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Chloe's Story Ch. 01

By: MandyM1



The Dilemma

As the tattooist's needle pierced my delicate skin and the painful process of inscribing the company logo above my bare pussy proceeded, I began to think again of all the chaos I'd recently caused. Derrick's bankruptcy and impending incarceration, the rapes of Carla and Amber, and the anguish that awaits my husband. I knew too what awaits me, the same fate that Belinda, my predecessor met. She would be sold, she was informed, but Mr. Stanford also gave her permission to take her own life, an option she accepted gratefully. But how had I come to this? How had I, a young and innocent bride until just eighteen months ago, come to be lying naked on a table about to be indelibly marked as "company property"? How had I, a unworldly, naïve, Christian girl, agreed to have my ass branded with Mr. Damon's and Mr. Compton's initials and so readily accepted my status. 

I don't know how I managed to get myself in this terrible fix. A mere year ago, I was a twenty-one-year-old, faithful wife. And only yesterday, I was sitting nude on the couch in Mr. Damon's office listening distractedly to him describing my present condition. Suddenly, I heard him abruptly stop talking and point suddenly at me. Looking down, I realize that I'd unconsciously crossed my legs. I instantly uncrossed them. I've been told many times that in Mr. Damon's or Mr. Compton's presence my legs are always to be open and accessible. Mr. Damon just shook his head in frustration at my stupidity, and continued on. I hadn't been listening, but I paid attention now.

"As you know, Chloe," Mr. Damon resumed, "Chuck and I have been discussing how we want you marked now for some time, and we've decided to move ahead. This weekend, a tattooist I've hired will come here and mark the area directly above your cunt with our logo, and just below that he'll inscribe 'Exclusive property of First Capital Investments, Inc.' On the following weekend, we'll both brand our initials into your ass. Do you have any questions?"

Though I knew this was coming, I couldn't really comprehend it. My attention was oddly captured by a tiny drop of cum glistening on my breast. It must have fallen there while I was cleaning Mr. Damon's cock. I absently mindedly wiped it and placed it dutifully in my mouth.

So I'm to be permanently marked as private property. How will I ever explain that to my husband? Maybe I never will. I know I'm going to be told to leave him, anyway, so what does it ultimately matter.

"No, sir," I answered. "I don't have any questions. "I suppose it will hurt a lot, won't it."

"Yes, I suppose it will," Mr. Damon answered sympathetically, "especially the branding. But you need to marked, Chloe. Both Mr. Compton and I agree on that, as does Mr. Stanford. I assume we have your consent."

"Yes," I haltingly said. "It's just that it will be hard to explain."

The pain of the needle inking my tender pussy suddenly made me begin to think about all that had led me to this tattoo parlor and the end of what little freedom I had left.

The Beginning of Something

Joey and I had been together since I was a freshman in high school and he a junior. We were never an "item." Neither of us was popular enough for that designation, but that's probably why we were always so close. I had been raised in a very strict and very Christian family, so I never was allowed to dress in any way that was fashionable. In my family, everything fashionable was "sinful," anything that would show any hint of my burgeoning body was "moral turpitude." I was frightened of sex, and the natural inclinations of a budding young woman that emerged at night in erotic dreams and longings paralyzed me the next morning. The pull of hormones tugging at my protective veil of Christian piety turned me into a reclusive young girl terrified of the changes her body and mind were going through.

Joey, though smart, was simply skinny and awkward and attracted no attention whatsoever. But I liked him. He was shy enough to never press me for sex and observant enough to notice the changes going on. We sort of became our own society and built a pretty strong bond. He was my only boyfriend, and I assumed that would always be the case, so upon my graduation, marriage seemed an easy and seamless step. We married shortly after I graduated. I was barely eighteen. Joey was twenty one.

Joey had gotten a job at a garage downtown shortly after his own graduation. He'd always been very good with his hands and automobile mechanics seemed to come naturally to him, so he did very well very early on. Unfortunately, he didn't make enough money for me to pursue my dream of a college degree in English literature, so I found work as a receptionist at a stock brokerage firm in town with hours flexible enough for me to take some early afternoon and evening classes at the local college.

I'd always done well in high school, especially in my English classes, where the romance of books could shield me from the drabness of the real world I lived in, and my English teachers, most notably Mr. Barnes, all took an avid interest in my education. I say Mr. Barnes most notably because he alone also seemed to take notice of me as a woman, a "blossoming" woman, as he would sometimes put it. It was terribly flattering, exhilarating actually, to be noticed the way he noticed my changes.

I truly was blossoming. My body began to change most dramatically in my sophomore year when Mr. Barnes first met me, and by my senior year, when I enrolled in his honors lit class, I knew, even if no one else did, that I had a fabulous body. It embarrasses me now to think of the hours I spent in front of the mirror admiring the new fullness of my breasts, the waspish size of my waist, and the full and erotic curve of my hips or the hours afterwards when I would reprimand myself for my hideous depravity. My breasts were probably a little too large for my frame, but it really didn't matter because I was also painfully shy from early years of being "plain" and so intrinsically fearful of "damnation" as well, that in public, I took pains to cover up all of this "blossom" that only Mr. Barnes appeared to see.

After graduation, life began to change pretty remarkably. More and more people began to take notice of me and to remark on my appearance, some of it nice, some of it creepy. On countless occasions, I noticed men following me around the supermarket and not infrequently at the local mall, too. I was still quite shy about all this obvious attention and quite certain that the temptation I felt to flaunt my body was the work of the devil, but I was also oddly flattered and exhilarated at the same time. I even found myself occasionally giving in to the devil's temptation and "posing" for some of the guys I knew were checking me out, and then feeling ashamed moments later when I'd remind myself that I was now a newly married woman. But I had to admit more and more that I enjoyed being looked at.

Later that summer, I had my hair cut into the more flattering shape my hair dresser had been recommending and let him colored it a much lighter shade of blonde than my natural ash. The hair style and color proved perfect, complementing my face, drawing attention to the fullness of my lips, and emphasizing what I'd always thought to be one of my better features, the deep hazel hue my eyes,. With Joey's encouragement, I bought a new and more flattering wardrobe. Skirts a little shorter and tighter, sweaters a bit clingier and lower cut, and an attitude a little less meek and retiring, but by no means arrogant or showy. A different woman was emerging from her chrysalis. 

A Trip to the Mall

It's interesting, now that I think back on it, how important to our future one afternoon and one outfit became to the new me. And to the new "us."

It was a warm early spring afternoon the following year. I was lounging around the apartment in sheer tights and a light sweater when Joey asked me to run over to Sears at the mall with him to get some tool he needed for work. I said, sure, but I needed to change first.

"Nah, come on. You look fine. It's only Sears," he said distractedly.

"I don't have anything on under this, Joey. Don't you think I should at least put on a bra?"

"Nobody will know. Come on," he said, seemingly exacerbated at my reluctance. 

"Okay," I said, suddenly feeling a very unfamiliar but erotic sensation. I'd never been out of the house without a bra. Regardless of what Joey might think, sans bra, my boobs were certainly going to be noticed in this outfit! And for some sudden and inexplicable reason the whole idea seemed exciting! I wanted my boobs to be noticed! "Let me grab my shoes," I said, trying to tamp down my rising excitement.

The first shoes I came to were totally inappropriate—four inch, black stiletto pumps I'd bought for the senior prom last year. And that's what I picked.

I threw on a little wind breaker and ran out to the car where Joey was waiting. He gave me the strangest stare, and his "Ready to go?" had an odd excitement to it. A sort of sexual tension that I immediately got caught up in as well. Maybe he wasn't so "distracted" as I thought. We rode to the mall in a strange silence, tinged with what I could only sense was sexual stimulation mixed with anxiety. 

As we got out of the car at the mall, Joey suggested I leave the jacket in the car. I hesitated a second, afraid that Joey would be embarrassed by what he would now clearly see was my almost blatant nakedness beneath my tights and sweater, but I did as he asked. Neither of us said a word as we walked to the mall entrance, but I could see Joey stealing surreptitious glances at my boobs bouncing tantalizingly under the tight sweater as I walked in those totally inappropriate but sexy little pumps. I should have blushed, but instead I was as keyed up as I'd ever been.

In the mall, it was apparent that not only Joey was watching and admiring the body walking beside him. I thought he'd surely see the commotion I was causing and be uncomfortable or self-conscious, but he didn't seem to be. In fact, he seemed to be suddenly quite possessive, as if he wanted everyone to see that the little "sexpot" next to him belonged to him. I could sense his heart beating faster. I was puzzled, but interested, too. This seemed so unlike him.

I began to be a little more overt, just to see what happened. I deliberately paraded my body, transparently expressing my sexuality in the most obvious manner. The more obvious I became, the more excited Joey became. And so did I.

For the next month or so, every time we'd go somewhere, at Joey's implicit suggestion, I'd dress in some similar fashion. He never asked outright, he was still too shy for that, but I could see by his reaction that he wanted this to continue. So I accommodated him...and me! I showed more and more flesh in what I wore. More leg, and definitely more boob. Each time we went out, I'd ratchet it up just a teeny bit, so by midsummer, when we went out, Joey had a very sexy young "slut" hanging all over him. 

Joey grew increasingly happy with the new me. He'd never been much noticed in high school, but now he was getting noticed for his "bitch," as he put it one night. And he loved it! More and more!

I don't deny that I did, too. I loved the attention and most of the comments I'd overhear murmured under a guy's' breath. Our sex life got better when Joey began to encourage me to tell him about the guys who'd look at me and at what I'd overhear them say. I learned early on that, if I embellished the stories, our sex was even better.

I began to wear sexier clothes at work, too, shedding the drab, loose-fitting blouses and sweaters and the long granny skirts for a more modern look that highlighted my figure a little more and drew attention to the body beneath. Nothing was inappropriate, but fortunately for me, since contemporary style the last few seasons so emphasized the breast, I could be quite innocently sexy and provocative. And naturally, the looks and compliments I got at work were translated into much more flirtatious and more tantalizing remarks about what was said and done later in the bedroom to Joey. Our sex got better and better.

We even discovered porn, which at first embarrassed both of us, but soon became another part of our weekend love making. Joey became quite intrigued that nearly all the porn stars kept themselves totally shaved, and I agreed that it was a very sleek and sexy look. At Joey's urging, I soon did the same, and loved the feel of Joey's touch on the silky smooth skin of my tight young pussy. Joey came almost to depend both on our occasional porn movies and even more on the stories I'd embellish for our sex life. 

At first, he'd want to know who "liked" me at work and who "wanted" me the most. Later, he'd ask me who I was most attracted to, and though I was reluctant to say anything at first, when I discovered that even an innocent preference for one of the guys increased his performance, I subtly began to admit to certain preferences. If my stories required considerable variance from the truth, they were also extraordinarily hot...for both of us!

As things progressed, I began to give Joey little fashion shows, shows that always turned into sexy little strip teases. Joey would name all the guys he knew who would "die to see this," guys at work who had made comments about his "hot wife." He suggest that maybe we should tease them that way sometime, and I'd go along with it, shaking my boobs and wiggling my ass, pretending I was in front of them. It was all harmless fun. 

We began to take fun "risks," making our sex life a little more dangerous. I had this cute mask that I got at a party shop for Halloween last year, and one night I became the "mysterious lady" who seduced my husband in our bed. Joey loved it! Then one weekend afternoon, I walked out onto our patio completely nude with the mask on and Joey again just went wild. 

The next day, we drove out to his mother's house to water her plants while she was away, and Joey surprised me with the mask. He wanted to take pictures of me. Outside! Totally nude! I probably too readily agreed. The idea was exciting and dangerous, the great aphrodisiacs of our sex life.

We went out into his mother's backyard, where I sexily stripped for him. I was so excited because it seemed so perilous. Though trees surrounded the yard, I was certain we were clearly visible from the street. But I posed nonetheless, my heart pounding and my excitement peaking. Later, we made love right there on the little love seat we had dragged out for the pictures! That was truly risky and terribly thrilling.

That night, Joey drove me home nude, which was a bit more frightening than I wished at the time, but we ended up doing it again on two other occasions, one time stopping off to neck in the park. We were just two kids, discovering the sex life we never had in school.

We had a party one Saturday night and invited some of Joey's friends from work. Joey dressed me in something totally inappropriate, a teeny, tiny little Lycra micro mini, fishnet stockings and a bustier! I looked like a hooker, but Joey told me the next day that his friends at work couldn't stop talking about how hot his wife is. I got really icy stares from the wives all night though, and I'll bet they were talking about me in a very different fashion the next day. But I didn't like any of them anyway, so no loss. 

This sort of thing went on for the better part of the year, and for a time, it was enough. We were still experimenting with sex and with what we'd become. That was especially true for me. I became increasingly proud, maybe even a little conceited about my appearance, which led me more and more to encourage Joey to show me off. I don't think I was really sluttish, but I knew I was becoming somewhat of an exhibitionist. And it was fun!

I would still have occasional devastating attacks of guilt and remorse, thinking I was becoming a terrible harlot, but they grew less frequent in time, until eventually I quit beating myself up morally and eventually even stopped attending church altogether. Maybe that was a mistake.

The Club

Early the next summer, a package arrived in the mail for me. It was from an online dress store, some place called "Wicked Temptations." I hadn't ordered anything online, and even though it was addressed to me, I decided not to open it. I showed the package to Joey when he came home, and he laughed and said he'd ordered a dress for me as a kind of joke.

"Here, take a look," he laughed, opening the package and passing the dress to me. "Try it on."

"Try it on?" I said. "There's hardly anything to try on," I laughed, holding up this little fluff of material. "What were you thinking?"

