“You feel that, Little One? That’s your pussy thanking me for fucking you. Do you see now? How much you do like it? All these people can see it. You won’t be able to deny it now,” he said as he fucked me, panting.
Too soon, I needed him to stop so I could avoid the embarrassment of coming in front of all these people, but Sir could last forever.Desperate screams rolled out of me as he fucked me deeper, faster. It felt as if his cock were growing thicker and longer, but it was actually my pussy tightening, choking him. I started holding my breath with the effort I was putting into resisting. I knew he was growing annoyed at my determination to avoid it.
While plunging all the way in, he pulled at the object in my ass, then pushed it again. Around me, multiple trails of cum landed on the stage. The other men were coming from watching and hearing me screech from pleasure. Their groans, moans and cussing filled my ears, but Sir had me at such a state that I was screeching. I was wound so tight it hurt not to come. My clit engorged, stiffened, throbbing, craving to be touched. I bit my tongue to not beg him for it. He left the fattest part of the object at my entrance, overstretching it, and started fucking me again.
I remembered how good his tongue had felt, and a pressure filled my clit as if I were about to pee. Sir held onto the object to keep my ass from swallowing it again while fucking me so hard he moaned with every thrust, and I tried to pull away despitethe restraints, arching my back and screaming to the ceiling. I couldn’t hold it anymore.
“This is how whores like to be fucked. You like it? You like knowing all these men can see your asshole enjoying it? Show me how much you like it, Little One.” The second he said the nickname, liquid gushed from me. My body convulsed as wave after wave of electrical all-consuming pleasure rolled through me oh-so violently while Sir pulled and pushed at the plug and fucked me with all his strength. I sobbed, not just because of the longevity and intensity of the orgasm, but also the worthlessness that it confirmed.
I was nothing. Just a slave who liked being abused and fucked roughly.
Clapping accompanied my long groans as I spilled again and again. Sir released the object, allowing my butt to swallow it. The longer the orgasm lasted, the tighter I hooked onto the girth of his cock, and the more painful it became. While I screeched and blubbered, my body kept puckering and opening, convulsing on him. Nothing else existed but how good his cock felt, and how he sounded as he fucked me with it. He had no mercy on me, thrusting so hard our bodies crashed into one another. I screamed, and my body once again convulsed, leaving me wondering why I was still coming. He hissed and released a high-pitched moan that pushed me.
“Oh no, no, no please no,” I heard myself cry at the pressure building again. Men gasped at how I spilled again.
Then I repeated the mistake of opening my eyes. I was no longer in my delusion. Bright lights blinded me for a few seconds, but then I saw the reality. I was on a stage with cameras on us while he fucked me, raped me like an animal, with men clapping in the audience and masturbating. The smell of cum was nauseatingly thick in the air.
I allowed myself to collapse, closed my eyes, and lay there like a rag doll, silently weeping, wallowing in worthlessness and despair. Never could I have imagined this would be my life. There were only two thoughts that made me feel better: the idea of him doing this for show so everyone would believe I was nothing to him but his sex slave to train. The second was concocting a plan for how I would do what I should have done years ago—kill him. It was impossible to believe the beautiful lie, so eventually, I began planning how I would do it.
I only allowed myself to blink to inhibit shedding any more of my tears. When I opened my eyes, I stared into the abyss. When he walked away, cold air caressed my bleeding cheeks, torturing me. Despite my puckering, his cum slipped out onto the bench. Men cheered, clapped, and whistled.
I grimaced at the sound of all the shoes hitting the stage as they walked around doing I had no idea what.Were they going to hit me again? Were they going to rape me too?
They were walking toward me.No! No, please don’t.
The rest of the auditorium was emptying, and when I looked around, Sir was nowhere to be found.
26. I’m Not Going Anywhere
They formed a circle around me, staring at me, studying me, whispering among each other. “She has the perfect body.”What accent is that? Not from the UK.
“So tiny. The first thing I would do is shave that head.”
“Men, that was insane. She squirted multiple times. I thought that was a fucking myth.”
One of them walked up behind the breeding bench. He got so close to me; I felt his breath on my pussy lips. I grimaced.Please God, don’t let them touch me. Please.
“What I would not give to have her all tied up in my basement. Jesus Christ.”
“How much do you think he’ll sell her for?”They’re American. Is that where we are?
“You know him… He always sells the best at the most expensive price.”
“Yeah, the last one was two-fifty.”
I lowered my forehead to the bench and closed my eyes, not wanting to hear their bullshit.
“Five hundred dollars?” a young one asked, and I wanted to scream shut the fuck up so badly at them.
“No, you idiot, two hundred and fifty million.”
“She’s definitely worth it.” Another sniffed my pussy. My heart started pounding so hard I couldn’t hear them anymore. Their circle was so tight I felt claustrophobic and wanted nothing more than for them to get the hell away from me.
“Gentleman…” It was Sir’s voice. I held on to the hope that someone would address him by his name.
“Sir… Always a pleasure.” They bowed their heads a little and walked away.
Four men untied me and placed me on a medical bed face down. I didn’t fight them because I was in ragdoll mode, my mind neither here nor there. When I would pop back into my current situation, disgust overwhelmed me. How could people do this?
