Rude Awkenings - TG fiction submission

RUDE AWAKENINGS

By The Scallywags Thescallywags@aol.com

A short story by 'The Scallywags.' Please feel free to use, and abuse, this story in any way you care. Though should you want to reproduce it, do please give us suitable credit. Thank you.

The first sensations to penetrate my drug-induced coma were of an incredibly sensuous type. An extraordinary heat was effusing from my loins along with an indescribably pleasing tingling from my chest.

It was only the perception of something being repeatedly, and uncomfortably, rammed down my throat that roused me from my dream like stupor. As I tried to move my head to stop the oral intrusion, I dimly heard a man's voice say "She's coming round, you ready?" A grunt from around my still full mouth apparently signaled his accomplice's agreement. As I opened my eyes to see what on earth was happening to me, the obstacle was finally removed from my mouth, affording me a close up view of a fully erect penis, still glistening with my own saliva! The full horror of this was instantly upon me. A thoroughly erect and so obviously male penis had just been withdrawn from my mouth and throat... my throat... my male throat! Here I was, a fully heterosexual man apparently sucking some stranger's dick.

I had only seconds to comprehend this violation before the same self dick erupted a forceful stream of warm jism all upon my face and chest. As I struggled to stop this hideous defilement, I became aware of strong hands holding mine back over my head. Despite my best to break free, I was surprised by my attacker's strength as he effortlessly held me still. I was completely powerless to stop jet after powerful jet of semen from raining down upon my unprotected face and body.

Simultaneously, loud grunting from my groin made me aware once more of the wonderful feelings from my lower regions, barely able to see through eyes heavily coated in disgusting sperm, I could barely make out the sight of another man thrusting furiously away between my outstretched thighs. I was being fucked! As the second assailant's grunts reached a crescendo, so I became aware of an intense feeling of a hot liquid filling my insides, and yet rather than the sensations of a seemingly brutal and expectedly painful defilement of my virgin ass. I was awash in the rapture of an incredibly blinding orgasm. Involuntarily I found myself pushing back to meet his powerful thrusts and gripping my muscles around his jetting member still buried deep within my depths. What the fuck was happening?

As my orgasm waned, so I noticed for the first time that as well as looking at the lower assailant through badly gummed up hideously long lashes. I also noticed that my legs were seemingly clad in silk and were pushed up and back towards my head as they were held beneath my defiler's armpits. Worse of all, I realized I was also struggling to see around two sizeable, semen coated, breasts! I had tits! Such was the shock with which I received this last piece of news, that I just lay there in shock, failing to notice as my assailants used my hair, face and clothing to wipe their subsiding erections clean before beating a hasty retreat.

Stunned to my core I could only lay there as one by one the facts presented themselves to me: I had tits.

I did not feel any pain from my fucking, far from it, I had experienced an orgasm far more intense than anything I had felt before. Therefore it might be fare to surmise he had not raped my ass...

Therefore, he must have been... he could only have been fucking me in my... in my vagina. I had a cunt as well! Tits and a cunt? Such a combination existed only, at least to the best of my knowledge, on women. Therefor I was a woman! Worse, I was a woman who had just been, and seemingly enjoyably so, raped by two men! This definitely warranted further investigation. Weakly I lifted myself to a sitting position and attempted to remove some of the congealing jism from my eyes, nearly removing an eye as I discovered my fingernails were now extended a good quarter inch, and painted am alarming shade of scarlet. More carefully this time, I gently removed the worst of the cold semen from my eyes and was immediately struck by the realization that I was out in the open, lying on a bench in the middle of a large park.

Ignoring the venue for the time being, I sat fully up and surveyed my new self. I did indeed possess tits, and from this vantagepoint they seemed enormous as they swung and jiggled unencumbered by the bra that lay in tatters around my shoulders. It had been cut open at the front and could in no way be used to fetter my large and currently unruly mammary glands.

I tried to remove it, but it was held in place by the remains of my white nylon blouse, which was pushed, back down and over my shoulders. With a quick look to ensure no one was around, I removed the blouse and bra before trying my best to cover my new found treasure with the remains of my blouse. My attempts at covering my large breasts were hampered by the fact that my assailants had ripped the blouse open to gain access to my charms, resulting in the top four buttons having disappeared. I did my best to cover them and was rewarded with the majority of my charms being hidden moderately, though the filmy material was not designed to be opaque and their shape and darker nipples, jutting forth alarmingly, were clearly discernible through it. Especially where large globules of foreign semen coated them, causing the material to go completely transparent and stick to my freely swinging and undeniably impressively sized tits. Satisfied I could do no more with them for now, I lowered my inspection to my hips and below.

A dark pink skirt was yanked up over my hips, revealing a neatly trimmer square of pubic hair atop a pouting pussy that showed all the evidence of having been very recently pillaged. Black garter tabs appeared from below the skirt and secured a pair of black stockings, one badly laddered, around my thighs. All clothing below my hips appeared to have played host to a party of snails as trail after trail of silvery semen intersected all over.

A thorough survey of my immediate surroundings failed to produce the hoped for underwear, leaving to me the conclusions that I had either not been wearing any, or, more likely I felt, my assailants had taken them as some kind of trophy.

Staggering to my feet, I made two more discoveries. Firstly, my feet were encased in ridiculously high-heels; an inspection revealed them to be around four-inch heels atop two black pumps.

The second became apparent as, teetering atop the ghastly unfamiliar heels, I struggled to work the tight fitting skirt back over my voluminous hips. It was a mini-skirt, barely covering the tops of my stockings and had a large tear in back, thus ensuring it in no way covered my thighs and lower buttocks from behind.

One great piece of news was that I did find a purse and sitting back down on the bench I explored the once alien world of women's handbags to discover my new identity.

A Californian ID card revealed I was not licensed to drive, but I apparently still lived in Los Angeles, but other than that there was no comforting familiarity to be had. I learned I was now named Candie B.J. Row and from the small but relatively clear photograph upon the license, I was surprised to see I was of an obviously Asian lineage. The most discomforting fact to be gleaned from the small slip of plastic was that I was undeniably, drop-dead, gorgeous. Long black hair framed a classically beautiful face. My sparkling blue eyes drew you in while my lips bore a highly sexually inviting pout, even in such an unflattering image as this.

I read on to learn that I now resided at 1205 Riverside Drive, in apartment 105, in Hollywood (not an area I was familiar with in my old, masculine, identity. I also found out I was now nearly a foot shorter at 5' 2", six years younger at 22, weighed in at a featherweight 105 pounds.

A thorough investigation of the remaining contents of my handbag revealed I was seemingly a sexually active girl, as attested to by the presence of a packet of birth control pills and six condoms! I appeared to prefer cosmetics of a, shall we say, vivid nature, evidenced by the resplendently colored eye shadow, blusher, and lipsticks that the bag contained.

I also found a small compact mirror, which I used to get my first glimpse of my new face. Once again this revealed two undeniable truths: I was gorgeous and covered in semen.

The handbag also produced a tissue that I used to remove the worst of the now glutinous semen, but this resulted in the obvious need for a makeup touch up. I was surprised to find that I was quite expert in the administration of blusher and lipstick, though the mascara was a good deal more trickier to apply due to the monstrous false eyelashes I sported. Still, as I surveyed the finished result, I was quite pleased with the beautiful face that stared back at me. The look was definitely not demure, seeming to scream wanton sexuality, but the worst of my rapists cum was gone.

With the handbag revealing no other great secrets, apart from some keys and the fact that my purse was devoid of cash, I decided I had better get myself out of here and see if the keys fitted the address on my license.

Slowly I familiarized myself with the art of walking atop sharply pointed high-heels, unaware of the lascivious way in which I unknowingly gyrated my hips, ass and unsecured bosom, and made my way down the slight incline towards the nearest exit from the park. All the time wondering exactly how I had been transformed from a happy heterosexual male into such a seemingly gorgeous example of wanton femininity.

My pondering was briefly interrupted by the realizations that I could feel my rapists semen beginning to run out of my pussy and down my inner thighs. Unfortunately I had thrown away my only Kleenex and so could now do nothing to stop the gradual trickle as I felt it reach my stocking tops.

I was so engrossed by the disgusting sensations of another man's cum running slowly down my thighs that it was not until a stranger accosted me and accused me of being a whore, that I realized both my breasts had worked free from the confines of my jism stained blouse. Worse, they were still obviously jism covered and sported two nipples fully erect from their exposure to the evenings cool air. I quickly did my best to secure them back behind the inadequate layer of flimsy white nylon and continued to sashay my way down the street in search of my bearings.

Once again my lack of attention caused me humiliation, this time as I inadvertently walked across an iron grating. Of course the sharp heel of my stilettos got stuck, causing me to fall over, my skirt riding fully up over my shapely but cum soaked ass and my tits spilling free again. Worse, as I did my best to cover myself and so regain the merest hint of modesty, I found I had broken the heel and now had a most pronounced limp, further exaggerating both the sway of my ass and the gyrations of my unfettered breasts.

TWO By the time I found my new abode I was exhausted, I had suffered the indignity of being chased by two dogs, my resultant attempt to flee had ensured no part of my considerable charms had remained concealed. The rent in my skirt now well up over my incredibly shapely ass affording everyone a free view of my tanned ass cheeks and now cum drenched thighs. It was, in all honestly, a miracle I had made it home at all. I had been accosted by several strange men, each convinced that I was a hooker, and had had to practically fight of the persistent sexual advances of a decidedly drunk teenager who obviously felt I was fare game.

Finally secure behind an unfamiliar front door, I took stock of my new situation. I had somehow, miraculously, been transformed from a gainfully employed male, into... into what? A young woman, obviously in her prime, but what were my new circumstances? What could I do for cash? Was I employed? As I stood there in the comfortably appointed, but unfamiliar, surroundings of my new abode, my musings were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing close to hand.

I quickly located the phone in the kitchen and with a feeling of great trepidation I reached out a bejeweled and long-nailed hand to pick up the receiver.

"Hello" I quietly offered.

"Well hello Candy," came a vaguely familiar voice in response. "How are you settling in?"

"Um... who is this?" I ventured.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize my voice?" was the obviously surprised response. I did recognize it, it was definitely familiar, but where had I heard it?

"No. I don't think I do, who is this?" I asked again.

"Well, I am surprised, I recognize your voice fine. You'd think you'd recognize the voice you used for the past near thirty years!" My God! It was me! I was speaking to the old me! My gasp obviously told the caller, me, that recognition, and a good deal of shock, had set in. I listened to the familiar laugh at the other end of the line. "Yes, that's right, I'm now you and you are now me! How are you settling into your new body?

Did you like the little awakening I arranged for you? We got some great shots of you and your two... new friends shall we say?"

I was too flabbergasted to reply as I stood in my new kitchen partially undressed as I caught site of my reflection in the hall mirror. I was definitely drop-dead gorgeous with a body to die for and a face that could easily surpass Helen of Troy's when it came to launching ships! My clothes were in utter disarray with my breasts barely concealed behind a decidedly grubby looking blouse and now both my tattered pink skirt and black stockings sporting highly visible damp patches.

The caller, the old me, interrupted my trance, "Bet your wondering how we did it? Well I won't bore you with the technicalities, but they tell me it was quite a simple matter of transferring our minds. Now I have your body and you have mine. Better still, now I have your life and you are stuck with mine. You just wait until you see all the little surprises I have in store for you. We've been planning this for years."

"Years? How? Why?" I stammered.

More laughter, "Oh it's nothing personal Candie, well not completely anyway, we just needed access to some of your research. We'd tried approaching you and you had made it clear you wanted no part in our operation, but, you see, we needed your work and had to get it one way or another. The fact of the matter is that you mightily pissed off my boss with your holier than thou act. And besides, this way we all get to enjoy your future ordeal as an added bonus.

"You see my dear, unlike you, I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I have arranged... shall we say certain treats for you! Certain little traps that you can have no way of foreseeing. Traps that will lay dormant until you just happen along.

We are going to have so much fun with you Miss Candie, oh by the way; do you like your new name? I changed mine about two months ago, all ready for our little switcheroo', I especially like the BJ' as a middle name, I don't suppose it will take anyone very long to work out exactly what it stands for! "

With a decidedly sinking feeling in my stomach I ventured, "You said traps, like what?"

"Well your job for instance. You probably haven't discovered it yet, but you are employed as a secretary at a nearby office, the trouble is you, that is to say I, stole a rather large sum of money, since spent I'm afraid to tell you. And now, somehow or other the office lech, your new boss, Mr. Rogers, has discovered this fact. I'm pretty sure he will want to have a hearty face to face with you first thing tomorrow. I should perhaps tell you that I had been going out of my way to tease and humiliate him at every opportunity for the past two months in anticipation of this day.

"So there you have it, tomorrow you get to see exactly what old Randy Rogers has in mind for you, who knows it might be jail, but I suspect otherwise. Regardless, you will have no choice but to comply as I have emptied your, that is to say my old, accounts. You are penniless and the rent is due dear girl, and with this theft thing hanging over your head another job is out of the question. I am afraid you have to decide to either comply with Rogers every command, or spend the next five years, as Big Bad Bertha's little lesbian slave inside jail. The choice is yours!"

A final bout of hysterical laughter, a cry of "We'll talk again soon", and the phone went dead.

I slowly recovered from the worst of the call's shock... I had to come to terms with the fact that the caller was the old me! I was no longer was Alan Borne, research scientist for Adantex Pharmaceuticals. Obviously the work I had been leading into genetic re-engineering had led to my current demise.

After much sitting around thinking of anyway out of my ridiculous predicament, and realizing that there was no way I could convince anyone of the truth, I finally realized the futility, and with the sun now well and truly set decided to meet what ever came my way head on. I spent the remainder of the Sunday evening showering off the physical evidence of my assault, and then exploring my new and humble accommodation dressed in the only evening wear available to me; a pink lace peignoir and three inch matching, fur trimmed mule slippers.

