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[NC][HUML][M][f] Pretty Little C*nt: A Freeuse Society of Hedone Novel
Author Summary
JayceeMeKinky is in HUML
Post Body

Synopsis:

Under the new social order, every recently-of-age female has her virginity auctioned off to the highest bidder. She is then legally required to put in three years of service at the Community Cunt Center. As a community cunt, she has one primary purpose– to use her body to bring pleasure to legally of-age men.

This story follows Jaycee. Growing up with the unique childhood of being raised by both her caring birth master and her mother– who actually love each other as well as her– has made accepting life as a community cunt challenging. Her ongoing resistance to accepting her lot in life as a mere object is seen as an act of rebellion and invites severe discipline from the men who wish to use her and maintain the patriarchy.

In walks Jaime- good looking, charming, and claiming to prefer seduction to force. He’s about to turn Jaycee’s world upside down.

PROLOGUE:

The auditorium of the Community Cunt Center is packed with men, which is usual and expected for a virginity auction. Their raucous guffawing and crude jesting fills the air, as does the smell of body odor and pre-cum.

Tickets consistently sell out for these events, with even those who could never afford to purchase a deflowering showing up for the thrill of the spectacle. With the easy availability of used pussy, the sight of a nude virgin collared and handed off to be deflowered is enough to get many in the audience to come, and they do. Some are already working their cocks at the thought of the helpless cunts lined up behind the stage.

The virginity auctions are a regular occurrence at the center, with at least one auction being held each month as the number of blossoming and newly of age cunts dictates.

Today, twenty-four young females are lined up backstage, each of them stripped naked with the exception of their chastity belts, which are securely locked in place around their pelvises.

Three burly security guards roam among their ranks, serving to both intimidate the girls from stepping out of line and to protect them from the hungry men in the crowd who would no doubt eagerly take advantage of what was not theirs to take.

The fearful anticipation among the girls is palpable. Unobstructed by clothing, if you got close enough you could detect the smell of sweat and pussy. Many of the women whisper nervously among themselves, others cry, while the more stoic among them wait in solemn silence. If you observe the quiet ones closely, you might see them trembling.

One girl is shrieking and foolishly attempting to fight past the security guards, who waste no time in subduing her with a ball gag, handcuffs, and several swift lashes to her backside. The other females shoot her nervous furtive glances, most filled with sympathy, but some with disdain. The guards laugh at her hysterics. It is to be expected from a gaggle of bitches: there always seems to be at least one to keep the guards amused and occupied.

The girls quiet down when the booming voice of the community director is heard over the loudspeaker.

“Welcome! Tonight, we have twenty-four ripe cherries ready and available for popping.”

The men cheer, and the director patiently waits for the men to quiet back down before continuing.

“For those of you who are new to our proceedings, the girls will be brought out onstage one at a time. The current bid will be displayed on the screen behind me. Bids will open at $500 and in­crease by a minimum increment of $100. Bids can be made using our app, Ripe and Ready. If you do not yet have the app downloaded to your phone and wish to participate in tonight’s biddings, please take a moment to download the app now.

“Winning bidders will be invited onstage and given the key to the cunt’s belt. They will then have the option of enjoying their purchase on-site in one of our complimentary rooms, or they may wish to take their prize off-site– due back tomorrow at noon. Late returnees will be subject to fines. Without further ado, let the bidding begin!”

The men clap and cheer as the director sits down behind a table to oversee the proceedings. The auctioneer joins him on the stage. There is a temporary hush of anticipation as the curtains part and the first female is pushed out onto the stage from behind thick red curtains. The silence is quickly broken by the sound of whistling chand catcalling.

The girl’s eyes are wide open in shock and surprise. The crowd laughs at her feeble attempts to cover herself and run back behind the curtains. A security guard roughly pushes her back towards stage center and gives her ass a punishing lash from his flogger.

She squeals in shock and gives up on her attempts at running. Instead, she freezes, focusing her gaze on the stage floor as the men feast their eyes on her pale, unblemished body.

The auctioneer begins his spiel. The girl, startled at the sudden sound of the auctioneer's voice, stares at him in horror as he rattles off her background and assets for the crowd’s assessment.

“First up, we have number 179-342, known as Chloe. Enter this number into your apps now if you wish to place a bid. That’s 1-7-9-3-4-2. Chloe took gymnastics classes for several years, making her a highly flexible fuck, though she has recently put on weight.

