Part 3 - Kirsty Entertains
In which Kirsty makes the intimate acquaintance of some new abusers...
The Slob's father was a man generally known as Mack. He was a chain
smoking scruff in his early sixties with a stubble of a beard and an attitude
and physique that was as hard as nails. Unlike his son, he was thin and
muscular. Years of working on road gangs had toughened him up and he retained a
distinct Scottish accent despite his move from Glasgow to London more than forty
years before. His arms were tanned a sort of nicotine brown and covered with
amorphous green tattoos.
Mack popped in to see his son, a week after Kirsty's capture. The Slob
let him into the flat and made no comment as his eyes were inevitably drawn to
Kirsty were she stood at the sink doing the washing up. Dressed in a French
maid's uniform the little blonde was a marvellously erotic sight and the Slob
couldn't resist a smirk as he saw expressions of surprise, lust and slow envy
creep across his father's face.
"This yer new girl friend", Mack said as he took a seat.
"She should be so lucky!", the Slob said gleefully. "Nah, she's just my
maid. Kirsty! Make us both a cup of tea will you?"
The Slob was a study in casual disinterest as Kirsty scuttled to boil
the kettle and fill the teapot. He did not fail to notice the way that Mack
ogled the anxious young blonde. Soon Kirsty had set a plate of biscuits in front
of the men and poured them tea. The Slob clicked his fingers which was a signal
for the maid to wait by his chair with her hands behind her back. Kirsty's skirt
was remarkably short and her stockinged legs were on full view and easily
accessible to her master - a fact which he now took advantage of. With a twinkle
in his eye the fat man ran his hand up and down Kirsty's left leg, making Mack
stop and stare openly.
"I thought you said she wasn't your girlfriend?", he said glancing up at
Kirsty's downcast face. A delightful pink blush had spread over her face. The
young woman was plainly embarrassed by the Slob's attentions, although of course
it was nothing she had not experienced before. But never yet in front of anyone
else.
"She isn't", the Slob laughed. "She's just a maid. She cooks and cleans
and makes my bed. But that isn't the extent of her duties. You see I've found
other uses for her body and they are part of her conditions of employment. Very
enjoyable they are too!"
"She fucks like a bunny rabbit on heat don't you Kirsty?", the Slob
gloated.
"You mean she's just a silly little tart you've picked up somewhere?",
Mack said.
"She's no such thing!", the Slob answered angrily, squeezing Kirsty's
leg hard. "A tart only opens her legs for money. Kirsty spreads herself whenever
I tell her too and no questions asked! And she doesn't have any ideas about
money! No, sir! For Kirsty, accommodating my cock inside her sweet flesh is all
part of the job and she does it whether she wants to or not."
Mack was grinning openly now. He didn't know how his son had done it but
this lovely blonde woman seemed to be in thrall to the overweight monster who
was now so openly pawing her body. He ventured another question.
"So she does everything you tell her, eh?"
"That's right!"
"Then I suppose she'd give me a ride if you told her to?"
The Slob laughed at this father's ingenuity, highly amused at the turn
of the conversation.
"Of course", he said. "Take her into the bedroom and give her a stuffing
if you want."
He turned to Kirsty. The blonde was trembling noticeably and trying to
avoid his gaze but she knew that she had to do as she was told. The prospect of
being passed from the Slob to his father as though she were no more than a toy
was one which horrified her.
"You'd better do exactly what my Dad tells you to", the Slob said. "If
he isn't completely satisfied with you then my friend Michael will be paying a
half a dozen visits to your bottom!"
He chuckled as Kirsty whimpered in fear.
"Come on then wench!", Mack said, suddenly grabbing her hand and
dragging her away from his son. "Let's see if you're as good as my boy thinks
you are!"
Soon Kirsty was lying on the bed with her legs apart and her dress
hitched up about her waist. Mack was amused to find that she worse no panties
and he felt no need for her to undress further. So the helpless young blonde was
fucked by the cruel old man, still wearing her French Maid's uniform. Mack
enjoyed the encounter enormously and didn't care that Kirsty seemed to be
fighting an enormous internal battle to resist him. The important point was that
she lost that battle whenever he so much as raised his voice. She was sweet,
submissive and very accommodating. After a vigorous pumping in which he gave her
a full dose of his spunk, he had the girl undress so he could fondle her breasts
and touch her up before ordering her to lick his cock clean. Mack had no
complaints when he returned to the living room. In fact he had made up his mind
to visit more often and take regular advantage of his son's hospitality....