Of course I did know what he was thinking. Our latest adventures had shown me that. But the closer I looked the more intrigued I became both by the dress and by the fact that Joey had purchased it "for fun." It looked extremely revealing, to put it mildly, and really, really sexy. And I did want to try it on, maybe more than he knew, though I pretended not to.

"Oh come on, Chloe. Try it on. It's no big deal. It might be fun."

"You are so silly, Joey," I laughed. "Okay, you wait right there and I'll give you a fashion show!"

I went into the bedroom, quickly stripped off my work clothes, and held the little dress up against my naked body. There wasn't much of it there. It was completely backless and short, and appeared to have a deeply plunging cowl-neck front. An eye-grabbing red, it was composed of a synthetic silk fiber of some sort that was slippery smooth and luxurious to touch. It excited me merely to look at it, and I actually trembled when I slipped it on. I was astonished when I turned to look in the mirror.

Stunned and excited, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and blood rushing to my face as I glanced again at the girl in the red dress. The dress was not only tight, it was impossibly tight, and clingy, adhering itself to every curve and crevice of my body. And it was not only short, it was exceedingly short, falling only a few inches below my bottom and hugging it provocatively. It dipped so low in the back that a good part of my butt was clearly visible, as was the sides of my boobs. 

But it was the front that was most shocking. It was a simple cowl neck, but it plunged well below my navel and was wide enough to display almost the entirety of my breasts. No matter which way I'd turn, more would be displayed than covered. Walking, it was almost impossible to keep myself from spilling out with any step whatsoever, especially given the size of my boobs. It was like wearing water. At every step, some part of my body spilled out. Leaving me literally on complete display. I looked desirable and available...very available! 

I could never wear it in public, unless I were to stand immobile, but how I wished I could, because I had never, ever looked or felt so sexy. I just couldn't wear it in public.... I was determined, though, to let Joey persuade me otherwise!

I walked back toward the front room trying my best to stay in the dress. Entering the room and standing provocatively in the doorway I said, "If you want me to wear this, I must have better shoes!" trying to sound sexy and sultry but bursting almost immediately into a giggling fit.

"Goddamn it, Chloe! You look freakin' hot. You could wear it at some of the clubs over in Bayside," he said, after some hesitation, his voice cracking just a bit.

"You're not serious, I hope. I could never wear this in public," I said, hoping he was serious. I really wanted to be seen in this stunningly sexy excuse for a dress.

"Well, why not?" Joey answered, looking me up and down. "You really do look outrageously hot, Baby. It could be fun if you would. I'll help you pick shoes," he laughed.


Chloe's Story Ch. 01



"I'd be arrested if I wore this!" I smiled. "But it would be fun, wouldn't it...?"

We were in bed within minutes and had terrific sex fantasizing about me in that outrageous little dress. I was a little vixen in bed, and our sex fantasy that night was very persuasive. I wanted to be seen in public in that tantalizingly sexy little dress!

Nothing further was said about the dress for a week or so, but the next day, I bought the perfect pair of shoes for our little fantasy dress, red six inch sling-back heels, but I never said anything to Joey about it.

On Friday, a week later, Joey suggested we go out to one of the clubs in Bayside, The Blues Baby, one we'd heard about but never visited. It had a reputation as a pick-up club, and though both of us knew that, neither of us mentioned it. An odd choice, I thought, but a curiously exciting one, too.

"Maybe I'll wear the dress you bought me," I joked.

"Well, maybe you should," Joey replied, not looking directly at me.

"Do you have sufficient bail money?" I grinned.

"Oh come on, Chloe. It's not that bad," he answered, apparently seriously. "You see lots of that in the clubs around here. I mean we're not in the Midwest."

"Do you really want me to?" I asked, hoping so much that he did.

"Sure, why not. You have the body for it."

"I couldn't wear a thing underneath it, you know," I said, my voice betraying my excitement at the erotic danger.

"We're young and we've never done anything like this before. The guys at work all do this sort of thing all the time, you know, go out, drink, dance, show off their wives or girlfriends on the dance floor. None of them have what I've got, so I'd like to show mine off too."

"You don't dance, Joey. You hate it, as you've told me countless times."

"But you do, and I wouldn't mind watching. Watch guys eat their hearts out wanting what I have. Come on what do you say? We've always talked about being 'bad.' Let's just do it once."

"Are you really sure, Honey? Do you remember what I look like in that dress? I'm practically nude!"

"I do remember, Baby. That's why I think it would be like totally hot, let the jerks at work see how hot my wife is."

That remark surprised me a bit. He wants to show me off to his coworkers because it reflects well on him, I thought. I'm not a complete feminist, but enough of one to know objectification when I hear it. I was about to say that that was maybe a teeny bit offensive, when it occurred to me, that perhaps, for once in my life, I wouldn't mind being an "object," something for guys to stare at and ogle. Not at all!

"Are guys from work going to be there?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. Let's just do it regardless, okay."

"Okay, Joey, if you're really, really sure. But this is kinda more than we did last summer. I really cannot stay inside the dress you bought, you know. Every time I move something spills out," I said seriously.

"I'll be right there. It'll be okay. You really do look hot, Babe," he answered bravely.

I had serious doubts about Joey's ability to rescue me from any serious trouble, but I just let it go.

"Okay," I said. "If you're really okay with this, I guess I could try to be your little sexpot this weekend," I went on, trying to be less of a cold blanket. "You can have fun showing me off. I'll be happy to have you display me, okay. I think it could be lots of fun, too! You're right; maybe we're too conservative sometimes."

I took Friday afternoon off from work to have my hair and nails done, and spent the later part of the day on my makeup. Joey had counter duty at work that Friday, so he wouldn't be home until 9:00, so I had plenty of time to muse over the evening ahead. Unfortunately, the more I mused, the more nervously excited I became, so to calm myself down I made myself a vodka tonic.

I tried the dress on a half dozen times, posing in various positions. I soon knew what every single movement and angle would reveal. None were modest! Dancing, if I decided to, would be particularly precarious, because there was hardly a step, especially in these six inch stilettos, that didn't almost instantly expose me totally. There would be very little left to the imagination of Joey's coworkers, if what I expected to happen did happen.

By the time Joey got home, I was a little bit tipsy, but also much calmer and braver. I wasn't dressed yet, but I had only to slip out of my robe and into that excuse for a dress to be ready.

Joey showered and dressed and by a little after 10:00 we were ready to go. I slipped on the dress, wearing only very, very sheer red thigh high stockings beneath, and with the help of four vodka tonics, said sexily, "What do you think?" thrusting my boobs in his face. 

"Wow, Chloe. I guess you look a little more on display than I thought."

"Too much," I asked hesitantly, terribly afraid he was about to back out. I'd do anything I could to prevent that. "Will it bother you for the guys at work to see your wife like this?" I asked, hoping the idea of showing me off would make him determined to let me wear the dress.

"No, I guess not," he replied a bit uneasily. "None of the guys at work are going to be there anyway, far as I know. You do look good. You have a beautiful body. The dress looks a little different tonight though than it did when you first tried it on."

He was right that the dress looked slightly different. I was nearing that time of month, and my boobs were easily a full cup size larger than when I had first modeled the dress for him, so the dress covered even less now than it did when it stunned him with its brevity before. I was, shall we say, utterly and totally on display!

A great surge of relief went through me when I heard him agree that I looked good and he was, if not completely comfortable with the way I was dressed, at least willing to go along with it. I desperately wanted to be seen in this hot little outfit, for once, to be the object of desire. It was truly like a coming out for me.

The club turned out to be great! It was dimly lit and "bluesy," the bar was filled but not cramped, and the crowd was a good mix of young and old. We found a couple of great seats at the bar near the dance floor and ordered drinks. I was only nineteen at the time, and afraid I'd get carded, but apparently the body on display in that teeny, slinky red dress proved identification enough. 

Feeling sexy and sophisticated, I ordered my first martini. It turned out to be way strong! I was feeling the effects before I finished the first one, especially after all I'd had to drink while getting dressed. I knew my inhibitions were slipping away when I noticed the cowl neck on my dress had shifted dramatically to the left exposing my boob to just beyond the edge of my nipple. I saw that Joey noticed, too. But I didn't do anything about it except grow progressively more excited. The same was true for him.

"I'd really like to dance, Joey. I wish you would," I pleaded in his ear, bending over to expose that same breast entirely to him and anyone else who cared to look.

"I suck. I look totally stupid trying to dance. You know that. Believe me, somebody will ask you."

"Not with you sitting there," I pouted.

"What, you want me to leave?"

"Not leave, but maybe like just go to the bathroom for a few minutes and see what happens, okay? I really, really feel like dancing. And you said you want me to, right?"

"Yeah, I do. Okay, but don't get too crazy," he said. "But maybe a little crazy," he grinned.

"Okay, but like don't come back right away. Give somebody a chance to pick me up. Then you can 'rescue' me, k?" I said more keyed up and eager than I should have been.

I smiled back at him wickedly and winked as he left for the bathroom.

The second he was out of sight, I sat back in my chair and let the dress do what it wanted, and what it wanted was to exhibit me to the world. Exactly what I wanted, too!

The bartender brought me another martini. "From the guy over there," he said, eyeing my exposed breasts while pointing to an older guy, maybe late thirties early forties, who was nodding at me.

I smiled back at him, turning slightly to let the dress gape open again.

He seemed content to just stare at me, so I made sure he had an awful lot of flesh to please his eye. I was sitting so that from his angle, nothing whatsoever covered my breast. I smile temptingly.

As he rose from his seat and walked over to me, I turned slightly in my chair to greet him, and with a little tug, helped the hem of my skirt steal to the very top of my thigh. It didn't have far to go! 

As he neared me, I recrossed my legs enough to let the skirt ride half way up my hip and briefly expose the nothing I had on beneath. I smiled enticingly. I was being terribly bad, I know, but I was also in such a sexy mood. Blame the dress, what little there was of it.

Instead of asking me to dance, however, he sat down beside me.

"You are the most compellingly attractive woman I've ever seen," he said sincerely. "I'm glad I came here tonight."

"Well, thank you," I said, demurely but not excessively so. The hem of my dress was at the very edge of my vagina now. I subtly inched the dress up just slightly beyond the edge, almost unable to breathe now. "I'm Chloe," I said with bated breath.

"I'm Brad. Who's the guy with you?"

'Oh, that's just a guy I know," I lied.

"Is he going to be upset I took his seat?"

"Maybe a little," I smiled, watching his eyes bathe my body. "Wouldn't you be?"

"I'd be devastated," he laughed.

"You from around her?" I asked, moving enough to let the dress slip just that fraction of an inch needed to demonstrate clearly what lay at the very top of my thighs.

He put his hand on my knee and I smiled at him and sat back in my chair. My left breast was totally exposed. I waited a bit before I bothered to "notice" it and fix myself. His hand moved to mid thigh.

"No, I'm from out of town. Here on business," he answered. "Hot little club," he added glancing around the room, "but there's nothing hotter than you tonight."

I took a large sip of the martini. "Thanks for the drink," I said. "It's very strong, but I like it."

"It impressed me when the bartender told me you were drinking straight up martinis. Not really a girl drink," he went on. "I had him make you a double."

"It's just right for my mood tonight," I laughed, opening my legs enough to invite his hand further up my thigh.

The back of his hand was brushing against my slightly exposed labia when we both noticed Joey slowly coming back to the bar. If he came up and spoiled this, I would just die. I shook my head quickly at him.

"Well, why don't you dance with me before he gets back?" I said, nodding at what we were both watching. "Then he can have his set back and you can have me," I said sexily, pushing my vagina hard into his hand.

"Love to," he said, not moving his hand. "Finish up the drink."

I gulped the drink down, nearly choking in the process, and managed to purposely drag the bottom of my dress nearly to my waist as I arose from my seat. Standing I struggled to pull the dress back down, entirely exposing my very wet, silky smooth vagina while untangling myself from the chair. It was quite a show! And I'm certain Brad knew it was deliberate!

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joey watch me as I flounced to the dance floor.

The dance floor was crammed, which kept me from being the frenzied slut I felt inside, but not so crowded that I couldn't continue to show Brad all there was to see. When the tempo slowed, I shamelessly collapsed into his arms. The double martini had put Joey far from my thoughts. I knew I was getting myself in trouble, but I just didn't want to stop.

There was an absolute crush on the dance floor, which I hoped was shielding my behavior from Joey. As I pushed myself into Brad's body as the music slowed, Brad effortlessly moved his hands from my shoulders to my bare breasts, and as he began lightly to pinch my stiffening nipples, I knew I was in trouble, trouble I was going to have a hard time getting out of. I didn't really care. Not at that moment.

"You have an unbelievably sexy body," he said, staring into my eyes, "and a face to match. It would be a real pleasure to take you home."

I had opened for him entirely, let him assume I was his for the taking. I hadn't made one move to stop his enjoyment of my body. And I was in deep, deep trouble.

I realized the only way out of this dilemma was some semblance of truth. I told him that the "guy I knew" was actually my husband and that he insisted on taking me out to show me off and that he encouraged this kind of behavior. Brad asked me if I didn't think that was cruel teasing, and I admitted it was, apologizing and telling him that if I had my way, I would deliver what I promised. 

He just left it at that and took me back to the bar where Joey was waiting, but whispered in my ear as he was leaving, "you're a little cock tease." That hurt. I was so terribly frustrated and so embarrassed that I told Joey I wanted to leave. I stole a look over at Brad as we left and the look he returned told me how pathetic he must think the two of us. And he was right!