The apartment, though nicely decorated in an obviously feminine decor, was pretty small. Comprising of little more than a kitchen, bathroom, and reasonably spacious living area and bedroom. The bedroom was unmistakably feminine, from the bright pink covered four poster, matching dresser and white and pink curtains. A door off the bedroom led to a small ground floor balcony, surrounded by white iron fencing.

I returned to the bedroom and began familiarizing myself with the contents of the drawers and closets. The top drawer contained a vast collection of panties and bras; everyone was of a decidedly sexy nature. All the panties were thong types, with a couple of pairs of slit crutch thrown in, the bras (I learned I was sized 36D) were equally sexy and either low cut, padded (like I needed any help there) or designed to further push my treasure up and out.

It quickly became apparent as I worked through drawer after drawer of ultra-sexy teddies, garter belts, stockings and night wear, that I would need to invest some money in a decidedly less revealing wardrobe. This was further evidenced by the two closets, which revealed row after row of short skirts, minimal dresses, ridiculously high-heels, and not a pair of pants to be had.

The dresser was covered with bottles and tubes of makeup, each a similarly vivid color to that I had found in my purse, and a massive collection of obviously cheap jewelry.

The bathroom turned up nothing more surprising than a box of tampons, bringing home the realization that I would have the pleasures of my menstrual cycle to look forward to. An unbelievably large box of condoms, proclaiming to contain `100 ribbed Pleasure-Seekers', a tray of bottles containing the better known, and cheaper, brands of perfume, and the other normal accruements associated with any bathroom completed the contents.

Realizing I was famished, I turned my attention to the kitchen, a thorough exploration of which revealed that tonight I would be dining on tuna and crackers, there being little else other than milk and coffee.

As I sat at the small dining table between the kitchen and the living room, I studied all the documents my exploration had turned up. It was by this means that I learned where I worked - Peeve's Rubber Goods, and was expected there, about four blocks away, at 8:00AM tomorrow. I had apparently only had the job for about three months, and could find no record of previous employment.

Resigned to my fate, I drew the drapes as best I could, there not being enough material to completely cover the opening, affording anyone outside by the pool an easy way to spy no me unseen. I sat with my legs drawn up under me, pulling the peignoir to cover my long shapely legs, and did my best to loose myself in the mindless chatter provided by my television.

After about an hour of fruitless watching I gave up, set the coffee machine to go off automatically and then retired to bed. I kind of surprised myself by electing to slip on an all too skimpy baby doll negligee before climbing between the pink satin sheets where I tossed and turned until the small hours before I finally drifted off into a restless slumber.

THREE My alarm dragged me from a nightmare where I had somehow been transformed in to a glamorous fox of a woman. The realization that it was no nightmare came in the form of my large chest shifting beneath me as I rolled over to silence the alarm.

With a growing sense of dread I climbed from between the pink silk sheets and moved unconsciously seductively to the shower.

Once cleaned and my long hair dried, I set about determining what I should wear to my first day, to all intents and purposes, of work at Peeve's Rubber Goods. After much deliberations I eventually settled upon the most modest bra and panties I could find, a pair of plain white panties and equally plain bra. Tan hose covered my shapely legs, which were hidden as much as possible by the longest skirt I could find, a black number reaching down as far as my knees. A black blouse covered my tits as much as could be hoped for due to their size. Minimal makeup and jewelry, along with a pair of flat black shoes, completed my attire, I was ready.

Having already established that I did not possess either car or license, I made sure to leave myself enough time to walk the four blocks to work. In fact I arrived about twenty minutes early and was fairly easily able to find where Mr. Rogers office, and hence mine, were located.

Rogers was already in and my fears about the honesty of the `previous me's' confession were soon realized when he ordered me into his office and fully outlined what he had uncovered. I was surprised to discover that Mr. Rogers was a large black man, and when I say large, I mean large, easily over three hundred pounds in size.

He was quickly on the offensive, telling me of the crime he had uncovered. I had apparently, and there would be no point trying to explain that it was not me but the former me, made off with a little over ten thousand dollars! Mr. Rogers told me that if I could repay the money then it would go no further, but if not then, well than he would have to decide upon a suitable action. I did my best to explain that I no longer had the money, but was hampered in not being able to explain what had happened to it. Back and forth we argued for well over one hour, all the while realizing exactly how bad my situation was.

Finally, Rogers played his ace. "Well that's all very well Candie," he said as he brushed aside my last and most futile attempt at extricating myself from this horrid mess. "But this is how it is going to be from now on, that is unless you really want me to call the police in and have you publicly charged with the theft of over ten thousand dollars?"

I demurely shook my head as I lowered my gaze to the floor, missing the evil look of triumph that now lit up his fat face.

"I thought not. Good. Well from now on you are going to pay for the terrible way you have treated me for the past six months. No!" He held up a hand, cutting off my attempt at protesting, "I do not want to hear it. You have been a right little cock tease of late, and now, thanks to your own stupidity, you are going to pay for it. Maybe not financially, though I have a few ideas about that also, but mainly physically. From now on my dear Candie, you are going to be my very own little sex slave."

My eyes shot up to meet his and any questions about his seriousness were immediately dismissed as I saw the look upon his fat face, it was one of pure triumph. He knew that I had absolutely no choice but to succumb to the fate he chose. My head, beaten fell once more to gaze upon the floor.

"Good" he continued, "let me spell out exactly how it is going to be from now on. Firstly, you will be very attentive and affectionate towards me. You will appear to really care about me and how I am doing, and more importantly, you will feel compelled to constantly be touching me. And, if the occasion permits it, you will either be trying to get your hands down my pants, or rubbing some part of yourself against me. Now I may well order you to stop such a `disgusting' display, which you will do, briefly, before appearing unable to stop for long and thus resuming in an even more lurid manner.

Secondly, you will have to start dressing a little sexier." He stared at me with obvious disdain, "Stand up, let me have a look at you."

Slowly at first, but quicker once he roared his disquiet at me, I stood up before him.

"Take off your blouse" he barked, and with shaking fingers I made to comply. "Now that's exactly what I mean, that bra is no way sexy enough for a slut like you. Take it off."

Fighting back very real tears I eased my hands behind my back and unclasped it, slowly bringing it around the front to cover my mammoth jugs.

"Now throw it away, I will not have my sex slave wearing such an unsexy garment." I did as he dictated and so stood before him naked from the waist up.

"That's better. Wow! Candie, you really are stacked. Tell you what, loose the skirt and then do a few jumping jacks for me."

"What here?" I blurted, unable to stop myself.

"Yes here!" He roared, "Don't you dare question me. If I give you a command you just do it, immediately and quietly, now is that clear?"

I nodded my assent. "Well then?"

I quietly slipped out of my skirt and stood before him wearing nothing other than my white cotton panties over tan hose and shoes. Realizing this was my lot from now on; I began leaping in the air with my arms and legs spread as far apart as I could get them. Each and every jump caused maximum displacement to my breasts as they furiously bounced and bucked upon my chest. After about two minutes of this he amused himself by switching his attention to my discarded shirt.

Taking a pair of scissors from his desk he roughly cut a good twelve inches from the hem.

"OK you can stop now." With my breath coming in ragged gasps I stood mutely before him. "Loose the panties, there's no way a slut like you can wear something as conservative as them. The hose goes too."

The scissors were used to remove several buttons from my blouse before I was ordered to get dressed. Now I stood before him in a drastically shortened skirt, the ragged hem of which came perilously close to revealing the lower part of my ass cheeks, and a blouse which could not be done up past my cleavage.

"That's a lot better. From now on your attire is going to be... well shall we say a good deal sluttier. I want no hemlines to be past the end of your fingers, and all skirts must be really tight and figure hugging. Bras and panties when you wear them, and I want you to be sure to not wear one or the other at least two days every week, will be tight, sexy and brightly covered. A slut like you has no right wearing white, so I want to see lots of reds, blacks, blues, gold, yellows, lime greens etceteras. Ideally they will be coordinated, along with your garter belts, for pantyhose is also definitely a no, no, and will clash with your outer wear. If you are wearing a red top and black skirt, then your panties, bra and garter belt should be lime green, yellow or something that will stand out well when exposed. And believe me, it will be exposed! "I think your shoes should have at least a four inch heel on them and should clash with your clothes, and both your jewelry and make up will be on the decidedly heavy side. You know what I mean. Lots of chandelier and hoop earrings, loads of bangles and necklaces, and false eyelashes, plenty of blusher, lipstick and liner and I cannot wait to see you in some iridescent eye shadow. Now what do you have to say to that, do you think a little fuck toy like you Candie can mange all that, or should I enforce it with a good spanking?

There was no doubt he was entirely serious in his every word. "No thank you Mr. Rogers, I think I can remember all of that." I stammered in reply.

"Good. Well just to be sure why don't you type it all up as a memo that we can both sign, just to be sure you know." I made to head off out to my desk outside his office.

"Oh one more thing Candie, as you are now officially my little sex toy, don't you think it would be a good idea if you were to thank me properly?"

Was he serious? Thank him? His look quickly persuaded me of the futility in voicing my true thoughts regarding his suggestion, instead I adopted a saccharin sweet smile and replied "Well of course Mr. Rogers, thank you so much for going to all the trouble to help me..."

His smile told me there was more, his word confirmed it: "Why don't you keep thanking me like that while you give my dick a good sucking."

And so, swallowing my pride (whilst preparing to possibly swallow a good deal worse) and reflecting on the circumstances that had overnight turned me from a successful young heterosexual male into another mans whore, I dropped to my knees and moved towards his crotch under the glass topped desk. Crawling on all fours I made my way between his spread knees and surveyed the odious task before me, already there was a visible swelling within the confines of his shiny nylon Dockers. Tentatively I reached out a manicured hand and pulled down his zipper, all the time fighting back the palpable revulsion that was rising in my stomach.

"Don't forget to let me hear you enthusiastically thanking me" came the order from above.

"Thank you so much Mr. Rogers" I cooed as I reached my delicate hand into the steamy confines of his underwear and worked the awakening black monster free. And a monster it was, much longer and wider than the penis I had once enjoyed owning so much. As it slowly grew to it's full size, it must have been fully nine inches long and my scarlet nailed hand barely encircled it, such was its girth.

"Thank you for letting me be your little sex slave" I mouthed as I lowered my head towards his glans, already glistening with the first tear of pre-cum. I knew that my much shortened skirt had ridden up high enough to afford anyone entering the office a wonderful view of my unprotected pussy and ass, but was unable to do anything about it as I concentrated on not being sick and on the task before me.

Following his encouragement, I enthusiastically thanked him for `allowing' me to serve him as his personal whore as I rained little kisses upon his helmet before I slowly lowered my mouth over the monster.

Rogers was free with his advice as to exactly what he wanted me to do. I obediently followed his every command as I slid the repulsive organ fully home down my throat, swirled my tongue around the sensitive underside of his glans, all the while telling him what a lucky little slut I was to have such a manly master.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours as I knelt uncomfortable between his bulky thighs, he came. The first indication I had of his impending orgasm was the feeling of his strong hands on the back of my head as he took two large handfuls of my auburn hair and forced me fully down on his penis. I fought to control both the physical and mental gag reflexes as my nose was forced into his black and wiry pubic hair, while his penis stretched my throat to amazing proportions. Using my hair as handles he worked my throat up and down the monsters length in ever quickening thrusts, before I felt the first of many streams of hot cum jet into my throat and down into my stomach. Wave after wave of salty jism spurted endlessly into my insides as he slowly worked my throat and mouth back up his length. And still he came, so much so that when only the head was still in my mouth, his cum came too quickly for me to swallow it all. Involuntarily I coughed large globules of it out so that it ran past my lips, down my chin and dropped onto my blouse and cleavage below.

Finally he was satiated and released his grip on my hair, permitting me to crawl backwards from under his desk, my skirt catching and ridding fully up over my shapely ass.

"Wow! That was great Candie, I always figured you for a world class cock sucker and now I know I was right. Well we will have to make that your first job every day. From now on, you will be sure to arrive in the office before me and be sure to have a fresh cup of coffee ready for my arrival. Once I am settled in I will summon you on the intercom and you can bring me my coffee and then suck my dick exactly as you did just then. Is that clear bitch?"

Yes Mr. Rogers" I obediently recited, "I will arrive before you, have a cup of coffee ready, then await your... await your command to come in, serve you your coffee and then suck your dick."

"Good. Good girl, I think we are going to get along just fine. Now be sure to rub my seed into your tits and face, we don't want to waste any of it." He smiled condescendingly at me as I worked the foul fluid into my skin where it had landed. "Oh, and a couple of other points came to me... came to me, get the pun?"

I dutifully laughed at his stupid joke.

"I think you would look much sexier as a blond. So tonight I will make an appointment for you at a friend of mines salon where he will color your hair, as well as a few other minor changes I will let him know of. Here, take down his address, I will be asking him about your behavior, so be sure to be polite and do exactly what he says, you understand?"

Once more, I adopted the saccharin sweet smile he liked and swore my total obedience.

I wrote down the address in my notebook and then made my way out of his office to prepare the memo detailing the incredible changes he wanted in my appearance and behavior.

The rest of the day past reasonably uneventfully. I typed up the memo, made the changes he ordered, by the time he had done with it, it was no longer just a memo, but to all intents and purposes a very official looking contract. There was no mention of the fact that I was being blackmailed into signing it, instead it appeared that this was a contract I was enthusiastically entering in to under my own free will.

It covered everything from my willing agreement to dress like a total slut, down to my going without bra and panties on different days, meaning that on only two days would I be permitted to wear a complete set of underwear. Those days were to be potentially spoilt by a clause that empowered Mr. Rogers to dictate whether I should `enjoy' some type of toy. It also went on to spell out how I was at all times to be flirtatious with all members of staff, regardless of how they treated me, that I should at all times wear a beatific smile, regardless of my circumstances. That I should always bend over from the hips (ensuring my backside would be frequently displayed) and that I was to be completely submissive to Mr. Rogers and anyone else he indicated. Each clause had a penalty, which would either be fiscal, or far worse, some punishment to be devised by Mr. Rogers. In other words, I was screwed, both physically and figuratively.

