Amsterdamned

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AmsterdamnedAt what age it can be definitely classed as that, is for lawmakers andjudges to decide. UK law is clear but not always a realistic guide. Forreasons of shame or guilt many gay or trans youngsters have found thatcasual sex with much older adults was the only discreet way of exploringtheir own sexuality, before they felt ready to step into the morefamiliar minefield of emotional relationships with people nearer theirown age.An age-limit there must undoubtedly be, and obviously for the protectionof vulnerable young teenagers it has to be rather a blunt tool. But manyadults (and not all of them ‘retro-fantasisers’!) have told me they wereco-erced by no-one at 13 and 14, 11 in the case of one friend, into actswhich the adults with them could clearly have been arrested for ongrounds of ‘paedophilia’. But the men themselves, at least in thestories recounted to me, were certainly guilty of little more than ahelping hand or providing a rudimentary sexual ‘road-map’, not the moreuniversally despised ‘predatory paedophilia’ the tabloids- so gleefully! – miss no opportunity to describe…My justifications for those parts of the novel where real paedophileurges – of an absolutely unacceptable kind in any context other thanfiction – are ‘voiced’ areA) that I know them to be far more common as fantasies than seems to berecognised officially, from first-hand experience of the men I haveserved over the years.B) From the age of 12 onwards, as my transvestism took full hold, Irepeatedly had them myself, always as the ‘victim’ of such scenarios andoften visualising myself even younger than I was, to increase my’helplessness’ in the fantasy. Indeed my own real-life woodlandramblings as a TV teen were intended to make them come true! The worstthoughts some of my characters express were no worse than the nastiestfate I dreamed of and longed for for myself – at 13 or 14.C) I believe in my personal right to think any thought I choose, howeverwicked others may find it and even to write it down for other adults toread. I do not believe reading Mein Kampf 20 times could turn me into aNazi, nor do I believe reading my novel (or any other for that matter)can turn someone into a paedophile…Read on.AMSTERDAMA novel by Suki SlutChapter 1I am a transvestite. I started wearing my mother’s and sister’s thingswhen I was 13. One day when I was 14 I went up to the woods that backedonto our garden. About half a mile from our house I found a quiet spotin the middle of a large clumpof rhododendron bushes and stripped off my jacket and jeans. Under themI was wearing stockings, suspenders, bra and panties. The thrill ofknowing someone might catch me like that was indescribable.Soon ISoon I was regularly slipping up there. The first time I tooksome of my mother’s high heels and wore them in the wood transformed theexcitement I felt. My body seemed to change, pushing out my bottom more,forcing my hips to sway girlishly. The uneven forest ground and the highheels meant that I could only take take small steps. The knowledge thatI could not possibly make a run for it, and escape if someone saw me,actually positively encouraged me to leave my discarded boy’s clothesand walk around the woods. But I was still so nervous that I couldn’tbring myself to actually walk along the paths where I might have beenseen. Instead I stayed in the bushes and at the slightest sound I wouldfreeze with terror.And yet I knew I wanted someone to catch me like that. I wanted a man to**** me in fact. So I began to take belts and ties with me. I would finda fallen tree-trunk, tie up my ankles and knees, lay down over it andthen tie my wrists as best I could. Lying there with my panties showingunder a short skirt of my sister’s, knowing that it would take meseveral minutes to free myself was the most heavenly feeling. If anyonehappened to spot me I would be quite helpless, and it would be instantlyobvious to them that I was begging for it. What else could they think ofa ‘girl’ in a wood, tied up over a tree-stump with her pantiesinvitingly displayed and waiting to be lowered.At home in the bathroom I had experimented to find out what being ****dwould feel like. I often pushed things up my bottom while wearingundies. I knew that it hurt, especially if it was done quickly, and yetthe strange ‘full’ sensation in my tummy when my bottom finally gapedaround a hairbrush handle or deodorant bottle was ecstasy to me. And ifsomething was stuffed in my mouth as well the twin feelings of helplessopenness at each end of my body made me really feel that my body wasnothing but a long double-ended cunt-tunnel. Penetrated and gagged likethat, it was easy to imagine I was a schoolgirl being abused and ****dby stiff greedy cocks. But two things were missing from my ‘****’:. Ihad to move the things in the spaces inside me. A, and I was old enoughto know by now that when a man fucked a cunt, mouth or bottom the climaxof his pleasure was only reached when his balls tightened and sent jetsof hot milky sperm gushing into the person he fucked.My imaginary ****s were always incomplete and unsatisfying because myvirgin schoolgirl ‘quim’ and mouth had not been left soiled and oozywith sperm. I began to hunger for the real thing. One day I was in thebathroom dressed in undies and high heels, my face made up and my hairdone in soft girlish curls. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, mymouth gagged with some stained panties of my sister. The taste of hervagina on the nylon made my mouth feel more like another cunt to befucked. The lacy nylon panties I wore were half-wayhalfway down mythighs and my vaselined bottom was poised on the tip of a broom handle.Suddenly I saw a bottle of my mother’s face moisturiser on the shelfbeside me. It had a ‘pump-action’ top and the liquid inside the bottlewas a greyish-white creamy fluid. I grabbed the bottle and as I sankonto the broom and felt it penetrate deeply into my belly from behind Isquirted the cream into my panties and over my stocking-tops. Thefeeling inside me and the sight of the spunk-like splashes tricklingdown my thighs made me come instantly with a shatteringly deliciousorgasm. I hadn’t touched my cock and balls once during the entiresession.After that I knew it was only a matter of time before I was fucked by amana man fucked me. In fact I began to feel guilty that I hadn’t beenalready. I would stare at my crimson lipstick-covered lips and cheekspink with blusher and whisper obscene dirty commands to myself.”Come on, you dirty little slut-whore, get those panties down thisinstant! Your mouth and cunt are there for men to ram their cocks into.You are nothing but a little fuck-slut. You should be out somewhere thatmen can lift your short skirt and bare your cheeky whore’s bottom! Yourstupid tart’s face should be full of a man’s cockshaft until he shootshis hot spunk-cream down your throat, bitch!! That is what your lips arefor.”By the time I was 15′ I had realised clearly what I wanted more thananything: to be enslaved by men. The thrills I had managed to givemyself until then had palled and become unexciting. I wanted – needed -the thing I had simulated so often to really happen. I wanted men tomake me feel so used, soiled and dirtied that I would come to acceptthat it was my function to be their sexual plaything, their cock-slave -my only function. I wanted to be taken forcibly and gang-****d until Iwas begging for more and the only thought in my head was to make my bodypleasing to them, the only urge I possessed was to feel my fleshsqueezing round their cock-shafts.I knew where I had to go. One day I went to the local toilets. What Isaw written on the walls sent shivers of nervous anticipation andexcitement through the very centre of my body. There were long messagesfrom undie-slaves describing what they wore and what they were preparedto do for ‘Masters’. And there were detailed drawings of men fuckingboys clad in undies. I knew at once that I must put my name up on thewall and offer myself to be trained as an obedient maid, like theothers.I had never thought of it before but now realised that I neededa name, a female identity. I wanted something that no-oneno one elsewould pick. There were Wendys, Paulas, Jennys, Amandas, Tracys, Julies,Samanthas. All the common – and ‘common’ names – were there: whores’names. My sister’s middle name was Susan, but there were two differentSusans, a Sue and a Susie. I wanted my name to sound like what I wasfor, like sex itself. I liked the ‘s’; spunk, slut, slit, spurt, squirm,suck…suck. Fuck. I was there to be fucked, there to suck.Suki……Suki Slut. Suki Suckslut. Suki Spunkslut. Suki Sexmaid. It wasperfect; unusual enough not to find I had a rival by the same name and;rather oriental – , like one of those submissive geisha girls;, likeperfect china-dolls, who actually exist for men to use, and whosefragile c***dlike appearances belie the fact that they are trained to besubservient sex-slaves, and whose slim white bodies may not refuse thekinkiest or most perverted whim of the men they serve.It conveyed precisely what I felt myself to be and how I looked: aschoolgirl whose very innocence was itself part of her provocativenessso that the pleasure of penetrating and spunking into her should be evensharper and sweeter, a girl whose slender young pubescent body existedto provide a juicy tender quimslit and fresh cherry-ripe lips. A c***dmen could abuse and **** like a slut without a qualm or scruple.My fingers trembled so badly I could barely hold the pencil. In a thinspidery scrawl I wrote a message offering to accept the role which themessages scrawled over almost every inch of those toilets suggested wasmy only permitted one in a toilet. ‘Slim pretty 15-year-old undie-slutneeds strict Masters to **** her into submission, teach her that herbody is their property and train her to be an obedient sex-maidspunk-slut for kinky toilet orgies. Suki.’Though I did still occasionally go for walks in the woods after that tore-experience the frisson of excitement at being a flirt out in theopen, I now spent more and more time at the toilets, where I felt evenmore defenceless and frightened than hiding deep in some bushes. I wouldgo into a cubicle, lock the door, undress and then dress as a girl, allthe time hardly daring to breathe I was so quiet. Hearing men so closeby, at the urinals and in the cubicles on either side of me, evencatching glimpses of them wanking through holes in the partition- walls,and knowing that they only had to look over the top to see me, createdwhirlwind storms of butterflies in the pit of my stomach.Terror churned through my veins as the cold breeze swept up mystockinged legs and round flimsy red nylon-and-lace panties that clungto my bottom. I saw messages under the one I had written and shrankagainst the back wall with fright at the thought of the men who hadwritten them being the ones on either side of me.”I’ll teach you to worship my cock, Suki bitch. Be here at 8 pm nextTuesday and I’ll make your bum take all my 8 inches.”…” … “”Reportfor duty on Sunday at 2-o-clock to begin your training, tart. You’ll beon your knees licking my balls and cock, begging me to spunk down yourthroat, you impudent cheeky bitch!! Then you’ll take down your pantiesfor another Master to ram his knob in your quimslit and we’ll fill youfull of spunk from both ends at once. Sluts like you are only fit forone thing: to be your Masters’ cock-slave!!” “… “”This little fuckingtease never turned up! Where were you, whore? Be here next Sunday orelse!!” “…””Tina, genuine undie-slave, will be here if Suki doesn’tturn up, Master. Excellent O & A grades, and all kinky whims obeyed.””I was so close to the moment of my initiation and yet still so far.Notes came under the partition.”Lovely shoes. Let’s see your bum, slut. Stand opposite hole.’ I grewbraver, but still, whenever I felt a shadow above my head, or after aminute or two posing in front of a hole that I knew had a sex-hungry eyeglued to it on the other side, I fled terrified.One day a few months after I had first written my message, just beforemy 16th birthday, I was in the middle cubicle. I was usually shy ofgoing into it since I knew that the hole between it and the one to itsleft was as large as someone’s wrist. But it was the only one free and Idashed into it, avoiding the interested gaze of two men at the urinals.There was a piece of toilet paper stuck over it and I left it there as Ichanged, trying not to make the smallest sound as I slipped my mother’sslinky black high heels on. With shaking fingers I put on eye-shadoweyeshadow, cheek blusher and the reddestsome deep crimson lipstick I hadfound in my sister’s make-up box. I ran my fingers through my hair untilit stood up in soft wavy curls, thenand then checked my face in thelittle hand-mirror I always brought. I looked like a girl aged somewherebetween 14 and 17.I bent and slipped a leather belt round my ankles and pulled the buckletight.To my left I saw the gap between the wall on the left and the floordarken. Then there was silence for a few minutes. I heard the menoutside whispering. Two stalls away from me I heard a door open, thenclose, then a soft rhythmic sound and someone panting. The smell of sexwas all around me. On the floor at my feet there were several glisteningsplashes whose cloudy grey colour told me they were sperm-drops from thecocks of previous occupants.I began to feel dreamy and strange in this dimly-litdimly lit temple ofmale lust, its walls covered in graphic pictures and stories of of thethings that had taken place there. I felt like a sacrificial virginwaiting for the priests to drag me to the altar where the crowd wouldroar with delight as I was stripped, penetrated, and simultaneously feltthe High Priest’s Cock enter me and saw a gleaming blade flash down andsting my exposed neck. The highest honour – the one all the ‘girls’ ofthis secret ‘other’ world were trained for, but only a select few, thefreshest, prettiest and most virginal were chosen for – to die upon theHigh Priest’s cock for the pleasure of the assembled watching crowd.A piece of toilet-papertoilet paper floated under the left-hand wall.”Get on your knees this instant and suck my cock, you teasing littleslut! That is an order, bitch.” Suddenly the flimsy paper over the holein the wall was pushed away and a gleaming red stiff knob came throughthe hole like a snake looking for its prey. As if hypnotised by it Iknelt facing it. Very slowly I leaned forwards and with a shock thattingled through every nerve-end in my body, my lips touched the oozingslit in the centre of the knob. It thrust against them as more of theshaft slid through the hole. I seemed to have no strength to resist as .Mmy lips parted and the hot flesh slidthat purple ‘thing’ slipped intomy mouth. The gag that filled my cheeks was no longer an inanimate pairof my sister’s soiled panties but the living throbbing flesh of a man’sexcited sex.The butterflies turned into liquid churning masses of snakes in my tummyas I felt my cheeks glowing scarlet. Now at last I knew – truly knew -what an utter little slut I must be with that overwhelmingly dirty thingcrammed tightly in my mouth. Shame raced through me from head to toelike that dirty wall of pyroplastic smoke roiling towards thePompeiians’ humdrum lives. Mine would be almost as transformed by thenext few minutes as theirs was that day.The sex motor whirring in my brain for four and a half years was Shame,from the moment of that first act. Now it had just discovered Nitro wasmuch more fun than the almost non-combustible parafin of my woodlandnymphet rambles. Shame had afterburners now. It could practically suckup all the oxygen in that toilet so that there seemed no air to breathe,only this enormous angry sex-monster to be obeyed by my meekly-surrendering mouth because……because a boy perverted enough to keep turning himself into teenagedgirl and then actually flaunting her in a place where she knew men wentfor sex deserved to be put to the dirtiest possible use. What other usecould there be for her?As if I had been doing it all my life – as if it were the thing I hadbeen born to do – my lips began to slide softly up and down upon thewarm stiff flesh. My mouth was at last doing what it was meant for. Iknew which part of my own little willy was most sensitive and ran mytongue up and down just under the head of this monstrously large thingthat made my cheeks swell. I was oblivious to everything except thesensation of my own helpless thralldom. I was terrified of my reactionif the knob suddenly began to erupt spunk into my face, yet I dared notstop.Suddenly the cock slid from my lips and was withdrawn. I stared at thehole, eager for it to reappear and frightened that I had displeased itin some way. The thought became a certainty in my head as I heard thedoor of that cubicle being unlocked. After a few seconds it closed againand I saw the cock reappear through the hole. But then I realised with ashock that it was a different one! The head was larger, the shaftthicker. Far from displeasing him, I had been offered by him to anotherman so that he might enjoy me as well!That was a shot in the arm of high grade uncut freshly-smuggled shame.My entire body was trembling like a leaf in a stiff breeze. I couldn’tstop it – any more than I could stop my mouth.I began to suck this new cock. I heard doors opening and closing nearbybut was too busy to take any notice. The slut was on her knees, doingwhat she knew she had been made for, what she had known for nearly 2years that she must do. I heard a soft tap-tap and then, just assuddenly as the first cock had disappeared, the second one waswithdrawn. I stayed on my knees, obediently waiting for a third toappear.Instead a piece of paper was pushed through the hole. When I read whatwas written on it my heart leapt into my throat and I whirled round andgazed at the door of my cubicle. A silent scream of pure despair filledmy head; my street clothes had vanished from the door-hook. I lookedround and saw that even my shoes had disappeared. The note said:’Unless you want to walk home dressed like you are now, you are going toobey your orders, you teasing bitch. Write your name and answer thesequestions:How old are you?Age when you first wore panties?Have you sucked cocks before?Have you been fucked yet?Have you been tied up?Whipped?Other experiences?’I stared at the note blankly, my mind frantically searching for someavenue of escape from this trap. I could think of none though. Iscribbled the answers:”Suki. 15. 11. Not before today. No. Sometimes I’ve tied myself up in— Woods. No. None.’ Then I added ‘Please please can I have my otherclothes back, Sir.’ and slipped it under the wall. A minute or so lateranother message was returned.’I know why you’re here dressed like a tart, Suki; I’ve seen the messageyou wrote, you cheeky little slut. For a girl who’s never sucked a cockbefore today your juicy little mouth wrapped itself round my knob quickenough! You are nothing but a cockteasing little FUCKING fucking WHORE.You Little pansified tartsPansies like you are born to belong to yourMasters and it’s high time you were properly trained as our submissiveundie-slave. I will tap my foot on the floor three times and i. If yourdoor is not unlocked by then you’ll be in big troubleI’ll leave withyour other clothes. You’ll have to open it eventually and when you doyou’ll be made to bend over, your panties taken down and your bare bumwhipped until you are begging for mercy. Leave that belt round yourankles. When your door is unlocked, turn and face the back wall and whenyou hear your door open, lift your skirt.’The shiny black toe-captoecap of a man’s shoe appeared under thepartition. I stared at it with my heart thumping crazily. Slowly thetoe-captoecap raised and then tapped the floor. There was a pause andthen it tapped again. Before it raised a third time I reached out andgrabbed the door-bolt. I saw the foot lift and began to slide the boltback. The noise it made seemed like a deafening screech in my ears butthe toe stopped, suspended an inch or two off the ground. Suddenly thebolt was free. I stood there with my knees knocking and remembering myinstructions,instructions; I turned to face the back wall. I was glad ofthat since I was sure if I had to watch my door being pushed open Iwould have fainted to the floor.The hinge of the door creaked and made me jump with fright at the sound.I felt the breeze grow stronger as it blew against my legs through theopen doorway. I was acutely conscious that for the first time in my lifemen’s eyes were drinking in the sight of the whole of my scantily-cladscantily clad body, rather than just the small anonymous scrap thathad been visible through the holes in the cubicle walls.I stood awkwardly, the toes of my stiletto shoes pointed in. My fingersfumbled to grip the hem of the short black flared skirt of my sister’sthat I was wearing. Then I began to raise it. I heard a low breathy’Ooooh!’ of pleasure as my stocking-tops, suspenders and the bare whitebacks of my thighs were exposed. I lifted the skirt higher and knew fromthe sounds behind me that at least two men were now staring at my bottomin the red lace panties I wore.”Put your arms out behind your back and cross your wrists, slut.” came awhispered command. I dropped my skirt and obeyed. Hands gripped my ownand I felt a leather belt being wound round my wrists. Then it wasyanked tight and the buckle done up. The hands released mine, but now mywrists were trapped behind my back. I felt something being slipped overmy left wrist and tightened. Then hands passed it round my right hip,and across my front and round my back over my left hip. My right wristwas pulled across nearer that side and then a loop was slid over thatwrist. Then that was tightened.It was a tie and its effect was to ensure that my hands could not curlback and somehow loosen the buckle of the belt that restrained me. Myarms were useless.”Lift your skirt and show your Masters your panties again, you teasingbitch, Suki!” came another command from a different voice. My fingersscrabbled to catch at the material of my skirt.”Come on, quickly, you fucking whore!” I managed to raise my skirt untilI had it gathered into my hands behind my back.”Oooh, fucking gorgeous!! She’s just like a fucking teasing schoolgirl,with her cheeky little arse begging for it in those knickers.””This teasing bitch has let me down twice by failing to show up when shewas told to report.” A hand touched my bottom and made me squirm withfright so I almost lost my balance. A third voice chimed in:”Me too. And her note said she’s never had a cock in that juicy littlebum before.” The voice whispered in my ear, the man’s mouth close enoughfor me to smell the nicotine on his breath:”Oooooh…you pretty little schoolgirl moppet slut!…” The wordssizzled in my brain as he hissed them to me. “…Never had it up yourfanny before, eh? Is that true, tart?” I shook my head. “Promise, slut?Never had your panties slipped down and a man’s stiff knob squeezed intoyour quimslit?” I didn’t think broom-handles or deodorant bottle countedand anyway I was now terrified of the idea of a cock going into methere. I didn’t want the man to think I was ready for it. I shook myhead again.”You’re really a virgin then? Say it, Suki…Tell your Masters you’re avirgin and we may decide to be nice to you and let you go.””P-please s-s-sirs,” I stammered. “I…I’ve…never done it…with aman…I’m still a virgin.” The hand stroking my panties suddenlysqueezed harder until the nails dug through the nylon into my bum-cheekand made me wince. Someone slipped passed me on the other side and Ifound myself looking up into the unshaven face of a large man with abeer-belly hanging over his waist-bandwaistband. Below it his stiffcock-shaft poked through his flies. He stared at me with glitteringeyes, taking in my little padded ‘breasts’ and slender nylon-encasedlegs. The voice continued in my ear.”I reckon you’re lying about your age. You don’t look 15, more like 12or 13 at the most. We don’t like girls under 14. They’re too young to beslaves. Tell us how old you really are.”I was terrified of those large coarse hands exploring the curves of mybottom and desperate for them to let me go. I had only just begun toreach puberty at 15 and my face was still quite hairless, elfin andpretty like a girl’s. I knew I looked much younger than other boys myage and saw a glimmer of hope that they’d release me.”I…I’m…I’m only 13, please Sir…I’ll be 14 next month.” I said,hoping the truth that it really was my birthday soon would cover thehesitation in my voice as I lied about which one. The man facing megrinned and his hand stroked his cock. Two pairs of hands were nowtouching me from behind and the man in front of me smiled and touched mythigh with his free hand, then slid it up the front of my skirt andsqueezed the little soft bulge my cock and balls made in my pantie-crotch. He said:”She feels more like 11 or 10 years old to me.” His fingers closed onthe flesh of my scrotum through the nylon and squeezed it until he’dforced my little balls up into my tummy. His thumb pushed my finger-sized willy inwards as well. “Yes, that lovely little hairless quim-slitdoesn’t feel more than 10 years old at the most.” His grin spread wideras his right hand continued to rub the huge thick shaft of pink fleshsticking up from his flies. I realised then that they had no intentionof letting me go and had deliberately tricked me into saying I wasyounger than I really was just to make the thrill of what they weredoing even sweeter.”What’s a naughty little moppet of 13 doing in a men’s toilets wearingstockings and suspenders… and flashing her cute little bum in red lacepanties – unless she wants to be fucked…” said the man on my left. Ishivered as fingers slid inside the waistband of my panties at the backand began exploring my naked bottom. A voice behind my right shouldersaid:”Yes. Cheeky little moppet’s begging for it, wouldn’t you say? Heardabout what the older girls at her school get up to and wants a taste ofcock up her tight little virgin quim. Oooooh, feel that…her arse is assmooth as silk. I bet she’s flashed her tight-knickered bum at loads ofguys while playing on swings in the park…God, young schoolgirls aresuch cockteasers!””Yeah! I think she wants us to slip her panties down and try her littlevirgin fuckslit round our cocks…” I felt my panties being slipped downoff my bumcheeks. I was shaking with terror and whispered:”No…please… please Sirs!… Don’t… please…””What’s the matter, little baby? Scared of how your quimslit will feelwhen it’s gaping round my cock? Cheeky little bitch, saying ‘don’t’ onesecond and then ‘please’ the next…””11 or 1213 is just the perfect age for these cockteasing littledarlings to learn what their holes are for. Once they’re older theystart getting ideas and keep their legs shut. But if you get a littlemoppet young enough she can still learn that her fuck-slits are there toplease men any time we want her. Teasing moppets like you should all be****d and filled with spunk, to teach you to please men not teasethem.” Suddenly he whispered very softly and slowly into my ear: “Andwe’re going to **** you…right…now…you little sweetie.”Sweat trickled down my body as my panties were yanked half-wayhalfwaydown my legs. At the same moment the brawny arm of the man towering overme reached out. He grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to bendover.”Here’s a lovely treat for you, baby. A nice big hot gobstopper for youto suck, moppet. Get it right into your mouth and give it a lovely longsuck.” He said as he pushed my mouth down onto his erect knob. I gave amuffled moan of protest as I felt something being smeared in between mybum-cheeks but the fingers instantly tightened on my neck and a voicebehind me whispered:”If you make another sound before we’ve all finished with you, I’ll caneyour arse till you’re really squealing! You’re our cock-slave now, girl,understand. Your body belongs to us, your Masters. That means we don’texactly whatever we want with you. And you fucking well take it and likeit, bitch. From now on the only time you open your stupid mouth is tosuck your Masters or to beg for the next cock!!” His hand suddenlylanded across my taut naked bottom with three stinging smacks. “Hold herwaist still while I get it in her.”Hands went round my waist and gripped me tightly as my mouth struggledto take the large knob that thrust upwards into my face. I feltsomething press against my anal hole and tried to clench my cheekstogether to prevent it entering me. But, bent over as I was, my cheekswere splayed -and parted. And as the pressure against my bottomincreased the man just said with a cruel little laugh:”Oooooh yesss baby!!! Nice and tight!! Let’s feel that 1213-year-oldquim-slit squirming to try and stop itself being ****d…” He gripped myhips tightly and then I felt a searing stab of pain in my bottom as hepushed me open and his knob went inside me. My eyes were squeezed tightshut yet I could see a fiery red blazing sunburst of pain in front ofthem. I felt I was choking, my mouth crammed to the back of my tonguewith hot flesh.”Feel that, bitch!! Your hole is gaping round my knob. It’s time youfelt the whole of a man’s cock up your vagina, baby. Feel it, eh bitch?Feel my cock inside your cunt, little cockteaser? Feel it r****g you,little schoolgirl-SLUT!!!” I gasped and moaned as a tong of ice seemedto thrust its violent way up inside my belly. The pain redoubled as itseemed to come from two places now: the gaping forced entrance into mybottom and a second pain deep inside me somewhere up near my waist, atmy very centre. I was sure I was about to die since it felt as if he hadpushed a 12-inch-long spear into my tummy. I expected to feel my ownblood streaming down my legs and into my high heels. The man’s hipspressed against my bum and I realised that he had thrust himself quicklyand mercilessly to the hilt inside me.Before I had recovered from the terrible nauseous shockwave of pain thathis inward thrust sent through me something warm started to gush down mythroat. I gulped instinctively to stop it going down the wrong hole andchoking me, and in the same moment realised from the grunts and moans ofecstasy of the man whose hands squashed my face against his belly, thatI was swallowing his sperm to avoid drowning in it. I had no choice; hisknob was rammed into the back of my mouth, almost making me gag and thejets of spunk were shooting straight down my throat. I hardly tasted it,just felt warm slimy liquid sliding down into my tummy.Meanwhile the man behind began to **** my bottom slowly, his hipssquashing my bumcheeks at the end of each inward stroke. For the first20 or 30 seconds each stroke continued the agony as my clenched bottomcontinued to try and force his cock-shaft out of me. But he was carefulto ensure that his knob always remained firmly planted in my bottom eachtime he withdrew. Slowly the pain subsided and in its place there beganto be flickers of the pleasurable feelings I had got in the bathroom somany times before. As I felt it I remembered how much less it hurt if Irelaxed and accepted the thing that was keeping my hole so unnaturallypermanently open. I forced myself to make the muscles in my tummy relax.Suddenly my body seemed to go limp. The only things preventing me fromslipping to the floor was were the hands round my waist. I felt a warmcomforting sensation spreading through my crotch and thought it was partof my body’s reaction to him fucking me. Then I realised something wastrickling down my front. For a wild second of panic I thought it wasblood. Then to my utter shame I realised I was wetting myself and mywarm pee was drenching my stockings. I hadn’t the strength left toclench my tummy again to stem the flow, and had no desire to feel thatawful pain return if I did.”Oooh!” said the man on my right, holding me up. “The filthy littleslut’s pissing herself! Go on, tart, drench your fucking skirt and legswith piss. Ooooh I love it when these nymphets’ vaginas lose control thefirst time they’re ****d and they piss themselves. I’m gonna cram yoursteaming piss- soaked panties in your mouth and make you suck ’em drywhen I fuck your cunt, you little whore!”The man r****g me quickened his thrusts as he heard the other one’sobscene intentions. I no longer cared so long as whatever they diddidn’t hurt like the first few seconds had. In fact I was now slowlybecoming more and more excited each time the cock-shaft filled my belly.Things I had said to my own reflection in the bathroom mirror began torun through my head. ‘…little fuck-slut…there to be fucked…cheekywhore’s bottom…spunk-cream down your throat…’ My bottom began totingle with delight at the sensation – the one I had craved: a man’scock moving inside me while I stood there passively and was fucked byit. The man who had just creamed into my mouth withdrew it from my faceand turned round. The one beside me holding me said to him:”Are you going to take a piss?””Yes.” was the reply.”Hold on a moment. This dirty cow just soaked her stockings with her ownpiss. Little tarts who wet themselves when they haven’t been ordered toby their Masters are naughty girls. They need to be punished…and thepunishment ought to fit the crime.””Cor…” said the fat man, looking back at the speaker. “You really likemessing them up good and proper, don’t you?””Why not? Look at the pretty little bitch: she’s a natural, isn’t she? -So she better start learning to do as she’s told. Look at that lovelymoppet-face of hers: don’t you want to?” A wave of utter shock sweptover me as I began to have an inkling what he was suggesting, but thethrills in my tummy were stronger than the revulsion at what I guessedhe was proposing.”Yeah…’course. You know I like doing it in ’em…but…I just thoughtmaybe it was too soon on her first session-“”No time like the present, eh?” said the man beside me. The big oneturned round again and the author of the idea said:”Listen Suki, you little cock-slut, you wet yourself when we tell youto, understand. Your punishment for disobedience is to swallow thisMaster’s piss. Every fucking drop, you hear?”I stared with horror at the fat man’s knob as he turned to face meagain. Even though I’d already half- guessed I was still stunned by thedisgustingness of what he wanted me to do. The cockshaft was only semi-erect now and the slit in the centre of the purple-coloured knob, stilloozing a pearly drip of sperm, pointed straight at my mouth.”Wait if you can.” said the man r****g my bottom. “I’m going to shootany minute now. Hold off till you can really make it spurt down herthroat.””O.K. I’ll tell you when I’m about to.”A voice from above my head made me start.”Cor!! What a gorgeous little slut! Oooh make ‘er suck you!””She’s just had my spunk. She’s going to get my piss to drink in asecond while he creams up her arsehole.””Ooooooh…ooh yeah!! Can I fuck her after you?””Yeah.” said the man at my side. “I’m next but she can be sucking you toget yours nice and stiff while I do her. Anyone else about out therewho’d fancy her? Tell ’em it’s her first session.” -“No k**ding!?””Genuine. She was a virgin when she came in here today. We’re trainingher as our cock-slave so the more guys who spunk in her today thebetter. We want her fucked into complete submission.””Too right! Just what that lovely little bum of hers needs!”It was clear now that my ****, which I thought would be over when thesethree men had finished with me, was only just beginning.”Get your mouth open, bitch. Any more disobedience and we’ll finish offthis session with a caning, remember. Now say you’re sorry for being anaughty girl and wetting yourself without our permission, then beg thisMaster to piss down your throat. Go on, whore, say it!” I felt weak-kneed with humiliation as I began to whisper what he’d told me to.”Louder, slave. So we can all hear you.””Pl-please Sirs…I’m very sorry for being a naughty…girl and wettingmyself without my Masters’ permission. Please, Master, piss down mythroat…”The cock was almost grazing my lips now.”It’s…I’m…almost ready…yeah…it’s coming…now. Oooh yeah!” A fewdrops fell from the slit onto my tongue. Then suddenly a golden torrentof it began to hit the roof of my mouth and the man instantly pressedthe tip of his knob between my lips. My bottom began to jerk as the cockinside me started to thrust frantically. Then as I gulped and gulped thewarm floods of piss down my throat I heard the man fucking me gasping:”Yes ooh yes oooh GOD I’m about to spunk in her 12 year old crack! OOOH!AAAAHHH! UGH! UGH! UGH! AAAAAAAAH!!!” His cock was plunged as deep as itwould go in my belly and each spasm at the base of his cock-shafttransmitted waves of delicious sensation to the tender sensitised nervesin the part of me that gaped round it.I felt as if the rest of my body had disappeared and all I consisted ofwas my swallowing throat and the tunnel between my legs. I was just athin quivering membrane of tingling skin wrapped round their two cocksand in the centre of me was a boiling cocktail of my Masters’ spunk-cream and piss. At that moment I knew I truly did belong to them.Everything in my body was theirs after all! Everything from my madly-gulping pee-drenched gaping lips to the fluttering ring of flesh betweenmy legs was filled with their flesh and what spurted from it. I wastheir slave! Suki Sexmaid, body and soul!At some moments I thought that this must simply be a bizarre perverteddream that I would wake from with a jolt. The place – and what was beingdone to my body – just seemed too unreal to be true. Yet I knew that thesour taste of the liquid that gushed down my throat was real enough, aswas the unstoppable flow of sperm into my bottom.Could such men exist: men who could take such keen pleasure from r****ga teenage boy whilst pretending, as I loved doing myself, that she wasactually a girl – and a 12-year-old at that? I had dreamed andfantasised so often that men like these existed – and would do what theywere doing to me, yet I always secretly suspected that they lived onlyin my imagination and that when it came to it, in real life, they woulddisappoint me by being soft, giving in to pity and letting me go if Iasked them to.Even though I knew in my soul that that was the last thing I actuallywanted.To discover that men existed whose lusts were as strong as my weakness,stronger even than my craving to be made to satisfy them was shockinglyexciting. I dared not let my mind picture the whims, kinks andperversions they would force me to submit to until they made me adorethem. The thrill I had pursued for two years had finally crystallisedinto this moment: nothing else existed but this place and these men. Nodesire of my own was permitted to me, no will but their will. My wholeexistence was reduced to this sense of my own helpless enslavement tothese men. They had made time stop by filling the hollow space I hadalways felt inside me.I didn’t care who they were, nor what they looked like. After all, thevictim doesn’t choose her r****t! She must just submit – and havingsubmitted once, her soiled and humiliated body can be made to submitagain, and again, and again – more easily each time as her burning wallof shame is made to crumble, washed away by each new stranger’s jet ofpiss and spunk, her outrage dulling until all she is conscious of is thephysical sensations in her raw frenzied nerve-ends, continuallystimulated to unbearable shameful ecstasy by repeated ****.”