In the car, I recovered myself somewhat and told Joey a made up story about what happened, something about the guy wanting me and me telling him how hot my husband was. Something like that. Anyway, it worked and we had a good night in bed, though the man who was fucking me in my fantasy was not Joey!

Five-Year High School Reunion

Joey's five-year high school reunion was coming later the next month, and though he had initially not planned on attending, he was suddenly quite eager to go. I had a feeling I knew why. He wanted to be noticed for his "arm candy," a phrase he'd used a couple of times in the last few weeks. I was okay with it. I liked a lot of the people in his class, and in truth didn't at all mind having a few of the people who snubbed Joey see what his old girlfriend looks like now. Vain, I know, but I think understandable, too, if you've ever been to high school. I thought this could be a very fun night for both of us.

When I told Joey I wanted to find a really special dress for the reunion, he surprised me by insisting on coming along. And it pleased me, too. I liked the idea of the two of us sort of planning our "revenge." Silly, I know, but kind of fun, too. We visited half a dozen stores before we found just the kind of dress that I had in mind and that I knew would fit Joey's new image of me.

I liked the dress the moment I saw it hanging on the rack. I was a simple white knit long-sleeve dress with a scoop neck that buttoned all the way down the front. The kind of dress that is demure (a modest top) but sexy (mid thigh length). It was just exactly what I had in mind. Joey was not at all impressed at first, but I wanted to at least try it on. In the dressing room, I was pretty sure Joey would change his mind when he saw it. 

The knit material was delightfully sheer and clingy and hugged my body flawlessly. Because I'm a teeny bit top-heavy, the dress was even tighter across my bosom than my hips, and tugged precariously at the buttons. Unbuttoning the top two loosened the dress perfectly and allowed just enough boob to spill out to make the whole ensemble charmingly tantalizing without being vulgar.

As I guessed, Joey was more than pleased. That night in bed, he couldn't stop talking about how hot I looked in our new reunion dress and what a spectacular sight I'd make. Early in the night, he wanted me to promise I'd flirt, but by the time he'd "warmed up," he wanted me to go a bit further. The point was to make all the guys who'd snubbed him be jealous of him now. I agreed to everything he said, knowing I wouldn't actually follow through. It seemed harmless fun at the moment.

I spent virtually all of the day of the reunion doing girl stuff—getting my hair and nails done and shoe shopping. By the time I got home, Joey had already had a drink or two and had one waiting for me. He was very excited and his excitement was infectious.

Dressing was exhilarating. I had bought a pretty lace push-up bra and matching panties. I was going to wear white pantyhose, but decided last minute on white thigh highs with an elegant lace top band instead.

When I came out to present myself to Joey, he was even more excited than I expected. He looked me over carefully, turning me around slowly. And then he said with a distinct quaver in his voice, "You'd look better without the panties. You can kinda see the panty line."

"You want me to take them off," I said. "Won't it be obvious that I don't have anything on?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Why don't you just try it and see? Maybe try it without anything, like maybe no bra either?"

I looked at him strangely. He was obviously very keyed up and maybe a little tipsy, but somehow the danger of the suggestion excited me, too. I'd try it.

In the bedroom looking at myself in the mirror sans bra and panties, I knew Joey was both right and wrong. The dress was much sleeker, more form fitting, and infinitely more alluring with nothing underneath. But he was wrong about it not being obvious that there was nothing beneath the dress but flesh. It was very obvious!

The more I looked and posed, the more I wanted to wear it exactly this way nonetheless. I have never looked so captivating or felt so tempting. Or been so brazen! This is the way I was going to Joey's reunion. I just hoped he'd agree.

The second I stepped out of the bedroom, I knew this look might be too much, and I think if Joey had been completely sober, he might have objected. But a couple of vodka tonics had made him more courageous than he might have been otherwise, and though he hesitated a bit, he said that I looked really hot and sexy. I noticed his hands were shaking when he said it, however. I sensed he might be a little apprehensive about this in-your-face sexuality, but by that time, I was so into this new me, that I chose to ignore it.

As we checked in at the reunion desk, I clearly heard a guy behind us say, "Is that Chloe Wills? Man, what a change! She is smokin' hot!" I hoped Joey had heard it, too. My confidence soared, as you might imagine.

As we walked to the open bar, I got so many openly admiring stares and not a few murmured guy-type compliments ("Jesus, what a babe," "Goddamn, that bitch is hot," that sort of thing). We were going to find a table, but decided instead just to hang around the bar for a while. After another vodka, Joey whispered shakily for me to unbutton one more button. That one more button was going to put a lot of bosom on display, but I went ahead and did it anyway. Joey couldn't keep his eyes off my chest. I liked that. 

Moments later, Derrick Carter walked up to the bar. Derrick is a guy I had a major crush on in high school. Joey hated him, for good reason. Derrick was big, a three sport letterman, stupid and a bully. But oh my god was he handsome! He still made my heart quiver. 

In an English class in Joey's senior year, Derrick had given a totally stupid answer to some question, and Joey had corrected him. Right after class, Derrick had grabbed him, and right in front of everyone, including the teacher, had "bitch slapped him." Then to make his humiliation complete, he had his girlfriend, Teri Bales, slap him, too, which made everyone, including the teacher, Miss Martin, laugh! Though Joey doesn't know this, I was walking down the hall at the time and saw it too. I felt so sorry for Joey. It was just so totally degrading and demeaning, but to my shame, I also felt this intense desire for Derrick right then. To do something like that right in front of the teacher was pretty gutsy. He didn't seem at all bothered by authority, and at that time, I found that really appealing.




Chloe's Story Ch. 01



"Hey, Joey," Derrick smirked, walking brashly up to the bar and putting his hand on my shoulder. "Your date looks great," he added, openly looking up and down my body. "Didn't you go to Central High, too?" he asked, turning to me.

"Yes, I did. I was three years behind you guys. I'm Chloe, Joey's wife."

"His wife, huh? You got yourself a hottie, Joey. Funny I never noticed her at school. Good seeing you again," he said, looking at me and not Joey.

"Asshole," Joey said under his breath. I could see he was visibly relieved when Derrick left. We could both see him checking us out from his table just across the room. 

"You blew him away, babe," Joey said. "He couldn't believe I've got such a hot babe. Look at that thing he's with."

Derrick was with his girlfriend, Teri, who had put on a little weight since high school. She was still very attractive, but she'd been sensational in school, and now was moving pretty quickly toward fat. Conceited of me to say, I know, but she was certainly no longer any competition. I saw Derrick stealing long glances at me. I liked it! A lot!

A few couples had started to dance, and more were moving toward the dance floor, when Joey turned to me and said, "If Derrick asks you to dance, do it, okay. I want him to see how much hotter you are than that bimbo he's with."

It all abruptly came clear. Teri was the girl every guy in school was so hot for when we were in school and the girl who had completely humiliated Joey in the hall that day when Derrick held him while she slapped him to the amusement of everyone watching. He desperately wanted to show Derrick up. And maybe Teri, too.

"You sure?" I asked. I was more than willing, but didn't want to show it. 

"Yeah, do it. Like turn him on and then just like walk away from him!" he said, his speech slurring slightly.

Very weird on Joey's part, I knew, but I really wouldn't mind dancing with Derrick, though it didn't seem likely to happen, not with his girlfriend right there. 

"Do you want me to try and make that happen, like get Derrick to dance with me?" I asked.

Joey hesitated long enough to let me know he wasn't too sure about that, but instead said, "Sure, why not, the asshole." Having seen the way he ogled me, I had a pretty good idea that I could help it along.

So a few minutes later, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Walking by Derrick's table, I looked him directly in the eye, and very slowly and deliberately but coyly, licked my upper lip, and then bent over to check my shoe, showing Derrick the treats available if he asked. That's all, but I had no doubt he got the message. Whether he would act on it was another matter.

Back at the bar with Joey, I kept looking over at Derrick, making him aware that I knew he was there and that I was "interested." I also tried my best to make the boob that Joey had wanted displayed as enticing to Derrick as possible. A few twists in the chair helped clearly send the message I wanted.

A few moments later, I saw his girlfriend along with two other girls at the table get up to go to the bathroom. They weren't gone a minute before Derrick walked over and said to Joey, "Mind if I dance with your wife?"

Joey just shrugged his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant, but visibly nervous...to me at least. Derrick seemed oblivious, and simply ignored Joey. "Care to?" he asked extending his hand.

"Sure, why not," I said, smiling and letting my dress creep high up my thigh as I slid off of the bar stool. Derrick just brazenly put his arm around my shoulder as he led me to the dance floor

I'm a good dancer and the disc the DJ was playing was really good dance music. I did exactly what Joey wanted. I showed Derrick everything he'd ignored in high school! I danced with what I guess you could call controlled frenzy, enough so that at times, I thought I might spill entirely out of the top of my dress. Derrick's eyes rarely left my chest.

And then trouble came.

After a series of really hot dance tunes, the DJ shifted tempo to a slow and erotic Byonce hit, and as I turned to go back to the bar, thinking Joey would not want me dancing a slow number with Derrick, he quickly grabbed me and pulled me right up next to him. He wasn't letting me go, and I confess I wasn't at all unhappy with that.

One slow tune turned into another. I worried about what Joey would think, but when I felt Derrick growing tense and excited as he pushed himself harder against me, I couldn't stop myself from responding. When his hand slip inside my dress and cupped my breast, I surprised myself by just melting into him. A second later he was caressing my throbbing breast and stiffening nipple. Though I was suddenly terrified of the consequences, I didn't resist at all.

As the dance ended and we parted, I realized in alarm, that Derrick had managed to unfasten the entire top of my dress.

"What have you done," I asked, stupidly, giggling and quickly buttoning back up. "You've almost totally undressed me!"

"If we'd had one more dance, I would have opened it totally," he grinned. "Maybe next time. You have terrific tits, by the way."

I just smiled at him, said "thanks, I hope there is a next time," and walked back to Joey, glancing at Derrick over my shoulder and winking at him once.

Back with Joey, I made up some terrible lies tailored to make him feel that he got his "revenge" and that Derrick was now extremely jealous of him. Joey was dunk enough to buy it all. In fact, he was immensely pleased with me and told me so. As I was puffing up Joey, I noticed that Derrick and Teri seemed in the middle of a spat of some sort, and maybe a half hour later I noticed that she had left and didn't seem to be coming back.

It was getting late in the evening now. Joey was drunk but still reasonably aware, and I was preening like mad for him. I'd unbuttoned another button, showing enough cleavage now to make me the decidedly fine arm candy he coveted, and draping myself all over him to reinforce his sense of ego. But all the while I was stealing glances at Derrick and he at me. A half dozen of Joey's old "friends" dropped by to check us out. I danced with a few of them and flirted with all of them. Joey was on top of the world.

Around 1:00 a.m., the DJ announced last dance, and I saw Derrick get up and start walking over toward us. I was frozen in anticipation, frantic at the thought of what Joey would say if he'd ask me to dance and distraught at the thought that Joey might refuse. 

"Joey," I said. "Derrick's walking this way. I know he's going to ask me to last dance. What should I do?"

"Tell the jerk, no," he said petulantly.

"You sure you don't want me to make him super jealous this time?" I cooed. "I think his girlfriend got all upset he danced with me last time and just left. Isn't that cool? I could really seal the deal this time, just make him so, so envious," I added, rubbing myself up against him.

He hesitated a second, but said shakily, "Jesus Christ! Okay, do it! Really make him jealous this time!"

"Okay, Joey, but are you sure?" I asked, afraid he might change his mind. "I'll make him really jealous for us, okay?! And you're sure, right?"

"Yeah, sure, do it!"

"Hey, you mind if I borrow your wife one more time?" Derrick asked coolly as he leaned against the bar. I could see he was more than a bit drunk.

Joey just nodded his head as if to say go ahead, not looking directly at him, and Derrick escorted me to the dance floor.

Joey had likely forgotten, but I hadn't, how long these last slow dances went on. I was tipsy and thrilled in Derrick's arms, and it became increasingly obvious that Derrick was more than tipsy and way more than thrilled to have me there. We staggered more than danced.

"Did Teri go somewhere?" I asked innocently.

"Yeah. She went home pissed off!" he slurred.

"Oh, really? What was the matter?"

"You were the matter," he said, pulling me tighter against him. "I kept telling her how hot you were and what a great body you had. She got pissed off."

"Oh, God, Derrick. That was not a very nice thing to say to your girlfriend!"

"You upset that I did?" I felt his hand snake under my dress to once again enfold my breast.

"No, not really, I guess," I said seductively. "Maybe I like it. Did you know I had just the most outrageous crush on you in school?" I whispered in his ear and pushing my body hard against his.

I had no idea why I said such a thing. It was totally improper, and a stupid invitation to trouble. I can only say that the alcohol and the mood and Derrick's hand again on my bare breast provoked inappropriate emotions.

"Wish I'd known. If you had the body you have now, I would have known!"

"I did have. Maybe even better. I just kept it covered is all."

"Your husband is a fucking fool to let you out of his sight, you know. You're way too hot for that wimp."

"Don't be mean," I said.

"Did he ever tell you about the time I bitch slapped him in the hall?" he smirked.

"No, but I saw it. You made Teri slap him, too. Everybody thought that was so funny. I guess it was. But it was like so, so mean, too," I giggled. "He looked so terrified when little Teri was slapping him over and over that you just couldn't help laughing. I should never ever admit this, but I was laughing too. It was just so ludicrous to see this little girl slapping this guy while he cried. Even Mrs. Martin was laughing!"

"Yeah, I saw that. Your little bitch boyfriend was crying, and every time Teri slapped him all the guys would go 'boo hoo!' It was very fucking funny. Mrs. Martin was cracking up. I fucked her, you know," he added casually.