As the final order of business for my first day as his personal whore, I was made to erotically strip to some old slow song on his CD player. I then had to entice his penis back into sizeable life before climbing over it and slowly lowering myself down to be impaled upon its considerable mass. Then, as I raised and lowered myself in a slow rhythm, he made me read out the contract, initialing each and every clause, before finally signing my new name at the bottom of each page.

By far the worse part of this whole ordeal was that I myself orgasmed as I now frantically leapt up and down upon his solid cock. Despite my very best efforts to fight the rising tide of sexual energy that rose from my loins like an unchecked fire, I could do nothing to prevent the shuddering climax that rocketed through me as he pinched down hard upon my distended nipples.

Still worse was the fact that none of this was missed by my abuser, and he loved every second of it, insisting, "That's it my slut, I knew you were a hot little whore. Let me hear you cum, raise the roof with your screams, I never want there to be any doubt you are orgasaming, let me hear your screams."

And so I let the full sexual energy of my orgasm vent, I screamed every repulsive word, phrase and cliche he suggested.

"Yes baby, fuck me with your solid dick. Pound your monster cock in my pussy. Oh yes, I love your big black cock reaming my tight white pussy" I screamed and much, much more as I felt his seed filling my pussy while I succumbed to a second and even a third orgasm of my own.

When we were both done, I sat drained and still impaled upon his softening colossus.

"Now that's what I call a fuck!" he laughed, "be sure to always make that much noise when ever you orgasm, I ever find out you kept silent I will be sure to make matters a good deal worse for you.

"I think we will make a good reaming of your cunt, and maybe even your ass, the final order of the day. Under no circumstances are you to clean yourself up, I like the idea of you having to walk home with my seed running down your legs.

"Now I have made you an appointment at Antoine's for five thirty, so that gives you twenty five minutes to get your skinny white ass over there. You are to walk there, no taking the bus or accepting rides, I want my seed clear down to your ankles by the time you get there. That way everyone will see, and smell, exactly what a little whore you are. Now get off me and get yourself down to Main Street."

I obediently climbed from his lap, fighting the strong urge to wipe some of our combined juices that immediately dripped from my pussy. Quickly I got dressed in the remains of my skirt and blouse and, as ordered, stopped on my way out the door to loudly say, That was a great fuck lover boy, Thank you." Before blowing him a loud kiss while leaning over to ensure anyone in the corridor would be able to easily see up my shortened skirt to my semen drenched pussy lips. I then wiggled my way past the hateful glances of the few people still in the office, out the front door and off to the next scene of my continuing degradation.

FOUR Rogers certainly got his wish about his cum running down my legs. By the time I reached the salon, a little before five thirty, it was clearly down past my knees and highly visible as it glistened against my tanned legs. By far the worse part was the odor; even I could smell it strongly, as the unmistakable scent of fresh sex wafted after me as I sashayed along the rush hour sidewalk. My unsupported breasts doing their damnedest to leave the inadequate confines of my open blouse and the hem of my severely shortened pleated skirt occasionally revealing even more of my ass and pussy as it was lifted by the occasional breeze.

As I entered the salon, Antoine came over to introduce himself. "You must surely be Candie? Bill Rogers gave us a description of his new whore, but I must say he didn't do you justice." Any ideas I had that this might be a compliment, where dashed by his next words, "No, you are even more of a slut than he said. We could smell your rank pussy a good block away! "Now get your jism filled ass over to that chair, but wait, let me put some newspaper on it so that you don't ruin the upholstery."

The snickers and loathing glances of the staff and other customers were further humiliation, as I had to stand by the chair while he laid out the newspaper as if for a cat or other pet. Only when it was covered by a layer several pages thick was I permitted to sit.

For the next two and a half hours I was forced to sit there and endure a steady level of abuse from staff and customers alike as Antoine and his assistant set upon me with countless tools, chemicals and other instruments of feminine beautification. The salon was warm and it felt kind of good to be the subject of their ministrations, and so after the rigors of my day, I dozed off in to an exhausted and very deep sleep.

When, finally I was awoken and ordered to stand I caught my first site of the new me in the proffered mirror, I was dumbfounded. Firstly I was naked, and secondly I had known I was to be made a blond, but nothing could have prepared me for this transformation.

My hair, originally straight, shoulder length, and black, was now an enormous pile of highly teased almost psychedelic platinum, piled so high as to add a good eight inches to my height.

My face, also transformed through multiple layers of garishly colored cosmetics, was framed by several layers of the newly brilliant blond ringlets that originated either side of my tricked out bangs that curled down to stop just above my eyebrows. The majority of my hair had been teased and fluffed out and was held in place by what must have been a full can of hairspray into what can only be described as a really `big do.' Stunned beyond words, I raised a delicate hand to my face, only to see that I now sported talons a full inch longer than anything that could be described as natural fingernails. They were monstrous and I could not begin to imagine how I would be able to perform the simplest of tasks with them.

Aghast at the reflection of the new me, I slowly recognized the other liberties that had been taken with me, my ears now sported two new holes each so that I now had a total of four piercings in each. My toenails now matched my fingers in that both were painted a startlingly vivid pink that other than the multiple layers of gloss lacquer that made them shine so, matched the dark red lined and highly glossed lipstick upon my open mouthed lips. Apparently an electrolysis device had been used to finely shape my eyebrows into a high arch, accentuating my baby blue eyes. At least the little you could see of them through the glutinous coats of mascara that had been used to thicken the enormous false eyelashes through which I peered involuntarily seductively. A kingfisher bright blue and silvery gray shadow had been heavily applied to my eyelids, further accentuating my eyes, while giving the unmistakable message that I was no more than a total slut.

The last revelation to permeate the shock was that I was no bald down below, apparently the same electrolysis gun had been used to totally remove any last vestige of my pubic hair. The final liberty being that I now sported a tattoo where once my pubes had resided. In small black letters, though large enough to be clearly legible from a distance, was the legend; PUBLIC PROPERTY, and then below, TRY ME. With a big red arrow pointing down to my highly visible denuded pussy lips, still leaking Mr. Rogers and my love juices.

To the hoots of derision from the other employees, the other customers having long since left, I hurriedly squeezed my way back into my blouse and too short skirt, but could not find my shoes.

Seeing what I was looking for, Antoine offered, "Oh don't bother about those old shoes, Bill said to get you something more suitable to wear home. So we got you these." He held out a pair of white strappy sandals of which the soles, at two inches, were higher than the heels of the pair I had worn in here. They were monstrous set atop heels a good six-inches high and with a large gold buckle securing the strap above each ankle. I could barely walk in them such was there height.

When I did at least mange to move without breaking an ankle, they served to even further accentuate the way in which I involuntarily swung my hips and deliciously shaped ass from side to side, in turn causing my unfettered breasts to gyrate and wobble in an altogether lascivious manner.

"Bill says you are to wear them tomorrow and to keep your makeup intact so that he can see it" Antoine said as he guided me towards the exit. There was obviously no sympathy to be had for my plight in the salon and I was hurried out the front door to make my way home.

The streets were now dark and definitely no place for a young lady to be, especially one so scantily dressed as me. Still I made it home with little more than five propositions, two confrontations with women accusing me of being the whore I felt.

One of them spat in my face and would have got a good deal more physical if I had not taken to flight, breasts and ass all over the place. That and the humiliation of being followed to my front door by a police cruiser obviously convinced I was up to no good made up my mind that I would not be going out again tonight.

I had never felt so relived to be home in my life. Even another call from the `old me', inquiring as to my day, and insisting I tell every little juicy secret, did not dispel the feeling of relief I had at being safe in at least some kind of sanctuary. Only the promise of more little traps lying in store for me reminded me that it was a long way from over.

FIVE The next morning found me at work, preparing a pot of fresh coffee, at precisely seven thirty.

At a little before eight, the man himself arrived, breezing past me without so much as a `good morning.' A short while later the intercom on my desk barked with the sound of his voice ordering me to come straight in. I quickly poured him a cup of coffee and teetered in atop the ridiculous sandals.

"Ah, good morning slut," he said as he surveyed me in my new ridiculous hair-do. It had taken me over thirty minutes this morning just to get my hair fluffed up to all its glory, plus another half-hour to retouch my makeup. "I must say you are looking a lot better this morning. Turn around let me get a good look at you.

Still tottering atop the six-inch heels, I slowly rotated on the spot, permitting him to take in the full sight of me. I was wearing the high-heels; the garish pink nail polish clearly visible through the open toed sandal and my bright white stockings. The stockings served to accentuate my long legs as they tapered up until they disappeared beneath the way too short hem of the red mini-skirt I had elected to wear. The skirt was stretched tightly over my shapely ass with the garter straps securing my stocking tops fractionally below the hemline, clearly discernible through the thin fabric. A silky looking bright yellow blouse was stretched equally tightly across my plentiful bosom, and as per my orders the top four buttons were left undone to ensure little of my deep cleavage was hidden. The front of my blouse was actually open enough to afford everyone frequent glimpses of the lime green pushup bra I wore which served to further accentuate my splendid d^Âcolletage.

For the next ten minutes I was forced to assume all manner of sexy poses as the perverted Bill Rogers enjoyed the new me. My modeling career really took off when he suddenly leapt to his feet, announcing, "Hold it right there, don't you dare move. I have an idea..." And with that he rushed out of his office.

He returned a few minutes later, carrying an expensive looking 35mm camera. My jaw dropped as I realized what he had in store for me next.

Sure enough, I was then made to repeat all the ridiculously sexy poses as he snapped away with a blinding flash. Slowly I removed piece after piece of my clothing, until I lay reclined across his desk wearing nothing other than my stockings, garter belt, shoes and my permanently glued in place smile. He had me bed over his desk affording the camera easy access to my denuded pussy, delighting in telling me how much he liked my fresh tattoo.

Finally, after three whole rolls of thirty-six exposure film had been used, he was satisfied that he had covered my humiliation from every conceivable angle. "Right then," he said "let's get my morning blow job out of the way and then you can run these down to the film lab."

And so I once more assumed my position under his glass topped desk and set to work on his enormous tool still only clad in stockings, garter belt and shoes. Midway through, with his member buried all the way in my seemingly willing mouth, I was interrupted by him saying, "Oh come on in Mike, don't mind young Candie here, she's got her mouth full right now!"

His strong hands held my head in place, preventing me from seeing exactly who Mike was, and I was left with no alternative but to get back to the task of bringing him off while he enjoyed a pleasant chat with the unseen stranger. Of course I was the central theme of their conversation, mainly Rogers telling Mike how hot I was for him' and how willing I was to anything to please him.' Inevitably, as my head bobbed furiously up and down Rogers' impressive shaft while my evilly nailed hand gently massaged his large testicles, Mike inquired if my `services were available to anyone?' Bill Rogers did not disappoint my already low opinion of him as he replied, "Oh sure Mike, Candie loves to fuck anyone, though I did hear there she usually charges new comers."

My god, he was now acting as my pimp! I would have bitten him but for the strong grip he took on my hair as he said it.

Mike was not dissuaded in the slightest by the revelation that I was apparently a hooker. "Sure, if that's the case, I have a couple of buddies who would love a piece of ass like that. But tell me, does she mind a little bit of... well shall we say S and M?"

"Sadomasochism? Hell no! Candie's really into that shit. There's nothing she loves more than being tied up and being forced to perform all manner of weird shit."

Mike was clearly impressed, "Great, any idea how much she charges?"

Rogers was clearly in his element as he held off his orgasm to ensure I was fully distracted, "Well I'll have a word with her when she's free. I'm sure that for a friend of mine she'd be happy to offer a discount. How long you thinking of?"

"Well, how about a weekend?"

`A weekend?! Please God, don't let him do it. A whole weekend of weird S&M shit could kill me. Please let him be a greedy bastard and make the price too high' I silently prayed as I tried to slide a talon nail up Bill Rogers sphincter. Partly to bring him off quickly so that I could participate in the conversation, and also to hopefully cause him a little discomfiture.

As if reading my mind, Rogers replied, "Well, we'll have to talk with Candie when she's free, but I don't think it would be more than a couple of hundred dollars."

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He had done it. Not only was I now officially a hooker, a pussy for hire, but I was a cheap one too! Inevitably, Mike recognized this for the bargain it was. "Deal!" he cried. Get her to check her calendar to see when she's free and we'll set it up as soon as possible."

Sure thing Mike, I'll send her to see you later."

And so he left. Now without distraction Mr. Rogers was suddenly able to shot a very full load of his hot cum straight into my throat and mouth. He was careful to ensure that at least part of it ended up running from my overly full mouth to run down my chin and onto my breasts below which I then had to massage in.

SIX I was permitted to get fully dressed though, unknown to me at the time, Mr. Rogers deciding to take advantage of clause 3.6.2 in our contract was about to have another idea. I was then dispatched to the photo lab, some five blocks south, to drop off the films he had shot earlier. With instructions to obtain a receipt, to ensure I had indeed dropped off the films which he carefully sealed along with instructions as to what he expected in a tamper-evident envelope.

As I made to leave the office, Rogers called me back. "Hang on a minute Candie."

"Yes Mr. Rogers?" I dutifully answered, wearing the obligatory smile, despite the sensations of contracting flesh caused by the drying cum on my perfectly displayed breasts.

"I have an idea." His smile left me in no doubt that I would not like it. He furiously scribbled a lengthy note, before sealing it in an envelope and scrawling a name and address on the outside. "Here, I want you to make a detour to see this man," he handed me an envelope and I read the street address about a mile from the office. "Ask for Jeff." He continued, "He's an old friend of mine, and give him the envelope. It contains instructions as to what you are to buy there, and some other matters you are to take care of while there. Now I know you don't have any money, so you will have to set up an account there, don't worry, I have given you the only reference you will require. Now you know where it is?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Rogers" I replied.