The Slob didn't have a job - or at least he didn't have the sort of job
which could be declared to the Inland Revenue. But he did make money in a number
of dubious ways. In fact his main source of income came from handling stolen
goods and selling them on to a variety of contacts. He was a fence, and it was
in this capacity that had come across the instruments he had used so
successfully to enslave Kirsty. One of the many small time petty crooks who
provided him with hot property had 'lifted' the hypnotic toolkit as part of his
haul from breaking into a Volvo in a badly secured multi-storey car park. The
young criminal wasn't particularly smart and had no idea what he'd taken. The
Slob, however, found the equipment and the accompanying documentation
fascinating. He didn't know who was producing this kind of experimental material
although there were clues suggesting secret government sources. As far as the
Slob was concerned the important thing was that they had no way to trace the
theft to him and that he could perform his own experiments...
Two weeks had elapsed since Kirsty moved into the Slob's flat and began
to serve as his slave. In that time she had learned a lot about his requirements
and special preferences; much of her knowledge reinforced by frequent bare
bottom spankings and an occasional dose of the cane. She quickly grew accustomed
to washing, cleaning and cooking, always wearing her French maid's outfit, but
she still hated the more intimate sexual duties which her owner compelled her to
perform. The Slob didn't care about that. He was delighted with Kirsty's
acquiescence and enjoyed every aspect of his new property.
One Monday evening the Slob invited a few of his friends round to watch
a West Ham game on satellite. They were a motley crew; all of them twisted
mentally and in some cases physically to match. There was Mack, of course, who
was intrigued to see how the others would react to Kirsty. Ricky was a young
'enforcer'. A nasty piece of work with a crew cut and a bad attitude. Larry was
a used car salesman with greasy skin and a greasy attitude. Even his legitimate
business was a form of robbery and he wasn't averse to a little criminal
activity on the side. The Slob got on very well with him. And finally there was
'big Tony', a very unsavoury specimen indeed...
"This your new piece of stuff?", Ricky asked with the apparent casual
interest that might normally apply to discussions about a motor car or some
other inanimate object. The Slob had told all his guests about Kirsty and in
truth they were fascinated by the concept of controlling an unwilling young
woman so completely. But none of them wanted to give him the satisfaction of
open envy and so everyone pretended it was an everyday situation.
Kirsty was a very alluring sight in black stockings with a ridiculously
short dress and impractical high heels. She stood nervously in the corner,
certain that this would be a very unpleasant occasion. The Slob had told her
that he expected her to obey his friends just as if he were giving the orders
himself and she was dreading the possibilities. Perhaps however - and here she
clung to hope before reason - perhaps they would do no more than letch. Perhaps
they wouldn't dare to molest her. It was bad enough that she had become the
Slob's plaything but the humiliation of this public confirmation of her role was
too much to bare. She bit her lip and fought not to cry.
"Nice legs but her tits are on the small side", the young thug
continued. "Still not a bad little looker I'll grant you that."
"She's got the place into shape", Tony commented with approval. Tony was
even more gross than the Slob - an habitue of the dog tracks and an inveterate
liar. Still, his statement this time was true. The grotty mess that was the
usual state of the flat had been transformed into something remarkably tidy and
clean. The fat man grinned and flicked his cigarette ash onto the carpet.
"Well", he said with malicious glee. "Clean it up girl - it's what
you're here for isn't it?"
Kirsty scurried to get a dust pan and brush, crawling on all fours to
sweep the ash away. Her dress rode up and presented the onlookers with a perfect
view of her suspenders and knickerless bottom.
"She's a shameless little trollop isn't she?", one of the men muttered.
Kirsty wanted to object - to deny the men their contemptuous opinions.
"I'm not! I'm not! It's the Slob - he keeps me like this!", she shouted inside
but of course she daren't give voice to any such compliant aloud. Instead,
meekly, she just cleaned the floor and waited for the next set of instructions.
When the football match started, Kirsty was ordered to wait on the men,
bringing them drinks and snacks and performing any menial task which amused
them. She was groped continuously, her thighs and buttocks, stroked squeezed and
pinched as she strove to please them.
At one point, after she'd brought 'big Tony' an ice cold larger, he made
her sit on his lap as he eased her right breast out of her dress. Using the can
like a rolling pin he squashed the soft flesh repeatedly against her chest to
the extent that the pressure and the cold combined to produce a painful mixture
of unbearable stimulation. Kirsty had squirmed desperately in an effort to avoid
the worst effects, whimpering like a dumb animal but it was to no avail. The
cruel treatment continued until her tormentor ran his thumb over her nipple and
finding it hardened by his abuse, pinched it sharply before pushing her away
with a evil chuckle.
Unfortunately for Kirsty, Bradford City scored a late goal in the last
minute, condemning West Ham to defeat and putting all the Slob's guests into a
foul mood. 'Ah well', the Slob thought, 'there's always the post match
entertainment'.