…all of it; I want her belly as tight as a drum when I fuck her sothe little bitch pisses herself helplessly all over my balls when I rammy cock up her!” The man’s words floated down to my ears, and as I madesense of them my body sang with pleasure like a taut violin-string beingplucked. Yes! Yes please Sir! Make me do it! Make me jerk and squirm onyour ramrod-hard cock like a rag-doll! Make me wet myself!! The wordsfilled my head with a constant chant.Suddenly there was a single small sharp pain in the entrance to mybottom and then an empty feeling. My bottom was sore but I didn’t mind:I knew it should be and I had not the slightest right to complain. Ihadn’t been able to keep up with the fountain-flood of piss from theknob in my mouth and quite a lot had flowed over my chin and down myshiny pink lycraLycra top till it was as drenched as my skirt. Steamrose from my body and I knew that I had been naughty again.”I’m sorry please Sir I’m sorry I couldn’t swallow it it was too fast Iknow I’m a dirty little slut please don’t cane me Sir please don’t caneme-“”Shut your face, bitch!” said the man at my side, cutting off mybabbling apology. He let go of my waist and I heard the door beingopened behind me. I could sense there were several more men gazingthrough the doorway at me.”Wiggle your arse for these men, whore. Show ’em your spunky littlehole’s begging for more cocks.”I moved my hips from side to side. The fat man slid passed me and Iheard him say:”I’m off now. How about Sunday afternoon?””Yeah. Definitely. We’ll have a real fucking orgy!””Great. See you then.””What a cute bum it’s got on it. And those legs! I haven’t seen a sexierundie-slave that this one. She really does look like a schoolgirl…””…Come on, Suki, let’s see that cunt really beg for it…”I felt the buckle of the belt round my ankles being undone. My ankleswere released and then hands pulled my sopping panties down my calves.”Lift your left foot, slut. Now your right.” I stepped out of the knicksand was grateful that it was now easier at least to keep my balance. Twomen came pastsed me on either side and stood each side of the toiletbowl in front of me. The one on the left was the man who had held mewhile the first man ****d me. In his hand were my red panties.”Open your mouth, whore.” He stuffed the ball of wet nylon firmly intomy mouth, then he walked out again and said”Now wriggle that naked bum around just like a girl dancing at adisco.” I started to move my hips again, though even with my feet free Istill found it difficult bent over and with my hands still firmlysecured behind my back.”I’ll give her a sniff of this. That’ll get her going.” said the man whohad remained in front of me. His hand appeared below my face and hisfingers clutched a little brown glass bottle. I could smell a strangesickly-sweet smell from the clear colourless liquid inside it and wasutterly terrified. I hadn’t the faintest idea what it was, but it wasobviously some kind of d**g – a sex-d**g – and I was petrified of whatthey would do to me while I was under its influence. Perhaps it wouldmake me pass out, or even worse: perhaps it would make me too drowsy andweak to resist them while leaving me fully conscious of everything theydid. My panic-stricken imagination leapt with dizzying speed through theawful kinky possibilities of what they might do to me.The man grabbed me by the hair with his left hand and then brought theneck of the bottle up against one of my nostrils. With his thumb hepressed the other one shut. I tried not to breathe, but with my ownsodden panties still stuffed firmly in my mouth and my heart thumpingwith fright, I soon had no choice but to inhale the fumes. At firstnothing happened. Then I felt my heart begin to race. Warmth suffused mybody. Then suddenly without warning tingling waves of heat swept throughevery nerve in my body. And from nowhere I was suddenly on the verge oforgasm. B, but not the localised little thrill from my willy whenever Ishot the few little drops of clear liquid that were still all I couldproduce.It seemed to have nothing to do with my willy or balls in fact. It waslike the sensation I had had that day in the bathroom when I came on thebroom handle as I squirted face-cream over my legs and panties. Butstill as different from that as a racing car from a push-bikepushbike.Suddenly I knew what it was like: the orgasms that I had read about insex-manuals that women have. The d**g made me feel like a girl! A girlbrought to the very edge of sexual climax. As wave after crackling wavespread through me it was as if every nerve in my body was in the softwalls of my vagina, making the surface of the skin ripple with hungerand excitement. I felt like the randiest, most shameless nympho slut inthe whole world! I was aching for it, dying for it!My naked bum began to wiggle as lewdly as I knew how. With my knees bentI sent it squirming in up-and-down circles. I wanted that tight littlering of flesh between my bumcheeks to look like the most provocative andirresistible fuck-slit they’d ever seen. My body was empty – and Icouldn’t bear it! Unbidden, I began to take little paces backwards as Idanced to bring my bare white bottom closer to the watching men. My hipswere past the doorway of my cubicle.”Yeah, that’s it bitch!” said a voice. “Come on, get right out here andbeg for it, you slut!” I needed little encouragement. The belt round mywrists heightened the sensation. I was nothing but a cunt – a softhelpless cunt, with a pair of shiny red lips that could suck at one endand a circle of tight tender flesh at the other that could cling andsqueeze like a pre-pubescent girl’s seam. I kept backing through thedoor with my bottom still doing its wiggling dance of invitation totheir cocks. There were 6 of them round me and every one had his cockout of his trousers. I bent to one at random and rubbed my face againstthe knob. I swung my hips round until I felt another touch my bottom. Imoaned and rubbed my arse-slit hungrily up and down on his erection.I was oblivious to all danger; I didn’t care if someone else came innow. They would see me and know what I was there for. I was conscious ofnothing except my burning desire to be impaled upon the thing I feltagainst my squirming bottom. Slowly – far too quickly for me; I wantedthat feeling to go on and on forever! – the sensations caused by thed**g began to recede. But before they disappeared altogether I turned tolook at the man standing in the cubicle doorway still holding thebottle. The Master who had ordered me to drink piss said:”Give her another snort. Someone keep an eye so we can take turns tofuck her.” The man with the magic bottle came and held it under my noseagain. I began to sniff it straight away this time. He held it there fortwice as long, under each nostril in turn as his thumb kept the othershut.”Take the pantie-gag out of her mouth.” The feeling began to well upinside me again. I was a girl! A girl with her skirt up, no panties onand her hungry little body aching to be penetrated by any cock thatwanted it. And there was something more, something else at the verycentre of that hunger.A few short minutes before I had been frightened of what the d**g mightallow them to do to me. I was half-right: I thought that it would makeme physically helpless. Now I knew – and was thrilled by the feeling -that it was far more subtle: it made me want them to do the dirtiestthings they could dream up. I wanted all of them to fuck me withoutmercy in the dirtiest possible ways. I wanted them to use my bodywithout limits to explore and satisfy their kinkiest fantasies. I wantedthem to know that there was no sex thrill, no matter how bizarre,obscene or humiliating, that they could not enjoy. I was their sexmaid,their spunkslut, their cockslave!!I began to whisper rapidly:”Please fuck me, Masters. I’m your property, please do anything you likewith me. I’m a naughty dirty girl, please won’t you fill Suki’s sweetlittle bot and mouth with your lovely hot spunk, Oh! Oh! Please Sirsanything you like! I’m here to obey you and please you. Do somethingdirty to me, please Mast- OH! UHH!!”In a single thrust someone’s cock tore my bottom open and sank deepinside me. Men crowded round my face and a knob slid into my mouth. Iwas in Heaven!! Their alternating thrusts in either end of me set up arhythm that made me sway back and forth on my heels, tossing me from thehot shaft of meat ramming into my mouth onto the other and driving thatdeep in my belly, which then slammed my face back onto the first again.”Piss yourself, bitch! Go on. In front of all your Masters. Show themall what a dirty kinky slut you are, whore!!” said the man fucking mybottom. The bottle was pushed under my nose a third time and I inhaledthe fumes eagerly and deeply. My body was in a feverish stew of ecstaticthrilled delight and my brain was a whirling screaming jumble of voices- all of them mine – ‘Fuck me!! Fill me with spunk till it pours fromevery hole in my body!! Oh God don’t stop, never stop!! Do somethingelse to me! Something dirtier! Anything!! ANYTHING YOU WANT!!! Within afew seconds sperm was fizzling down my throat again and pee was runningdown my legs. I felt the man’s hand reach round my waist and push mywilly backwards till its tip was against his balls and my pee drenchedthem as well. The warm wetness spurting from my helpless belly over hissex excited him to his ejaculation. His thrusts became a series of rapidjerks with his cock buried in me. I heard his whispered grunts ofsatisfaction as the stiff flesh within mine throbbed with each spurt:”Oooh YES!! TAKE IT BITCH!! I’M SPUNKING RIGHT UP YOUR CUNT, YOU LITTLEWHORE, RIGHT! UP! YOUR! TIGHT! LITTLE! QUIMSLIT! YOU SLUT!!!”My mouth became free again and was taken prisoner at once by anotherman. Then my head was pulled off him to suck a second. I could tastetraces of the man’s pee on his knob and was thrilled to the core by it.My bottom closed with instinctive relief as the cock withdrew. Out ofthe corner of my eye I saw someone with an enormous-looking cock goinground behind me. I trembled and tried to relax but although by now myhole was very slippery and soft, I felt twin spasms of my first agoniesreturning as my bottom was violently forced open for its third r****g inless than 20 minutes.The two men in front of me wanted my lips to alternate between them so Idid, now sucking one, now the other, each for 15 or 20 seconds. The onewho wasn’t in my mouth would wank himself furiously until it was hisX6 ™ÀW”ddenly the man to the left of my face, whose cock was inhis hand at the time, hissed:”Quick, let me have her; I’m going to come.” i”Oooh yeah! Me too, shove yours in as well!” He pulled back until justthe tip of his knob was between my gaping lips. The other stood close tohim until their cock-knobs were touching. Then they roughly pulled myface down and forced both knobs into my mouth simultaneously. Both werepanting hard and I felt a jet of spunk leap straight into the back of mymouth from one of them and begin trickling down my throat. He gasped:”I’m – coming!” And instantly both knobs began to pour the men’s slimysperm-juice into my mouth until I had to swallow some to make room forthe jets that followed it. I didn’t want to swallow it all straightaway; I wanted to keep it there and experience the dirty thrill offeeling my cheeks bulging with my Masters’ spunk. It was very warm, witha strong salty taste unlike anything I’d ever tasted before, and seemedto fizz on my tongue like sherbet. And the slimy slippery creaminess ofit seemed exactly what I’d deserved, what the ‘teasing slut’ had beenasking for in fact: the dirtiest, most disgusting way they could soil mymouth.I wanted to show them all how utterly I was theirs, how eager for moreand filthier games, what a thoroughly obedient slave I was. As the knobsslid out of my face I closed my lips to let the sperm fill the spacetheir cocks had occupied. I gazed up at the men round me and opened mymouth. Spunk immediately streamed from my lips, running quickly down mychin and neck.Someone stood in front of me, turned round and bent forwards. His hairywhite bumcheeks parted until I was staring straight at the brown ring offlesh, the size of a 10-pence piece, of his anus.”Get some of that spunk on my hole and then lick it all off! I want tofeel that 12-year-old schoolgirl tongue right up my arse and licking theinside of it clean, tart!” I could see the brown mark in the crotch ofhis pants, a few inches below my face, could smell the dirty unwashedstate of his body and the vile odour from the fluted skin of his hole.The d**g had almost worn off completely by now and although I was stillexcited by the cock in my belly I was revolted by the thing so close tomy lips. My face shrank in horror at my order.”No more Amyl yet.” said a voice. “Make her do it. It’s time this slavelearnt she’s here for our fun, not her own hungry little bitch-cuntthrills.”Someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head back until my lips wereforced to part and my mouth was directly level with the folds of brownskin. Then suddenly the man fucking me thrust himself into me hard,forcing my body to sway forwards and burying my face in between thecurves of the parted buttocks.”That’s it, baby! Let’s feel the spunk ooze out of your face onto myhole!” I pushed the slime out of my face with my tongue, which instantlyrecoiled with revulsion as the tip touched his skin. “OOOOH YESSS! OOOHthat’s lovely!! Go on, slave, work it all round my hole with yourtongue. Get some up it, girl!” I paused, frozen with horror. A hand slidround my waist and I felt the fingers close round my balls and willy,squeezing hard till I moaned with pain.”Get on with it this instant, you disobedient little bitch, or I’ll tearthis useless fucking thing off and really make you into a schoolgirl!!”I put my tongue out and began to lick the slimy sperm back and forthover the man’s anus. He bent over more and said:”Yeah! Now work it up inside with your tongue.” I began to push mytongue-tip between the folds of skin, all the time becoming more andmore aware of the second filthy taste mingling with the taste of spermin my mouth.”Yeah! Go on! Keep doing it! Deeper, bitch, deeper!!” My tongue was nowin the entrance of his passage and I could feel his muscles clenchingand unclenching, and hear him moaning softly with delight.”Oooooooh! Oh yeah!! Oh that’s fucking great. Her tongue’s right in myarse now! Oooooh, how d’you like the taste of it, eh moppet? A lovelyspunk-and-shit milkshake! Now start licking it off slowly and swallowingit. And each time you swallow it just remember your mouth and bottom areidentical. They’re just fuckslits, bitch. They both belong to us and wecan do anything we fucking well like with them any time we want! Get onwith your orders, dirty little whore!”I thought I would surely die of shame and nausea then as my throatgulped down the slimy mess that was already in my mouth. I felt mystomach heave and thought I was about to be sick but somehow I managedto close my mind to what it was sliding down my neck and the feelingpassed. I licked some more into my mouth and swallowed that.”Not so quick, bitch. I want to feel you savouring the taste of it whilethat cock up your fanny gets ready to shoot some more juice up yourspunk-filled slit! This is what we use undie-slaves for – that’s whatyou are from now on and don’t you ever dare to forget it, Suki. Get agood mouthful and don’t swallow it.”I licked several times until I felt my tongue was swimming in it.”Now, give her another sniff.” The man stood up and I panted with reliefat being able to breathe properly once more. The bottle was put to mynose and this time it was held there until the tingling swarms ofexcitement were crawling all over my body again. The man was facing menow.”Swear on your cock-filled cunt and your spunk-and-shit filled mouththat you are our property. And then open your mouth and let it slipslowly down your throat. We want to see you taste every drop of it as itgoes down.”I suddenly found that the thought of swallowing the filthy slime in mymouth was exciting me, because it was what the man wanted me to do. Eventhe nastiness of the taste seemed to excite me, because it was the tasteof my humiliation and my submission to him. It wasn’t enough just torepeat a mantra that my holes belonged to them. He wanted me toexperience the truth of the words through one of my most acute senses,that of taste. I let the sharp rancid juice swirl onto the back of mytongue and my brain was dizzy with thrills of ecstatic surrender.I said the words and then swallowed slowly as he’d told me to.”Now promise on your worthless life, bitch, that as our undie-slave youwill come here and serve your Masters whenever you are told to. That’llbe at least twice a week from now on. We found your address in thepocket of your jacket so we all know where you live, tart. If you don’tdo as you’re told maybe your parents will get a nice long letter withthose filthy panties in it, telling them where their randy little’daughter’ likes to go and how many men’s spunk she has in her bellywhen she comes home again. And swear that when you are here you’ll obeyYour Masters’ whims in every way or face whatever punishments we choose.Swear it, slut!”The d**g made my eyes stare crazily round the ring of cocks and trouser-legs round me as my hips began to grind themselves against the hips ofthe man behind me. I felt like I was suspended off the ground, my armsand legs tied, with nothing supporting my body but a pole going into mybottom. I swore the oath eagerly, panting for breath. I just wanted toexcite them with hearing me say the words, and yet a small sane part ofmy brain knew that they were deadly serious and that I couldn’t retractmy promise later.At that moment I didn’t want to; I meant what I promised them. Yet Iknew that perhaps tomorrow I would regret it, but they had made it veryclear to me that it was too late already. They were prepared to extractmysubmission to my initial **** that day.”Now beg to lick my arse completely clean.””Please let me lick your bottom clean, Master.” He turned and once againhis glistening wet bottom thrust out and pressed against my face. Ibegan to lick, and this time as the d**g slowly wore off, I found that Istill wanted the awful flavour of that cream in my mouth to remind me ofmy humiliation and servitude. I felt yet more sperm pumping into mytummy from behind and then the gut-churning pain as he jerked his cockfrom my body. Someone else took his place, but their cock was so muchsmaller by contrast that I hardly felt a thing as he entered me. Isqueezed him with the muscles in my anal ring so that he wouldn’t bedisappointed with me. Soon I had licked the last traces of spunk off theother man’s bottom and not long after that could only taste my ownsaliva again. The man straightened up again, turned round and began towank his cock an inch or two from my mouth. I stared at the swollenpurple knob jiggling before my eyes and thought:’This is my Master; this plum, so hot and full of juice waiting to spurtfrom it, is what my body was born to serve. Anything they do to me thatmakes this thing ripen and swell even more, that increases theirexcitement and makes even more of their wonderful juice spill from it,is their right.’ At that moment I had no trouble believing that my bodyhad been created to belong to this thing, looming so obscenely largebefore my face. Whether I knew it consciously or not at 15, every ounceof my body knew that, for me, sex and enslavement were one and the samething, with no area of one that was not part of the other.My own sexual urges were intended to help enslave me; my enslavement wasintended to make me the property of these men. As their property even myown sexual feelings belonged to them, and were permissible only if theyserved to satisfy my Masters’ whims and pleasure. I knew that all theendless hours of solitary thrills I had experienced in the previous 3 4years were at an end. No more seeing myself in the bathroom mirror as agirl, impaled on a broom-handle; from now on, whenever I was dressed asa girl it must be for my Masters’ pleasure. It would be for them todecide who and what would impale me and how many times.I guessed what the man intended and kept my lips parted in obedientanticipation. He wanted me to see his sperm leaping from his cock intomy mouth, not just feel it. He wanted me to see it and understand evenmore clearly my status as their slave, existing purely as orifices fortheir spunk. The more I stared at the knob of flesh before my face themore excited I became. Knowing that this man was enjoying his power overme thrilled me. It was the only satisfaction I sought: to be and dowhatever was required of me to increase their pleasure. Simply to knowthat my body was pretty enough in their eyes to cause this magical partof them – so huge and unlike my own little willy as to seem like adifferent sex altogether! – to swell, stiffen and then explode withcream at the moment of their climaxes was satisfaction enough.A stream of white juice leapt from his knob in an arc straight into myopen mouth. Another followed and then he pressed the bubbling flesh tomy lips so that none fell wasted to the floor. I tasted the warm cleandelicious milk once more and trembled with sluttish thrills of delight.One more man wanted my mouth after that. While I sucked him I felt theother cock climax and ejaculate into my body. The last cock eruptedcream into my mouth whichmouth, which I greedily swallowed, and then Islumped to the floor. How many men had released their lust and senttheir semen rushing into me? Seven? Eight? I was no longer sure. Assperm oozed out of my bottom onto the cold tiles beneath me, I knew Ihad no more excuse for solitary games or pleasures; my Masters hadtransformed me from a virgin into a whore. My hour-long ordeal of gang-****gang **** had done exactly what they had intended it to do: fuckedme into submission and forced me to recognise that I had the soul of aborn slut.I remembered my earlier display of cock-hungry nymphomania; I had noright to refuse any man’s lust now. I had put myself where I might beused and then had begged them all to use me indiscriminately. If I hadbeen trapped at the start it was because I had walked into the trap awilling victim.The ‘Piss-Master’, who had stayed throughout, said:”Your clothes are in there, slut.” pointing to one of the cubicles.”What time are you free to serve on Sunday?”We didn’t usually have a big Sunday lunch, just an ordinary meal around1 and something light in the evening. I knew my parents wouldn’t thinkit odd if I said I was going to spend the afternoon and evening with afriend.”Any time from 2 in the afternoon, please Sir.””Be in here dressed and ready for your next training session at 2.30then, slave. If you are late you’ll be punished. And if you fail to turnup for any reason you’ll be in big trouble. Perhaps your parents willhave to be told what a disobedient undie-slave you are…””I – I promise I’ll be there, Sir. Just please don’t tell my parents.”That night I woke with a start and found my sheets wet under me. Atfirst I thought I had wet the bed, then I realised that the wetness Ifelt was slimy and oozy. It was spunk from my bottom. I fell asleepagain still gently rolling around in the comforting warmth of it.Chapter 2Surreptitiously washing out my things in the next few days felt strange,knowing what had made the stains I rubbed out of the clothes, andknowing that I was cleaning them only so they could be soiled bystrangers again on Sunday. I just prayed that my mother and sisterwouldn’t notice the things that had disappeared.Sunday finally came and with butterflies in my stomach I told my parentsI planned to see a school friend and that we might go to a film thatevening. Then I walked down to the high street and the toilets. Therewere already 4 men at the urinals when I entered and 4 of the 5 cubicleswere engaged. I went into the empty one and changed. I was ready by 2.20and then sat there nervously, my hands folded on my lap in a demuresimulation of shy virginal innocence.At 2.30 exactly a note came under the wall instructing me to slide myother clothes under the wall and then unlock my door. It began.I was told to stand still as my wrists were bound. Straps were fastenedon my ankles connected by a length of chain a few inches long. Then ablack rubber hood was pulled over my head. It had two small holes for mynostrils and a larger one for my mouth. When my bondage was complete Ifelt thrills of nervous terror at my utter helplessness in the clammypitch-black rubber hood. I was ordered to open my mouth and felt a hardrubber gag covered in nylon pushed into my cheeks and fastened behind myhead. On the nylon I could taste the sharp mingled flavours of malesperm and a woman’s vagina-juice.I was told to bend over and hands gripped my head to hold me there. ThenI felt the cold breeze on my bare thighs above my stockings as my skirtwas lifted and laid over my back. Then my panties were slipped down tothe tops of my thighs. Suddenly I heard a rapid ‘swish’ and a gaspescaped from my gagged mouth as a blazing slash of pain spread across mybot. I could hear the soft murmurs of men making appreciative commentsabout the marks on my bumcheeks.”…beautiful!””…sexy arse…””…better than a cane…too hard…””…daughter’s riding-crop…give her a taste of it one day…betterarse than hers…””…bright red! Give her some more…”Swish-WHOP!! My whole body rippled in agony and I moaned involuntarily.Someone directly above my head spoke:”Not so hard. You’ll have her screaming blue murder. Warm her up slowly.Then when you’ve got her arse-cheeks really red you’ll find she can takemuch more.”My whipping continued with a string of lighter strokes, all of whichstung, but none badly enough to make me howl with pain again. The men’sremarks made it clear that the redder my bottom was being made the morethey liked it. After a few minutes something strange seemed to happen tome. The strokes didn’t seem to hurt any more. Instead it was more likethey were my bottom a series of small electric shocks that made my skintingle. I pushed my hips out, eager for more.”She’s ready. You can steam her arse up a bit now. But still don’t gettoo wild. It’s a fine line…you’ve got to judge her right. She’s stilla novice remember.”The strokes landed harder now, but even so each sting sent a littleshiver of pleasure through me.”Take the gag out now. I reckon she’s ready to suck someone while youwhip her. Who wants to try it.” Several voices spoke, and I felt athrill at knowing how many men there wanted to try this sex-game withtheir slave. Someone was elected and I felt the gag being undone.”If your Master feels your teeth, bitch, then you’ll feel that whip -and I mean really feel it, understand?””Yes Master.”A cock went into my face and the whip began to land again. My bottom wasburning by now, but it was an exciting tingling heat that made me feelrandy and hungry for cocks. Each time I felt the sting my lips clampedonto the stiff shaft in my mouth for relief, but I was careful to keepmy teeth well away from the flesh. I heard a voice behind:”Ooh quick, stop a second. I want to come over her arse.” And I feltwarmth splashing onto my hole and trickling down the insides of mythighs. I trembled with glee, knowing what it was. A few strokes laterthe same warmth filled my mouth.That day they kept me hooded all afternoon. I was made to ‘parade’ roundthe toilets. At one point I was ordered to kneel and then press my lipsto a wall. The smooth coolness of it told me that they were making melick the porcelain urinal. My mouth was directed to splashes of sperm onit whichit, which I had to lick off and swallow. And all day mencasually thrust their cocks into either end of me. I soon lost count ofthe number, but I could tell from the remarks of new arrivals that theyexpected to find me there. It was a preplanned orgy, with myself as thehelpless fuck-slut.At no time did anyone refer to me by any name other than ‘bitch’,’slut’, ‘whore’ or ‘slave-‘. No-oneNo one concerned themselves with theslightest scruple of consideration when they penetrated me. Some thrustinto me quickly and brutally, others slowly and less painfully, but onlyto please themselves because they preferred to do it that way, notbecause it might hurt me.After some time my stockings were soaked and my thighs felt slimywhenever I was told to move to a different position. I could tell myrelaxed gaping bottom was swimming in sperm.I was given sniffs from the Amyl bottle at regular intervals andrepeatedly made to swear that I was a slave and would obey any and allmy orders. They told me that I now belonged to all the men who regularlycame to those toilets and as such could be lent to other Masters bythem. They said that from time to time I would be taken to other toiletsfor that purpose and must serve anyone I was ordered to.I was in a continual state of nervous excitement all afternoon as I wasordered around and fucked by a stream of anonymous cocks. Bound andhooded, I was constantly aware of my own helplessness and vulnerability.Yet I was never really scared until near the end, when I heard someonearriving and talking to the man who had ****d me the very first time andthe Piss-Master.”She’s perfect…every bit as sexy as you said and then some. And thisis really only her second session?””Yeah, we ****d her the first time last week. She took to it like a duckto water.””But you didn’t…ah…introduce her to…”” Just some arse-licking; that’s all.””Good…umm…how far can I go with her?””How far would you like to…? We’re training her up as a ‘no limits’cock-slave… so the sooner she starts to learn what that means thebetter as far as we’re concerned. Don’t worry: she won’t make a fuss.” Iheard the Piss-Master chuckle.”Hahaha…the little bitch knows she’s in no position to. We know whereher parents live – and we’ve got a lovely little stack of Polaroids fromthis afternoon. I expect we’ll have some even dirtier ones … hahaha… when you’ve finished having your fun. She wouldn’t like a few ofthose turning up at home addressed to her Mum and Dad.”My heart sank like a stone. I had been aware of flashes of lightthrough the hood during the afternoon’s orgy, but I had hardly noticedit, thinking it was a faulty light bulb. “We want the little whoretrained up quick. I want to take her up to Freddie’s place next week…””What, to try her in the hot-box? Already?””Yeah, why not? She really looks like a moppet with her hood off…11 or12 at the most. The guys at his place will flip when they see her. Iwant this slut like a cat in heat for anything they feel like.””…I see…””We thought you’d like the fact that she’s a novice.””Oh yes, that’s very appealing… a virgin…”I wondered what he meant; I didn’t feel like a virgin any more by anydefinition.”But don’t let that cramp your style. It’s up to you. Just remembershe’s a slave: she’s here to learn to do as she’s told. And from whatwe’ve already seen of her we reckon she’s a natural for kinky fun. She’sone of those horny little tarts who get off on the shock of it.””How old is she really?””13.” I heard the man’s lie and knew he was egging on the new arrival.”Mmmm! Delicious…just barely pubescent…””Too right! Yet look at her!””…God, these little bitches can be such randy cock-sluts, can’tthey?” I could hear the perverted thrill in his voice.”Absolutely…especially if you put ’em in a pair of tight rubberpanties…”Their conversation filled me with nervousness.Thenervousness. The voiceI recognised as that of the Piss-Master made me say for the hundredthtime that afternoon that I was Suki Sex-slave and was my Masters’property. Then he said: “And you are going to learn that there is nokind of kinky fun your Masters can’t have with you. Remember that,bitch. Anything we want to do with you you will learn to beg for. Yourreal function as an undie-slave is to provide your Masters with kinkysex-thrills…hot dirty fun of any kind they choose…and no fuckingmoans or disobedience. Say it; say ‘I’m a dirty slut and I exist for myMasters hottest dirtiest kinkiest sex-fun.’ Say it.”I repeated the words, stammering with fear now.”Do whatever this Master tells you to, understand? Everything. She’s allyours; go to it.”My panties were lowered to my ankles and the chain connecting them wasunclipped. I was ordered to step out of them. Then I was told to lift myfeet again and I felt cool stretchy rubber being slid up my legs. Then Ihad to step again and felt my own red lace panties going on again. Therubber knicks were hauled up in place round my hips, then just the backof them lowered again. I was led into one of the cubicles and turnedround so I was facing the door. Then a rubber gag was pushed into mymouth. I could feel a hole in the middle of the gag.”Bend over, bitch!” said the latest arrival. I felt his cock press intomy bottom. He didn’t start fucking me like the previous men had done;instead he just waited like that with his knob in my belly. Then I felta strange sensation in my tummy. It was as if he was coming and cominginto me, spurt after spurt until it was a continuous flood. Then Irealised he was filling my bottom with pee! The feeling in my tummy waselectrifying.After 15 or 20 seconds I began to feel very full there and knew thatvery soon I would have to go to the toilet to relieve the pressure.Suddenly he pulled quickly out of me and tugged the rubber panties backin place. Something was placed loosely over my head onto my shoulders.His fingers began stroking my bottom and crotch through the rubber pantsand he began to speak very softly into my ear through the hood.”I expect you want to go to the toilet now, don’t you, you cock-hungrybitch. Now that your cunt’s full of your Masters’ spunk and piss youwant to let it all go to waste down a toilet-bowl, don’t you?”I was beginning to feel sweaty and slippery inside the hood and thepanties from the pressure in my tummy. His hands were exciting me aswell though. The rubber was like a second skin over my bum and crotchand seemed to heighten the sensation from the touch of his fingers.”Little girls who let men take their panties down, spread their legs andlet them fill their smooth little vagina-slits with cream are very bad.A moppet who lets grown men push their knobs up her naughty littlebottom and spunk into it deserves to be punished, doesn’t she Suki? Andthe worst of all are dirty little babies who then soil their pantiesafterwards….squat down on your heels, girl. Let’s see if you’re a goodgirl or a bad one.”I started to bend my knees, knowing that I couldn’t hold on much longer.His hand stayed underneath my bottom as I began to lower myself.Suddenly I felt the mixture of piss and spunk come gushing from my holeinto the knicks. He thrust me down until I was squatting on my heels andthe flow into the panties kept coming until they were bulging out allround my belly and between my legs. But none of it leaked out. Worst ofall, I could feel that it wasn’t only what they had put inside me thathad come out. Squatting like that, with my feet apart I had been quiteunable to control my bottom at all.”Oooh you dirty little moppet-bitch! Oooh you stinking little whore…”His voice crooned with soft menace into my ear. “…with your pantiesfull of men’s piss and spunk…and the dirty filth from your ownbottom…feel that, baby-slut, your tender little pink slit all messedup and covered in your own dirty shit…what a wicked whore you are,Suki Shit-panties…dirty little girls who can’t keep their legs closedfor men or their bottoms closed until they can go to the toilet properlyought to be made to clean up their own mess…”Feeling the warm squishy mess trapped inside my panties I felt his wordspierce my brain with their truth and I was terrified of his contempt-filled batman escort voice. I felt his hand slide under my chin and lift my hoodedface. The Amyl bottle was pressed to my nose and I breathed it in withgrateful relief. I wanted to re-capture some feeling of pleasure in themidst of my awful predicament.What could I do about the mess I’d made? What would they make me do? Thethought of them standing there watching me somehow clean the knickersout before their eyes was too awful to contemplate. My legs would besoaked in filth before I could do a thing. As the fumes took hold of meagain, his hand continued to squeeze the rubber between my legs, slowlyturning what was inside into a thick soupy goo.I felt my excitement mounting; it was true: I was a dirty wicked girlwho couldn’t control herself. Already I was beginning to love that dirtyfeeling between my legs – even though I knew what it was! And knew Ideserved to be punished for it. Pee began to spurt from my willy and,unable to prevent it, I felt more filthy mess pour from my bottom. Ashot tingling spasms of ecstasy ran through my body once more the manspoke again – and made my head spin:”You love sucking men’s knobs till they spunk down your throat, don’tyou, you randy little cock-slut! Suck the knob in your mouth and you’llget your Rubber Master’s lovely hot spunk-cream down your throat. Quick,bitch, suck it! Suck it hard, girl.”I was in a frenzy of excitement; the amyl bottle was still at my nose.I hardly kKnew any longer where I was or what I was doing. I sucked onthe rubber ball-gag and after a few seconds I suddenly felt my mouthfill up with thick slimy liquid. The shocking taste confirmed what I’dalready begun to guess: the rubber knickers I wore were connected by atube to the gag in my mouth! My cheeks bulged with it. I was dizzy withnausea and excitement, thrilled at my absolute helplessness, sickened atwhere it had led me. Suddenly something jerked tight round my neck. Inthe blackness of my slave hood, dressed like a whore and with my handstied behind my back I knew I was lost: I was at their mercy – and theyhad none!”Swallow it, dirty bitch! Quick now, start swallowing it or I’llstrangle you with this right now! Yes!!! Keep sucking and swallowing!Clean up the mess in your panties, little girl…Sstart sucking it outof them! This this instant, you dirty little slut!. Suck your filthypanties dry again, you filthy WHORE!!”I forced the gooey filth down my throat without thinking, keptswallowing, even though I knew that the unbearably filthy taste on mytongue wasn’t spunk, or even piss. I couldn’t believe what he was makingme do – yet I was doing it! Even doing it eagerly to please him. I feltmy panties contracting each time I sucked on the gag and more of thethick soupy filth flowed up the tube from my knickers and poured fromthe hole in the gag.I thought I must surely die of shame any second now. But a voice keptsaying ‘Drink it, you dirty whore, keep swallowing every last bit of it!You begged your Masters to spunk in your bottom until it was full ofthat hot mixture of their spunk and piss and your own shit; you deserveto have it fill your mouth and be made to swallow it until your slut’sbody is full of it!’