"Good, well hurry along there, we still have much to do."

I tamely hurried from the office, once again ignoring the hostile stares of my office workers who had obviously decided I was somehow trying to sleep my way to the top, and wriggled and sleazed my way out of the building.

I ignored the incredibly rude abuse I received as I walked past a construction site down the road, totally oblivious to way in which the heels made my ass and breasts sway, and made it to the address indicated on the envelope.

I was disappointed, but not surprised to find it was an adult bookstore. Gathering up my courage, I entered the store. It was surprisingly dark inside, all the windows having been painted over, I suppose to conceal both the contents and the clientele, but I wiggled my way to the counter and asked for Jeff.

"That's me." came his reply as he mentally undressed me.

I handed him the envelope. "Bill Rogers said to give this to you."

He opened it, and as if to confirm my worst fears, a wicked looking smile lit up his pallid face. With a chuckle he turned his attention back to me. "It says here that you are Bill Rogers private little slut. Is that true?"

I had no alternative but to play his game. "Yes Sir."

"Yes Sir what?" came his response, with a thoroughly evil smile. I noticed that two or three of the patrons were gathering around, both to feast their eyes on my scantily clad body, and to enjoy what looked to be an interesting exchange.

Drawing a deep breath and trying to ignore the way their eyes danced all over my tight skirt clad ass and barely concealed breasts, I dug myself in deeper and replied, "Yes Sir, I am Mr. Rogers private little slut."

"Wow" he whistled, "it says that you do what ever he says, no matter how depraved or sick it might be. Is that true also?"

Damn the man, did he have to make this so damned difficult. Lowering my gaze and trying to ignore the way my skin wanted to crawl, I replied in a clear voice" Yes Sir, I do what ever Mr. Rogers wants me to, no matter what." Then deciding to embellish the story a little, and to perhaps provide me with some shred of credibility, I added, "I think Mr. Rogers is great, he is such a stud."

Jeff had obviously read otherwise, or could see straight through me as he pushed on, "Do you let him fuck you? Does he stick his big black prick up your tight little white ass? Is that his cum I see on your splendid white tits?"

I had committed myself to a course from which there was no retreat, "Yes Sir," I replied, my face burning with shame, "Mr.

Rogers does what ever he wants me to... and I love it."

"Wow!" he said again. "Well it says here you are to set up an account with us." He reached for some papers below the counter. "Bill says your writing's not very good and that I am to fill out the form for you. So let's be having your details then, hand me your driving license..."

Such had been the state of befuddlement with which I had left my office, far too concerned with the prospect of my becoming a common whore for Mr. Rogers friends and associates, that I had come out without my purse and documents.

And so I had to stand there and tell him my name, address, home phone number, age, place of employment and so on, in front of a bunch of sicko's, some of which I noticed were fervently copying down my details for their own nefarious purposes.

"Good, said Jeff, having filed my account application and once more reaching for the hated letter. "It goes on to say that while you are here you are to pick up some Ben Wa Balls, make some notes on our wide selection of vibrators and dildo's to report back to Bill with, and." An evil smile once more lit up his countenance; "You are to blow me. Any problems with any of that"

Damn Bill Jenkins, no person should be subjected to such abject humiliation. "No Sir..." I mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch Candie?"

"No Sir," I repeated louder, "I have no problem with any of that."

"Good then, lets go get you some love balls, then you can get me my rocks off, and then finish up with you making your notes on out large collection of lady pleasers."

He came from behind the counter, and with a large ass placed in a highly ungallant position upon my ass, steered me over to a display counter. I soon learnt that Ben Wa balls were large stainless steel sphere's, I had no idea as to their purpose, but harbored little hope of being permitted to enjoy such ignorance for very long. Sure enough, Jeff selected a large and, as he handed them to me I found, very heavy pair, and said, "Now why don't we go get a little privacy out back and you can put them in while you take care of me."

As we headed towards the rear of the store, he called across to his assistant, "We'll be in number three if... ah, if anyone should be `looking' for us..."

I thought it extremely unlikely that anyone would be looking for me here, but let the comment pass, failing to see the delighted look of enlightenment on the face of his colleague.

He then led me through a door at the back of the store and down a dimly lit corridor with several doors off one side. We passed the first two, obviously empty booths, before he confirmed the third one to be also unoccupied. The door opened into a tiny room, lit with a single glaring high wattage bulb overhead, and populated with nothing more than a small vinyl covered seat in front of a large television screen, currently dark.

It was barely big enough for the two of us as we squeezed in, he taking the opportunity to give my left breast a good grope as I squirmed past him. He took the seat, leaving me standing in front and facing him.

"Now why don't you lift up your skirt and Uncle Jeff will help you with your new love toys."

I could see no alternative but to comply, and so, with my ass pressed against the grimy wall, managed to work my red mini up over my wide hips.

Jeff whistled his approval as my lime green thong covered pussy came into his view. He reached out to touch my hips, his cold hands causing me to involuntarily jump, as they felt clammy against my warm skin. "There, there my pretty", he cooed as if to placate me as he worked his hands under my skirt to squeeze my ass cheeks, pulling my groin closer to his face. I heard him take several deep breaths, as my panty-clad pussy was mere millimeters from his face. His tongue darted out to trace the top of my mound through the silken nylon of my panties, leaving slightly darker shade where it touched. Slowly, obviously savoring every second of the time he had me under his control, he worked the thin lace band of my panties over my hips and then down my thighs. His hands constantly running over my stockings clad thighs and unprotected ass.

With my panties out of the way, now down around my ankles, he looked up at me and, with sincere honesty said " Candie, I love your tattoo, did Bill get you to do that?"

"Burning bright red with the shame of a comparative stranger seeing my new tattoo, I nodded, "Yes Sir, he did."

With a soft almost caring tone, he responded, "Well I think you still look delightful, you really are a joy to behold young Candie."

I later learned to be less gullible, but at this time his tone convinced me that he held some type of genuine feelings for me.

You have to remember that for the past forty-eight hours all I had witnessed was scorn, lust and total disregard for any of my feelings, so when someone appeared to sincerely have some iota of care for me it felt a little better. Like a said, gullible.

He smiled at me, this time warmly, and returned my wide eyed gaze, commenting, as if worried for me, "We're going to have to get you a little wetter if we are to fit your love balls in without pain, OK?"

Not knowing what was in store for me, but anxious to avoid pain, I meekly nodded my head and whispered, "Umm... OK."

He dropped his head back down to be level with my crotch. What ever I had expected it was not what happened next. His tongue shot out to my exposed pussy at the same time as his hands fastened on to my golden ass cheeks and he pulled me fully onto his face. I let out a loud squeal as his tongue shot straight to my clitoris. Almost instantly I stopped struggling against him as an incredibly rosy glow emanated from his tongue. Within seconds he could release his grip on my buttocks as I freely leant in towards him, affording his tongue free access to me. His hands resumed there exploration of my ass and silken thighs, I didn't care at all though, I was instantly lost in the rapture his tongue was giving me as it tickled and massaged my eagerly responsive bud. My breath came shorter and shorter and I became aware of a distant voice calling encouragement, oblivious to the fact that it was me who was screaming out encouragement as an incredibly powerful and rapid orgasm overcame me. As I broached the point of no return at full force, I gripped his shoulders tightly, not caring of the pain my long fingernails must have inflicted on him, and pulled his face as far into me as I could.

With huge racking sobs I rode out the last vestiges of ecstasy and released my death like grip on him. Using the fact that I was totally distracted and that my thighs were spread as far apart as my panties bunched around my ankles would permit, he slid the two three-inch diameter stainless steel balls up inside of me and yanked my thong fully back into place.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

I was still too exhausted to respond and could only nod my head with a stupid, but this time genuine, smile spread across my overly made-up face.

"Good, because now it's your turn." And with that he pushed me down onto the disgusting floor between his outstretched knees. For once, I felt almost obliged to administer my lips to another mans (for I still felt myself to be wholly male) organ.

I was still in such a post-orgasmic haze that I almost failed to notice the grime upon the floor or the slightly fetid odor permeating from hid underwear.

Still, I may have had no choice if Mr. Rogers had decreed that I give him a blowjob, but I felt an obligation to make sure I gave him a damned good one.

I gently lowered my vivid pink mouth over his engorged tool and began to slowly, almost tenderly, suck, kiss, and stroke it until I felt the now recognizable signs of an impending orgasm. I redoubled my efforts, thrashing my head up and down his tool while my hand squeezed and massaged his swollen nuts.

As he rode that wonderful wave to full orgasmic realization, he surprised me and then shocked me by reaching out with his left hand to grab a handful of my hair, roughly yanking my head back off his cock, before commencing to masturbate with his right. I was trapped beneath him, his hand holding my head steady as the first spurt of hot jism shot out and caught me fully in my left eye. There was no room for me to maneuver as I knelt pinned on the disgusting carpeted floor as jet after jet of his disgusting semen shot all over my face and upper torso.

Even when he had wrung the very last drop from his now softening dick he was not done, he then proceeded to use the tip of his glans to evenly work his foul fluid into every pore of my face. Smudging my makeup beyond repair and making large globules fall onto my yellow blouse, green bra and red skirt below. When he did finally zip himself up and leave the tiny peep show booth, I was left in a disgusting mess on the equally disgusting floor.

I now really missed my purse, as without it I had no mirror or cosmetics with which to try and repair the ravages done to my face. I could only sit upon the filthy vinyl chair and try to scoop off the larger and more visible globules of man seed with my trowel like fingernails.

Ultimately satisfied that I could do no more, I made my way out of the booth and back into the store, noticing that both my knees were covered in a particularly vile sticky dark mess, and that one stocking was badly laddered clear up to the top.

As I reentered the main part of the store I was further humiliated to be greeted by a loud cheer from the assembled patrons, who I learned had enjoyed my performance by means of a closed circuit television camera I had completely failed to notice.

As much as I would have dearly loved to rush out into the street, never to set foot in this wretched place again, Jeff reminded me I still had one more chore to complete for Mr. Rogers. So I then had to make notes on the impressively large collection of vibrators and dildo's stocked there, all the while shadowed by some lecherous pervert who would insist on telling me how much he had enjoyed my show, or exactly what he would like to do with me.

But at last it was done and I practically fled the store, film envelope held up against my chest in an inadequate attempt to cover the worst part of my semen covered clothing.

I was not slow in realizing the purpose of the Ben Wa balls as I flounced my way onto the street in the warm morning sunlight. They incessantly moved and knocked together within the tight, and already very moist, confines of my pussy. By the time I made it to the lab, I had already had to stop twice to hang onto some inanimate object as powerful orgasms rocked my body.

The clerk at the film lab was not surprisingly disgusted by my appearance and a trip to the ladies room revealed the full extent of Jeff's damage. My right eye was completely gummed up with a foul mixture of jism and run mascara. Two large strings of his jism still hung from my hair and all over my face was the evidence of semen diluted cosmetics. My blouse bore another large gob of cum upon my left shoulder and both it and my skirt were laced with trails as if they had been host to a large party of snails. I was a cum covered wreck.

By the time I made it back to the office, with a duly signed receipt, my panties were soaked through from my own juices as I had suffered the indignity of three more Ben Wa inspired earth shattering orgasms. The last occurred as I entered the office building and had required me to physically hang onto the receptionist's desk as I gasped there for breath. She gave me a very disgusted, and not at all sympathetic, glare. I knew my reputation was going to be going downhill real quick.

SEVEN

It had to be a good twenty minutes before Mr. Rogers was able to bring his uncontrollable laughter under rein. He had insisted I tell him the complete story as to exactly how I came to be in such a hideous mess.

When, at last, he was able to regain something close to composure, he laughed out, "But there was nothing in the letter about you having to give you a blow job, I'm afraid you have been had. Taken for ride - so to speak!" More laughter erupted from his corpulent belly at this time, leaving me free to sit there, squirming in the knowledge that I had been well and truly suckered.

It got worse when Mr. Rogers studies the list of vibrators I had so studiously made in the awful shop. "But you make no mention of what colors the different models are in. How can I be expected to decide which models you are o have when I don't know what colors they come in?"

I could only sit there dumbfounded as I had meticulously noted length, girth, and number of batteries and battery size, in other words, everything I thought he would want to know. Except color.

"Well there is nothing for it," his words interrupted my bout of self-pity and loathing, though his next ones made me feel even worse. "You will just have to go back this afternoon and get me a list of every color each model is available in."

I could only sit there dumfounded, until his glare told me it was not open to negotiation. "Yes Mr. Rogers, I will return this afternoon and make a list of every models color availability."

"Good girl Candie, you might not be the brightest, and to look at you now all covered in cum, you are currently not the cleanest, but you do sure make for one hell of a fuck toy!"

I was dispatched to the ladies room with strict orders not to come out until I was at least halfway presentable. No mean feat as what I really needed was a hot shower. Still I made the best of what was available, namely a face cloth, lots of hot water and then copious quantities of cosmetics which I piled on until the face that stared back at me from the mirror was back to its more usual whorish self. Minus the bucket of cum Jeff had tricked me into permitting him to deposit upon me.

Even managed to rinse the worse of the cum stains from my blouse and skirt, my stockings were still badly stained by the semen and goodness knows what else countless perverts had deposited upon the peepshow booths floor but, hopefully, I could get another pair at lunch time. A heavy dose of perfume effectively covered the fragrance of sex that permeated from my ever-charged loins.

And then I was sent to close my first client in my new life as Bill Rogers' whore. He sent me to see Mike over in accounting with strict instructions to turn on the charm, i.e. really flirt with him, and to see when he wanted my `services'.

I traipsed along to the accounting office and found Mike with one of his colleagues locked away in a small office going over some type of financial projections. My knock was immediately met with a scowl for being interrupted, but instantly transformed to one of welcome when he was who it was. Gluing my now familiar fake smile in place, I slowly strutted into the room, "Mr. Rogers said you wanted to see me Mike?" I cooed sweetly.