"Yeah, I guess everybody heard about you doing her. You got her pregnant, too, right?. That's what everybody said anyway."

"Yeah, I did. Her husband knew I was fucking her but still thinks the kid is his."

"Well you are a dangerous guy, Derrick," I laughed. "And I know you're going to be very dangerous for me, aren't you. You know why Joey wants me to dance with you?" I added. 

"No, why? He must be fucking crazy is all I can think."

"He wants me to make you jealous that he has a hot wife. He thinks that's how he can get back at you and Teri for what you guys did to him. I guess it worked on Teri!" I smirked, grinding my body against Derrick's. "She must be really upset," I said as invitingly as I could. I could feel Derrick's cock hardening against my thigh.

I know I shouldn't have told Derrick any of that. It was such a betrayal of Joey and made him seem just utterly pathetic, but I was just totally into Derrick at that moment and wanted to make him know it.

"What a dumb fuck. You're right it was fucking hilarious when I bitch slapped your little pussy husband and maybe I should do it again tonight," he snorted. "What do think?"

"Well, if you really wanted to, I guess it would excite me. You know I wouldn't do anything to stop you, that's for sure, but don't you think holding his wife's bare tit in your hand is worse than a bitch slapping?" I moaned into his ear. "Or undressing her right here on the dance floor?" I added, taking his hand from my breast and putting it on the next button of my dress. "Isn't that what you said you were going to do? That's so much better than just bitch slapping him, isn't it?"

"Yeah, maybe it is, and I did say I intended to undress you right out here on the dance floor." 

"Yes, you did," I moaned into his ear. 

A moment later, I felt my dress come apart and Derrick's hands cupping my bare ass. "I'm going to fuck you, too," he said.

"Yes, I know you are. And soon, too. Oh, God, Derrick," I whispered in his ear. "You have no idea how I used to dream about something like this." I could feel his hardness pushing against my naked belly now. I reached down to touch it. It was impressively large. "I want you inside me!" I whispered in his ear.

I could hold the dress together somewhat with the inside of my arms so that I didn't appear publically nude, but I was bare naked to Derrick. And I could see that a few of the couples around us were aware of that. I didn't care. I could feel the heat of his body on my exposed skin.

"I need to fuck you tonight," he gasped, reaching down to stroke the silky smooth softness of my exposed and willing sex. 

I pulled his head down to my anxious lips and kiss him, moaning as I flicked my tongue in and out of his mouth, "Yes, I want you, too," I sighed heavily. "I want you to fuck me, Derrick. Desperately!"

"Lose the wimp! Let me fuck you tonight!" he demanded, moving his hand to cup my velvety vagina. I wanted frantically to obey.

"Oh, Derrick, I can't," I gasped as his finger slipped deftly inside me. "I'm with my husband. You know that. How can I?"

"Lose the wimp!" he repeated even more insistently, his entire finger inside me now.

"Derrick, I can't. You know that. But we will. Soon. I promise."

"Do you want me?" Two of his fingers were deep inside me now, caressing my quivering clit.

"Oh God, yes, Derrick, I do. Really do. Can't you tell?"

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

My answer was to kiss him hard while I mumbled into his mouth, "Yes, I want you to fuck me, Derrick. You know I do!"

"Call me," he said.

"I don't have your number," I whispered.

"Do you have something to write on?" he asked, taking a pen from his jacket pocket.

I shook my head no.

And then he did the most outrageous, sexiest thing I've ever heard of. He took my breast in his hand and wrote his number on it! There was no doubt at all now that the couples around us were aware of what Derrick had done. I stood there totally exposed as Derrick wrote his cell number on my breast while I swayed in front of him.

The dance was coming to an end, and I had to now contend with the fact that my dress was completely open and people were openly gawking.

"Hold me while I try to get buttoned up again," I laughed nervously.

"Why not just let me walk you out of here naked?" he grinned. "You'd knock 'em dead!. Then I'll fuck you!"

"Oh God, Derrick, I wish you could. I really want you. I promise next time you will," I answered breathlessly, hastily buttoning up again, this time clear to the top. Derrick's number on my tit isn't something I wanted anyone to see.

Joey was a teeny bit peeved when I got back, but a little too drunk for it to last. Rubbing up against him lasciviously and telling ego inflating stories did the trick. We were soon again acting the hot shot and his arm candy.

At home, after rubbing Derrick's number off of my tit and into my address book, I gave myself totally to Joey, while in my fantasy I gave myself to Derrick. But it would be a fantasy, I promised myself. Though there was no question of my desire, I hoped fervently that he wouldn't call. I couldn't fall that low.

Work Days

In the weeks prior to all of this, work had been hectic. The firm was preparing to make a bond offering for a water works company and there was considerable anxiety and consternation about it that I frankly did not totally understand. What I did understand was that I was expected to stay late and join in the frantic pace of the coming weeks.

I really didn't mind. There was something fun and exciting about the chaos and the strong camaraderie that ensued. Having never been through one of these events, I was attracted to the strong bonding that grew stronger as the issue date approached.

All this frenetic energy all around me happened to coalesce with what was happening to me at home. Joey's obsessive interest in exhibiting me, his growing attention to my clothes, and new found insistence on my public sexuality, had come to produce profound (and welcomed) changes in me and how I felt about myself.

I was so much more confident about my overall appearance, but especially about my body. It was such a strange transition. I had become a chrysalis, exchanging my old drab, figure-obscuring wardrobe for the clothes Joey approved of now. And I felt a corresponding change deep inside of me. A new and much more confident woman was emerging, one who could admit to the growing sexual nature inside her that Joey had, intentionally or not, released. And sadly, a sexual tension Joey was less and less able to satisfy wholly.

So maybe a more shameless woman was emerging, too. In the past few weeks, two different men had not only seen my naked breasts, but fondled them. One man had undressed me in public and written his cell number on my breast! Worse, I had no regrets, none at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. I liked being looked at. I liked being the object of men's fantasies. I could never go back to the old me.

The clothes I chose to wear to work more and more began purposely to evidenced the body beneath. I wore thin lacy bras when I wore one at all, and thongs or more often, nothing at all under my short tight skirts and dresses. I grew to love the feeling of being utterly naked beneath my clothes, and the less I wore underneath, the more guys stared, and the more guys stared the more I liked it. So like in classical psychological conditioning, I tended more and more to wear less and less. In short order, I not only became comfortable with but actually came to crave guys staring at me. I especially liked it when my two bosses noticed and complimented me on my "fashion sense!"

The week after Joey's reunion was the week the bond issue was due, and to put it simply, it was utter chaos and frenzy. And it was terribly exciting. Everyone was working to near exhaustion, especially my two bosses, Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, and me. We'd work well past 6:00, go for a quick dinner, come back and work until 10:00 or 11:00 many nights, and then just collapse in the conference room amid the mess of brochures and prospectives. Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton would then pour themselves brandy and we'd all just relax and compliment ourselves on how hard we work. The first time they offered me a glass, I refused, but at their insistence I later accepted. In the days following it became a sort of ritual, and one I looked forward to.

The day of the bond sale was the most hectic of my life, and it was sometime near midnight when all the work was finished. I was truly grateful when the day ended and the three of us gathered in the conference room to celebrate. We were drinking and laughing and enjoying the success of the weeks of hard work, and I was in an ebullient mood, made even better by Mr. Compton's telling me how proud they were of my dedication and work ethic and that there would be a significant bonus for me as a result.

I was totally relaxed and extremely happy. The brandy had never tasted so rich and smooth. I felt wonderfully close to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton right then, and I could sense they felt the same way. We finally could relax openly and celebrate the success of the bond sale. 

I was growing just a teeny bit inebriated when Mr. Damon asked me if I'd ever tried cocaine. 

"No, " I said. "Never."

"Care to? Matt and I are going to do a little. It's sort of an energy boost. And God knows we could all use that right now!"

"I don't know," I said apprehensively. Isn't it illegal?"

They both just laughed. "Come on, Chloe, give it a try with us. We're all partners here."

I didn't know how I could actually refuse being a "partner," so I said, okay, I'd try it.

Mr. Damon laid out three lines and showed me how to snuff it up my nose without sneezing. It burned at first, and I couldn't really see any great effect, so they had me do it two more times. About ten minutes later I just felt this burst of energy and this general sense of euphoria. I was happy with them, with myself, with the world! 

"Like to dance, Chloe?" Mr. Damon said casually.

"I do," I said, "and I'm quite good at it too," I added immodestly.

"I'll bet you are. Why don't you show us a few of your dance moves. I'd find it relaxing to watch a pretty girl dancing right now. How about you, Matt?"




Chloe's Story Ch. 02



"Fuckmeat," I heard as I answered the phone. "I want you to get the tightest pair of jeans you own and meet me at Bright Rite Cleaners over on Parkway Avenue in the mall there. Meet me in twenty minutes."

It had been two days since Derrick had taken me in the bedroom where I now stood, hoping Joey didn't overhear this. I had spent two days shielding my marked ass from Joey, having to make up an excuse for sleeping in panties. I had pled a headache to avoid sex, but couldn't keep this up much longer.

I had mentioned to Joey that I'd heard on the radio that Derrick was having a grand reopening at his car dealership and that we should stop by. He wasn't too excited about that and remained noncommittal, and I knew that unless I had sex with him and get him excited about making Derrick jealous again, really jealous this time, he would ,first, have no interest in going and, second, never let me dress the way Derrick demanded. This would take serious planning, but I was determined to make it happen. I could not disappoint Derrick.

I met Derrick at the cleaners. He introduced me to Mrs. Lee, an older Chinese woman who the owned the place and who was apparently Teri's seamstress.

"I Miss Teri's tailor," she said. "She so skinny now. I fix all her clothes. You Miss Fuckmeat, right?" she said in her odd but quite distinct pronunciation.

I blushed beet red and Derrick laughed out loud. "Yes," I said nervously looking about me. 

"Go back there and put those jeans on and this tee shirt," Derrick ordered. "I want Mrs. Lee to alter them for me." 

The tee shirt Derrick handed me was what in girl speak we call a "wife beater," and it was very well worn. I struggled into the jeans I'd brought, which fit me like they were painted on, and pulled on the tee shirt. It was tight over my boobs and so worn and sheer that it was virtually translucent. I felt nearly naked walking back out to the fitting room.

"Let me show you what I want," Derrick said to Mrs. Lee. "I want the tee cut off about here," he pointed, tracing a line just below my boobs," but don't hem it. "And then I want the jeans cut off like this," drawing a line that swept up my butt and clear to the waist band on my hip and down again to the front. "Don't hem that either, but cut the pockets off and sew them up." 

Turning to me, he said, "Wait for these. I'll call you later."

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Lee returned with my "ensemble." "These very small, Miss Fuckmeat. You show lots!"

I started to tell her that my name was Chloe, but thought better of it and left.

At home, I tried on Derrick's outfit. The jeans were now shorts cut so high that the lower part of my butt was clearly visible as was the very edges of my little cuny. The tee fell to the bottom of my breasts, but barely. In the mirror it was dramatically evident that there was nothing underneath any of this but bare tits and ass. There was no way Joey would let me wear this, I thought, even though I knew that somehow I would have to make him let me.

For some inexplicable reason, I threw both the jeans and the tee into the wash, set the water temperature to hot, and washed both three separate times and dried them in the sun. When I next tried them on, the shorts had shrunk so that they were almost impossible to pull over my hips and button. It took seemingly forever to wriggle into them. The edges were now perfectly frayed, and even more revealing. In the hot wash, the tee shirt had shrunk enough to reveal fully a half inch of flesh at the bottom of my breast and had become transparent to the point of being literally see thru! I had simply made things worse. Or better, depending, I guess, on who was looking! I knew Derrick would love what I'd done, and Joey wouldn't, but I threw everything in the hot wash again anyway!

I took the risk of Joey getting to see Derrick's message on my ass, the one that said he owned me, and naked in bed, told Joey how proud it made me when he would show me off, and how it would be so outrageously hot for him to make Derrick jealous again, and how terribly much I wanted to be his perfect sexpot that only he could have. It seemed to be working, and I sealed it all with outrageous sex.

Joey had agreed during our very hot sex and sex talk to let me dress in anyway, but when I slithered into my now impossibly tight jean shorts and pulled the truly obscene tee over my heaving breasts and presented it all to Joey the next afternoon, I was pretty sure from his expression that this was way, way too much. It probably was. It was 1:00 in the afternoon and I was dressed for the streets at midnight. But I needed to wear this for Derrick. And would!

"Maybe that's just a little too much, Chloe?" he suggested timorously.

"Lot's of college girls dress like this," I said defensively.

"You're not a college girl."

"But I'm that age. Why can't I show off a little," I said, forgetting that the whole idea was for Joey to show me off, not the other way around. "And don't you think this would really drive Derrick crazy?" I said, changing course. "He would be like so, so jealous of you," I cooed, climbing up on his lap and sticking my boobs in his face. "You could just show me off so perfectly, right? Your hot little sexpot wife? All that stuff we talk about?

I could see he was still reluctant.

"Then I'll do anything you want afterwards, k?" I cooed. "You can take me anywhere, and I'll behave just like you tell me." I could see he was torn now, and I just held my breath.

"Okay, but we can't stay long. Like right in and right out, okay," he said apprehensively.

A great flood of relief engulfed me. "Right, that's perfect. Right in and right out! Just enough for him to see what a hot babe you've got, okay."

