Kattie's New Life Begins Chapter 3
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Posted:May 8, 2024 2:04 pm
Last Updated:May 8, 2024 2:09 pm 16 Views
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[Continued from "Kattie's Abduction Fantasy", a must read before this one.]
Sleep now and cocoon your mind in those dark corridors of the brain where thought is formed. Your lone respite from the callousness of the world. Here they can take nothing from you and nowhere else is this true. Pained sleeper. In time the engine of your ruin will run itself to the uttermost terminus of infamy. Here as they were in Babylon. In the broken towers of Gomorrah.
The bright light coming in from the window illuminated the insides of her eyelids. Kattie blinked in delirium, looking around with a blurred gaze. She was in her apartment, laying on the couch. She appeared to be alone.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. A throbbing headache pulsed like the blows of small hammers behind her eyeballs. She felt like someone had sawed open the top of her head and filled it with sand. She looked down at herself. She was completely naked, save for the high heeled ankle-high black boots she'd been wearing the night before. For a moment she sat completely baffled at her situation, but when her brain finally sorted through the variety of aches and pains present throughout her body and focused on those emanating from her vagina, rectum, and throat, her memory of the previous night came flooding back in a quick, sickening wave.
Suddenly fighting the urge to vomit, she stood up and rushed to the toilet, scrambling awkwardly on the high heels of her boots, then dropped to her knees and unleashed a violent torrent of puke into the water, the foul acidic bile burning her nostrils as it came up. She wretched two, three times, each time letting a diminishing volume of her stomach's contents splash down. She flushed and rested her head on the seat of the toilet, too weak to get up. Her eyes watered.
Reluctantly, afraid of what she might find, she reached her fingers down to touch the angrily pulsing rim of her vagina. It burned to the touch, sending a jolt of stinging pain up through her nether regions. She snapped her hand away. She knew her asshole would be no better.
Six guys had fucked her last night. Six guys she didn't know the names of, or even remember the faces of really. Was it only six? She wasn't even sure. Guys who had seen her at the bar and known who she really was...and everything that identity entailed.
Her face suddenly became hot and she felt panic rising up in her, and she leaned back over the toilet and vomited heartily again. Whether from last night's alcohol or from sheer anxiety this time, she didn't know.
She spat into the toilet, flushed again and leaned back heavily against the wall. She felt like she wanted to sob, but she couldn't. She just sat there, feeling empty. She pulled off the ridiculous solitary boots and then looked down at her naked body. She had a few mysterious red splotches and other subtle discolorations here and there on her skin. She didn't even remember everything that had happened clearly, but she knew they had been rough with her. So rough. Patches of dried semen coated her body, too, in various places, most of it on her labia and around her groin and asscheeks, but plenty over her chest and face. She gingerly placed another finger in the entrance of her vagina, then slowly pushed it all the way in. She withdrew it and rubbed her thumb against it, feeling the clearish, oily substance her vagina had been incubating for the last several hours.
So they'd cum in her. And not used condoms. Of course they hadn't. She was Kattie Duval after all, everyone's personal nasty , as far as they were concerned. Her body was shaking slightly. Just when she'd thought she might be clean, six new strange dicks plundered her vulnerable pussy. Now she would have to go all through the terror again of possibly giving Kevin a disease.
Kevin.
Panic surged through her again. God, what if he found out? She couldn't lose him, couldn't have him find out about this. She prayed that this was just an isolated incident, that it wouldn't recur or spiral into something worse. It had to be isolated, right? She'd gone so long with nothing. She'd thought she'd escaped it.
She sighed and braved another peek down between her legs. There was a tiny microfissure on her perineum, a hair-thin line of blood. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. What a wreck. Her hair was a wild, tangled mane, matted in places with what must be cum. Her makeup smeared and garbled all across her face, her mascara splayed up and down from her eyes in long, translucent black streaks, or tear tracks. She bent over slightly, pulling her buttcheeks apart toward the mirror. She looked back over her shoulder. Her rectum looked red and somewhat beat up, too. She'd have to avoid having sex with Kevin for a few days. He couldn't know.
She showered, reliving the now familiar experience of trying to wash away a filth that just could not be gotten down to.
When she got out she saw that there was a notification on her phone where it sat on her coffee table. Her heart dropped. She slowly picked it up and turned the screen on.
Someone had sent her a picture of herself, with blonde hair, obviously taken last night. She was on her knees on the ground looking up at the camera, her uncertain eyes red with bloodshot. Her mouth was open and filled with cum.
He'd sent others, too. All from the same number. Pictures from last night, one of her on her knees, her face surrounded by a circle or dicks, various pictures of her with dicks in her pussy or ass, some with her looking at the camera while a cock was shoved deep in her throat, one with her being double penetrated.
"Your secret's still safe with me, babe," the accompanying text read. "Just keep up your end of the deal and your boyfriend never finds out."
She shut off her phone and threw it down on the couch, then she sank down next to it and began to cry in frustration.
She spent much of the day in various degrees of anxiety around her apartment. She was supposed to work a shift at the store that evening, but she knew she couldn't. She still had the effects of a hangover, and didn't want to leave the safety of her own place anyway. She called in, saying she was running a fever.
She slept for a while, just wanting to turn her mind off for a while. She woke to the warmer tones of evening light hitting her wall. She braved a look at her phone again.
Kevin had texted her that morning, apologizing for having to run off last night, and wishing her a nice day. She texted him back, hoping he wasn't too worried by her delayed response. She could not have him getting suspicious.
Taking a deep breath, she navigated back to the other messages. She had to delete them.
But when she was greeted with that picture of her upturned face, eyeliner smeared, covered in sweat and harboring the cum of strangers in her open mouth, she felt that terrible thrill again. The one she'd worked so well to suppress for the last several months. The slut rising up again.
She slipped a hand down the front of her panties, tracing it along the length of her vulva. It still stung, but the desire to touch herself overrode the pain. It might have even enhanced it somewhat, knowing that this pain was the consequences of her depravity. She collected some of her wetness and brought it up to tease her clit, running the slippery tip of her finger over the slightly hardening little bud.
She began rubbing herself hard, looking at the shameful pictures of herself. A well-fucked , covered in the crud of her suitors. Yes, she was a wanton slut. They'd been right to put her in her place. Look at those anonymous cocks in her holes. She could still feel the aches deep within her where they'd fucked her. They'd seen her, taken her to their home, crammed their dicks into every wet entry point of her body, and fucked her until she could barely walk. Just the way everyone should. The world's rent-a-. She had a sudden urge to go spread her legs wide in front of the window facing the street, but resisted (or should i?). She rubbed herself furiously, rubbed until the pleasure overrode the pain of her raw, abused genitals. She loved feeling the havoc they'd wreaked on her body.
She had an explosive squirting orgasm, coating the couch and part of the coffee table in front of it. She lay back, her chest heaving with her breath. The moment passed. What was wrong with her? She was disgusted with herself. She quickly erased the pictures and the entire conversation, unable to believe she'd been excited by this horrifying objectification of herself only moments before.
She cleaned up after herself, drying up her squirt then getting a wet washcloth and scrubbing away the dried film of pussy juice and semen that had leaked out of her onto the couch the night before. She took another shower. She had to be sure nothing was detectable by the time Kevin came over tonight. She sat in the shower, her mind racing with thoughts of worry, shame, and guilt.
He couldn't know anything.
*
Kevin had had a front row seat to all the debauchery of the previous evening, and it had been the most intense sexual gratification of his life. The guys had been pretty decent cameramen. He'd of course seen plenty of footage of his girlfriend taking a room full of dick, but this was different. That had all been in the past, removed. She hadn't known him at the time, she had looked a little different. This was so much better, knowing he'd just been with her, seen her wearing that same outfit that had been torn from her body. Knowing she had put it on that night having no idea what would happen to it, and her.
They'd taken her back to the main guy's apartment, and Kevin had been surprised to find that the guy happened to live in the same building as Kattie. It was on another floor and on the opposite side, but still. He could tell that Kattie was afraid they were somehow taking her back to her own apartment when they first went up to the building.
But they hadn't. The six guys had taken her to the one guys place. It must have been about 2 am by the time they got there. Kattie wouldn't make it back out until about five hours later, when they had sent her running back to her own apartment through the building, with just her heeled boots and her purse for adornment, hoping against hope not to run into any other early morning tenants on her way there.
They'd wasted little time getting her undressed once they were all in the apartment. Her skirt had been lifted in one pull up and over her head, and her bra had quickly followed. It left her standing there in just her black boots, her panties having been relegated to her purse earlier in the evening. One of the dudes yucked it up in front of the camera and went to the window and threw her clothes out onto the street three stories below.
The guys stayed dressed for a while while Kattie wandered around naked, looking scared and awkward. Finally she just sat on the couch while the guys kept preparing more drinks, a few of which they forced on her. Kevin knew she was already three fourths of the way to hammered, even if this scare had woken her up a bit. She would be completely out of it if she kept drinking these.
Still, after only a moment's hesitation she threw her head back and drank, first one, then two, three more as they came. She must be drinking to forget, knowing what was coming. They had her sit with her legs wide open and they all took turns just casually reaching over and toying with her pussy as they drank, laughing and cutting up the whole time. The guy filming assured her he wasn't going to do anything with the footage, it was just for his personal use. By this time Kattie was too drunk to even question it or really notice, though.
"So, just exactly how many guys have you fucked?" the ringleader asked while he knelt before her and slowly squeezed three of his fingers in and out of her already wet cunt, as if he were scientifically surveying the structure of such a promiscuous girl's sex canal.
"Two hundred and eighty four," Kattie said, almost immediately, a completely deadpan look on her face, as if expecting him to mock her. It had come to mind so quickly, the number obviously always circling in her head.
284. So that's her real number.
"You're such a generous girl to give yourself away to so many guys like that," the guy said. "Wow. Well you're going to be up to 290 after tonight, are you excited about that?"
His pants were suddenly coming down. He pulled her ass toward the edge of the couch and leaning over her, stuck his bare dick right into her slick hole.
"Here's number 285 for you," he said, his thrusts making loud squishing noises as they bottomed out against her spread crotch. A thick web of pussy mucus already covered her labia, and smacked up against the guy's pubic region and lower belly when he fully inserted himself into her. He held her by her ankles, holding them apart and up above his shoulders.
"God you feel fucking good for how much mileage you've got. Does your boyfriend have any idea how many dicks you've let in this little cunt of his?"
Kevin could see a flash of panic cross Kattie's eyes as she looked up at her partner.
"No," the guy said. "I didn't think so. Don't worry. I'm not going to tell him as long as you can keep a secret, too."
They all took their turns with her, first just one after the other, in that same position. They each counted their respective numbers for her as they entered. 286, 287, 288, 289, 290. The number that could never be reversed, only get higher. The number that our society has decided is inversely equal to a woman's worth. God he loved to see it climb higher in real time. He knew that number weighed heavy on her mind too. How many times had she told him he was number two?
Kevin could see the hesitancy on her face, the guilt. It was the first time she'd fucked anyone else since being with him. Nearly a year. She'd thought she'd outran this. Thought she could build a normal life with a single guy she could be committed to, but look at her now. He could see it all hitting her, drunk as she was, as she accommodatingly spread her pussy open for the next guy to enter her more easily. She looked as if she were in shock.
Once they'd all gotten their dicks wet the first time they began switching it up, fucking her this way and that, hanging off every piece of furniture in the apartment. They'd trade off the camera when they needed to. They took her two, three at a time, each one of them getting their fill of every hole she had, switching recklessly from ass to pussy or ass to mouth, not bothering to clean themselves off at all between holes. They slammed into her mercilessly, and she was already soaking wet enough to take it.
Kevin beat off multiple times throughout the whole thing, cumming and then still being ready to get hard again a minute later. He loved seeing these guys take such deep pleasure in her, doing whatever they wanted. This was the kind of sex the vast majority of people would never get to experience in their life. Completely unrestrained. Limitless. And they were getting it from his girl. The internet's pet . They were fucking her as is they were taking out all the frustrations of their lives on her vagina, on her rectum. And she could take it. God she was built to be gangfucked. Her legs splayed open as a guy switched out of her vagina at one point. Her entire crotch was glowing red. A gleaming rivulet of her own juice streamed out, down her asscrack. Yep...all these months spent trying to repress it, but still nothing excited her like being used like she was only a dumpster for cum. What a strange contrast existed between who she wanted to be seen as, and who she was deep within. You didn't get this completely drenched from being forced to give your pussy to six strangers unless it massively excited you.
"Don't hold back, guys," the ringleader told his friends, as if they needed encouragement. "You know what she can take."
He watched them pillage her for the next few hours, all of them cumming, waiting a bit, then getting straight back into the action. They obviously didn't want to waste this opportunity. They fucked her like viking raiders taking out all of their sexual rage on the only female left in a sacked coastal village, slamming into her until only their pelvic bones stopped them from going further. Her cervix seemed to have trained itself to retreat as far back as possible, but even then the more endowed of them could feel themselves bottom out against it and push the elastic dimpled wall back even further until every millimeter of their cocks was wrapped in the lumen of her vaginal space. Her clouded mind seemed to have retreated to a place of shelter. She fucked them back thoroughly, loosening up and giving into it in self-preservation, the way a drunk person fares better in a car crash than a sober one. Come what may.
They fucked her all over the apartment, every way they could. At one point they had her in the bedroom, laying on her back with her head hanging off the mattress, and they all took turns throatfucking her in this optimal position. They could easily angle their cocks down the length of her throat and simply lean down, pressing their whole cock into her just using the weight of their body. She initially reached a hand up to a thigh to try to push the first guy a little further out, but soon realized how hopeless that task would be.
"Open your throat," he said to her, already touching the tip of her nose with his balls. She tried to recall the way she had relaxed her throat in the past when people fucked her face, but then remembered that there wasn't really a great way to ease it. You just had to endure it. The next thing she knew the guy had leaned all the way down, sliding his cock back until her lips ringed the very base of his shaft, his pubic hair tickling her tongue, and then he struggled to push just a tiny bit further, the head of his dick somewhere down near her voicebox. Kevin could see her throat distending. She vocalized a strong but muffled, smothered gag, her head involuntarily raising up slightly to escape the massive intrusion, but there was nowhere to go.
The guy pulled out a little then slammed back in, over and over, fucking her throat like it was a pussy, just thrusting in as far as he could each time, with complete disregard to how awful it might be for Kattie. He moaned loudly. This was not something you ever got to do to a girl. Kattie flailed, her fingers tightening on his thighs like ten overworked little vices, but still he assaulted her. Her throat was making a cacophony of absurd gurgles and wails, occasionally a sharp, muffled retching noise that sounded like she was going to vomit, but she somehow powered through the reflex. She was turning slightly purple in the face, and drool flung out of the rim of her lips in ropes or often webbed between the corner of her mouth and the guy's balls. Tears were pouring unbidden from her eyes, rolling down in dark tracks of ruined mascara. He was fucking her throat so deep you couldn't even see his shaft. Just a ballsack protruded from her mouth, smashing into her nose with each thrust.
Obviously feeling the coming tide, the guy suddenly pulled out just as a surge of spittle and bile rose up out of her throat and rolled down the upper half of her face in a foamed wave. She sputtered through the vile mask as it covered her nose, her eyes, then her hair as it made its way to the floor. She took several huge, gasping breaths, the normal tone of her skin slowly restoring. She coughed and sputtered.
Before she had even begun to collect herself, the guy was straight back in, moaning in undignified, high pitched little bursts, unable to help himself. He'd obviously never felt anything like this. He plugged away for several more seconds, moaning and spasming, his thrusts quickening until suddenly with a great cry he grabbed her by the hinges of her jaw and pulled her head all the way into his crotch, holding his dick as deep into her throat as it would reach as he experienced a lengthy, body-wracking orgasm.
Kattie's legs were kicking and her entire body rippled and flailed as she instinctively fought to escape the invasion, but the guy was holding her skull with an iron grip and she could not gain a centimeter of relief. Her face was turning purple again, but she would have to endure it until he was done. There was no chance of him pulling out mid-cum. He was moaning like an animal in the rut, jerking his pelvis forward in little micro-thrusts, his length already fully utilized. Spurt after spurt of hot cum splashed somewhere down in there, against the walls of her larynx, so deep that she couldn't even taste it hitting her tongue. He held her in place, as if he were catatonic, until he was completely done. It felt like it lasted an eternity. As the last residual drop oozed out and he finally dislodged his shaft from her aching throat, he gasped "Thank....you....sweetheart." His cock came free on the last word and she hurled another thick wave of saliva mixed with semen over her inverted face. She coughed for nearly two minutes straight as they all stood around in awe watching.
One of the guys put a hand up to her exposed pussy as she lay there, legs flung apart carelessly, recovering. He withdrew it and presented his fingers to everyone.
"This is the wettest I've ever felt a bitch get."
They leered at each other, giddy and perhaps feeling somehow vindicated in the violence of their assault.
Every guy proceeded to give her more or less the same treatment, but this time the others would wait their turn by getting between her legs and fucking that constantly sopping wet pussy, ever replenishing itself, while one of their buddies fucked her mouth. Why leave a hole unoccupied?
Kevin was almost beside himself with dark lust. He loved seeing her get used like this, knowing she had a lifetime of this kind of treatment to look forward to. Not only will people always feel that they had a right to fuck her, and do so, but they'll expect this level of fucking from her. Not only would she one day have a list of sexual partners a mile long, but it would be a list of people who had fucked the absolute shit out of her, people doing anything they wanted to her. He watched her getting fucked now, barely taking it, forcing herself to get used to it again. She'd been back to being a normal girl for so long now.
They fucked her until the wee hours of the morning. Kevin stayed up and watched it all, watched the comments pour in from other viewers online. God they all wanted to do the nastiest things to her. Eventually the guys had all orgasmed enough times that they were more or less unable to continue. Kattie lay in a state of exhausted delirium on the bed, her legs spread wide to ease the stinging in her red, visibly raw pussy. He couldn't tell to what extent she was even awake anymore.
"Alright, time to go, babe," the ringleader told her. He shook her. "You were great tonight, but it's time to get the fuck out."
She sat up and looked around blearily. She seemed to be looking for her clothes, but then remembered that they'd all been tossed out the window.
"...but, how do I..." she began.
"That's up to you," he told her, handing her back the boots that had been removed at some point in the night. "You're got your boots to wear at least, and here's your purse." He pulled the panties out of them and stuffed them into his own dresser. "I'll keep these though. Go on. Go home. It's early enough, hopefully you won't run into that many people."
They all laughed.
Kattie put on the boots and staggered to the door, unsteadily, semen running out of her crotch and down her long, naked legs, or following her in a trail of little splatters on the floor. At least she lived in this building. She attempted to hold her purse in front of herself, but she couldn't decide whether to hold it in front of her tits or her pussy, and neither position was very effective anyway. As she put a hand on the doorknob, the guy stopped her.
"Oh, and Kattie, just so you know, your boyfriend won't find out about this if you just do what I say. No one else will know either. None of us will say anything to you or acknowledge anything if we see you around. But you have to be on call to come fuck whenever I say. You figure out how to hide it from your boyfriend, that's not my problem. I put my number in your phone earlier. When I text you and say I need pussy, you aren't allowed to say no."
He observed her face, the panic in her eyes. He grinned.
"Don't worry. It won't be forever. I'm moving in a couple months. You'll be free after that. But for the next two months, that pussy is mine whenever I want it. You make that happen, and you'll never see or hear from any of us again after that." One of the other guys grabbed her phone and put his number in it as well. All he said was "me too".
She nodded, quickly, and he let her out and she scrambled out the door, out of view of the camera. They shut the door behind her and all turned and grinned at the camera, giving the thumbs up, then began high fiving each other. The ringleader leaned in.
"Hope you guys enjoyed the show. And don't worry, I have no plans on keeping my end of that deal in the end."
*
Kevin slept pretty late, having stayed up until 7 am watching his girlfriend get gangfucked online. He texted Kattie, for cover, as he knew it would be an expected thing for him to do. He just acted like everything was fine and he knew nothing. He looked back on the forums.
There had been quite a flurry of activity. Everyone was buzzing with excitement over the new developments, over the possibilities that seemed near at hand. The videos had already been copied and uploaded to plenty of porn sites. The main guy orchestrating the whole thing the day before was back on there, giving a suggestion that he, and anyone else who could present confirmation, should get a little badge next to their username, identifying them as someone who had actually fucked Kattie. By the time Kevin saw, it had already been implemented. The guy had a gold crown next to his username, with the number "285" inside of it. A mod had posted saying that going forward they would give a similar crown to anyone who had proof of fucking her, and what number of partner they were for her. A silver crown if you used a condom, a gold one if you didn't. Kevin loved it. It conveyed a sense of status to their deranged obsession. He knew he should have "284", but he couldn't present proof. Not yet. Users were already clamoring over the new system, with some announcing their intention to become "Mr. 1000," or even higher numbers. They seemed to have no limit on the expectations of her whoredom. Their imaginations ran wild, with debates springing up about how many different guys she could conceivably fuck in a year, with calculations supposing X number of partners per month, or week. They had no doubt that the rate of her promiscuity would soon rise tremendously. Kevin read these anonymous jerk off fantasies with elation. All this collectively directed filth aimed at his own girlfriend, a mass willingness of her ultimate degradation. God he would have it all come true.