"Ah yes... um... Candie" he blustered, immediately dismissing his apparently junior colleague with a "Will you excuse us please Andy? Make your self comfortable Candie."

As the other man left, drinking in a good look at me, I felt suddenly lightheaded, as if I was somehow no longer responsible for my actions, I found I was lowering myself to lie on the table in front of Mike. The departing Andy was treated to the spectacle of my long shapely legs, vivid green panty clad butt, and suspenders as I moved, seductively, towards my prey. Trying to reassert my entirely, still active, male reactions and drives, I tried my hardest to regain control over my actions, but I continued to act the flirtatious woman I had been forced to become. I reached out a manicured and heavily bejeweled hand and gripped his tie, forcing his face nearer to mine.

"Hello there Mike, I don't think we've been properly introduced, my name is Candie `BJ' Row, I think you can guess what the BJ is short for?" Christ, just listening to me was enough to make me want to blow chunks, why was I speaking like this? Still Mike was drinking up every word of it, especially when I slowly licked my bright pink lips to further emphasize a completely non-ambiguous point.

He was struck speechless, unfortunately requiring me to continue, once again forcing my male feelings to the back I pushed on, "What did you think of the little show you got to see in Mr. Rogers office this morning? Did you like the sight of me under the desk, taking his big black cock all the way down my little throat? Did it make you hot? Go on, you can tell Candie."

What the fuck was happening to me? This wasn't the real me speaking, it was as if I was under someone else's remote control. And then, as if things were not already way out of hand, I did something totally alien to me, something that makes no sense, even given my much-changed circumstances. I sat up and swiveled on the desk so that I was perched on the edge. My bestockinged legs on either side of him as my skirt forced was up high enough to ensure he could see my hairless pussy only slightly obscured behind the tightly stretched and damp fabric of my bright green thong panties. I seemingly voluntarily, yes me, who only forty-eight hours earlier had been a normal man, reached, with my pink painted hand, down under the table to his crotch and began massaging his awakening cock through the thin fabric of his trousers.

All the while I was licking my lips in a thoroughly licentious manner, mere inches from his face, and talking real dirty to him.

Even as I acted the total whore, my conscious mind was screaming for me to stop. Somehow I was acting as if programmed, and though my mind was screaming in revulsion, my actions continued to portray me as the whorish young tart everyone else wanted me to be.

Finally he regained his voice as he croaked, "Oh yes, baby, that feels so good."

Continuing to use my right hand to massage what was fast becoming a very impressively sized cock, I began to use my left to stroke and cup my breasts. As if offering them up to him, though always being careful to keep them out of reach of his occasionally lunging mouth. "Go on, tell Candie exactly what you want to do with her. Tell me what you will do when you and your friends have me all to yourselves, to use and abuse as your captive slut."

As his erection continued to gore in my comparatively tiny hand, he spelled out exactly what he had planned. "Oh baby, we're gonna tie you up so tight you won't be able to move a muscle, we'll gag and blindfold you and use you in ways you can't even imagine."

Even as his word chilled the real me to the very core, the new uncontrollable, at least by me, me continued to stroke his now immense erection with one hand while the other freed my left breast and pulled upon the engorged nipple. I encouraged him to tell me more. "Oh that sounds so good baby, go on, tell me more. Tell me all the kinky things you want to do to me when I am tied up and helpless before you powerful men."

Even if he had wanted to keep anything from me, he was completely powerless to do so. "Oh Candie, we are going to have so much fun with you. We're gonna fuck you in every hole you have, fuck you until the cum runs in rivers and you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Despite the fact that his words chilled me to the bone, I was unable to stop either encouraging his disgusting outpourings or my physical manhandling of his torrid member as it twitched and bucked within my long finger nailed hand in the first throes of a sizeable orgasm.

"Oh God, oh yes Candie, we're gonna humiliate you by taking you outside and letting our friends and even strangers take turns on forcing you into acting out demeaning acts which we'll film to humiliate you still further."

A dark stain was spreading in his khaki pants as he unleashed a full load within his underwear, and still I stroked myself.

Now releasing my grip on his tool to thrust long fingers down the front of my panties to finger myself to my own powerful orgasm.

We both sat there, panting with the exertions of our own separate passion. Finally regaining his breath Mike asked me.

"So, are you still available?"

I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of his question, as if anyone would willingly permit himself or herself to be submitted to such depravity. But instead, I inwardly choked as I heard some voice from inside a previously unknown part of me reply, "Oh yes Mike, how about this weekend?"

"Great!" he laughed, not surprisingly amazed that he had found anyone, let alone a stunningly attractive girl like me, who would permit such degraded liberties to be taken with them.

I reached down and patted his obviously damp groin, and heard myself chuckle, "You be sure to get plenty of rest, you can pick me up after work on Friday. See Bill Rogers about paying me, I don't like to get involved in the money side of my business."

And with that I carefully wiped my sticky fingers on the front of my blouse, climbed off the table and headed for the door.

As I opened the door I was surprised by three people leaning hard up against it, obviously they had been listening to our whole exchange. With some semblance of my more normal self returning, I felt myself blush furiously as I breezed past them, only now bothering to cover up my breast which I had so recently been fondling.

Eight: The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully, I was let off another trip to the dreadful sex shop due to a lot of real work that required my attention. In fact I was so distracted by my work, I barely had a chance to reflect upon the incredible, and disgusting, change that had overcome me with Mike. What on earth had caused me to act to totally out of character? Was their some deeply hidden part of my psyche that I had only just learned of? It didn't seem likely as through out the whole event I had felt what could only be a normal male reaction to such lewd behavior with another man. It was as if something had triggered some type of buried programming to take over my actions, but how?

Mr. Rogers calling me into his office interrupted my musing. I dutifully skipped in with my shorthand notebook clad to my breast. "Yes Mr. Rogers, what can I do for you?" I answered all sweetness and light.

"Candie" he replied, "it is time for our afternoon shagging. No don't bother closing the door, I rather like the idea of the whole company knowing what a total slut you are. Mike was certainly impressed by your sales technique, he even volunteered to pay me an extra fifty bucks as you said he could have you from Friday evening on. By all accounts you are really starting to like your new role; I will have to see if I can't do something to change that. After all, I am not looking to provide you with entertainment, far from it, I want to pay you back for the way you treated me earlier. This is for me, we are doing all of this for my entertainment, not yours." A firm hand held high prevented me from arguing my case.

"I don't want to hear it, now just get your clothes off and get up on my dick. Let's see if we can surpass the noise level we got to yesterday."

With no course open but to comply, I left the office door wide open, before slowly stripping to the CD he put on (George Michael's Careless Whisper), all the while licking my lips and smiling as if this was the highlight of my day. Slowly and as sensuously as I could manage, I undid my blouse, unclasped my bra and, leaning over his desk, let it fall, revealing my still erect nipples atop my spectacular breasts. My skirt slowly followed my bra to the floor, and at his bidding I assumed all manner of erotic, and I felt disgusting, poses in front of him clad only in my still soiled stockings, shoes and thong panties. Finally, at his beckoning, I faced away from him and slowly slid my panties over my ass and down to my ankles, all the time affording him a splendid view of my ass and aching pussy. It was while I was bent at the waist with my tanned ass uppermost, that I first noticed the throng of people also enjoying my show from the open office doorway. Blushing furiously, I continued my show, adding, at Mr. Rogers' suggestion, a come-on to several of those in the doorway to come and join me. Luckily there were no takers.

By the time I had extricated the damnable balls from my sopping pussy and was ready to climb across him and impale myself upon his manhood, the door to his office was fair packed with spectators. To my abject humiliation I then had to slowly lower myself down upon him, all the while cooing how good he felt and how I just loved the feel of his big black cock stretching my hot white pussy. Doing my level best to pretend I was unaware of the ten or so people looking in, though some had left in disgust, I began mewing, and calling out the obscenities he, unseen by the crowd, prompted me with. "OH God yes baby. Fill my cunt with your powerful black meat" and "Oh yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

This went on for a disgusting half hour, climaxing, literally with Bill Rogers filling my insides with a copious quantity of his hot cum, and the worst part, my own quite genuine orgasm.

As I knelt before him, cleaning our fluids from his once more dormant monster, the crown broke up and began to drift off home but not without letting me know, in no uncertain terms, just what exactly they thought of me. With Bill Rogers' penis once more all spic-and-span, I was left to get dressed. I eased my already sodden panties over my poor abused cunt, feeling fresh fluids soaking them still further, and struggled back into my bra, skirt and blouse, all looking slightly the worse for wear after their tough day.

At last, the office now empty, I was permitted a harassment free exit from the office and back to the sanctuary of my apartment.

As I opened my front door, my phone was ringing shrilly, debating to let the machine pick it up, I remembered I no longer possessed an answer machine, and so hurried to answer.

"Well hello there Candie" came an all too familiar voice that had once been mine, "So how was your second day at the office?"

I have often heard that confession can have a restorative effect, and that must have been true, for I poured my heart out, ignoring the hoots of laughter and derision that met my report of my every humiliation. When I got to explaining my totally unfathomed behavior with Mike, the caller nearly broke down, such was his hysterics. When he did eventually regain enough control to be once more intelligible, he remarked, "You see, I told you there were a few traps out there waiting for you, you must have triggered one today."

"But how?" I cried, "what did I do?"

"You?" came the response, "probably nothing, you see you have been hypnotized to respond in a variety of pre- programmed ways to specific words and expressions. Mike must have said one of the trigger words or phrases."

My God! If this was true, then I was effectively a walking sexual bomb, potentially triggered by the most innocuous of greeting, chats or merely over-heard conversations.

"Oh yes my sweet and sexy Candie, there's many a more fun day ahead for you. You have no idea what words will trigger what reaction. Though I won't tell you too much, I will tell you that when you hear specific triggers you will be over come by the urges to have sex with a minor, an animal, and a homeless person. These and many more `delights' await you.

Have fun!"

And with that he hung up, leaving me sitting there, too shell shocked and stunned to even remove the telephone handset from my ear.

NINE: The next morning I arose at my now usual ungodly hour to begin the long and tedious act of getting myself prepared to meet Mr. Rogers' approval. After a lengthy shower, trying desperately to wash the kinks and humiliation from my tanned skin, I sat at my dresser, blow drier, curling tongs, curlers, and hairspray to hand, and teased my platinum tresses to their maximum height and body. This act alone took me over forty minutes as I used the heated iron to shape my fringe into the exorbitant curl that finished just above my recently shaped eyebrows. The hot iron was also used, along with some heated rollers, to form the long curls that framed either aside of my face and that hung down to break just above my shoulders.

Next followed the equally time consuming ritual of applying my face.' A foundation cream covered all my non-existent blemishes and was applied liberally (to ensure it was obvious) from my neck up. Next began the intricate solemn ritual of preparing my almond shaped eyes. First I used a black kohl pencil to completely line them, then the mandatory three different shades of makeup was applied to my lids. Simply selecting the colors required advanced thinking as to exactly what I was to wear that day. Today, I selected a dark pink closest to my lashes, a light pink for the middle of my lid, and a garish silvery pink for the very top. Each shade had to be applied thickly enough to ruin a subtlety I might have wished for ad when completed, the Rogers' desired slut was manifesting herself before my eyes. Lastly for my eyes were the hated false eyelashes. With meticulous care, made especially difficult through my hideous inch plus long nails, I glued them carefully in place, before coating them with unnecessary, but Rogers' ordered, three coats of black mascara. When I was done, blinking became a physical effort and was slowed by their weight to make every move appear an intentional come on.' Taking the last sip of coffee I would be able to achieve without laving the telltale feminine smudges upon the lip of my cup, I began work on my full lips. Selecting a shade of pink that would compliment both my nails, eyes and clothes, I worked several thick coats of a dusky pink into the smooth surface of my kisser. This was then permitted to dry, while I lined them with a much darker pink pencil, carefully accentuating every rise and drop of my naturally full and pouting mouth. Finally, three coats of a sickly lip-gloss were slathered over my lips to give them the sensual look Bill Rogers demanded. At last, after more than thorty minutes work, my face was done.

Standing naked before my mirrored dresser, I made sure to absolutely drench myself with way too much perfume before turning to my room to get dressed.

For today, I had once more elected to wear full underwear, postponing as long as possible the days ahead I would be required to go without. I selected a matching bra, thong and garter set in a shocking turquoise, white, the obviously preferred color having been ruled out by Mr. Rogers' lengthy dress and conduct contract.

I slipped the garter belt over my freshly shaven legs and then followed them with a pair of stockings of a dazzling white.

The stockings were seamed at back, a fact I was confident would gain Mr. Rogers' approval. Securing the lace tops to the garter tabs, I was careful to ensure that my long fingernails did not snag the gossamer thin nylon, and that my seams were perfectly straight. Satisfied, I slipped each foot in turn through the pathetically inadequate panties and then pulled them snugly up into place to comfortingly sheath my pubis and hide the hideous tattoo advertising my public availability directly over my denuded pussy. The thin strap of the thong felt strange between my buttocks as it lay upon my ass, but I found I was fast getting used to a whole range of once alien sensations.

The bra was next, this one offering minimal coverage but with maximum support. It was of a style I later learned to be called balconnette or shelf style, and it served to barely cover my nipples while pushing my already large breasts up and out. The part of the brassier that did cover my always-prominent nipples was so thin so that it in no way concealed their protrusion.

I moved with, unrealized grace, to the dress I had elected to wear that day, and slid it carefully over my head and pulled it as far down my hips as it would go. Immediately I regretted my choice, as it was far shorter and deeper cut than I had anticipated, barely covering the tops of my stockings and showing the startlingly contrasting turquoise bow and center part of my bra up top. Still, a quick look at my bedside clock revealed that I was running behind schedule if I was to arrive at the office prior to my new master. I had no choice but to keep the dress on. Rushing frantically now, I quickly put two enormous gold hoops in the lower of my ear piercings and a large set of silver bells in the second, the top two and most recent holes, being too fresh to require anything other than the silver studs already in place. A large and clunky gold necklace disappeared into the depths of my impressive cleavage, and a total of twenty bangles were forced over my thin wrists, where the jostled and jangled noisily as I bent to fit a hideous pair of enormous red heels onto my small feet. The shoes sported heels a good five inches tall and were made from a vivid red patent leather (conforming to my orders that my shoes should always clash with the rest of my attire).