…And the voice was my own inside my head.”…What did I tell you? The dirty bitch loves it!…””That’s it, baby…down your throat…hurry up and drink your soup andyou can have the rest of your supper.””Oh wow!! Are you gonna…?””Oh god yes!! You’re really sure she’s a virgin?””No question. Last week was the first time she was even fucked.””Perfect. She was born for this. I’ve never ****d a virgin before. Thatmakes her extra special. Ooh god, I’m going to love every moment ofthis. Make sure you get plenty of pictures.”I felt my rubber knickers clinging tight to my body, and though I knewthey must be in an incredibly filthy state inside, I had sucked all theliquid out of them. The gag was undone. Then the hood was pulled off myhead.”Oooh what a little angel-face she is!” I gulped lungfuls of fresh airand gazed up at a strange frightening figure. He was wearing a rubberhood that showed his eyes glittering wickedly through slits in it and ashiny black ankle-length rubber coat, open at the front. Under it he waswearing a rubber vest, pants, suspender-beltsuspender belt andstockings. One hand was holding a leather harness and the other slowlystroked the shiny bulge of an enormous erection pushing through hispants.”Did you like your soup, little girl?” I nodded my head, knowing thatwas what he wanted and frightened to displease him in any way. He walkedforward until he was standing astride me and my face was a few inchesfrom the huge bulge. “Here, take a couple of her now, why don’t you?”The Piss-Master appeared by his side holding a camera. The Rubber-cladfigure went on:”Would you like something nice and thick like this in your mouth now,tart?” I stared at the bulge and nodded again. “Lick it, baby…go on,put your tongue out and lick it.” I did so and the flash went off as theother man took several picture of my face licking the rubber. The RubberMaster spoke again:”You’d love it, wouldn’t you…something hot and thick in yourmouth…This keeps a slave’s mouth open and ready at all times.” I waslicking frantically till the front of his pants was all wet.”This discipline harness will train you to keep your mouth open at alltimes when you are serving your Masters. You’d like that, wouldn’t yougirl?” I nodded eagerly again. “You’d probably like something to takethe taste of your Masters’ spunk-piss soup away, wouldn’t you? A nicepiece of chocolate perhaps.”The thought of his cock just under that thin membrane of latex andsomething sweet like chocolate to take away the vile taste in my mouthwas heavenly. I was nodding and going ‘Mmmm’ as I licked him.He bent and slipped the harness over my head. The part that went over mymouth consisted of a short wide piece of stiff thick rubber tube, aboutan inch long and 2 inches wide. He fitted it between my lips and thendid up the leather straps behind my head. When he had finished the tubefitted tightly between my teeth, keeping my mouth gaping round it.”Sit on the floor, girl. Lean back against the toilet-bowl.” I slippedfrom my squatting position onto my bottom and leant slightly until thecool white porcelain was pressing between my shoulders.”Anything to do up her legs with?” said the man.”Yeah, ‘course…” said the Piss Master. He grinned down at me.”…Yeah…don’t worry. We’ll see she can’t move an inch. Straightenyour legs, bitch.””Good. I don’t want her spoiling my fun by wriggling around.”The other two produced a leather belt each; the belts were wound roundmy legs at the ankles and just above my knees, then pulled tight and thebuckles done up. When they’d finished the Rubber Master stepped forwardagain until his feet were either side of my hips.”Tilt your head back, slut.”From the pocket of his rubber coat he pulled out a bag of chocolatedrops. He took two from the bag and said:”Here you are, Suki; would you like me to pop these into your mouth?”I nodded, eager for the sugary chocolate to replace the awful tastestill clinging to the inside of my mouth.”I love popping chocolate drops into little girls’ mouths…I know howmuch schoolgirls like stuffing their pretty faces with chocolate.” Hedropped them through the tube into my mouth. Because of the gag Icouldn’t move my jaw to chew them, but I moved them round with my tongueuntil they began to go gooey and dissolve. The taste was blissful reliefas it began to mask what I’d previously swallowed. He stood above me andstared down the tube into my gaping mouth.”Have some more.” he said and dropped two more through the gag-tube.”Little girls are always being reminded to keep their mouths closed whenthey eat. That’s because their pretty little mouths are such a temptinginvitation to any man’s cock. Practically every guy gets a hard-on atthe thought of sticking it into an 8 or 9-year-old moppet’s face andfeeling her soft wet mouth suck his knob off. That’s why girls who keeptheir mouth open all the time are nothing but cock-teasing little tartsjust asking to have their mouths fucked…But the naughtiest moppets ofall are the ones who eat chocolate with their mouths open…”He stared down the tube at the chocolate-coated inside of my mouth. Hiseyes glittered cruelly as he spoke in a low murmur. Apart from thequeasiness I already felt from what they had made me suck out of myknickers, my tummy began to feel jittery and nervous at his words andthe sadistic intent in his eyes.”…Their mouths don’t remind men of their creamy little pink juicyfuckslits then. They look more like their dirty little bum-hole justafter they’ve been to the toilet. And girls who eat chocolate with theirmouths open are usually the same sort of naughty little sluts who don’tbother to wipe their botties properly before pulling up their pantiesagain, so they always have brown stains in their pantie-crotches and aretoo lazy to remember to flush the toilet after they’ve been, so theyleave their mess for someone else to clean up. That’s what you look liketo me: a dirty…lazy…. slut…and your mouth looks just like a toiletafter you’ve left your mess in it.”He took a belt from his pocket, bent and slipped it behind my neck. Heheld the ends and said to the other two men:”When I’m ready give me the ends of this. The other two men stood oneither side of me, and I began to be filled with dread at the utterhelplessness of my situation. The Rubber Master had the Amyl in his handand took several deep sniffs from it.”Well, I know just how to toilet-train dirty little moppets withchocolateychocolaty mouths and pooey panties….”Suddenly he stepped back and turned round. Then he backed towards meuntil my face was against the shiny folds of the bottom of his longrubber coat. He pulled it up and flicked it back behind my head. I couldsee something round sticking out of the back of his rubber pants. Heswept his coat further back and said:”Grab the little bitch’s hair and keep her head still till I’ve got itin her gag, then hand me the straps.”He bent his knees and the curves of his black rubber-covered bumcheeksbegan to descend towards my face. With a shock of stunned realisation Isaw what was protruding from the back of his pants: a short thick rubbertube about 2 inches long, similar to the one that formed my gag butslightly narrower. I guessed at once that it was meant to slot insidethe one that kept my mouth open. I moaned and tried to struggle free butit was quite useless. The others had done as he suggested and each had ahandful of my hair. My ankles, knees and wrists were tightly restrainedby the leather belts and I couldn’t even turn my head an inch. Slowlythe smooth curves of rubber were squashed down onto my face, forcing myhead to tilt right back until the porcelain edge of the toilet-bowl waspressing into the back of my neck. I felt the end of the tube pokinginto my cheeks and chin as he wiggled his hips round trying to find theentrance to the harness. Suddenly he located it and with a littlesatisfied ‘Aaah!’ he sank down and slotted his tube into my own.I was quaking with terror now. Despite the string of different Masters’bottoms I’d been made to kiss and lick already that afternoon – many ofthem by no means clean – and even after the soupy mess they’d just mademe suck out of my own knickers I was still shocked with horror at theidea of what I was now sure he was about to do to me.The strap round the back of my neck went tight and I heard him do thebuckle. My hair was released but it made no difference now; the beltrunning behind my head and up over his thighs kept my face pressedfirmly against his bottom. And the wicked little tube from his pantsthat was nowfitting snugly fitted into the tube of the harness gagprevented me from twisting my face away from him. He said:”Now then, you cheeky little cockslut, since you’re so fond of leavingyour mess for others to clean up and don’t mind letting men see yourlittle chocolateychocolaty gob looking just like the toilet you’ve pooedin, you can find out what it’s like to clean up someone else’sp*o…with your mouth, baby…” I began to struggle but with my handsand legs tied there was absolutely no way of getting my mouth free ofthe hollow tube-gag.”You can struggle all you want, moppet, but you’re still going to get anice thick hot turd in your pretty face…and you’re going to swallowevery fucking bit of it before I release you…Just think of it, littlebaby, a nice big ‘chocolate cock’ to suck until your cheeks are bulgingwith it…”Suddenly I squealed with fright as something sharp prodded the crotch ofmy panties. “That’s a knife, little slut. I’m going to push it rightthrough your panties and down between the lips of your slimy littleschoolgirl fuckslit if you don’t get your tongue inside my pants andstart french-kissing my hole at once…”I stuck out my tongue at once and pushed it up the tube. It was shortenough for my tongue-tip to feel the ridges of soft flesh forming thefissure in his bottom. I began to flick them with my tongue until hisskin was wet with my saliva.”Mmmmm…yes…yesss! Good, get it inside, baby-slut…Mmmmm!…Oooooohyeah! Can you feel what’s waiting in there for you to eat? Go on, pushyour tongue right into it, baby…”I could feel something firm pressing against my tongue just inside theman’s arse. My whole body was drenched in sweat and quaking withterrified anticipation by now.”Oooh quick! Give me the Amyl!” he said. I heard him snorting deeply atthe d**g and knew that if it had any kind of effect similar to the dirtylongings it had caused in me I was right on the verge of a task so vileand humiliating that I couldn’t have pictured it in my worst nightmarebefore today.”Ooooh, feel it, you pretty little moppet-slut, feel it coming! OoohGod!! Oooh look at her lovely little panties squirming with fright!!Ooooh YESSS!!!” Suddenly the pressure from the ring of flesh hugging mytongue-tip vanished and was immediately replaced as the thing I couldfeel against the end started to slide downwards.My brain was a whirling daze of bright red lights as it tried not tobelieve the horror of what was happening. The column forced its way outof the man’s bottom and down the tube, forcing my tongue back into mymouth. I heard a distant grunt far above my head and quickly severalinches of the column of filth popped into my mouth. A voice inside myhead was praying ‘Oh god, please let it be a dream, please let me wakeup now and find out it’s just a dream.’ But it wasn’t. It continued tosqueeze through the tube until my tongue forced it to curl and squashinto my cheeks.I felt his fingers curl round my neck and gently squeeze my throat.”Come on, you hungry little slut, start swallowing it. We all know howmuch you love chocolate. I want to feel mine going down your throat,whore!”The butterflies in my tummy were now doing a frenzied dance of panic.With no Amyl to suppress my awareness of what I had been trapped into Iwas almost fainting with revulsion and horror. I could just barelybreath through my nose past the rubber pants against my face, and wasterrified that even if I didn’t immediately throw up and choke to deathinside the harness I would be suffocated soon by the man’s rubber-covered buttocks.I had no choice if I was to stay alive, and the Rubber Master above mewho had emptied his bottom into my mouth knew it. I forced a little ofthe squidgy vile-tasting filth down my throat, expecting any second thatmy stomach would instantly force it back up again. To my surprisenothing happened and I quickly realised that having the man’s shit in mytummy was infinitely preferable to having it in my mouth. I gulped moreof it down.As it slid past the back of my tongue I felt my gorge begin to rise, butI somehow managed to suppress the urge to throw up and carried on. Icould feel the man’s hand sliding back and forth from the shaft of hiscock down onto my throat, so that he could feel it each time Iswallowed. He kept murmuring:”That’s it, little girl…eat your delicious treat…you’re loving it,aren’t you girl…You’re such a greedy little moppet, aren’t you!…soeager to feel stiff spunky cocks in your little schoolgirl fuckslit…sohungry to suck your Masters’ knobs and drink their spunk and piss…andsuch a dirty kinky little slut you’re even begging to eat your dinnerhot from your Masters’ arses…ooooh you filthy little tart…don’t youever dare to forget that this is where you belong!…whenever you aren’tin here you should be thinking of nothing else but how soon you can gethere and beg for your Masters’ spunk, piss and shit…that’s right,swallow your Master’s shit, you kinky slut…remember, you’re ourproperty now; you report here whenever we say, you offer your mouth andbum instantly to anyone you’re told, you eat what you’re told and if wesay so you piss or shit in your panties…”I had almost forced all of it down my throat by now. My tummy was tautand swollen with spunk, piss and shit and I wondered if I was going todie later that night from what I’d been made to eat. Yet somehow I nolonger cared; if I died of it then it was no more than I deserved.For 2 years now I’d longed to find out what it felt like to have myhelpless body soiled and abused by men. These Masters had done it allthat long Sunday afternoon and finally had even taken me through a doorat the very edge of my own wildest dirtiest fantasies into an unknownworld of slavery and submission I could never have dreamed of. I hadbecome a ‘little schoolgirl’ victim of the most inconceivably obscenefantasy, and not once had the Rubber Master allowed his pleasure to beinterrupted by the smallest scruple of pity or mercy for me. From thequivering oozy hole between my legs to my slimy brown-coated tongue, mybody was brimful of a stew created from men’s most extreme lusts.So ruthlessly had the Rubber Master used me – so complete and thoroughhad been the humiliation of what I had done for him – that it finallyscrubbed away the last shred of innocence or pretence from my brain; Ihad nowhere to hide now, no right to shame or modesty, no rights toanything at all in fact. I had offered my soul and will to the Devil inexchange for the thrill of feeling my body feminised and brutally ****dinto submission, and clad in shiny black rubber from head to foot theDevil had sealed the bargain. How dare I complain if the terms of myenslavement didn’t suit me: what else did ‘enslavement’ if not giving upthe right to any likes or dislikes?But though I had secretly wanted it and flaunted myself to attract it, Ihad been coerced with blackmail from the very start. What kind ofenslavement could be meaningful if it was voluntary? To be enslaved wasto be forced, compelled, required, given no choice in the matter.These men had seen me for what I was, and had taken what was theirs,that was all. The taste in my mouth was simply the taste of slavery: whyshould it be pleasant? I had no right to complain if it was theopposite.”As a reward for being a good little tart and eating up your dinner youcan have some lemonade to wash it down. Either of you feel like anotherpiss yet?””Yeah – I could do some more.””Here, piss into the front of my knicks.”I heard the trickle and splash of pee falling into the man’s pants. ThenI felt him lift slightly and tug at the front of them just above mychin. Then warm salty pee began to flood down the tube into my mouth. Itwas bliss; I felt like I’d never tasted anything so clean or refreshingin my life and I was almost crying with gratitude as I let it wash mytongue and cheeks clean. After a minute or so I had reduced thefloodwaters making the Rubber Master’s pants bulge to a few littletrickles and felt a vacuum inside the tube when I sucked on it.”Lick my hole and the inside of your gag clean, slut.”I put my tongue tentatively back up the tube and licked his bottomagain. I felt a few little bits of shit on the skin round his hole andgently dislodged them with my tongue-tip. After what I had just gulpeddown my throat I hardly minded them at all and swallowed them quicklywithout thinking. After a few minutes I could barely taste anything butmy own saliva again.The belt round my neck suddenly went tight, then I heard the ‘clink’ ofthe buckle and the belt was undone. The man eased himself slowly up offmy face. Then he turned round. He pulled down the front of his pants andI gazed at his bright red swollen cock- knob as he rubbed it above myface. He held the Amyl bottle in his other hand and brought it down tomy nose. I sniffed at it.”You know exactly what you are now, don’t you, girl?” I nodded my head.”You belong to us, don’t you?” I nodded again. The d**g took hold andonce again I felt the warmth spread through my body and the sameincredible hunger of kinkiness in my head. “You’re a moppet for yourMasters to spunk, piss and shit into any time we want, aren’t you.”I nodded again.”You belong in here, where you can serve us, don’t you?” I nodded. “Infuture any and all free time you have no longer belongs to you, but toyour Masters. You will spend it in here serving them, or wherever youare taken, won’t you?” I gazed into the eyes gleaming through the rubbereye- holes. There was no sign of mercy or pity in them, only hisabsolute determination to make me accept my new role withoutqualification. I nodded, filled with excitement by the d**g at thethought of my future as their slave-girl.”You will now show your submission to your Masters.” He undid the beltsround my knees and ankles, then he ordered me to get on my knees. Withdifficulty, my hands still firmly trapped behind my back, I struggledand twisted until I got my legs beneath me and got myself kneeling. Hethen unfastened the harness and took it off. Freed at last from thetube-gag my jaw ached with relief.”You can lick that clean in a minute.” he said and let it drop on thefloor beside me. I noticed that the outside of the tube was still stickyand smeared with filth and shuddered a little.”There’s still a small treat left in my bum, moppet. When I turn roundI’ll expect to hear you say that you’re a naughty little moppet-slut andyou’re dying to have another piece of chocolate to eat. Then I’ll pulldown my pants and spread my bumcheeks. You know what I’ll expect you todo then. Don’t disappoint me, slave.”He returned the bottle to my nose. I inhaled as many times as I couldbefore he took it away. He turned, gathered up the divided flaps of theback of his coat and slowly began to slide the rubber knickers down fromhis waist.”Please Master…” I whispered. “I’m a naughty little moppet-slut.Please Sir, I’m dying to eat some more chocolate.” His naked bumcheekslooked shockingly white as the black rubber rolled down off them. Hishands paused just as he was about to expose his hole to me.”Oooh please Sir, please let me have some.” I whispered, knowing hewanted the thrill of hearing me beg for this. “I loved the taste of itbefore, Sir. Please let me lick it straight from your bottom, Master.Please won’t you fill your moppet-girl’s mouth? I promise I’ll always doanything you ever want me to, only please let me have your lovely hotchocolate to eat, Sir…”His hands abruptly pulled the pants down onto his thighs and then spreadhis buttocks apart. I gazed at the little brown circle of serrated fleshhe’d exposed, as if he’d hypnotised me with it. I rocked forward andsoftly pressed my lips against it. With nothing forcing me now, exceptmy desire to please him, I ran my tongue round it slowly. As if inanswer it spread and tautened as he leant his upper body forwards. Mytongue explored inside it – inside him.At first I felt nothing but the tight circle of flesh, then suddenlysomething moved and almost before I knew what had happened a small turdabout two inches long slid along my tongue into my mouth. This time Ifelt a shocking thrill at the kinkiness of what my mouth was being usedfor. I slid my tongue back and forth along it, feeling the warm textureof the shit. Before, I had done all I could to avoid tasting what was inmy mouth. But this time my body was buzzing and tingling with dirty gleeat my sluttishness. I sucked on the oval-shaped lump and felt it softenand mould itself to the contours of my mouth.And this time I didn’t try to keep the back of my tongue pressed to theroof of my mouth to keep it away from my taste buds; I tasted it, fully,letting the end of it lie almost in my throat. It still tasted as bitteras before but now, instead of horror and revulsion, the foulness of itsent shivers of perverted delight to every part of me. The taste was sostrong it almost blocked out all my other senses, and the one I wasstill so sharply aware of felt as if it were being ****d by thesensations that assaulted it. Every second it remained there was a kindof surrender, a sign of my subservience and obedience to my Masters.The Rubber Master straightened up and turned to face me. He could seefrom my face that I still had the turd in my mouth. He bent down andwhispered softly into my ear:”Good. Very good, Suki. Don’t swallow it until you’re given permission.Now do exactly what I tell you: push your tongue very slowly right intothe middle of it.” He wanked his cock quickly as he spoke, and pushedthe Amyl bottle to his nose and then my own several times. I keptstaring at the huge knob, purple with excitement a few inches from myface. I was pleasing it by what I was doing. The more disgusting hecould make my task the more it excited his cock, that I knew.”When you’ve got your tongue right in the middle of it start to move itslowly round inside your cheeks with your tongue. Keep on sucking ittill it’s completely soft. You won’t be permitted to swallow it untilyou’ve made it creamy enough to pour down your throat so you can tasteevery single drop when it does. Open your mouth to show me when you’vemade it as soft and runny as double cream, slut.”I did as he’d ordered and pushed my tongue-tip into the centre of thestill-warm ball of shit, forcing it between my teeth and lips, andsideways into my cheeks. I began to move my tongue around and felt itstart to soften and break up into smaller lumps. I kept sucking on it,still shocked by the unrelenting strength and vileness of the taste asmy saliva began to mingle with it, turning it into a thick cloying pastethat filled every part of my mouth. Soon I could work my tongue up anddown through it.For two or three minutes I kept swirling it round with my tongue,conscious throughout every second of that time that the filthy soupymixture I was creating I would shortly have to swallow. The RubberMaster continued to wank himself in front of my face, and now the othertwo Masters were doing the same on either side of him.”Show me how your filthy shit-hole looks now, you dirty little bitch.”he said. I leaned my head back slightly so that none would spill out andopened my mouth. “Almost ready. Keep sucking on it, slut.” I carried on,feeling the slimy brown stew soften more and more. After another minuteI looked up from his cock at his hooded face and opened my mouth again.He held out the Amyl again.”You can have some now, but that’s the last you get. When it wears offyou’ll still be expected to obey your orders to the letter, understandslave?” I nodded slightly and began to sniff as much of the fumes as Icould. After 10 seconds he took the bottle away from me.”Start to let it trickle down your throat, baby-whore. When we’ve allfinished spunking into your gooey little shit-filled cunt you canswallow all the rest of it.”The three men all crowded in close to me until the knobs of their cockswere all just above my open mouth. I let my tongue relax and the stuffbegan to ooze over the back of it into my throat. I swallowed. The menwere all taking turns to inhale from the Amyl and each was pantingsoftly as his hand stroked his stiff cock-shaft. I swallowed again. Thenagain. Suddenly white juice began to erupt from the cock on my left andfell into my mouth. Before it had finished the Piss Master on the rightof me began to spunk as well.Then with a deep groan of delight the Rubber Master’s started to come aswell. His first jet shot straight over my mouth and splashed my hair andforehead. He pointed his knob lower and the rest spurted over and inbetween my lips.I felt like a little schoolgirl, who’d already be stripped naked and heraching bottom and cunt-slit repeatedly ****d for their fun, whom theywere ‘finishing off’ by soiling her mouth in the dirtiest way they couldthink of. It was Heaven and Hell all at once. I adored it.Chapter 3From that day on I was theirs. I was sick later on that night, and as Icrouched in the bathroom at home and tasted the Rubber Master’s bottomin my mouth again I cried and prayed that I wouldn’t have to go anymore. A few days later a letter came for me. Inside was a single pictureof me, bending over in the middle of a circle of men, sucking one cockwhile someone else fucked my bottom. On the back was written: ‘Fridaynight, 8 p.m. sharp!’That weekend from Friday to Sunday evening I spent almost 15 hours inthe toilet dressed as a girl serving Masters. My mouth and bottom openedfor countless cocks to spunk in me. Each day the sessions ended the sameway: I was put into rubber knickers, my gaping spunk-filled bottom peedinto by someone, then I was ordered to fill my knickers and suck themdry. On the Saturday the Rubber Master ordered me to keep what was in mybottom from spilling out into my knicks until I felt his turd slide intomy mouth. So as he squeezed a shit into my face the mess in my strainingsore bottom squirted out and filled my knicks. When I’d finishedswallowing his turds I had to suck them dry afterwards. Drinking spunkor piss seemed the pleasantest and most natural thing in the worldcompared to that.On the Sunday evening the Rubber Master produced a rubber hood with acock-shaped sheath attached to the face at the mouth. I was made to holdit open against his bottom as he sent a really long thick turd into thesheath. Then he ordered me to put the hood on my head. The shit-filledsheath dangled down over my chin from my mouth. He made me hold it outstraight and then guide his cock with my hand so that his knob slowlypushed what was inside the sheath into my mouth, until the sheath wasfinally reversed with his cock inside it, firmly stuck in my shit-crammed cheeks. Like that his knob could actually feel my mouth throughthe rubber as I swallowed some of his turd. The rest he made me suck andsoften until I could suck his rubber-covered cock through the slipperymess. He got the obscene thrill of feeling me suck him, knowing my mouthwas as filthy as it was possible to be, while his cock remainedspotlessly clean.Plenty more photographs were taken of me and I knew very well now thatthe slightest sign of reluctance to come and serve when they wanted mecould result in my parents being sent a whole album of pictures of theirtransvestite kinky son begging for cocks. One day one of the regularMasters said to me:”It won’t do you any good to move away from home when you get older,unless you don’t mind your mum and dad seeing exactly what their darlinglittle boy was getting up to whenever he wasn’t at home.Bitches like you often think they can get out of being slaves byleaving home when they’re 16 or 17. Well, don’t waste your time thinkingabout it, cause if you try it, your parents are going to get a nice bigbundle of pictures showing just what a dirty slut you are – and they’llkeep getting them every week for a long time I can tell you, causethere’s no shortage of them.”From his jacket he pulled out a Dutch gay-porn magazine and opened it. Ifound myself staring at my own make-up covered face grinning at a cockan inch away from my mouth that the camera had caught in mid-spunk.”Once an undie-slut like you becomes a toilet-slave, she fucking wellstays one – for the rest of her life! Got it?”I began to serve on several evenings during the week after school, aswell as most of the weekend. I couldn’t dare tell any of my friends atschool, and I just came to be thought of as a ‘loner’. If only they’dknown just how many men I was meeting every week!Whenever I went out now I felt any man I passed was looking at me andthinking about the attractive little slut dressed as a girl that he’dfucked the previous night or weekend. Sometimes my Masters would taketake me to other toilets in the area and make me serve the men there.And not once did anyone ever ask if I liked, or wanted, to do what I wasdoing. It was simply irrelevant.I would just be ordered to suck, or pull my panties down to be fucked.I was quite amazed at how many men there were in the world who wereready to fuck me, and even more at how many positively enjoyed theirpower over me as a ‘slave-girl’, and could therefore experience thethrill of ‘r****g’ me.A few weeks after my first introduction I went to see a film at a cinemaa few miles away. A few minutes after the film started a man sat downnext to me. With no preamble he suddenly turned to me and said:”Get on the floor between my legs and start sucking my cock, littlebitch.” I stared at him, quite speechless, for a second or two.”I know exactly who you are, Suki. I fucked your bum on Friday night andyour mouth on Sunday afternoon. Now get on with it, you dirty littleslut, or I’ll have a cane with me the next time I see you in thetoilets.” Fortunately I saw that our row was totally empty, so I slippedout of my seat onto the carpet and opened his flies. He kept me likethat for the next hour and a half till he’d spunked into my throat fourtimes.That kind of thing became more frequent and no less blatant. One day Iwas out on a school run through the local woods. A man signalled me tostop. I was puffing and panting and thought he wanted help of some kind.Instead he said:”Quickly, Suki, get in those bushes over there and strip naked. Hurry upor I’ll give this to the next boy that comes along.” He flashed one ofthe Polaroids of me in the toilets in my skirt, stockings and panties. Iturned off the path and headed into the bushes. As I did so I thought ofmyself a year or so before and felt a deep thrill of shame andexcitement as I stripped off my vest and shorts. By the time he appearedI was just wearing my socks and running-shoes.”I said ‘naked’ and I meant it: every fucking stitch, you disobedientlittle slut! Get those off at once. Now put these on.” He handed me apair of black ‘French knickers’ with a large cream-coloured stain in thecrotch. I stepped into them and slid them up my cold trembling legs. Hetold me to bend over a fallen tree-trunk a few feet away, then haul upthe knickers very tight and spread my legs.”…oooooh you teasing little bitch…get your bumcheeks higher for mywhip, you fucking little whore…” He produced a thin black riding-cropfrom his coat and began to whip me with it, sometimes less painfullywhen it landed on the nylon of the knickers, but more often agonisinglyas it slashed the bare skin of my naked cheeks. And all the time I wasforced to bite my lip and make not a sound since we were just yards fromwhere other boys from my school were running past. Then he pulled thecrotch of the knickers to one side, and without bothering to lubricatemy hole in any way, roughly spread my stinging burning cheeks and thrusthis cock into my bottom. He came almost at once and said as he pulledout of me:”There! that’s what you were asking for, running around these woodshalf-naked, wasn’t it, you teasing little whore!” Then he yanked theknickers off my legs and simply turned and walked away into the woodswithout another word. The rest of the run was distinctly uncomfortablefor me and I was terrified my whip-marks would be visible below myshorts when I got back to the school changing-rooms.It seemed I could be had anywhere, any time, by anyone, no matter what Iwas intending, or supposed, to be doing. Once I was stopped walking downthe High Street by a man in a car. He told me to get in, drove in to theTesco’s car park, and then ordered me to suck him off in broad daylightwhile shoppers arrived and droive off all around us.