Still, there was considerable tension in the car as we drove to Derrick's dealership. Walking to the car I couldn't' really keep my boobs from bouncing or the tee from riding up half way up my bosom and revealing more and more with each bounce. I should have worn something other than heels, I knew instantly, but I also knew heels would be what Derrick would want. I sat quietly in the car for the ten-minute drive. 

At the dealership, my nipples stiffened almost instantly. I wanted so badly for Derrick to see and appreciate his property strutting proudly to him. By the time we reached the front door, I knew the tee had ridden higher up my boobs, but I was momentarily shocked to see my moving reflection in the window. The entire underside of my tits was prominently displayed and each step revealed more than a hint of nipple. I tugged it down as best I could, but two more steps into the showroom once again found my tits put totally on view for all who wished to see. This was apparently to be their natural position now for the slut I'd become.

The showroom was more crowded than I hoped. There were maybe fifty or sixty people of all ages and types. There were mothers and fathers with little kids, a bunch of serious business types, some pretty teenagers serving cups of lemonade and plates of little sandwiches. I got very ugly stares from the women and quick and furtive glances from the men before they all quickly averted their eyes. There were also half a dozen young guys obviously on the prowl, and it was only in that crowd that I wouldn't stand out disturbingly. I was terribly uncomfortable.

Fortunately, Derrick saw us almost immediately and guided us away from the throng in the showroom. The look on his face as he checked me out erased all my discomfort.

"Hey, you two. Glad you could come by," Derrick said, looking only at Joey now. "It's funny," he went on, "I was just thinking about you last week, Joey," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

When, I thought, while you were fucking me in his bed?!

'Yeah?" Joey said.

"Yeah, I heard at the reunion that you were into auto mechanics, and since I remember you as one of the smartest guys in school, I'm guessing you're a damn good one. I'm looking for a shop manager, a guy who can run the books and offer a little help on the floor when necessary. Don't suppose you'd have any interest in an interview."

He was playing Joey like a maestro.

"I'm pretty happy where I am, but you never know."

"You into racing? We've thinking of putting something together, probably some dirt track to start and then move up a little," he said, baiting the trap. I had told him the night he fucked me that Joey was into racing.

"Yeah, I sort of follow the cars now and then. What are you building?" Joey said, suddenly warming to Derrick.

He had hit all of Joey's buttons. Called him smart, said he was needed, offered a car to work on. I could see that Joey was hooked.

Two very attractive young girls, neither of whom could have been more than eighteen years old, walked up to us, and Derrick introduced them as Carla and Amber. Carla was a striking redhead in the shortest miniskirt you could imagine, and Amber was a perky blonde in shorts and a camisole that left her midriff bare and cut low enough to amply display her firm, full breasts. I watched Joey puff up a little when Amber said she was so glad to meet him and that Derrick had told them how much he'd hoped he'd come. How he could fall for that I don't know, but he did. Carla was also flirtatious, but it was obviously Amber that caught Joey's attention. 

"Why don't I let Ramal show you around the shop real quick. Chloe can wait up in our "VIP" lounge. It's best not to have women out on the floor when were working, especially pretty ones like you wife. Dangerous business!" he said, putting his shoulder around Joey's shoulders and beckoning to Ramal. "Ramal, take Joey out to the shop and show him around a little. Tell him what a great place it is to work. Carla, you take Chloe up to the lounge and get her comfortable."

It apparently had worked. Joey turned and asked if it would be all right to leave me "just for a few minutes." I replied, "Sure, I'll be okay. Take your time," and watched him being led out into the garage like a lamb to slaughter. 

It surprised me that Joey would leave me dressed the way I was. I was for all intents and purposes nude...and would be soon! Derrick would see to that. But the car was apparently more alluring at the moment.

"Let's go up to my office. You look fucking hot!" Derrick leered, patting my ass. Turning to the girls, he told Amber that he was taking me up to his office and that when Joey is finished in the garage, she should "entertain" him until he'd finished with me. He told Carla to go back to the lounge until he called her. Both girls gave me just the snootiest look.

Derrick's office was in the middle of the second floor and overlooked the showroom on one side and the garage on the other. The blinds were all raised on the windows, so everything going on was clearly evident. 

The door hadn't closed behind us before Derrick ordered me out of my shorts, to check that his message proclaiming my ass and cunt to be his property were still there. They were, in all their glory.

"You might as well take the top off, too, though there will hardly be a difference," he laughed. "How the fuck did he let you out in public that way?"

I just shrugged my shoulders and displayed my tits as ordered.

"Turn around and put your hands on that rail there and take a look down in the garage. See Joey down there? If he looks up, he'll see your tits in the window, but he'll just have to guess that my cock's in your cunt," he grinned.

I dutifully turned to the rail and grasped it with both hands, my vulnerable breasts on exhibit for all who chose to look. I spread my legs at Derrick's brusque command. He impaled me on his astounding cock a moment latter. I knew he preferred silence, but I couldn't help the impassioned, fervent moan that escaped my lips as his cock slid effortlessly into my wet and aching cunt. "Oh my God, Derrick, I love your cock inside me!" I whispered breathlessly. "So, so much!"

It was a quick fuck, but the mere thinking of Derrick and craving his gorgeous sex all morning had prepared me thoroughly. There was no need of foreplay. I was ready when I walked in. When he erupted inside me I met his ejaculation with an astonishing climax, all the while watching Joey lusting over some racecar Ramal was showing him on the floor. When Derrick finished with me, I simply collapsed on the floor, engulfed in the intensity of my climax.

Derrick was on the phone. "Carla, tell Ramal to come up to the office, and then bring me one of those bottles of solvent from the storeroom." Turning to me, he said, "Stay here until I come back, and stay the way you are!"

"You mean naked," I asked.

"Of course I mean naked, cunt! What else would I mean?" And walked out the door.

He apparently met Carla coming up the stairs, because I heard him say, "just go on in and put the solvent on my desk. It's for the bitch inside."

Carla came in, looked at me with amusement, and said, "Hi, I'm Carla."

Carla was astonishingly beautiful, with long red hair, green eyes, and a perfect body. She couldn't have been more than eighteen at best, but looked wise beyond her years.

"Hi, I'm Chloe," I responded.

"Oh, really? I thought your name was Fuckmeat. I'll have to tell Derrick that he has your name wrong."

I blushed in absolute humiliation. "No, please don't tell him that," I whimpered

She laughed and walked over to the window. "I saw you come in. Where on earth did you get that vulgar outfit you were wearing? Amber and I just burst out laughing when we saw you. We both said, 'Oh my God, what was she thinking!' At first I thought the guy with you had to be your pimp, but then Derrick said that he's your husband! Is that him on the floor leaving with Ramal?" she asked.

I glanced over. "Yes, that's him."

"Was Derrick fucking you while he was out there?"

I simply nodded yes.

"God, what a tramp you are!"

"Who's a tramp," Derrick asked, coming back in the door.

"Fuckmeat is, who by the way says her name is Chloe!"

"Well, she lied to you," he said, staring hard at me.

"Shouldn't liars be punished?" Carla asked provocatively.

"Maybe you're right, he said. Addressing me, he said, "Fuckmeat, did you deny your name?"

"I guess so," I whispered softly.

"Hmmm, that's bad, very bad of you. Come over here and take my belt off. I think you could use a little leather on your ass," he said. "Turn around and show Carla your ass message!"

Carla burst out laughing. "Oh my God, Mr. Carter, that is so outrageous. Does her husband know that's on her ass?"

"I don't know. Ask her."

"Does he, Fuckmeat?" Carla asked?

I nervously shook my head no.

"The belt, Fuckmeat," Derrick said sternly.

Upset and agitated, l removed his belt, handed it to him, and bent over the table as he ordered. The two vicious lashes he quickly delivered hurt intensely and immediately brought tears welling to my eyes.

"Now, what's your name?" Derrick asked.

"Fuckmeat," I replied, sniffling. "Tell Carla what your name is."

"It's Fuckmeat," I said softly, addressing Carla.

"You should whip her tits, too," Carla suggested. 

"God, you are a sadistic little bitch, aren't you Carla. Here you can do it," he said, handing her his belt.

"Oh, thank you!" Carla said excitedly. Okay now, put your hands over your head, Fuckmeat," Carla added pleasantly. "God, this is going to be so much fun," she said to Derrick, who smiled back at her.

I looked at Derrick, but he only nodded his head and told me to put my hands over my head. I raised then dutifully and closed my eyes. Both of Carla's strokes landed across my nipples. I whimpered in anguish, not wanting to express the burning, horrid pain shooting through my breasts in front of Carla.

"She closed her eyes," Carla said. "Can you make her keep her eyes open and let me do it again?" She asked sweetly, pawing at Derrick's chest..

"Sure, why not. Have fun. Keep your eyes open this time, Fuckmeat," Derrick instructed, laughing and squeezing Carla's boobs.

The door opened and a black man, apparently Ramal, entered just as the belt in Carla's hands descended again on my breasts, but fortunately missing the nipple this time, while leaving two more deep red welts. I screeched in pain and fell to my knees.

Derrick pulled me to my feet immediately, and turn me to face the large black man who had just entered the room

"Fuckmeat," Derrick said, "this is Ramal. He was babysitting your husband while I fucked you, and I want you to thank him." 

Through tear streaked eyes I saw the very large, obese, and greasy black man who had just entered. He was staring hard at me and putting chills of disgust down my spine.

"Oh, man, Boss. That is some fine looking pussy you got there. Fuckin' tits on that bitch! Those muthafuckers be huge! Man, I'd like a piece of that white pussy," he mumbled, reaching out to fondle my breasts.

"All of you will get to fuck her later on, but right now you're going to have to settle for a blow job," Derrick said, and grabbing me by the hair, he led me over to Ramal. "On your knees!" he ordered. "Get his cock out and thank him with your mouth."

Disgusted and scared, I knelt in front of Ramal and began to fumble with his pants. He was even fatter up close, and smelled of food and sweat and engine grease. It was just awful. I unzipped him and pulled his cock from his pants. Like a black snake uncoiling, it began to stiffen in my hands. I looked at Derrick, who simply gestured for me to take Ramal's cock to my mouth.

His cock looked foul and crusted with what was likely the juices of his recent lovers. I sensed that he had not bathed in some time. But nauseated as I was by what was in front of me, I deliberately took it to my mouth and began to suck his engorged penis. His gross belly hung directly over my head.

He moaned and uttered something unintelligible to me, but something that made Derrick chuckle, and I continued to draw him deeper into my mouth. Ramal was disgusting in every way imaginable, but I needed to please Derrick. At the moment, that was all that mattered.

I worked hard, hoping that Ramal would soon climax and free me from this horror, but he seemed intent on prolonging my misery, taking long and slow thrusts into my sickened mouth.

Suddenly, Carla was behind me. She grabbed the back of my head and slammed it forward onto Ramal's cock, driving it completely down my throat. "That's the way you suck cock, you stupid tramp!" she exclaimed. 

I heard Derrick roar with laughter and felt Ramal groan in pleasure.

With his cock now deeply embedded, Ramal began to fuck my mouth in earnest. I was choking, gasping for air, and filled with utter repulsion. "Just please finish," was all I could think.

And finally, after five or more deep hard thrusts down my throat, he ejaculated! I heard Derrick instructing me to "swallow every drop," and I tried desperately to do so. He filled my mouth to overflowing and try though I might, some squirted from my mouth and dripped to the floor. 

When Ramal withdrew, I felt an intense sense of relief, and ironically, even pride in doing something so horrid for Derrick.

Carla walked over near me, and pointing at the ground, said, "Derrick, she's made a huge mess on the floor."

Tell her to clean it up," he said. 

"Cunt," she said, "Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes," I answered. "Could you get me something to clean it with?"

"You've got something to clean it with," she smiled sweetly.

I looked up at her puzzled.

"Your tongue, Fuckmeat. Clean it with your tongue!"

Dismayed, I looked over at Derrick.

"Right now, Fuckmeat. Do what Carla tells you to. Clean it before it leaves a stain!" he demanded.

I nearly retched as I lapped up Ramal's cum from the floor, convinced now that my degradation was complete.

Finished, I just burst into tears. I was barely aware that Derrick had ordered Carla to "clean my ass" with the solvent she'd brought with her. It burned like fire and I know she intentionally rubbed some of it inside me.




Chloe's Story Ch. 02



Carla and Ramal left, and Derrick walked over and picked me up off of the floor.

"Derrick," I sobbed, "You really humiliated me. Why did you do that?"

"Come on, Baby, you pleased me. You passed the test. I know your mine now." And then he squeezed my tits hard and called them his. It was the perfect thing to say and do.

"You let that awful bitch whip me," I sniffled.

"It's okay, Chloe Baby. You'll whip her soon, too."

He had called me Chloe and Baby twice now. Not Fuckmeat. I wanted to kiss him and tell him I loved being his property but he wouldn't let me. I guess it was because he thought some of Ramal's cum was still in my mouth. I did hesitantly beg him to be more careful with his property. He said he would. I doubted he meant it.

"Listen, Baby," he said. "I'm having an end-of-year barbeque out of my place next weekend. I want you and Joey to come and I want you find a bikini that will blow everyone away. You look way hot when you came into the dealership today, Baby, but I want you even hotter next weekend. Got it?"

I smiled up at him through still wet eyes. "Got it," I whispered, so happy to know that he still wanted and appreciated me.

We went downstairs where Joey was waiting, my boobs nearly bouncing out of Derrick's top on the way down. I hoped the welts on my tits would disappear soon. But I was proud again. I actually missed the marks of Derrick's ownership on my butt.

When we entered the room where Joey was waiting, the first thing I noticed was Amber with a strap of her camisole dangling down one shoulder exposing nearly all of her breast on that side. Carla was there too with her little miniskirt hiked high up her thigh. Both were obviously flirting with Joey.