They had sent the new footage to Kattie's old friends and family. Anybody they could find through social media who was related or seemed to have interacted with her a lot in the past. All accompanied with messages along the lines of "Look, she's still getting gangfucked up in Boston! She just can't get enough dick!" They'd tried to send some to her brother but he had evidently deleted all presence of himself from the Internet following the shame his sister had brought on his family.
He texted her around 8 pm and let her know he'd be coming over, as was usual. He couldn't hint anything was off. He knew she'd be trying to hide it as well.
She answered the door, dressed in comfortable, lounge-around clothes. She told him she wasn't feeling to well, and wanted to just take it easy tonight. He said of course, spoke reassuringly, treated her gently. They watched a movie in the dark, lying next to each other on the couch. He smelled her hair in his face. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him, kissing her. He thought of what those lips had been doing less than 24 hours earlier. He wanted to fuck her so bad, to feel those freshly used holes for himself. Would they feel any different in this aftermath, stretched, worn out, or would they have recovered by now? But he knew he couldn't, not today. There would be other chances, and soon.
She was reserved the whole night, and barely spoke. He asked her if anything was wrong, knowing he shouldn't pretend to be completely oblivious, and she just smiled and told him everything was fine.
Over the following days he monitored her mood closely. He could tell she was acting differently, but he could also tell she was trying her best to hide it. She eventually let him have sex with her again on the third day after the incident, but he could tell she was somewhat uneasy about it, apparently afraid that he would somehow feel something off. Whenever he was not around her he would compulsively check the forum, anticipating the guy's first booty call demand of Kattie.
It came on the fourth day, one of Kattie's off days. Kevin was at work when he saw the post, checking his phone while in the bathroom. He was scheduled to get off in four hours, and had plans to go straight to Kattie's after work. That gave them a tight but usable window. The guy posted a screenshot of his text to her.
"Hope you're free," he said. "I'm in need of some pussy right now. You know my apartment number. Be here asap or your bf finds out everything."
"Let's see how this plays out!" his accompanying message of the screenshot read. "You guys will of course get a front row seat of this."
Kevin promptly left the bathroom and informed his boss that he had to take the rest of the day off. A sudden migraine and accompanying nausea, he said. His boss wasn't thrilled, but it worked. He raced home and pulled up the site on his laptop.
The guy was sitting in his bed on the livestream, waiting. He'd evidently set his phone up on some surface near the foot of his bed, angled so that it could record everything. He'd posted Kattie's response on the forum, which had come nearly 15 minutes after his first message. She had simply replied "Ok."
Kevin knew she had no choice. It was her only desperate hope of this guy not ruining the new life she had begun to build here.
He saw her enter the door a few minutes later, timidly. She stood there awkwardly as the guy came up and caressed her face. It was different having to do this stone sober. She was wearing just a t shirt, shorts, and flip flops, probably for ease of removing and putting back on. He seemed to have no hesitation pulling them all off of her. She didn't seem to notice the camera, but it wasn't like she'd be able to do anything different even if she did.
Soon they were on the bed, her completely naked, him clothed except for his dick and balls which were pulled over the waistband of his sweatpants. She was on her knees on the bed, in profile, leaning forward and giving him a blowjob to start things off, slobbering thoroughly over his cock and rubbing a fist up and down the length of his shaft, rubbing his glans with the saliva on her palm, twisting it slightly. Just trying to get this over with. She had said nothing since entering. Her hair hung down, shielding her face, but he pulled it back and tucked it behind her ear, so that the camera could get a full shot of her mouth swallowing his cock.
"That's a good sucking slut."
Soon he had moved their arrangement so that her ass was to the camera as she blew him. All you could see of the situation was her beautiful heart shaped ass, her shaved pussy beneath that, and then the soles of her bare feet tucked beneath, as if looking up at her nude behind while she sat in a glass chair.
He had apparently only moved to this position for the benefit of the viewers, for within minutes he had moved back to the side profile view near the foot of the bed. He was grabbing her head now and doing the work himself, pulling her face all the way down onto his dick and throatfucking her over and over in quick, full thrusts. She gurgled and made the usual battery of wet, undignified noises that came with the territory, but took it all, her eyes closed tight and the tears running down her face. He kept this up for a full two minutes before finally he held her face all the way down and unloaded his bursts of cum way back past her uvula, locking his legs behind her neck and squeezing her face into his pelvis with the full strength of his lower body. She slapped a hand down over and over on the mattress in a flailing, panicked plea for clemency that would not come.
With a great, vicious moan he finally released her, and she sat up choking and sputtering, the full length of his still-turgid dick finally dislodging from the depths of her throat. She buried her face in the mattress, coughing and fighting to fill her lungs back with air through the spray of saliva, cum, and other fluids plaguing her respiratory tract.
He had gotten up and wiped his dick off.
"Do you let your boyfriend fuck your throat like that? Let him throatpie you? Or do you save the nasty shit for strangers?"
She said nothing. She just continued breathing raggedly. He watched her attempting to collect herself.
"That was nice, but don't think we're done for today. I can cum twice, especially for a nasty thing like you, always in heat and putting out like you are. Just give me a few minutes. Why don't you put on a little show for me? See that phone at the end of the bed? I'm recording this whole thing."
She looked from the phone to him and back and seemed as if she were trying to say something, but her mouth just hung open stupidly.
"Don't worry," he said. "It's just for me. I'm not going to be sending it to anyone, so long as you keep feeding me these holes for the next six weeks. Now get up close to the camera, spread your legs wide, and play with yourself. I know that throatfucking excited you. You've already left a fucking snail trail on my sheets. Get close so I can see the detail when I watch this later. No, don't touch your face. Leave all that as is. I like that freshly fucked look."
Kattie shot him a death glare, but scooted herself up to the very foot of the bed, spread her legs, and began rubbing her clit. He was right, you could see her thighs slathered in mucus, a string of it connecting from the sheet where she'd just sat up to her vagina. She flicked her hair out of her face in a gesture of futile pride, and with tight, pursed lips looked dead into the camera as she frigged herself. Her stubborn attempt at maintaining some level of decency was almost comical. She has to know how she looked. She wisely hadn't worn makeup that could be ruined, but still, her chin, cheeks and chest were covered in gleaming spittle, some of it still oozing out in little collections of tiny bubbles at the edge of her mouth, and twin streams of clear snot ran from her nostrils. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, the streaks of tears still running from them. God she looked beautifully wrecked.
She maintained eye contact with the camera as she rubbed herself, her jaw slowly unclenching and her lips slowly parting as she became lost in the reluctant approach of pleasure. The guy kept speaking to her from off camera, calling her a list of degradations as she kept those big, brownish green eyes locked to the camera.
Within minutes her mouth was hanging open involuntarily, and she seemed to have completely forgotten the attempted dignity of before. As the guy kept ordering her to rub herself, to not stop, she suddenly began bucking her hips and moaning, orgasming hard as she fought to keep her eyes open and fixed on the camera. It was one of the hottest things Kevin had ever seen. She was so obviously tortured with lust over this thing that she wanted to hate, that she wanted people to /think/ she hated. The dangerous, exposing gaze of the camera like a livewire of pleasure hooked straight to her sexual nerve endings.
When her orgasm had subsided and she finally broke eye contact with the camera and lay on her back, exhausted, the guy suddenly reappeared in the shot, his dick hard again.
"I'm ready for that pussy now, sweetie. How much time do we have? When is your boyfriend supposed to be over?"
"8:30," Kattie said, and by the way she ended her speech with an abrupt halt, Kevin could tell that she immediately regretted telling the truth.
The guy smiled. "Well that's perfect. We've still got over two hours. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be home just in time to greet him."
She sat up. "You've got to give me at least 30 minutes," she said, sudden urgency in her voice. "I know you think this is funny, but I HAVE to clean myself up before he gets home. He can't find any evidence of you, or this will all be over. For both of us."
He smirked and shrugged. "We'll see what happens. You don't have much of a choice, do you? I'm sure you'll find some way to hide it, either way."
He proceeded to fuck her for the next hour, his stamina lengthened by the relief of his previous orgasm. He fucked her carelessly, pretty much any way he wanted to, contorting her into every positions he wanted, usually with a focus on giving the camera a good angle. Kevin was struck again by how awesome her slim body was as the guy had his way with it in full light. All legs, like a perfect mannequin of flesh.
For a good 15 minutes he fucked her doggystyle, with her face right up near the camera, so that it could capture her every expression. Her face bucked forward with every thrust.
"Good fucking ," he muttered the whole time, over and over. "That's a good fucking ."
When he was finally ready to finish he had her ride him, her chest pressed against his and her feet wrapped tight around his thighs, the camera getting a clear shot of his shaft sliding all the way in and out of her pussy, right beneath her winking butthole. He increased his pace until finally he thrust all the way in and held it, the barely visible base of his cock spasming as he unloaded inside of her.
"Roll onto your back," he commanded.
She did so, side-eyeing him.
"Tilt your hips up. Keep the cum in you."
For the next 45 minutes he made her stay in this position. Every time she looked as if she might break out of it and get up he would remind her that her boyfriend was just a phone call away. Kattie looked at the clock in growing horror, knowing that he would be coming over soon.
Yep, this guy was going to push it until just the last minute. Maybe not even giving Kattie time to wipe the cum out of her pussy before he got there. Kevin loved it. He began preparing to leave as he watched, planning to cut it as close as possible for her. He'd act just oblivious enough, of course.
He watched the final minutes on his phone as he began the short walk over to her place. The guy really did leave her no time at all. Kevin actually had to slow down slightly on his walk, knowing he might even beat her there.
Finally, a mere two minutes before he was due to arrive, the guy let her get up. She got up like she had been lying on something hot, putting her shorts and shirt back on in a flurry. With a muttered curse, she ran out the door, out of the frame, her hand down the front of her pants, trying to keep the cum inside of her instead of running down her leg.
Kevin shut off his phone and headed into the building, knowing he would be only moments behind her, if anything.
When he got to her door and knocked, he could hear her fumbling around inside. It sounded like she was barely in the doorway.
"Just a second!" she called through the door. "I'm in the bathroom!"
After a minute she let him in. She was visibly flustered, blushing and barely looking him in the eye. He kissed her.
"How's it going?" he asked. He looked her up and down, at the loose, casual clothing and slightly disheveled appearance. "What have you been up to?"
"I just back from working out," she said. "Just had an urge to go to the gym. Sorry to cut it so close. In fact, I probably need to shower. Do you mind if I do that real quick?"
He grinned at her mischievously. "You can in a bit. I kind of like you in this sweaty state."
He began kissing her again, harder, while they were still standing. He ran his hands up the back of her shirt. She pulled away slightly after several seconds.
"Kevin...are you sure? I really feel gross, we can do this after I shower if you don't mind."
"I do mind," he said, trying to sound firm but playful. He couldn't overplay his hand. "You're just giving off these pheromones right now. I want you the way you are right now, dirty and all."
He began kissing her again and moving slowly toward the bed with her. He could tell she was struggling to find a way out of the situation, terrified that he would find evidence of another man on her, or in her, but she couldn't find a way to do so without drawing suspicion, not now that he'd expressed such a strong desire.
He was already rock hard by the time he got her to lay on her back. He knew this was the worst possible outcome of this situation for her. His dick was practically springing out of his pants at the prospect of getting to fuck her fresh after her pussy had just been warmed up for him by another dick. He knew she had surely tried to clean up as much of the semen from her vagina as she could in the brief minute she'd had in the bathroom, but there was no way she got all of it out of her. He was going to get to fuck another guy's cum deeper into her, fucking her in her true whorish state for the first time, really getting that used-pussy feeling that he'd imagined so many times.
He had her scant articles of clothing off in no time.
"Going commando?" he asked her with a grin, but not pressing her on it. He had to act suitably oblivious. He spread her long legs apart. Her bald pussy was still slightly red, obviously wet with some description of fluid between the folds of her labia.
He couldn't help but moan when he sank into her warm cunt. He had slid in so easily. And knowing that at least half of that lubrication was the product of some other guy using her like public property was incredible. He thrust into her a few times, unable to believe how good she felt, how hyper-sensitive his cock was right now to every contour of that vaginal tunnel. How another guy had JUST felt this same exact thing, got this same pleasure from her. And she just had to let him do it. He pulled out slightly, and noticed an obvious white froth had built up around the base of his shaft.
"Oh you're really creaming for me, babe," he said, knowing how stupid he sounded. It didn't matter. The more oblivious she thought he was, the better the coming weeks would be.
And great they were. That day he came within minutes, adding his load to the one already harbored within her, and he took her again a second time right after before he let her get up to shower. Over the next few weeks this experience was repeated time and again, the guy on the other side of the building ever escalating what he could get away with. What he would make her do. And Kevin reaping the beautifully used, sloppy remnants of what was left to him, his pleasure always proportionally increased the more he saw her put through that day.
Each time, the guy barely gave Kattie time to get home before Kevin got there, so he nearly always had a freshly planted creampie to fuck deeper into her. He'd never had a cuckold fetish per se, or thought that the idea of fucking a girl filled with another guy's cum would seem cool, but with Kattie it was just a symbol of her degradation, her disgrace, and he loved knowing he was fucking it deeper into her. That she hated it but couldn't say anything.
She of course couldn't back out of the arrangement, no matter what the guy did. Sometimes he fucked her quickly, as a last minute thing, not even making her take her clothes off. Just slipping her shorts down a bit or hiking her skirt up to access her goods. By the fourth time she went over he'd already introduced new friends of his to the scenario. After that she was getting gangfucked every single time, then sent straight to her boyfriend with her holes freshly used by multiple men. It was like heroin for Kevin. She would beg them to use condoms, saying she was scared of catching some disease she might give her boyfriend, but of course they didn't care. They told her she didn't get to make choices. Some of the guys were the same ones she'd fucked the first time, but he also introduced a few completely new guys into the rotation, and soon her number had gone from 290 to 302. There were usually three of them at a time, one for each hole, but just a few trips added up to 12 new cocks quite quickly. Counting the original guys, it was 18 different dudes cycling out over those two months, fucking her three or four at a time, three or more sessions a week. The guy assured her that all these guys would be discreet, and she'd probably never even encounter them outside of this.
"They all go to school on the other side of town anyway."
She was kept well-fucked indeed. Kevin loved watching how thoroughly they would fuck her, how careless of her comfort or hygiene. They would swap from her pussy to her asshole and back, or go from her asshole to her mouth, like it was nothing. Never washing their dicks off between holes. Something so filthy 99% of girls would never let you do it. But Kattie couldn't say a thing. She just had to let herself be desecrated. Kevin would fuck her pussy later, knowing he'd just seen some other guy ramrod it full of her own assjuice just an hour earlier.
They fucked her roughly, too, of course. Not so rough that incredibly obvious marks were left on her body, nothing he couldn't ignore, but rough. They seemed to particularly enjoy spearing into her holes with as much vigor as they could, shaking her hole body with each thrust, really beating her pussy and asshole up. He wanted to fuck her that hard, but he knew he couldn't without drawing attention. It would be out of character for him. But he enjoyed that these guys fucked her rough for him. He loved watching her gingerly walk around the days after, with those sore, heavily used holes between her legs, trying not to reveal that anything was off. Or trying not to wince when Kevin took round two on those very same holes, right after the other guys. She weakly tried to get him to use a condom a couple times, giving some lame excuse about not trusting her birth control, but he cluelessly rebuffed her ideas. She just had to fuck him bare, fearing the whole time that she would transfer him some disease and reveal her infidelity.
After the second month came to an end, the guy really did move. Kevin had half expected that that would be a lie, but one day he made a post on the forum telling everyone that sadly, his fun with Kattie was over, and he'd be heading back to his hometown.
"Of course, that doesn't mean I'm really letting Kattie off the hook. Here's her address. Have fun guys, do as you will."
The address was posted below, along with a pin on a map and pictures of the outside of the building, as well as the code to get inside.
"She asked for it. It would be a shame for me to deny her deepest wishes."
As much as Kevin loved the idea of strangers from the Internet showing up at her door to fuck her, he wasn't ready for things to escalate to that level. He still had his own plans for her.
That very day he asked her to move in with him. He lived about eight blocks from her. Not terribly far, but obviously far enough away that if anyone from the forum actually did drive there to find her, they'd likely be out of luck. She agreed, obviously relieved that things seemed to be turning around for her. Her tormentor was gone and her boyfriend seemed to be escalating their relationship. Maybe things would work out for her after all.
Kevin thought they'd continue to escape forced escalation for a while longer, but he knew he had to act soon. It was time to start pulling the strings himself.
*
Things slowly returned to normal for Kattie. Four months after the guy moved away, she let herself begin to think it would be ok again. It seemed he had really kept his word. She'd doubted he would, of course, but nothing had happened to her in four months. Kevin didn't know, no one else had approached her. She really hadn't even seen any of the other guys. It had been a scary, but ultimately insignificant experience. So what if some more guys had nudes of her? They'd just be joining the countless amount of those already out there. And what difference did it really make if she'd been fucked by 284 guys or 302? She still hoped that she didn't catch a disease. It was an isolated incident, and wasn't going to be repeated. The guy never told anyone. Maybe her and Kevin could move out to the countryside one day, and she'd never have to worry about someone recognizing her again.
Life was going pretty well. She had a serious boyfriend, a social life with new friends who, if not exactly close, were at least comfortable. Maybe she'd be alright. Four months with no incident. An isolated thing. Maybe she could quit looking over her shoulder all the time.
Living with Kevin had been nice. She hadn't expected him to suddenly ask her to move in with him. She had felt closer to him than normal lately. Maybe it was just the living together, but he seemed to be getting more serious about her in general. He had always been a good lover, but in the last couple weeks especially he had become very attentive to her, seeming to take deep relish in just running his hands over her body, feeling her. She'd been having some weird side effects from her birth control, headaches and the like, and she'd been surprised when Kevin had recently encouraged her to just get off of it for a while.
"I don't mind going back to condoms for a while," he'd said.
She'd been off of it for the last several weeks now, and she did feel better. Kevin seemed to not mind the condoms, but she was sure he was just doing it to care for her. Of course he'd rather not use one. She knew that she was currently ovulating. Sex with him that morning had been slightly scary, even with the condom.
It was their one year anniversary of dating that day. When he called her while he was at work and told her to get ready for a special dinner that night, that he had something really special planned for her, her heart fluttered. The way he'd said it. She didn't want to let herself get too hopeful, but she couldn't help it. He might really be popping the question. He'd been dropping hints for weeks. He'd asked her to move in with him four months ago, for god's sake. It wasn't exactly a stretch. When she hung up she just smiled to herself, allowing herself to imagine a bright future.
They began getting ready soon after he got home from work. He told her to dress up, that it was a nice place.
"Also, and I splurged a little bit here, but I got us a penthouse at the Four Seasons for the weekend. All-inclusive."
Her eyes lit up and she ran over and jumped up into his arms, planting a kiss on his face.
"You're amazing," she told him.
"That's not the big surprise though," he told her. "I don't want you to think that. The penthouse is just something extra."
Her heart skipped a beat. He had to be asking her. What could be a bigger surprise than an all-inclusive penthouse at a five star hotel for the whole weekend?
She felt like she was glowing the whole time she got ready that evening. She noticed Kevin watching her several times as she dressed herself. She smiled at him. He seemed to be enthralled just watching her, as if the outfit she chose was something of particular interest to him. She was wearing a new dress, a tight black thing that hugged her hips and ended just above her knees. Gold, open-toe stilettos. Glossy, dark red polish on her finger and toenails. A cheeky black choker around her neck. Her hair straightened and done up in an elaborate Chinese-style bun high on her head. She finished applying her lipstick, glancing from her own reflection to his where he sat on the bed watching her. She pressed her lips together, finalizing the perfect kissable mouth. She winked at him in the mirror. He smiled back at her, a strange, almost unreadable look in his eyes.
Dinner in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant somewhere near the waterfront. They had a private booth tucked away deep in the confines of the interior. Kevin kept his eyes on her nearly the whole evening, seemingly admiring her and smiling slightly. She leaned forward eagerly, staring back into his eyes as they talked, their hands held across the table.
They ate. They split a bottle of wine. Her head was swimming slightly and she felt a warmness flowing all around her by the time he finally reached down into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He slid out of the booth and knelt down next to her.
"Garden," he said, opening the box to reveal the ring. "Will you marry me?"
She felt tears filling her eyes. She just nodded, enthusiastically, unable to speak, and fell into his arms as he rose up, kissing him. He slipped the ring onto her finger and she admired it, almost not believing it, holding her other hand to her mouth. They began kissing again.
Wind will rise in the streets, grass will grow wherever the things of man once stood.
Wander on. She was in a haze of happiness as they left. She leaned on his shoulder as they walked the wharves in the night, watching the boats going on out of sight in the dark through the luminescent strands of light on the water. They watched from a bench, in no hurry. She sank against him, buzzing, letting herself imagine a future away from everything. Away even from a thing that she carried with her forever, somehow.