* * * * *One Sunday evening, after I had been serving already for three hours, Iwas told to walk out dressed just as I was and get into someone’s car.Though it was already dark my knees were knocking with fright as Iwalked out of the toilets and up the path to the pavement. A car’sheadlights flashed twice about 30 yards up the road. I walked up to itand the passenger door was opened for me. The man drove me to anothertoilet a few miles away where I’d already served once before. Once I’dscuttled inside and into a cubicle the man who’d brought me thereoffered me to several men who came in in the next two hours. All of themwere struck by my appearance and I soon ended up bending over with twococks in me. While I was in that position the man said:”You’ll find your things round the back of the other toilets. Make yourown way there.” And before I could utter a word of protest he had gone.One of the men who was fucking me laughed and said:”Lovely. We’ve got this little undie-slut trapped here in her skirt andpanties. Go on, you bitch, get more of my cock in your mouth.”Five more men came in while I was being fucked, and each new arrival wastold by the others how I had been left there by a Master. They all stoodround in the open doorway of the cubicle, wanking each other and waitingfor one of my holes to become free. I begged for one of them to drive meback after I’d finished serving them all, but one of the new arrivalssaid:”Not a chance, slut. There’ll be loads of guys coming in here when thepubs shut. You can stay right here so they can have their turns.” He wasright. Within half an hour there were 9 or 10 men in there. By the timemost of them left my jaw was aching, my bottom was sore and the back andfront of my panties was drenched with spunk. At last there were just twomen left. I tried again and begged one of them to drive me to the othertoilets. One finally agreed. When I’d sucked the other to orgasm and heleft, the man said:”I don’t think I want you anyway, so we’ll go straight away.”He made me crouch in the back of his car on the floor because he said hedidn’t want me getting spunk on his car-seatscar seats. Ten minuteslater we stopped. He got out, opened the back door and said:”Get out. I’ve changed my mind. I think you can serve me after all.” Isaw that he had parked at the end of a ‘no-through-road’ I recognised.In front of us was a wood that ran from where we were to just behind theHigh street where my own toilets were. He ordered me to walk into thewood and I began to feel absolutely terrified that he was going to killme or something. I stumbled unsteadily into the dark on my high heels,hearing the rustle of his feet behind me. After we’d gone about 50 yardshe ordered me to stop and lift my skirt. He slapped my bottom severaltimes and said:”You fucking whoring slut! Pull your knickers down, girl.” As I did sohe put one arm round my neck. Then he held out his other hand in frontof me and in the gloom I saw he was holding an enormous dildo, muchbigger than any of the cocks I’d been fucked by.”Look at it, bitch. I bet you’re dying to feel it up your fanny, aren’tyou? Bet you can’t wait to have it rammed up your hot little slit, eh?Ask me to shove it up you.””Pl-please sir,” I whispered, almost choking with fright, “please pushit up my fanny. Please, ram- uh!” Suddenly he pushed the tip of it intome. I felt as if my hole was being torn wide open. Then he grunted andquickly pushed some more inside me.”Love it, don’t you, girl? Don’t you!?” he hissed in my ear.”Uh!!…Oh! Y-y-yes-sis, sir!” I said, my teeth chattering with pain andcold.”Well, there’s still three or four more inches to go up your cunt,bitch.” He pushed more inside me and the pain became agony. I moaned andbegan to struggle, but his suffocating arm just tightened round mythroat and he began to ram the huge thing back and forth in my body.Each inward thrust made me feel physically sick. Suddenly, as painfullyas it had started, he yanked it out of me. Then he threw me onto theground. He dragged me over until I was face up, then he knelt down abovemy head facing my feet. He pulled his trousers off his hips and squashedhis bare bottom hard down onto my face. I felt him begin to wank himselffuriously and he hissed:”Get your tongue inside my arse, slut!”I was praying he would come quickly as I was starting to suffocate withmy face buried between his buttocks. After a few seconds I began topanic. My hips started to jerk and twist as I tried in vain to wriggleout from under him.”Ooooh yeah! Do your sex-show for my cock, you fucking dirty slut! Showme how your cock-hungry cunt begs all those guys to fuck it!!”I began to thrash around wildly in panic, frantically trying to get airinto my lungs, but he just pressed harder onto my face.”Oooh yes!! Squeal for it, baby!! Beg for it-…Aaaaggh! I’M SPUNKING ONYOU, BITCH!!!”Suddenly he rolled off me and I lay there panting and sucking in hugemouthfuls of air. I was too faint to notice him pull up his trousers andstumble away into the night.As I walked through the silent wood back to the the other toilets Ibegan to realise the full meaning of my undie-slave status; I had nocontrol over my fate any more. More than that: even my life itself couldbe gambled with to satisfy my Masters’ thrills. For the first 10 minutesor so I cursed my stupidity and the cravings that had led me to the trapI was now so tightly held in. But as I walked on, getting nearer andnearer to the toilets and my other clothes something happened.The stillness of the wood, the cool breeze blowing up my skirt and roundthe crotch of my clinging sperm-soaked panties, the soft chafing of mynylon-covered thighs as I walked, all conspired to spark small freshthrills in my body. The first time I had stripped in a public place hadbeen in this wood at night.It was the very risk of discovery, exposure and humiliation that hadthrilled me so deeply that first time. I knew that something inside melonged for that feeling of excitement and danger, wanted that unbearablystomach-tightening nervous thrill of being in someone else’s power, thethrill that sent a sexual charge coursing through my veins likeelectricity until every ounce of my body seemed to exist for onepurpose, to satisfy my Masters’ wildest lusts.Each new humiliation was intended to make me more docile and submissiveuntil I was ready to obey any order unthinkingly without question. Andit worked. Soon I was hurrying down to the toilets whenever I could. Iwould dress in my girls’ clothes before leaving home, covering them withas little as possible, usually just a zip-up jacket and trousers.Sometimes I even put on the basis of my make-up as well, so withinminutes of arriving I would be ready in my high heels, stockings andminiskirt, my lips scarlet with lipstick, my cheeks glowing pink withblusher and my eye-lidseyelids darkened with eye shadow.They didn’t need to take my other clothes away any more. I would putthem in a plastic bag as soon as I undressed. The first few times theywould take the bag away, but after a few weeks they stopped. bothering,knowing that I would make no move to touch it until I was givenpermission to leave at the end of my serving-session.Of course I wasn’t always feeling in the mood to have some stranger’ssoft sticky drooling cock thrust in my mouth but I found a way ofsignalling my reluctance to my Masters, so that they understood that myhalf-hearted subservience needed reinforcing. I always took threeleather belts and a tie with me. And on the evenings or afternoons whenI felt I was merely going through the motions out of obedience to them,I would tie up my ankles and knees myself before unlocking my door. Thenthe regular Masters who knew me well would always bind my wrists behindmy back straight away in the manner they had done the first time: thetie, looped at each end, with one loop round my left wrist, going fromthat round my right hip, across the front of my tummy and then backround my left hip and the other end looped over my right wrist; then thebelt wound several times round my crossed wrists and done up. The simplefact of being so helpless usually aroused my interest enough to startbutterflies in my tummy. And on those occasions my Masters always wentto greater lengths to make me perform even more servile tasks than usualso that I couldn’t remain indifferent to what they did to me.At the start of such days I often managed to convince myself that thoughthey might still find new tasks for me to perform, at least theycouldn’t shock or humiliate me any more than they already had. Yet nomatter how unexcited or absent I was feeling, time after time theysucceeded in proving me wrong with some new depraved game in which I wasthe victim.One Sunday after several hours of cock-serving the Rubber Masterarrived. Several more men came in after that but none of them seemed towant to fuck me. When I’d served all the other men present and they hadleft, the Rubber Master said to the four other men still in there:”Right. She’s all yours now.” The four of them eyed me with obviousexcitement and I could tell that something special was in all four men’sminds. One cleared his throat and said in a low voice:”Is she…is there anything…?””Absolutely not. She’s a slave and she knows it. She belongs to us. Nolimits; you can do anything you like with her, I promise you. Tell yourMasters you’re a kinky little shit-doll, Suki, and beg them to dowhatever they like.” I watched their eyes light up with unconcealed gleeas I whispered the words.”Sit on the floor in front of the toilet, shit-doll.” said one of themen “Now pull up your top and take out whatever you’ve got in yourbra.” I did so, removing the balled-up stockings I used to fill my bra-cups with to give my body the appearance of ‘breasts’. Then two of themen turned, bared their bottoms and thrust them towards me.”Catch our shit in your bra, slave.”Until that moment I had never actually seen someone shit or the waytheir bottom looked afterwards; I had felt it sliding into my mouthquite a few times by then, but always when my lips were already pressedagainst the man’s bottom or my head was hooded so that I couldn’t see athing. Although the sensation was humiliating and the taste awful,somehow it didn’t seem quite so real. It was possible for me todisconnect my mind from what they were actually doing whenever someMaster used my mouth as his toilet.But actually watching their turds sliding from their bottoms and fallingagainst my freshly-bathed skin made me feel sick at the depths ofslavery to which I had so quickly sunk. I watched as their holesswelled, opened and slowly pushed out long brown snakes of shit. I heldmy bra-cups outstretched and leant forward slightly so that they fellwhere he had directed. The brown sausage-shaped turds had coiled andnestled warmly against my nipples inside the nylon bra-cups.”Pull your top back down over your bra again. Now, while you’re lickingour holes clean, squeeze your bra till you’ve got a pair of nice littletitties showing through your top.”They both thrust their bums back further, nearer to my face. I looked atthe shit-smeared flesh between their parted cheeks and began to shake alittle at the sight. I had had Amyl several times already that afternoonand was feeling in a generally excited and sexualised state, but no-oneno one offered me any now.”Come on, bitch, start licking us clean; we’re not going to wait allnight…and see you get your tongue right inside our arses and do athorough job of it, girl.”I bent forwards until my lips grazed the brown filthy hole of the man onmy left. As soon as he felt me touch him he pushed himself back hardagainst my mouth.”That’s it, moppet, a nice slow lick till my hole is spotlessly clean!”I set to work. Meanwhile I began to squeeze what filled my bra, mouldingthe warm stuff against my skin until I had formed two rounded ‘breasts’with it. I leant back from the left hand bottom, satisfied that he couldhave no complaints about the cleanliness of it, and turned to the partedcheeks on the right. Both men were clearly enjoying the attentions of mytongue and I could feel their balls rubbing against my chin occasionallyas they wanked themselves while I licked them. But neither man came yet.”Stand up.” said the third of the group. “Pull your panties down an inchor so. That’s enough. Now sit on the toilet. Spread your legs. Lift yourskirt. Now pull out the waistband of your knickers and hold them open.”He was taking off his trousers and pants as he issued his orders. Thenhe walked forwards until he was standing astride my waist, with hisknees bent and his feet on either side of the base of the toilet bowl.He put his hands on my shoulders to balance himself, smiled at me andsaid:”Get your mouth round my knob so I can piss down your throat as I shitinto your knickers, tart.” I bent forwards and could just get his cock-knob in my mouth. Pee began to gush from it and I swallowed as fast as Icould. I could see his fat white hairy belly straining as he squeezed.Then I felt something warm and heavy fall into the crotch of my out-stretched panties, slithering past my own little soft cock and balls andsettling in the loose folds of nylon beneath. He emptied a string ofthick turds between my thighs, and when he had finished peeing hestraightened up and turned himself round so his back was to me.”Lick my hole clean.”When he bent forwards, to make his cheeks part and expose his hole formy tongue, the task I was confronted with appalled me. He had notmanaged to free the remainder of his final turd, with the result thatwhen he had stood up to turn round he had squashed what was left betweenhis cheeks. I recoiled in horror at a brown circle on the man’s tautlyspread white bumcheeks that was almost as large as an orange.”Come on, you fuckin’ dog, hurry up an’ lick it all off!”From the hole itself I could plainly see quite a sizable lump stillsticking out of the man. Gingerly I skirted round it, licking off thesmaller brown smears with my tongue. But finally there was nothing forit; I parted my lips wide, let them settle against the clean flesharound the hole, and then pushed my tongue under the turd and justinside the man’s bottom. Then I began to suck hard and slowly squeezedmy lips together as the lump slid free of his hole into my mouth.”Ooooh yeah!…Ooooooh FUCK! Innit great when you feel a little moppet-slag suckin’ the shit right out yer arse ‘ole!Christ, I wish she was a little fuckin’ schoolgirl, ’bout 8 or 9 yearold!”I knew I couldn’t finish cleaning his hole unless I swallowed what wasin my mouth first. The vision of what it was and where it had come fromwas seared into my brain, and despite having swallowed much largerquantities previously I had to really force it down my throat and forseveral seconds was quite sure that I was going to be violently sick allover the back of the man’s thighs. But somehow I managed to control mytummy. The rest of the task was much easier. After a couple more minuteshe straightened up again and walked away.”Stand up and kneel on the floor with your knees apart.” said the fourthman. “Now pull your pants up good and tight. Smooth them out and make apair of cunt-lips with what’s inside them.”I squeezed my bulging nylon pantie-crotch until the shit had formed asmooth thick layer over my crotch and up between my bumcheeks. Then Iran my little finger down the centre of the strip of nylon between mythighs several times until I had created a crease that resembled agirl’s vagina lips.”Will you fill the hood?” Said the last man to the Rubber Master.”Sure, if you want.” He took the familiar hood with its attached cock-sheath from his pocket.”You know what to do, Suki.” I took it and turned it inside out, butleft the sheath as it was. The Rubber Master had turned round by now,and revealed that the pants he wore beneath his shiny coat had a largehole at the back, so he didn’t even have to lower them. I held therubber hood to his bottom so that the entrance to the sheath was againsthis hole. After a few seconds I felt a long turd slide between my handsinto the sheath. Then when I was sure he had finished and all six inchesor so of the sheath was filled with shit I took it from his bottom andcarefully turned the hood the right way out again. Naturally I then hadto lick the Rubber Master as well.”Perfect. I think our little shit-doll’s almost ready now.” As thefourth man spoke there were footsteps on the path leading to thetoilets. Immediately the Rubber Master and the fourth man, who had histrousers off by now, slipped into the cubicle and closed the door, whilethe other three, who had dressed again, scuttled out into the area bythe urinals. The footsteps stopped inside the toilets. Then there was atap on the cubicle door. The Rubber Master opened it.”Ah, Jack. We thought perhaps you’d decided not to come.””No way.” said the new arrival, a large man with a huge beer-gut. “Iwouldn’t have missed this for anything. I just got held up a bit.””Feel her tits and knickers, Jack.” said one of the two men who’d filledmy bra. The newcomer bent over and gave the front of my pink lycraLycratop a gentle squeeze.”Oh lovely!” he said, and then slid his hand down my tummy and up myskirt. “Oooh, what a fucking kinky little whore!! Has that hood got whatI think it has in it?””Yeah, ‘ee just done it while she ‘eld it for ‘im.””I’m just about to do her mouth.””Lovely. I’m glad I didn’t miss that; that’s the best bit!””Right, girl, look up and get your mouth open.” The others all gatheredround to watch as he turned and stood with his legs bent. He positionedhimself until his bottom was directly above my up-turned face. I waitedfor him to bend his knees enough to bring his hole down onto my lips,but then I saw the skin of his hole begin to contract and squeeze andrealised that he wanted the others to watch his turds come out and fallinto my open mouth. I clutched at my crotch instinctively to make mybody respond with some small flicker of excitement at this awfulprospect, but instead I felt only the sensationless little slit in mypanties formed by the warm thick filth inside them.I kept silently repeating in my head: ‘You are a slave; you belong toyour Masters; you do as they command; your function is to obey theirorders and please them…’ as I stared at the pale brown ring of flesh.It began to swell and push outwards until it had formed an obscene pout,as if it were inviting a kiss from my lips. Then the dark brown tip of aturd appeared in the middle, like a coffee-stained tongue pointingrudely at my face. The pout became a gape as the tongue grew longer,longer, impossibly long. Slowly it kept sliding out and down until 5 or6 inches of it hung suspended above my face. The tip was between mygaping lips now. Then with a little breathless ‘Aaaah!’ of pleasure andrelief, the man pushed the last of it out of himself and it fell into mymouth.He stood up and turned round immediately to see the result of hisefforts. I had four inches of his turd in my mouth and almost as muchagain still poking up above my open lips. Above my head six pairs ofeyes glittered with evident delight and very close to my face a ring ofsix engorged knobs jiggled around, moved by the hands on the shaftsbelow them. The newest arrival spoke:”Doesn’t she look just perfect like that; this is much more fun thanthat rubber doll of yours, Mick.””Oooh yeah! Look at the fuckin’ shock on her face!””Very slowly, suck the rest of it into your mouth.” Said the man who haddone it to me. I began to suck and my cheeks hollowed and clung to whatwas already in my mouth. A couple more inches of the warm cock-likething slipped slowly past my lips. There was still and inch or soprotruding from my face though, and without chewing the rest I could getno more to go in. The man with the beer-belly pulled something from histrouser-pocket.”I thought these might come in handy tonight.” From his hand dangled apair of flimsy black transparent lace briefs. “I got these out of thelaundry-basket at my brother’s house this afternoon. They belong to his14-year-old daughter; she’s a gorgeous little cock-teaser and I reckonshe wore ’em on Saturday night when she was out at a disco.””Cor, let’s have a sniff, Jack.”The men all passed them round, each inspecting the inside of the crotchclosely and smelling the aroma of the girl’s body still fresh in it. AsI knelt there between them, with the end of a turd still poking from mylips, I knew each was picturing this young girl in his mind andimagining it was her kneeling there at their feet, wearing nothing butthe immodest little scrap of nylon that they smelt, licked and rubbedover the oozy knobs of their swollen stiff cocks.”Oooooh, next time you’re round there, try and sneak into her bedroomand get a clean pair like these so I can spunk in ’em. Then you can slip’em back her drawer, and then some night she’ll be out dancing somewhereand getting herself all sweaty with my spunk all over her fanny-lips.””God, that’s a fuckin’ brill idea! Christ, I’d love to be there to watchher. Pity we wouldn’t know which night she’d pick to wear ’em though.””Give them to me.” said the man who had brought them. “I’ll show youwhat I’d like to do with them – and her. ” He took them and held themopen at the waistband, with his fingers curled round through the leg-holes. The broadest part of the flower-patterned black lace, where theyhad covered her 14-year-old bottom was towards him. He stood behind meand brought the waistband down over my head, so that the back of themwas now stretched in front of my face. Then he pulled them tight behindmy head and the tension of the nylon forced the rest of the turd into mymouth. He grabbed them with one hand and pulled them very tight. Then heknotted them at the back with something. One of the others suddenlysaid:”Ooh god, I can’t – Uh! Oh! Aaaaah!!” As he gasped he quickly stepped infront of me, pushed my head back slightly and let his knob erupt ontothe strip of lace covering the upper part of my face. The effect on theothers of seeing the white sperm trickling down from the very spot onher panties that they had all been visualising filled and stained by theschoolgirl’s wet 14-year-old pussy was electric. It was quite apparentfrom the stiffness and excited purple colour of the flesh between theirstroking fingers where each of them would have liked it to be at thatmoment.”Oooh!…woss your niece’s name, Jack?” said one hoarsely.”Alana.””I’d like ter shove ‘er teasin’ little knicks right up ‘er cunt wiv myknob.””From the state of them I reckon that’s what some boy did on Saturdaynight. Hold your hood out in front of you, you spunk-filled littlecockteaser.” Said the man called Jack. He quickly took down his trousersand turned his back to me. “Hold the neck of it against my arse, girl.”I did as I was told, dreading what was to come by now. I felt him emptya long thick turd into the inside of the hood from his bottom. “Wipe myarse with the inside of it, bitch.” I did that. Then he turned round andsaid: “Now hold the neck of it shut. Pinch the nose with your otherhand.”He took hold of it in his hands and began squeezing the lump insideuntil he had squashed it flat.”Now, you cheeky little bitch, we’re going to teach your randy cock-teasing pussy a lesson. Bend over and put that hood on.” Even though Ihad known it was building to this moment I could still hardly believe myears. I knew why the sheath had been filled, but I hadn’t been expectingwhat he had just done and the thought of what the inside of the hood wasnow like horrified me. “Do it this instant, slut or there’ll be a caningon those plump little arse-cheeks of yours as well once you’ve got iton.”I bent my head and began to pull the rubber neck of the hood open. Thecreamy filth inside meant there was no friction from the rubber as thehood slid easily in place over my head. I could feel the stuff againstmy cheeks and pressing down into my hair.”Lie on the floor with your knees up and your legs apart.” I did so,feeling faint and disorientated; with the smooth curves of my nylonpanties bulging with it, my mouth crammed full of it, the warm’breasts’ in my bra-cups formed of it and my head trapped inside aclammy pitch-black hood full of it, I really did feel like a sex-dollwhose smooth rubber curves were filled from head to toe with shit, sothat the latex holes of her mouth, vagina and bottom would feel warm,tight and yieldingly life-like when entered.I had become their ‘shit-doll’. My only consolation in the midst of thisutter humiliation was that at least I could breath easily through theunobstructed nose-holes in the rubber. I was grateful to the man calledJack for remembering to tell me to pinch them before he spread the filtharound inside the hood.I felt men kneeling round me. Hands began to stroke my thighs, my braand my crotch. Someone lifted my head up and I felt the neck of an Amylbottle against my nose. Guessing what was coming next I inhaled asdeeply as possible. Soon the familiar dirty feelings were racing throughmy body, and suddenly I was ecstatic at the thought of the soft squishy’slit’ in my shit-filled panties. I thrust my hips up off the floor andsquirmed an obscene invitation to their cocks.My body felt as if it was actually trapped upside-down inside one ofthese men, with my head trapped inside his bottom, my lips pressedagainst the inside of his anal hole. A weird sensation filled me, as ifsomeone’s turds were being forced to pass through my body the wrong way,from my bottom up through my belly and out of my mouth, but his bottomstayed firmly closed so the shit was forced back over my head inside hisrectum. The image of the soft shit-filled rubber sex-doll came morestrongly into my head. I felt someone’s hand pick up the sheath so thatit was vertical above my face and heard a distant voice saying:”I want to ram the teasing little bitch’s panties into her crack withbig thick cock…” A voice very close to my head hissed:”Get your ‘ole ready for this big juicy cock, you fuckin’ whore! Go on,get what’s between yer cheeks down yer fuckin’ throat right now,slag…”I was thrilled at the thought of what was inside the sheath forcing theyoung girl’s soiled pantie-nylon into my mouth and began to squeezelumps of shit down my throat. As soon as my mouth was no longercompletely filled I felt the lace mesh pushing between my lips,propelled by the thick turd inside the sheath. I gulped as fast as Icould, feeling the slimy mess coating the back of my tongue and mythroat. The lace kept pressing into my mouth, becoming more and moretaut.The sensation in my mouth was like it was being slowly andcomprehensively ****d by a very large, semi-stiff cock that was gettingbigger and bigger with every passing second. I ran my tongue tiphungrily back and forth over the tight straining lace and felt the turdoozing through the tiny holes. I sucked and sucked, and finally squeezedmy lips together slowly as I pressed upwards against the lace with mytongue, forcing the stuff to come through the flimsy mesh faster. Andwith each squeeze I licked off the thick creamy shit oozing through thegirl’s panties and swallowed it as eagerly as chocolate. My head wasspinning with a mixture of incredulous horror and hot uncontrollabledelight at what I was doing, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was for themen who crowded round me to see the half-naked 14-year-old harlotwrithing around in a frenzied stew of nymphomanicnymphomaniac hunger,almost u*********s with ecstasy at her soiled body’s repeatedpenetrations.I heard and felt a shower of spattering drops as the group began tospray my squirming body with spunk. I heard their groans and ‘Aaaah!’sof delight at their climaxes and was shaken to my very core with athrill of pure delight so strong and so complete that I wanted themoment to last for ever and ever. This feeling inside was my destiny;nothing in the world could possibly feel more thrilling; there was notask or function in the world more important than this. I was made forit, created for this moment and these men’s pleasure from the day I wasbornIt was my sixteenth birthday. And there was no part of me, not even thesmallest corner of my mind, that didn’t exist to serve as a sex-slave.Chapter 4Over the next few months I was fucked by dozens of men every week. Thesessions always left my repeatedly sodomised bottom aching and tender.But I didn’t mind; the sensation the following day just reminded meconstantly how much I had satisfied my Masters and how completely I hadsurrendered my body to them. With each passing week I felt less and lesslike a schoolboy with a shameful secret sex-life, more and more like afeminine slave who was reluctantly forced to spend part of her timestill pretending to be a schoolboy.Whenever I went anywhere within 5 or 6 miles of my home now I almostalways spotted one or two Masters who had had me, and because my mouthwas usually intent on serving my Masters’ cocks or bottoms, rather thanlooking at their faces, I had no doubt that many more probablyrecognised me as well.Apart from the days when we had games or PT at school I wore undiespractically every day by now. One afternoon the PT master got angry withme and ordered me to stay behind after PT ended. He often punished boysthat way, by making them stay late and clear up the equipment. When theothers had left and the place was deserted he he locked the door andthen said:”Take off your shoes and socks.” I wondered what rotten punishment hehad in mind today, but did as I was told.”Now take off your vest and shorts…” I looked startled and he said:”Go on, Suki, strip…Oh yes, I know all about you from a friend ofmine.”I stood there naked while he gazed at my body.”Have you any of your proper clothes with you in your bag?”I nodded, blushing. That lunchtime I slipped off to the school toiletsand changed out of the panties, bra, suspenders and stockings that I’dbeen wearing all morning.”Go and put them on, then come down to the box-room.”That was one of the basement rooms under the Gym where games equipmentwas stored. Five minutes later I crept down the stairs, along thepoorly-lit underground corridor and pushed open the green metal door ofthe box-room. The games-master was standing there in a black studdedleather corset whichcorset that left him naked from the waist down. Hewas holding an old worn gym slipper in one hand.”Come in. Go and stand over there with your hands behind your back andlook at the floor.” He gestured to a ‘wooden horse’ with several of thelower sections removed, so it was only about 3 feet high. He came acrossand stared at me. Then he walked slowly round behind me.”It’s such a shame that they took away our right to slipper boys fordisobedience.” I flinched as he squeezed my left bumcheek through thepanties. “It was such fun seeing a boy’s nicely spread young bottomwaiting for the first stroke after he’d had to hitch up his shortsreally tight and bend over…There’s always one or two cockteasinglittle fairy-boys in every year. They’re easy to spot…the ones whoalways seem to buy gym-shorts a couple of sizes too small1. They werealso always the ones who never complained when I slipped their shortsdown first, so I could slipper their cheeky little naked bums.Well, I’ve heard all about what you’ve been up to…cavorting about ingirls’ undies and begging for every man there to fuck you…It’sdisgraceful behaviour! Acting like a girl and letting strangers intoilets use you like one. Since that’s how you like to be treated,that’s how you ought to be punished, isn’t it? Any girl who takes herpanties down as often and as eagerly as you is nothing but a slut and awhore. What are you, Suki?””Please Sir, I’m a slut and a whore.” I whispered.”You need a good slippering on your randy little bottom with yourpanties down, don’t you? Well…what do you say?””Please Sir, I need a good slippering on my randy little bottom with mypanties down.””Bend over the box; now pull your knickers down and bare your whoringarse for the slipper. Now place your hands, palms flat, on the floorover on the other side, and don’t you dare move them! Spread your feetapart a bit.”The slipper landed with a resounding SLAP! across my taut bumcheeks.Then it fell again. Then again. By the sixth time my cheeks were burninghot. The eighth made me squirm and cry out. The tenth made me raise oneleg and twist my body round in pain. I looked by over my shoulder, myface begging him to have mercy.”Get your feet back on the floor and keep them there. You’ll get as manyas I think you deserve, and if I hear one peep out of you before I’vefinished I may be forced to let the Headmaster know what I’ve heardabout you…From now on, after each stroke you’ll stick your teasinglittle arse out so it’s begging for the next. And if you don’t do itquick enough I’ll add a few more than I’ve planned, understand slut?Understand!?””Yes…please Sir.”I straightened my legs and thrust my bottom up into the air to meet thestroke.WHOP!…WHOP!…WHOP!…I clenched my teeth in a welter of agony andpushed out my bottom again.”You…(WHOP!)…little…(WHOP!)…whoring…(WHOP!!)…slut!!…(WHOP!). What are you, Suki?””Please S-s-sir…(WHOP!)…I’m a lu-lu-little…(WHOP!)…uh-uh-whoring…(HHOP!)…s-s-s-slut-(WHOP!!).”Tears began to stream down my cheeks and my bottom felt as if a red-hotfrying pan had been slapped against it. At last he stopped and I laythere, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing.”Now, you cockteasing bitch, take that!” Suddenly he pushed his knobbetween my burning cheeks, against my tightly-clenched hole and began toforce his dry unlubricated cockshaft into me. I screamed with pain, buthe just said:”You can squeal all you like, you fucking tart; no-one will hear youdown here.”He rammed his cockshaft deep inside me and began to fuck me. Although ittook him barely two minutes before he began to groan with orgasm it wasthe most painful fuck I’d experienced since the day I was first ****d 9months before. When it was over he pulled out of me and said:”Next week see that you bring all your other clothes with you to PT.Slip down here and change at the end of the class. I’ll expect you to bestanding here dressed and ready for me, Suki. Now get out!”After that I became his regular Wednesday afternoon exercise. I took tosquirting a little K-Y into myself, when I was changing beforehand, butnothing could minimise the pain of the slipperings. He quickly built uphis own private album of Polaroids of my reddened glowing bottom. But henever came to any of the toilets to join in the group orgies I was usedfor. He preferred to have me to himself, calling me his ‘wicked naughtyneiceniece’, and saying it was his job to punish my behaviour.Unfortunately he spent almost as much time encouraging it, by fuckingme, as he did supposedly correcting it, by whipping me.* * * * *Only one thing still hindered me from shedding the last traces of theboy I had been a year before: the fact that I was still at school, andstill living at home. I could hardly wait for the end of the summerterm. The small circle of my original Masters asked me if I was leavingthen and I told them that I would if there was some way that I couldbecome their full-time slave.At the beginning of a Sunday afternoon session a few weeks later theytook me to a shop a few miles away. The man who owned it unlocked theshuttered door and as I stepped inside I entered Aladdin’s Cave. It wasa sex shop, full of pretty dresses and costumes of satin, rubber andother materials. The owner ushered me through the stockroom behind themain shop. At the far end was a door leading into a narrow hallway withthe back door to the premises right next to it and stairs going up tothe first floor.I followed him upstairs and he showed me the flat above the shop. It wasspartan but quite roomy. The owner said:”When you leave school you will come and live here. I’ve been wantingsomeone to live on the premises for security reasons for a while. You’llwork in the shop as a sales-girl, showing my TV customers how they couldlook. You’d always be dressed as a girl when you were working in theshop. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?””Oh yes Sir!””The money you earn will pay for your clothes, your rent to live here,and the time and trouble we’ve already taken training you as a slave.You will be given a small amount of pocket money out of it – not a wageof course; you are a slave, remember, not an employee. Is thatunderstood?””Yes sir.””Now follow me.”He led me downstairs to the back hallway again. At the inner end was adoor leading to the cellar. I noticed it was thickly padded on theinside. At the bottom of the steps was another heavy wooden door. Beyondit was a room with mirrored walls and ceiling. , in the middle of whichwas a structure like a low vaulting box padded with black leather. Thelegs were angled out and had leather cuffs attached to their bases. Itwas secured to the floor with heavy steel bolts.It took no imagination to guess what the function of the room was.”You will also be expected to provide quite a few of the customers withyour personal services as a slave down here. You’ll be offered to thosemen as a prostitute: they will have paid your Masters for your obedienceas a sex-slave. So you will see to it that you never forget that factand always provide them with the fullest satisfaction of their wants,whatever they may happen to be.”He went to one wall and pushed open a panel in it, which led to anothersmaller room with cream tiled walls, but a mirrored ceiling like thefirst. In one corner was a shower and a washbasin. There was a toilet ofsorts next to them. There was no cistern or bowl, just a seat resting onan open wooden base about 9 inches high. Set into the floor tiles in themiddle of the room was a square metal grill leading to a drain.”You’ll be responsible for keeping these rooms tidy at all times.Especially this one. It must be spotless for any Master who wants to useyou in here.That’s agreed then, Suki? You move in as soon as you leave school at theend of this term?””Yes, thank you Master.” I said, not daring to hesitate or pause tothink, since that was clearly what the five men in the room expected ofme.”Good. You can tell your parents whatever you like when you move fromhome. I expect they’ll find out the truth soon enough, but whatevertheir attitude is, we don’t expect it to make any difference whatsoeverto your obedience or the performance of your slave-tasks.” I nodded toshow my acceptance.”You will not need to bring anything except one raincoat, one pair oftrousers and one pair of ordinary shoes. Once you’ve moved here you willdress as a girl all the time, and generally when you go out to toiletsor parties to serve, you will go already dressed. So you will have nofurther need of any clothes not appropriate to your function. But youwill sometimes be permitted to conceal your true nature and status underthe things I’ve said you can bring with you, when sent out on errands oroccasionally allowed out for your own recreation. Any questions, slave?””No, please Sir.” I was still too astounded by the neat simplicity ofthe plan they’d devised to take over and control every aspect of mywaking life.”Remember, once you come here to live, you will be our slave 24 hours aday. You may be called upon to serve at any time of day or night. Thereis a back entrance to the flat from the kitchen. When I shut the shop atnight I shall lock this door -” He indicated the door that led from escort batman theliving-room downstairs to the shop. “and keep the keys, so that no-oneup here can interfere with the stock. But anyone may arrive at the backdoor, and no matter what time of night it is, if they tell you apassword that shows they have been sent by one of us, you will let themin and serve them. Understand?””Yes, Sir.”It all seemed so easy, and also so unavoidable. I was about to be ‘takeninto service’ like a nineteenth Fifteenth Century teenage girl takenfrom her village hut up to the noble Manner House. No pay, just a fewpence a week for neccessitiesnecessities, and the loss of all furtherclaim to any form of freedom. The prospect made me shiver with fear andsecret delight at the same time. Even though it was quite clear to methat this was the logical next stage that the last few months of my lifehad been leading me to, and knew that I couldn’t go back or escape fromthese men if I’d wanted to, I still felt frightened of the commitmentthey now required of me – to offer every part of me, all day long andevery day, in service as their slave.But all along they had known what I at first hadn’t recognised aboutmyself: that that was what I was, that deep inside I had no wish to havea will of my own, and that the one ruling instinct in my life – the onlycomplete pleasure I was capable of – was my delight in the when sexualpleasure my body was being used for sexual pleasure could provide forothersby men and the accompanying feeling that it was their property.There was no ‘me’ at such times, just my ‘fuckslits’ and they had nopurpose or function unconnected with the sex-thrills they could offer.Three weeks later I moved in. The man who owned the shop was not bynature a harsh or unpleasant Master. Sometimes we would sit over mid-morning coffee or an afternoon mug of tea, and he would chat to meexactly as if I were an employed shop-girl. I would talk of c***dhoodholidays, early memories, family gossip and he did the same.But when certain customers came in his tone would become harsh andstrict. For their benefit he would find an excuse to be angry with me,so he could tell them what a lazy good-for-nothing slut I was, and whata good spanking I deserved.More often than not I would find myself down in thebasement, my wrists and ankles strapped to the lower corners of apurpose-built oblong upholstered ‘box-horse’, my panties lowered and mymouth firmly gagged to muffle my squeals, begging to be forgiven as thecustomers in question laid a riding-crop across my bared bottom.Although there may have been some prior arrangement with the manupstairs who sold me to them, there never seemed to be any limits thesemen observed as far as I myself was concerned. I could scream till mytear-soaked face was purple with agony, but it made no difference to thenumber of strokes I received. The only determining factor appeared to bethe number it took to inflame their cocks sufficiently for them to wantto stop and fuck me instead.The only thing that made the whippings tolerable to me was I couldusually see my scarlet bumcheeks writhing in agony in the room’smirrored walls, and could thereby share the sexual excitement of the menabusing me.Most were naturally reluctant to exploit my helplessness to the full; afew were nightmares of sadistic viciousness, vividly enjoying extractingevery last ounce of terror and pain from my writhing body. I soonlearned to dread the appearance of their faces in the shop-doorway.There was one man in particular who could actually induce me to wet mypanties with fright at the very sight of him in the shop. And, ofcourse, the first time he discovered it, as he laid my skirt up over myback in the little mirror-walled sex-chamber downstairs, he made it thepretext for the severity and cruelty of his subsequent whippings.He would stand idly chatting with the owner, while I would be made toclimb up the little step-ladder to fetch things from various boxes -less because he was interested in any of the articles than because itallowed him to stare casually and blatantly up my short skirt andinspect my suspendered thighs and what panties I wore that day. Andalways after a few minutes he would begin to drum his fingers on thecounter. That ‘signal’ was invariably the prelude to an order from theproprietor for me to go and wait downstairs. My knees would start totremble and knock as I fought not to lose my balance on the step- ladderplatform three feet off the ground. And the man would suddenly say in anice-cold voice:”I wonder if that ungrateful slut has made a mess of the pretty littlepanties she’s given to wear. I don’t know how you can tolerate herbehaviour; you’re kind enough to supply her with nice clean knickers toput on in the morning and whenever I come in the dirty little whore hasusually wet them.”Then, if no-one else was in the shop, and occasionally, to complete myhumiliation, even when there was, the owner would order me to lift myskirt as I stood on the ladder, and show them the state of my undies.One day I had managed to control my frightened urge to pee, but whenthey told me to lift my skirt I actually began to wet myself there andthen, while they watched the stain spreading quickly from my crotchuntil pee was streaming down the insides of my legs.It wasn’t something I did on purpose for the man’s pleasure either; Isimply could not stop myself, knowing what was to come next. But evenso, I still never dared offer any resistance when ordered downstairs tothe soundproofed sex-chamber, nor when told to lie passively over thebox while my ankles and wrists were secured. Like the other customerswho used me, the man had paid, and paid well. And having been sold tohim, I was then his to use until the reflection of his sweating groaningface above my back in the mirror opposite us proclaimed that he hadfinally sated his sadistic urge in my sobbing body.He undoubtedly could only really enjoy sex fully when it felt like ****for his victim. His cock only became stiff and eager to penetrate meonce his protracted whipping had left me so tense and contorted withpain that the inevitable tightness of my bottom caused me even greaterdistress as he forced it to open.The meaning of ‘all day and every day’ quickly came home to me as well.I still served in toilets, and for considerably longer than I hadpreviously. One of my Masters would drop me off at the flat and I wouldclimb up the iron fire-escape stairs with my wet sticky panties clingingto my bottom, my thighs and calves tired from so many hours standingbent over in high heeled shoes while men fucked each end of me. I wouldfall into bed, as often as not still wearing the undies I had come homein. And then, perhaps hours after I had fallen asleep, the doorbellwould waken me in the small hours of the night and a man would bestanding on the metal landing outside the kitchen door:”Your Masters have sold you to me…Cockslut-bitch.” The password havingbeen given, I would have to reply:”I am your property, Sir. Please may I serve you?” and silently open thedoor and lead the man to my bedroom.That was the hardest part of my slavery of all. I always felt mostexcited and most comfortable in the toilets, where I had first learnedmy function. My tiny flat, with the few small possessions around it thatannounced it was my home, was the one remaining island of privacy wherethere were still times when I continued to have an existence independentof my Masters’ desires. And every time I had to lead some man I hadnever seen until that minute through to my little bedroom and thenmeekly offer him my body, it drove home – more forcibly than anythingelse I was required to do – that there was no space, no part of me thatwasn’t at my owners’ disposal.Often I was hardly able to keep my eyes open with exhaustion, and fartoo tired to find any pleasure in it myself. Total strangers would standat my door, and having slurred or spat the words ‘Cockslut-bitch’ in myface, would then exercise their right to my prostituted body, gropingand fumbling me, making me lick their flaccid cocks or squashing theirdirty unwashed bottoms down onto my mouth. At those times my flat becamemy prison cell and I saw with terrible clarity how complete andinescapable my sentence was.Sometimes I would lie, dazed, on the bed just as they had left me, withtheir sperm splattered all over my face, while they hurriedly dressedand departed without a word or backward glance. And frequently I awokethe next morning after such nights to find myself still in the sameposition, the sperm dried to white streaks across my cheeks, chin andneck, my undies stiff and glued to my skin. And as I showered until thejets of water slowly peeled the flimsy nylon from my body, I knew that Imust dress and make up my face once again as attractively as possiblefor the customers who would come into the shop that day. My sense of howthoroughly I had been moulded and transformed into a prostitute wouldcrowd in on me until I would have to wipe the wet streaks of mascarafrom my cheeks and start on my make-up again.What satisfaction could I gain from such a life? The truth was that theoccasional few minutes I spent at my dressing-table in dawn’s chilllight with tears rolling down my cheeks, wallowing in self-pity, werefar outweighed by the hours every day when my prostitution was both mypride and my pleasure. And the very fact that my Masters kept whatevermoney was made from my body increased my satisfaction, confirming as itdid just how absolutely they owned me. I had longed to be used by menfor their pleasure in the way that a girl can be used. It was thatlonging that had led me to the toilets in the first place. That longinghad driven me to resemble a girl in manner and dress in the mostprovocative place there could be. It was no surprise then that I hadbeen trapped and enslaved there. And no greater surprise that theSlavemasters responsible for it would ultimately permit me nothing thatdidn’t serve my function for them. I had wanted to be entrapped as agirl; I was now entrapped by being required to be a girl, 24 hours aday.I inhabited a twilight world of dimly-lit toilets, and basement rooms. Irarely went out of the shop during the day and its lighting too wassubdued. My horizons shrank to the four walls of the places to which Iwas taken to serve. The only pride or ambition I was permitted was todress and make up my face to create as attractive a vision as possibleto the men who used me. And by the end of every day my make-up would besmeared and ruined by the masculine cream it had been applied toencourage, my nylons and panties damp and streaked with signs of thejuice they had been worn to provoke.There were times when I laughed though, giggling in the changing-roomsat the back of the shop with young men as they too tried on bras andskirts. But often they would suddenly let their voices sink to aconspirator’s whisper and ask:”How can you!? How can you live as a whore while the men who sell you toother guys don’t even give you any of the money? How can you live, neverhaving a day when you can just please yourself?”And I would smile and say softly:”But I do. I please myself every day, each time I feel a man’s ballstighten beneath my chin and empty themselves into me. Even when theymake me scream for mercy I experience the pleasure they get in doing so.And it’s only possible if they know I’m theirs – not just loaning myselfto them for a while and then taking myself back again – but theirsabsolutely, their property. Men’s cocks are selfish, and most men aresecretly fascinated by the idea of someone they can use any way theywant. They can only really do that with someone like me. With me theycan let the wildest dirtiest fantasies in their imaginations run riot,and when I feel them experiencing the highest peak of ecstasy theircocks can experience I know I’m living for the only reason that mattersto me. That’s all there is.”And these nervous ‘boy-girls’ or proud drag-queens would shake theirheads, mystified. For though most of them were glad to kneel for men’scocks from time to time, for the pleasure they themselves got from it,none could conceive of the life that required me to stay kneeling untilevery man present had had his share, and done whatever else he felt likedoing as well.But they did not understand the mystery at the heart of my hunger: itwasn’t sex I needed, but the signs of the sexual pleasure my Masterstook in me. I was a slave to their pleasure, not because they hadphysically or and mentally trapped me into a life devoted to it, butbecause I was a slave to my need to my need for their continualsatisfaction and approvalsee and feel the proof that my body had trulygiven them ecstasy. A form of deep-rooted vanity in fact. I constantlyneeded reminders of how much they desired me. And I was ever-curious todiscover every new way they could choose to express that desire.The thrill that I felt had nothing to do with the part of me between mylegs; my Masters had long since bred that response out of me. It wasdeep inside my body, yet not even a girl’s thrill of orgasm either -since, like a man’s thrill of ejaculating, even that was a selfish andprivate form of excitement. My thrill had to be purely and exclusivelydependent upon theirs, not independent of it. Unlike the feelings I hadexperienced in my earliest sessions, my excitement was no longer arousedby what they did to me, but only by the pleasure I could see or feelthem taking in it. Only when I experienced the fullest possiblesurrender to that did I find my own satisfaect| ion and ecstasy glowinginside me like a furnace. And it was their constant invasion of everypart of my existence that re-fuelled the furnace every day, and everyddy XXay at some point stoked it to a roaring white headt that told me Iwas truly alive.ThaXXt was the oddest thing of all: the more aXX creature of theirdesires and whims I became the: more alive I felt. Whenever I was notserving them timXXe dragged slowly past with aXX dream-like unreality.They had drummed into me from the start that my only value to them layin my body, my prettiness XXndand youthfulness. Everything else about memust either subordinate itself to that or cease to exist. And in the endI saw myself as they wished me to: I was my body – and nothing else. Thethings that normal people considered the core of their individuality andfreedom – their m0inds, emotions, chaeracter – were either schooled torespond in ways XXappropriate to my function, or slowly stripped awayfrom me, like layers of an onion. Of course they could never havesucceeded had I not been willing and naturally inclined to become whatthey wanted. But I was. And every day I lived through my body, andexperienced all the heightened physical sensations to which it wassubjected as the most intense form of living.Chapter 5Apart from frequent trips to other toilets so I could be ‘lent’ to thelocal Masters, I began to be taken to orgies at private houses where Iserved as a waitress, dressed in a maid’s uniform. Of course, once I hadtaken people’s coats and served their drinks I was then required toserve in my sex-slave capacity, performing whatever tasks the guestsrequired of me. I wasn’t the only maid at these parties, though I wasclearly one of the youngest, and vain enough to think myself one of theprettiest too.At the first such gathering I was required to do little that I would nothave done in the toilets: I was made to crawl round under the dinnertable while the guests passed comment on how well I sucked their cocks.Later that evening everyone descended to a large basement room, wheretwo of the other ‘girls’ performed a ‘lesbian’ sex-show for the guests.Then one was strapped to a large wooden rack leaning against one walland guests took turns to whip her. As I listened to her muffled criesand squeals of pain I wondered if I would cope any better in her placeafter my regular Wednesday ‘discipline’ sessions with the games-master.On the third party evening, when everyone went downstairs I was orderedto spreadeaglespread-eagle myself against the frame. As I was strappedinto it I was shaking and wet with perspiration. But instead of beingwhipped, as the guests gathered round and watched my stripped boundbody, a tattooist put the words COCKSLUT SLAVE on my shaved crotch, andthen SPUNK WHORE SUKI SLAVE CUNTCOCK SLUT on the cheeks of my bottom. Asthe electric needle buzzed its way painfully across my flesh theonlookers fondled and touched each other, making lewd comments about myuseful functions. I was now marked for life.No thought of protest entered my head as it was done though: I welcomedit. Since they always required me to keep my pubic area waxed andhairless, I would never again be able to undress to take a bath orshower, or even just to go to bed at night, without seeing this visibleand permanent reminder of my status and function. But as well as itsprivate message to me it also had a powerful practical purpose: I couldnever again take my panties or pants off in front of another person,male or female, without them instantly seeing proof of my nature andguessing at once the uses to which I had been put. The tattoos ensuredthat I could never escape into a normal life with someone else byconcealing my previous slavery; the words were too blunt andunambiguous.The tattoos had a third and more immediate practical consequence. Themen at my toilet slavery sessions behaved differently towards me. Thoughthere always seemed to be plenty of men ready to use and fuck mewhenever I served in toilets, and plenty who enjoyed the obviousprovocativeness of my girlish clothes, there were in fact not that manywho actively enjoyed my slave-status as well as my body. Though I wasequally submissive to all, there were few Masters, in the sense of thesmall group who had originally made it their business to train me tototal obedience and submission, whose satisfaction derived as much fromtheir ‘ownership’ of me as from their use of me sexually.But now, when I lowered my panties and bared my bottom for a toilet fullof randy men, the sight of the words plainly tattooed on each cheekseemed to excite an additional atmosphere of sadism and ruthlessnesstowards me. Much more often now, the men I knelt down to or parted mylegs for seemed to find extra stimulation and excitement from the dirtynames they called me, the brusqueness with which they issued theircommands, and the control they exercised over me while reaching theirclimaxes. Whenever I served now, there was a heightened sense of ‘****’in the air; and – as is often true of it – the more men there werepresent the more they seeemedseemed to egg each other on.The tattoos made it crystal clear now that my consent was not required.I was simply there to be fucked, indiscriminately and without anyconsideration, like the cheapest street corner prostitute. The mere factof my being there, dressed in the way I was, gave all who saw me theright to treat me as casually and kinkily as they would a blow-up sex-doll. But an inanimate rubber doll has no feelings or thoughts; the’group’ pleasure now lay as much in its delight at keeping me constantlyaware that I was nothing but a spunking-machine for its cocks,constantly reminded of my own helplessness and inability to avoid theendless penetration of my body.Every session seemed more like a gang-**** now, with the gang’sspectators urging the active participants on to greater lust, while thewhole gang revelled in the humiliation and total surrender of its victim- in seeing her face betray how clearly she had been forced to recognisethat she was merely a thing any and all of them could slip round theircocks and squirt their climactic juice into. And I played up to theirexpectations, somehow continuing to preserve an air of violatedinnocence at each session. In truth, though I secretly adored thisadditional element in the way I was used, there was also still a part ofme that remained, and continued to be, shocked and ashamed at what wasdone to me.It had no power over me – only they did now – but it was therenevertheless. Some remnant of conscience, some hangover scrap ofc***dhood innocence. And even that was put to their service, exploitedfor its perversion-value. Because I knew that it was central to whatthey found exciting about me. From observing the other ‘girls’ at theparties, I knew that it was what distinguished me from other TV slaves.It wasn’t just my youth compared to them, but my youthful innocence andlack of cynicism. I was not some screaming drag queen parody of a woman,but still continued to resemble the blushing nervous shyness ofgirlhood. I didn’t try and ape a girl in my voice or manner, or becomeparticularly ‘sissyish’ – and because of that I seemed to display evenmore true innocence without trying. It was that which they found sodeliciously provocative – that which they took such extreme delight inr****g and abusing so thoroughly.At the beginning of each session I was still mentally a virgin; by theend of each, the most depraved cock-hungry whore. That was the pervertedmagic their cocks wrought on me each time; that invitation to ravish myinnocence was the magic with which I stiffened their cocks into the hardtruncheons they thrust so brutally into me.I was 161 and my face wXXas still fresh, pretty and girlish. But I beganto notice with alarm that a soft downy fuzz was beginning to appear onmy cheeks. At first I waxed them off, just as I regularly waxed my legs,arms and pubic region. But one morning the owner of the shop noticed andremarked on it. He told me not to worry about it as he had some pillsthat would stop it.I began taking the hormone pills he gave me, and within a short time thefacial down stopped appearing. I also noticed that I didn’t seem to needto wax the rest of my body as often either. But after a couple of monthsI began to notice that the pills were having another startling side-effect which delighted me. The skin around my nipples began to softenand swell; IT was developing real breasts.The horromones were actually changing my body into a girl’s, in aprocess I studied closely in the mirror every morning. Until then I hadnever really contemplated the thought of a sex-change. But now I turnedthe idea over in my mind. The conclusion I came to was that I didn’twant one, odd though that might seem. It was true that a centralingredient of my delight and satisfaction at being a slave lay in beingdressed and used like a girl by my Masters. But I also recognised that apaert of their pleasure lay in the fact that they had used that veryfact about me to entrap and enslave meit was a sissy transvestite boythey had trapped and enslaved, to the point where they had been able toforce me to live and behave as a girl all the time for theirconvenience. They had made me into a girl already by how they treatedme. If I actual}ly became one physically they would lose most of theirpower over me: I would be no different from any other girl and wouldthen be able live as I pleased, free and unfettered, in the sex of agirl.But my Masters had trained me well over the previous year; I was now asin love with my slavery as I was with my girlishness. I thought of whatmy Masters would want and the answer was obvious: as long as I continuedto remain physically a boy my little budding schoolgirlish breastscoiled the chains of my slavery aeven more tightly around me.I had still managed to conceal from my parents and the rest of my familyhow I lived, what I did and how I was always dressed for it. So myMasters still had the power to expose me to unbearable shame byrevealing the depths of my perverted sexual existence and voluntaryhumiliation. With no prospect of a complete sex-change, the daily growthof my breasts placed me even more under my Masters’ control. I wasturning into a strange half-maleboy, half-female girl transsexual whoseappearance instantly betrayed his/her primary obsession – someone whommost people must surely despise, apart from those men who found her bodyattractive.The swellings were now becoming big enough to fill a Teenform A-cup bra,and they completed my body’s transformation. Where else could I possiblywork now other than a sex-shop? Who else could I mix with except the menwho wentedwanted my obscenely tattooed hermaphrodite body?When I went out on errands to the other shops in the peradeparade Icould see the curiosity in other people’s eyes, and feel their intriguedpart-horrified stares as they appraised the soft shapes that my raincoatcould no longer disguise. At first I felt the most acute embarrassmentwhenever the shop-owner sent me out for milk or coffee. But I slowlyovercame my shyness, convincing myself that most of the other shop-keepers must have guessed by now what my function and sexual role wasanyway.And of course the same was true of the men in the toilets I was takento, the instant they saw me now. I was now regularly taken to toiletsalready dressed and made-up as a girl, wearing only my rain-coat over myother clothes for the car journey. The moment I walked up the path tothe toilets with my high heels clicking on the cement and my stockingsshowing below the hem of my coat, the men standing at the urinals wouldknow at once that I was there for sex. I would have to go and standbeside them, open my coat and let them examine my clingy top and liftthe little black skirt I wore to fondle my lace panties.My breasts altered the way l felt about undressing. In the past I hadalways been allowed to remain dressed in my girl’s clothes, apart fromlowering my panties. But now I was sometimes made to do a completestriptease for the watching men. Before I would have been crippled withembarrassment at being forced to reveal myself as a boy for them. Ineeded my clothes and my girlishness as an integral part of my slavery.Now my smoothly-waxed skin, the tattoos and , my small pert breasts andthe increased curve of my bottom made it so apparent what a thoroughlyfeminised slut I was that the only shame I felt was entirely the kind myMasters wanted me to experience. I would see the looks on the men’sfaces as I unclipped my bra and let my breasts appear. Then I would turnand slip my panties slowly and enticingly down off my bottom, exposingmy girlish bum-cheeks and the words ‘SPUNK SLAVE’ and ‘WHORE CUNT’COCKSLUT tattooed on them. Then at last I would turn so they could see’COCKSLUT SUKISLAVE’ on my crotch and my small soft willy beneath it.As I stood motionless before their gaze in just a frilly suspender belt,stockings and high heels, I no longer felt the embarrassment I wouldpreviously have suffered at having my boyhood revealed beneath mydeceptively feminine appearance. Instead I felt like a sex-doll, whoseambiguous gender was a deliberate part of her allure, simultaneously boyand girl. But since my tattoos, breasts and smooth pubic area made itunthinkable that I could be of sexual interest to any woman, and quiteobvious that my function was to be a passive sexual slave to men, itmeant that even when I was semi-naked I still felt more girl than boy.The sensation I felt inside as curious hands explored my newly-buddingbreasts would make me run my tongue-tip over my parted lips and thrustout my bottom, to show them how quickly tthbey could arouse my hunger tobe penetrated. My nakedness became as much the symbol of my slavery asmy girl’s clothes had previously.The stark contrast between my own defenceless nakedness and the easewith which they could simply slip their cocks back into their trousersand abandon me to my fate at the slightest hint of danger re-enforced mysense of enslavement and sluttishness. At the slightest sound offootsteps my Masters could always melt into the safety of the cubicles,or just leave the toilets, while I was trapped there and could donothing but pray that the sight of my pale naked stocking-clad bodywould arouse, rather than disgust, whoever the approaching foot-stepsbelonged to.Almost every man who walked in on those occasions was glad to join in,and to my surprise, even those who did not nearly always simply ignoredme. The plain fact was that practically all the men who ever went intothe toilets I served in came there for one reason only – and it wasn’tthe reason the toilets had been built for. After dark especially, theplaces were purely clubs for sex-games. The men in them always arrivedwith hard cocks and spunk-filled balls. and left happy after findingtheir satisfaction.And the part that I played, night after night, in providing so many ofthem with the means to it was my one fulfilling pleasure. All the dreamsand fantasies I had imagined when I was 13 and 14 I now acted out almostevery day, and I wanted nothing else, They had feminised me completely,and every time the juice leapt into my mouth or I felt a cock reach itsthrobbing climax thrust between the cheeks of my bottom I felt nothingbut gratitude to them.And the dirtier or more painful uses they put me to continually re-emphasised the difference between me and the men who used me, Theirdominant games sprang from their maleness; my meek passivity as Isubmitted to them flowed from my complete lack of it. I looked like atart, performed as a whore, and adored both with the abaendon of a bornslut,That was why the dirty things I was made to do by the Rubber Master andhis friends were not only bearable but actually began to excite me moreand more each time. I regularly served the same group of men that hadsqueezed their brown creamy filth into my panties, bra and mouth thenight they made me their ‘shit-doll’. The strange sick thrill of queasyhorror in the pit of my stomach remained as potent as it hedhad been thefirst time the Rubber Master filled my mouth through the harness gag. Nomatter how many times they did it to me I still could not completelyprepare myself for the shock and humiliation. Familiarity had not madethe taste nor thick cloying feel of it in my mouth any less aswful.But what had changed was my response. Like all the other tasks myMasters made me perform for their pleasure, the repetition of this onehad conditioned me to become excited by it. B8ut it was more than that.Serving these Masters in particular always produced the strongest andmost thrilling sense of my enslavement. I had recognised something thatwas central to my nature; the kinkier and more humiliating my taskswere, the more they proved my Masters’ ownership of me. And the mostdisgusting tasks of all combined several different thrills for meFirstly, the fectfact that they had the right to make me do such thingsdemonstrated that I did not exist independently as a person. Mywillingness to perform such uniquely disgusting and humiliating tasks oncommand showed my recognition that I had surrendered any right to allnormal human limits and inhibitions, and proved that my mind was utterlyin the service of my body – and my body was utterly in the service of myMasters.There was another satisfaction for me as well. l knew that mypearformance of such obscene tasks made mstandards of other TVY maids. So the dirtier or more bizaerrely I wasused the more I demonstrated proof of both my value as a slave and thecompleteness of my obedience. I was now so conditioned by, and addictedto, my slavery that I was always excited the most by the prospect of myMasters finding fresh avenues of exploration and kinkier degradations.And I hedhad slowly reelisedrealised that that was precisely what theRubber Master and his friends found so exciting too. Underlying theimmediate physical thrill they experienced when turds slid from theirbottoms into my mouth lay their much deeper delight in experiencing suchtotal power over someone else that they could freely break even the mostinstinctive, natural and sacrosanct taboos in the pursuit of theirsexual satisfaction. What they regularly enjoyed and made me do was justthe outward expression of that desire – the desire to make their victimaware that they felt constrained by no ‘limits’ on the pleasures theymight choose to explore.It was precisely that awareness in me that alwavsalways kept metrembling like a leaf with ecstasy and terror whenever I served them.Though the occasions were not all that frequent, I could expect to besubjected to their dirty games about once a month.They usually liked me tied up thoroughly, though I would have obeyedthem anyway. Apart from their general preference for rubber clothing,vhichwhich indicated the direction of their tastes, what distinguishedthem from most of my other Masters was not just the kinkiness of theirgames but the humiliation they could induce in me in the process.Unlike most other Masters, who were usually quite satisfied to use me inthe same fashion night after night, week after week, with only minorvariations dependent upon which hole they chose to enter, the RubberMaster’s circle constantly sought to devise fresh and unexpected ways touse me. Their pleasure lay in my reaction as much as in what theyactually did. So they were constantly seeking new avenues of perversionto explore, so that I could never become accustomed to my tasks orassume that there were any I could not be required to perform for them.Chapter 6One Sunday evening the Rubber Master came to collect me. He ignored theextensive wardrobe that the shop-owner had provided for me and producedthe things I was to wear. He helped me to put onaon a tight black PVC corset that pushed up my small schoolgirlishbreasts but left them exposed. When he had cinched the half dozen strapsat the back of it he locked them all with small padlocks.The corset covered and flattened my crotch at the front, but dividedinto two straps down between my legs that ran under the creases beneathmy buttocks and up the sides of them, attaching to the waist of thecorset again just behind my hips. He padlocked those straps as well.The effect was to leave my bottom completely naked. Four suspenders onthe bottom edge of the corset kept the up thin black rubber stockings.Then he handed me a tiny pink rubber skirt with an integral canvas-backed belt of scarlet PVC and ordered me to cinch the belt as tight asit would go. I was used to that by then and did the belt up on thetightest hole, pulling my waist in to a slender 21 inches so that theflare of the skirt accentuated the feminine curve of my hips. The skirtwas only 12 or so inches from waist to hem. The effect of pulling thebelt so tight was that the soft folds of pink rubber fell far short ofconcealing my bared bottom.Next he handed me black patent leather high heeledhigh-heeled shoes,with broad ankle straps that buckled behind the heel. He put padlocks onthe buckles, having first slipped the ends of a 12-inch length of thinsteel chain into the padlock loops. When I was dressed to hissatisfaction he looked me up and down.”Re-do your make-up; darker eye shadow, more blusher on your cheeks,something brighter on your lips. You are to look like a street-whoretonight, not some innocent little schoolgirl primping herself up on herfirst date…”His words sent tremors of excitement through me as I guessed somethingout of the ordinary was being planned for that evening. Gazing at myselfin the wardrobe mirror I understood what he wanted of me: my face mustlook like that of a painted porcelain doll: pretty, but bright andunreal. The effect of the clothes was unmistakable: I was to be aslender white-skinned mannequin locked inside an outfit that was ablatant invitation to perversion and abuse, not even a slave, just asadist’s dream doll.When I had finished my eyes shone glassily out of a white gaudilypainted face I hardly recognisedrecognized. He looked satisfied and thenheld out his hand. In the palm of it were two small pink pills.”Swallow them.”I hadn’t the faintest idea what they were but I obeyed him withoutquestion. Then he ordered me to hold out my hands. On each one he putthick black rubber ‘mittens’ with no fingers that came almost up to myelbows and then fastened leather cuffs round my wrists and padlockedthem together behind my back. Finally he slipped my mac over myshoulders for the walk from the flat to his car. I felt jittery andnervous, but also excited as we left. My helplessness was absolute.As soon as were safely in the car he pulled the mac off my shoulders andtossed it onto the back seat. He drove out of London for about 20minutes in complete silence. At several traffic lights men in other carsstared open-mouthed at the strange semi-naked creature they saw in thecar stopped next to them. I gazed expressionlessly back at them as theireyes lingered on my breasts, while we waited for the green.At first I felt no effect from the pills but as the journey continued Ibegan to feel oddly dis-orientated. The street-lamps sparkled withstrange brightness and unnatural colours. My body was hot and clammyinside the PVC corset. But it was an exciting sexual feeling. The d**gwas like a slow continuously-growingcontinuously growing version of thesudden thrill that Amyl always caused me. My limbs felt as light as afeather.At last he turned into a lane that had a cricket pitch on the right sideof it and woods on the left. After a hundred yards he turned left intoan unlit car park on the wooded side. There were several other carss**ttered around in the gloom. He stopped and reversed into a space nextto the pavement, so that the car was facing across the car park to thewoods.At the far edge of the tarmac I could see a light shining dimly throughthe doorway of a small toilet. The Rubber Master leaned over and openedmy door. I wondered how many of the other cars there belonged to men whowere already waiting inside the little brick building in the distanceahead of us. The only relief for me was that it was rapidly gettingdark.”Get out and come round to my side of the car.”I knew where I would be ordered to go. I looked across the car park tothe toilet and shivered as the cold wind blew over my naked bottom andthighs. I had got used to being seen dressed normally as a girl in thestreet near the shop, and no longer felt the slightest shame at being ina toilet dressed in the most wanton fashion for whichever men might seeme. But the thought of crossing that expanse of tarmac dressed as I wasnow still made my skin tingle with shame.Of course that was what the Rubber Master wanted. I would be seen forwhat I was without concealment, perhaps even by courting couples in someof the parked cars, who would stare with amazement at this vision ofperversion. It was only 50 yards or so but the the foot-long chainhobbling my ankles effectively made the distance three times further. Iwould be forced to choose between a teasingly slow amble orand quicklittle mincing steps that would make my naked buttocks jiggle likebeacons below the hem of that tiny skirt.When I reached his window the Rubber Master ordered me to face him,which meant my back was visible to anyone driving from the direction inwhich we had come. I froze as I heard a car come racing along the roadand felt its headlights illuminate me. Its engine slowed but then itsped on past and left me cocooned once more in the gloom of the fallingnight as the Rubber Master began to speak.”You’ve got an appointment in there with some men who’ve paid yourMasters a lot of money for some special fun and games with a kinkylittle whore that no-one’s likely to miss.”My blood turned to icy water in my veins and the warm flutter of excitedanticipation in my tummy became a hard little knot of terror. Even in mystrange d**g-elated state I understood the implication in his words. Hewent on softly:”You are a slave, Suki. We have trained you very thoroughly for anevening such as this. I could easily drag you over there, but I won’t.You will walk in there by yourself, because I order you to. The menwaiting for you know that you will have been told what may happentonight. And one of the reasons why they have paid so well for you isthat they’ve been promised that you will still walk in therevoluntarily, knowing that you may perhaps never walk out again. I say’perhaps’… Don’t assume anything;. I don’t know yet. Probably theydon’t either. But if you don’t come out, your Masters won’t mind. Thefee is sufficient to buy the men waiting for you any pleasure they wishto take from you. Do you understand?I stood there feeling the d**g course ever more strongly inside me as Ilistened to him speak. My initial rush of blind terror was beingconverted into something else; a suspicion that had crossed my mindmonths ago and had grown in secret had now been confirmed. There wasonly one possible limit on my service as their slave, and aownow as Istood on trembling legs in the lonely isolated car-parkcar park I knewthat even that could be crossed at will. There wasn’t a trace of mercyor pity in the Rubber Master’s voice and I knew there was hardly theremotest chance of any innocent casual stranger being around thisdeserted spot at night-time to come to my aid.The odd lightness I had experienced during the car-ride returned morepowerfully now. IrresistableIrresistible waves of exciting warmth spreadout from my crotch and bottom. I wondered vaguely if I had wet myselfinside the clinging PYC and realisedrealised thtthat in my present stateI would hardly be able to tell.”