“Her teachers describe her as shy and unsure of her new curves. Turn around, bitch- show the men your fat tush.”

Tears fill the horrified redhead’s eyes as she slowly turns around.

“Good girl. Now bend over.

The men hoot and holler as they leer at her exposed ass.

“Bidding for Chloe is now open.

“$600 bid–now 700–will ya give me 700?

“$800 bid– now 900–now 900.

“$900 bid– now 1000– now 1000–will you give me 1000?

“$1000 bid! Do we have 1100?–any increase from 1000? No?

“Going once, going twice… sold to Mr. Young for $1000!

“Mr. Young, please join us on stage to claim your prize!”

A middle aged, balding man strides forward and bounds up onto the stage. The director stands and presents the man with a red collar, padlock, leash, and key.

“You have purchased the rights of deflowering number 179–342. You also receive the honor of collaring her. Here is the key to her cherry. Number 179–342, please step forward!”

The redhead takes cautious steps towards Mr. Young while keeping her eyes on her feet.

“Hurry up, bitch!” the director snaps. She hurries now, tears streaming down her face.

Mr. Young grabs her by the hair and takes a theatrical sniff, drawing laughter from the crowd.

“On your knees! Show Mr. Young proper respect!” the director commands. She drops to her knees in front of Mr. Young, who fastens the red collar around her neck and secures it with the padlock.

“This collar should under no circumstances be removed until you are purchased by a master,” the director tells her. Mr. Young clips the leash to her collar and proceeds to lead her off the stage, her sobbing drowned out by the crowd’s cheers.

“Next up, we have number 179–187, informally known as Caillie. 179–187, come join us on stage.”

A confident looking brunette strolls forward– a stark contrast to her predecessor. The men whistle in appreciation.

“Caillie is a sassy bitch, fully embracing her role in society. If you’re looking for a willing and enthusiastic fuck, Caillie is the cunt for you. Bids are now open!

“We’ve got an offer for $600– do I hear 700?

“$700 bid–any increase on 700?

“$800 bid–now 900–now 900.

“Bid for $900–any increase on 900?

“$1000 bid–now 1100– now 1100–any takers for 1100?

“$1100 bid–do I hear 1200?

“$1200 bid! Any increase on 1200?

“Going once, going twice, sold to Mr. Scott for $1200! Join us on stage to claim your prize!”

Caillie accepts her collar with pride, wiggling her ass at the crowd as Mr. Scott leads her off the stage.

Biddings continue forth in a similar fashion, the demeanor of each female varying slightly, but a strong majority presenting as ashamed and frightened. The virginity of twenty-one more females are auctioned off to the highest bidder. Finally, it is time for the final virgin to make her way onto the stage.

“And now, for today’s final sale, we have number 179–969, known as Jaycee.”

Some chuckles could be heard in the audience at the mention of 69.

A pretty brunette is pushed onto the stage. She is thin with soft feminine curves. Her hair hangs in waves down to her waist, nearly forming a cover for her small, but round and perky breasts. Her eyes are a soft mixture of gray, green, and blue and give her a look of innocence. She is pale, but for her cheeks, which are flushed pink, no doubt from all of the eyes in the room eyeing her pretty curves.

Though her heart is almost certainly pounding, she appears to make a conscious effort at confidence as she suddenly lifts her chin and her chest. Before the auctioneer can resume his speech, she speaks up, barely heard over the excited voices in the crowd. However, when the crowd notices her speaking, the room hushes quickly.

“Excuse me, sir. May I please say a few words to the crowd?”

The auctioneer looks surprised. She is the first of the girls to speak. He looks over at the director for guidance. The director stands up from his seat and addresses the crowd.

“Would you like to hear from the cunt?”

In response to shouts of approval, he nods his assent. “Go ahead, little bitch, but make it quick.”

She swallows and scans the crowd. “Last week I was pulled out of school when I turned eighteen.”

Somewhere in the crowd, someone cheers.

“I was at the top of my class, with my grades surpassing even the boys. I have a strong interest and passion for psychology.”

Her voice suddenly rises in volume as she speaks passionately. “I can offer more to society than my body! It would be my dream to continue my studies and contribute to the field of research–”

“I think we’ve heard quite enough,” interrupts the director. “You are exactly where you need to be to best serve society. Clearly, you are in for a rude awakening as you are made to properly understand your place. Your dream is to please men with your three holes. Nothing more. Now bend over, bitch.”