It was near midnight by the time they got to their hotel. The penthouse had its own entrance around back, a small room accessible by card or keycode that led straight to a private elevator that would take them to their quarters at the top of the building.
They went up. Theirs was the only door in the small foyer at the top. Kevin slowly approached the door, rested a hand on the knob for a moment before turning to her.
"Close your eyes as we go in," he said. There was a strange smile on his face.
"Ha....alright," she said, wondering what he could have in there. She closed her eyes, a slight smile on her lips. She heard him open the door, then he guided her in with a hand at her back.
A great roar of mirth went up as she entered, loosed from a crowd of throats. She jumped, completely startled, her eyes snapping open. At first she was just completely confused. There was a huge crowd of people inside, filling the very spacious suite to well beyond its intended capacity, easily a hundred people or more. Her initial thought was that they had accidentally intruded upon the wrong penthouse by mistake, that this was some company's banquet or party, but then she noticed that she recognized several of the faces in the room. She kept scanning the crowd. It seemed to be most of the people she'd become acquainted with in Boston -- her coworkers, new friends. They were all looking at her with big grins on their faces.
She looked at Kevin in confusion, wondering if he had for some reason arranged a big surprise party for their engagement. He just grinned down at her, a hard, cold look in his eyes that was so different from the way he normally looked at her. No...who would all these people even be? She didn't know a fraction of this amount of people in Boston.
By this time they had wandered a few feet into the room, Kattie walking half in a daze. By the time she looked up and noticed the banner on the wall, "WELCOME Kattie FANCLUB! CONDOMS OPTIONAL!", someone had already closed the door behind her and people had already slid in front of it. Not that she would have been able to even walk at this moment. She felt completely paralyzed. The full enormity of what was happening slowly washed over her.
Faces surrounding her, leering at her. Mostly strangers, but peppered everywhere with people she knew. People she thought liked and respected her. She was completely lightheaded, and if Kevin hadn't been holding her from behind she would have fallen over. A small but serious looking camera crew was over there, already pointing their equipment in her direction. Big flat screen televisions were mounted on the walls in various spots. She just now noticed them. They were all playing different footage of her being gangfucked, her red hair swirling among the naked flesh of strangers. Different scenes of degradation being enjoyed passively by the onlookers present here today. Some people were wearing t shirts with screen-printed images of her own face, completely covered in a mask of cum. "Kattie Duval, Web ," they read.
She didn't know what to say, what to do. She just turned and looked at Kevin, a look of confusion and utter betrayal written on her features, hoping that somehow he would be the person she had thought he was only a few minutes ago, that he would somehow still protect her, whisk her away to another reality where this hadn't happened. But he didn't, of course. He shrugged at her.
"Yeah I've always known," he said. "Get comfortable. I've got this place booked for the next 48 hours, and can extend it if need be. The address is posted online, has been for a few days. People have been excited about this for a long minute. Others will still be arriving, of course. You're not leaving here until you've made good on your promise to fuck every single person who wants to take you up on it. And it's a shame you're off birth control and ovulating, isn't it? I don't think a lot of these guys are going to be too careful with you."
She heard his words, but it still didn't feel real to her. Only minutes before, her world had been the opposite of this. Could it really flip so fast? Was this a dream? She rubbed her fingers together, hard, hoping to wake herself up. Her head swirled. An electric feeling in her groin as she looked around at all the faces, despite everything. Of course you would. Someone handed her a beer, but it fell right out of her hands. She sank to the floor.
"Give her a minute," Kevin said, cracking open a beer for himself and stepping away from her. They all looked at her there in a heap on the floor, dressed so nicely, such care given to her appearance. "We've got plenty of time with her."
[Anyone care to help me post more chapter? Buy me a cup of coffee or two?
https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/dl/invite/2NZmgOl?ref_=wl_share
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Kattie's New Life Begins Chapter 2
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Posted:May 5, 2024 12:50 pm
Last Updated:May 8, 2024 12:59 pm 1953 Views
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[Continued from "Kattie's Abduction Fantasy", a must read before this one.]
Kevin prepared for his date night scheduled later that evening with Kattie the way he usually did - by browsing through a few of the dozens upon dozens of webpages dedicated to documenting her body and sexual escapades in incredible detail, and to perpetuating her humiliation and exposure forever. He had a strong feeling that she had entered such a state of blissed-out denial of her whole situation that she wasn't even aware of the volume of content out there about her. She had pushed it all away as a means of coping with it, and had let herself imagine that the videos and pictures were a flash in the pan that would soon or had already subsided into obscure corners of the web.
She couldn't be more wrong. If she just worked up the nerve to Google her real name again she would lose any sense of optimism. There were dedicated and growing fanbases centered around her and her story. New websites were being added repackaging and exhibiting her story. Something about it all fascinated people far more than the usual pornstar would. No, there was something very special, very erotic and profane about Kattie's disgraceful downfall, and untold numbers of people out there felt that way. Perusing all that material, all that discussion and the crude comments about his girlfriend was the hottest, most thrilling kind of foreplay imaginable. He couldn't wait to take her out to dinner that night, subtly glancing around the room, wondering if anyone present recognized and knew the truth about her. There was always a good chance that someone at any given place, any given time could.
And of course she had no idea he knew any of this. She thought her awful secret was safe.
The fact that Kattie hadn't yet been treated to daily, uninvited dickings by complete strangers was just a product of momentary circumstances. He knew that the situation would soon turn against her, irreversibly, but this brief window of relative peace had allowed her to think she was safe, that no one recognized her.
He knew for a fact, though, that people did recognize her. At least from time to time. This was evident by the occasional posting by someone on one of the forums, posting a candid picture they'd secretly taken of her after spotting her in public somewhere. They'd tracked her, in a delayed manner, of course, across all of her various movements since fleeing California, trying to stay updated on what she looked like now, what name she was going by, and what she was up to. The obsession was real. And the stuff he saw on these forums was just from the die-hards. Surely a good handful of people who were casually aware of her saw her per day, and at least wondered in the back of their minds if it was her.
The reason no one had confronted her since being in Boston or full on taken her for an impromptu fucking was, he thought, for a few reasons. First: the name and appearance changes did take a little time to follow. And although her super dedicated fanbase was large enough, it was still pretty small compared to the size of the population of the earth, and the vast majority of those invested enough to actually seek her out and fuck her were nowhere near Boston. Second: most people probably are somewhat timid about it and not willing to actually confront her out of the blue like that even if they do recognize her and know about her open invitation. That takes a certain level of confidence, even still. But third, and most importantly: there was little precedent for it. Once a few people had taken the plunge and posted evidence, proving that she was good for it and the cops weren't going to intervene (and from his knowledge of the local PD, they definitely weren't), the floodgates would open. And he knew it was only a matter of time until that precedent got set. Allof these ideas were talked about. Things were stirring in those forums.
It was only a matter of time until it was widely shared that she was in Boston, but he hadn't seen it posted yet. The endless discussion and sharing of her pictures, her videos, digging up old photos from her Facebook, detailing fantasies of what they'd do to her if they found her or what they think other people should do to her. All this continued uninterrupted.
He picked Kattie, or Garden, as he had to call her, up at 8pm from her apartment. She was dressed cute, like she always was - a girly dress under a black peacoat, her legs covered in black leggings and tucked into some black pumps. Her dirty blonde hair fell in tousled waves, framing her delicate face, her lips painted red. The same delicate face that so many people had seen floating in the background of pictures above her spread pussy lips, or her puckered asshole. Had seen deepthroating countless cocks, or covered in a thick mass of cum. The disparity between all that and the cutesy, elegant image she wanted to project to the world was intoxicating to him. No matter how much she prettied herself up or tried to cover herself, she would always be that massively exploited, public knowledge .
He always thought about this while he was out with her. As they walked down the street in the brisk, early autumn air, heading toward a semi-fancy spot they frequented, he looked into her smiling face, her twinkling, adoring eyes, and gave her a kiss, imagining all the other cocks those lips had been wrapped around. How many more they would have to be wrapped around before the world was done with her.
He put his arm around her and glanced around at some of the other people on the street. Had any of them seen a hugely detailed picture of the inside of her vagina? Had any of them seen a video of her getting fisted, declaring to the camera that anyone who wanted her had permission to fuck her, with no preamble, for the rest of her life, even if she said NO when they tried? The possibility was there, definitely.
He knew it was only a matter of time until someone did it. Only a matter of time until someone shoved her into one of these alleys late one night and took her up on that perpetually standing offer that she couldn't take back, try as she might. Or when they recognized her at a club. Or while she was drunk at a party - let her pass out on a bed with her legs spread and give her cunt to every guy present.
Only a matter of time, and the fucked up thing was that he relished it. He got excited every time he knew she would be walking somewhere alone at night, thinking this might be the time. He knew his presence obviously deterred would-be assailants. He wondered if she would even tell him if it happened, or try to hide the whole thing in an attempt to prevent the full story getting out. He relished the thought of it all coming back to haunt her, with no escape possible. Loved the idea of her being the town , that such a fate clashed so severely with her personality and even her chief desires. That shameful little firing of certain pathways deep in her brain, the part of her that wanted to be treated like meat, would be the one that dictated her ultimate fate in the end. It made it hotter that she obviously regretted it, or had been coerced into it, or whatever the real story was.
He realized that he had always loved the concept of the "village slut," or the girl with a reputation. He'd had a girlfriend back in high school, a real pretty girl with a nice demeanor, who everyone knew as a slut. He'd heard what everyone, including all his friends, said about her before they'd started dating. It was hot to him to know that everyone just thought of her as a fucktoy, and knew that she'd been with a lot of guys. He remembered a time when another girl had pulled her top off of her at a swim party, and how he had jerked off that night in confusion to the memory of all those people seeing his girlfriend's tits. Her brief little disgrace. He must have gotten the fetish from her.
But with Kattie, the situation was magnified so many more times. His old girlfriend had maybe fucked 20 guys and everyone called her a slut back then. Kattie had fucked at least 250, and maybe as many as 300, by the calculations of her fans online. There was a little uncertainty, but they knew it was at least 250. Plus all the different men's cum she had drank, men who hadn't wanted to actually make physical contact. And of course all the untold millions who had seen her nudity, had the most degrading footage of her saved to their harddrives. That knowledge alone was incredible to him. He'd sometimes jack off imagining how high her number of partners would eventually go. How many people around the world would see her disgrace, and in what new ways. She was not done producing content for them, oh no, not by a long shot. Even if she thought she was.
His fetish had achieved its perfect form in her, too, because it wasn't tainted by jealousy. He loved the idea of the slutty, used up girl, but he had always been conflicted by the possibility of the girl leaving him. After all, if she loved dick so much, she might just drop him when she found a better one. But with Kattie, he knew this wouldn't happen. She wanted to escape it. She just couldn't help it. So the more shamed, exposed, used, and degraded she became, the more thrilling it was for him, with nothing tempering it. Her sluttiness and objectification was simply hot.
When they got to the restaurant he smiled at her in the dim lighting across the table. She looked so beautiful, classically beautiful. The flirty little smile on her face so adorable, the light playing off of her strong, high cheekbones. The strange thing about it all was that he really did feel quite strongly about her. Probably loved her, whatever that meant. But he relished her degradation. He couldn't help it. The fact that he was so close to her made all those profane scenes on the internet that much more erotic. All this humiliation happened to HER, his girlfriend, the girl he gets to fuck. It's different when you just read the story about someone you don't know.
He thought it was cute and funny that Kattie tricked herself into thinking that she wasn't as widespread as she was. She thought she could walk down the street, securely wrapped up, covered from head to toe, but she might as well be walking down the street ass naked for all that was worth. He noticed the occasional lingering glances from passersby. The double takes. She was absolutely deluding herself if she thought she could hide herself. Every time he went out in public on a date with her like this, it was like automatic foreplay the whole time.
He couldn't wait to get home and fuck the dogshit out of her, thinking of all those videos, all the people in the world watching footage of her at that very moment, seeing her subjected to all those insane things. So many people taking whatever they wanted from her. Her complete lack of power over her own body, her own sexuality. Her reluctant but irresistible participation. He didn't know why it turned him on so much.
Sex was always incredible. He would always jack off before meeting up with her, because if he didn't he wouldn't be able to last two minutes, after a whole evening of filth running through his head. He loved fucking her bareback, feeling those used goods directly. Knowing how many other guys out there wanted to get this same thing from her, instead appeasing themselves with hours of footage of her being fucked brutally, or inspecting these very same holes in those perfectly revealing documentation pictures. The concern of getting a disease didn't even matter as much to him as fucking her raw. He had to do it. She had been self conscious about it the first time he floated the idea of losing the condom, trying to convince him that they should without giving her game away. The next week he had presented her with a clean bill of health for himself, so she couldn't even pretend she wanted a condom for her own protection. So she gave in, and just hoped that he wouldn't catch anything, thus outing her. She had told him that she'd only been with one other guy. What a joke. So he fucked her unprotected, imagining everything he'd seen done to these holes by countless others. The wet inner flesh of her pussy hugging and gliding up and down his cock. Knowing this exact feeling of extreme intimacy was what she had given to so many other cocks.
"Whatchya thinkin' about?" she asked suddenly, smiling at him as she munched on a piece of bread, bringing him sharply back to the restaurant, to his surroundings. His mind had obviously been wandering visibly.
'That video of you chugging the cum of 60 men,' he thought in response, but what he said was: "How beautiful you are." He delivered it cornily, knowing she would eat it up. It wasn't a lie either. He was just thinking about more than that.
She blushed. "Awe," she said, wrinkling her nose at him. "You're so sweet."
He tried to remain engaged with her, giving adequate responses to her playful queries, trying to initiate some of his own. But still, the whole time his mind wandered, as it almost always did while he was out with her. He couldn't stop his imagination. When the waiter came and took their orders, Kevin imagined the odds of whether or not he had seen Kattie's shame. Whether there was some inkling of recognition in his eyes that he was suppressing. He could have come across it anywhere. It was frequently trending on general porn sites, even now. And if he Googled her real name he would find page after page after page. HD pictures, or video, your choice. DP, TP, anything you could think of, basically, you could probably find video of it happening to her.
He had to credit those guys, they'd documented her fabulously, and evidently knew how to spread that shit. And now she was even starting to pop up in enticing advertising for porn sites. This will increase her exposure by ten fold. And there she sat, smiling dumbly at the waiter as she ordered. He suspected she had no clue how bad it really was. She might as well get naked and spread her legs wide on this table for the whole restaurant to see her pussy. That's what in effect was already a reality for her. The search results were so good that even generic searches like "vagina" or "asshole" turned hers up as one of the top three results usually. She was the exemplary, case study vagina for the whole human race. Literally hundreds of millions of people had seen the pussy sitting two feet away from him in incredible detail, seen her taken cock after cock, seen that same smiling face above it all. He smiled at her as they handed their menus to the waiter. It was like foreplay as he looked at her sitting there all proper. He couldn't wait to get home and feel those mass-consumed holes from the inside.
They ate and split a bottle of wine between them, and by the time they left to walk home Kattie was visibly tipsy, laughing and leaning against him as they went down the road. He held her with one arm around her shoulders. It was so much better than a normal relationship, even though he knew most guys would think he was crazy for thinking so. It added an incredible spice. Every time he saw his girlfriend he could get horny, just by looking at her fully dressed. How many other guys could say that? He was turned on by her various outfits, the different ways she took pride in her appearance, dressing cute but conservative, while at the same time he knew she was just covering herself in the most futile way possible. As if she could ever hide her nudity again. Just knowing that any of the guys passing them on the street could see what was beneath her little peacoat as surely as if he had an xray. That many of them probably had seen it at some point. Forget the rabid but somewhat niche fanbase that actively discusses her and tracks her whereabouts, the footage itself was very widespread on mainstream porn sites, often trending on the front page. And every guy looked at porn. Chances are the majority of every guy she encountered had seen some of it at some point or another. Whether or not their memory was triggered or they recognized her was another question, of course. And surely at least a couple a day did completely recognize and know who she was, but just didn't say anything to her.
The full footage of her ordeal had been edited into several smaller videos, although long cuts existed as well. There were curated versions where you could jump to specific parts, like her fisting or her bukakke. One of the most popular edits was just all the footage of the closeup inspections of her body. It didn't even include the fucking. Apparently some guys just really get off to the painstaking inspection of a shamed, red-faced woman's body. And he was glad they did. There were even full websites dedicated to her that included the footage of her parts along with full clarity still images. You just chose which part of her body you wanted to see from the menu and had a plethora of perfect quality closeups of that thing presented to you. Kattie Duval's Asshole. Kattie Duval's Pussy. Pussy spread. Her Feet. Cervix. Nipples. Tongue. Asshole gaped. Everything imaginable, all in 4k, perfectly detailed images that you could just keep zooming into without losing clarity. He'd set his computer wallpaper to be an ultra HD photo that was just the bottom of her right big toe dominating almost 100% of the screen. Zoomed in so close that you couldn't even really tell what it was without context. But it was in such detail that you could see every groove, every whorl of her toe print, like crevices. The picture alone with no context wasn't hot, but knowing that THIS was the level of detail that every other part of her body was documented in was incredible to him, and he loved to be reminded of it. There was enough detail in this picture to convict her of a crime if she left toeprints walking barefoot at the scene of it.
He looked at her seemingly innocent face smiling up at him. The fact that this girl, who was very demure and shy in her daily life, had every minute detail of her body documented in more detail than the most prolific pornstars, committed forever to the internet, was just something else. As strange as it sounded to say it, she really probably had the most widely and deeply documented body in human history. He bet she didn't even have any idea how bad it was. How many websites, how many views, how many followers. She could wear whatever clothes she wanted, but she could never really cover herself again. At any moment anyone could just pull out their smartphone and see exactly what was beneath them. No matter how classy she tried to pass herself as, she could be reduced back to that degenerate at any second by anyone with a smartphone. And this could never be reversed, ever. Her whole life would be defined by it.
So keep dressing cute, he thought. Wear your little boots and your coats or dresses or whatever you want. It won't ever matter again. Anyone who wants can undress you in seconds.
They got to her apartment, and she decided she wanted to get comfortable and watch TV for a while, maybe drink a little more wine. He was fine with this. He kicked off his shoes and plopped on the couch while she changed into a cute little nightie, just long enough to cover her ass. She turned down the lights then cuddled up next to him, tucking her feet up beside her and leaning against him, newly opened wine bottle in her hand.
They lay there for a couple hours, Kevin letting the images flash across his eyes and light up his face, his mind, as usual, racing with filthy thoughts about the girl leaning against his shoulder. She had to be in denial about it all now. He knew she was on anti-anxiety medication. It must have allowed her to convince herself that the whole thing would slip away quietly, that she'd never be noticed or at least never confronted. That she could just start a new life, leave Kattie Duval behind.
He'd seen that video she'd posted months later. Of her crying in her apartment in Philly, saying she wished it hadn't happened. The forums had blown up over that. No one believed that she didn't want it, not really. Regretted it, sure. Kevin wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd seen the evidence that dom Daniel had posted, when people had questioned the legality and consensual nature of her original gangbang. The full initial interview where Kattie's video image was asking that they do it, that she wanted it. That they would not get paid if they came out of character. It's all what she wanted. It was pretty irrefutable. None of them had sympathy for her. Kevin felt sympathy on some level, but at the higher level of action, the level that would guide his behavior, he was perversely thrilled even more by her regret. It made it hotter that she wasn't just some unrepentant hoe. She really wanted to be a normal girl again. But she couldn't be.
He stroked her hair gently, tucking it behind her ear. What a mess she'd gotten herself into. However it had really happened. Wherever that slutty, self-destructive side of her was, it was buried deep. She'd only ever been proper and demure in his experience with her. That's why it was so great. It seemed so wrong. He loved that so many people had seen this introverted girl in all her natural glory, had been in her, felt her from the inside. Loved that she wanted to hide it, run from it. She wanted so badly for her pussy to be special again, but it wasn't. And it never could be again. And it made some sadistic urge in him rise to the surface. It made him want to worsen her situation for her. But slowly, and at the right time. He wouldn't have cared as much if she'd been an unconflicted, enthusiastic participant. This was hotter. She would hate herself more with every new dick she took, but she wouldn't be able to stop it. He knew she was unassertive and conflicted and confused enough that she would just comply with any sexual propositions, but even if she didn't, no cops would take her seriously. Even if she went to them, which she probably wouldn't. She literally had videos out there of her begging people to nc fuck her. The police would quickly find that she was some weird kink freak and tell her to quit wasting their time. Not to involve them in her fucked up fantasies.
And so the hypothetical dickings would continue unimpeded. The ball just had to get rolling. Once it was, he couldn't wait to see how she would adapt to it. Would she just finally lean into it, once it became consistent and inevitable, knowing it was easier to just sink into her depravity than to continue to try to run from it in futility her whole life?
When the movie finally ended they started making out, gently at first, but soon getting heavier. Finally they started getting sexual. She was on her knees beneath him in front of the couch, blowing him expertly, looking up with her big brown eyes, holding eye contact with him.
