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Part 11 – Lynn’s Story, second half
Chuck comes back fully dressed, with his roommate Richard. Richard the loner. Richard is largish, sleepy-looking, and doesn’t usually chat much.
Richard takes a long look at my naked, cum-covered ass, laughs heartily, and says “You say she did this to herself?”
“She couldn’t even wait to check if there was a key.”
Richard scans through the photos Chuck left on the bureau, (Jesus, no!) gives a low whistle, and says “Chuck, you’re right, I can help her. But I don’t think you understand our Lynn here. Look at these pictures, look at her. She doesn’t want a lock pick. She wants a firm hand, and a whole lot of cock. And I know just what to do.”
“No!” I protest. “Really, I just want to go back and clean.”
But my voice sounds insincere, even to me. Somewhere inside I know that Richard’s right, and I’m wrong.
“See what I mean, Chuck?” Richard continues. “The cumslut just wants to do what she’s told. She’s never cared about cleaning before, has she?”
“No,” Chuck agrees. “you must be right.” I’m still reeling from “cumslut”. Yech. I am nauseous, and yet I don’t have the will to stop this.
Richard finds a metal clip in the open drawer, takes the chain still hanging from my collar, pulls it down, forcing my neck with it, and winds it around the far leg of the desk and clips it to itself. I have just enough slack to move my head a bit, and breathe.
It would be easy to unclip my leash, if I could reach it. Which I can’t, so now I’m a permanent decoration on the desktop. Jesus, how did I get into this mess? Am I a cumslut?
Richard must have pulled down his pants, because I feel him up behind me, lubricating and shoving his crooked thick cock all the way into my ass, which is still stretched from Chuck. But Richard continues banging me, without mercy, while telling me over and over what a worthless cum dumpster I am.
Cum dumpster – haven’t heard that one before, but it fits. I am worthless. I’m also getting hot and wet again. I can barely breathe. I hate this! But I haven’t told him to stop.
Richard comes in my ass, leaving me unsatisfied but soaking, and moaning, embarrassingly, for more.
He comes around the front of the desk and tells me to lick my filth off him, which I do. Again, language I haven’t heard before, and I’m embarrassed to find that it turns me on, even now. So much that I hardly notice that he’s just gone ass-to-mouth, and I haven’t so much as whimpered.
I realize that Richard is the real deal. No agreements, no compromises, just straight simple domination as if there was never any question of my resisting his will.
Then he pulls up his pants, slaps me on the rump, hard, over and over. He stops and tells me I have to thank him for each blow, and ask for another, and this is really humiliating, and really exciting too.
He begins again, waiting for my response after each very hard slap. I thank him for each one, and ask for another, grunting with the hard slaps, until I actually do come. I never thought I could actually climax from just being spanked.
Then he says, “Never fear, little whore. I know you need more, and I’ll help you get it.” Chuck stops him, says “She expects $25 for that, you know.”
“Really!” Richard roars with laughter, and reaches into his wallet, and I see him hand a ten and a twenty to Chuck.
Richard chuckles, “That’s most appropriate, my friend. My housemate, the cheap ass-whore. Keep the change, she was pretty good. Right, baby?”
He winks at me, and leaves the room. Chuck stuffs the ten into my stay-ups, making sure it’s clearly visible, and says, “Not bad, you’re getting tips already.”
* * *
When Richard returns he has two unfamiliar men with him. They must be from Betty’s Bible Study group. This is just wrong! Christians! Surely they wouldn’t….
Richard says loudly, theatrically, like a sideshow carnie, “Boys, we have a fallen lady here, a poor whore in need of correction. She needs a firm hand and maybe a firm cock, to bring her back on the path to salvation. Line forms to the right.”
I am speechless.
The men are definitely from Bible study, I remember one of them vaguely from another week. They’re both brawny, cornfed Midwestern types, one blond and beefy, the other darker with too much eyebrow.
They take in my bound, naked body, my red ass and the cum dripping down my leg, and look horrified. Blondie looks at me with concern, asks if I want to be released.