…Do you understand, slut?… Say it.””Yesss…” I whispered softly as I gazed at the toilet throughunnaturally widened eyes.Say you are your Masters’ slave and will do whatever pleases them…tothe last breath in your body.”I repeated the words and my exciteentexcitement grew with every second.The misty night air in the space ahead of me seemed to solidify into abarrier that held me where I was. But the little incandescent glow ofpale-gold light in the distance was beckoning me like a moth morestrongly every second. If I fluttered and danced in its light till Idied what difference did it make? I simply went to the same fate asmillions of moths suffered every night.Now walk slowly across and go in.”My feet began to move. After 10 or 15 yards I realisedrealised the manwas not following me. I heard his car-door open and close. I wondered ifhe was now going to drive off and abandon me, having delivered me tothis rendezvous. I began to feel very vulnerable. My mind refused todwell on the terrifying prospect ahead and instead concerned itself withthe more mundane but imXXediateimmediate risk of exposure andhumiliation I now faced: having to cross this public carparkcar parkdressed so provocatively. I wanted the comfort of the Rubber Master’sstern unyielding presence to guide my feet. At the back of my mind therealso lurked the unacknowledged thought that I did not want to die forthe pleasure of some total strangers without at least one of my originalMasters present to witness my final proof of submission.But I knew this was a preparatory part of my abasement to the will ofthe waiting Masters: that I should have to walk alone, half-naked, un-aided, unguided and uncompelled, across this expanse of public spacefirst, with the cold wind reminding me all the time of the nakedness ofmy breasts and bottom.My eyes flicked round at the other parked cars and I realisedrealisedthat there were shadowy figures inside sonesome of them. I could see thewhite blur of their faces through the misted car windows, and understoodthat my humiliation was being publicly witnessed and enjoyed. My highheels clacked loudly across the tarmac, their height making my whitebreasts jiggle around in the half-cups of the corset bra and my baredbuttocks sway beneath the flouncing folds of the immoderately short pinkrubber skirt.Il was slightly less than half-wayhalfway across when suddenly thetoilet and the woods behind it were lit up in the dazzle of a car’sheadlights. I stumbled and felt a hot flush of panic fill -my face as Irealisedrealised why the Master had not come with me, and had parked socarefully. For a second or two as panic gripped my body I consideredturning aside into the beckoning safety of the shadows. As if to confirmthe hopelessness of escape, from the darkness on either side of me twomore sets of car headlights came on, lighting up the tarmac for 50 yardsall around me.I was trapped squarely in the centre of the three intersecting sets ofbeams, knowing everyone in the parked cars could now see me as clearlyas if it were mid-day. In the distance ahead of me I could see severalfigures outlined in the doorway of the toilet block. I had no choice:with my wrists secured behind my back I could do nothing about the chainrestricting my ankles. Its shortness confined me to the erotic mincingamble of a catwalk model showing off the only important fact about herexistence under the glare of arc-lightsarc lights and the leering gazeof a hundred telephoto lenses.There was no possibility of escape; just like such models – whoseostensible function was to show off their clothes, but whose realfunction was to give what they wore a sexual excitement and glamour thatthe items themselves did not truly possess by associating them with theslender thighs, luscious bottoms, barely covered cunts and perfectly-shaped bobbing breasts beneath them – I too was on a runway, to bestared at, inspected and compared with some mythic ideal of flawlessfemininity. And in my case even the thin pretence of the catwalk wasstripped away: the whore was exposed to her audience of voyeurs, and thelittle that she wore was there purely to heighten the enticing sexualinvitation of her appealing body, not the other way round.This show had been carefully pre-arranged; they had always intended totrap me and force me into parading myself blatantly and publicly on thewalk to my destination. I regained my balance and began to walk on,concentrating on straightening my legs with each step, and letting myhips rise and fall naturally in rhythm with my high heels.The Rubber Master had promised them this and I did not want to faill himby disappointing his friends. And with every mincing swaying step Itook, I knew the thrill of watching me was made ten times sharper bytheir awareness that the whore providing this shamelessly wanton displayhad been told beforehand of the dreadful fate to which her steps wereleading her.The eager-eyed crowd held its breath end waited for the climax of thespectacle: when the whore would mount the steps of the gallows and theycould drink in the sight of her almost-naked limbs performing, with aptand perfect irony, an obscene parody of sexual frenzy, as she paid forher lasciviousness with her life.I heard car-doors softly open and close in the darkness on either sideof me. After what felt like an eternity, but was perhaps no more than 20or 30 seconds, I reached the short concrete path leading into the gents.I paused momentarily to take a breath and clear my head a little. Iwanted to fight off the increasingly seductive effects of the d**g longenough to experience with absolute clarity what I was about to do.Through the doorway I could see shadows on the wall behind it, and knewthere were several men already waiting in there for me. I imagined theircocks stiffening with excitement as they heard my approaching footsteps,and thought of the frisson they would experience when they finally sawme. I saw my life – the strange compulsion central to my existence thathad led me to this doorway. What would I – could I – have changed?Nothing.And in that moment I knew without a doubt that it no longer matteredwhether I lived another 30 years or 30 minutes, but how completely Iexperienced the life that had been given to me unasked. I was what Iwas; no matter how many years I lived I knew that I could not changethat. But as I grew older and less pretty with every passing day, thefunction that I had sought unprompted, and embraced so willingly whenothers spotted it, would slowly become less and less desired by them asI became less and less desirable to them. The longer I lived the less Iwould experience the person I was each day. not the more.I knew now that every cell in me existed – like the unalterable truth ofa mathematical equation – to be a function of the pleasure my Masterscould take in me. If I shied away from what they wanted of me now Iwould truly be nothing, because I would have been turning my back oneverything I was and trying to wipe out the facts about who I was. If Iturned aside now, who would I be afterwards? Even less than a slave,less substantial than a shadow, a cyphercipher. I might look alive toothers but in reality I would already be dead anyway – with nothing, nomemory to mark my passing.No; if my Masters were to have everything, experience every possibilitymy body could offer, they should have it now, while I was still youngand pretty enough to make the thrill of it as sweet as possible. My mindwas clear. I wanted only one thing: to walk into the waiting shadows andimprint their experience of me into the deepest pleasure -centres oftheir brains with unforgettable ecstasy, until I spilt the last drop oflife in my body into the electric air around us. I walked up the path tothe doorway and went in.Chapter 7I opened my eyes and saw white all round me. I was surprised. First,that Heaven looked exactly like the picture-book illustrations. Severalangels shimmered nearby and further off I could even see God with aflowing silver beard – though it was shorter and rather more neatlytrimmed than I would have expected. Second, I was mildly surprised thatmy eyeballs were not being scorched by crackling flames and my earsassailed by the deep-throated laughter of the Devil, e. Especially as Islowly became aware of a general feeling of pain.”He’s conscious.” God came over and peered down at me.”Can you hear me?” asked God as two of His angels disappeared into thehaze. The question seemed strange coming from the Deity. I blinked inanswer, that apparently being the only movement I was capable of.Suddenly everything became clear: I was in a hospital and God was adoctor.”Don’t try to move.” Out of the corner of my eye I noticed various tubeslooping down towards where I lay. “I’ll come back and see you later whenyou’ve had something to eat and are feeling a bit stronger.”After he left I lay there vaguely trying to remember how I had come tobe where I now was. But after a few minutes I fell asleep again. Somehours later I was woken by a nurse who fed me some soup. A few minuteslater the doctor re-appeared. He looked at the chart clipped to the endof my bed and then stared at several machines with flickering screens ona table beside me. After satisfying himself he spoke.”You should be dead, you know. By the time the ambulance got to youthereyou had lost almost 4 pints of blood. That’s nearly half of all youhave. You’ve been u*********s for three days.” I was fully awake now. Myhands were lying on the bed-cover and I noticed dark blue bruise-markson my wrists. I seemed to hurt all over from head to foot, and wonderedif perhaps I had been hit by a car.”Thank you…” I croaked, and once again felt the sameagonisingagonizing soreness in my throat that I had when the nurse hadspoonfedspoon-fed me.”Don’t thank me. I just do whatever I have to with any patient who’sbrought here. You should probably thank the man who found you and phonedthe hospital…Though I doubt if you’ll ever find him; he’d gone by thetime the ambulance turned up…To be frank I’m not sure I’d have beenbothered if I’d been him…”I stared blankly at him. He seemed to be saying that I had been as goodas dead and if he had found me he wouldn’t have thought I could besaved. But…there seemed to be something more in his words.”…You don’t remember what happened to you?…From what the ambulancepeople told me, they think you might have been…partly responsible. Andjudging by where you were found, the way you were dressed, whatcondition you were in, and…some of the things that were brought inwith you…I’m inclined to believe them.”Memories of the previous year and a half of my life began to flood back- the orgies I had been the willing victim of, the Masters I had served,my small flat above the sex-shop, my wardrobe full of women’s clothes.And with a jolt, the memory of the last time I left the flat in thecompany of the Rubber Master.The car park. Me standing in the middle of the tarmac lit up like afairground ride. The doctor registered my face’s reaction to myreturning memories.”My job is to save people…whoever they may happen to be…Privately, Ithink there are some people worth saving…and others who aren’t.””I…I can understand that…” I whispered. “I don’t…blameyou…But…I can’t help…being who I am either.”He looked at me strangely for half a minute, saying nothing, as if hewas trying to understand something.”They didn’t take you there by force, did they…You…wanted to bethere…didn’t you?”I nodded faintly.”You…knew…what could happen to you…””Com…pletely.””Including…?” I nodded again.”They…wanted it…so you wanted them to do it.” He stared at mewatching my reaction closely. “I see. Well, from the way you weredressed when you arrived at Emergency, I’d say you got your wish in onerespect.”I looked blankly at him.”You like being taken for a girl…Well…that’ll be easier from nowon.” I was still mystified. “Your..friends..left you a good deal closerto being one than you were before.” Comprehension dawned and I stareddown the bed at myself. “In fact you’re now as close as you’re evergoing to get. The…ah…’amateur surgery’ they performed was fairlycrude. The Ambulance driver found a length of cheesewire nearby. I hopefor your sake you weren’t intending to have a full sex-change one day?”I was feeling weak and dizzy at the knowledge of what he had told me,but I managed to flutter my eyelids and shake my head very slightly.”Good. Only that takes surgery of a different kind that we’re geared upto perform. And it requires an intact… – and attached – ..set of malegenitals to form a vagina out of the skin…All we could do was sew upthe wound.”He saw the question in my face.”I doubt if we could have re-grafted what was…ahem…removed. Surgicaltechnique isn’t that advanced yet; it’s a very delicate area of thebody. Very complex. And that is assuming one has the .. missing parts.They weren’t found, when you were. The police looked for them after youwere brought here. I think someone probably kept them, as a trophy ofthe evening’s..entertainment.” His face almost broke into a smile at hisown joke. The sight of it made me smile as well, though tears were alsorolling down my cheeks.”They tried to kill you, you know. I mean really. They damn nearlysucceeded too… And you were ready to let them. I – I don’t understandit; I want to…but I can’t…””It’s…it’s my life. I…I…live for them. It made me…happy.” Ishrugged, realisingrealising the impossibility of making him see.”I don’t know…” He smiled again and this time, though it revealed hisown confusion – like a man staring at a mystery – there was genuinewarmth in his face. “…I see all sorts of assorted oddballs- …oh,sorry, tactless of me…the whole spectrum of humanity passes throughhere at some time or other. But you…this!…I mean…you are still ac***d practically. How can you say you wanted it? Volunteered for it.It…it…must have been what they did to you before. We found d**gs inyou.””People – c***dren – hang themselves over exams…do it out ofmisery…at least I…did it for…””Pleasure? Don’t say that. That’s the part I can’t…””But you…you cut people up…for pleasure. You enjoy…” My voicetrailed off into an exhausted croak.”It’s not the same…it’s not the same! I save people’s lives. Yours!Yes, I enjoy my work. But that’s because I’m helping people get well.Your ‘friends’ just sliced you up…for what? For kicks. A nasty sickthrill!””But how could you…could you do what you.. do…unless you actuallyenjoy doing it? Enjoy the cutting…the blood…the mess of..people’sinsides?”He looked puzzled and stared at me again, still trying to fathom somesense out of it. I could see I had forced a long-hidden dilemma to theforefront of his mind.”What will you do? Would you go back to them?” I shrugged, meaning Ididn’t know. “To let them finish the job? I might as well not havebothered…””Would you say that to a mountain-climber, or a pot-holer?””Damn you!…Damn you!!””…probably…” I smiled up at his angry bearded face. For a fewseconds the rage of frustration and confusion boiled in his eyes. Thenhe suddenly laughed.”Yesss…probably all of us…and who knows, maybe me too in the end -for all that ‘cutting and slicing’ as you call it …They’ve arrestedyour landlord, by the way. And several other people.””I..I don’t…want to go back to my parents…not now. Couldn’t…””I can understand that.” he said, meditatively. “We haven’t given themany details so far. Just said you’d been involved in some kind ofassault. Of course they’ll have to know in the end. There’s going to bea trial after all…But I think they’ve kind of guessed a little of thetruth already anyway. The nurses didn’t say anything but I think yourparents noticed your…your breasts.””I won’t testify. That would be… like … saying they were guilty and..I wasn’t. It…it wasn’t like that. I wanted it, everything theydid…I… wanted…””Don’t get excited. You’re still very weak. Get some sleep now. I’ll beback tomorrow…You’re a puzzle to me, young man – sorry, but even withall the changes that’s what you are…to me. And I think you’re wrong -very wrong. But you’re interesting. Not stupid at any rate ..-.. Wellyes, very stupid..dangerously stupid in one way. But not…not a c***d,I’ll give you that. Though what exactly you are now, after the othernight, is hard to say!…Rest now.”With that he turned and left.I spent the next three weeks in the hospital recovering. Doctor Goldcame to see me regularly and we talked a lot. He didn’t want any realdetails, but yet he seemed reluctantly facsinatedfascinated by who, andwhat, I was. He told me about all the different cultures in which menwho dressed and acted like women were accepted and even revered.But he still could not grasp the nature of my willingness to embraceabject slavery as a part of my adopted identity. He believed toostrongly in his own will and ambitions to comprehend someone who couldsurrender theirs so utterly to others’, simply for their pleasure.The police also visited me, and they were far less pleasant. I told themwhat they already knew: where I had lived, what I had done for the menwho used me. But I flatly refused to give evidence at any trial of themen they had arrested. It was clear from what they said that they hadseveral of my original Masters in jail, and I could not – would not -bring myself to sit in a witness box and help imprison them forsomething that had been the inevitable result of all the things I had sobadly wanted them to do to me. Something I had even been told couldhappen, and still walked willingly to it.The detectives ranted and made their disgust for me very plain. Theyeven threatened me, telling me they would show my parents all thephotographs and Dutch magazines I had appeared in. At that I smiledthinly at them and said.”If you do, then you’re no different from the men you’ve locked up.””What d’you mean? They blackmailed you, did they? Showed you thosepictures and said they’d tell your parents if you didn’t do what theywanted? That would fit with what we know.””Did I say that? But you’re certainly trying to blackmail me, aren’tyou? Look at me. Look at these.” I pulled down the bed-covers andexposed my breasts to them. I noticed the young junior detective staringshyly with unconcealed interest. “Do you think my parents don’t knowabout these by now? Do you want to see the rest of me?…Do you reallythink you can threaten me with anything so shocking that I’ll do whatyou want to avoid it?”The senior detective called me few choice names and left, shaking hishead.Dealing with my parents was much harder. I knew that they could nevereven begin to comprehend how I had become what I was. And if they didthey would be unable to contemplate it without feeling some kind ofguilt themselves – though as far as I could work out they were guilty ofnothing.I knew very well that they were to blame for no awful secret in myc***dhood that would have explained my character. I simply was what Iwas. And lying in the hospital I had had plenty of time to rememberright back to my earliest c***dhood. I now recognisedrecognized littlesigns and indications of the future in it, trivial inconsequential gamesand preferences. But nothing they would really have noticed, or havebeen able to do much about even if they had questioned it.Fortunately my father stopped coming to visit me after the first fewtimes. I think the police visited him and – had they only known it – haddone me an unwitting favour. When he began to understand the true natureof the men I had served, and the scope of his son’s ‘perversion’ Ibecame so alien in his eyes that he could no longer bear to come and seeme.My mother continued to though, but she would sit there keeping up banalconversations with me as if none of it had ever happened. She couldn’tbring herself to cut herself off from me completely, but she simplyrefused to acknowledge who I was or what I had done. She just wiped itout of her mind.My older sister was different: she openly confessed that she wasappalled and sickened when she thought about the things I had done. Butone day, after she had got me to admit that I had frequently worn herclothes when I was younger, she said:”I suppose in an odd way I can see why you liked it. I mean, I’ve alwaysliked wearing the things I bought – and I know I used to shock Motherwith how outrageous some of them were. I mean I liked looking sexy. AndI can see…now…that you’re quite…pretty-looking, for a boy. I neverthought about it before. I suppose you used to like making yourself looklike me.””Kind of..though I didn’t imagine being you…if you know what Imean…I didn’t… not for the men-…””Thanks for that. Ugh!” She shivered. “I wouldn’t like to have found outthey were all pretending it was really me all that time…Not with thethings you were doing for them.””No. That’s what I meant. I didn’t, I promise.” I wasn’t entirely surethat I was telling the truth, but I knew she didn’t want to think aboutthe possibility of it.”So you..used to dress up and…what? Pretend you were a sexy-lookinggirl for them?””Yes. Though I decided I didn’t want to become one.””Why not? Isn’t that what all..boys like you want ultimately?””No. They wouldn’t have liked me so much then.””Your…Masters, you mean? That’s what you called them, isn’t it?””Yes…No, then I would have been like you; d’you see? Like any girl Isuppose. Not quite, but almost. Hardly distinguishable. But I wasn’tlike any girl. I was a boy and they always knew it…that was what theyliked. That I was ready to be anything they wanted, just to please them.Anything – including being a girl, even though I wasn’t one. It’s-..Ican’t explain it properly- “”It’s alright. I…I think I understand: being with them…going withthem…made you a girl..and that was enough.””Yes. Yes! That’s it. But it also made me special – someone theycouldn’t find elsewhere. I mean, I wasn’t a girl, but I was ready to beone for them. And, well..I did things..I was willing to do things…things you’d never dream of doing, s*s.””Don’t be so sure of that; I’m not as pure as the driven snow, youknow!””I mean things most women wouldn’t do for any man. Alright, sometimesthey made me do them. But I wanted them to. I was willing to do whateverthey liked, but I wanted them to make me do it as well.””You’re a right little masochist, aren’t you?…You really are!””…I suppose I must be, s*s.””God! A transvestite masochist fairy for a brother! How did I get solucky?” We both laughed.I was frightened of the day when the bandages between my legs werefinally removed. Despite my curiosity I hadn’t been able see anythingeach time they were changed. I couldn’t bear to watch when Doctor Goldremoved the stitches. But at last they decided that my skin wassufficiently healed for the bandages to be no longerneccessarynecessary.I gazed down at myself after he and the nurse had finished. I no longerhad anything between my legs to spoil the outline of a pair of panties.All that remained was a small raised ridge of flesh, with a barelyvisible slit at the top through which I could pee. The result was thatthe still-sore and livid ridge of sewn-up skin looked not unlike thelips at the entrance of a woman’s vagina. But of course there was noentrance there between my legs. I was not displeased when I thought howthat would look to a man when it was covered by some lacy nylon.As the thought struck me so did a very strange sensation: I became alittle aroused and began to blush scarlet with embarrassment for makingsuch a display of myself in front of this young nurse. Then I realisedwith a jolting shock, that there was nothing there to be aroused. Yet Icould still feel my non- existent willy getting stiff. I noticed DoctorGold was gazing at me, studying my face.”Well that answers one question. Don’t be surprised; I expect you’reexperiencing the ‘shadow-limb syndrome’. It’s quite common. Amputeesfrequently continue to feel the missing limb just like it was stillthere. The remaining nerves still send signals to the brain you see.Nurse, what do we do about patients who get inappropriate erections?”She smiled, quite unperturbed.”A swift cold shower I should think, Doctor.””Quite right, nurse! So be warned.” He smiled at me. “Seriously. Try notto encourage that sensation for a while. The skin is still very tenderand that particular reaction sends a lot of unneccessaryunnecessaryblood rushing to the area.Still, I suppose it’s quite an advantage when you think about it. You’llbe the only person I happen to know who’ll be able to have an erectionany time they like without anyone else realising it.”I smiled and the feeling slowly evaporated again. But I was re-assuredby it. I had been afraid that I would be left with no feeling at all,and the thought of a life with no sexual pleasure in it was a bleak oneto me. The nurse left on an errand and Gold suddenly said:”Do you want to continue the hormone treatment they were giving you?”The question took me by surprise. I thought for a second or two, andthen said:”Yes. I will live as a woman when I get out of here. What else could Ido?””I thought so. Come and see me at my private surgery office after wedischarge you. I suspect it may still not be strictly legal because ofyour age. Mind you I’m not condoning some of the things you’ve done -you know that – but I’m not condemning transsexualism either. That’s aperfectly-well recognised fact of life these days – at least in myprofession, if not by the world at large yet. And given your breasts,which wouldn’t altogether disappear now, even if you did stop thehormone treatment – and now your lack of male genitals, I think I’d haveto agree.Short of joining a circus I don’t think you do have much choice ifyou’re to live in the world outside. You might as well go as far towardsfemale now as d**gs can help you to go. At least you won’t be apermanent source of shock to people that way.””Thank you.” He took a business-card from his pocket and handed it tome.”Do you think you could change? Find a normal relationship – well, asnormal as is possible in your circumstances?””I…I don’t know…” I said slowly. “I’ve never tried, have I?””Perhaps you should. You may not agree with me, but I think it would bea pity if you just walked back into the lions’ den again…and did diethis time. You may be strange – stranger than most people could possiblyaccept – but maybe that strangeness is still precious. Or at least worthpreserving. Certainly not worth throwing away as a gift to some evil menfor a few minutes twisted pleasure.”I started to speak but he cut me off.”I know, I know. They weren’t evil; it just happened to be the gift theywanted from you, and you wanted to give it, so you’re with them, thesame as them…But you’re not, you know. You chose to be the victim.There are plenty of those in this world, believe me. And you sided withthem, not the predators. Perhaps that’s what makes you different. Maybethere’s something people could learn from your story. What I’m not sureof exactly. But something…And if you die tomorrow, or next week ornext month they’ll never get a chance to hear it. Think aboutthat…Suki.”He had never called me that before, but of course it had been visible onmy crotch every time my bandages were changed.Chapter 8A few months later, after living in a bedsit while I got my strengthback, I left for Amsterdam and I never saw Doctor Gold again. As he hadpromised, he gave me the hormone pills. Several times over those monthsI sat in his waiting-room demurely dressed as a girl and exciting nointerest from the other patients, male or female, waiting their turns.I made no effort to return to any of the toilets I had served in. Aftera few weeks, when my scars were almost completely healed, I began towonder why – and realised that not all my scars were visible ones. Butlike the ones that showed, they also began to heal. And as they did, thethought of what I would do with the rest of my life, and how I wouldspend it, began to fill my thoughts.At last I made my decision. England had no place for someone like me. Ididn’t ‘fit’. To drive that message home I had several more visits fromthe Police. On the first they voiced their disgust with me and myfailure to give evidence at the trial loudly enough for my shockedlandlady to give me notice to quit.I complained and they were more tactful – or at least more circumspect -on their subsequent visits. But the message was clear. For the firsttime I was frightened of the Authorities. Before, that fear had onlyprovided an extra frisson of excitement to some of the things I was madeto do by my Masters. But now I realised just how contemptuously the’System’ would treat me if it found the opportunity. Finally I left.I now work in a bar – ‘The Candy Club’ – in one the back-streets ofAmsterdam, along with several other TV prostitutes. Like most of theother ‘girls’ I live in one of the little rooms upstairs provided by theowner. There are closed wooden cabins at the back of the bar, and aslong as the owner is paid his cut he does not care what we do for thecustomers when we take them there.Though there are a few complete transsexuals, most of the rest are pre-op and many have regular boyfriends, and are only working there to getenough money saved to pay for surgery. That means that there is quite alot of bitchiness and rivalry, especially among the prettiest SouthAmerican ones. But there is a generally accepted code that the customersmake their choice and one girl does not try to poach another’s clients.But there is a small ‘inner circle’ – called the Wild Girls by theothers – who have no boyfriends and for whom the money is largelyincidental. I quickly found myself one of them. We are the ones whoplace no limits or restrictions on what we will do for our customers,since our chosen identities are inseperableinseparable from our urge tosubmit and serve. The Wild Girls are my only friends now.In the small hours of the morning, after the bar has closed we sitaround in our little cubicle-bedrooms doing each others’ hair orpainting our finger-nails and swap stories of the things we have donefor men. Like all the other girls who work there, some of the Wild Girlsare post-op, some pre-op and some are happy simply to remain TV. Whatbinds them as friends is not the state of their bodies, but their sharednature. But my body was a surprise even to them.When they first saw me naked they were intrigued by my tattoos and my’sexless’ body. As I had hoped, the line of scar-tissue between my legshad healed nicely into a soft pink ridge of flesh that looked and feltconvincingly like vagina-lips through a pair of silky panties. But weare not shy in each others’ presence, so they soon saw the truth thatlay beneath the little strip of nylon between my legs.They all touched me softly there to find out what it felt like. And whenI explained how it had happened, and all the circumstances surroundingthat last orgy, I saw silent amazement and a strange respect in theireyes: my body was proof that I had been willing to go further than eventhe wildest of the Wild Girls in my quest for submission andenslavement. To the very edge and beyond it. I frightened them: I hadshown them where our natures should ultimately drive us to – the finalact of submission.And I shocked even them by some of the things I was prepared to do forthe customers. Like me, a few of the men who frequented the club stillfound the greatest thrill when having sex in a toilet. Though the ownerdid not really approve they were prepared to pay more to take a girldown the corridor at the back of the bar and into one of the graffiti-covered cubicles of the dimly-lit Gents, to have her there. Most girlswould not do it, since they knew they were less safe there; the cabinswere at least adjacent to the main bar itself and the doorways to themwere only partitioned by a heavy black curtain. But the toilets were 25yards away, round at the back of the building and no sound carried fromthem to the bar.One evening I let two men take me to the toilets. When they finally leftone of the other Wild Girls came to look for me after a few minutes. Shefound me kneeling slumped over the toilet, my ankles and wrists tiedwith rope, my panties tied over my face keeping one of my stockings -which the men had filled with their shit – in my mouth as a gag, andwhip-marks and cigarette-burns all over the back of my thighs andbottom.The other girls looked after me as I lay in my bedroom recovering overthe next few days. But they also told me that I was making things moredangerous for them, since some customers would start to think they coulddo that sort of thing to any of the girls. Despite the pain from theweeping lacerated flesh below my waist I told them that I could neverrefuse to ,atisfysatisfy a customer’s whims since that was what Iexisted for. Indeed it was the reason I had left England. I said that ifany other girl didn’t trust the man, or men she was with she couldalways offer me to them instead and I would give her a fair percentageof their fee.Finally they agreed on a plan. A few weeks later the same men returnedto the bar, and of course picked me without hesitation. Once they had metied up in the toilet, with a huge dildo strapped into my bottom and mymouth filled with shit, and were ready to begin torturing me, several ofthe other girls slipped away from the bar. They came in with knives intheir hands and cornered the two men. They told the men they could stilldo whatever they liked with me, but they must pay an extra 500 Guildersfor the time I would be off work. And the girls would not let them leavethe club until one of them had been in to check that I was alive and notcut-up badly. The men agreed and paid up. Then the girls left me tothem.But of course the men were quite angry at being trapped and forced topay more money like that. For the next hour they made me scream andwhimper in pure agony as they made me dance on the end of a rope tied toa cistern-pipe above my head. When they finally left me, I was sittingon the floor, trembling with shock, my excrement-smeared head lollingback on the edge of the toilet and my face and hair dripping with theirsperm. A minute or so later one of the girls came in to check on me.I saw the dismay and horror in her eyes slowly changing to fury, batman escort bayan but Ishook my head weakly. She bent down and I whispered:”I’m alright. Let them go.” She stared at me for a second and thenshrugged