"You're so amazing," he moaned, meaning it. "How are you so good at this? Do you promise you've only been with one guy?"
She blushed and gave him a light play slap on his thigh, not stopping sucking. Not answering. She hated to lie. He loved toying with her like this. One guy. Give me a break. More like 300. He loved watching her squirm when he said it. Wondering what guilty thoughts were running through her head.
Later she was on top of him, riding him raw, his dick sunk into that same wet, used up fuckhole that had been taken by so many others before him. That was destined to be taken by so many more. Mr. 300? Only she knew the exact number, but it was around there. The guys online were trying to piece it together. They aspired to keep an accurate running tally. What would her number eventually be? She was 25 years old now. Would she make it out of her 20s with under a thousand partners? She didn't know it yet, but it wasn't likely at all. He gripped her asscheeks hard, and with a gasping moan shot his load inside of her.
Just like all the others.
More weeks passed. The relationship progressed much like a normal one. They seemed to be a great fit for one another. But he knew he would throw it all away to achieve the deepest level of perverse sexual fulfillment he would ever have a shot at. It would take her ruin in order to do it.
More often he found himself catching lingering looks from passersby. He knew things were catching up to her. It wasn't uncommon now for him to see comments on her videos on mainstream porn sites of people commenting her name, and saying they hear she lives in Boston now. Another chimed in that he has seen her, or thought it was her walking down Tremont Street. Oh my, close to home Keving thought. Not long now until someone sees her and works up the nerve to take her up on a free fuck. And how that news would spread.
They'd been dating six months when he finally saw basically incontrovertible evidence that she'd been recognized. They were at a bar one night with some friends, the six of them sitting at a big round booth table together. Kattie was sitting beside him, with the profile of her face to most of the room, but he was sitting with his back to the wall, staring out. They were trying to be somewhat subtle, but a group of three drunk guys at the bar were pretty obviously looking over at them, at Kattie specifically. Kevin tried to act like he wasn't paying attention to them, but every time he could he watched them.
One of them had his phone out, and the three of them were looking down at it and then back up at Kattie, first with some incredulity, but then growing excitement and astonishment on their faces. Kevin could lip-read one of them saying "Holy fuck, you're right."
They kept flipping through the phone for a while, frequently glancing back up at Kattie with lecherous, triumphant smiles. At one point one of them tapped the shoulder of some other guy and then slyly pointed toward Kattie, said something, then showed the guy the phone.
Kevin's heart was racing. Holy fuck, was this it? Were they going to come call her out, even with him and their friends sitting here? Was it all going to come crashing down? He'd had his own plans for her fate, but if these guys jumped the gun here that would be exciting in its own way. Crushing her with panic and humiliation in front of all these people.
His dick had grown hard in his pants. He knew that at that moment those guys were seeing Kattie's pussy in incredible detail, maybe her cervix, or her face covered in cum, or her taking three dicks at once. All while she sat there oblivious, slightly buzzed and happy, socializing with her friends, thinking she was safe from all that.
Nothing much ended up happening, to Kevin's slight disappointment. In the end he decided it was better though. He had much grander plans for her. The guys had casually strolled past their booth, and gave Kattie awkwardly long, weird smiles, but that was all. No one really thought anything of it.
But Kevin thought of it much, and it aroused in him ever more these fantasies of creeping inevitability, things in the quick of their becoming. A long walk home from there, distracted farewells. In dreams that night he sees the nc fucked beauty eviscerate on the floor before him, long legs thrown wide as if in exhaustion, her plundered genitals pink and gleaming and engorged, given in their totality with no discretion. Around her walk faceless figures. Coming, receding. Some just there to look, all of them silent. Through a crack in a door he sees a long line of like figures stretching away into the somnambulant haze. Can they see me, he wonders. And do they see the things in absentia that have made me what I am? My god, my god. He wakes to a stranger world yet.
In the next weeks he was now more and more on the lookout for people recognizing her, which he suspected would be increasing in regularity. He also of course trolled the main forums about Kattie on a daily basis. He sees the usual fare, people sharing new collages they've made of her, normal pictures juxtaposed with new combinations of smut. Someone selling one of the used pairs of panties stolen from her apartment during the gangbang, "sealed to preserve scent." Then one day he saw something that caught his eye.
Candids. Very recent ones. Her with the blonde hair, in a bar, oblivious to the fact that someone nearby was taking a photo of her. And there he was in the picture, sitting with her. It was taken that night, a couple weeks before. The guy was bragging about having seen her in the accompanying post.
"Yeah," it read. "I couldn't believe my eyes. I showed my buddies who were with me. Just told them she was in some notorious amateur porn. They didn't believe me until I showed them her videos. They were floored. I thought about saying something to her, but I chickened out. She was with a bunch of people at Cheers. I didn't want to look like a huge creep, just coming up to a group of strangers and talking about porn. If I see her around the neighborhood alone sometime I will definitely confront her though. Will keep hanging out at popular bars and such in the area. I'll probably run into her again. Her and her friends were all on foot, so I know she lives nearby. Will keep you guys updated with more info or candid pics when I get them. This is Kattie in Boston proof. More info coming soon, hopefully."
Kevin excitedly browsed the rest of the comments, a bulge growing in his pants. People were excited too, giving the commenter filthy suggestions on what to do to her, inventive ways to humiliate her. All of them very bold from across the internet, of course.
Kevin knew he would be taking Kattie out to a lot of bars this week. The possibility of this guy seeing her again, sneaking pictures of her, possibly doing worse if given the chance, was too thrilling to pass up.
So they went out several times that week, more than normal, Kevin trying to press it to just be her and him, no other friends. It would make it easier to manipulate the situation. For the first few nights nothing happened. Kevin kept an eye out for the guy but never saw him anywhere. Nor did he see anyone seeming to pay particular attention to them. He was a little disappointed, wondering if the guy was even actually out on the prowl for her.
Finally, on the sixth night they'd gone out to a bar in ten days, just when Kattie was starting to wonder why Kevin had suddenly got such an itch for going out, he spotted him. He was sitting at the bar again, alone this time, trying to covertly glance over at them where they were sitting alone at a hightop table near the windows. Kevin tried not to let his eyes linger on the guy, but he watched him from the corner of his eye. He saw him raise his phone up briefly, obviously snapping a picture. Then he bent down and began typing something.
Kattie was in a good mood tonight, luckily. She'd gotten a raise at work, and was in the mood for having fun. He knew it wouldn't be hard to keep her here for a long time. Get her drunk. See what happened.
He checked his phone briefly, confident she couldn't see what he was looking at. The guy had made a new thread. "Guys, target sighted." Inside was a candid picture, taken just minutes ago, of them sitting right here at this table. It was focused on her, of course, but you could just see part of Kevin's head in the photo.
Kevin tried to keep his face neutral, but his heart was racing. The excitement, the potential of the night, was slowly rising in him. Fresh humiliation for Kattie. For Garden. Her fans would see her like this, wearing these clothes, with her blonde hair, her new identity, ready to heap fresh filth on her. It was no longer some fabled thing from the past, he was witness to some small part of the story now.
"You know what, let's get drunk tonight, I feel like really having a good time!" Kevin announced loudly to Kattie, loud enough that their covert photographer could hear him. "I'll buy all night." He wanted to give the guy hope for sticking around, hope that he might be able to get bold with a drunk Kattie. She gave him an amused and slightly surprised smile, but then shrugged.
"Hey, why not."
She leaned across the table and kissed him on the lips, lingering near his face to gaze up coyly into his eyes. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom for a second."
He watched her stand up and walk across the room. He was pretty pleased with her outfit. A tight little black dress that served as top and skirt, with the chest partially open but crossed with thin straps in a fountain-like pattern, with a built in choker-style bit that wrapped around her throat. The skirt only went about halfway down to her knees. It wasn't revealing enough to be slutty of course, she never wore stuff like that, but it was still pushing her normal boundaries, and she was definitely eye catching in it. She was wearing little black boots on her feet. He smiled to himself as he and the other guy watched her walk away. She had no idea what audience she was dressing up for tonight.
Kevin leaned back in his chair and casually glanced at his phone as he sipped his beer. The guy not 25 feet away from his had posted again.
"She's here with some dude. Poor guy probably has no idea how much mileage that pussy has on it. They seem to be planning on getting drunk though. Hopefully I can get some good footage. If they get up and head over to the dancefloor soon I'll start streaming video. I bet I could at least upskirt her pretty easy in that dress. Bet the nasty slut isn't even wearing panties! A few of my buddies are gonna come too. Stay tuned."
Kevin put his phone away and ordered another round of drinks. A double shot in Kattie's.
She was a lightweight with alcohol. She came back to the table and by the time she'd finished this second drink he could tell she was already pretty affected. Her voice grew louder the way it did when she was drunk, and she held her words out longer, verging on a slur.
Another drink. The guy had since been joined by two other guys, who sat with him and also tried to subtly watch them. Kattie was still clueless. They got up a couple times to go dance briefly, their stalkers circling like vultures, still too tepid to get too close.
After they'd returned to their table to down their fourth round, he had an idea. Kattie was good and lit now, smiling stupidly, unable to stop, singing along loudly to the song that was playing. He leaned in and spoke conspiratorially in her ear.
"Hey babe, you know what would be really hot?"
She gave him exaggerated seductive eyebrows.
"Whaaat?"
"Why don't you go in the bathroom and take off your panties? Go commando for the rest of the night."
Her mouth hung down in a shocked but slightly mischievous glare.
"Your skirt is long enough that no one will see under there. But it would be so naughty and hot to me knowing you were feeling their air under there, while none of these people know."
He could see the gears turning in her hazed, swimming brain. He could see the slight hesitation in her eyes, but she did not submit to it.
"You are bad," she said, putting one accusatory finger to his chest. "I kind of like it."
With a parting naughty glance over her shoulder, she headed to the bathroom.
Kevin smiled to himself. Enjoy the footage, boys, he thought.
She returned and grinning at him let him peek in her purse, where the panties were stashed. "Oh my god this feels so weird," she whispered in his ear.
He just smiled at her.
Two drinks later and he was fairly confident that she didn't even remember the panties situation. She danced drunkenly and careless on the dancefloor, with him, with other people who came up, with no one in particular, her eyes usually closed and her head nodding to the music, her voluminous blonde hair in a wild mess around her face. It was quite likely that people were catching occasional flashes of pussy here in person, nevermind the upskirt cameras. He noticed the guy and his friend getting in close, dancing, casually dropping their phones down near their knees at times, thinking they were smooth. He pretended not to notice of course.
He excused himself to the restroom while Kattie kept dancing. Going into a stall he checked the site again on his phone. Yes. They'd uploaded plenty of pictures already. Many of them were just pictures of Kattie making a dumb face and dancing, clueless and sweaty. Some though captured her skirt lifting up from behind as she crouched, revealing the pale bottoms of her bare asscheeks, or even her pussy from behind. Two shots were fullblown, glorious upskirts they had managed - Kattie's legs spread enough to provide a clear shot of her bald pussy, the lips slightly parted, the string led lighting within the floor of the dancefloor providing ample visibility. The commenters were heaping a slew of abuse on their .
There was a live feed linked, too. He was watching Kattie on it right now, as she danced just yards away from him, no idea that she was currently making a fool of herself to a sizable audience online watching in real time. People encouraged him to subject her to a whole range of humiliation and abuse, expressing their desire to be present and some of them demanding the address. As if they would even be anywhere nearby.
The guy had commented: "She is totally wasted. This is awesome. And if we can get rid of this guy she's with we're totally running a train on her tonight."
Kevin's mind raced. It was true, he was stifling them. He had to find a way to get out without her. He'd still have a front row seat of whatever happened at home through the livestream.
He left the bathroom and pulled Kattie back over to their table. He saw the guys watching them from across the room. Kattie leaned heavily against the table, very obviously three quarters of the way to wasted. She was giggling to herself.
"Listen babe," he said. "I know this is crazy but some major shit went down at work. Rob just called me. I've got to head over there real quick, for just a little bit. I'm the only one with a key to the back and we've got to get in there right now." He knew what he was saying was stupid but he also knew Kattie was too drunk to make much sense of it.
"Oh no...really? What the fuuuck?"
"I know, it's ridiculous. But I've got to run straight over there. I've got no time. I'm really sorry. Your apartment is only a couple blocks from here, you can make it home ok, right? Stay and have fun here for just a little bit longer. You'll be alright."
She was pouting at him, her lower lip stuck out. "It's ok," she said. "I'll be fine. Have fun." she was already slumping forward in her chair to rest her head on the table. He kissed the back of her head.
"Love you. Call me if you want while you walk home." He headed out and turned right toward his own apartment about six blocks away, knowing she wasn't watching which way he went, moving at a quick jog.
By the time he got into his apartment and pulled up the link to the guy's livestream on his computer, they were already talking directly to Kattie. She was smiling, engaging them in dumb drunk small talk away in some side room they'd pulled her into. She was definitely drunk enough to be overly friendly and trusting of random dudes at a bar.
The camera panned around a couple times. It was six guys in total now, all surrounding her, still for the moment engaging in ostensibly normal banter. Kattie was smiling with her eyes closed, her head leaned up against the window whose sill she was sitting on. She took another sip from some other drink they'd handed her.
They talked her up a bit more, more or less normal stuff, if a bit flirty. She smiled dumbly, her eyes still closed half the time, responding to them but probably missing most of the undertones in her drunken haze. He wondered if she even knew they were filming her. Finally it came.
"So...my buddies and I here thought we recognized you from somewhere. You're Kattie Duval, right?"
Kattie's eyes suddenly snapped open. Even in her drunkenness, he could tell these words were like ice water hitting her full in the face. She glanced around at the six of them wordlessly, the situation suddenly imparted with an entirely different vibe.
One of them pulled out their phone and showed it to her. He had one of the videos of her pulled up. Red haired, naked, covered in men's fluids, but undeniably her.
"My name is Kattie Duval from Lakewood, California," her voice came from the phone, "and I am the fuck-property of every man who recognizes me and requests my body for the rest of my life. I don't have the ability to say no. If I say the word 'no,' I'm really saying 'yes.'"
The guy put the phone away.
"So...is it yes or no?" They all laughed.
Kattie looked up at them in bewilderment and horror. Kevin, watching through the computer, could tell this had taken her completely off guard. She glanced around the bar, as if making sure that no one she knew was watching. He had a feeling she had suddenly sobered up a bit.
"Don't worry," the ringleader said. "We're not going to make you do anything here. My apartment's only a couple blocks from here. We can have a few more drinks and you can show us all a good time there."
They pulled her to her feet and, forming a small, guarding semi-circle around her, marched her from the bar. One of them slyly slipped a hand under her skirt and felt her pantiless crotch. She went on, almost robotically, as the dozens of online watchers expressed their outpouring of excitement and lechery in the comments of the livefeed, eager for fresh content from their reluctant forever-.
[ok, i have a question. of all the characters in Kattie's Abduction Fantasy or Katties New Life Begins, do you put youself into their position? if so, who would you most want to be?]
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Kattie's New Life Begins. Chapter 1
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Posted:May 2, 2024 12:03 pm
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 11:27 am 4697 Views
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Kattie's New Life Begins. Chapter 1
[Continued from "Kattie's Abduction Fantasy", a must read before this one.]
Kattie faded in and out of consciousness, her mind uncertain, exhausted upon facing the mountain of her humiliation, her destruction. She didn't know how long she laid there, tied immobile upon a mattress of her empty apartment, her legs held spread for whoever cared to enter and take her.
Eventually someone did come, sometime following Daniel's abandonment of her. She heard them fumbling with the combination lock outside her door, the solution to which Daniel had posted publicly online. At first she hoped it was someone coming to rescue her, and then she hoped it wasn't. Her mind warped now beyond hope of rescue. Prisoner of the endless desire for submission now blossomed within her.
When she saw two men, shadowy figures, standing within her doorway, evidently eyeing her and the situation appraisingly, she felt her now well-traveled pussy lubricating itself, apparently hungry for more dick.
"Holy shit," one of them said. "It is fuckin' real."
The lights flicked on, momentarily blinding her. They stood staring at her, naked, hairless, a destroyed vessel awaiting their pleasure. She hoarsely begged, "please water". Kattie was very dehydrated.
They took her, roughly, quickly, not even bothering to speak to her, as if she weren't even a person. They came in her, took some pictures, perhaps sent a few texts, and as they were about to leave one took pity on her, straddled her head, placed his dick in her mouth and began to urinate. "life giving piss" he chuckled and then left.
She had more visitors in the night, and then several the next day, usually spaced apart several hours, giving her time to sleep haltingly. Due to either stress or lack of input, she didn't have to use the bathroom, luckily. A few of her visitors did bring food, the only thing she'd had to eat apart from cum in over two days now, but never much at all. They felt no responsibility for this situation. No one freed her or even gave her a break from her restraints, and none asked her for elaboration on her predicament. They already either knew or didn't care, just thinking her some sexual freak pushing the norms of society. But she was, wasn't she?
Another sunrise and sunset. Now there was a mess in her bed. Men came and went sporadically, at unpredictable intervals, so that she could never get a full block of uninterrupted sleep without being awoken by a dick making its way into her just as she was about to enter REM sleep. The vast majority were strangers, she thought, both normal looking men and those who looked like this was probably the only way they'd ever fuck a woman. As a rule they seemed to treat her brutally, or at least completely carelessly, as if they thought she deserved to be punished for being such a . Instead of releasing her, someone in fact added another layer of bondage, stuffing a large ball gag in her mouth and fastening it tightly behind her head.
"Whores like you shouldn't be heard."
When he departed he just left the gag on her, leaving her to awkwardly slide her tongue around the giant intrusion in her mouth, trying to find a comfortable place for it to rest, struggling to swallow the spit building up in her mouth. She could only imagine how sore her jaw would be when this finally came off.
On the third night she heard a group of guys enter, maybe six, more than had come at once so far. It was too dark to make out their faces, but one of them snickered and said "Hey Kattie" in a voice that she knew she recognized but couldn't quite place. Great. Probably some guys she'd gone to school with, here to cash in on the open season on her cunt. Hearing the way they laughed, she knew they had to be some of the athlete douches she'd never gotten along with, who'd always been dicks to her. It didn't make a difference which ones. And now every crude joke they'd made at her expense, that had made her feel so self-conscious or hurt as a younger girl, was about to be proven justified.
She felt the same power dynamics of high school come rushing back, but now with the obvious addition of her tied up on the ground for their free usage. Here to torment her again, over four years after they'd graduated. But now they could do literally whatever they wanted with her. She felt a surge of helpless rage course through her, a natural initial desire to defend herself from these meatheads, but she quickly realized it was turning into lust. Her body was buzzing at the idea of being helpless at the hands of these particular assholes. Why shouldn't they get to wreck her pussy if they wanted to? She had no right to stop anyone.
"Finally putting out, eh?" They laughed again as they began to loosen their belts.
The first guy got on the mattress with her and got down to his knees, running his hands all over her naked body. She shivered, tingles running up and down her at his touch, unable to move at all. His fingers ran between her legs.
"Fucking dripping for it already, holy shit."
The others copped a feel of her seeping gash, making crude comments about her cunt and her obviously whorish nature. She moaned around the ball gag.
The six of them tortured her for the next two hours, enacting prolonged bouts of sadistic foreplay before even fucking her. This was the first and probably only time in their lives they were going to get a chance to do whatever they wanted to a girl with no repercussions. They weren't going to waste it. The fact that it was that shy girl they'd delighted in bullying and harassing in high school just made it that much better for them. Finally doing what they'd wished they'd been able to do back in the hallways between classes, just ripping down her panties and demolishing her right in front of all of her whooping classmates.
Kattie had all this running through her head as the first guy started things off by shoving as many of the fingers on his right hand as he could up her cunt, adding the others as quickly as possible until his whole fist was in her. She gave a muted scream behind the gag, tears leaping unbidden to her eyes.
"Turn on a light, I want to get a good look at this."
A light came on. Yep, it was all of them. She couldn't believe these guys still hung out together. The guy slowly pumping his fist in her was a notorious asshole named Bradley McCain, the worst of her old tormentors. She guessed it was fitting that he should finally get to use her. His actions were probably largely responsible for the humiliation complex she had now, that had led her into this whole mess. Bradley used to spread rumors about Kattie being a slut, blowing and fucking him and his friends on the football team. It wasn't true, but a lot of people believed him, and it crushed her self-esteem and confidence in the already emotionally raw days of high school for a sensitive young girl. And still, she had found herself rubbing herself to pillow-smothered orgasm in her bedroom night after night, imagining herself doing all those things her classmates thought she did. On her knees beneath the bleachers, sucking the dicks of a line of boys that wrapped around the block. How she'd feel her panties flood with wetness when certain boys in the hallway would give her that expectant look, and she'd have to go to the bathroom to dry herself up with toilet paper. She was a good girl, and she hated the injustice of these lies. But still, every night, she'd rub herself to a toe-curling, bed-wetting orgasm imagining herself being the slut they so obviously wanted her to be.