I’m about to say “yes,” but I think about it, and realize I’m just doing what Simon wanted, and, (who am I fooling) just what I want too. I can’t say that either.
I just say “No, but I’d like some water.”
Blondie recoils a bit, suddenly realizing what a slut he’s speaking to. He stands there, indecisive, while Chuck quietly goes and brings back a glass of water for me, holds it to my lips, helps me drink.
Then the line really formed to the right. After this I don’t remember all the details. Blondie was first, apparently over his moral qualms, and he slid inside my cunt quickly, while apparently repelled by the rest of me. He didn’t touch me at all except with his smallish cock.
Just as I was starting to enjoy it, he came, then pulled out and, still stiff, started to poke at my ass. “Just a minute, pardner,” said Richard. “It’ll be another twenty-five dollars for a second hole.”
I remember groaning, choking with humiliation at that.
He must have paid up, since he then pumped away at my aching ass, still sore from Chuck and Richard. I was glad he was smaller, but as I climaxed, I was probably thinking of Chuck. I felt more bills being stuffed into my stay-ups. I had to lick Blondie clean, too. The taste was sickening, and I retched, but I knew I deserved it.
Eyebrow came next, and I don’t remember what his cock was like – my pussy was getting sore by now and they all felt the same – but he slapped my rump, grabbed every part of my body he could reach, pulled my head or sometimes my tits back, and grunted “bitch, bitch, bitch” in my ear with each thrust.
By then the others at the Bible Study must have wondered what was keeping their boys, and they were all waiting outside the room. There was no more space to crowd in, and I could hear Chuck out selling tickets as Richard kept an eye on me.
While the third Bible boy came to take a turn inside me, I heard Betty and two other girls murmuring in shock and pity to each other. I was really starting to dislike Betty.
I wanted to yell “Rape!” I wanted to tell them no, it was me, Lynn, their fellow Christian, and could they please come and rescue me from this outrage. It would have worked.
But I didn’t. Jesus forgive me, I had no gag, but I stayed silent, except for the helpless moans and whimpers that I couldn’t hold back each time I came close to yet another orgasm from a strange man.
I was half-expecting a church-lady pussy to be thrust up into my face, but apparently not all of my fellow Bible thumpers are also total hypocrites. But they’re not particularly kind or helpful either.
The girls simply watched for a while, looked through those photos that I’d hoped would remain private forever (and I remembered who had asked Chuck to go rifling through the drawers) and then shook their heads sadly, clucking with pity. Betty came around in front of me and told me that this was the last straw; that she didn’t want me around anymore.
I’d never see Bible Study the same way again.
At some point someone got the idea that my mouth needed servicing too, and they gave my leash a bit more slack and I ended up skewered, filling both ends at once for a while. I didn’t want that to stop, honestly.
When all the boys were done with me, and I’m sure some of them came back for seconds, I found myself alone with Richard, and lots of bills in my stockings, which were no longer stay-ups. They were covered in semen, as were my hair and face.
Richard took all the money, stacked it neatly beside the well-thumbed photos, and put both piles in a top drawer, closed it up. I guess most of it was Chuck’s, but Chuck had already left.
Now I’m exhausted, sore, and mortally embarrassed. I just want to shower and then curl up quietly alone with a nice, strong man. And Richard seems to sense that. He unclips my leash, picks the locks on the handcuffs with some little metal thing I haven’t seen before, takes off the shoes and stockings and takes me into the shower to clean me up.
While he washes me, head to toe, he asks if I really have more cleaning to do. That’s sweet of him.
I tell him I still have the kitchen floor and my Master’s room to clean. He smiles at bit at the “Master,” tells me in his strong, sleepy way to relax, that he and Chuck have it covered.
He bundles me up in some warm sweatpants and a sweatshirt, brings me water, and leaves me curled up on my own bed.
As I drift into a comfortable sleep, the bruises and aches feel warm instead of sore. It occurs to me that if Simon’s not home by now, he probably won’t be at all. Sarah really is going to be good for him. I love it when a plan comes together.
Author's Note: This story has been completed (21 chapters) and published as "From Zealot to Harlot", available at the bdsmbooks website.
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