The girl only stares at him, disappointment and frustration clear in her frown.

“You LISTEN when you are given an order! Bend over!”

He grabs her hair and yanks her head forwards. She lets out a cry of alarm.

“Give this cunt twenty lashes,” he directs the guards, “and don’t hold back. The bitch is in serious need of discipline.”

The director maintains a tight hold on her hair as the guards take turns walloping her ass. She is sobbing by the sixth lash, and after all twenty lashes, her buttocks are flaming red with welts
forming in several places.

“What is your dream, Jaycee?” the director asks her in a mockingly caring tone.

“To… p-please men with my h-holes,” she whispers between sobs.

“I don’t think anyone could hear you. Louder please.”

“To please m-men with… my holes.”

“Louder, bitch. Tell the men in the back what your dream is.”

“TO PLEASE MEN WITH MY HOLES!” she shrieks and then hangs her head in humiliated defeat.

“That’s right. Good girl,” he says, running his hand over her sore ass. “Now that we’ve got that misunderstanding cleared up, let's continue with the bidding.”

The director nods at the auctioneer who steps forward.

“Bids open at $500.

“$800 bid–do I hear an increase to $900?

“$1000 bid! Do I hear 1100?

“$1100 bid–will you give me 1200?

“$1200 bid–now 1300, do I hear 1300?

“Oh! We’ve got a $5000 bid. Would anyone like to top $5000? Going once, going twice? Sold to Mr. Wood for $5000!”

The auctioneer looks surprised, and there are many gasps across the crowd as none other than the director himself walks over to Jaycee with a nasty smirk on his face.

"You’re in for a wild night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking her face before fastening, then cruelly tightening the red collar to nearly choking point around her neck.

“Get on your hands and knees. Now!”

She drops down obediently, no doubt to avoid further whippings.

The director leads her briskly off of the stage.

CHAPTER 1:

I stole a journal and pen from a coffee shop today- its male owner left it unattended on the table. Community cunts aren’t meant to write down their thoughts. Writing would encourage us to have ideas, which would make us a threat. That’s what I figure their line of reasoning is anyway.

It feels good to have a pen in my hand again. The last time would have been about two-and-a-half years ago, before I was brought to the Community Cunt Center–CCC. Underage girls are allowed to write. They don’t want us to be completely inept as adults, just controlled, so they let us learn basic literacy as kids, but then strictly monitor how much we can apply it as women.

Putting a pen to paper does help me to sort out my thoughts. In six months, I’ll have been at the CCC for three years, which means I’ll be available to be adopted as a baby girl– AKA, “adopted cunt.” Men and their name calling. I roll my eyes because I’m alone in my room. I’d be at risk of being punished if any man witnessed this display of attitude.

I’m not sure how I feel about the prospect of being adopted. Many girls look forward to the opportunity of living in an actual house again, but depending on which daddy adopts you, he can make your life a living hell. The uncertainty of it all brings knots to my stomach.

I guess it comes down to me being afraid to leave what is familiar. I’ve finally come to accept my life and its routine at the CCC. I appreciate the companionship of the other females. It’s nice to have other women around to talk to– to offer comfort when a man has been particularly brutal.

We’ve developed quite a bond of solidarity, us women. It’s always sad for the rest of us when one gets placed with a daddy. We never know if we’ll ever see her again. She might get returned. She might get purchased. As females, we have little control over our lives.

We are meant to be grateful that we don’t have to “worry our pretty heads” about these things- as if they are doing us a favor. The men handle our living situation and make sure we are fed and have pretty things to wear. We are their fuck dolls. They meet our basic needs, and in return we offer ourselves up to be played with.

Speaking of being played with, I ran into the director after dinner. That man makes my skin crawl. Ever since my attempted speech at the virginity auction, it has been his personal mission to make my life miserable. He calls me his “favorite little slut.” I do my best to avoid him, but there is only so much I can do when the man literally calls the shots on my schedule.

He likes to find new ways of humiliating me. One time, he forced me to suck his- and all of the other men’s- cocks for the duration of their board meeting. My jaw and my throat were so sore by the end of it, but that was nothing compared to how used I felt-- me on my knees, making my rounds, while all of them were in their suits.

Today, when I saw him, he grabbed me by the hair and whispered in my ear that I was to come to his office after my morning classes tomorrow. Ugh. I’m not looking forward to discovering what new humiliation he has in store for me.