All these thoughts, these teenage humiliations and implanted kinks, came rushing back to her, as Bradley forcefully stretched her pussy as far as it would go, testing its newly developed limits. His arm filled her as much as any novelty monster-sized dildo she'd ever seen videos of online. Her cunt lips were squeezing him halfway down his forearm. His knuckles were pressed flush against the spongy flesh of her cervix, and even that he forced to shift back and accommodate his intrusion, freely testing the limits of the female form.
"Look at how deep this fuckin' bitch's cunt goes!"
She was finally doing it for them. Kattie Duval, giving her cunt to half the football team. True at last. Is this what you want of me? There is nothing you can't have. She poured grool from her battered vagina, feeling a strange sort of noumonic fulfillment in being so completely used by this person she'd so long hated, as if the very level of her hatred enhanced her resultant degraded ecstasy.
The other guys wanted to fist her as well, this being a somewhat rare thing to get to do. They fisted her pussy, her asshole, sometimes both at once. One of them had an open hand in her pussy, another an open hand in her rectum, and they jokingly tried to "high-five" each other inside of her, pressing their palms together through the thin barrier separating her two holes. Kattie just let her head loll back and moaned in agonized debasement, drool running out of the corners of her mouth around the gag.
Eventually they fucked her in her loosened, sloppy cunt, making comments about how they could barely even feel anything in her cavern. They came though, three of them pulling out to dump their loads on her face, just leaving it there to dry, and three emptying their balls in her pussy. Before they left, Bradley took an empty wine bottle that was lying on the floor and stuffed it big end first into her vagina, forcing it in until it was about 7 or 8 inches deep.
"Seal the good stuff in," he said with a wink, "and hopefully keep that slutty pussy loose for you. Would be a shame for that thing to tighten back up too much. Guys who fuck you should be able to really feel what a slut you are."
He took a marker and wrote "please return bottle to cunt when done" right below her belly button.
Finally, they found a pillow and put it under her ass, getting out of the mess below, propping it up, ensuring that all the cum inside of her would drip deeper into her, settling over the entrance to her womb. As if the cum that had been resting inside of her for days now wasn't already enough to ensure she was knocked up now.
They stood surveying their handiwork before heading out: Kattie, face covered in three huge loads worth of rapidly drying cum, a huge bottle sticking partially out of her like champagne from an ice bucket, legs spread, body written on, awaiting her next fuck. They took some pictures on their phones, poured a half used bottle of water down her throat and left, guffawing.
She laid there for three more days, taking an average of 15 guys a day. Now each seemed to find enjoyment in taking up the marker lying next to her and adding degrading writing to her body. They seemed to think they were supposed to add something. Within 48 hours of Bradley and co's visit, she was covered head to toe in "sluts" and "cum whores" and everything in between in the handwriting of many different men. Literally every surface of her body they used as a canvas, from the soles of her feet to the skin of her face, where among other things was drawn the crude image of an ejaculating dick, spanning her whole visage like some bawdy hieroglyph. Someone removed the gag so they could fuck her mouth, and did not put it back, but everyone followed the instruction to return the wine bottle to her pussy after taking their use of it. In fact, she was so loose now that many chose to fuck her asshole instead.
Finally, on the seventh day of being tied to the mattress, providence set her free. Some good samaritan finally entered, having been led there by an advertisement for her that was taped up in the stall of a men's public restroom, a picture of her lying as she was with her legs spread, her name and address listed beneath it. Not knowing any backstory and assuming her to be the victim of some sex trafficker, he had come to let her go. When he entered he found the shaved woman, her hair just beginning to cover her scalp again in a thin blonde fuzz, tied for the fucking, covered everywhere in graffiti and crusted cum, a few filled up, used condoms draped across her face.
He cut the cords, gingerly removed the bottle from between her red, stretched pussy lips, and helped her to her feet. She stood on wobbling legs, and would have collapsed had he not supported her. He asked her if she wanted him to call the police. She declined. She was so disoriented and confused about the nature of what had happened to her by this point, that she wasn't even certain a crime had been committed. She was so sleep deprived and dehydrated that she almost couldn't remember how it had all started.
He wrapped her in a towel and took her to his own house, allowing her to shower. He was an older man, kindly looking, and he seemed to live alone. She expected him at any moment to push her face down into his crotch, but he never did. She seemed to have forgotten that men had the capability to be decent.
She relived the events of the past week plus in her head as she stood in the shower, letting the blazing hot water sear her skin. Her mind couldn't yet wrap around the fullness of what had happened, the consequences that awaited her. She had been halfway out of it the whole time, but still she knew that another 94 men had fucked her in the week she was tied to the mattress. For some reason this number she could keep track of, as if the numerical value of her downfall was the only thing of importance left to her. With the 179 who had fucked her in the first day, when Daniel was still orchestrating things, this brought her total number of sexual partners in the last eight days to 273. The number didn't even make sense. Nine days ago she had had a grand total of exactly one man inside her vagina. 273. Most of them unprotected.
She thought of how long she had been filled with obscene amounts of cum. Surely she was pregnant. It was too late even for a Plan B pill. An embryo was probably already growing in her womb at this very moment, feeding off the nutrients of her body. Planted there by god knows who. She wondered if it was possible to become pregnant with more than one man's at once. It would seem strange, after all she'd been through, to become fertilized by only one single sperm.
But not just that. Surely she had diseases now. It was almost impossible that she didn't. Who knows what forms of microbial virus had taken root inside of her. At the very least, she had to now be infected with at least 15 different strains of HPV. Statistically, anything less was impossible. She just hoped her immune system was strong enough to stave off any diseases manifesting. She felt between her legs. Her pussy was still stretched enough that it hung open slightly on its own, and she could easily put three fingers inside and feel around inside of it. She increased the temperature of the water even further, but she knew there was nothing she could do now to wash away the filth inside of her.
Next her mind wandered to the incredible amount of HD footage that had been taken of her. She could only imagine how far it had already gotten on the web. How many people had seen it. People she knew. Where could she go? Who would help her? No one she knew had even bothered to come to her rescue after her address was posted online for anyone to come fuck her while she was tied up helpless. They thought she was some extreme deviant who wanted all of this to happen, all of them to see this. Why would they help her now? She thought of her empty apartment, her empty bank account. She sat down on the floor of the shower, her bald head in her hands.
She looked at herself in the mirror when she got out. The permanent marker had barely faded. It would take several more showers before that would come off. Her body still bore all the marks of her shame.
She eats the food the man offers her, sitting there looking like the vandalized stall of a dive bar bathroom as he watches. He asks her questions, tepidly, carefully. She answers in monosyllables, staring off at nothing like some shell-shocked prisoner of war. He does not press further. The facts of her life pass through her mind like some ticker tape reel of film, removed, on the far side of a vast gulf. She feels separated from her origins and has no opinion on it.
She stays with this man for three days, and on the morning of the fourth she is gone before the sun rises, wearing some of the cheap clothes he bought for her and carrying nothing else at all. She walks the two miles to the highway on foot, even though he would have driven her. It seemed more fitting to slink away in the night. She appreciated what the man had done, but felt a strange guilt whenever she faced him, as if she had something awful to him by entering his home.
It had been long enough now that her eyebrows had grown back more or less to normal, and her hair had come back enough to be the length of a buzz cut. The writing had finally washed away, and if a stranger saw her they might just take her for some punk type. Bold fashion, choices, sure, but no longer some obvious sexual deviant. Still, standing on the side of the highway with her thumb held out, she can't help but feel like every passing car holds people who know exactly who she is and exactly what she has done.
She makes it east as far as Minneapolis, hitchhiking her way there, her only plan being to get as far away from the places where anyone knew her as possible. She speeds her way by giving head a couple times, the types of men most eager to pick up a lone girl on the side of the road being the same kind most likely to expect a favor in return. No one seemed to know about the videos, or the things she'd said in them, though. She'd been worried that every person on the street would know, but now she was beginning to realize that was probably irrational. It's not like every person out there was up to date with every single porn video on the web. She hadn't had the inclination to look it up yet, or to search for her name. She was terrified to. Part of her hoped that by some miracle it would have all just disappeared.
She stayed in a halfway house in Minneapolis for a few weeks. She never got her next period. Finally, nearly a full month after her gangbang, she took a pregnancy test. Knowing that it was too late to take any kind of emergency contraception anyway, she hadn't been in a particular rush. The test just confirmed what she already knew had to be true. Pregnant, by god knows who. And of course. 273 men had taken her over the course of a week, the majority of them unprotected...the majority of those depositing their seed right into her womb. Their faces were all a meaningless blur, but she knew the number. She would never forget that number. 273 men who used you. Got off in your disposable, trashed holes. What else are you good for now? Isn't this what you've wanted? Ever since you were a hormonal, conflicted high-schooler racked with confusion and humiliation and guilty lust, masturbating in bed to the idea of the false opinion your peers had of you? That the skinny, shy awkward girl from third period is actually super easy. Did you hear she blew half the football team after the game last month? That she let them all run a train on her after they won against Lincoln last Friday? Fuck no I wouldn't date her, she's used up. Yes, you know they say this. The unfairness of it, and the late night tears, but still the incessant urge to reach those nimble fingers down the front of your panties when you think of it. And now just a few years later it's all true, but worse. You have become who they wanted you to be.
The knowledge that some stranger's baby was growing inside of her filled her with that familiar brew of confliction. She felt dirty, powerless, yet deliriously turned on by it. She wouldn't even have any clue who to give a paternity test to if she had the inclination. The fetus could be white, black, belonging to someone she knew, someone she didn't. She had no way of knowing. It could be twins. She let it stew in her for another couple weeks, going to sleep every night meditating on the idea of this forced creature growing in her, feeding off of the nutrients of her body. She would rub herself to orgasm thinking of it, thinking of how used she was, and then would feel disgusted with herself afterward but do it again the very next night. Finally, six weeks after the gangbang, the defining event of her life, she went to Planned Parenthood. They had an opening and her abortion was complete, ending this terrible odyssey.
For the next several months she moves eastward, slowly, hitching from town to town, staying where it's convenient. Still having no money, she uses her body to ease her way. The one tool she has left, decreased in value though it may be. Perfect strangers will let you stay with them for a night or more if you fuck them. Men 274 - 280 get her as far east as Philadelphia, those in the first few weeks commenting tepidly on the looseness of her still-healing pussy, evidently too surprised and dismayed to be couth about it. Her hair is long enough now to dye, and she has recovered enough emotionally from her experience to redevelop a survival instinct. She dyes her pixie cut hair black, and goes by another name. Whitney, yes, nice to meet you. She comes partially out of the shell of self-destruction that she had gone into to preserve her sanity. No longer simply apathetic to her fate, she begins to bargain with herself, perhaps just some other coping mechanism. But still, she thinks perhaps she can continue her life in some form after all. 280 isn't such an unforgivable number, is it? 281 if you count her first boyfriend. Surely there are a handful of open-minded, sex-positive women in most cities across the country who have had as many partners. Maybe most guys wouldn't want to date her but, she wasn't completely without precedent was she? Still no one had confronted her in public, although for a while she second guessed every lingering look someone gave her. She allowed herself to consider the possibility of her life continuing, albeit in a very different way and setting. She had not spoken to anyone she used to know since the incident. No one had tried to contact her.
After three months in Philadelphia she had landed a minimum wage, fast food gig in some shitty establishment, under her new assumed name. A place that paid under the table, no paperwork needed. She shared an apartment with two roommates, both girls. She finally worked up the courage to Google the phrase "Kattie Duval."
The entire first page of Google was nothing but links to various porn websites. She clicked to the 10th page. Still results about her. She searched just "Kattie." Just as many results. Page after page of things like, "Cali girl slut Kattie Duval swallows 60 strangers loads," "Humiliation Kattie Duval brutal triple penetration," "Kattie Duval pussy inspection," and on and on in a hundred variations. Her heart racing, she clicked on. Yep, that was her alright. In crystal clear HD. This one video had 120,876 views, but it was just one of dozens and dozens. She guessed they had taken 12 or more hours of footage. There would be plenty of ways for people to split it up. In the comments, people were sharing all of her contact info. Well, her old contact info. She flicked through some of the still images, close up detail shots of various parts of her body. She was sickened by how detailed it was, how well-lit.
She exited quickly and slammed the laptop shut, unable to look any longer. She was mortified, but she noticed in a sudden moment of frustration that her panties were soaked. She crawled into her bed and rubbed herself to a series of orgasms, feeling filthy for it, but unable to stop. As if it were irresistible. Thinking of all those shockingly graphic, shockingly detailed images of her, so many with her face in them, proving undoubtedly that they were all of her. Thinking of how Micky from choir practice could be examining the microscopic bumps in the skin of her labia at this very moment, whacking off and thinking of how surprised he was that Kattie of all people had turned out to be such a shameful, humiliated porn star. Probably getting second-hand embarrassment for her. This scenario mirrored a thousand times over with others she knew, millions upon millions of times over around the globe.
She imagined what her new roommates would think if they saw the search results for her real name. That they were living with such a scandalous . Seeing proof that her name, all of her info, such an exhaustive record of video footage of every detail of her body, of the unspeakable acts she had done, was all out there on the web for anyone and everyone to see, was enough to send her over the edge. None of it could ever be undone. It was there forever. She hated it, but she was addicted to the humiliation. It gave a thrill like nothing else on this earth could. And she hated that that pleasure outweighed the self-hatred, outweighed everything. She still didn't fully understand what had happened to her or why, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow her fault. She wondered for the umpteenth time what had possessed her to announce several times on camera that she would fuck any and every person who wanted her, that they didn't have to ask and didn't have to take no for an answer. It was so stupid, so reckless, yet so incredibly hot. That was why she'd done it, in that moment. She knew there was the standing chance of being taken at any time. A chance that someone would find her and sell her into sex trafficking for the rest of her life. She rubbed herself until her sheets were soaked, telling herself under her breath over and over what a dumb she was.
Still, when she wasn't masturbating she was terrified of the idea of actually being found out, and she managed to make herself believe that with her new name and her new hair and her new location that she was more or less safe. Maybe someone would recognize her, but hopefully they would be uncertain, and tell themselves they were crazy. Maybe she would be able to hide this event forever, her former life forever, and just let it be her deepest, darkest secret as she struggled to make a new life from scratch.
It would only take a few more weeks for her to receive a harsh reality check.
She had been working at her shitty fast food job for about two months when it happened. She hated working there, feeling like a again as she put on the same black work uniform as everyone else, with the same dumb visor, getting belittled by asshole customers all the time, but at least it was a job. Everyone she worked with either was some idiot teenage , or a burn-out asshole. She hated almost all of them. But still, she grinned and bore it, knowing she had precious few other options, being unable to present any kind of resume or personal history of any kind to a prospective employer. So she put up with the demeaning rules, the disrespectful customers, and the shitty coworkers who were always either being dicks to her or crudely hitting on her. She was well aware that she was a lot more attractive than most girls they were used to working with.
It was late on an otherwise normal shitty Thursday night when the thing she'd been dreading happened. She was scheduled to close that night with Pete and Mike, two 30-something stoners who always fucked with her. She was in the back, cutting up some produce in preparation for the next day, while the 6' 2", 300 pound Pete stood behind her washing dishes.
"Pull the sign," he shouted out into the dining room at Mike. Mike turned the light off and locked the door.
Kattie kept chopping the vegetables, not noticing for a while that Pete had stopped spraying water and was just standing there staring at her, grinning.
"Sooo...." he began, awkwardly. "Your name isn't really Whitney, is it?"
Kattie paused for a moment, a sudden flush of heat rushing through her cheeks.
"It's Kattie, isn't it?"
Kattie kept looking down at the task before her, the panic rising up in her. She didn't know what to do or say, so she just kept chopping.
Pete chuckled. "Yeah, I thought so. I was jerking off last night, you know, as I do, and I came across this video. I'd seen it before, but I'd never connected the dots. But last night I fucking realized -- you're that fucking crazy slutty chick!"
Kattie was just frozen. She had stopped chopping. She heard Mike enter the back room as well.
"I always knew you looked familiar," Pete continued, "but I could never place it. That's fucking crazy. I see those videos everywhere! Mike, did you know she's a fucking porn star?"
Mike stood with the mop bucket, staring at them with his mouth open.
"Say what?"
"Look at this shit. Tell me this isn't her!"
He pulled out his phone and typed something. Soon Kattie knew they were watching her do god knows what.
"Holy shit. It is her!"
She could tell he had clicked to another video. She heard her own voice saying "I have no worth now except making men cum. I will fuck anyone and everyone who wants it for the rest of my life. Don't let me tell you no. This pussy is yours."
"Well fuck," Mike said.
"Well, answer us you little slut. Tell me this isn't you!" Pete grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.
She kept her eyes to the ground. They could see that her face was flushed red, but they didn't know if it was from shame or horniness. Hating herself, she felt that familiar feeling of dampness growing in her panties. She wasn't remotely attracted to these men, so why, WHY, was she dripping at the idea of them sexually exploiting her?
"Come on, speak! Is this you?"
Kattie nodded, a minuscule thing. She still didn't look at them.
"I thought so. I guess it's our lucky day." He began unbuckling his belt.
"Do we have to do this here?" Kattie asked meekly.
"Where else we gonna do it? My girlfriend's home and you know I can't afford a hotel. Nah, this'll work fine. The camera's don't go back here."
Before she knew it, she was on her knees in this rundown, dead end sandwich shop, sucking her burnout second-shift manager's dick in her dumb work outfit, while Mike the troglodyte looked on. Two guys who would normally never have been able to have a shot with a girl as attractive as her. But Kattie just felt like the girl who didn't get to say no. Pete fucked her face hard, treating her throat like a vagina, making her retch and fight to let it past her gag reflex, dark tears of mascara running down her cheeks, mixed with the real tears of her sorrow. She should have known this would happen. It had to. Why was her god damn pussy so wet from this?
They certainly made their shot worth it. For the next hour Kattie found herself contorted 50 different ways to satisfy the various fantasies of these two slobs. Kattie lay on her back on the steel table, wearing just her black work shirt now - her pants, underwear, shoes and socks having already been ripped off by Pete. She spread her legs wide as Pete hammered his somewhat short but thick cock into her bald pussy where it hung just off the end of the table. He leaned over her, his hands supporting the back of her head, drawing her face slightly closer up to his.
"So you just can't help but give this pussy away to everyone you meet, huh?" he breathed down into her face as he thrust. "I bet it's just compulsive for you. Lucky for me our paths crossed."
Kattie felt a surge flash through her groin. She hated that her body responded so fully to this degradation.
Pete let Mike take a turn before he even climaxed, just moving aside for the time being while he continued stroking himself, looking around the cramped hallway of a room for who knows what.
"I'm not gonna take the same hole as you right after you, dude," he said. He licked his hand and wiped it on the head of his dick, then stepped forward. Kattie felt his cockhead pressing against her asshole, trying to force an opening. Luckily, the ample amount of pussy juice trickling down her taint and into her ass crack provided him enough lubrication to get in her without ripping her up.
She held her ass cheeks apart to just allow him easier entry, her ankles raised up and resting on his shoulders. Pete walked around behind him, filming on his cellphone.
"This is going online," he said. "This is fucking nuts. We got a real party girl here, everybody."
He got in close to her face, contorted from the ass fucking she was receiving. "This is afterhours shit in Philly. Tell everybody your name. Your real name."
Kattie looked into the camera. Deja vu. "Kattie Duval," she said meekly.
"Kattie Duval," Pete repeated. "Famous webslut. Back for more. Made it all the way out here to Philadelphia to party with us."
Mike stuck a finger inside her vacant pussy as he continued hammering at her asshole, pressing it into the inner upper flesh of her vagina in a come hither motion. She suddenly began gushing hot squirt out, drenching his shirt.
They continued for the next hour, swapping out and taking turns. The concept of not sharing a hole was quickly discarded, as they both wanted to experience everything her body had to offer. Both ended up cumming on their second turns, just leaving their dicks in and releasing their loads inside of her pussy, just like they'd seen footage of so many other men doing to her, but were both ready to go a second time by the time their next turn came.
When they'd finally both cum a second time, they decided they still weren't done with her, and were now going to incorporate various objects in aid of their assault on her body. She was now squatting barefoot on the kitchen floor, still wearing just her shirt, perched on the balls of her feet above the biggest cucumber the two could find, positioning it at the entrance to her vagina at their direction. She slowly sunk her weight down onto it, feeling all 12 inches slowly stretch her out. Her pussy had more or less returned to normal from the prolonged stretching of the wine bottle, but evidently she had retained some elasticity from it. Still, it was initially an overwhelming feeling sliding the huge phallic vegetable inside of herself. Soon she had the whole thing in, holding the bottom of it tight between her feet as she raised her bottom up and down, fucking herself with it, feeling herself grow wetter by the moment as she looked into the camera and performed this ridiculous act for yet another online audience.
"You like being humiliated, right?" Pete asked boorishly, holding a bottle of Crisco which he then opened and suddenly upended over her head, spilling the oil all in her hair. Kattie paused for a moment from fucking herself, a flash of anger going through her. But then she looked up again at the camera through the oil-drenched bangs hanging in front of her eyes and decided it made no difference anyway. Let her be their little thing to toy with.
