark eyes and Viking-blond hair. But it was 1965, and nice girls were still hanging on to their virginity. I had had a few boyfriends before Jorge, but the most I ever let them do was French-kiss me and feel my tits through my clothes. With Jorge, we petted a lot, of course, and I very soon let him take off my top and bra, and kiss my breasts, and even put his hand up my skirt to play inside my panties. Once he slipped his finger into me, which really surprised me. But what surprised me even more was how much I secretly liked it. I was crazy about him, and sometimes it was really hard to stop. Still, I wouldn't let him go all the way with me. That all changed sophomore year of college, when Jorge and I, newly engaged, went to a party way up in the hills, near our small upstate school. It was June, and classes had just ended, and I was staying on for a while in my off-campus apartment, letting the lease run out before going home. The parents of one of Jorge's fraternity brothers had a place deep in the woods, on a lake, no other house for a mile around, and the party was to celebrate the end of school and our engagement. Just us kids; no parents. I'd met his frat friends often, some of them were mine too, and they were all very attractive guys. I liked their girls, too: all very nice and friendly, no jealous bitches in the pack. We'd all partied together often before, and I was looking forward to this one. We went into the house, a big vacation place with about ten bedrooms. There were a lot of people there, maybe thirty or forty, mostly couples, and we knew everybody. They'd been skinnydipping in the lake that afternoon before we arrived, and some of them were still wet and naked from the lake. This surprised me, but I figured it was okay. Jorge and I went outside to lie on a blanket down by the lake and look up at the incredible stars. A full moon was out, and it was really bright. We started kissing and feeling each other up, then Jorge pinned me down and smiled at me. "I'm going to fuck you now," he said. "I'm tired of waiting, and now I'm gonna pop that sweet little cherry of yours. We're engaged, so you're mine officially. I'm going to claim you right here, whether you want to or not." I gasped and struggled under him, but he held me down and pulled off my panties, then unzipped my miniskirt and pulled that off too. He tugged off my little poor-boy top, and I was naked on my back in front of him. "God, you're so beautiful, and I've been waiting for it so long...this is going to be so good." I still fought him, pleading and protesting: no, this wasn't the way I wanted it, please stop, don't do this. But he paid no attention and pinned my wrists over my head with one hand, and I realized that he was going to take me no matter what I said. He pushed my thighs apart with his knee, then unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. I'd touched it before, through his pants when we were making out, but I'd never seen it naked, or held it naked, even. It looked huge, and I wondered how he was going to get it into me. I started to scream for help, but he put a hand over my mouth. "Nobody will hear you, and they wouldn't help you if they did. Men won't interfere with another man while he's enjoying his woman. Rule of the pack." He didn't take his clothes off, but he laid his weight on me for the first time...it felt great...and started to bite and suck my nipples and grind his hips into me. There was something so exciting about him still having his clothes on and me being completely naked. It made me feel submissive, for some reason: that I was just there for his pleasure, that he could do whatever he wanted to me... Suddenly I felt an electric thrill shoot through me, right down to my crotch. He was a man who wanted to take me, and I was his woman. This was going to happen. And it was right. But I still fought, as I felt the tip of his rock-hard cock touching the entrance to my slit. It began to slide up and down against my slit, which was wet by now, much to my surprise, and then he found the opening and pushed it into me. I struggled harder, desperate now, trying to twist away from it. Jorge only laughed. "That's right, baby, fight me. Just makes it better, knowing I'm busting a reluctant virgin who's really not reluctant at all. Just wait till I'm in you. You'll see. You're going to be a great piece of ass." He thrust his hips forward, and I felt a small pressure and check as his cock hit my intact cherry. He gave another, more powerful thrust, and suddenly his cock broke through my cherry and he was deep inside me, plunging into me, filling me up. It was a strange sensation where nothing like it had been before, but it also felt completely right having him there. This is what a woman was supposed to do for a man, it's what she was made for, and she was never more a woman than when a man was using her. I knew that. But I was still fighting it, and fighting him too. He kept his hand over my mouth and my wrists pinned, so that I was helpless in spite of my struggles, his legs across mine