I glance at the clock and set down my pen. I need to get ready for the evening men. I’ll be punished if I’m not on time and looking my best. I hide the journal under my mattress and open my closet to find something suitable to wear.

I scan the hangers, looking for something appropriately sexy, yet still reasonably comfortable. I sigh. What I feel like wearing is sweatpants and a hoodie, but such unflattering attire is not ever allowed outside of the confines of our bedrooms.

I finally settle on a short tight fitting red dress and matching heels. The red goes with my collar. The neckline plunges. It meets all of the standards, and at least the silky fabric feels nice on my skin. The heels hurt my feet, but there is no way around that. Community cunts are required to wear heels at all times- or go barefoot. I’ll likely end up barefoot by the end of the night.

I touch up my hair, apply red lipstick, and then head down to the lounge to make my body available to the community men.

As I enter the lounge, I paste on a smile. Looking unapproachable can earn a lashing from security. I head over to the bar for a drink; drinks are free for community cunts. Most men like their cunts relaxed. I order some fruity cocktail and sit down on a comfy looking couch while I wait to be approached. It doesn’t take long, unfortunately.

An older gentleman, I’d guess late sixties, approaches and settles himself next to me on the couch. I swallow the urge to groan. Are all men in this community fifty plus? Perhaps I should try a different wardrobe approach. Maybe a flirty sundress would attract a younger crowd?

I honestly don’t know why I care. A cock’s a cock. You’d think they’d all blend together, but I still prefer to be fucked by men closer to my age. Sometimes, I find the older men attractive, but the man next to me isn’t one of those men. He has a creepy vibe about him.

I give him what I hope passes as a pretty smile, and I must succeed because he smiles back and places a large, sweaty hand on my thigh.

“Hello, pretty girl. What’s an attractive young lady like you doing sitting here all alone?”

I shrug innocently and sip my drink.

“Hurry up and finish that, sweetheart. I want your hands available.”

Damn.

I was hoping he’d want to chat me up for awhile first. I reluctantly finish up my drink. He wastes no time in setting my empty glass on the side table next to us.

“Remove your panties.”

I try to keep my expression pleasant as I reach under my dress and slide my lacy panties off. He watches me lustfully.

“Climb on top of me, sweetheart– daddy wants to feel your warmth.”

I sit on his lap.

“Straddle me, sugar.”

I pull my dress up to my waist and settle my pussy on his lap, my legs on either side of his waist.

“That’s it. Ah, good girl. Now I want to feel you grind your cunt on me, baby.”

I obey, feeling him harden beneath me.

“Ah, yeah-h. Such a good little slut,” he croons.

Despite my revulsion, I increase my efforts at his encouragement; I like to please.

“Mmm… yes…

“You are one sexy little slut.

“Ah…

“Take my cock out of my pants.”

I obey, settling myself down along his bare length.

“Good. Now daddy wants to feel you grind your cunt along his cock.

“Yeah… That's it. Good girl…

“Mmm… You make daddy so hard…

“You’re a juicy little cunt. Daddy likes that.”

So I am. My cheeks warm at the realization.. It must be the way he’s praising me. For whatever reason, my body is responding to it.

“I need to be inside of you,” he rasps. “Rest your juicy hole on my tip… Ahhh, good. Now SIT!”

He sinks into me, and I begin rocking my hips. He roughly pulls my tits out of my dress and grips them firmly as I ride him.

My sense of shame increases when I realize that his cock feels surprisingly good inside of me. Before I know it, soft moans are escaping my lips.

I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at his unattractive face. With my eyes closed, I simply enjoy the sensation of his rather large cock sliding back and forth on what seems to be the perfect spot.

“Oh god,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around the man’s neck and rocking harder and faster. I feel the tension in my pussy building, and the thoughts in my head cease to exist as I focus only on the exquisite sensation of this cock rubbing me just right.

“Ohhh!” I hear myself gasp as my building climax reaches a new intensity and then suddenly explodes. I feel the man’s cock release its load inside of me at the same time. I let out a moan of pleasure and then collapse on top of him, satisfied.

I open my eyes and see that the man is smirking at me.

“You weren’t putting on an act, were you? You enjoyed fucking my cock. You really are a slut. I want you to clean our juices off my cock. You’ll probably enjoy that as well. You like all your holes used, don’t you slut?”