By the time they were finally done with her she had fucked almost every insertable vegetable in the store, and had a mess of mayo and oil coiffed up in her hair. They let her put her clothes and shoes back on, but she walked out wearing their third loads on her face, walking quickly, ignoring the baffled looks of passersby, and wiping the semen off her face with her shirt once she was out of site of the restaurant.
That night she showered, rushing in past the questions of her roommates, ignoring them. She sat in there for an hour, her mind racing, her finger drawn irresistibly to her clit. Later, when she thought her roommates had gone to sleep, she grabbed one of their laptops that had been left out in the living room and took it to her bedroom. She flicked on the webcam, her tear-streaked face just lit by the light of the monitor in the dark room.
"My name is Kattie Duval," she began, speaking somewhat quietly so as not to wake her roommates. "You may have seen videos of me online. You may have seen me saying things, requesting certain things. I want you to know that's not who I really am. I didn't want to do that. I just want to be left alone. I'm not really the type of girl you think I am."
She reviewed the video, embarrassed how pathetic it was but seeing no other option. She knew no one would believe her, no one would care. But she had to try. She couldn't go through life like this.
The next morning she was gone again, taking the meager possessions she had accrued in a backpack and taking the first Greyhound out of Philadelphia. Time to be a different person again. She leaned her head against the window, wondering if she was escaping anything, or just heading to another inevitable scene of humiliation. Wondering if her life was not doomed to flit from degradation to degradation forever.
She moves from place to place again over the next few months, always looking over her shoulder, always second guessing every interaction. By the time she makes it to Boston and attempts to tentatively settle down again, she is beginning to allow herself some hope. No one has said anything to her since leaving Philly, no one has propositioned her for sex. She begins to wonder if perhaps she can escape it after all.
A year and a half after the gangbang, after she has lived in Boston for several months and begun to build an existence she is cautiously optimistic about, her hair has grown out again to a normal length, just past her shoulders, and she has let it go back to her natural color, a wavy, perpetually messy dirty blonde. She knew it was strange to go in disguise as her natural look, but in all the explicit pictures and videos she had had the dyed red hair, so this might be just as effective as any color. Besides, she wanted to feel like herself again. Her old self.
Still, a new name was necessary, and so she went by Garden Perry. Her grandma had called her Garden sometimes as a , and so she felt she could still identify with it, and not feel like a total impostor. For the past few months now she's had a job as the clerk in a small boutique shop that sold vintage dresses and clothing. It certainly wasn't as high paying as the career she'd lost, but she enjoyed the work and the couple other people she worked with, and felt safe that her real identity wouldn't be pried into. It was a small enough place that she hadn't had to present any documents proving her name in order to be hired. She walked to and from work to her studio apartment every day, and she wore sundresses and made friends and slowly regained the idea that she could have dignity.
It was around this time that she began dating Kevin. She was apprehensive at first, worried about what would happen if he found out about her past, about who she really was. She wad worried about getting emotionally close to someone only to have them leave her, as they inevitably would if they knew the truth about her. But, she told herself, she would have to face this risk no matter what. She couldn't go through life alone. She had never felt more isolated in her life than in the past 18 months, and she yearned for companionship. Kevin was nice, he was polite to her and made her feel special and loved, something she'd written off as a possibility. He seemed completely, blissfully unaware that she was anything but a cute, reserved girl who moved into town a few months ago and was just struggling to get through her 20s, like everyone else he knew. He took her on dates and doted over her. She still had the nagging worry of being outed, but this slowly faded a little with time. She was allowing herself to heal. Once she managed to get a prescription for anxiety medication, things became even better. Her fears seemed more remote by the day. If passersby gave her pointed, lingering looks from time to time, she was now able to tell herself that it was nothing.
Despite the submissive, self-destructive side of her psyche that was coaxed out of her so shamefully to the world, she really just wanted above everything else to be a normal, monogamous person, who could give her love to one person and not feel like gutter trash. But still, that other side existed, like she was some perverse Jekyl and Hyde, and she would on occasion be reduced to a sputtering, dripping mess as she recalled what was done to her, having her autonomy completely stripped away and thrown to the wind. She would give into it at times, rubbing herself raw while thinking of the incredibly dangerous trove of material of her that was on the Internet, perpetually dangling over her head and threatening to ruin her life all over again, but logically she didn't want that. The vast majority of the time it terrified her. But why was it also the only thing that could completely push her over the edge, into a series of body-wracking, mattress-drenching orgasms when she let herself dwell on it?
But it was only while rubbing herself in bed that it excited her. Most of the time it terrified her, as it should, and she was ashamed of herself and scared of herself for sometimes letting herself be turned on by it. Slowly, the wholesome side of her personality won out, and these filthy desires were repressed more and more, stowed back into the dark recesses of her mind where they belonged.
She seemed to be maybe getting away from it all. When she was with Kevin, it was so easy to forget that it had happened, or that it could ever come back. She walked down the street proudly, hand in hand with him, taking pride in herself and her appearance, now no longer really wondering if people recognized her. Wrapped in the soothing embrace of her medication, she convinced herself that she was safe, that she really was protected now as if by a mask.
But the reality of the world was different than the perception she allowed herself to believe, and it held fates for her so at odds with her desire of a safe, monogamous life that if she had known what was in store for her, she would have just collapsed in defeat.
One night, after they'd been dating for about three months, Kevin dropped Kattie off at her apartment after a nice dinner, kissing her goodbye like he always did.
"Goodnight, Garden," he said, with that perfectly trained smile. She flashed him another sly grin as she held her head out around the half closed door, then gave him a kissy face in the air and shut the door. She plopped down happily on her couch, letting herself imagine their future life together. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she just had a feeling about him. She saw them getting married, having together, letting the run around in the fenced-off backyard of their newly purchased home in the suburbs. Normal. Happy.
Kevin walked back to his own apartment a few blocks away, feeling his cock slightly swell as he let his imagination roam, the way he always did when they had parted ways for the night. When he got in he went straight to his computer, like he did every night, and typed "Kattie Duval" into the private browser.
Countless pages of results, countless instances of documentation, of discussion. He navigated to his favorite site about her, one of the fan-made websites dedicated entirely to Kattie. To sharing her pictures and videos, to finding pictures and info about her old life, about where she might be now. The Philadelphia incident had excited them so, getting new material like that. The subsequent video she posted of her crying had whipped them into an increased furor over her, not diminished it. They loved that she wanted to back out, as they saw. That she regretted what she did. But they wouldn't let her escape. Not in a million years. He stroked off to one of his favorite clips of his girlfriend, the one of her getting double ass-fucked while the guy on top also had a hand in her pussy and his other hand jammed into her throat, both sets of her lips straining to accommodate his hands. So crude, so completely at odds with the image of the dainty, demure girl she had presented herself to him as for months now. If only all these guys online knew the information and power he was patiently sitting on.
He'd been jacking off to her footage and her story ever since it had first happened. Compulsively trawling all the various forums and discussions about it, fascinated and turned on by the sheer depravity, by the strangeness of it. A girl that hot shouldn't be having this stuff happen to her. And she thought he didn't even know.
When he'd first met her, at the small birthday party of a mutual friend, someone who also worked at the dress shop, he'd almost fainted. He couldn't believe it. And here she was, with a somewhat different look, but still obviously her, calling herself Garden. Obviously trying to act like it wasn't a thing. No one else present seemed to know. He managed to pull himself to play it cool and act normal, and to his continued astonishment he had succeeded in wooing her. So now they'd been dating for months, her never revealing anything, him acting like he truly didn't know. He wanted to bide his time. Figure out how to play this to maximum effect. He couldn't believe his luck.
He climaxed to the scene of her bukkake, as he usually did, imagining adding this load to the pile already accrued there on his sweet girlfriend's face. Her ID glued to her forehead by cum, the stricken, bottomed-out . He threw away the paper towel with his cum, pondering for the millionth time how exactly to play this situation in the end. Whatever he did, he knew that by the time he was done with her, Kattie would no longer be able to delude herself into thinking she was safe. She would know that she had no other options, that she was destined to become the biggest, most used-up slut of all time. Her descent was only just beginning.
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9
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What to do at work
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Posted:May 1, 2024 9:27 am
Last Updated:May 3, 2024 10:19 am 5297 Views
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Bringing a remote controlled vibrator to work sure has made the morning go by quick.
The risk of getting caught only heightens the excitement for me. The sound of it seems ultra loud to me but i've been told that it is because it is actually vibrating through my body and i hear it much louder than others do. Anyway, so far i've only tried it when there was no one else in any of the cubicles around me. (oh and a shout out to a special someone that helped me thru the first time).
During this first time.. a suggestion was to more fully up the risk factor and to explore some of my exhibitionist desires.
Every day at lunch time, my co-cubicleists leave the office for the lunch hour. Most of those days the three boss's do too. Although one tends to often eat in his office, with his door shut. I work part time and usually work thru the lunch break since i get in late. Hence i am almost always alone in the main room during lunch time.
The idea was that i would have one of the doms from here controlling one of my toys for an entire lunch break. The game would be that i walk from my cubicle (back left) to the front right storage cubicle. Strip out of my clothes.. all of them and leave them in that cubical. then walk all the way back to mine and have to stay there until i am able to have an orgasm. Only then may i go back and retrieve my clothes.
What do you think. Would this make for an interesting day at work? Would any of you volunteer to be that dom controlling and talking to me while it happens? Let me know in the comments.
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17
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Arrrgh End of Month
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Posted:Apr 30, 2024 8:05 am
Last Updated:May 3, 2024 10:05 am 5927 Views
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End of month again. The hectic life of a part time bookkeeper.
My office is small, 3 offices that have doors. Occupied by the money guys. They get the windows.
I sit within nine cubicles in a 3x2 group separated by a 3x1 group in a large room with isles on each side of the three, leading from the entry door, past the cubicles to the god's offices. Only six of the cubicles are occupied with some of the telephone guys and me. I handle some of the mailings and bookkeeping. My cubical is in the last row on the left . The entry door is behind the cubicle to my right. Well actually the door is in line with the isle that leads up front. This is one of the cubicles used for files that i have to get into all the time.
The other cubicles up front are used for supply storage.
yuupp this is my life daily, well part of the time daily. Sometimes one has to make things more interesting to survive the hum drum.
What would be fun during work?
Top 10?
9. Made to eat from a bowl on the ground.
8. Being kept in a confined space like a cage.
7. Being made to wear a collar and/or leash.
6. Having your hair grabbed (painfully) and led around by the boss.
5. Being disrespected verbally or otherwise.
4. Being “forced” to stay naked.
3. Being slapped.
2. Being referred to as something derogatory. Think of names like slut, bitch, bimbo, slave, etc.
1. Being “forced” to doing embarrassing things in public.
Any ideas?
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24
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Kattie's Abduction Fantasy Chapters 13-14
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Posted:Apr 27, 2024 11:44 am
Last Updated:May 7, 2024 7:18 pm 7334 Views
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Scroll down to read from Chapter 1.
When it finally released, though, it came out in a torrent. With an echoing splattering noise, her piss shot out and hit the floor of the tub with force, ricocheting and splashing back up all over her ass and pussy. Several guys laughed, and the shame of their mockery merely added to the incredible feeling of release. She knew her cheeks were burning red, but she didn't care. She let out an involuntary little sigh of pleasure. She felt the warmth of her piss flooding around her toes, pooling there before slowly trickling toward the drain. Daniel leaned forward and closed it, forcing the piss to build up in the tub. Finally the stream slowed, and then finished off with a few last lingering dribbles.
Before Kattie could even decide what to do next, a stream of hot piss from one of the men standing above her hit her full in the face. She fell backward onto her ass, at first instinctively shielding her face, but then, remembering what she was now, turned her gaze straight up toward the source of the piss. Another was hitting her now, and a third. Their warm, powerful streams hit at her face and wherever else they chose to aim on her body, blasting away the residue of cum lingering there. The men cycled in and out now, the streams of piss steadily replenished by a new man, so that there were never less than three hitting her at once. She sat cross-legged Indian style on her ass, facing them, her legs spread at the knees and a finger rubbing her sore clit furiously as an endless source of piss hit her face, her hair, landed in her eyes or mouth. God, as long as she could keep a finger to her clit she would love anything that was happening to her.
As long as it was disgraceful and involved her sexual shame. She had never really been into or even considered the idea of golden showers, but now that it was happening to her she loved it. As the warm piss drenched her and began pooling up around her in the clogged tub, she orgasmed time and again, opening her mouth and letting the piss of strangers fill it up, hitting her tongue. Just a filthy human toilet. Like a urinal in between innings at Safeco Field. She filled her mouth over and over with the various streams, swallowing mouthful after mouthful or letting it drizzle out down her neck and chest. Her ass and pussy were completely submerged in piss now. She was sitting in maybe three inches of it in the tub. At least 40 men had pissed on her, most of whom had been drinking all night, and more were still waiting their turn.
Eventually all 70 or so men still present had emptied their bladders onto or in her, leaving her sitting in a tub of yellow piss up nearly to her belly button. It fairly reeked, but she didn't care. She kept frigging her clit, unwilling to let the pleasure of her shame fade away. The piss sloshed around her in the tub as she moved, making little waves. Suddenly Daniel grabbed her by the hair and pushed her down, completely submerging her whole body. He held her under for a while, maybe 15 seconds or more, before letting her up for air. Kattie gasped, sputtering, coughing piss out of her nasal passages and lungs.
"Do you love bathing in strangers' piss?" Daniel asked her.
"Yes!" Kattie managed.
"Prove it to us further. I'm not letting you up until you've swallowed a good four or five gulps this time."
Before she could question or argue, Daniel had pinched her nose shut with one hand and submerged her again with the other. Not questioning his commitment, Kattie opened her mouth, drawing in a huge mouthful of piss and swallowing it, then again, and again. Eventually Daniel pulled her back up.
She lay her head against the edge of the tub, recovering. Her piss-soaked hair hung in ragged strands across her face.
"Pretty good," Daniel said. "But let's have one more show of it, just to be sure. Bring me one of those cups."
Someone handed him a plastic cup from the sink. A full pint size. He dunked it in the tub and handed her the full cup of piss.
"Bottoms up," he said.
She was fighting another wave of nausea now, the piss not being quite so appealing when not coming straight from the source. But still, she chugged it dutifully, thinking of her emptied bank account and feeling that her life had no other purpose now but to be the plaything of cruel men. When she placed the emptied cup on the edge of the tub, she watched Daniel pick it up and fill it right back up. She shouldn't have been surprised. Another chugging. And then another. Finally, after three full glasses were downed, he seemed content. She looked over the edge of the tub at the floor, her head hanging down. She tried to collect herself. For the hundredth time that night, she asked herself if all this was really happening. Sitting in a bathtub full of piss, a good quarter of which she'd just swallowed into her belly, on top of all the piss she'd drank straight from the bladders. On top of the liter of anonymous semen. Her belly was near to bursting with the emissions of dozens of men.
As if reading her thoughts, Daniel said "It's been a while, and you've had a lot more to drink. You probably have to piss again don't you? Stand up and give us another show."
It was true. She couldn't believe it, but she had to piss again. And the only thing she'd drunk since the last time she voided herself was piss. She stood up and let the stream of piss fall out of her and splash into the yellow liquid that her feet were already submerged in. More laughter.
"Pissing out other people's piss," Daniel marveled. "Sweet fucking god. You really are the perfect ." The way he said it, Kattie knew he actually meant it. He wasn't just using dominating language, he was actually truly taken aback and somewhat repulsed by her. As were the dozens of others watching. She was their ultimate fantasy - a girl evidently so nasty you could do literally anything you could think of to her, and she would just go with it. The girl every guy in the world wanted to spend a few hours with, but would never respect.
"Pull the drain," Daniel told her.
She complied, and watched the piss swirl away. Daniel turned the shower on.
"Alright," he said. "That was nice, but clean up now. Don't want you smelling like piss, much as you deserve it."
Kattie took the offer gratefully, the part of her that was disgusted by the idea of being covered in piss having begun to rise back to the surface of her psyche. She showered as the crowd watched, shampooing her hair and rubbing down her whole body with the cheap motel soap, trying to wash away the bodily fluids of the 160 men who had fucked her throughout the night, plus the dozens of others who had only shot their stuff on her from afar. She stuck a couple fingers in her pussy to try to fish out any remaining cum, even though she knew it was pointless. She'd had cum inside of her continuously for the last 12 hours or so. Whatever damage it was going to do was probably already done. She noticed a steady, dull ache deep in her loins, a product of the constant barrage of dicks that had been fucking her all the way to the hilt in her pussy and asshole. Despite herself, she felt herself getting horny anew upon consideration of this ache.
She finished up and wrung out her hair then toweled off. There was of course a deeply embedded filth inside of her now that she knew she'd probably never wash away, but at least the outside of her body felt somewhat freshened up.
"We're going to take you back home," Daniel told her, and Kattie actually felt a sudden sinking feeling in her chest. It couldn't end. As long as this continued she wouldn't have to face the fallout. She perked up when he said, "but we're not through with you."
He raised his voice louder, addressing everyone in the room.
"We're heading back to her apartment. We'll post the address in the chat. Kattie's about to host an open-invite house party. Spread the address if you want."
She felt a surge of trepidation at the idea of dozens of strangers coming into her home, doing whatever they wanted, but she quickly told herself once again that it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
They marched her back outside and downstairs, completely naked in the gray light of dawn. Daniel's crew loaded her back up in the van, and they let a couple stragglers ride with them who had arrived late and hadn't had a piece of the action, two frat-looking bros. On the way back to her apartment the two of them fucked her in her ass and mouth, switching holes at one point. 162. One guy came in her mouth and the other up her ass, leaving it to leak out. Kattie wiped most of it up with her fingers and ate it, just to get rid of it as much as anything.
When they got back to her apartment complex it was about 7 am. As they pulled up in front of the stairs, she noticed that the apartment maintenance guy, Frank, the older guy who had given her creepy vibes ever since she moved in several months ago, was outside trimming the bushes. Great, Kattie thought, actually still humiliated about the prospect of coming face to face with this guy in her shame. He was going to love this. Every time he had come to her apartment to fix something, he had taken long leering gazes at her long, thin legs. She quit wearing shorts when she knew he was coming over. She even suspected that he had stolen a pair of her dirty panties one time when he fixed her AC while she was at work. Well now he'd get to see everything, up close and personal. In fact, she was certain Daniel and his crew were going to let him fuck her. Even after everything else she'd already been through, somehow this still made her feel bad. Oh well, better get used to the idea of anyone and everyone who wanted to fuck her getting to do so. She had really declared herself a public fuck slave, hadn't she?
Frank nearly dropped the shears when he saw her get out of the van nude. She avoided his gaze as they marched her past him.
"Apartment 328," Daniel told him with a wink.
They opened the door and just left it wide open as they went in. Already others were joining from the other location. They had Kattie get on her knees in the middle of the room, and she watched as all these men just poured into her apartment, among all of her personal possessions, everything she owned in the world. She felt so vulnerable.
"Make yourselves at home," Daniel told them. "Take whatever you want. Kattie doesn't want any of it anymore."
Soon she was kneeling before old Frank, sucking his ugly, funky-smelling dick, as predicted. Daniel warned him before he started that "This girl has been with more guys than any girl you've ever met," but Frank had assured him that he'd fucked prostitutes in his day, so he wasn't afraid of this little cooze. Soon his dick was in her unprotected cunt, pounding away roughly and desperately. Kattie hated herself for getting so wet for him, turned on by the mere fact of her assault. She provided him with plenty of natural lubrication to build up to a quick orgasm, whereupon he of course dumped his whole portion of hot, slick semen deep into her accommodating cunt.
Her apartment, meanwhile, began to be ransacked. Her dirty panties were the first to go, but soon they had turned out nearly everything, people picking up useless tidbits just as a souvenir, apparently wanting to take a little piece of her with them permanently.
A few more newcomers had arrived, evidently directed by the public posting of her address. As she took guy number 164 into her pussy as she rode him cowgirl style on her couch, she wondered how this would ever end. She suddenly realized how exhausted she was. She hadn't slept in over a day. But the line of people willing to come and fuck her might be endless. Her home address was out there now. There was nowhere to go to escape the dicks. Even Daniel and his crew were beginning to look bored.
After a couple more hours and 8 more new cocks, she was beginning to feel delirious. Most of the furniture from her living room was gone. They had taken the bare mattress off of her bed and dragged it to the middle of the floor, and she serviced her suitors here, among the wreckage of her previous life. A thing which could never be restored. She watched her things go with a slight sadness but also a growing sense of detachment, as if she were just watching from another world.
While she was being fucked doggy style in her ass by a guy with a particularly huge cock, her head hanging down in growing weariness, she suddenly heard a buzzing sound. She didn't know what it was at first, but suddenly she felt a tickling sensation on her scalp and then saw a long lock of her wavy, auburn-red hair fall to the mattress. She gasped. They were shaving her. Somehow, she hadn't expected or wanted this.