With another quick glance at the clock, I gulped down the last of my coffee, wincing as I noticed the obvious pink smudges I left upon the rim, grabbed my purse and rushed out my apartment and on my way in to another day of frightful abuse.

TEN: Thankfully I made it in about ten minutes before Mr. Rogers and had fresh coffee percolating away when he arrived and marched straight past me into his office deep in conversation with another man, also black but much younger, and to my dismay I caught myself thinking, much better looking. The stranger provided me a lecherous leer as he passed, following Mr. Rogers before closing the door behind him with an obvious familiarity.

Finding myself fearing the worst, I sat there at my desk, fiddling nervously while I awaited the summons into his office. For over twenty minutes I sat there on tenterhooks before the intercom issued my summons. Quickly tugging the hem of the now much regretted pink dress as low as it would go, I grabbed a cup of coffee and entered the inner sanctum.

Once more I felt the lecherous gaze of the stranger upon me as I wiggled my way in with the coffee cup held before me.

Knowing what was expected of me, I was careful to bend over the desk to place the cup before Mr. Rogers, affording the stranger an unobscured view of my stockinged thighs and ass.

Ignoring the stupid smile he now wore, I turned and greeted the stranger for the first time. "Hello Sir, my name is Candie, may Candie please get you a coffee?"

"Why certainly Candie, I'll take a cup." He replied, deliberately vaguely.

"And how does Sir take his coffee?" I pursued.

"Oh, like you, I take it black!" Both men exploded with laughter at this, telling me he was already privy to my new station.

Undaunted, I turned my back and sashayed my way back to the coffee machine, once again being required to bend, affording them both a wonderful view of my ass and bright blue lingerie, and returned with a another hot cup of coffee.

In a silly display of power, Mr. Rogers kept me standing there, slightly behind his chair, as he and the stranger concluded a lengthy discussion about the Dallas Cowboy's chances in the coming season. All the while I was intently aware of the unknown man's eyes taking liberties across my scantily clad body.

At last, having decided he had proven his power, Rogers finally addressed me. "Slut Candie, I want you to meet my son, Tyrone."

"Very pleased to meet you Tyrone" I uttered demurely.

"And I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance Candie, father has told me a great deal about you. I have been looking forward to meeting you, I see father was in no way exaggerating about... about your charms." I felt myself blush as both men enjoyed a shared joke. "I have been looking forwards to... shall we say, looking forward to getting to know you a little better..." he let the obvious innuendo hang in the air.

Rogers senior piped in, "You see Candie, you and Ty enjoy... shall we say similar business interests." Once more, shared laughter at a private joke.

Not following their drift, I felt obliged to inquire, "Similar business interests? I am afraid that Candie does not understand."

"No. No, you wouldn't, would you? Not being terrible bright and all." He enjoyed the opportunity to put me down once more. "You see Candie Slut, Ty here is what is commonly referred to on the street, as a pimp."

A pimp? Maybe I was as dense as Mr. Rogers said I was. I was still not getting the connection.

My look of puzzlement was obviously self-evident as Mr. Rogers frowned and continued, "Christ, you really are one dumb fuck bunny aren't you Candie?"

I knew better than to try and argue the horrible and unfair question, and so was forced to reply, "Yes Mr. Rogers, Candie is a dumb fuck bunny."

With slow and deliberate patience, as if explaining a simple fact to a child, he spelt out his meaning. "You see Candie, Ty here is a pimp. Now pimps handle prostitutes. I don't mean physically handle' them, but they arrange their clients, what we call johns', and then collect the money. Are you following me?

Slowly realizing the dreadful way this conversation was inevitably headed I slowly nodded and replied, Yes Mr. Rogers, Candie is following you..."

"Good. Well then, as an established pimp, Ty here has kindly agreed to take care of you in your new, after hours, career as a prostitute."

No, please God no, he couldn't be serious. Despite full knowledge that I was breaking his precious rules, I cried "Oh please no, please Mr. Rogers, don't make Candie into a prostitute. I'll do anything, but please don't make Candie a whore!"

Smiling at the absolute power he had over me, and the obvious despair his words instilled, he replied "Well I think it's a little late for that, don't you? I mean, after all who was it who did such a good job in persuading young Mike to pay for your sexual favors this coming weekend? It wasn't me, I merely sent you up to talk with him. I heard all about how you jerked him off while fingering yourself to an apparently noisy climax in a public conference room. I think it's fair to say that Ty and I are merely looking out for your best interests. Wouldn't you agree Ty?"

"Oh absolutely dad, the stories you hear about the terrible things that happen to young whores who try and go it alone." A note of menace suggested I would do better to look elsewhere for an ally than young Rogers.

"Anyway Candie, don't get your cute little panties in a twist," he continued, "I have yet to decide if I even want to add you to my stable. I will have to taste the produce before I can consider buying..."

So now I had to perform some depraved act to persuade him to make me into a common whore? Surely things could not get any worse. Could they?

"My sentiments exactly Ty" interrupted Rogers senior, "Candie and I have been developing something of a morning ritual of late, so why don't you settle back there, get comfortable, and enjoy the show."

He reached in to a desk drawer and produced the 35mm camera before adding, "Feel free to join in anytime you want Ty.

Candie, you get busy stripping and you better make damned certain you do it as sexily as fucking possible, or there will be hell to pay."

And so, fighting back very real tears, I began to slowly gyrate to this mornings musical selection, Celine Dion's, The Power of Love. Trying desperately to ignore both the constantly flashing camera, and the evilly grinning men, I slowly dropped the front of my pink dress to reveal my turquoise clad breasts beneath. Assuming the saccharin smile I knew was demanded, I bent towards the camera, cupping my only partially concealed breasts provocatively. I then dropped on to my haunches, legs spread wide to allow both spectators and the camera, a clear view of my panty clad pussy, and garter secured stockings up my skirt. Holding this position, I reached back and slowly, as sexily as I could manage, removed my tiny bra. My breasts tumbled free, as if glad to be released from the lacy confines of my bra. Upon suggestions from the still seated Ty, I pulled and tweaked my nipples to maximum length, all the time maintaining a look of absolute rapture upon my face.

Standing once more, I slowly worked the dress down and over my hips, revealing my panties, garter belt and stockings.

"Time to get dirty!" ordered Bill Rogers, and so I leant over his desk and fingered myself from behind. My fingers came in to contact with my clitoris through the thin fabric of my panties, and a lightning bolt of sexual electricity raced through my body. Oh so slowly, I worked my panties from between my ass cheeks, providing Tyrone with his first sighting of my hairless pussy. A low whistle came from behind me, indicting he was not disappointed with what he was seeing.

Maintaining my pose across the front of the desk, I worked my panties down over my hips to my knees.

""Spread that luscious pussy Candie, show us some pink." Ordered Mr. Rogers. I dutifully left my panties around my knees and reached back to spread my pussy lips with long finger nailed hands. Click, click, click, went the camera, as he ensured that not a single drop of dignity was left me.

I was then ordered on to all fours, permitting them countless shots of my huge tits swaying pendulously beneath me, and of many more shots of my unprotected cunt and asshole.

"Great work!" cried Mr. Rogers, now I think I am ready for my morning blowjob. He made to move behind his desk, but was stopped my Ty.

"Tell you what dad, why don't you sit here, and I can get a few good pictures of young Candie here sucking your cock.

Don't worry, I'll be sure not to get your face in as, after all and no disrespect, it's not you they're interested in."

His words were not lost one me. Who was the `they' of which he spoke, I had no time to ponder further, as Rogers senior quickly agreed and moved to the seat vacated by his son.

Roll after roll of film was shot, capturing every nuance of my first crawling between his outstretched legs, then licking my lips lewdly as I undid his zipper and reached into his shorts to free his semi-erect monster cock. Ty braked a constant stream of orders for me to smile, lick my lips, grin suggestively as I slowly lowered my mouth over the huge black monster I held in my bejeweled hand. Slowly, to allow Ty plenty of time to focus, reload and reposition himself, I took Mr. Rogers enormous cock fully home and down my tightly stretched throat.

Around and round we moved, with my being face fucked, quite savagely at times, by the elder Rogers. With me on top, him on top, me standing and bending over with my breasts gyrating wildly as I furiously bobbed up and down in his lap.

From time to time I would get a break to retouch my makeup, which was either removed along Bill Rogers' penis, or with perspiration as I was forced to assume ever more imaginative poses. I continually sucked his big black cock or ran my tongue up its impressive dark length, or sucked longingly upon his large ebony balls. Regardless, I was at all times forced to maintain the false, and overtly sexy, smile for the camera's benefit. One point even found me hanging upside down from his arms as my head continued to jerk up and down upon his still solid manhood.

At last, I recognized he was tiring, still, not a bad display for a man nearly thirty years my senior, and the two men discussed the best shots for a grand finale. They eventually agreed that I should lay upon the brown carpet, while he knelt over me and `titty-fucked' himself to orgasm. His tool was by this time slavered in my drool and so he needed no additional lubricant as she commenced plunging his penis between my breasts, which he used to encircle his girth by means of his two huge hands pinning them tightly around it.

As Ty continued to circle, capturing every subtlety of my ordeal, while ensuring his father's face did not appear in a single frame, Rogers senior slammed his giant dick in and out of my tits. At last, he could hold back no longer, and slowing, he jetted enormous globs of hot jism over my face and breasts. As his son zoomed in and out to capture every degrading second, he used his oversized fist to masturbate every last drop of his foul fluid over me.

As his father staggered back to his chair, physically exhausted, I was made to assume different smiling poses as I either cleaned large drop of cum from my breasts with a long fingernail to spoon it into my smiling mouth. Or had to rub the evil liquid in to my tanned flesh as if I believed it some miraculous cure-all. Only when not a drop of cum remained visible upon my now glistening flesh, did the son pronounce himself happy with our efforts.

Eleven: As his father sat exhausted behind his desk, I lay in a crumpled heap upon the damp carpet but dragged myself on to all fours and headed towards my pile of discarded clothing.

Ty's words cut me to the bone. "Hang on slut. We're not done with you yet. Give dad a moment to get his breath back, and then it's my turn."

No, please God, no. I was a wreck. But as usual, my opinion was not sought, offered or valued. I was permitted to once more effect repairs to my damaged make up while Mr. Rogers senior drew his breath. Once recovered sufficiently, the camera was yet again reloaded (with extra time taken to replace the batteries in the flash such was its workload), and then I was ordered to crawl over to Ty and remove his jeans, primarily by means of my teeth! No easy feat when you are so tired and forced to maintain a happy yet sexy grin.

With the now almost normal accompaniment of the constant whirring and clicking of the camera's shutter, I forced my aching mouth to pull down his zipper and then tug his jeans as far down his thick legs as I could manage. Even shrouded by his white underwear, I could see that Ty had inherited certain physical aspects of his father's physique. And as I pulled his underwear down to join his jeans, the second black penis to enter my life uninvited, sprang into view. It was every bit as large as his fathers, and as my tired lips engulfed it, my jaw stretched to breaking point, an unpleasant thought entered my befuddled mind. One day, probably not too distant, I would be forced to `entertain' both the Rogers' monster cocks at once, entered my head as I to began the inevitable path up and down the brutes ten inch length.

However, I learned I was not to suck Ty off, oh no, I couldn't be that fortunate. He had other, far more sinister plans for me.

Content for me to pleasure him with what was fast becoming my experienced cock sucking mouth, he dispatched his father on some errand I did not over hear. When at last he did return, I could hear him fumbling around, unseen, off to my left side. Only when he pronounced himself `All set" was I allowed to remove Ty's vile penis from my terrible sore mouth and stand up. Ty's powerful arms encircled me and forced me over his father's desk, but not before I got a quick look at the new addition. A video camera was set up upon a tripod to one side and his father was playing around with a remote control of some sort.

Non to gently, Ty kicked my legs apart, before tying them to the legs of the desk, resulting in me being lewdly opened before the video camera all Seeing Eye. His father then reached over and pulled my arms out in front of me before likewise, tying them off on the legs on his side. I was now secured, powerless, with my ass stuck up in air, open to all takers. With a final check of all equipment, the next stage of my debasement commenced.

Both cameras were used to roam about me, sometimes in all too horrific close up of some exposed part of my anatomy, other times taking in the whole scene as I lay tightly bound across the front of the desk.

At last, satisfied that the scene was set, Ty moved in close behind me and, leaning close to my head as it lay upon the desk, whispered. "I am willing to bet that the following is going to be a first for you sweet Candie. I may be wrong, but I get the definite impression that you have never experienced the... shall we say the joys, of anal sex before?"

His words removed any hint of exhaustion I might have felt as I started desperately struggling against the ropes securing me, and pleading with him not to force his monstrous proportioned cock up my virginal ass. All to no avail, my pleas for clemency only served to amuse, and arouse him further. Even his father was regaining his erection in anticipation of the pleasures ahead of them.

While I still bucked and struggled upon the cold wood of the desk, Ty slowly, and with great deliberation, made a great show of sucking upon his right hand index finger. He then slowly lowered it behind me and out of my sight, though I knew exactly where it was as he traced it slowly up across my gaping pussy towards my defenseless anus. With great consideration, and savoring everyone of my please and screams, he slowly worked it inside of me. Even the alien sensations of his oversized finger working slowly in and out of me was horrific, but the realization that it was soon to be replaced with his oversized cock, sent fresh tremors through my poor body. As his father concentrated the camera upon the look of revulsion and discomfort so evident upon my face, Ty withdrew his finger, only to replace it', with them.' Now two huge fingers slowly stretched my poor sphincter way beyond anything I had previously endured, or though possible.