"Joey," Derrick said. "I'm having a little get together next weekend. Try to come by, okay?"

"Oh, do," Amber said eagerly, bending down in front of Joey, her full breast heaving provocatively in his face. "It's so much fun there. I know we'll all have such a great time. Really try, k?"

"I'll try," he said, smiling at her. I could see his eyes glued to her chest.

In the car, Joey asked me what I was doing up there, and I told him the lie Derrick had instructed me to tell, that he was urging me to help him convince Joey to take a job with him.

"You were up there alone all that time dressed like that?" he asked.

"No, Carla was there most of the time. "What were you doing with that tramp you were sitting with?" I asked, quickly changing the subject."

"Amber? I think she was flirting with me," he laughed, "but I don't know. She kept saying how hot you were. She said she and Carla were blown away by the way you dressed and carried yourself, and how they both loved how you weren't at all self-conscious about looking sexy. She said they both thought that if they had a body like yours, they'd always dress like that! So, I guess I'm glad you dressed that way," he smiled at me. "I like having the hottest woman!"

I knew from what Carla had said earlier that that was the lie Derrick instructed them to tell, but it seemed to have worked. Really worked! 

"What do you think about the party at Derrick's place next week? I think he really wants you to work for him, you know."

"Yeah, I'll think about it. He's not such a bad guy, I guess. We probably should go just to be polite."

Oh, Joey, you are such an innocent fool, I thought.

"I'll need a new bikini if you're going to keep up the image you have," I grinned. "You know, the guy with the hottest, sexiest chick," I laughed.

"Yeah, maybe," he said somewhat seriously. "You sure did look hot today, and I guess that's what this crowd likes. I loved that those two girls were jealous of you. Maybe Derrick's got them, but I got these," he preened, reaching under the tee to fully expose my boobs to the traffic around us. "I say go for it. You're better looking than any of those chicks. And you're mine!"

"Better than Amber?" I teased.

"Way, way better," he beamed.

 The Party

I wasn't sure how little I could get away with bikini-wise, but I knew I had to have something pretty skimpy to please Derrick, and I wasn't going to find that at any local shop. Plus, I was going to have to get Joey to go along with something that probably was going to be very, very close to total nudity. I thought the best thing to do would be to shop on line and get Joey to participate.

I found a ton of bikinis on line that perfectly fit my growing sexuality, my burgeoning need to exhibit myself in front of powerful men, but one in particular caught my attention. It was a string bikini that was almost entirely string, except for a tiny sliver that would cover little more than the slit in my vagina and two petite patches that would certainly cover no more than my nipples. I could see myself in it, virtually nude for Derrick, exactly the way he had ordered me to dress.

I got Joey to look at it and a few other far less risqué but certainly not modest suits. Joey thought the one I wanted was a bit too much, but he did like one of the others, a string bikini with slightly better coverage. After some discussion about the fun it would be to wear the teeny one I wanted around the house, I ordered it and the another more modest suit that Joey assumed I'd wear to Derrick's party...and that I hoped I would not be wearing.

I modeled both for Joey after a particularly hot night out, and though he loved the way I looked in the hot little one I wanted to wear and even agreed that it would be awesome for me to wear it to the party, I could tell immediately that he was not going to consent to this when he was sober. I didn't bring the subject up again, but on the afternoon of the party, I slipped into the outrageous string bikini Derrick would want me in, but covered it with a sarong tied tightly across my bosom. The sarong was sheer enough so that the outline of the bikini was evident on close inspection but not totally out there. I held my breath as I walked out to tell Joey I was ready.

I could see that he knew what I was wearing underneath, but apparently the sarong made him comfortable enough to somewhat hesitantly not object. After all, he must have reasoned, he could always have me keep it on.

It was one of those wonderfully warm, sultry, late afternoon Indian summer days. The drive and street in front of Derrick's place was packed with cars, many quite expensive, I noticed. I could feel apprehension growing in my chest as I anticipated Derrick's greeting. I had somehow to let him know that the sarong covered exactly what he had ordered and that it wouldn't be there for long. 

We walked into a vibrant party. People were already dancing to a very good DJ, some of the women quite suggestively. There was a game of volleyball going on in the pool that was really an excuse for horseplay, most of it involving throwing girls up in the air hoping they'd lose their tops in the process. In the first few minutes we were there, I saw that the tactic was more often than not successful! 

We wondered about uncomfortably at first, since we didn't know anyone there. Shortly, though, Amber appeared in a tiny little thong and wet tee shirt.

"I lost my top in the pool," she giggled to Joey. "Come help me find it! Oh, hi Chloe," she said over her shoulder, while tugging on Joey's arm.

The bitch was just so blatant! Joey looked at me in dismay.

"Go help the poor girl," I said, assuming that this is what Derrick would want me to say.

Not at all reluctantly, it seemed to me, Joey walked off with Amber toward the pool, and shortly after Derrick appeared at my side.

"Amber should keep Joey busy for a while," said. "You better be wearing very little under whatever that is you have on.

"Maybe you should check and see," I said sultrily. "It unwraps rather easily!"

I had hoped he would unwrap me right there, but at that very moment, Teri appeared at his side. She looked fantastic, much like she had in school. The pounds she'd shed had come from all the right places, leaving her boobs round and full and her hips and butt sensual and alluring. Her waist was again that school-girl waist she was so proud of in high school. I felt dowdy in this stupid sarong and wanted desperately to strip it off.

"Nice that you could make it, Chloe. Derrick didn't tell me he'd invited you," she smirked, obviously impressed with the way she looked. 

"I think he actually invited Joey," I smiled. "He wants to discuss a job with him. I just sort of tagged along. Hope you don't mind," I added somewhat aggressively.

"Oh, not all, Chloe," she smirked again, looking first at her own beautifully displayed body and then at my fully covered one. "Not at all!"

She pulled Derrick away with the need to "meet someone." The bitch, I thought. I decided to go see where Joey was. I got two large drinks from the bar and set out to find him.

I found Joey sitting at the edge of the pool with a drink already in his hand. Amber had apparently located her top and was again in the pool displaying her ample charms to everyone, but I thought especially to Joey. I sat down beside him. I knew he would never go in the pool. It wasn't likely that he'd even brought a suit. He was painfully shy about his thin, frail body.

"Everybody seems to be having fun," I said easily to Joey.

"Yeah, they do," he answered.

"Amber seems to have developed a crush on you," I laughed, just as Amber again briefly lost her top.

Joy just laughed. "She sure likes to show her rack!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, she does, doesn't she? There are a lot of hot girls here, don't you think," I said, nudging him and nodding at Amber. "Maybe she's afraid of the competition." 

"Yeah, maybe she is and yeah, there are a lot of hot chicks here," he said, "but none hotter than you!"

"Have you seen Teri?" I asked. "She really looks good. A lot better than when we saw her at the reunion."

"She looks like she did in high school," he said, distracted by Amber's cavorting in the pool. Some big hulk had just thrown her squealing into the air. Her top came apart when she hit the water. I thought she was very slow to refasten it.

"So I guess Derrick's got his hot body again," I said. "I guess he won't be jealous of you now," I sighed. "A lot of these guys have really hot wives and girlfriends."

"Yeah, I think a lot of them must have money. You see the cars out front. That's probably why they've got the girls they have."

"Do you want another drink?" I asked. I really wanted Joey to get maybe just a little less cautious about showing me off. "I'll go get us a couple more, k?"

"Sure. I'll be right here."

I wondered back to the bar, and decided impulsively to retie the sarong about my waist. If nothing else, I could at least show my boobs. I saw two guys give me decidedly admiring looks, and as I waited for our drinks, one of them walked up and asked me my name.

"That's a pretty sensational top you're wearing," he said, openly staring at my boobs. "Not many girls could wear that!"

"Thank you," I said, not at all modestly. I enjoyed his stares and tried to show him so.

"You here alone?" he inquired.

"No, my husband's here."

"You're married?" he asked. "You don't look old enough to be married."

"I'm nearly twenty one," I said.

"Well, he's a lucky guy. You've got a beautiful smile...and a body to match."

"Thank you again," I said hoping to sound mysteriously seductive. "You're kinda cute yourself."

I found Joey again and handed him his drink. It was his third, and that seemed enough to make him less startled by my almost bare tits.

"Wow!" he said hesitantly. "I didn't know you wore that."

I know he did know. He just didn't want to acknowledge it yet.

"Do you like it? Do you think I look as hot as Amber now," I giggled.

I could see he was uncomfortable, so I decided I'd wait until the effect of the next drink hit before trying to get out of the sarong entirely.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait at all. The big hulk who had been throwing Amber up in the air decided to do some stupid cannonball right in front of me, completely soaking the sarong.

"Oh my God," I said, drenched, the sarong now totally transparent and clinging to my body. I looked at Joey in feigned dismay, and took it off to wring it out. Sitting back down, I simply left it by my side to dry. I was finally dressed the way Derrick expected.

"Do you want to take a little dip?" I asked. "It's kinda hot. I think I will."

"Nah, you go ahead. I'll wait her for you. Guard your sarong for you," he laughed. The drinks seemed to be having a little better effect now.

I smiled at him and slipped into the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amber get out of the pool and walk over to the lounge chairs on the pool deck. A few minutes later, I saw Joey walk over near her and sit in one of the chairs beside her. I waved to him to tell him it was okay.

The horseplay in the pool was all around me now, and I noticed quickly that this bikini was not a "swimsuit." In the water it covered nothing. I felt someone grab me around the waist, and I turned just in time to see Amber's hulky bodybuilder throw me up high into the air. Like Amber, I had no idea where my top was after I landed.

The hulk grabbed me again, and this time I flew through the air entirely topless, landing back in Mr. Bodybuilder's arms.

"Looking for this?" he asked holding what I thought was my top. But it wasn't. It was my bottom! I realized in an instant that he had somehow managed to totally strip me and that I was now perfectly nude. "Want another ride?"

"Don't you dare," I said sternly but playfully. "Are you crazy? My husband is right there! I'm completely naked, you idiot! Give me my bottom!"

"Well, before I do, I guess you'll just have to let me fuck you!" he said, pulling me closer to him and pushing his legs hard between my thighs. "I've been watching you for a half hour and you're turning me on."

His huge legs easily pried mine open. He continued to pull me closer, purposely widening my legs to accept his pleasure.

"Stop it!" I said, but again apparently not convincingly. "I told you my husband is right there," I repeated, glancing over to see if he noticed. Joey did seem to be intently watching, but with a big smile on his face. I was sure he'd seen the topless flight my bodybuilder had given me, and I assumed that was the reason for the grin. Harmless, sexy fun, he would think. He had no idea I was naked beneath the water. Naked, and open, and almost certainly about to be fucked.

The hulk continued to draw my naked body closer to his. I leaned back, hoping to make it obvious that we were only talking, but that only provided the opportunity and position he wanted. My legs were now nearly wholly splayed open and he had his hands on my thighs drawing me nearer and nearer his waiting cock. I was defenseless now, using my arms in a desperate attempt to keep my head above water. When I felt his fat cock breech my labia, I just shook my head at him and splashed water at him.

"You better not get me in trouble!" I hissed, less firmly than I should have. His cock continued unimpeded. I shuddered slightly as he thrust himself entirely inside me, stopped resisting, and let him open me fully.

Now that he was imbedded fully inside me, I peeked quickly over at Joey. Nothing must have seemed amiss, because he simply continued to grin at me.

The hulk's tempo was increasing and I was having a harder and harder time keeping my head above water, so I finally had to relent and grab his shoulders. There was no point now in resisting at all. I relaxed and surrendered my body fully to him. It must have then been surely quite obvious to everyone directly at poolside that I was being seriously fucked. "Don't you dare cum in me!" I whispered fiercely in his ear as his cock drove harder and deeper into my loosening sex.

I looked again at Joey only to discover that Amber was diverting his attention. Hate her though I did, I was grateful at the moment that her tits had so enamored my husband. Carla was peering intently at me. But I was beyond caring. I relaxed completely and let Mr. America plunder my sex.

"Don't cum in me!" I repeated as his tempo signaled his quickly approaching climax. He simply ignored me. When he ejaculated in me, I simply submitted, letting him pull me deep onto his shuddering cock. "You shit!" I said as each spasm splashed more of his seed inside me. "You little shit," I repeated, trying to look stern but failing miserably. The coy smile on my face probably didn't help.

Finished with me, he handed me both my top and bottom, told me he'd be "back for more," and swam away. 

As I furtively retied my bikini, it occurred to me that in less than four months four different men had had sex with me. I had gone from an innocent young bride to a shameless slut in that brief time. What was becoming of me?!

I climbed out of the pool, my tiny bikini covering almost nothing at all now, and walked quite arrogantly by Amber. I was sure she was aware of the appreciative stares I was getting, and I made sure they continued as I toweled off as seductively as possible. I should have been nicer. She probably saved my marriage.

I saw that Joey had finished the drink I brought him and was half way through another. The grin on his face told me he was nearing where I wanted him to be. He didn't seem nervous or awkward with my near nudity now. He was back to pride of ownership! Alcohol had become the catalyst for our sex life.

I told Joey I was going to get a drink and asked him if he wanted another. He said he did, and I set off for the bar to enthusiastic stares from the guys around me. I was extremely aroused. I hadn't climaxed in the pool, but I was so on the edge of one. It would take no more than a gentle nudge to put me over the edge.

And then, to my erotic delight, I found Derrick there at the bar waiting for me.

"Come with me," he said, sternly. 