and left. A couple of minutes later she returned with two ofthe others and they carefully unbound me. They slowly helped me to myfeet and supported me while I washed my face as best I could in thedirty little basin in the corner of the Gents. A man came in to use thetoilet while they stood guard over me and one of the girls screamed athim to get out. He stumbled back out of the door, looking stunned atwhat he had seen.I took over two weeks to recover that time, but the bar-owner didn’tcare; he had done better out of that one night than I normally gave himin a month. The other girls, even the Wild Girls, were too alarmedthough. They told me a few days later that they had warned the men neverto show their faces in the bar again. The strange thing was that a fewdays after that night a large bunch of flowers arrived for me at the barwith no card. All the other girls denied having sent them and we couldonly conclude that they were from one of the two men.Our suspicions were proved correct a couple of months later. One of themen returned. At first he was very nervous and sheepish, since he wasobviously frightened of the girls. But I told them it was alright andtook him into one of the ordinary cabins with me. There he confessedthat he had been just as shocked by the other man’s capacity for sadism,and he suspected from hints the man dropped that he had actually killedsomeone in the past. He said he had stopped seeing him after that secondnight in the bar, but he wanted to go on seeing me.He became one of my regulars after that. He still liked taking me intothe toilets and abusing me, but he didn’t burn me with cigarettes andthough he could still make me scream with pain he never kept me that wayfor more than a few minutes at a time. And he never left me in the statethe girls had found me in that second time. I began to look on him inthe same way as I used to regard my English Masters. He had to pay ofcourse, but I never charged him much more than the bar-owner’scommission, so he knew that in effect I was his slave.I have been at the bar for 5 years now and, like all the girls, I nowhave a ‘core’ of regular clients. Unlike the other girls’, most of mycustomers like to indulge in the more way-out and bizarre sex- games,since what attracts most of them to me is their secret fascination withmy mutilated body and the circumstances which caused it. It seems to bea magnet for all the most sado-masochistic men who come in.For a while that was something of a problem for me, because some of themen wanted me to be dominant, which I found impossible: it just goes toostrongly against the grain of my nature and original training. But Idiscovered a solution. One of the other Wild Girls, a very prettyblonde-haired French girl with a petite body and an impossibly innocentelfin face, actually loves whipping men.Her mother died when she was 6, and from then on her father made herdress as a girl and fucked, whipped and abused her for the next 8 years.She finally killed him, and after 3 years in a juvenile institution shecame to Holland. Although she had loathed her father’s cruelty to her,she had come to accept and love the role he trained her to play, andfinally had a full sex-change.She usually wore skintight black leather jeans and jacket and lookedlike a rock star. And the two of us would usually manage to satisfy themen whose sadism found its perfect expression in the things they did tome, yet whose masochism demanded that they be made to suffer for thatwicked pleasure at Nathalie’s hands. We often found working togetherlike that more profitable than taking customers alone.One of our first ‘joint’ customers wanted us to go into the toilets withhim. Nathalie didn’t mind since she also often took customers there -though in her case it was usually to stuff some panties into theirmouths and whip them until they screamed for mercy. Once we were inthere he asked Nathalie to stand on the toilet seat with her back to usand her legs apart, so that I could bury my mouth between her thighs andlick her vagina while the man squeezed and pinched the tender fleshbetween my legs, and then began to whip me.As the leather thongs started to sting my bottom I thought of Nathalie’sfather and all the things he had done to her for so many years; I foundmy hands between my legs, clutching involuntarily at the clitoris-likeswelling next to the slit that was all that remained of my willy. I feltmy imaginary penis stiffening with excitement.After a few minutes like that the man asked Nathalie to choose myhumiliations. She looked at me questioningly, and I just gazed at thefloor in demure submission. But it wasn’t neccessarynecessary: Nathaliealready knew enough about me – my history and what I was ready to do formy customers – to know that I would submit without question to anythingthat this man might enjoy watching. She got down from the toilet andordered me to bend down so my hands could grip the back edge of theseat.”Would you like to fuck me from behind…while I whip ‘er?” Shewhispered in her attractively French- accented English. “The ‘arder youfuck me, the ‘arder I whip Suki’s bottom.””Oh yes!!” whispered the man.”Alright. Each time you mek me moan wiz pleasure…I’ll mek ‘er moan wizpain.”He went behind her and as he sank himself into her belly she began tosting my cheeks with the cat-o-nine-tails. Each time his thighs slappedagainst the backs of hers on his inward-stroke she lashed out with thewhip. Within a few minutes he was grunting and panting with pleasure andNathalie and I were moaning in different ways. Yet each painful stingingstroke was sweet as well.The fact that this fragile creature, both considerably smaller andlighter than myself, now had me in her power, and was clearly enjoyingthe combination of the pleasure she was receiving from behind and thepain she was inflicting in front of her, thrilled me more than anyprevious whippings I’d suffered. My pain was a direct consequence of thesexual pleasure the man was giving her, and in direct proportion to theamount of it. And his enjoyment of her was sharpened by that fact, as hewatched my cheeks reddening over her shoulder.Each time he thrust deep inside her c***dlike body and made her moanwith delight, he was immediately rewarded with the sight of my nakedbottom erotically squirming and wriggling in pain – as if it was hiscock that was wielding the whip and my response was one of pleasure, notagony.I wanted to hear him make Nathalie come, so that her squeals of delightwould mingle with my own. But she had other ideas. It soon becameobvious that she was no longer interested in separating the customerfrom his money as speedily as possible and sending him on his way. Shewas excited too, and wanted to make it last. She stopped whipping me andsaid:”Kneel on the floor facing us, Suki.” She slipped herself off the man’sstiff cock. Then she stepped over me and turned round so she could siton the toilet. From her leather jacket she produced the wicked- lookingdildo she sometimes used on submiss -ive customers. It was made of blackrubber and about 10 inches from its tip to the realistic rubber balls atits base. The man looked at her inquiringly.”I want to see ‘er really ‘umiliated. You understand, oui?” He noddedeagerly. “I caught zis dirty bitch doin’ it wiz my boyfriend last week.”We both knew it was a complete lie – she had no boyfriend and wouldn’thave wanted one – but it had the desired effect on the man, and Iadmired Nathalie’s inventiveness.”Make pee-pee in ‘er mouth.”He stepped forward and put his knob between my lips.”You swallow all of eet, you ‘ear Suki! Or we wheep you so ‘ard you sinkyou die!”He had obviously had quite a lot to drink earlier and the warm liquidkept gushing down my throat until my stomach was swollen and as tight asa drum. At last he finished.”Now you- ” she pointed at him “You turn round. Mek ‘er lick yoube’tind.” He did as she ordered. As I began to lick his hole she leantforward above my head and began to whisper in his ear. She showed himthe dildo and he nodded excitedly. Then he shook his head. She whisperedlouder and I could hear her stern tone.”You do eet! I want eet! You do as I say. I want you mek ‘er take eet.She deserve eet, dirty biche!!..You like zat, yes? Feel zat leetletongue right in your ‘ole? Is nice, oui?” She had her free hand round infront of him and was obviously rubbing his cock now. He murmured withpleasure. “You push ‘er down on zis just when you do it. And I will siton yours zen. You come in me zen. Zat’s good, uh?””O.K.” he said. Nathalie leaned back and then bent down beside me. Ifelt her slide the dildo beneath me.”Now, you get zis where it can go up you, you dirty boyfriend-stealin’putain. Zen we see ‘ow much you like fuck wiz real big one up you!!”I was becoming wild with excitement. I gripped the base of the thingbetween my heels and sank gently until I felt the tip settle between myburning-hot bumcheeks. Nathalie slipped round in front of the man.”You like zees? You want me slip myself down your cock?””Mmmm…Ugh! Yes! Yes!!””Do eet zen! Now! DO EET!!”I felt the man’s anal ring begin to form a pout round my tongue and knewwhat Nathalie had told him to do.”Now! Oh yes, push ‘er down on zat cock! Go on, force eet right upinside ‘er an’ fill ‘er mouth as well. I want her dirty!! Youunderstand!? I want zat bitch cryin’ and filthy! Do it NOW!!”I could hear the excitement in Nathalie’s voice, the hunger to feel mereduced to a sobbing humiliated heap on the floor as she reached herclimax. So could the man: he was panting and crying ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ andthen I heard Nathalie give a long soft wail of pleasure. Her extraweight on his lap pushed his hips down and forced me to sink onto thedildo. I gasped as I felt it opening me and rising inside me. Thensuddenly the flesh pressed against my lips parted and a long thick warmturd slid into my face.Nathalie began bouncing up and down on the man’s lap shrieking withdelight and her motion made his bottom squash my cheeks and forced me toswallow some of what was in my mouth. I gasped with pain as the rest ofthe rubber column sank between my cheeks but in my head I was alsoshrieking with ecstasy. I could feel pee begin to trickle and then gushfrom my slit over my calves and ankles. And suddenly I was swept byuncontrollable orgasmic waves of pleasure, made even sweeter by thegroans and squeals of climax coming from above me.At last they were still and Nathalie got off his lap. She asked him ifhe wanted me to lick him clean but he said no and stumbled out into thenext cubicle. As we heard him cleaning himself up Nathalie stood facingme. She smiled down at my dirty face and whispered:”Swallow eet…I ‘eard you come…now you pay for eet, eh Suki?” I kneltthere, painfully conscioJsconscious now of the size of the thing pluggedin my belly, the taste in my mouth and the wetness of my stockings. Iwas no longer aroused sexually. The smooth flawless skin of her flattummy gleamed a few inches from my face; as she rubbed the man’s juiceback and forth between her legs. I could have got up and left; after allwe were simply partners in a business transaction, both just prostitutesfor the customers. But suddenly I wanted to see Nathalie’s face wreathedin pleasure again. I wanted to please her. I remained where I was andforced myself to obey her.She did not come again, but instead I saw her face filling with a deeperkind of pleasure, something secret and more important to her. When I hadfinished she stroked my lips and cheeks softly, gently smearing theman’s juice over my face.After that we became very close friends, and I enjoyed the things shemade me do for the customers as much as she enjoyed getting me to dothem. Each time she would dream up a different reason why I deserved thehumiliations she encouraged the men to heap upon me, and we would oftencollapse with laughter later on in our bedrooms as we elaborated on thedetails of my latest ‘crime’ against her. They often involved her ‘makebelieve’ boyfriend.She would never have dreamed of wanting one in reality though: theunforgivable memory of her father meant that she would never havetolerated the impositions and compromises of such a relationship with aman. For her the games we played with the customers always involved somemeasure of their own humiliation as well as mine. The pleasure she tookalways depended on them serving her in some way.I found myself drawn to her more and more. The surgery between her legshad been a masterpiece of artistry; the smallness and perfection of herbody was a source of envy to me – envy and worship. She combined thefirm slender body of a c***d-woman of 13 with the rapacious sexualappetite of the most jaded nymphomaniac, and reminded me powerfully ofthe fantasies that had first awoken me to the nature of my own needs. Iloved being an essential ingredient of her pleasure as she let menpenetrate that delicate body of hers.She would not suck them, nor let them enter her bottom, as both theseacts reminded her too strongly of those years of subjection andsubmission she had unwillingly offered her father. She once told me thatone of the reasons for her sex-changesex change was to create an openingin herself that her father had never entered and now of course nevercould. She confessed to me that each time a man came in her vagina sheexperienced an elating thrill of revenge on her father. But herrestrictions on what the customers could do with her meant that I wasstill required to serve their cocks in the two ways I adored whenever weworked together.For her part she found my body exciting as well, for two reasons. Hertransition from boy to girl was complete: both mental and physical.Despite my breasts and the emptiness between my legs I still had signsof the boy visible in me.She liked that, since – unlike her convincing and beautifully formedvagina – the scar between my legs was proof that I, a male, had beensubjected to the most extreme and sadistic form of humiliation of all -castration – which appealed to her innate desire to dominate. And yet Ialso reminded her of what had been done to her; it was as if she couldre-enact her c***dhood, only this time with me as her and her as herfather. Of course my own submissiveness meant that I found as muchpleasure in her commands as she did.One night, as we were lying on my mattress whispering the secrets of ourpasts to each other, she leant over and kissed me. Not harshly orgreedily but with a slow lingering eroticism. I felt a stinging behindmy eyes and a feeling throughout my body as if I were growing wings andsoaring up to the sky. I sensed a mystery unfolding inside me.I felt – forgiven…Chapter 9To our own and the other girls’ amazement we became a couple. There wereseveral other ‘lesbian’ relationships among the girls. They were ascommon among our circle of transvestite and transsexual prostitutes asthey were between female ones, though there was frequently anundercurrent of crude sexual conquest and exploitation in several ofthem. They were less common among the Wild Girls though, with our moreobvious need for the sexuality of men to satisfy us. And both Nathalieand I were considered the most unlikely partners in such a relationship:in the past we had both made our feelings clear with flat rejections ofthe the overtures of other girls.Yet there we were exchanging the secret language of love in our glancesas we sat in the bar with the others, waiting for customers to pick usout for company. Perhaps what made us different was that our newfeelings changed nothing between us outwardly. There was no jealousybetween us: neither of us changed her manner toward the other.Wwe knew that neither of us could satisfy the other sexually on our own,so the only sex we shared was that which we provided for our clients.There were only two exceptions to that: the few minutes after a clienthad left, when Nathalie would sometimes prolong her own pleasure and myhumiliation. But though we often touched each other in the most intimateways for a customer’s enjoyment, we seldom if ever touched after theman, or men, had finished and left us alone.The other exception – and only time we ever truly touched each other aslovers – was the occasional long lingering kisses in my or her bedroomvery late at night. Neither of us ever wished or asked for more – thosekisses by themselves seemed sufficient to bear both of us up on a floodof feeling, to a peak of happiness neither of us had ever known in ourlives before. We made no attempt to excite or arouse each other at thosetimes. We had no need to: the electricity flowed freely back and forthbetween our bodies unbidden.We demanded nothing of each other socially either, each having her ownpreferred circle of friends among the other girls who worked there.Everyone knew that our convenient ‘business’ partnership had subtlychanged into something more, and a few of the sillier girls made coarseremarks about us at first. But the more serious ones, and especially thefew whose similar relationships were central to their existences and thesaving grace of their lives, told them to shut up. Sometimes we did noteven share the same intimate friends at night after closing time. But itmade no difference: the bond between us was unspoken, seldomdemonstrated, but quite unshakable.Yet that never prevented Nathalie from taking me into the toiletsback of the bar with two men, tying me up thoroughly, perhaps evensuspending me in my high heels with a noose round my neck attached tothe overhead cistern, whipping me for their pleasure until my face waswet with tears, and then handing them the dildo-whip and saying:”Do as you like wiz ‘er. Mek ‘er do anysing zat you want. She mek zeother gilsgirls angry because she is a teasin’ bitch ‘oo don’t alwayssatisfy ‘er customers properly. She need a good lesson, oui?”Then she would leave me to the mercy of the lust she had aroused, andcould sit happily chatting with the other girls or customers in the bar,knowing that just a few yards away I would be screaming for mercy,pleading for my whipping to stop, or begging them not to ram the lastfew inches of the penis- shaped whiphandlewhip handle up into mytwisting agonised body.Likewise, she might be a few feet away from me in one of the cabins,close enough for me to hear her moans of ecstasy coming from behind thecurtain, as she experienced peak after peak of pleasure transferring herslit back and forth between the cocks of two men – and I would feelnothing but joy that my lover, my love, was enjoying her own body sothoroughly.But in all the ways that now mattered to us – the ways of our hearts -we made each other complete. That did not make us ambitious for adifferent way of life: we had both made our separate choices long ago,and neither of us wanted to be anywhere other than the bar, doinganything other than what we did for our living. But now the secretloneliness which all the girls at one time or another suffered from -caused in large part by the choice we had all made to be what we haddiscovered ourselves to be – and which a few of the girls would nevermanage to escape from, had vanished from Nathalie’s and my life.One day she was killed, apparently in a hit-and-run car accident. Laterwe began to hear rumours that the police thought the driver was someonewho knew her, and other rumours that there were more marks on her bodythan a simple road accident would account for. My life went black.I felt it should have been me that died, not her. She had knownhappiness for so few years of her life, and in my worst moments ofdespair I doubted whether she had even found it with me. At first Icould not work, always seeing the face of the driver of the car in thefaces of all the customers who came in. I was sure that if someone hadkilled her deliberately it must be someone we had seen previously in thebar.The other girls were very kind to me, giving the owner money for my rentand something towards the commission I wasn’t earning. But in the endthe owner insisted that he would have to let my room to another girlunless I started earning my full share again.One or two of the girls tried to cheer me up by offering to takeNathalie’s place, but I rejected them – both as partners for thecustomers and privately. I don’t believe any other girl could take herplace. I knew her and that is enough. But in the long days thatfollowed, the hours I sat in my room silently weeping, I slowly realisedthat of all the men who have had me, even including my original Masters,none had ever really owned me fully.Only Nathalie – small beautiful delicate Nathalie with her wild blondelion’s mane of hair and laughing mocking eyes – had achieved that,without even trying. Because she had been the Mistress of my heart andsoul as well as my body. That is why I cannot bear to work with anothergirl. The men I do not mind any more: as usual I become their plaything,their robot-slave. But to touch another girl in any of the ways thatNathalie and I touched each other would be to betray her.Chapter 10That was a year ago. I know what my future will be now. The bar-ownermakes all the girls test regularly for Aids and we all know anyone whotests positive must stop working in the bar. Most of the girls are verycareful to take precautions, more to protect themselves than theirclients. But all my instincts and training conditioned me to believe mybody exists for men to empty their sperm into me, I know how much itdiminishes their pleasure to have to use condoms, and how much greatertheir thrill of dominance is when they feel their spunk pumping down aslave’s throat or deep inside her bottom.I long ago resigned myself to the inevitable and anyway, I have nodesire to see my own prettiness and youthful figure fade until I becomea parody of what I am now. I have seen plenty of older TV’s sitting intheir windows in Amsterdam still plying for trade: grotesques withthickening waistlines and too much make-up. I dread that.I have just had my last test result back and have already made my plans.I gently wormed more information out of my regular Dutch Master – theone who who came back, so guilty and embarrassed, after that night I hadbeen abused and burned in the toilets at the back of the bar. I couldtell from his manner whenever I questioned him that he was scared totell me more, since he obviously had his own suspicions about howNathalie had died. But at last he gave me the number I wanted.I telephoned the other man, the real sadist, and told him I wanted tocome and see him. He was very suspicious and told me to meet him in acafe at first. When we met I could see from his penetrating stare thathe felt he knew me, but couldn’t remember where from. That didn’tsurprise me: I was sure he had probably made lots of TV and girlprostitutes suffer in the past. To him we were all just slaves, prettybodies, nothing more.Without letting him know which bar I worked at, I said that friends ofmine had told me he liked rather more extreme games than most brothel-girls would allow. I told him that I was naturally very submissiveindeed and had been looking for someone like him for a long time. Hebegan to show more interest, but still treated me cautiously. We weresitting in a cool dark corner at the back of the cafe. IexposxRgxthexhiXXxkxiacoxtopsxofxmyxXXt crossed my legs and let my shortsilk skirt lay where it had fallen up my thighs, exposing the black lacetops of my stockings and my scarlet suspender-beltsuspender belt.He glanced down and took in my slender white bared thighs. Then his eyesnarrowed and he said:”What are you? In this city it isn’t always easy to tell.””I am a prostitute – of course. A…transsexual…””You’ve had the operation then?””…Not exactly but I am…effectively a girl…”Seeing the curious look on his face, I slowly uncrossed my legs and letmy knees remain open. After a swift look around him to check he wasn’tbeing observed, he took the invitation. His hand snaked up my skirtbetween my parted thighs and he squeezed my pantie-crotch hard. Keepinghis hand still thrust between my legs as if he already owned me he said:”You’re post-op..what do you mean?””We can’t talk properly here. Take me back to your place and I’llexplain fully.””And how much will this ‘explanation’ cost me…whore?””You don’t understand, Sir. Not a penny. My original English Masterstrained me as a slave first, and as a prostitute later. And they onlydid so to make me accept even more completely that they could doprecisely as they wished with me, including selling me to other men whenthey chose to. I am only a prostitute now so that I can continue toserve…real Masters…when I come across them – Masters who know whatgenuine well-trained slaves like me are for…”I eased my weight off the seat slightly and thrust my hips forwardagainst his hand, inviting it to explore deeper in my crotch beneath mybuttocks. Through the lace of my panties his thumb was rubbing thelittle grooved slit just below my pubic bulge that Dr. Gold’s surgeryhad created for me to pee from. I suppressed a wince of pain as hesuddenly pressed his nail hard into my flesh there. Simultaneous -ly hisfingers slid downwards, seeking the entrance to my bottom.”My customers pay of course, but they aren’t Masters, just men wantingrelief, or diversion from their wives. But I never forget what I reallyam. And…ahbh!..when ever I meet a real Master I do not expect him topay a penny, since I know he will recogniserecognize me for what I am -a born slave by instinct and training…ahhh!!…” His fingernails dugcruelly into the flesh around my hole. “…and a slave is not paid. Aslave is a slave…she must obey…and serve.”His curiosity was aroused by what his hand could feel between my thighs.”So..how did this happen..slave?” His hand was like a claw in my loinsby now.”I can’t tell you properly here. Take me back to your place and I willtell you every detail of how it happened. When you have heard it I thinkthat will convince you that I could be very…sweet to play with…”After a few seconds, during which he studied my face carefully, hismanner suddenly changed and became brisk and decisive.”O.K. Remain exactly as you are now.” He withdrew his hand, sat back andlit a cigarette.”We’ll go when I’ve finished my coffee.”I remained absolutely motionless, with my skirt rucked up a little andmy knees still parted as they had been when his hand was between mythighs. I noticed out of the corner of my eye two men sitting at a tableby the far wall beginning to take a mildly curious interest in me. Mychair was almost facing them. I was sure he had noticed them too. In anatural way, as if he just wanted to stretch his legs, he pushed hischair back. They now had a clear view of me.”Close your legs, whore.” he hissed softly, smiling as if we were simplymaking polite conversation. “Put your hands on your skirt. Now slide itup a little. Don’t look down…Higher, slut…Higher.”From where my hands were resting on my thighs I could guess that thescarlet ‘vee’ of my panties must be visible to the two watching menacross the room. He turned and grinned at them. Then he turned back andcalmly stretched out the hand in which he held his cigarette. The wasnow about an inch of ash on the end. He held it a few inches above wheremy thighs met my crotch and tapped it lightly. The ash dropped betweenmy thighs. I felt the heat sting me briefly, but did not move. Then helowered his hand until the glowing red tip of the cigarette was almosttouching my skin an inch from the red nylon. I sat there, pushing myfingernails harder and harder into the sides of my thighs as the littlecircle of burning heat in my crotch quickly increased. The cigarette-enddipped briefly and my left thigh twitched at the intensity of the briefmoment of shocking pain.”I told you not to move, slut. Smile at me.” I turned my head and smiledsweetly”Take the cigarette, blow the ash off the end and then hand it back tome. Keep smiling.” I did as he had ordered. Once again he brought theend down between my legs and belly. The warmth turned to stinging heatagain. Then the same agony shot through my right thigh for a second. Isat there trembling.”Pull your skirt down, whore. That’s what you get for showing yourselfto strangers in cafes.”He paid for our coffees and we walked out, leaving the two men open-mouthed at what they had witnessed.He ushered me into the living-roomliving room of his smart modern flatnear the centre of the town. Apart from an aL obvious taste for leatherfurniture there was no hint about his apartment of his privateinclinations. -“So..what’s this story you want to tell me?” He said.I walked to the middle of the room and began to recount thedeatilsdetails of that final wild night in England 5 years earlier. As Ispoke I slowly put my hands up my skirt and slid my panties down to myknees. And as I got nearer to the end of what I could remember from thatevening I lifted my skirt up round my waist so that he could see thescar between my legs. During the 20 or so minutes it took to tell Icould see his eyes beginning to sparkle with unconcealed excitement as Ispoke of the men who were waiting for me when I entered the toilet, andall the things they did to me before I finally lost consciousness.When I finished he was staring at me, breathing hard. I went on.”If it appeals to you to…’arrange’ me…the way those English Mastersdid, then in the next few weeks – a month at the most – I will ring youto tell you I am ready to come and be your slave on any night you chooseduring the following week.And on the night you order me to come to you, I will become yourproperty…absolutely your property…to do whatever you like with…”My fingers caressed the little ridge of redder flesh running up mybelly. “…for the rest of that night. You can take me anywhere youwish…use my body any way you like…” While continuing to strokemyself, with my free hand I began to unbutton the front of my neatlypressed cream blouse until I could pull it open and reveal the red lacebra beneath it that matched my panties. As I went on speaking I gentlypulled down the cups and exposed my small white hormone-induced breasts.”…All night long if you choose…”I could see from his trousers that he was already deeply aroused at theprospect.”There is one…condition however.” His eyes instantly narrowed tocrafty slits of suspicion again. I could tell at once he was expectingme to impose some carefully-thought-out pre-condition that would assuremy eventual safety while at his mercy, and knew he was already preparingto agree to whatever it was, knowing he would not keep his word.”..that you will promise me – and swear it now before I leave – thatonce you have ‘arranged’ me the same way those other men did, youwill..do….what they failed to…”His eyes widened with surprise. Had he understood?”Promise that before daybreak…I will die like that servingyou…Sir…”His face froze for a few seconds as what I had said slowly sank in. Myalmost whispered final words floated in the silence between us; for afew seconds I thought I had misjudged him and wondered if he was aboutto throw me out. But then the corners of his mouth turned up into a thinsmile and he said with slow emphasis:”Do you mean that…or is it just one of the lies you use to turn onyour customers…whore?”I gave him a small sexy smile in return, although I wasn’t feelinganything at that moment – I was much too busy studying his reaction tomy proposal – and moved my fingers up and down the little raised ridgeof flesh in my crotch.”Doesn’t this prove how serious I am? Perhaps you think I was lyingabout how it happened? Surely you don’t think a doctor did this?…””No…” he said. “But..you could have been taken there by force…tiedup so you had no choice…””I told you: I was tied up. When I walked across that car-park my wristswere fastened behind my back…like this.” I said in a soft whisper, andslipped my hands behind me, letting my skirt fall down again. “And myankles were chained together so that I could only take littlesteps…like this.” I walked across the room towards him. “Right acrossthat car-park…at the age of 17…with all those headlights on me…allthose men watching me walk into those toilets…And when I was told to,I begged them…to turn me into a girl. The night I become your propertyyou can make me beg you..to do whatever you want…And if you maker methe promise I’ve asked, then we’ll both know that you have no reason tohold back from enjoying any..personal whims..you may have… beforekeeping it.” I whispered, feigning excitement in my voice.I could see his desire to believe me was overcoming his suspicion.”That’s what my first Masters trained me to believe from when I was14…that if I was truly a slave, and my Master was truly a Master, Ihad a duty to give him everything I had to give… everything …and hehad the right to take it…”He asked if I minded anyone else being present. I said it was up to him:I would be his property and he could share me with anyone he chose. ButI warned him that inviting more than one or two others to be presentmight spoil the outcome of the evening, since I was sure that one of themen who had been there the night I was castrated had been responsiblefor calling the ambulance and saving my life. If he chose anyone else heshould be sure that they wouldn’t spoil, or try to interfere with hisplans for the final part of the night.When he heard that, I could see that at last he was convinced I wasgenuine about what I was inviting him to do.He reached out and closed a thumb and finger over one of my nipples. Hisother hand lifted my skirt and slid between my thighs. I shiveredslightly as a thumb and finger closed on that little ridge of flesh andbegan to squeeze there. He started to speak, and as he did he confirmedhis ex-friend’s suspicions about how far he could go.”So…you really want to be my property…my slave…Well, you’re prettyenough.. .and your body interests me…” Between my legs his finger andthumb squeezed harder until my hips began to quiver. “I’ve had boy-slaves and girl-slaves before. I’ve made boy-slaves behave likegirls…and made girl- slaves tremble till they wet their panties withfright…like a little girl does when she’s being ****d…But I likeTV’s. Boys who know they ought to be girls. Because they know what slutsthey really are. They know they deserve whatever they get. Isn’t thattrue, whore?”I nodded gently.”Yes. I know exactly what you bitches are like…and what you need. Iknow just how randy you boy- whores can get when you’re tied up good andtight. You love it, don’t you? When you’re totally helpless and and knowyou can’t escape. When you don’t know what will happen to you, but knowyou’ll have to take whatever you get..whether you like it or not. Youwet yourselves and even mess your panties with fright…but you love itall the same, don’t you?” His fingernails were like knifepointsknifepoints now, stabbing at my nipple and in my crotch.”Don’t you!?””Y-y-yes-sis-sis-sis…” I gasped through chattering teeth.”Sluts like you were born for men like me to enjoy. Most of the men whogo to boys like you…boys in panties and high heels…don’t realisewhat you’re for. They haven’t the faintest idea what they could reallydo with you. They don’t understand what utter sluts you are right downto the soles of your high- heeled shoes, do they?But I do. I like to make you sluts give me everything you’ve got. You’regoing to burn up just like a firework round my cock..when that rope isround your neck. And you’ll be begging for it, I promise you…beggingme to empty my balls into you while the rope is strangling you and youknow you’ve only got a few more seconds to live. You’ll use the lastbreath in your body to beg for my spunk to shoot inside you. . . “Despite the pain rippling through my body my expression remained one ofpanting open-mouthed eagerness.”Do you know how I know that, slut?