My face is flushed with embarrassment. I climb off of him to a stand and start to pull my dress back down to cover
myself, but the man stops me, resting his hand on mine.

“No. Take it off all the way; I want to see you.”

I take the dress off completely as the man watches me closely. I suspect he is enjoying my discomfort.

“Good. Now lick!”

I obey, trying not to cringe at the pungent taste of his cum. He moans as I continue to caress him with my tongue.

“Hmmm… your tongue feels… divine.”

I increase my efforts at his praise. He threads his fingers through my waves, holding my head firmly to his cock. I notice his cock starting to harden again, which is surprising, given his age.

“You’re an absolute goddess,” he breathes, tightening his hold on my hair. “Open your mouth wide now. Wrap your lips around my cock.”

I open wide, taking him deep until he hits the back of my throat. I try to relax my throat, though eventually my gag reflex kicks in.

“Take a breath, sweetheart. I’m coming back in.”

I gasp at the opportunity to breathe, accepting his cock back inside once my lungs have filled. The man starts fucking my mouth. I give up control and try to calm my gag reflex, though inevitably I start to choke again. This time, however, he grips my hair tightly and continues his rhythm while I choke around him.

“Hold on, slut; I’m almost there. You can breathe after.”

My face is turning red, tears streaming down my cheeks. I need to breathe. I squirm and fight for him to release me, but he just holds me mercilessly in place. Finally, I feel his cock pulsing its release down my throat. I retch onto the throw rug.

“Clean up your mess, bitch.” He walks away from me in disgust.

CHAPTER 2

This morning sucked. I was worrying constantly about what the director had planned for me, which made it hard to focus during class. So of course, Mr. Harper just had to choose this morning to call on me during his lecture on the history of male superiority. I hadn’t a clue what had just been said.

As punishment, he spanked me hard over his knee in front of the class– twenty-five times. He forced me to count out loud. I hate how they do that– it prevents you from spacing out.
My ass cheeks are still sore.

I approach the director’s office and knock gingerly on his door.

“Come in!”

I nervously enter his office and carefully keep my eyes down to show proper respect. It took several punishments to develop that habit.

“Ah, Jay-cee,” he says in a mockingly affectionate voice. He stands up from his desk chair and strolls over to where I’m standing.

“It’s always such a pleasure to see my favorite little slut.” He grabs my hair at the back of my head to tilt my gaze up towards him. “I have some fun planned for us today.” He smirks at me. “I’ll need you to remove your clothes.”

I swallow as my heart picks up its pace. I stare at his feet as I remove my white crop top– slowly, like he’s trained me to.

“Look at me while you undress,” he demands quietly.

I pause with my top halfway lifted, forcing my eyes to his. I pull it off the rest of the way, seeing his eyes sharpen as they take in my exposed tits. I take off my heels and powder blue yoga pants next. I’m not wearing panties today.

His eyes watch me hungrily.

“Now put your heels back on.”

I obey. I am now standing before him, nude but for my white stilettos.

“Now retrieve a Sharpie for me from the top right drawer of my desk.”

I frown, puzzled, but hurry to his desk to obey, feeling his eyes on my ass the whole time. I find the Sharpie and try to calm my nerves as I hand it to him.

“Has anyone ever written on you, little slut?” He grabs my hair again, forcing my head up as he leans his face in close to mine.

I gulp. “No, sir.”

“I figured this would be another first for you. It’s about time someone made it clear to the world what you are.” He uncaps the marker. “Don’t move,” he says sternly.

He writes something across my forehead, then he moves to my right cheek, followed by my left.

“Now turn around and bend over.”

I feel the marker move in large sweeps across my left buttock and then my right.

“Excellent,” he says, sounding satisfied as he admires his work. “Now you’ll retrieve the black ball gag from the bottom left drawer of my desk for me.”

I hurry to obey, but moving quickly is a bit of a challenge for me in my stilettos. You’d think I’d be used to walking in them by now, but I still feel unsteady so precariously balanced on my toes.

I stand in front of his desk, scanning his drawers. Shoot. Did he say right or left? I open the bottom right drawer, but I find it full of floggers instead. Shit!

“I said bottom left, bitch! But now that you’re there, grab me the flogger with the gold handle– you’ve earned yourself some lashes.”

Damn my terrible memory! I grab the gold handled flogger, and then move to the left of the desk for the ball gag. I return with both of them in my hands and offer them to him.