They brought out the full length mirror from her bathroom and leaned it up against the wall in front of her, letting her watch as the guy with his cock in her ass slowly ran clippers over every inch of her head, taking his time, relishing in the elimination of a piece of her that had obviously taken years to grow. Kattie watched in stunned silence. The hair fell away in big chunks, cleared away in silly strips up the middle of her scalp, leaving misplaced strands still attached, hanging from the sides. He shaved the top and front of her head first, leaving a fringe of long hair around the edges like some monk's horseshoe cut. As she saw the pool of loose red hair grow around her, she began to cry, silently, the tears rolling down her cheeks and then dropping down to the mattress. Of course the camera caught every moment.
They'd taken absolutely everything from her. Job, dignity, possessions, life, family, friends, now her hair. And yet she was still pulsing with the thrill of it. As the guy finished off the last strand of her hair, leaving her with a millimeter long crop of buzzed hair, he suddenly finished in her ass, coaxed to orgasm by his power over her. Someone gathered up the bulk of her fallen locks and took that as a souvenir. She just stayed on all fours, staring at herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself.
Not content with this humiliation, someone produced a straight razor and began lathering up her scalp with shaving cream. As this second guy took his spot up her cunt, Kattie realized that the two guys must have come together, and come prepared.
This guy went carefully, whisking away the remaining bit of hair on her head, shaving her scalp right down to the skin. He kept still while making contact with the razor, his dick buried in her but motionless, only giving her pussy a few pumps when he took the razor away to wipe away the hair and excess shaving cream. When he was done, her scalp was so smooth that it actually gleamed slightly in the light, pale and shiny. Before she could even wrap her head around this new image of herself, suddenly he came back in with the razor, almost as an afterthought, and swiped away her eyebrows, just like that. Just to add a final insult. Kattie couldn't recognize herself. She looked almost primordial, like she'd been born again. Just a smooth, completely hairless body. The guy gaze her pussy a few final quick pumps and then he pulled out and quickly stood up, jerking himself to completion all over the top of her shiny dome. Dropping a nut on her absurd, shiny bald head. People laughed.
CH 14
A few more people took a turn with her, intrigued by the dynamics of the hairless slave on the mattress. A creature stripped of everything. But eventually something strange happened. After 2 or so more hours after the head shaving, when many people had finally dispersed, taking whatever they wanted for keepsakes, Daniel announced loudly that the party was over "for now."
"Let's give her a bit of time to recuperate," he said, in what was the first hint of mercy he had shown her since they'd first met. "She's going to pass out soon. But keep an eye on the website."
Kattie wondered what that might signify, but she couldn't even think about it at the moment. She collapsed exhausted upon the mattress and fell asleep at once.
When she woke up, she realized that hours must have passed. The sun was already setting again. She looked around he ransacked apartment with bleary eyes. Most of her possessions were gone, along with nearly all her assailants. Then she noticed Daniel sitting on the bare floor in the corner, watching her.
"So you're up," he said.
There was only one other person now besides him, one of his original cronies. The camera was finally gone.
"Well I tell you what," he continued. "You can take a hell of a beating. We really couldn't break you. I've never met a girl with such a serious, heavy desire to be ruined."
She didn't fully understand what he was saying. She stared up at him from where she still lay on the mattress, her big doe eyes showing no sign of understanding.
"Incredible," Daniel said. "Well, do you still think you can take more?"
She just kept looking up at him. What did he expect her to say?
"I don't know."
He paused, as if waiting for something further. When it didn't come, he just said, "God bless you, girl."
Without another word, his henchman produced several long lengths of tough nylon cord, and they began binding it around her wrists and ankles - securely, but not so tight that it cut off her circulation. Pushing her so that she was lying flat on her back, they secured the ropes around her wrists to the few pieces of remaining heavy furniture on either side of her, so that were arms were bound in place, stretched out to either side of her. Next they did likewise with the rope around her ankles, tying them such that she was forced to keep her legs spread eagle. She tried to move: she was completely restrained, completely vulnerable. She couldn't shut her legs even an inch.
Daniel produced a large marker and wrote directly on the wall above her head: "WILL FUCK FOR FOOD" and made an arrow pointing down at her. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the scene: Kattie tied in place, her legs spread wide for all comers, staring dumbly into the camera, the vile message above.
"Well, this is where we part ways. I hope you enjoyed things. I'm going to put a combination lock on your door. I'm going to post the combo online, along with this picture, and your address. I'll post it on our website, but a few other places as well. I bet some randoms on Craigslist will find it quite interesting. Hopefully no one just decides to kidnap you and sell you into the sex trade. Guess that's the risk you'll have to take. You're at the mercy of the public now. I'm not coming back to make sure this one ends. Good luck with your new life, Kattie."
Kattie began shaking as they headed toward the door, straining at the ropes until they almost cut into her flesh. It was absolutely no use.
"No! You can't just leave me! Wait!"
But she already felt her will to fight it fading. As the door shut, leaving her alone in the empty apartment, just her tied up on a bare mattress, she felt a new surge of warped exhilaration, and a thick bead of pussy juice rolled out of her and down her ass crack.
[ Should this be the end to our story? if you like the story please leave a comment, let me know what you were thinking as you read it.]
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12
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Kattie's Abduction Fantasy Chapter 12
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Posted:Apr 25, 2024 9:02 am
Last Updated:Apr 29, 2024 5:05 am 8149 Views
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Scroll down to start from Chapter 1
Continuing the theme, the next guy dragged her into the bathroom and pushed her face deep into the toilet bowl. As he heard her gurgle he entered her doggy style, himself kneeling on the floor. She was just grateful that it had been cleaned somewhat recently. When he was about to climax, the man pulled out and came full upon the rim of the toilet. He just pointed at the white pearls that lay on the rim. Kattie knew what she was expected to do. Her tongue flush against the white porcelain, she licked the jizz up, finally having to kiss at it with her lips and suck it in to get it all up. Two more men came forward and added their loads to the rim of the toilet.
Steve watched Kattie kneeling before the toilet, a woman completely broken, ruined. 24 hours ago she was a beautiful, respectable young woman, who had only had sex with one man and was proper in all ways.
Reduced to this, licking the salty, rapidly-cooling cum, of men whose names she didn't know, from the rim of a motel toilet. God, how effective his plan had been. Realizing it was far more than he'd ever dreamed it might be. He watched her as she knelt there, so soft and exposed, the pink-rimmed soles of her feet tucked under her ass where she knelt, licking the toilet clean. Steve suddenly felt a huge rush of sadistic euphoria. The perfect girl, utterly ruined. It was something from his darkest fantasies, brought to life. He knew he should feel guilty, he just didn't. This fulfilled something heinous inside him. The pussy juice was still leaking out of her, leaving a connected strand from the heels of her feet to her vagina, stretching it long and thin when she rose up. How she hated it and loved it. Licking the cum from a fucking motel toilet. In that moment, his mind clouded and overwhelmed with cruel lust, he truly hoped that she would spend the rest of her days in some cheap Thai brothel like Rick had said, sucking 30 dicks a day for pennies.
They had the camera right on the rim, getting every detail of the action. Daniel narrated as she licked the last of the residual slime from the filthy surface: "Let it be known forever after, to any guy who might have considered dating her in the future, that Kattie Duval sucked strangers' cum off of a public toilet. You're not gonna have love in the future kattie, you're just gonna be a walking set of fuck-holes. Nobody's going to want to have a relationship with this perv." Kattie looked right into the lens as she tongued the last of the cum off. He was right, of course, and her eyes expressed a feeling of remorseful justification in this. After this they went back to fucking her.
When they had entered this room the sun had not even set on the previous day, but now gray light began to show over the horizon, marking the coming of the morning. When the running tally in the comments on-screen was at 158, the line of men taking turns inside of her seemed to have finally slowed to the point of completely stalling. It seemed that everyone who wanted a piece had taken it. Not everyone present had fucked her, but some seemed content to just watch, either unwilling to go on camera or to take the risk of fucking the same communal who had just given her unprotected pussy to dozens and dozens of other men. The realization that she was such a repulsive slut now that not everyone would even want to touch her was enough to push Kattie to one more shameful orgasm, spreading her legs wide for the audience still standing before her bed, showing them everything from her tits to the soles of her feet to her spread, soiled cunt as she diddled her clit for them like the pathetic she was.
"Well, not everyone wants to fuck you anymore," Daniel said, "and I can't say I blame them. You are one nasty slut. Luckily, we've got the fair warning recorded for the whole world. But, I think we can still let everyone participate without even having to touch you if they don't want to. A good bukkake for the cum dumpster. Everyone present is encouraged to participate. Whether you've cum tonight or not. If you can work up a load, you're welcome to plant it on this 's face."
Kattie was kneeling on the ground as this announcement was made, both feet tucked under her butt like they'd been as she worshipped the toilet, the tips of her toes, her heels, and the balls of her feet tinged with pink. She felt a surge of pussy juice drop through her ankles down to the carpet as she looked up at what was awaiting her. Basically everyone in the room, still 60 or more men standing around, had their dicks in hand now, slowly jerking them as they stared at her hungrily. Many had already fucked her and were still horny enough to give her a second load, but many others fell into the category of people who weren't willing to fuck her, but were perfectly OK with disdainfully dropping a load on a slut's face.
She ran a finger up her wet slit as she waited for the first splash of cum, shuddering in anticipation as her finger ran across her clit. Her heart was racing. Looking at the waiting horde of testosterone, she felt a wave of terror, but also extreme excitement. She'd taken a good handful of loads on her face tonight at various points in the action, but it was never the focus of the action, there had usually been something to distract her. And certainly never several in a row, much less 60. Facials had always given her a particular sick thrill when watching porn. She loved how degrading they were for the women, how disgusting. She would always get off, imagining herself in their position, being reduced to a cum-glazed wreck. Now it was happening. And probably everyone she'd ever known was going to see it.
By the time the first guy stepped up and dropped his jizz on her face, a huge, pearly spurt that landed right in the middle of her forehead, she was already quivering with another orgasm. By the time it subsided, the second load had hit, and then the third. Soon they were coming one after the other, with seldom a pause in between. When that many guys were waiting to blow their loads, it was easy to always have somebody ready to go. The camera was there catching every load up close, or circling behind between cum shots, taking in the full context of her, degraded on her knees, rubbing herself furiously between her legs, painted in cum, before the masturbating wall of men.
Cum landed all over her face, in her eyes, some of it splattering the front of her chest. She instinctively licked off everything that landed within reaching distance of her tongue, swirling it in circles around her mouth, eager to gobble down the filth covering her, the filth that personified her. She was so intoxicated on her disgrace that she didn't even care when great globs of the sticky, vile stuff landed in her hair. She knew it would be hard to get out, but what did it matter? She could walk down the street covered in cum at this point and her reputation wouldn't get any worse. She rubbed it in, running both hands through her hair, slicking it back, licking the cum off her fingers afterward or rubbing it over her clit as she went back to masturbating.
Ten minutes in and her face was already completely masked in the chunky batter. Her eyelids were essentially glued shut, but when she tried to crack them open a bit she saw through the cobwebs of cum connecting her top and bottom eyelashes that they were now showing a slideshow of pictures from her Facebook on the TV for the entertainment of all present, contrasting the happy, normal girl there with the filthy cum slut on her knees, taking all comers. She closed her eyes again. She played it up for them. She wanted to be the despicable cum slut. She opened her mouth and let some of the guys shoot directly on her tongue. She kept her eyes open as long as she could bear, the bursts of cum that landed on her eyeballs stinging viciously. The whites of her eyes were actually pink after a while, uniformly bloodshot from the bite of the cum as she held the camera's gaze with an uber-slutty look of prolonged eye contact time and again. Still she held back the tears and blossomed for her assailants in the rain of semen, each batch of cum seeming to give her a new jolt of ecstasy.
By the time they were done with her, her face was not recognizable at all. Every detail of her features was hidden beneath layer after layer of cum, so viscous and thick that you couldn't even see through it to her skin except in a few scattered places. Her hair completely smeared with cum, actually soaked. She couldn't open her eyes at all now, and whenever she breathed through her nose cum would suck straight up her nostrils, so she had to hold her mouth open slightly to breathe. The cum had actually accumulated to the point that it had a very noticeable weight to it. She made no effort to wipe any of it away. Let her skin absorb it. What else was her face for, if not that? She frigged her clit mercilessly, drunk on the overwhelming extent of her disgrace. The expulsions of 60 or more men's nuts soaking into the skin of her face, filling her pores. The cum on her body she rubbed in. She wanted it to just become a part of her. She wished she could somehow leave this mask on forever, just replace her identity with this wall of cum. It represented her so perfectly.
Daniel came forward with something, and pressed it flat against her forehead. It was her drivers' license. It stuck to the cum, like a sales tag applied to her. The cameraman took in the explicit image: the cum-drenched fuck goddess on her knees, upended in semen, the defiled mass contrasting so sharply with the smiling, happy, clean-faced girl in the picture on the license. Like an obscene before and after picture, contained in one. They got in close enough that you could read every detail on her license. Hair: Blond. Eyes: Brown. Height: 5 ft 5 in. Address: 1164...She heard a dozen camera phones snapping.
"Good luck getting a job after this, bitch. Spread this shit far and wide boys."
Someone took the license and shoved it in their pocket. A memento of the time they participated in a girl's destruction, apparently. Not that it mattered now. She couldn't go back to being a normal person anyway. She rubbed her clit furiously, gyrating her loins in circles, feeling the cum coating every inch of her face, her identity, overdosing on this ultimate shame and submission. She wanted to just have everything taken from her. It's what she deserved.
Now they were rummaging through her purse. Daniel or one of the others had brought it apparently. She heard them upend it on the bed. People grabbed the rest of the stuff, all apparently eager for a keepsake. Someone opened her wallet and pulled out one of her credit cards, and proceeded to scrape the cum from her face using it, sliding it off of her and into a large margarita glass that the crew also apparently had on hand for such an event. She knew what was coming next. They got the vast majority off, the bulk of the volume of it, although the slimy residue remained all over her. Still, the large glass was almost half full of the vile liquid, sloshing around in layers of various viscosity, some parts more liquid, and some more chunky, some with a slightly yellow tint to it, marbled swirls and globs upon globs.
As the onlookers crowded around her in a circle where she still sat on her knees on the floor, she raised the glass and slowly tilted it back, her lips meeting the rim. The first wave of the disgusting stuff touched her lips, and before she could balk she opened her mouth and forced the first gulp down. She had to fight the urge to retch, tasting the now room temperature stuff on her tongue, and seeing how that first gulp had barely put a dent in what remained for her to drink. But then the sheer depravity and humiliation of what she was doing kicked in again, and the gag reflex was suppressed. She took another drink, the stuff slowly sliding onto her tongue, and then down her throat. What better way to demonstrate her worthlessness for all other things but fornication? She was unfit for society. She filled her mouth with another huge swig, holding it in there in a great pool, opening her mouth for the camera, gurgling the cum so that it frothed up and bubbled, foaming out of her mouth briefly. She swallowed it down and then closing her eyes she tilted back the rest of the glass, chugging the thick sludge as quickly as she could, her mind trying to wrap around the fact that this huge amount of liquid she was taking so long to work through was the ejaculate of dozens of men.
She finished the glass, holding it above her head so that the last drops slowly fell onto her tongue, and then sat staring at the camera sulkily, panting as if she had just run a marathon.
"We're going to take the liberty of emptying your bank account for you," Daniel suddenly told her, him thinking this would finally make her say the safe word. But before she had quite had time to quell her stomach from the liter of cum she had just drunk. She looked up. Sure enough, there were all her finances on the screen. They had logged into her online bank somehow, probably by finding the info on the card she kept in her purse.
"There are plenty of other people who could use this money more than you. It will be like a fresh start for you. You can turn tricks to get back on your feet again. Maybe you'll be able to find someone willing to fuck you for $10. You'll like it."
"yes that's probably true." she responded without and signs of distress.
In her functionally delirious state of mind, Kattie didn't even care. He was right. She deserved nothing. She said nothing, and instinctively clenched her sphincter for the random opportunistic guy who was currently probing her cum-lubricated butthole with his finger. She was just an object for the free usage of men. What did she need money for?
Just then a new auto deposit showed up from her last two weeks at her job.
As a couple last stragglers who had arrived late came in and took their turns in her defiled pussy, Kattie watched distractedly as the few thousand dollars she had saved in her account vanished, transfer by transfer, into other accounts. As she felt this last guy spurting his hot seed into her worn out vagina, she thought to herself "So now I really have nothing," and this thought made her feel nothing.
The remaining residue of cum coating her body was now beginning to dry, starting to form a film over her skin. Daniel was standing over her, looking down at this broken creature with a look that was somewhere between pride and disdain. He seemed to be waiting for something, pausing, but Kattie just kept looking up at him like a chastened dog, awaiting master's orders.
"How else to defile a woman?" Daniel said aloud. He seemed almost genuinely exasperated. He touched a single finger to her hair, damp with musty cum. "Let's clean her up boys."
The next thing Kattie knew, she was squatting on the balls of her feet in the bathtub, looking up at Daniel and the cameraman and a few others who had managed to squeeze in next to him. The rest of the crowd was standing outside the bathroom, trying to peep in through the doorway.
"We'll clean you up good," Daniel said. "But first, you probably need to relieve yourself don't you? You've been busy all night, but you've had a good bit to drink. You must really have to go. Piss yourself."
Now that he mentioned it, Kattie noticed that she really did have to use the bathroom. She had always been shy about peeing, even having to work to allow herself to relax enough to do it at work when other people could hear her piss splashing in the toilet through the stall walls. So even now, so far past the point of decency as to be absurd, she had to work for a moment and take a few deep breaths before her bladder would begin emptying itself.
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10
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Kattie's Abduction Fantasy CH 11
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Posted:Apr 24, 2024 1:26 pm
Last Updated:Apr 29, 2024 4:13 pm 8271 Views
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If just starting, make sure to Start from Chapter !, The Set Up
By the time she looked up and noticed that a group of four of her male coworkers, men she was being polite and curt and professional with as recently as earlier that afternoon, were now standing next in line, she was so worked up that this fresh burst of humiliation alone suddenly brought her to a quivering, shriek-moaning orgasm before them.
*
Steve had met up with three of his coworkers toward the back of the crowd, greeting them with a shrug and a carefully planned laugh of feigned bewilderment. He was pleased to see that they were already drunk. It was two young guys, Trey and Don, who were near his age, but also their 50 something year old supervisor, Rick. Rick was always professional but you could tell there was a wild streak suppressed somewhere in him. Well, it was certainly being revealed now.
They watched together for the 45 minutes or so as they waited their turn, watching their demure, proper young coworker get fucked 40 ways to Sunday in front of them. They shared laughing sentiments that if they'd had any idea she was such a wild flooze, they would have had some more fun with her in the past.
"She was a nice enough girl, but almost...too proper. The kind of girl that would call HR if you flirted with her too hard, you know? Guess I was fucking wrong. Damn, look at her take those dicks. This'll be a great team-building experience for us, boys. Not so much for her, I guess. Do youo think she can stay employed with us after this?"
"Ha! said the other, unfortunately I don't think so, everyone she knows at the company knows of her exploits now. But I'd love it if she could."
"Why in the hell would she torpedo her career like this. She was doing so well at increasing our internet traffic."
"Yea, obviously she just thrives on getting 'views'. And boy is she racking them up."
They watched as man after man took her, most bareback and just fucking wrecklessly through the anonymous cum of other men. Some however wore condoms, but when they came they would always then remove them and squeeze the contents out into Kattie's open, waiting mouth or into her pussy itself, as if to emphasize that the condom was for their protection, not hers.
Steve's turn came first of his group. When Kattie had looked up and seen the four of them standing there, waiting to fuck her next, she had made a strange moaning sound that was almost half a sob, and had begun ejecting a stream of squirt from her pussy all over the bed. She then collapsed backward onto her back, her legs still spread eagle for them. Then fuck me too, you bastards, he imagined her thinking.
He dropped his pants and lay between those long legs, the pale, lithe thighs plastered in sweat and cum. What a scene of ruin, especially when contrasted with the mental image of her just earlier that same day at work, proper and safe and self-respecting. He had to say though, he thought the look she had on the other end of 75 dicks fit her well.
As he slid easily into her warm, wet cunt, still inviting and hospitable after all this, he was briefly amazed at the incredibly intimate feeling of fucking a girl bareback. He'd done it before, but every time he was newly astounded upon that first penetration, as if he'd forgotten how incredible it felt, how personal. Feeling the hot, wet folds of her pussy parting with a little resistance to make room for your cock. It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that 75 plus other men had just felt this exact thing with her, that plenty more would follow, their dicks exactly where his was, rubbing their swollen cock heads against the same internal folds of her love canal that had been so private, so exclusive, only the day before. So opposite now. Such a thing to make her give up. They were on the other side of an impassable gulf now, one that could never be crossed back over. She was now this forever . She could never take these dicks back, nor the ones that would follow. He had made that choice for her, and she was none the wiser.