"Sure," I beamed, "but first I have to run this drink over to Joey."

"Carla's taking care of that," he said to my surprise. He grabbed my hand tightly and pulled me to a room just off the cabana. I was sure he wanted to fuck me as much as I now desperately needed him so deep inside me. I needed that one masterful stroke of his incomparable cock to release the pent up climax inside me.

In the room, he turned me toward him and in one quick and viscous thrust, drove his balled fist hard into my stomach. I fell writhing to the floor, gasping for air. He put his foot on my head.

You stupid cunt," he said furiously. "You fucked that idiot Carl in the pool."

"No, I didn't!" I sobbed, gasping for breath.

He dragged me to my feet and struck me again, even harder this time. I thought I'd die. I could not breathe. All I could do was gasp for air.

"Carla saw you, cunt! Your ass and cunt are mine slut! Did you forget that? You fuck no one that I don't tell you to, got it!" he yelled, pushing his foot down harder on my head.

He reached down and grabbed me by the hair and violently jerked my head off the floor and pulled me to a table in the center of the room, and struck me a third time in my belly.

"Put your tits down on the table, cunt, and reach back and hold your ass cheeks open," he barked. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass!"

"Derrick, please don't," I gasped, trying to suck air into my depleted lungs. "Nobody's ever done that to me. I know it will hurt. Please don't," I sobbingly pleaded.

"What do you think? I'm going to fuck you in your cum-filled cunt, whore? Spread your fucking cheeks, cunt!"

I pulled myself open and instantly suffered the most intense, searing pain I'd even experienced. His cock tore quickly and violently into my ass, rending it immediately. I could feel the tearing as with each deep grunt he drove his frightful cock deeper into my now bleeding rectum. I can only be deeply thankful that in his rage an excitement, he brutally emptied himself inside very quickly.




Chloe's Story Ch. 02



He had calmed down some by the time I had weepingly finished licking his cock clean.

"You know why I had to beat you, don't you." Derrick said calmly.

I nodded my head yes.

"You disrespected my property. Your cunt is not yours to give away; it's mine!"

"I know it is," I sniffled. "I am so, so sorry. But he just took it. I didn't ask him to."

"I don't care if he took it or you gave it to him. When my cunt gets used without my permission, you will be punished! Every time."

"Can you please forgive me just this once?" I cravenly begged.

"Just get your ass back out there and make sure everything you do the rest of the night pleases me!" he said, walking out the door.

I felt brutalized and humiliated, but grateful that Derrick had apparently forgiven me, or if not, at least had given me the chance to make it up to him somehow during the rest of the night. But I was in considerable pain, too. I found the bottom of my bikini where Derrick had thrown it, pulled it back on, and prepared to rejoin the party. But he had hurt me when he took me anally, and in the mirror I saw the smear of blood around my rectum would not be covered by the single string running up my butt. Carefully wiping the blood away, I could only hope that I'd leak no further.

I found my way back to the lounge chair where Joey had been. He wasn't there, but fortunately, my sarong was. I needed to hide inside it. I tied it carefully around me and sat down to await Joey's return.

While sitting there, alone, letting the little sobs come that I'd have to contain around Joey, Carla walked up to me. "Looking for Joey?" she said sweetly.

I just stared hard at her. "You bitch," I thought, but replied, "Yes, I am. Thank you."

"Let's see," she went on cheerfully. "I think the last time I saw him Amber was fucking him! Amber told him that you since you seemed to be having a such a delightful time fucking Carl in the pool, maybe she and Joey should take the opportunity and have a wonderful fuck themselves. Isn't that just so sweet and romantic? Haven't seen them since. Oh, by the way, Fuckmeat, Derrick said to take that stupid sarong off!"

The last remark startled me as much as the first. I quickly did as I was told, exposing my body once more for Derrick's pleasure. A moment or two later, Amber and Joey strolled back, acting as if nothing had happened. Joey was drunk, I could see that, but otherwise looked normal, and certainly not guilty. Amber, however, was more than half out of her suit. Both of them looked at my exposed body, Amber sneering and Joey grinning.

I was about to say something to Joey, when Carla informed me that Derrick wanted to see me for a minute. I asked Joey if he'd mind if I left for just a minute, and he winked at me and said no.

I was now intensely aware of just how little of my body was covered, how terribly exposed I was, and while earlier I felt hot and sexy this way, now I felt vulnerable and defenseless. I tried to perk up as I reached Derrick and the people around him. I smiled, said "Hi," and looked at him inquisitively.

"This is my new bitch," he said to the guys around him. "A great fuck with a terrific body. Lose the top," he said, turning to me. "Let these losers see what a real man calls his cunt's tits!"

Derrick was drunker than I had imagined, which in an important way pleased and relieved me. It explained perfectly his violent attack on me. It wasn't really Derrick, it was the liquor! I suddenly felt so much better, suddenly so much sexier. I wanted to be his bitch, his cunt...his girl. I slowly tugged my top open to display fully now Derrick's tits.

I loved the admiration, the exclamation about the ripeness of my breasts, their heft and size. Derrick invited everyone to examine them closely, and then he told me to remove the bottom of my bikini as well. 

Naked and aroused, I moaned audibly as various fingers and hands explored the contours of my body, both inside and out. "A dollar a fuck!" Derrick said. "Cheap thrills! Enjoy yourselves!"

The entire group slowly moved me to a lounge chair toward the back of the patio, and as the first man mounted me, I turned anxiously to Derrick and mouthed, "Joey...?"

"He's being taken care of," he said simply, as the first cock slithered into my belly. "But I'm thinking of inviting him to watch the show. You don't mind, do you," he laughed, watching my hips rise to accommodate the cock penetrating me.

"No," I mumbled, hoping against hope that he wasn't serious.

He walked away and though I lost count, I thought at least a half a dozen men used me in a very short interval. I was too nervous to climax, but in my heart I was deeply pleased to be all the Derrick wanted me to be, and responded as I hoped he wanted. Derrick had said all holes except my ass were "open for business." I was very responsive to each cock as it filled my cunt. Even the two cocks that slipped unawares to him into my ruined ass were greeted with a feigned groan of pleasure. My mouth seemed to fill quickly. Each time I swallowed, another cock seemed to spurt an outsized spume of semen directly into my awaiting mouth. 

I knew I was being watched by more than the men fucking me. I saw Teri once laughing and pointing at me. Carla was there with a girl I hadn't seen before. But at least I didn't see Amber and Joey. For one brief second, I hoped she was fucking him somewhere safely away from the spectacle his wife had become. 

When the last man had finished inside me and I had cleaned the last bit of cum from whatever cock was offered, I struggled off the lounge chair and made my way to the bathroom. There was fourteen dollars in soggy bills on the chaise lounge. I guess I served more guys than I though.

Derrick stopped me in route to the bathroom and told me he was proud of me. It was enough to make everything right again.

I cleaned up as best I could, and returned to look for Joey. It was definitely time to go now. I found him by the pool, watching Amber cavorting with two guys in the pool. He seemed happy to go.

In the car, I asked him hesitantly about the night. He said that Derrick told him he was very interested in him coming to work for them, and that he'd be making an offer soon. I knew that was not actually ever going to happen, but kept quiet. 

I told him how hot I thought Amber looked. He agreed, but said she couldn't compete with what he already had. I took a deep breath and told him what Carla had said. Not the part about me in the pool with the bodybuilder, but the part about him having sex with Amber.

He just laughed and said they were obviously playing mind games with me because I looked so hot and everyone was complimenting me and not looking at them. And I believed him. And I still do.

Thankfully he was too drunk for sex when we got home!



Chloe's Story Ch. 03



It was well past 9:00 p.m. when the phone rang about a week later. I was surprised to hear Mr. Damon on the other end of the line.

"Chloe," he said, "Chuck and I have been discussing you here over drinks this evening and have decided we'd like a little more of your tight little cunt. Well, I've decided that. Actually, Chuck wants your mouth again."

I was stunned, he was obviously a little inebriated, and not knowing exactly how to respond to such overt and startlingly coarse language, I could do little more than tremble, "Yes, okay."

"Anyway, here's what we want," obviously not attuned to the trepidation in my voice. "Tell Joey that there's an emergency at work and we need you here right away. We want you dressed in a coat and that's all. Nothing underneath. What? Hold on, Chloe.... Chuck wants you in a garter belt and black stockings, nothing else."

"I don't have a garter belt," I whispered shielding the phone, fearing Joey would hear. 

"She doesn't have a garter belt....Okay, I'll ask her. You got black thigh highs?"

"Yes," I stammered.

"Thigh highs and heels then. Nothing else. No panties. Nothing. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," I answered nervously. 

"When you get to the parking lot, call us. We'll tell you what we want next."

I could hear Chuck laughing in the background. I had a feeling that I would be used again by both Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, but I hoped not so abruptly and so crudely. I was frankly reluctant to go, but having been unable to indicate that, I felt I had no choice now but to obey. 

I went into the living room where Joey and I had been watching a movie and told him what Mr. Damon had told me. He looked puzzled, but told me to be careful and call him when I got there. He'd wait up for me.

I told him that wasn't necessary, that I'd likely be late, slipped back into the bedroom, and nervously stripped. I think it was only then, while I was actually undressing as I was told to, that I realized I was in fact going to do this. When I stopped anxiously to check my naked body in the mirror to ensure that it would be pleasing to the men, I knew I was truly lost. I slipped my coat over my nakedness and left the bedroom. 

I kissed Joey goodbye, scared to death that he would sense my bareness beneath the coat. My heart was racing as I walked to the car, both in fear and excitement. 

I called Mr. Damon from the parking lot, and he told me the night watchman would let me in the back door and escort me to the elevator. He told me to leave the jacket on but unbutton it completely. The night watchman, a guy about my age that I had innocently flirted with many times, gave me such a strange look. It almost made me blush. With my coat unbuttoned, my nakedness was dramatically evident. I couldn't imagine what he must be thinking.

At Mr. Damon's office, I knocked nervously on the door. Mr. Compton answered and let me in to a rather dimly lit office and the distinct aroma of cigars. I saw Mr. Damon sitting on the sofa near his desk and standing just to his right a tall, distinguished looking older gentleman smoking a cigar and holding a glass of something in his hand.

"This is the girl we were talking about, Giles," Mr. Compton said, ushering me into the room. "Chloe, this is Giles Stanford."

I was a bit taken aback. First, I hadn't expected anyone other than Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, and second I certainly wasn't expecting to see Giles Stanford, the man whose father founded the company.

"Beautiful young woman," Mr. Stanford said, looking at me intently. He had a deep and intimidating voice, a voice that just seemed innately to command respect and one that literally put chills down my back. He was handsome in the way that older, powerful men who are confident in their place in the social order seem to exhibit naturally, and he was impeccably dressed. Even Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton were in obvious awe of the man. And I most certainly was.

"Take your coat off, Chloe," Mr. Damon ordered abruptly. "I think you'll be impressed with this, Giles," he said, turning to Mr. Stanford. "Not only with her beautify but with her obedience." 

I was not ready for this. Both Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton had made it clear to me after they first took me that I was in fact their property now, but I don't think I completely understood until just this minute. I knew that I had not actually given myself as property to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, as I had to Derrick. This was far different. No, I hadn't "given" myself to them; they had simply taken me. 

It's very hard for me to explain, even to myself, but when Mr. Damon raped me, I understood that he did so because he knew he could. He wanted me, and the fact that I was married meant nothing to him. He took what he wanted, and he wanted me. My husband sadly was unable to protect me. Simply put, a more powerful man had taken what he had and now owned it in ways Joey could never emulate. And in truth, I was more naturally bound now to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton than to Derrick. What I gave I to Derrick I could take back. But what was taken was forever theirs.

Understand I did and do love Joey. I have always done my best to please him and to build his confidence around other men. It really did please me to be his "arm candy," but at the same time he put our relationship at risk by displaying me that way. My beauty, my sex were his badge of manhood, but when a stronger man simply took what he saw displayed, took ownership of it as his natural right, as Mr. Damon had done that afternoon in his office, I had no choice but to surrender. It just seems a natural law that that's the way it must be. Like Darwin proved, these men were superior and had an innate right to strew their genes where they choose. This was much bigger than Joey. Much bigger than Derrick.

This wasn't at all like my submission to Derrick. As I said, that was totally willing on my part. But the funny thing was, the distressing thing, actually, was that standing there in front of these powerful men it came to me in a dazzling image, that their taking me simply because they could had bound me to them in ways that my easy submission to Derrick could never. I truly was their property. Their captured property. Their booty. 

"The coat, Chloe," Mr. Damon said again, snapping me out of my reverie. I knew my next decision would unalterably mark me as "property," but I also knew that decision had already been made last weekend when they simply took their property from Joey and enjoyed it. I slowly pulled the coat from my shoulders and let it fall to my feet.

"Well," Mr. Stanford exclaimed. "Where did you find this? I see a ring on her finger. She married?" he said, walking over to me, his eyes fixed firmly on my body.

"Some auto parts clerk or something. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about, Honey?" Mr. Stanford asked, extending his hand and cupping my left breast, never once glancing at my face.

"No," I murmured.

"I've never seen tits this large and so perfectly formed," he said, addressing Mr. Damon. "In size and shape they almost look like implants, but they're very obviously not," he added, now kneading my breast and squeezing my nipples. "Tiny waist. This is a rare find. And she's a good fuck, you say?"

"Not bad," Mr. Damn answered. "A little inexperienced, but also tight and underused. Turn around and let Mr. Stanford see more of you, Chloe."

I turned obediently, watching as Mr. Stanford put his drink and cigar on the table and came near to examine me more carefully.