“Now open up.”

I moan as he shoves the ball into my mouth and secures it tightly at the back of my head. I hate these things. The mixed feeling of dryness while also drooling drives me nuts.

“Turn around. Bend over and grab hold of your ankles.”

I obey, bracing myself for the pain.

He swings, landing a stinging slap across my right ass cheek. I moan into the gag.

“When I speak to you, you listen carefully. I don’t like repeating myself.”

He swings again, and I grunt. He delivers the remaining blows one after the other, picking up intensity with each swing.

I’m crying now, my nose running. Finally, he decides I’ve been sufficiently punished and grabs my hair, using it to pull me back to a standing position. He leads me by the hair to a filing cabinet where he removes four leather cuffs.

“Hold your wrists out for me.”

I offer my wrists to him; he secures them tightly.

“Now your legs-- spread 'em.”

I shuffle my feet wider.

He takes a moment to run a finger over my slit.

“Mmm… such a deliciously moist cunt you have, but this afternoon I have other plans for you.”

He grabs a chair and sits down. “Give me your foot.” I struggle to balance on one stiletto, but I manage to place a foot on his lap without falling over. He secures the leather cuff to my ankle and then has me lift the other foot, cuffing it as well.

Opening another drawer, he removes a black leather harness. He places it on the ground in front of me. “Place one foot in each opening.”

I obey. He lifts the harness up until it circles my hips. Then he tightens it on each side. I notice that the harness has handles that sit on the side of my hips.

He opens another drawer and removes a short chain, about two feet in length. He attaches an end to each ankle.

“You’ll still be able to walk,” he informs me, “but this way your movements will be limited.”
He removes another chain– this one is only about a foot across; he uses it to connect my wrists together.

“We’re almost ready. You’ll be needing one last thing.” He moves to a closet and pulls out a wicker basket with a handle from the top shelf. “This is for you to carry.” He hands it to me and then opens another drawer from his desk, removing a box of con­doms.

He opens it and empties the entire contents into my basket.

“Can you guess what is written on your ass, little slut? No? Well, you’ll find out soon enough.” He winks at me with a nasty smirk on his face. “You look good,” he says, patting my ass. “Now you and I are going to take a little stroll through the park. I think you could use some fresh air.”

My heart picks up its pace. I’m starting to clue in to what his plan for me involves, and I don’t like it.

He pulls a chain link leash from his pocket and attaches it to my collar. “Come along, slut.”

He leads me by leash from his office. I attract attention from the other girls as we make our way down the hall. It’s no secret that the director seeks me out on a regular basis to train, play with, or torment. They are essen­tially one and the same. Most of the girls feel sorry for me, though I think I see what could be described as envy on some of their faces as he leads me through the halls.

We take an elevator down to the ground level. One of my teachers is in the elevator with us. He grins at me, taking in the words on my face.

“It seems you have a fun afternoon in store for you, Jaycee. I wish I was free to join you– I hate to miss out on a good time.” He pats my face. I try my best not to glare at him.

The elevator dings. The director leads me through the entryway to the courtyard outside. It’s just a five minute walk from the CCC to the park. Under different circumstances, I’d make a point of regularly enjoying the close proximity to green-space, but being out in public brings too much unwanted attention. I prefer to keep to my room as much as possible; I only leave when I’m required to be out for some assignment or chore. My room has become a safe haven.

It feels good to be outside though. It’s a sunny spring day. The air is starting to feel warmer, yet is not uncomfortably hot yet. I feel a little chilled in my nude state; it’s perfect weather for a long sleeved shirt and pants.

“Walk a little ahead of me, Jaycee. I enjoy seeing your ass in motion.” I pick up my pace so that I’m ahead of him. Awareness of his stare makes me feel self conscious.

We’ve been walking for just a couple of minutes when a man approaching from the other direction stops in front of me. He runs his eyes down the length of my body.

He is dressed in a suit and holds a briefcase. He’s good looking: dark wavy hair, green eyes, and a square chiseled face. He studies my face as well, and I feel it redden from his attention.

Do I see pity in his eyes?

“What did she do to deserve this?” he asks the director, coolly.

“She was foolish enough to try to give a little speech at her virginity auction. Her birth master is known to have a questionable relationship with the mother. He’s clearly set a poor example for his offspring of what healthy interactions between a male and a female should be like. I've been doing the cunt a favor, providing extra training and discipline, as she clearly did not receive any growing up. It would be a shame to have such an attractive cunt be led astray by a weak minded master.”