holding me down, and he began to drive into my body, taking his time, slow and deep. "That's it, honey, it's done, you're not a virgin anymore," he growled into my ear, biting it. "You're mine now, Ronnie, all mine. My cock is in you, your cunt is mine. I raped you, it's over, now relax and enjoy it." He was right. I was all his. I'd never done this before, but somehow I knew what to do, and, my eyes locked on his, my breathing getting deeper, I started to push my hips up at him as he thrust rhythmically into me. He laughed with pleasure and increased the pace of his thrusting. "You're a natural slut, honey, I knew you'd get into it once I got into you...just let me ride you." By now I was feeling some amazing sensations. Here I was, in a totally romantic outdoor setting, completely naked, my boyfriend on top of me fully clothed, and he was fucking me for the first time, even if it was against my will. But could I really say he was raping me if I was starting to enjoy it? I looked down to see our bodies joined together, my breasts and belly white in the moonlight. I was a woman being taken by a man, being mated like an animal. As he kept thrusting, I felt the familiar feeling of fullness and strain in my pussy that I always felt when we petted really hotly. I heard myself moaning softly. Then suddenly it got more intense, and more intense still. Something was spreading out and up from my crotch, a feeling I'd never felt before, not like this. Jorge was pounding into me, and I brought my legs up around him. He let my hands go, and I clung to him desperately, my nails raking his back. "Fuck me, oh God, oh Jorge, I'm yours, fuck me hard!" Was that me talking? He laughed and scooped his arms under me, lifting me closer and tighter to him, both of us rocking with his driving motion, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. Then everything started to go black and starry, and I felt my whole body switch into automatic as a huge wave of hot melting pleasure swept up from my pussy and his cock. I cried out, and he did too, and we came together. He laughed gently. "Not bad for your first time, baby, not bad at all! Some women never manage to get relaxed enough to come. But you came with me; you're gonna be a great lay. Hell, you already are." We lay there for a while, then he pulled me up, swung me over his shoulder like a carpet and carried me into the house, still naked, past the party and up to a bedroom. "Now the real fun begins," he said, and he began lashing me to the bed with some scarves that were tied to the bedposts. I was startled, and again fought him, trying to sit up and get off the bed, but he was too strong. When I was naked and spread-eagled, stretched out so I couldn't move, he ran his hands over me. "This is how we do it around here. Once one of the brothers fucks his girl for the first time, he has to let the other guys have a turn on her. We've all done it. Share and share alike, that's our motto. They're all dying to pork you; they think you're a really tasty little piece." He grinned at the look on my face. "Don't worry, babe, you're gonna love it, I can tell. But just in case..." Quickly he blindfolded me and gagged me, with some more scarves. "It's better this way. Makes you feel even more helpless, which turns the guy on even more, and it turns you on too, plus you won't be able to tell who did what to you after. Now I'm going to go play with some of their girls while they're busy with you. You'll be fine. I'll see you later." Then he left me there. After a few minutes, I heard the door open, footsteps crossing to the bed. I was trembling by now, my belly quivering, and when I felt a hand on me I jumped and whimpered behind my gag. "It's okay, Ronnie, just relax. I'm not going to hurt you. But I AM gonna fuck you." I didn't recognize the voice, but he seemed to be a big guy, and once he'd stripped naked and gotten between my spread thighs I could tell he was tall, powerfully built, probably outweighing me by a hundred pounds, with a huge cock that was brushing against my bare belly. I still didn't know who he was. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, licking my neck and working his way down to my breasts. "We were getting tired of waiting for Jorge to break you in, we all wanted to ride you. It's going to be a great night..." I shivered as his hands slid down my hips to my thighs, then moved to the silky inner thighs. I could feel his fingers on my pussy, then his mouth was there, his tongue flicking my clit, his lips nibbling at me, sucking me, tongue pushing into my slit as he pulled me open for him. He shifted position then and mounted me, quickly fitting his cock at my cunt entrance and pushing in. He was bigger than Jorge, and I cried out behind the gag. Which only seemed to turn him on more, as Jorge had said: he began plunging into me like a piledriver, so hard the bed shook. Then I felt that electric thrill again as he fucked me, and began to push back at him. He laughed. "Jorge said you were a hot piece of prime fuckmeat, even if you did keep him