Again and again, the camera flashed in front of me, while the video zoomed in and out upon the hideous spectacle before it. In and out went Ty's giant fingers as up and up went the volume of my screams and pleas for mercy.

Satisfied, I assumed, that my sphincter was stretched sufficiently, Ty moved back in front of me, temporarily blocking the video's view of me, for I was forced to lie facing the camera, and forced his giant dick back into my mouth, temporarily silencing me. "Now Candie, you must realize that this all the lubrication you are going to get, so I suggest you ensure you get it good and wet.

And so, for the first time ever, I all too willingly threw myself at the task of sucking a man's cock. I slathered as much of my saliva as I could muster over his giant glans, secretly hoping that I might somehow bring him off to an early climax. But stamina appeared to be another inherited attribute within the Rogers' family, and all too soon he withdrew and disappeared behind me.

"Now try and relax a little Candie, it will hurt a good deal less if you relax." He said, `as if', I thought as I renewed my futile pleading for him to please spare me.

The feeling of a very large and very unwelcome interloper at my rear door told me he was not responsive to my pleas.

Once more I tried to break the bonds that held me, frantically bucking upon the desk beneath him, but it was a simple matter for him to use his superior strength to hold me still as he slowly advanced his penis towards my asshole.

My mouth formed a perfect `O' as his glans began to force its way inside of me, this was quickly replaced my loud wailing as it continued its inexorable journey north, and into my virginal sphincter. The pain was immense. I felt like I must surely split in two in any second. As his father walked around, alternately focusing on my face or wildly stretched anus, the son slowly worked his fist-sized helmet up and into me. My body was racked by sobs as inch after giant inch slowly forced its way in. I tried to relax, but the monster just seemed to keep coming. Forcing the breath from my lungs and resulting in me taking great sobbing breaths of air as still it came.

"Oh yes, baby. You are so tight, you feel so damned good. Tell Uncle Ty how good his dick feels inside of you, beg him to fuck your tight white ass." He ordered me.

Fighting back the sobs, and trying desperately to restore the artificial smile to my face, I cried, "OH Ty." A sharp slap across my vulnerable buttock corrected me. "Oh Uncle Ty, your dick feels so good inside Candie's tight white ass. Go on, please fuck Candie's ass. Slam your solid dark meat deep inside of Candie's virgin skinny white ass, go on Uncle Ty, fuck Candie good and proper"

This and much more disgusting filth poured from my mouth as I repeated each and every obscenity I was quietly imposed to as he continued to work the beast ever deeper within me.

Finally, I felt his groin against my ass cheeks; he was fully home. He permitted me moment to get adjusted to his size, as if such a thing was possible, but then began to slowly withdraw. Fresh lances of pain tore through my body as the camera flashed incessantly above me and the video captured every pain filled second of my abject debasement.

As I felt only the very tip of his tool remain, stretching my ass beyond belief, I prayed that it be over. I was wrong, for the next second, he took a strong grip on my wide hips and with one mighty thrust, buried the whole detestable monster back deep inside of me. My scream could have woken the dead, as I lay stunned, but still gamely writhing on the desk's now sweat-drenched surface dressed only in red pumps, now grubby white stockings and a vivid blue garter belt.

He then began a rhythmic raping of my sorely distended ass, slamming hard into me time and time again, every livening proceedings with a vicious slap to my unprotected ass cheeks, leaving vivid red hand prints upon my white buttocks. My only respite was for an adjustment to be made so that I appeared more `photogenic', though even then Ty remained as if glued inside of me My hands were untied and I was forced to assume a position where I supported my own weight. I was told this was to ensure that the wondrous sight of my huge tits swinging, uncontrolled, beneath me was captured by the video camera. With Ty's enormous cock buried deep inside of me, it was an easy matter for him to move me where he wished. Both father and son enjoyed a few minutes of great hilarity as Ty steered me around the room by no means other than the solid foot of man meat buried to the hilt in my intestines. I was powerless to do anything as he walked me around the room, still bent over, doubled at the waist, my face still distorted by the immense discomfort of it all. The most fun was had when Ty realized that by his leaning forwards or backwards, he could make me bow or lift up. And so there followed a several minutes of him causing me to bow and lift, bow and lift, or just strand there tits all a jiggling in front of both cameras, as he maneuvered me via his human remote control.

When at last they grew bored with this, I was returned to the desk, without ropes to hold me in place, and made to stand there. Having to use my arms and elbows to ensure my pendulous breasts were in view at all times beneath me while Ty resumed his pillaging of my desperately sore and distended ass. And all the time I was to retain the most unfelt of smiles, permanently glued to my face while crying out words of such filth so as to impress that this was among the greatest experiences of my life.

After several very long minutes of Ty ramming in and out of me to cause maximum displacement to my swinging chest, we began moving about the room, forever followed by both camera's lenses, with me once more me being steered by cock control. This time the aim was to try and find the weirdest, most depraved, and usually very uncomfortable positions imaginable from which Ty could continue to bugger me. From me being on all fours with me holding my pussy gash wide open for the cameras, through the missionary position and with my white stockinged legs held high over his shoulders, to my being crouched down upon my haunches, lowering myself upon his erection beneath me. In every pose I was required to alternate between the sickeningly false smile, and a very genuine look of pain and discomfort.

At last, finally, they were satisfied, and as I forced myself to hunker up and down upon his still totally rigid tool, he came. I felt the unmistakable sensations of what felt like gallons of scalding hot cum jet into my abused bowels.

Ty forced me back on to all fours and then down until my face was in the smelly carpet with my ass thrust high. He slammed time and time again inside of me as his sperm shot ever-deeper still within me.

And then it was done. With a slow withdrawal, to permit both cameras the sight of his monstrously thick penis leaving my now gaping sphincter, with several large globules of his sperm white against my red sore ass, I was rid of him.

If I thought that was the end of it all, I was mistaken, for my next treat was to use my tongue and mouth to clean any evidence of myself from his slowly slackening beast. Fighting back the vile, I adopted the mandatory smile and lapped every last trace from him, before dressing him and reverentially tucking him back inside his pants and jeans with a final, seemingly loving kiss to the tip.

While I lay in a pathetic heap upon the dark floor, the two men continued as if I wasn't there, tucking countless rolls of film into lab envelopes and then rewinding the tape and guffawing loudly while I enjoyed a few minutes of exhausted sleep upon the ground.

Twelve: I was awoken by a sharp kick to my ribs. "Get up whore." Shouted Bill Rogers, "I'm not paying you to sleep on the job. Get your slutty white whore ass up, get dressed and then drop these films off at the lab. And while you're at it, you can collect yesterdays efforts and stop by the porn shop to get that list of dildo colors."

I crawled onto all fours before staggering to my feet, unsure of my balance atop weakened legs and five-inch heels, I slowly stooped to recover my discarded clothes, but as I made to get dressed, Bill ordered me from his office. "You can get dressed outside, Ty and I have some important planning to do for new career. Or should I say careers? We have a couple of other ideas for you Miss Candie."

I didn't want to hear them and so staggered from his office, wearing nothing other than a large quantity of cum, red stiletto heels, white stockings that were now decidedly dirty around the knees, and my turquoise garter belt. The rest of my clothes and film envelopes I held clutched protectively before me.

As I opened the door to leave his office, I was not overly surprised to see several of my colleagues gathered there.

Probably having enjoyed the show I had unwittingly provided. Their entertainment did not stop there, for I found my exit to the ladies room blocked, and was roughly told that a true slut like me shouldn't mind getting dressed in front of them. Too tired to argue, I meekly slid my thong back into place, alleviating the sensations of Tyrone's cum leaking from my now strangely empty feeling ass to dribble down my thighs. I struggled with my brassier, mainly due to exhausted arms, and almost had it secured when rough hands tore it from me. "A slut like you doesn't need a bra, I'll take that as a souvenir."

spoke a rough voice, while an uninvited hand reached across and aggressively squeezed my unprotected breast. I slapped the offending hand away but was unable to see which of the closely gathered spectators had stolen my bra. I was really too tired to care, and so quickly turning my back on them, puled my dress over my head, doing my best to cover my bountiful charms. As soon as I was dressed, I pushed my way through the assembled throng and made my way out the front door enroute to the film lab and much hated sex shop.

I flounced my way down the sunny streets, with my breasts celebrating their unplanned freedom, (I wonder if I will be able t count this as a braless day?) by wobbling uncontrollably within the inadequate cover and support of my dress. My ass had I decided to get the dreaded trip to the sex shop out of the way first, it was arguably on the way to the film lab, and besides, I had always believed in getting the most unpleasant out of the way first.

Pausing at the portal, I mentally steeled my nerve, and pushed on in into the gloomy interior. Jeff was in his familiar position behind the counter and upon seeing me his face lit up. "Well Hello Candie, have you come back for a little more action?"

Feeling the familiar heat rush into my cheeks but I resolved to not let him get to me and replied, as evenly as I could, "No Jeff, Mr. Rogers has forced me to come back to this horrid place to make a list of what colors your... Um." I felt my face coloring further, and dropped the volume of my commentary as I continued, " A list of what colors your vibrators and dildos are available in."

His smile did not waver, instead he came around from behind his counter and said, "Well then, let me help you there little lady. Any colleague of my good friend Bill Rogers is very welcome in my humble store." And, having none too subtly reminded me of his friendship with my Lord and Master, he placed his all too familiar paw upon my hot ass and began maneuvering me around the store.

Unfortunately, in my rush to get out of the office this morning, I had forgotten to bring the list I made on my previous visit, so I was thus required to start from scratch. As he steered me via an unsubtle hand upon my ass, Jeff made sure to remove each and every model from the display case, remove it from its box, and then hand it to me, asking embarrassing questions such as "So how does this one feel Candie? Do like the texture of the veins upon the shaft?" or "I bet you can just imagine this one, vibrating slowly as it eases its way fully up your lovely cunt, those little fingers there, tickling your clitoris." And all the while he was slowly working his hand under the hem of my skirt to knead the pliable flesh of my ass cheeks. Despite my revulsion, his warm hand's ministrations felt good and I began to moisten at his suggestive words. As I felt his hand slowly work down between my butt cheeks, I realized, too late, that he would find evidence of my mornings activities. Just as I tried to squirm free of his grasp, his exploring finders encountered the sizeable damp spot on the thong of my panties.

"Candie! I do believe you have been royally butt fucked!" He cried in a voice, loud enough to ensure the whole store was in on my dirty little secret. He continued, "Tell me, was it your first time? Were you a backdoor virgin prior?"

With my pretty face glowing its all too familiar red, even through the too thick foundation, I bowed my head and replied, "Yes."

""Wow! Did you hear that everyone?" he cried at full volume, "Candie here had her first butt fuck this morning!" And then to my horror he cried, "Who wants to see Candie's plundered ass?"

I slapped his hand away from my derriere, but it was too late, the whole store, all seven of them were rushing over towards us.

I tried to break free from the grip he had taken on my arm, but he was way too strong for me, and the assembled perverts soon surrounded us. Jeff immediately began breaking down my resistance. "Come on Candie, just a peek. We only want a quick look at your lovely ass. Where's the harm in that?" There was plenty of harm, and all towards me, but before I could tell him no and to go fuck himself, he raised the stakes, significantly. "Go on Candie, I'd hate to have to tell Bill Rogers that you were disrespectful to him. I mean I could tell him you called him something terrible, something like a dumb nigger with a dick bigger than his IQ..."

He had me, and worse, he knew it. There was no way I could risk such lies finding their way back to Mr. Rogers, he might very well kill me. My head dropped with the shame of the situation, and Jeff immediately recognized his victory. "Come on lads, let's get her over by the window, the lights much better there. As I continued to stare only at the floor, unseen hands maneuvered me over to the front of the store and then pinned me bent over a glass display case.

Strong hands held me in place as I felt Jeff's warm hands slowly, with much drama, raise the hem of my tiny dress until it was flipped back over my suddenly defenseless rear end. Several low whistles greeted the sight of my white stockings and bright turquoise thong and garters framing my tanned golden ass cheeks. A hushed silence settled over the store as Jeff reached up and ever so gently eased the waistband of my panties down over my hips. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, my panties were worked down to my thighs. Like a firework display, Oohs' and Ahs' greeted the site of my perfectly framed hairless pussy and, apparently still widely stretched, ass. I only had cause to be thankful that positioned as I was, the assembled perverts could not see the tattoo that proclaimed me public property.

Any cause for thanks immediately disappeared at Jeff's next words. "Candie here has been looking to buy a vibrator, why don't we see which one suits her best!"

Immediately realizing the full implications of his words, I desperately tried to push myself up from the counter, but muscular hands held me tightly in place. I began to scream my protest, but Jeff responded with, "Eric, go get me one of those ball gags from over there will you?"

I frantically tossed my head from side to side, my platinum blond tresses flying wildly, but was unable to stop him from forcing the large round ball between my pink lips. With the leather strap secured tightly behind, I was completely silenced, reduced to a pathetic series of whimpers and muffled groans as Jeff made a great show of removing the first toy from its packaging directly in front of me. "OK Candie, this one is called The Beaver, let us see how you like it for size."

He then disappeared behind me. A low hum signaled the device was functional, and I then felt it nuzzling up against my lips. Due to Jeff's earlier ministrations, I was already moist back there, and after only a few seconds of his working the damnable toy around my perimeter, it slid easily home. I drew my breath sharply as its powerful vibrations reverberated through my pussy and despite my revulsion at being humiliated so publicly, I could not deny it felt incredibly good. Jeff began to ease it in and out of me, twisting it this way and that while ensuring it regularly came into buzzing contact with my clit.

"Hey, " he called, "Who's got a stopwatch? Let's time her orgasms to see which one she likes the best."