“I see.” The man rubs his chin; it seems he is trying to make up his mind about something.

“Would you like to sample her? You’ll be the first of the day. She’s got a full afternoon ahead of her. We won't be finished until her basket is empty.”

My eyes widen in alarm. The basket must contain over twenty condoms!

“Oh? Alright; I’ll knock a condom off her list. Work can wait.” He sets down his briefcase and
removes his jacket.

I start breathing faster. I shrink away from him, but I don’t make it far before the leash is taut.

The man unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock. It’s halfway erect already. He strokes himself several times and then takes a condom from my basket, sliding it over his length.

“Bend forward, sweetheart.” I grab my ankles and brace myself for pain, but instead of immediately forcing himself inside of me, he cups my pussy with his hand and gently caresses me until I’m wet and moaning into the gag. Then he places a hand on my ass and caresses it tenderly.

“If you relax, it will hurt less,” he says quietly. “Re-laaax.”

He continues his gentle massaging, gradually approaching my asshole with his tender caresses.

He wets his finger in my pussy and gently pushes it inside my ass. I reflexively clench around it.

“You need to relax, baby.”

I slowly breathe through my nose and manage to stop clenching my buttocks.

“Good girl.” He moves his finger in a circular motion, gradually encouraging me open. “That’s it; keep relaxed for me.”

He gathers more lubrication from my pussy, spreading it to my ass. I feel his tip at my back entrance, and I try my best to relax as he slowly plunges his cock inside me.

I moan around my gag at the sudden pain.

He pauses, giving me a moment to adjust to his girth. As the sharpness of the pain eases, he begins to rock his hips, holding me firmly in place by the handles on my harness.

Several thrusts later, I realize that I’m rocking my own hips in response. The sensation in my ass is still intense, but no longer painful.

He reaches around me to fondle my pussy, and I let out a muffled moan around my gag. He continues to gently touch me, while slowly fucking me.

“That’s right, baby; push into my cock– that’s a good girl!”

I find myself letting go and willingly surrendering my ass to this surprisingly gentle stranger. Even though he is taking me against my will, I can’t help but open up to him.

We find a rhythm, and together we pick up our pace. I continue to moan and rub my pussy against his fingers. It feels good.

I don’t want him to stop, but I can’t tell him with the gag in my mouth, so I just moan and push into his hand as we fuck. The sensation of fullness and pleasure consumes me, and I forget about the intimidating lineup of men that will be taking my ass next. Right now there is just one cock inside of me, and it is the only one that matters.

“Mmmm… your sweet little ass is wrapped so tightly around my cock. Keep moving your hips, baby.”

His words encourage my movements and fan into flame the building excitement in my clit. I might actually come! I’ve never come with a cock in my ass before. It has only ever been painful. But this!

The way he gently coaxed me open and is alternating between stroking my pussy and teasing my clit; I realize that I would willingly give him my ass– and my pussy too!

“Now listen, sweet slut; you’re going to come for me. And when those other men fuck your ass, I want you to think of ME and how good I made you feel. Let it happen, baby; Surrender your ass to me.”

He increases his attention to my clit, and the increased stimulation, in combination with his words, pushes me over the edge. The tension explodes. I scream into the gag as the pleasure consumes me. My body is helpless to do anything but soak in the sensations, and I collapse in the harness.

He holds me up as I ride out my orgasm.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s a good girl.”

He picks up his pace as I finish, and I feel the pulsing of his own release. He pulls on the handles, pushing hard into me, and I enjoy the intensity as he growls in pleasure.

And then he slows, breathing hard. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me in place for a few moments, and then he pulls out and supports my chest and back with his hands, pulling me up to a standing position.

I feel dazed. I wasn’t expecting this man to make me feel good at all, let alone make me come.
He grips me by an arm, using it to spin me around to face him. He reaches for the ID tag on my collar. “Thank-you, Jaycee. I enjoyed that. I hope to see you again.”

He winks at me, offers a boyish smile, and then he's zipping up his pants, putting his coat back on, and walking away with his briefcase.

The director clears his throat, reminding me of his presence. “Well that was unexpected. He broke you in well. You can be grateful; you’re well prepared and opened up now for the men in the park.

“Come, slut! Walk on ahead.” He picks up my leash and gives it a yank forward, forcing me onward.

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