waiting for it. You're obviously a quick learner for someone who just got her cherry busted, a natural little slut." And again we came together, he crying out hoarsely, me screaming behind the gag. Suddenly I understood why men liked to fuck women who were helpless under them: it was something primitive and primal, something from the caveman times. Men captured women to mate with, threw them down like animals and took them. Bondage, blindfolds, gags: that was all part of it, from those prehistoric days. And women responded to that. It was in our DNA: men took US. WE did not take THEM. We responded to strength and domination, and we enjoyed it. It was the natural order, and it worked for both male and female. Anyway, when he was done with me, he kissed me gently and tenderly on my mound, and left, and another guy came in to take his place on me and climb into the saddle... I lost count, literally, of the men who came to me, and in me, and over me, that night. Ungagged, I took cock in my mouth for the first time and a dozen times after that, felt my pussy eaten out a dozen times more. Then one of the guys untied me, flipped me over on the bed onto my belly, tied me down again and slid a finger into my ass. I was gagged again, and I cried out for him to stop, but he only drew some wetness back there from my cunt, and then his cock was pushing slowly into my ass. It hurt like hell, but he kept right on driving into me, until suddenly he was past the tight ring of muscle, his cock buried in my ass up to his balls. He pulled the gag aside, closed his hand around my throat. "You like that, baby? Tell me what I'm doing to you." "You're...you're fucking me in the ass..." I gasped. "That's right, slut, your ass is mine." Then he slowly thrust as deep as he could, pumping himself dry into my no longer virgin ass. As the night went on, I was even double and triple-teamed, and more: guys in my cunt and ass at the same time, guys in both those and my mouth too, while I held a hard cock in each hand squeezing them off. One of the guys untied me, put a belt around my neck and made me kneel on the bed, my ass in the air, raised by a pillow under me. My breasts and face were pressed into the bed, while he drove into my cunt from behind like a dog mating a bitch, pounding me until I screamed, pulling me back onto his cock by my hair and my arms pinned behind me, pulling the belt tighter until I almost choked. But for all the violence---never really violent, none of them hit me or hurt me, though one guy did use the belt on my ass and back a few strokes---Jorge was right. I loved it. I loved it all. I loved being used by men whose faces I couldn't see, whose cocks plunged into my soft wet cunt and took me as property. I wasn't a person to them, just a body, a helpless female animal, whose cunt and mouth and ass were there to be used for their pleasure. As I was fucked for hours, I kept fantasizing, though the reality was incredible enough: I was a slave forced to service gladiators, I was a captive being raped by soldiers, I had been sold to a truckstop brothel, I had been kidnapped and made into a concubine in a sultan's harem... Finally they were done with me; everybody had had at least two turns on me, some more than that, even. At last I was untied, carried into the shower, since I couldn't walk and could barely stand. Jorge cleaned me off tenderly, telling me how proud he was of me, how great I'd been, how super-fuckable, how beautiful. When he carried me back to the bed, there were clean sheets waiting, and he laid me down and we cuddled for a long time. "How do you feel?" he asked, kissing my shoulder and stroking my hair. "I'm not quite sure yet." I found myself yielding to his touch, even as we lay there; apparently I'd been well conditioned to respond. "But I liked it. You were right." "It's what women were made for, to please and serve men. Now your training will start." "Training?" "All the girls downstairs have been through this, and they've all been trained as slaves. I'm going to keep you here all summer, and train you into the perfect fucktoy, ready and willing to spread your legs as soon as one of the brothers snaps his fingers." "I could do that." I knew I could, too; it was what I suddenly knew I wanted. "There's just one more thing..." The next day, he took me to a tattoo parlor in the village, who was used to these commissions by now, and on my newly shaven pussy, right on the meaty curve, he tattooed the Greek letters of the fraternity name, marking me as an official frat fuckslave. So every time I looked at it, I would remember my "initiation"... It wasn't like being "pinned", the way other fraternity guys gave frat pins to their steady girls to wear on their sweaters. But somehow, I thought it was a lot better, and I was proud. Anyway, that was years back. As I said, I'm in San Francisco now, and a year ago I was sold as a slave to my master, whom I worship and adore. But that's how it all started... and there were more adventures to follow! Till next time, masters...your obedient slave, Ron-Ron.