…You’re not the first boy-whorewho’s asked for it. I’ve made three other bitches like you creamthemselves to death on my cock. Like you, two of them asked for it. Butall of them were begging for it in the end. Even the one who didn’t knowbeforehand that that was what I wanted her for…even she finally beggedme to keep her swinging from the rope with my cock stuffed up her arseand feel the little bitch twitching herself to death on it. And you willtoo…that’s all you kinky little tarts are fit for, isn’t it? It’s theonly thing you’re good for, isn’t it?”As his cruel eyes stared into mine and I began to let him see the painand fear inside me, the image of Nathalie floated into my mind. Iwondered about the third victim he had mentioned – the one who hadn’tknown beforehand that she was gopinggoing to die to satisfy his sadisticlust. More than anything I wanted to ask him if he had been responsiblefor what had happened to her, but I was frightened that that would scarehim off. And from the things he had said – I had no more doubt now thathe was telling the truth, just as he had none about the reality of myoffer – I felt sure I already knew the answer.He was cruel enough to have tortured and killed her in revenge for hishumiliation that evening in the bar, as well as for his own pleasure.But why give myself to the very man who had taken Nathalie from me? Icould imagine all too easily the nightmare horror of her last hour asthe memory of her hated father had returned, re-embodied, to terrorisethe last moments of her life. And I knew, if the third victim wasNathalie, that he had lied about one thing. She was not like me: shewould have fought and struggled for life like a cornered hell-cathellcat.But I was not like her. Perhaps if I had died instead of her she wouldhave grieved for a while and then forgotten me; I did not mind that, butI couldn’t feel like that. Without her I felt my life was already over.And with luck I would take my revenge on her murderer. Even if he wasnot, it was obvious that he could easily have been. But I would give himwhat he wanted from me first. My years of training were too deeply-ingraineddeeply ingrained for me to deny him that. And what he had saidabout ‘boy-whores’ was no less than the truth about me at least:something inside me had been waiting for someone like him – the sameurge that had made me walk across that car-park in England towards myfate on that night years before.But I hoped I would have my revenge for Nathalie’s death after my own: aslow lingering wasting illness that finally sapped his strength and lefthim gasping useless curses that he had ever set eyes on either of us.The few minutes or hours of torture and horror she had suffered would berepaid a hundred-fold as he was forced to watch his own life slowlyshrivel and shrink.But first he would have the thrill I knew he wanted my body to provide.The thrill that we both knew my body could be made hungry enough tooffer and even beg for. He understood perfectly why I had told him aboutthat night in England; he himself would have been happy to have been oneof the men waiting in that toilet for me. And he knew that I could neverforget the butterfly-swarms of excitement and terror inside me as Iwalked through the paly-lit doorway of that remote isolated toilet andfound myself surrounded by half a dozen rubber-clad menLast Chapter…, hooded like Medieval executioners.Nor the ecstasy of panic and surrender I felt as they forced my d**ggedstumbling feet to walk into the unlit rear part of the block, where thecubicles were, and saw, illuminated by the eerie light of the moonstreaming through the high narrow windows, the noose dangling from abeam above the toilet-bowl of the middle one.My knees turned to jelly as I saw that a small wooden box’step’ hadalready been placed in front of the toilet so that I could be made tostep up onto the seat without any need to lengthen the chain between myankles, denying me even a remote possibility of turning tail and fleeinginto the night. Out of the corner of my eyes cocks were visible allround me. Sensing them as I stared up at the noose, I felt it drawing metowards it like a magnet.The imminent prospect of that rope around my neck was what had stirredthe blood in these anonymous men’s veins and stiffened their cocks inanticipation. I should have been squealing and begging them to releaseme, yet I did not. Instead I stood there, trembling but silent.The Rubber Master and his friends had long ago trained me to accept thatI was a ‘no limits’ slave – that I must submit without question to thewhims of whoever I was serving. But more than that: tThey had made itclear that I existed as a slave specifically for Masters who wanted toexplore the furthest reaches of the kinkiest perversions of all, a. Andsubmission alone was not enough: it was my duty to encourage them toabuse me as fully as they wished.In other words, if I sensed that anyone I had been ordered to servewasserving felt any inhibitions or qualms about what they wanted to do tome, it was my duty to use any mixture submissiveness, provocativenessand even impudence I thought was appropriate, to dispel those feelingsand to overcome any their scruples they might have about abusing me. Iexisted for my Masters to seek and experience the summit of their ownpossible pleasure; if anything in my manner put them off reaching thatgoal then I had failed in my duty as a slave.The Rubber Master had made it clear what could happen to me tonight. Iknew what where my submissiveness- ion training was now taking me closertoleading, with every passing second. But even my previous 3 years ofhumiliation and slavery might not have kept me from begging for mercynow, were it not for the hunger to serve these men that was filling mybodye with buzzing adrenalin. It wasn’t just the effect of the d**gstill flowing round my veins either. As Dr. Gold subsequently told me,thait was nothing more than a moderately strong sexual stimulant, on itsown incapable of making me want to suppress the most natural andfundamental human instinct of all – selfpreservationself-preservation.The terror I felt in the pit of my stomach at the shocking thing I knewthey were preparing me for was real enough. .But it was that very shockingness – the sheer utter depravity of theperverse thrill they wanted from my body – which now also thrilled memore deeply than anything I’d ever experienced before, a sexual thrillso powerful and intense I was almost in a faint.From the moment I took those first frightened steps through the woodsbehind my parents’ home – a half- naked boy dressed in nothing but highheels, stockings and undies, flitting nervously along the forest paths -something inside me was waiting for strangers’ hands to grab myreluctant virgin body and hold it down to be ****d. That same urge ledme to the toilets where it finally happened. I had been ****d many timessince then, ****d until it no longer was ****. But that inner hunger tofeel the shock of my own violation was still as strong as ever. By nowthough I had already been abused by hundreds of Masters in everyconceivable way, and subjected to every kind of perversion andhumiliation their imaginations could devise. What fresh violationremained? What avenue of submission was still unexplored?There was only one possible answer: the most shocking violation of all,the most comprehensive **** of all – to feel my very life beingorgasmically jerked out of existence, simply to satisfy the urgentmomentary sex-thrill some strangers’ cocks would get from the act; to beused and then disposed of as casually as a rubber sex-doll. It would bethe final, unarguable proof that I belonged to them utterly, the surestdemonstration that I existed for one sole function: to make their cocksshoot.In the past I had avoided dwelling for long on the logical possibleconsequences of my enslavement, and now I recognised why. On someinstinctive level I had always been aware of, but preferred not toacknowledge, I had always known this day must inevitably come. A Thethoroughness of ll my previous slave-trainingslave-training had all beena preparation for it. But aAs long as I lived my Masters wouldconstantly need to find new ways of confirming my submission and testingthe completeness of my acceptance that I was their property. Even if Ididn’t wake up with the thought at the forefront of my mind everymorning, I knew deep down that a night would eventually come when Iwould be required to prove that my subservience submission to theirsexual appetitesm was so absolute that I would do anything to satisfythem – literallyeven die to please them.This evening, in that lonely country toilet-block, – sufficiently remoteand isolated for them to feel completely confident that there would beno unwelcome interruption – as these hooded men explored the most taboosexual fantasy of all and experienced the exquisite thrill of their ownunfettered power over their victim, my body would slowly fill withterror as I came face to face with the true meaning of my own slavery.On occasions in the past I had felt some fraction of what I was nowexperiencing, when I thought that Masters who were abusing me might getcarried away and go too far. But this time it was different: the outcomewas not merely ato be an possible accidental by-product, but deliberate,intended, and certain. Indeed, their desire to watch me dying was thecentre and focus of the sexual tension I could feel emanating from allsides. The death of this slut ‘girl’ standing before them was the reasonthey had come, the thing they had been promised, and the reason they hadcome. Tthe silly little randy bitchwhore knew it too – knew she must dieto trigger off their orgasms – and was already wetting herself withexcitement at the prospect.The cool breeze around us buzzed with the electricity of anticipation.Butterflies of fear swarmed through my body with such intensity I felt Imight melt at any moment. Despite the chilly night air my body wasglowing with strange warmth. Glancing down, I saw – rather than felt -pee streaming down my inner thighs and calves. A weird ecstasy of terrorfilled me as the steam rose from my legs and the pungent smell of myhelpless fright and loss of control wafted through the space. My terrordid not spring purely from what I was now sure they were going to dowith me, but equally also because a part of me – the major part -I knewI wanted to be their victim of this final violation as muchkeenly asthey wanted one as the men around me needed one for it.During the teasing eternity of seconds they made me stand in thecubicle-doorway and stare at the noose dangling from on high, Ienvisaged how I would soon look to them, jerking and wriggling on theend of that rope.; I could picture their excitement mounting as theywatched my pink rubber skirt begin to fly up round my waist and revealmy naked bottom performing an obscene dance as my shiny black-corsettedcorseted body began to twist and turn in frenzy. I could guessat the erotic charge they would get from seeing the silver moonbeamsshimmering on my drenched stockings, contrasting so dramatically withthe pale white skin of my bare thighs above, as my slender bound legstwitched and trembled in a parody of the throes of orgasm.And I could imagine their thrills increasing moment by moment to anorgiastic peak of ecstasy as their pretty little slut-victim’s helplessstruggling body reached an frenzy of terror, until the stranglingtightness of the noose summoned forth an answering tightness in theirown balls, brought them to fever-pitch and sent jets of sperm flyingfrom all directions. And if I was lucky, I knew that the last thing Iwould ever see was that pulsating ring of erect cocks erupting inclimax, splatter -ing my legs and body and pelting it with creamy whiterain.That thought was like a finger hypnotically and irresistably beckoningme on to my fate. The part of me that naturally wanted to live to seethe sun rise again was a weak distant piping voice – : that of astranger I no longer was and barely remember -ed. Far louder andstronger was the voice of the slave I had slowly and voluntarily becomesince I was 13 years old, telling me through every tingling nerve in mybody that I was filled with hunger longing to see those eyes glitteringwith excitement and wild abandon through the holes in their hoods, and .She wanted them to become so aroused that desire drove out every otherthought until the need to satisfy their lust became unstoppable. I Shewanted to share thXXethe thrill of their power and the heat of theirorgasms in the only way that I she could, the way I had been trainedfor: as its victim!I wanted to know, before they began, that there was no escape, no goingback, and so that nothing else remained now but for me to beg them to doit. I wanted to know I was going to die for their orgasms; and I wantedthem to know that I knew. No misplaced feelings of mercy must spoiltheir coming pleasure. They must know that I understood what they wantedme for, and had accepted that it was natural and right for me to submitto it: their desire was the only justification neccessarynecessary.I felt as if I were in a dream-worlddream world: I was nothing but apretty little fantasy, a scantily-cladscantily clad faun conjured up bytheir imaginations. The clothes hugging my body were apt signs ofsubmissive perversion: a bizarre androgynous nymphet in shining blackPVC and a pink rubber micro-skirt, like a glassy-eyed mannequin doll ina sex shop window inviting men to entertain the most lurid secretthoughts in their heads. When their mutual appetites had been sated thenI would disappear like a puff of smoke. Like some esoteric mathematicalformula for conjuring magic, I had become simply a function of theexcitement pulsating in the veins of these cocks; my existence wouldlast no longer than the erections all round me.Just Exactly as I had once glimpsed briefly in my imagination yearsbefore, I now stood before the altar as the priests prepared theirblades for a ritual as old as the mysteries of the human psyche: theurge to be like gods. To kill a victim for no other reason than theirown whim. The more deliberate and terrifying they could make the ritualfor their victim – the more he or she accepted the inevitability of thecoming nothingness – the more powerfully would beat their own life-force. They wanted to conjure up the most awesome force in all Nature -the inescapable power of Death itself – and feel it brush their sleeves,yet leave them untouched. They would witness the final firestorm – theheat-death of the Universe itself – and yet still escape. They wouldstill be alive afterwards, when death had reduced their victim to asimple conjuctionconjunction of slowly cooling atoms.In that recognition of their motives, I understood something else withblinding clarity: they needed me, more than any Masters I had everpreviously served. Any one of them might leave and not change theoutcome. None of them was individually neccessarynecessary for theexperience that all of them sought, but I was.There at the very centre of my own slavery was the only satisfaction Isought or wanted. It had been the satisfaction driving me to submit toall the cruelties and perversions my Masters had inflicted, the thingthat had drawn me to the Rubber Master like a moth to a candle: the moreextreme and unpleasant his friends’ use of me became the more Ifulfilled my own urgent craving to be needed in ways that only I alonecould satisfy. And now, when there was no future left for me but theremaining hours of this single night, that desire returned withoverwhelming strength: there was nothing left to think about but how tomake my deathXXasdeath as erotic as possible, so that each of them wouldremember me forever as the most perfectly subservientexciting slave theyhad ever ownedused.That was what made me shake with terror now: not the noose above me, butthe shocking knowledge within me of my own desire to embrace and conniveatonspire in my own death. From my own slave’s perspective, tTheprospect of it excited me as much as it did them! The thought of howkeen their pleasure would be at the moment of my death was sendingalmost unbearably exciting signals to every nerve in my body. Tonight myMasters would lead me – willingly or not – to the very edge of aprecipice marked ‘submission’, and finally push me off into an abyss ofterror, a tumbling free-fall into eternal slavery.TrXXeirheir low voices around me brought me out of my own privatethoughts, back to the reality of what was happening. As they casuallyappraised my clothes and figure it was clear where their inclinationslay.”…skinny little moppet looks so sexy…””…little schoolgirl-slut…””…nice legs on it, like an 11 or 12-year-old…””…all wearing rubber and PVC at 10 and 11 these days. Cheeky littlecockteasers…””…teach their tight young pussies a fucking lesson they won’tforget!…”A bottle of Amyl was held under my nose. After a few seconds its effectcombined with the d**g I already had flowing round my body. I couldsense the nervous anticipation in the air around me, and even in my ownaroused state I could detect in their eyes glimmers of unsureness aboutthe strength of tiXXirheir determination to take things as far as theyclearly wanted to.Behind my head someone began to speak in a soft low voice, filled withpassion and sadism:”You cockteasing little schoolgirls are all the same, aren’t you? Underyour squeaky-clean school uniforms you’re really nothing but mischievouslittle whores, all of you, with your tight pink fannies begging to befucked and filled to the brim with spunk! We’ve all seen cheeky moppetslike you before..on swings in park play-groundsplaygrounds, flashingyour panties at men for the fun of it. And you all think it’s such agame opening your legs coming down the slide so we can see right up yourdresses..getting us all steamed up seeing the way the cotton strainsround your little bulging cracks…Well, it’s time you were made to showoff your randy little schoolgirl bum and wiggle that fuck-slit bulge inyour knickers between your legs to our satisfaction for a change – “The moment had arrived: I knew my reaction now might sway them one wayor the other, either sealing my fate or perhaps making them feel guiltyand shame-faced at the enormity of what they had been intending to do. Igazed round at them and moved my hips very slightly in a slowprovocative wiggle.”I can tease who I like. All the girls in my class like love to flashtheir knickers in the park at men like youand tease dirty old wankerslike you. We love seeing how hot and flustered you get just before werun away and leave you with that thing in your trousers poking throughthe front of them. It makes us laugh when we see how hot and flusteredyou get dirty old men like you slink off red-faced, trying to pretendyour cocks aren’t hard from looking up our dresses and you weren’twatching us in the play-ground…. We all know you’re too scared to dowhat you’d like to. I’ve even gone into the bushes, knowing a man wouldfollow me and spy on me, while I lifted my skirt right up round my waistand touched my fanny-lips through my panties..Once, when I knew twodirty wankers were watching me just a few feet away, I even slipped myknicks right down round my anklesto my knees and , squatted down with myback to them and did a pee with my feet apart so they could seeeverything between my legs. I knew they could see everything between mylegs cos I could hear them rustling in the bushes and whispering. Then Iwhipped my panties up again quick and left them there with sore cocksand aching balls while Iand ran off to tell all mygirifriendsgirlfriends about them. We all waited for them to come out ofthe bushes, and we stood around giggling and pointing at them. Theylooked like they’d never been so embarrassed in all their lives.You’re just like them. I’ll show you what I show them…And I bet youdon’t dare lay a finger on me, any more than they ever do..Men are sostupid. I’m not afraid of you!”Then I bent forward and really wiggled my bot.”As if the noose, the cuffs on my wrists and the chain on my anklesdidn’t exist, I skipped onto the step and then up onto the toilet-seat.My back to the men, I stood with one foot balanced on each side of theseat, bent forwards and wiggled my bottom enough to make the hem of myrubber skirt flick back and forth.”See it, did you!?…Get a good look at my 12-year-old crack, you dirtyold perverts!?…That’s all you deserve…and all you’re going to getfrom me!!” I straightened up and turned round, with a defiant look on myface. Instantly the atmosphere changed: my words had had exactly theeffect I expected. The half – dozen pairs of eyes were now staring at mewith a new and vicious intensity. Hands gripped my ankles and voicescame from all sides.”We’ll see about that, you little fucking cock-teaser…””..You insolent little tart!..””…God! What a little fucking whore! Quick! Get the straps round herknees and ankles. We’ll teach this cock-teasing moppet what her fuckingquimslit is there for!…”…That cheeky little bum is just beggin’ for it! This time you’re notgoing to run away just when we’re ready to jerk that cute little moppet-bot onto our tools, darling…”I was made to stand balancing on the front edge of the toilet-seat andthe belts went snaking round my ankles and knees. The helplessness Ifelt as they were being cinched tight was an aphrodisiac to me. Mybottom began to squirm with dread and excitement.”…Yeah! hil All these little cutie schoolgirls think they can get awaywith flashing their arses at guys and skip off when they feel like it.And this little teasing tart sounds like the worst of the lot..Thinkyou’re so precious no one can touch your baby-smooth muff, your littlefuck-slit, your tight little juicy untried cock-tunnel, girl!!? You’regoing to change your tune in a minute or two. Look at my cock, youfucking whore!! In a few minutes time you’re going to wiggle your bumand slit for as long as we feel like it…” His eyes sparkled withmalevolent lust as he went on. “…and when your striptease has got ourcocks good and hard we’re all going to **** your tightXXlittletightlittle 12-year-old hole and fuck you silly till your belly’s swimming inspunk, you insolent little fuck-slut BITCH!!…” His voice dropped to awhispering hiss of unrestrained glee. “…You’re not going to get thechance to cock-tease any more men after tonight, baby-slut…becausewhen your belly’s full of our spunk-cream and your dirty little gang-fucked vagina is red-raw and dripping with it, one of us is going to ramhis cock up your aching hole one more time…and keep you dangling onthat rope with your quim-slit clinging to his shaft until you creamyourself to dbeath on it…What do you think of that, bitch? Get herready for it..”Hands gripped me from both sides and lifted me into the air. Someonestanding behind me on the back of the toilet slid the rope round myneck. Then I was lowered again and felt the noose-knot slipping untilthe rope became a gentle pressure round my throat as my feet found theirbalance again.”Now let’s see how well you can tease our cocks, moppet-whore! Show usall how much you’re begging to have someone’s cock drill your cheekylittle schoolgirl arse till you’re squealing for mercy, bitch!…Go on,make the cock-teasing tart dance for us!”Panic and dread began to rise inside me, choking the breath in mythroat, as I felt hands grip my hips from behind and start to pul1pullthem backwards. The more I bent at the waist the tighter the noosebecame round my neck and the harder it got to keep my balance on theshiny plastic toilet-seat in my high heels.Suddenly my feet slipped from under me and dangled over the toilet-bowl.My bottom began to flutter with involuntary terror as the rope went tautround my neck and cut off the air to my lungs. For a few seconds I justhung there, my body refusing to give them what they wanted while my mindfought to control the urge to struggle. My lungs began to burst as theoxygen in them became exhausted. Then in an instant my will snapped andmy body began to twist and thrash in an effort to get another breath. Iwas overwhelmed with fright at what was happening to me – I was going todie and I wasn’t ready to!!All around me there were leering eyes, hands rapidly rubbing cocks andgasps of delight as my feet struggled to find the edge of the toilet-seat again. I was dimly conscious that my hips were jerking back andforth obscenely, making my rubber skirt fly up round my waist, and sawmy tormentors hands quicken their wanking strokes in excited response.I was aware that the harder I struggled the more aroused they werebecoming at the sight, and desperately wanted to stop, but couldn’tfight my own instinctive desire to survive. Everything began to go blackbefore my tear-filled eyes.For a second or so I thought I must now be dead. But then my visioncleared as I returned to consciousness and, with icy fingers of terrorsqueezing my thumping heart, I realised I was standing on the seat onceagain, still surrounded by these rubber-hooded sadists. Hands wereholding my slumped body and someone had loosened the rope a little.Their voices floated up to me, as if from a great distance.”…Fuckin’ wonderful!!..””…sexiest sight I’ve ever seen…” “…almost shot my load when thelittle slut nearly snuffed it…””Fuck yeah! Kinkiest fuckin’ thrill I’ve ever ‘ad…””…on my cock next time she’s jumping about like that…”Hands were stroking my thighs and bottom and squeezing between my legs.A voice behind me rasped out:”You’re going to swing again in a minute, little bitch-doll. And if youbeg me nicely then I’ll stick my cock up your arse and fuck your belly.If you squeeze it tight enough with your fanny it may stop you frombeing strangled until after I’ve finished spunking up your hole, slut.”His hands began to drag me backwards off-balance once again. I thrustout my bottom, desperately seeking his erection. I felt his flesh pressbetween my cheeks. With a quick jerk he pulled my bottom onto his knoband at the same instant the tightness round my neck and in my bottomincreased as my body-weight pulled the rope taut and the rest of theman’s shaft immediately slid into me to the hilt. For a few seconds Idangled there, my body singing with terror and ecstasy as I felt thesharp pain from the tip of the man’s cock buried deep inside my stomach.Then once again my body began its instinctive fight for air. My bottombegan alternating rapidly between clinging to the cock thrust inside me- literally clinging for dear life and support – and fluttering wide-openness as all normal muscle-control, all my deepest c***dhoodconditioning, was swept away by the impossible task of somehow freeingmy neck from the noose that was slowly strangling me. In this ultimatesexual game they had managed to devise a way of making my hole by turnsas soft and yielding as the wettest and most elastic vagina, and thenmaking it suck as tightly as the hungriest mouth.Distantly I heard the man behind me begin to moan and felt the jerkinginside me become frenzied. Then I found myself standing on the toilet-seat again and my bottom was sore and empty once more. I had satisfiedone Master but all the others still remained, and the atmosphere ofdepraved excitement at what they had just witnessed was tangible allaround.Time after time I was made to re?eatrepeat the process, then revivedagain, choking and gasping, only to discover that a different man hadtaken the place of the previous one. And each time I was ordered tothrust my hips back until I lost my balance again, I did so withoutstruggling to avoid my fate, knowing all the while that the more men whocame in me, the less there were left before the final one…The rope-burns round my throat, the flame in my bursting lungs, thesickening ache deep inside my belly caused by the longer cock-shafts andthe rawness of the gaping bruised hole between my legs had all coalescedinto a welter of pain that filled my whole body. I heard a faint sobbingsound and dimly realised that it was coming from me. I was longing forthem to finish me off so that the pain would stop. But instead they nowkept me steady on the toilet-seat for several minutes. Slowly the worstof the agony began to subside until my quivering knees were at last ableto support my own weight once more.My heart sank like a stone dropped into a pond as the man who seemed tobe in charge of the spectacle got up onto the seat behind me. His wasthe biggest cock there and I could feel the tip of it brushing againstthe backs of my stockinged thighs without him needing to pull my hipsbackwards at all.”Now then, little bitch, are you sorry for all the men you cock-teased?…Well?””Y-y-yessir…” I whispered.I thought I detected a small gleam of hope that they would be satisfiedwith what they.had done and would release me. I had been brought to theverge of death five or six times by then. But now that the worst of theagony I had been feeling a few minutes before had worn off I couldn’tsuppress my relief at still being alive. My feelings were mixed though:they had made me want to die, but now that feeling had ebbed away and Ifelt a bitter pang knowing that a small but important part of my ownwill still remained independent of my Masters’ wishes.”Tell them what the cunts of little moppet-schoolgirls like yourself arefor.””…F-for..m-m-men to…f-f-fuck and f-fill t-t-t-to the brim with…s-s-s-spunk sir…” I croaked, through chattering teeth. I felt his handsslide round my hips and his fingers ease themselves under the tightblack PVC of my corset. I hated the sensation as his hands began tofiddle with exactly the part of me that all my training had taught me toforget existed. For at least two years now I had thought of my body inmy own mind as being that of a girl. The fantasy-role I had been playingthis evening was one I was now so familiar with that I often sucked mythumb in bed at night, and my room in the small flat above the sex-shopwas filled with dolls, cuddly toys and other indications of a pubescentschoolgirl’s presence.I felt something cold between my legs and then a sudden tightness there:he had arranged a loop of thin metal wire round my willy and balls andthen yanked it taut.”I like little schoolgirls, tart. They make my cock go as stiff as ironwhen I think about pushing it slowly up their sweet little virgin slits.I like to feel an 8 or 9-year-old moppet really flipping her lid andgoing wild when her cute little skinny belly is as tight as a drum roundmy shaft and she can feel my knob right up inside the middle of her bodyfilling her with my spunk. What’s so lovely about little girls is thatthe more they squirm and wriggle to try and get off your cock, the nicerit feels and the harder you want to **** them…”Listening to his deadly calm emotionless voice close to my ear, Isuddenly knew with icy certainty that this man was going to be the last.He was the one who intended to to feel me ‘creaming myself to death’ onhis cock. There was no hint of shame or conscience in his voice as hecontinued: he really seemed to believed that young girls and boysexisted purely for the thrills their bodies could provide him with.”…I’ve made seven little tarts like you jerk their lovely littlehairless cunts and bums to death round my cock already, four girls andthree boys..it’s the best thrill by far in the whole fucking world!!When you’re r****g a moppet’s quim girl or some kinky little boy whoreally wants to be on=, e, and they know they’re about to be strangled,their holes gets so fucking hot and tight…it’s the sexiest feelinground your cock..nothing else even comes close to it!!”Freezing tentacles of dread wrapped themselves around my wildly thumping”heart; I was certain now that I had only a few more minutes to live. Mythroat was dry and choking on a desperate urge to scream and beg them tolet me go, but I was shaking with fear so badly that I couldn’t make asound: I was literally dumb with terror.All my desire to co-operate had vanished utterly. I looked down and sawhis hand wrapped round a leather coveredleather-covered bar at my waist- the handle attached to the wire. That cruel line of pain in my crotchwas just an inch or so from turning me into the thing I had longed to besince I was 12 years old: a girl. But the thought of it happening likethis – the shocking pain which I knew would become ten times worse – andthe fact that I would barely live long enough to even be aware that Ihad finally achieved my secret desire were so horrifying that I thoughtI must be having a nightmare and would wake up in a minute.Still keeping the tension in the loop of wire between my legs, with hisfree hand he brought an Amyl bottle to my nose.”You want to be my little moppet-spunkslut, don’t you, girl?…I need alittle schoolgirl’s bum wriggling on my rod…a real schoolgirl…not apretend one. You want to be a real little girl for me, so I can ram myprick up your juicy little 9-year-old hole…don’t you, moppet?”I felt dizzy and sick with horror, but the bottle stayed at my nose andI inhaled gratefully again and again. My skin began to crawl withbuzzing tingles of unnatural excitement as my body grew hotter andhotter. The leaden bar of dread in the pit of my stomach dissolved intobutterfly-thrills of erotic terror. The painful loop of wire cuttinginto the tender flesh in my pantie-crotch became cruel pinching fingersmaking my clitoris burn. I knew with every nerve in my helpless tightly-boundtightly bound limbs that I was powerless to prevent or even delaywhat the man was about to do to me, and every nerve sent its janglingmessage of vulnerability to my neck and between my legs. XXI was 13 again, in the woods, dangerously courting the attention of somestranger. Then as now, I wanted more than just the private pleasure oflooking like a girl; I needed someone to see me and take me for a girl.Even that was not enough: I desperately wanted someone to confirm mygirlishness in the most concrete way imaginable – and make me feel likea girl inside. There was only one proof I could think of, but I was tooscared to offer myself willingly.: Wwhat 13-year-old girl would offerher virginity to the first stranger she saw?There was only one possible solution: I needed to be compelled, taken byforce. However scared of the outcome I might have been, I knew very wellthe kind of man I secretly hoped might catch me: someone who foundpretty young schoolgirls so unbearably arousing that he would not passup any ready-made opportunity to strip and explore their fragilegraceful bodies; someone who would see my slight short- skirted figureflitting through a silent empty forest as a perfect victim to satisfyhis fantasies; a ruthless utterly selfish r****t who took no account ofanything but his own desires.And why shouldn’t he? What else was I there for, wandering about thewoods dressed in my sister’s things, if not that? What should a strangerthink of a young girl who purposely placed herself in circumstanceswhere her virginity was most at risk?’ Wasn’t any man entitled to makeme experience the nightmare-thrills of terror as my skirt was yanked up,my panties ripped off and my bare legs forcibly spread, leaving me nakedand vulnerable from the waist down? Eeven if that meant being trappedand treated like a whore for as long as his fantasy required it.He wouldn’t take a scrap of notice of my squeaky high-pitched pleas formercy or my subsequent pain, but would go on and on until he left mypretty clothes in tatters and my pretty body limp, soiled and spent,like a heap of discarded sperm-soaked rags on the forest path. Afterall, didn’t I deserve that fate? I was a cockteaser, and cockteasersdeserved whatever they got! Young girls weren’t supposed to wanderaround the woods flashing their slim white legs, displaying the nipplesof their just-budding breasts and the rounded curves of their small firmbottoms in provocatively thin summer dresses, with such deliberate -such irresistableirresistible – invitingness!Girls who behaved like that knew the risks they ran; their parentswarned them often enough! Cheeky little moppets who flaunted thesexiness of their pubescent bodies out of vanity so publicly had noright to complain if the buttons went flying as the front of theirschool dresses were torn open, their navy knicks pulled down theirstruggling legs, and their naked charms exposed to some stranger’saching flesh! Naughty little minxes who deIiberatelydeliberately ignoredall the dangers they’d been warned of and ran around lonely woodsletting their skirt-hems fly up and expose their delicious knicker-covered rumps and the crease in the front where the cotton clung totheir juicy virgin quimslits, had no-one but themselves to blame if theyended up in the bushes with their naked mud-streaked bodiesspreadeagledspread-eagled on the damp ground, their own oh-so-teasingpee-drenched panties stuffed into their mouths to stop their squeals,and some man’s hard angry sex remorselessly jerking up and down in theirtaut pain- filled bellies.Newspaper headlines also frequently warned them how they could finish upas well: they deserved no sympathy if they were left with theirpointless AM -cup bras no longer covering their breasts, but insteadwrapped tightly round their long slender necks while fresh sperm slowlyoozed from the still- warm slit between their motionless out-spreadlegs.Little whores like that were just asking for it!Little tarts like that were just begging for it!Little girls like that got exactly what was coming to them!Girls like me…The d**g-induced sensations in each end of my body had become sooverwhelmingly exciting that the rest of me seemed to melt away, XXuntilall that remained was a single long vagina-tunnel, throbbing andpulsating with hunger. But the ends were the wrong way round! The upper,inner end was open and needed to be squeezed shut, to form a hbot softenvelope of flesh around the man’s swollen spurting knob; the elower end, the tunnel’s entrance, should be a pair of delicious ripelips, stretched into an obscenely – thrilling ‘O’ of pleasure around thebroadest part of his shaft, the very base of it!The past and future no longer existed: I was aware of nothing but thismoment. My identity had been reduced to nothing but this namelesstrembling vagina, hungrily waiting for the flesh that would mould itinto the shape it should be, and leave it forever transformed!”Please don’t fuck my little slit…please, I’m too young.. it’s toosmall… pleease don’t put your thing inside me.. please I promise I’llnever tease anyone ever again Sir…Pleeeease!!! NO! PLEEEEASE!!!…””Oh, you fucking whore!! You little fucking cock-teasing moppet!!Begging for cocks one minute, and then just when you’ve had a taste ofit telling me not to stick mine up your tight little spunk-filled 12-year-old cunt! You’ll take my cock and like it, you cock-teasing SLUT!!I’M GOING TO FUCK YOUR CREAMY LITTLE SLIT TO DEATH, BABY!!!”His forearms pulled my hips back and as I lost my balance I felt threesimultaneous sensations: the rope jerked taut round my throat; hismonstrous shaft forced my hole wide open; and a split-second later apain shot through me so fierce it seemed like the blade of a knife hadjust been thrust into my belly.I was a wriggling red spark of pure pain. The moment had finally come.In a few seconds I would be dead, but those seconds would last alifetime, an eternity. And in that eternity everything about me would bereduced to that hot wall of pain clinging hungrily to the life-forcejerking away within it. When the juice finally spilled into me my reasonfor existing would be fulfilled and it would be over..

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