"What did you say her name was," Mr. Stanford asked.

"Chloe."

"Bend over for me, Chloe, and spread you legs open a bit."

I did as I was told. Putting his hand between my thighs, he nudged my legs open a bit more and began to expertly caress my vagina.

"Very smooth, nicely kept. Your idea?"

"No, she came that way," Mr. Damon laughed.

"She has slightly puffed cunt lips, which I like a lot," Mr. Stanford said, turning me now to face him.

"Has she ever been whipped?"

"I doubt it," Mr. Compton said. Certainly not by us. We haven't had her long enough, and I'd bet anything not by her husband. Ever been whipped, Chloe?"

I shook my head no, lying but worried about the question.

"You will be whipped," Mr. Stanford said assertively, "but not tonight."

"Would you like us to leave while you fuck her, Giles?" Mr. Damon asked.

"No, let's all enjoy her, though I think I'll invoke executive privilege and take her first," Mr. Stanford laughed. "Take her over to that conference table and push her tits down on it," he said to Mr. Damon. "I'll take her from the rear.

"Cunt or ass?" Mr. Damon asked.

"Perhaps both," Mr. Stanford replied.

"Well, just as a heads up, the latter is virgin, something we saved for you."

"Interesting. Nice gift. I think I will give that a try. Your ass is virgin, Chloe?" he asked, running his hand across my butt.

"Yes," I lied again, hoping he wouldn't know.

As Mr. Damon was leading me to the table and pushing my tits down hard on it cold surface, I just seemed to intuit that once Mr. Stanford took me, I would be his property, not anyone else's. In truth, I hoped that would be the case. 

The second he touched my bare ass and began rubbing it and examining it, I knew without any doubt that this was going to be an intense experience.

"You haven't branded her or marked her, I see," Mr. Stanford said. "Maybe I'll put my own mark on her," he added. "If she earns it."

I was determined to earn it. I wanted his mark, his brand, his whatever it was that he needed to deem me his property. I knew for the first time in my life that I was in the presence of pure power, and that whether anyone else knew it, he already owned me. I was just waiting for him to take possession. I would beg him if necessary.

His hand slid from my butt to my pussy and his fingers began to probe my clit as I writhed in anticipation. I heard him laugh and exclaim to Mr. Damon that I seemed eager to get "my cunt filled." And I was! At least by him. I didn't have long to wait. 

I held my breath as I felt his cock begin to breech my labia because I knew Mr. Stanford would not be gentle. But I was mistaken. At first. 

His first stroke seemed exploratory, as if probing to find the best position to impale me. His next stroke was not so gentle. He plunged his cock fully in me in one tremendous stabbing thrust, literally lifting me off of my feet. Each subsequent stroke found the very bottom of my cunt and threatened to rupture my cervix. I knew I would offer no resistance if that's what he wanted. And then he stopped and withdrew!

I ws desperate for him to continue, but afraid to say anything that might offend him. I simply lay there, poised for his next assault.

"Chloe," he said gently. "I'm going to fuck you in your ass now and I will probably rend you in the process. Do you understand?"

I nodded that I did.

"Your cunt is quite tight and I imagine your ass will be even tighter," he went on. "I expect some tearing and some bleeding, as I'm not inclined to be gentle in these situations. I'd like you now to invite me to rend you ass."

I hesitated, naturally. What he was offering was frightening and he wanted me to not only give my permission but to ask him to take me.

"Chloe?" he said sternly.

"Yes," I stammered. "Yes, sir, go ahead," and closed my eyes against what I knew was coming.

"I said ask me to rend your ass, Chloe. I expect your answer to reflect that."

My voice was weak and wavering as I stumbling said, "Yes, please fuck me in the ass."

"Rend, not fuck, Chloe," he said sternly to me. Looking at Mr. Compton and Mr. Damon, he added, "Do you always have such problems getting through to your whores?"

I could see that neither Mr. Compton or Mr. Damon were happy with me at the moment, but I managed to blurt out, "Please rend my ass, Mr. Stanford."

I heard him chuckle as he placed the head of his cock against my rectum. And then with a grunt he drove his engorged cock deep into my ass. I screamed in horrifying pain as his thick fat cock tore its way deep inside my ass.

His plundering of my rectum was relentless. The pain was incredible and seemingly endless, and only at last, when his heavy cock unloaded its burden inside my belled anus did I feel any relief. It's odd how welcome his cum was, providing not only soothing balm to my ruined ass but also the promise of an end to this brutality. And odder yet, I had fallen desperately in love with this strong, domineering man who simply took what he wanted. In some way, I felt proud to have given him some satisfaction, even though the cost to me was extreme.

When he grabbed my hair and yanked me to my knees to clean his soiled cock, I took it humbly and gratefully. I ws his if he wanted me. And even if he didn't!

"I think she needs a little training, Chuck," I heard Mr. Stanford subtly complain. Her cunt is tight right now and that makes up for a lot of lapses in technique, but she needs work. Right now, she takes a cock. She doesn't work with it. I'm surprised a beautiful young woman with a body like this hasn't had considerably more experience, but she apparently hasn't, so it's up to you two to provide that knowledge. Also, her ass is frankly a little uncomfortably tight. I've opened her pretty well, I think,: he added, sticking four fingers into my ass and then again into my mouth, "but I expect you to keep her opened. Use a large dildo or have her ass fucked a least once a week by somebody with some size, perhaps by one of the blacks who clean up here."

"No problem, Giles" Mr. Compton answered. "Maybe we can get a little better janitorial service with Chloe here as a bonus for especially good work," he laughed.

Brianna

It was a week later when, being summoned to the office, I walked into the middle of a conversation about Mr. Stanford's new girl, Brianna. Neither Mr. Damon nor Mr. Compton had met her yet, but they had heard that she was arrestingly attractive and quite young, apparently barely eighteen. Both were eager to see (and, I assumed, to fuck) her.

Mr. Stanford brought her to the office later that morning, and everything said about her was true. She was simply stunning. She was tall, at least three inches taller than my 5'6", with beautiful long legs and supple hips and slender waist. Her skin was the palest ivory, and the contrast of her hair falling in luxurious waves of black curls down her back, framing the flawless features of her perfect face, only enhanced the stunning contrast. Her deep green eyes seemed to express knowledge far beyond her scant years.

Dressed in a chic teal skirt and matching sweater that very obviously didn't come off the rack at a department store, she had an air of unassuming confidence. The body incased in that elegant ensemble would befit a goddess. Standing there in her natural hauteur, she displayed the aura of one accustomed to power and privilege, thought I learned later that was not the case at all. The daughter of one of Mr. Stanford's clients at the time, Brianna first caught his attention at fourteen, he told us, and he resolved immediately to possess her and her younger sister. Mr. Stanford had first taken the mother as collateral on a loan made to her husband, a gambling addict deeply in debt to some very dangerous men, though his addiction to the crap tables was likely far more dangerous. The mother, Katherine, submitted early on, and within a month proudly wore Mr. Stanford's mark above her vagina, a mark proclaiming her to be his exclusive property.

As the husband's debts accumulated, Mr. Stanford's hold on the family grew as did his interest in the two daughters. When he mentioned his intention to possess the two daughters when they reached the age of eighteen, Katherine objected. A week later, at lunch with an Asian businessman, he sold her for a bowl of wan ton soup to the same businessman, who that very evening drugged her and shipped her off to Hong Cong. 

Having now to deal only with the husband, Mike, Mr. Stanford made arrangements to cover all of his gambling debts, with the provision that the girls become his property at eighteen and that they both be virgin. When that provision was satisfied and Mr. Stanford took possession, he would give Mike a cash settlement of twenty thousand dollars for each. Mike agreed. Mr. Stanford began the girl's preparation immediately.

By the time Mr. Stanford took possession of Brianna four years later, he had transformed her into an elegant young woman, poised and accomplished in her manners and dress, but more important a young woman trained to perfect obedience. Her body, nearly faultless already, had been sculpted by an array of fitness trainers; had been prepared further by a yoga instructor who enhanced her natural sinuous suppleness; and finished by laser treatments that left her body silkily smooth and unblemished. She was now eighteen, a virgin, and Mr. Stanford's property.

When Mr. Stanford walked into the office that morning and introduced us to Brianna, I knew immediately that, though this girl was younger than I, she was much older in ways I would have yet to learn.

He told us the basic story that I have related above, and then asked Brianna to remove her clothes, which she immediately did. As her skirt and sweater fell to the floor, all of us involuntarily gasped in amazement. Brianna was simply awe inspiring. Her skin was milky white and flawless, her hips full, her waist stylishly tapered, and her breasts perfectly shaped and alluring.

I am not unaware that I have a nice body. Many guys have told me so. But I also know my boobs are too big for my frame, and while a guy might think my tits fit me impeccably, every girl would know otherwise. But Brianna was faultless. Her boobs were a large B cup or more likely a C, and stood prominent and enticing. Her nipples, slightly erect, were light pink and ideally proportioned. I felt humbled at the sight of this gorgeous apparition of classical beauty.

It was a moment before my eyes fell to what Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton had been talking about: a tattoo in subtle shades of reds and greens arching over her vagina and proclaiming in elegant script that she was the "Exclusive Property of Global Enterprises, Inc." It was appropriate in every degree to her body and her demeanor. Once seeing it, I could never imagine her without it. It was perfection.

Turning her around by her graceful shoulders, Mr. Stanford drew our attention to her derriere and the small brand, about the size of a silver dollar, burned deeply into her bottom. It too was perfect. A thin circle enclosed Mr. Stanford's initials, all of which protruded ever so slightly above her skin. I couldn't help but touch it. 

The skin surrounding the brand was as smooth as glossy velvet and the brand itself had no roughness to it at all. Rather than the irregular branding so common, this was a beautiful piece of art work that Brianna could be rightfully proud of.

"How did you get that brand to come out that way?" Mr. Damon inquired. "I've never seen that kind of result. How did you manage to brand her and not make a mess of it?" he added, expressing the sentiment of us all.

"The right equipment and a steady hand," he replied. "I like to use a stainless steel brand that allows me a very thin outline that I can heat to extremely high temperatures. It's important that your bitch not move at all when you apply the brand, so I had one of my dog breeding stocks modified enough so that I can secure her tightly enough to keep her immobile all through the process."

"You're a fucking genius, Giles. I mean it," Mr. Compton said. "The mark is perfect."

Mr. Stockton laughed and said it was one of his better inventions and that maybe he'd patent it. Everybody chuckled.

Mr. Compton again turned Brianna and while inspecting her vagina turned to Mr. Stanford to comment that her labia were not pierced.




Chloe's Story Ch. 03



"You had Michelle's cunt lips pierced and a thick, permanent ring fastened through each, as I remember. Are you waiting to do this one's or not doing it at all?"

"You forgot the little padlock that I used," Mr. Stanford added in amusement. "Michelle was a bit of a slut when I got her, and I kept her locked to remind her of what she was. This one doesn't have that problem."

"I think we'll use one on our slut," Mr. Compton laughed. "You want your cunt pierced, Honey?" he said nodding to me.

"So where's Michelle now?" Mr. Damon asked, ignoring my stammering agreement. "You sell her?"

"Long story. Michelle helped me get Brianna ready, and even though I told her repeatedly that when Brianna was ready I was going to sell her, I don't think she believed me, even though I was actively shopping her at the time. I kept Michelle there with me when I branded Brianna and had her watch me pop her cherry right after because I wanted to make it clear that Brianna was my primary bitch now and that Michelle was for sale. So while she was cleaning Brianna's blood and juice off my cock I told her that I had two guys bidding on her and so far the Mexican had made the highest offer, but that I was waiting for the Saudi to make a counteroffer.

"She immediately started crying and asking what she'd done wrong. I told that she'd done nothing wrong, that she was perfect in every way, but that I'd grown tired of her and needed fresh meat. She kept on begging, telling me she'd serve in any capacity I wanted, and when I again refused, in desperation she asked me if I would have her strangled or hanged instead! 

"I told her quite frankly that was out of the question, that it was a total violation of my business ethics. I explained to her that no good businessman who is replacing a piece of property would simply give away or destroy the original. If I bought a new boat or a new car, for example, I told her, I would certainly not destroy the old one, especially if, as in her case, it still had considerable monetary value. I would sell it!

"But she just kept on and on, and I told her over and over again that I simply could not in good faith destroy property that still had market value, and that she was bringing in substantial offers that I did not want to pass up. 

"But she just did not want to understand. Finally, she asked if she could do it herself, take her own life, and though it bothered my business sense then and still does, I reluctantly allowed her go ahead and take her own life. I think she used pills. Don't really recall exactly. 

"I was damned upset later though when I had to return the good faith money the Saudi and the Mexican had put up, and the fucking Mexican was outraged because he apparently had already lined up a long client list. It was just a bad deal all around. If I had it to do over, I would have simply sold her and been done with it. I'm too soft sometimes," he concluded.

The story and Mr. Stanford's calm telling of it upset me terribly, but what upset me even more was Brianna's nonchalance. She seemed even proud that she was, if not the agent of this horror, certainly the catalyst. I knew Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton well enough to not be surprised by their reaction. They were males, powerful, alpha males who were accustomed to this kind of obedience. But I was shocked by Brianna's reaction. She seemed to feel no connection to Michelle, no understanding that all of us were no more than cunts, mouths, and asses who exist to serve the pleasure of the handful of males strong enough to subjugate us.

But my own reaction was chilling was well. When Mr. Stanford invited Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton to sample Brianna's wares, I wanted to see them hurt her because it would excite me to have my owners reduce this stunning woman to nothing more than what Derrick calls "fuck meat."