And so there began a series of time trials, each damned toy inevitably pushing me over the edge to unwanted by undeniably powerful orgasm. They decided that the clock would be stopped when my orgasm was powerful enough to cause me to buck my hips to such a degree that I lifted my tummy off the counter. I did my very best to fight and resist each new onslaught, but it was hopeless, each and every time my body would betray me and I would inevitably end up thrashing mutely until I made the grade, lifted my hips and stopped the watch.

It didn't help my feelings of abject humiliation that I was positioned with my exposed rear immediately facing the only entrance, so several new comers, each announced by the bell atop the door, would immediately come on over and join in the fun. Although the red gag effectively muted me, my ears could not help but pick up on each and every disgusting comment that was made. They either concerned questions as to what kind of whore would permit such perversions, or exactly what they would like to do with me, given a few minutes in a private room. The inevitable bright flashes indicated that at least one bastard was recording my debasement for prosperity, and probably his future gratification.

By the time they had forced every available model up my sopping cunt, I was exhausted beyond caring, though I never failed to reach a full force climax with every new penetration.

When finally released, I slid slowly to the floor, to lie in a pool of my own juices. To exhausted to move, I then lay there, legs played wide open, affording all an unhindered view of the self-same tattoo I had so recently thought to hide from them. I was way too tired to care, even when several more flashes announced that I would no longer be a faceless object in their torrid photographs.

Looking up, and between being blinded by their flashing cameras, I saw a couple of them rifling through my purse, apparently jotting down some detail contained within. My attempts to stop this latest invasion were hampered both by extreme weariness, and by the fact that I was still sporting the large red ball gag in my mouth.

Jeff's voice interrupted my attempts, "Well Candie, it appears that you prefer this model'" he held one up, a wicked device a good eight inches long and with a strange looking thumb off one side near the base. "This baby took you over the edge in a record breaking three minutes and forty-two seconds!" I could only glare at him through my thick false eyebrows, drooping through my utter exhaustion. He continued unabashed, "So as a special prize for you, I have decided to let you keep this as a special souvenir of today's fun."

`Oh yippee-do' I thought through the mists of fatigue.

"But," he went on" the condition is that you have to leave here... wearing it!"

Oh on, please no. But, as usual, my opinion was not sought, instead I was lifted bodily to my feet, legs pulled wide apart before the monster was reloaded with fresh batteries prior to it being forced fully up my so sorely abused pussy.

I could then only look on mutely as Jeff peeled off a length of about ten inches of silver duct tape, which he then used to tape it firmly into place, deep in my gash. Commenting "It's a good job you don't have any hair down there Candy as it would really hurt having to pull that off when you get home! Oh, and by the way, don't get any ideas about pulling it out or turning it off before you get back to the office, I'm going to call Bill to tell him all about our little survey and your current condition."

He then reached down, turned the vibrator onto its slowest, and heaviest pulse rate, yanked my thong back into place before I was then unceremoniously lifted off the counter and practically thrown out into the busy street outside.

As you would expect, the site of a scantily clad young lady, appearing at fairly high-speed from a sex shop, with a bright red ball gag strapped firmly across her mouth, and legs almost too weak to support her, garnered a fair degree of attention. Worse, as my tired legs nearly buckled beneath me, I felt my left breast tumble free from the bib of my pink dress. Ignoring, for the moment, that I was still mutely gagged, I stood there, leaning upon a lamppost for support, and tried to force the vagrant tit back from whence it had come. A feat not made easy through the combination of exhaustion, stray platinum colored curls blocking my vision, and my hideously long nails. Still, return it to the inadequate confines of the dress I did eventually do, though only after several of my recent assailants came out of the store to laugh at my ineptitude. As they stood there, a couple taking more candid snaps of my plight, several other bemused onlookers gathered as I leant there, trying desperately to push my uncooperatively large breast back behind the thin bodice of my dress.

This accomplished, I then set about trying to undo the strap securing the large red ball within my mouth. This also proved very tricky as the buckle was hidden beneath my highly teased hair, and once more my unfamiliarity with my ghastly long nails badly slowed my progress. But, at last, I had it removed, and stretched my aching jaw to try and work some feeling back into the tired muscles.

In a fit of peak, I fair threw it at Jeff as he stood laughing in the doorway to his horrid store. And then, doing my level best to ignore the laughter of the crowd of spectators, the way I involuntarily swung my ass, the heavy weight of my unsupported breasts, and lastly, but far from least the wonderful sensations emanating upwards from my overly stuffed vagina, I strode determinedly away.

Only to realize I had forgotten both the film envelopes and my purse. I stopped, choking back a humiliated sob with my shoulders physically stooped, and realized I had no choice but to return.

As I turned, a loud cheer went up from the still assembled crowd. "Look!" cried Jeff, "She's coming back for more!"

I again felt the all too familiar burning sensations of shame, but strode purposefully back. As I made to enter the store, hands tugged at the short hem of my dress, lifting it up to reveal both turquoise underwear and the strip of tape securing the vibrator within me. I slapped at the hand, but another quickly replaced it. Other foreign hands grabbed for my breasts and a tearing sound indicated the bib of my dress had parted, allowing both my breasts to spill into the bright sunlight. I had recovered my senses sufficiently to realize that I didn't have the time to worry about such details right now. Any hesitation on my part could quickly turn an already ugly scene into a gang rape. So I steeled myself, pushed past Jeff and the others. I made it in to the store, quickly recovered my missing articles, and then spun back for the exit. Thankfully, I was quick enough so that before they had time to crowd me fully back in, I had turned and fought my way back through them, ignoring the liberties their hands took with my exposed breasts and frequently uncovered lower extremities.

Once back onto the comparative safety of the street, I ignored the fact that both my breasts were completely uncovered and that my bright blue panties had been worked down to somewhere around mid-thigh, and bolted. At least I ran as fast as I could atop my five-inch heels, with my panties preventing me from managing more than a shortened gait, and my large breasts swinging wildly in the warm sun. Luckily, no one gave chase, for I knew I was way to exhausted and hampered through disarrayed clothing to be able to put up a proper fight should only one of them come after me. I rounded the corner, surprised to recognize the park where my nightmare had begun, only four days hence. I quickly staggered into its shady cover, my purse and precious film cargo held protectively before me, affording at least some degree of cover for my still bared bosom.

Hidden from the street within a shadowy group of trees, I dropped my purse and the envelopes and once more set about covering my bust. This done, I was able to survey the damage to the front of my dress, fortuitously, the damage was not too bad and although it would require me to avoid any sudden movements, I could at least keep the majority of my milky white orbs concealed. I then set about pulling my panties back up into place, even this minor change of pressures around my stuffed pussy was sufficient to send me over the edge towards yet another mighty orgasm.

As it, finally subsided, I removed a small compact from my purse to affect repairs to my badly damaged makeup. As I searched for my lipstick, I found a wrapped package that could only contain a VHS videotape, sealed and addressed to Bill Rogers. Not daring to violate the seals, I stuffed it back in my purse. I came also came across a note, and upon opening it read; `We know where you live Candie BJ Row and we plan to stop by apartment 105. See you soon slut!' Great, I thought, now I could look forward to some perverts stopping by to pay me visits at home, the one place I had felt safe from the terrible humiliations I endured daily. Well there was nothing I could do about that for now, though if Tyrone was so intent on being my pimp, perhaps I could mention it to him in the hope that he would prevent them... who knows? I only knew that such a thought indicated my acceptance of my new role as his whore, but what could I do?

Leaving such questions unanswered for now, I set about repairing my makeup, there being no real damage beyond my lipstick which had gotten badly smudged by the gag. That done, I peeked out from behind the cover of he bushes to ensure there was no one looking for me, and, trying to ignore the lust being generated in my pussy, headed off in the direction of the film labs.

Thirteen: Doing my level best to act normal, no mean feat considering the day I had endured (it was not even noon yet!) I entered the film lab and handed over the film envelopes, a shocking ten in all, to the man behind the reception desk. I received in exchange a large, sealed, package and a very lewd look, indicating that he was privy to the package's contents.

"Now you be sure to come back anytime!" He leered suggestively.

Blushing, yet again, I signed the necessary papers, bade him farewell and then wobbled my way out the door, all too aware of his eyes upon my ass as my hem flitted to afford him a glimpse of my stocking tops and maybe more.

Holding the package to do my best to hide my pretty well exposed cleavage, I headed back to work, pausing occasionally as the low yet powerful vibrations of the vibrator trapped deep inside of me instigated several more mighty orgasms. I cursed the biology that made this body I was forced to occupy so susceptible to apparently any sexual stimuli.

I made it back to Mr. Rogers' office fractionally before midday, having been gone for well over two hours. Surprisingly, he was not the fuming dictator I so feared, instead he summoned me into his office with a detectable chuckle in his voice.

"Ah Candie, there you are. Jeff Lake called me a short while ago and told e of the fun you had been having over there!"

Fun! Not exactly the word that sprung to my tired mind.

"So go on then, show me the model you selected."

Sighing as I placed the valuable film package upon his desk, I reluctantly, but obediently, lifted the hem of my short dress to show him the scene underneath. He let out another chuckle as he surveyed the broad strip of duct tape securing the hatred vibrator in place. "Oh very imaginative," he laughed, before ordering me, "Well come over here slut, and let me see the beast within."

Knowing full well what he would do, I still walked, cringing, over to him, he then reached under my hem, peeled back a corner of the tape before yanking it viciously away.

I screamed as it came away, definitely removing any hairs that the electrolysis technician might have possibly overlooked.

Bill laughed as he surveyed the pink puffiness of my pouting pussy, caused by the combination of the tapes violent removal and the mistreatment my poor vagina had taken at Jeff's shop.

"Looks like you have had quite a day of it" he chortled, "But the good news is that Ty has decided to add you to his stable of whores" I involuntarily winced at my new title. "Now why don't you go get us some lunch, I have an account at the deli down on fifth street, then I have something to show you, and then we have a new project for you. Tell me, do you have any experience in web page design?"

This sudden switch to a professional nature threw me for a moment. I replied, ""Um, no, Mr. Rogers, Candie has no experience in web page design."

"Well not to worry" he smiled, almost kindly, "we have some excellent software that makes it a doddle, I'll show you after lunch. Now hurry off, get me a pastrami on sour dough and get yourself what ever you fancy."

Almost stunned by the first kind words he had ever muttered towards me, I headed back out to the deli, for once returning without incident.

We ate our sandwiches in relatively companionable silence, and when finished, he turned his attention towards the package from the lab. Knowing full well what it contained, I sat there, squirming silently, as she unwrapped it and began to inspect the contents.

"There are really very good Candie" he said by way of a compliment, but as they were pornographic pictures of your truly, posed for against her will, I did not feel any sense of elation from his words. But, drawing on what was now instinct smiled sweetly and said "Thank you Mr. Rogers."

He tossed several eight by ten full color glossies across the desk for me to survey. They were wretched, each photograph reflecting the image of a slut eagerly posing in a series of ever more compromising positions. They finished with several of me lying back across his desk and masturbating keenly, all the while smiling or blowing lewd kisses to the camera. One thing was abundantly clear; there was no way you would ever believe that the model had been anything other than an all too willing participant.

I hated them, and he loved them.

After looking at them all a couple of times more, he turned to me, picked up a pile of floppy disks from the package and said, "OK Candie, your job for this afternoon is to design a web page on which these images will be displayed."

My jaw dropped open wide as I realized he was serious. With an evil laugh, he continued, "I want each one of these images to be displayed, full size, and you are to write at least a paragraph on each page telling the viewers what a hot little slut you are. You will tell your future fans how much you love to be fucked, in every one of your orifices, and how you will be happy to respond to any e-mail they want to send you."

I was still too aghast to say a word in response, so he continued, "Ty has created what we call a web domain name for you, rather appropriately it is CandySlut.com. He's got it all worked out, for a small fee visitors will receive a password enabling them to view your luscious body, and, if they know how, contact Ty to secure your services as a hooker! Brilliant, just think Candie, you may very well be the world's very first cyber-whore!" Pausing only to once more laugh at my crestfallen look, he pushed on "We have installed Microsoft's latest and greatest web authoring software on your PC, and Jim from IT is due over to teach you how to use it. I should warn you that Jim has a reputation for being a little bit of a pervert, but I think all these techno-geeks are, deep down. Anyway, as this is not really work related, I have had to negotiate with him, the upshot of which is that he is permitted free reign with you, so make damned sure you keep him happy. What Jim wants, Jim gets, understand slut?"

My dumb nodes were not acceptable to him, sir I answered, "Yes Sir Mr. Rogers, Candie understands, Candie is to do what ever Jim wants."

And so I was dispatched to work with Jim for an hour and a half. During this time he showed me how to use Microsoft FrontPage and I got to show him my body and then suck his tiny dick until he came in my mouth. Before he left he made me give him my home phone number, but then I was left to create a web page dedicated to destroying whatever small dignity remained to me.

For the next three and half-hours I worked away at my PC. The software really did make it easy, though the subject never was. Finally, as five thirty came and went, I felt I had done my best, and as per my original instructions, called Mr. Rogers out to inspect my work.

He was. Of course, highly critical, making me note the changes he wanted made to each page. Usually these changes were required' because I had not been as down right lewd and disgusting, as he wanted. And so I got to retype page after page in which I told my adorable fans' just how much I loved being fucked in the ass, covered in cum, triple plugged by multiple partners, or just plain old fucked in public places. By the far the worst part was my invitation, repeated on every page, for them to contact either my Master Ty for a `special one on one', or myself to tell me exactly what they would love to do with me. After each request of their e-mails, I solemnly swore to respond to each in turn. A promise I had little doubt I would be coerced to keep.

So there you are, that brings you fully up to date with the terrible changes that have been wrought by others to the life of a once normal, happy even male. I suppose the moral of this story, if any is to be found, is take the fucking bribe when it is offered!

Let me know your thoughts on this and my other stories. I have more works `in-progress' but feel a little burnt out right now. But rest assures, those creative juices (for want of a better expression) will flow again before too long.

All the best,

The Scallywags