"Well then", Larry said as the TV was switched off. "Why don't we see if
your silly little wench has any use apart from keeping your house clean? How
about you get your kit off for us then girlie? Time we saw what you're made of."
Kirsty swallowed nervously. It was the moment she had been dreading but
there would be no escape. All eyes were on her now as she slowly removed her
clothing.
"Hands together and put them behind your head", the Slob ordered sharply
after she had folded her dress over the chair, placed her shoes under the table
and carefully peeled off her stockings. "Chin up and turn round slowly so my
friends can all get a good look at you!"
A succession of crude comments followed and then the demand that made
her stomach drop to a new low and begin to churn with anxiety.
"OK, Kirsty, I want to see you play with yourself for my friends now.
And do it good - like you mean it or I'll put you over my knee and spank you!
Start with your tits. Give 'em a good squeeze!"
To the intense interest of the men, the submissive blonde reached up and
began to manipulate the soft mounds of her sensitive young breasts, squashing
and kneading them between her fingers. The girl's wide blue eyes were blank
with anxiety and her skin was pale.
"Harder!", the Slob ordered, "and start on your cunt now!"
Tentatively the fingers of her left hand went down to her sex whilst her
other hand continued it's rhythmic pressure on her mammary glands..
"Poke 'em in there and work 'em round!", one of the men said crudely to
raucous laughs. It was hopeless. Kirsty felt like crying and her face began to
screw up. She was so ashamed and she had seldom felt less aroused since falling
under the thrall of her cruel captor. This disgraceful exhibition brought home
to her the true depth of her humiliation.
But she could still do nothing about it. Her fingers opened the lips
between her legs and began to push against the sensitive nub of her clitoris
with hopeless desperation.
The Slob watched amused for a while then impatiently he said, "Would it
be better if I told you to do it for me Sugar Pie".
That was all she needed. The key words pushed her well programmed mind
into the smooth and narrow track for which she was now so well prepared. Kirsty
gave a little gasp and felt herself heating up. The girl's nipples were like
bright pink berries, swollen and sore as they pulsed with a new arousal. Her
hips wriggled in sudden excitement and her sex moistened.
"That's better", Ricky said, satisfied. The men watched in fascination
for some minutes as the increasingly frustrated little blonde played with
herself and tried to achieve a climax. She couldn't of course. The Slob's
programming has been highly effective in blocking even this form of release
from Kirsty's terrible mental bondage. An orgasm was only permitted with his
specific permission and this time he withheld it, enjoying the sight of her
juicing and cooking before his friends...
To alleviate her increasing distress, Kirsty found herself applying
increasing pressure to her breasts, pulling, squeezing and even pinching the
elastic flesh until it ached beneath her - the self inflicted pain acting as a
distraction from her desperate need.
"I think she needs a bit of help", Tony said. "This'll finish her!"
The Slob grinned. His bald friend was waving around an empty brown beer
bottle. "Go ahead", he said and then more loudly to Kirsty, "Open yer legs for
the gentleman, bitch. He's gonna stick something in yer twat that'll sort you
out proper!"
Kirsty's face was bright red with embarrassment and discomfort as she
walked over to the horrid man and let him do as he wanted. The neck of the
bottle was pushed into her most intimate portal and thrust crudely back and
forth.
"You can come now", the Slob said at last, and to her intense shame
Kirsty did.
It was only the prelude to a general orgy in which every one of the
Slob's friends took their pleasure with the blonde girl's submissive young body.
In the course of the next hour the woman was spared no humiliation which might
conceivably satisfy the lusts of her captor's friends. Brought to the point of
orgasm on numerous occasions she was only allowed to achieve a climax by begging
for it, humbly and sincerely. The Slob led the way in breaching the sensitive
entrance to Kirsty's beautiful little bottom - a form of sexual assault from
which he had hitherto refrained. Today, though, no holds were barred. After a
sound spanking, he forced her buttocks apart and lubricated the area round her
anguished sphincter with a jar of Vaseline. The girl's buttocks convulsed with
reflexive resistance, but to no avail as he rolled on top and plugged his
triumphant organ inside. The warmth of the freshly punished flesh leant extra
pleasure to the cruel fat man as he pumped his seed inside her. Then she was
passed round to the others and her body worked over and well used.
The Slob was very pleased with the result of his party. When the men
finally left, he thanked them for coming and instructed his maid to kiss each
one of her grinning assailants for the final time. Kirsty had been a real
success. Remembering the moment when he had first laid eyes on the sweet little
blonde the Slob felt a warm glow of achievement, secure in the knowledge that
all his plans for the unfortunate young insurance technician had born fruit. The
complete transformation from pretty and demure office worker to desperate and
powerless sex slave had taken less than two months. Now she was his to enjoy,
again and again, whenever he wanted...