She had wrapped her legs around him, her feet locked together behind his ass, pulling him deeper into her as he thrust. She put a hand behind his head, her fingers in his hair, and looked deep into his eyes, mainlining on the shame, the position oddly intimate, as if they were alone in this room, actually making love somewhere private after a date like a normal couple. Perhaps, in another life. As if reading his thoughts, she whispered "I'm just a ," still looking deep into his eyes, maintaining the most intense eye contact of either of their lives.
He wouldn't last. Their faces mere inches away from one another's, oceans of unreadable thoughts and looks and suggestions crossing between those gazes, her unaware of his role in her degradation. The shame and lust and release and defeat in her eyes. When he came, he suddenly kissed her, deeply, in a sudden urge to feel as much of her as possible at once. He thrust his pelvis so that he was as deep in her as possible when he unloaded, the very tip of his cock actually making contact with her cervix, suddenly hoping in that moment that he would be the one whose seed managed to take hold in her womb that night. Why not? A final level of conquest.
He watched his coworkers take her after him, one by one adding to her baptism of shame. Shame and degraded fulfillment, a forcing of her most private, extreme fantasies. Still she did not comprehend why or how this was happening to her, why or how someone could have known her innermost desires, to be shamed and degraded and objectified and ruined. And did not the fact of her opposition to the actual fulfillment of those desires actually intensify the power of their taking place? For to have the fantasy and actually choose to enact it upon oneself voluntarily would lead to a less intense sense of violation and shame, which was in the end the goal. So her non-consent to this exploitation and assault was in fact the key component of its effectiveness, the kernel at the root of the constant hum in her clit that radiated out through her body and kept her almost constantly at the edge of an orgasm and now and then a more enthusiastic participant in her own degradation.
Kattie thought these things, but in fewer words, lost in the whirlwind of her raging thoughts of lust and fleeting rationality. When her boss' turn came to fuck her he took her missionary style, but standing next to the bed where she lay, with her pussy right up on the edge of it. He grabbed her around the ankles and lifted her feet up toward his face, then popped two of her toes in his mouth as he went to town bareback in her soaked cunt.
"I've always loved these feet," he told her, briefly freeing his lips. "I only have a partial foot fetish, anyway. Only the shapeliest do anything for me, and yours are perfect." The tone and ease with which he spoke seemed to indicate that he was versed in the art of degrading women. "I'd always love it when you indulged and wore those peep-toe pumps. I never wanted to even suggest that you wear heels more often, for fear of HR. But look at us now."
He sucked each toe in succession, giving himself time with each one, even tonguing and sucking the webbing and spacing between each one, really taking his leisure and the fullness of indulgence with both that and her pussy. The sensation was strange, slightly ticklish, but Kattie found herself freshly thrilled by it. The simultaneous attention, derisiveness, and genuine enthusiasm he seemed to be showing for even this part of her body excited her. Every inch of her body reduced to meat for the disposable pleasure of every man.
As he built to a climax he began fucking her harder, with greater urgency. He removed her feet from his mouth and spread her legs at the knees, now leaning across her torso and pressing his face in toward her ear, so that only she could hear him.
"Still coming in on Monday?" he whispered with a little laugh. "I'd love to just keep you under my desk from now on. But I don't think the higher-ups would allow it."
He was thrusting into her savagely now, the froth of her arousal actually splashing up onto his upper pelvis now with each ramming home of his cock.
"Yeah, I'd love to keep you down there all day, letting the boys use you as a little favor whenever they wanted. But you can't be on the corporate payroll now, sadly. Yeah, you'd better get used to this. The only career option left after this is going to be sucking dick for 12 hours a day in some Thai brothel. I always knew you were a secret little . Shame on you." His thrusts punctuated each word now. "Shame...on...you!"
With that he unloaded in her, his breath hot in her ear as she felt the warm crud spurting out of him, joining the vile tithe already tabernacled within her, being absorbed by the vulnerable internal flesh of her vaginal cavity. She felt waves of heat pulse through her body, reverberating from the thrill of the degradation and fear that his words gave her. He was right, and it horrified and exulted her. A for life.
He pulled out and then as one final insult presented his diminishing member to her face. "Suck your filth off of me, ."
She found herself doing it without question, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be ordered about like some self-hating sex servant, her mouth sucking the sweat and vaginal juice and the semen of multiple men from his shaft, and then moving up even to lick the quim from his lower belly and suck it from his matted pubic hair.
"Open your mouth," he ordered her, and upon her acquiescence he spit full into her upturned mouth, globs of his spit landing right on her tongue. Like a chastised dog, she looked down, closed her mouth and swallowed it.
Daniel was beaming. "We should hire you!" he said to Rick. "That's how this flooze needs to be treated! Who's next? More than one, she can take it! She needs it!"
The next discernible period of time ran together for Kattie, faded by the drugs and the alcohol that kept being supplied in a slow, steady drip, just enough to keep her rolling, but never enough to push her beyond consciousness. They wanted her to be cognizant of her defile. A spectacle of dicks, a spectacle of ways to destroy a woman. They had finally surrendered all pretense of restraint, the alcohol and drugs being freely passed around to all having broken any remaining vestige of it. Cameras in her face, at her asshole, once positioned to capture up close as load after load poured out of her, several men having elected to creampie her in succession. Hours and hours of footage of her being fucked in every way the most extreme pornstar had ever been fucked.
They tossed her this way and that, manhandling her like a ragdoll, seemingly unconcerned with their own health now so liquored up were they, barebacking her and kissing her and eating her out and some spreading her asscheeks and frenching her anus, kissing and sucking the puckered starfish of her sphincter. She creamed and squirted on dicks, on faces, on the fists of men so emboldened that her two lower holes were made to grip both their wrists simultaneously, her pussy and anus stretched to new limits. Daniel and his crew ensured that no man went twice, not until everyone present had their turn. Their concern was to increase the number of individual men who fucked her, to increase the taboo body count number that she would carry the rest of her days.
As for the value of this number, Kattie had no guess. She felt like she could barely remember a time before dicks. She would have had no idea how many men had used her that night, but she finally noticed in one moment of partial clarity that the commenters on the screen had been keeping track: 136, apparently, since this whole ordeal had begun. She couldn't even wrap her head around the number. 136 different men had fucked her, and more yet seemed to be waiting. She was trash now, and yet she wanted more. One commenter was asking if she was going to break the record. Some chick had put together a 900 man gang fuck. Albeit that bitch was physically wrecked for life.
The men entered and used her so easily now. Her butthole, which had been so tight earlier in the evening, seemed to have lost its elasticity, and continued gaping open even after someone pulled out. She just relaxed her holes and let the revolving carousel of dicks fuck her as deeply as they could. How many times she had watched porn of women in situations similar to this and reveled in it. Brought herself to an orgasm in a way that nothing else could. To see girls stripped of their autonomy, their cleanliness and dignity, reduced to a disposable thing that men would use without any thought to the consequences for the girl. And now it was happening to her.
Not long after seeing her number, at her lowest moment, they put the camera right in her face again as she was being fucked, and told her to tell everyone what a she was. Staring deep into the lens, into the thousands of thousands of viewers, and the untold millions who would watch later, she did so, almost passionately, firmly dedicated to just completing the destruction wrought upon her.
"My name is Kattie Duval," she said, feeling the dick fill her, "and I am a purely sex addicted piece of trash." The words seemed to add to her intoxication. She wanted to just sink into the shame now, to drown in it. She saw her face on the TV, filling the screen, capturing in perfect clarity every detail of her skin, every twitch of her facial muscles. "I've just fucked 130 men. No, More. I have no worth now except making men cum. I will fuck anyone and everyone who wants it for the rest of my life. Don't let me tell you no. This pussy is yours."
More time. More fucking. Dicks, fingers, fists, entering every part of her, grown men with no restraints, behaving like sex-starved getting cunt for the first time, finally getting away with something. Her tits slapped, mauled or clenched. Some men slapped her full across the face while another plowed her from behind. The flash of indignity smothered her in lust. Her mouth licked every body part offered to her, cleaning sweat from crotches.
There came some overweight Mexican man who, even after all that, decided to have her extend her tongue out as far as she could while he fucked her missionary style, and proceeded to full-on lick the surface of her tongue with his own, licking and feeling the rough bumps of her tastebuds, finally sucking her tongue into his mouth to the point of pain when he finally jismed in her cunt in hot, stuttering release, this feeling like a new extent of violation even after everything else.
Seeing her sudden look of revulsion at sharing such a sloppy french kiss (of sorts) with this discusting man, the next three men, careless of their own hygiene by liquor and drugs, all took it upon themselves to lick, slurp and suck on her tongue with great relish as they lay between her legs, fucking her.
Hearing her involuntary whines of distaste, Daniel taunted: "What, you don't kiss the guys who you let fuck you? What are you, just a ? You're not getting paid for this. Give them some sugar, honey."
She wasn't sure why, but this mouth to mouth, the swapping of spit and the meeting of tongues, did indeed make her feel more degraded and used than most things prior. Almost as if this was an act reserved for romance, and now they were making a mockery of even that with her. Of course, predictably, the depravity and revulsion soon turned her on even more, and by the time the third guy started on her, she began orgasming as soon as he sucked her tongue up into his own mouth. She was squirting on his dick even as he began penetrating her. Following this, a man in a business suit took his turn, and instead of kissing her made her get down on the floor and lick his shoes all over until they were squeaky clean, even the bottoms.
"Now no one will want to kiss that pretty, filthy mouth anymore," he said with leering disdain.
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7
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Fan Game
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Posted:Apr 22, 2024 2:14 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2024 10:43 am 8574 Views
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Someone gave me an idea this morning. 4/22/24 For those of you that like the "Fan" game on alt. We can play a little game. If you are a fan of mine, I'll give you the opportunity to control one of my lovense toys. I have 5 of them. You'll just need to download the lovense remote app.
Let's say as of Wednesday noon my time the results will be tallied.
The 5th place fan can have 10 minutes with the toy of my choosing. Including private chat in the app.
The 4th place fan can have 20 minutes. with the toy of my choosing. Including private chat in the app.
The 3rd place fan can have 30 minutes, with the toy of their choosing. Including private chat in the app.
The 2nd place fan can have 45 minutes, with the toy of my choosing, with voice notes from me (and hopefully you).
The 1st place fan can have 1 hour, either with the toy of their choosing while i'm home with voice notes, or with the toy of my choosing while I am out in public.
Drop a message if this sounds fun or blast me if it sounds too conceited. Oh and remember I can not initiate messages on here, but I can respond to them.
To play one has to hotlist the person that they want to be a fan of. The amount of #1 fan will be shown then.
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17
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Kattie's Abduction Fantasy Chapter 9-10
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Posted:Apr 21, 2024 7:33 pm
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 9:42 am 8076 Views
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Make sure to scroll down and start at Chapter 1
"Hope those dicks have got your shitter limbered up."
Even with the poppers still running through her system, Kattie had to try to control the muscles in her anus to relax. This was a new, more intense violation. Her sphincter clenched against the hard plastic invader, now nearly a foot deep in her rectum, instinctively trying to pinch it off or push it out. But it was not about to leave. Once he had it fully inserted, Daniel began to slowly widen it, forcing Kattie's anal tunnel to gape open. She was sweating and moaning in intense discomfort. She gripped the bedsheets until her knuckles turned white.
"Get a good shot now," Daniel told the camera operator.
Kattie could see on the screen that her asshole was being held open maybe three inches wide. It felt like someone had shoved a baseball bat into her. The inner walls of her rectum were a vivid dark pink, almost red. At first her gape just led eventually to darkness, but then they flicked on a bright light at the front of the camera, and suddenly you could see all the way into her ass, down to where it turned and led off at a different angle.
Kattie could hardly believe that the profane image she was looking at was a part of her. They recorded their shameful footage for maybe four or five minutes, making sure to document everything in thorough detail, before finally clamping the speculum shut again and withdrawing it. Kattie had never felt such intense relief. It had felt like she was being ripped apart. And all for the gratification of a million perverts. Even after the speculum was all the way out her asshole continued gaping open of its own volition for a long time. Kattie had to squeeze her sphincter muscles to try to make it shut, but at first it was almost like it just had a new closed diameter. Finally it returned more or less to normal.
"Now lets take a look inside her front."
They pushed her up into a sitting position and then spread her long, slender legs, a guy on each side of her holding each leg as wide as they could get it to go, making Kattie completely spread eagle. On the screen, she could see the camera being situated so that it was focused solely on her, her body filling nearly the entirety of the screen. Her legs were bent at the knee while spread, so as to allow the focus to get in tighter while still keeping her feet in the picture, for those guys that were into that. They wanted every single bit of her possible to be on display at once. The scarlet bedsheets behind her served as a backdrop to make her creamy skin stand out in greater contrast.
"You have a beautiful pussy, Kattie." Daniel said. He traced the slick crack of her mound with one finger, flicking the slight flange of her inner labia back and forth. He looked at the screen. "I love this image with your pussy and face framed together. A beautiful face for a beautiful pussy. They really complement each other. Hopefully everyone who looks you in the face after today will be able to immediately draw up a mental image of this pussy to go with it. We'll try to make it easy for them."
He walked over to the desk, where she noticed for the first time that there was a large implement there of some kind: a clear, plastic cylinder about the width of a wine bottle.
"It's really a shame, in a way, that you're letting that beautiful pussy get ruined. I'm not sure it will ever be the same after today."
Kattie felt a gush of wetness drool out of her cunt, spilling out in a white, creamy bead that was partly her own juice and partly the cum of multiple guys. They'd wiped down the outside of her body, but the inside still held the remnants of her many partners.
With her legs held open firmly in place by the two guys, Daniel began inserting the clear cylinder into her pussy. The wetness between Kattie's legs ensured that he didn't need lube for this side. The implement was slightly tapered on the front end, which allowed the initial point of entry, but then it quickly became thicker, reaching that wine bottle width. It was far bigger than any of the dicks that had fucked Kattie, and was thus the widest her pussy had ever been stretched. At least this hole had more elasticity than her ass. She involuntarily began breathing in short, shallow breaths, almost feeling as if she were giving labor in reverse. She looked down in disbelief as the clear plastic cylinder slowly sank further into her, and then finally bottomed out at the absolute deepest point of her vagina. She felt it nudge gently but firmly against her cervix, and then, looking down, saw as a generous portion of cum suddenly squeezed out of her, displaced by the cylinder taking up every single square millimeter of real estate in her pussy. Her pussy lips strained around the perimeter of the hollow tool. The intense discomfort of the stretch felt almost metaphorical for the unfathomable extent of her exposure.
And how exposed she was. Again the lights on the camera flicked on. The walls of the clear cylinder were strong, but thin, causing essentially zero obscurity whatsoever. It was obviously specifically designed to offer unparalleled views inside of a woman's vagina, and it was impeccable at its job. Looking at herself on the screen, Kattie felt it was possible that no woman in history had ever been more exposed. From her face to her asshole to the soles of her bare feet...to the gaping tunnel of her defiled vagina, lit all the way back to the pink ring of her cervix, the entrance to her very womb. The core of her womanhood, held open for the consideration of the whole world. All crystal clear, unmistakable. Broadcast to the ends of the earth, for posterity, not to mention to the million plus live viewers online and the dozens of men standing in the room.
Kattie looked at this insanely explicit image of herself, still only partially able to mentally accept that it was her, that this was really happening. She was both horrified and masochistically turned on. Turned on by the fact that her life was being destroyed. That all of her private reservations and insecurities were being amplified a billion times over, then ripped from her and wadded up. She could see how flushed her face was, how obviously blossoming with lust and humiliation. She was and always had been a deeply shy, reserved person. That must be why this had always been her darkest fantasy. To have forced on her the ultimate possible manifestation of her insecurities. The ultimate submission and masochism. She had never consciously realized that that was what she so thoroughly wanted until this happened. She used to be almost debilitatingly embarrassed just by having a single doctor at the gyno look inside her vagina, and now anyone and everyone was, all at once. The deep, forbidden tingle she had felt while spread in those stirrups was now a waterfall pouring out of her exhibited loins.
After a torturous amount of time taking in the full context shot, they of course got in close for the detailed examination of her cunt's interior. For it was just a cunt now, wasn't it? Pussy seemed too precious of a term to apply to the filthy thing onscreen.
Another several agonizing few minutes of intense documentation and the cylinder was slowly removed. Before her pussy had even had time to recover or close back, Daniel put three fingers from each hand in and held her open for another couple minutes, to allow for interior footage without the cylinder present. Then, just when he said "Alright, I think that just about covers everything this slut could ever offer anyone," and Kattie thought she was going to get a brief reprieve, Daniel slipped his entire fist into her.
She was shocked at how easily he did it. One moment she had been empty (even if gaped), and now she was looking down at her pussy lips completely enclosed around a man's wrist. Of course the cylinder had cleared the way for him, but still. Psychologically it was staggering. She was just a , whose cunt could take every bit of a man at any time. He pumped his fist back and forth inside of her, pulling the rest of her now-sweating-again body close to him. Then with his other hand he produced a vibrator and held it against her clit. He began to mutter crudely in her ear, his breath hot.
"You love this don't you? You want every man in the world to see this, to know what a slut you are. Isn't that right?"
The vibrator teased all the sexual build up out of her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure across her body, smoothing over the intensity of the fist in her pussy. She felt chills run up and down her back. His fist was sliding back and forth effortlessly, making a slushing noise as he fist-fucked her soaked cunt.
"Yes, yes I do!" she gasped, loudly, unable to conceal it. The added pleasure of the vibrator was making her appreciate the fist in her more. She was beginning to love it. What better way to surrender completely than to just let a man defile your supposedly sacred parts with his entire fucking hand? "You all own me. Every part of me!" she barely audibly exhaled.
Suddenly he pulled back and ducked down on the floor next to the bed, but keeping his hands doing what they were doing to her body. If someone hadn't been there to keep her in an upright position on the edge of the bed she would have fallen. Keeping his hands busy but his body out of the way of the camera, Daniel said, loudly:
"Then tell them. Let every guy out there know how much you love surrendering everything you have to them. How much you love knowing that this video will be everywhere, indefinitely. That everywhere you go for the rest of your life, you will have to assume that every stranger you interact with or pass on the street will have very possibly seen it, or own copies of it. You do love that, don't you?"
"Yes! YES!" she cried.
A long, slow orgasm was building over her entire body. Yes. Yes! She would say anything right now. And to a large part of her in this moment, it was true, and that part was now dictating everything she said.
"Do you want every guy on the street to know that they can do whatever they want to you, at any time?"
"I DO! I FUCKING DO!" She was grinding her hips back and forth wildly now, almost fucking his fist now more than it was fucking her.
"Say it, explicitly. Say that any man, no matter who he is or what he looks like, can use you in any way they want, for the rest of your life. You want to fuck every man who recognizes you."
The orgasm was beginning to rip through her in full force now. She was nearly delirious.
"I DO! I WANT...EVERYONE...TO...FUCK ME!!"
Her toes were curling back and forth, and her head lolled back as she let forth a completely unbridled scream of surrender, pleasure, and release. Her juices were just pouring down Daniel's forearm in rivulets, dripping off of his elbow. Still riding the intense afterglow, and nearly building to a second one, she heard Daniel say "clarify it for them. Make sure they know you really want it!"
He slowed his hand a bit. She desperately needed him to speed up. The word "clarify" kicked in some of her legal writing skills. She heard herself continue, without further prompting:
"My name is Kattie Duval from Lakewood, California, and I am the fuck-property of every man who recognizes me and requests the use of my body for the rest of my life. I want to live out my humiliating fantasies. The word No is just a part of my reluctance fantasy. I don't have the ability to say no. If I say the word 'no,' I'm really saying 'yes.' "
Another orgasm was cresting. She couldn't believe what she was hearing herself say, but it was pushing her straight to another release. Saying these things into that camera was giving her the greatest rush of her life.
"Anything you do to me, anything, all the fucking i do...it... is...consensual. No...matter...WHAT! I am consenting to all sexual conduct toward me until the day I die. I love it all and it is my desire to be taken and ravaged. There is no need to ask. Consider this video my digital signature.
Another ferocious orgasm rocked her. At that moment, Daniel pulled his fist all the way out of her with an audible plop. A waterfall of squirt poured out of her, so much that it all pooled up maybe an inch deep in the indentation in the bed in front of her crotch.
They let her lay back for a moment to finally recover. She panted deeply on the bed, suddenly physically and emotionally spent to her core. What the fuck had she just said? She looked up, at the still jam packed room of men all staring at her like hungry dogs. She was not done. Not nearly done. She tried to count the number of men who had their dicks out, brazenly jerking them, obviously still looking for a piece of the action. It had to be over 30. She let her head collapse back onto the bed.
"Well," Daniel was saying. "You heard her. She wants to fuck basically every guy on earth. Let's let her get a good head start by tackling everyone left in this room, and those of you out on the walkway. To keep things somewhat under control, let's make sure only guys get to go who haven't had a turn yet. We don't want anyone to be left out. And don't be afraid to get a bit more creative with what you make this bitch do. I think the fist has really broadened the horizons of what she wants. So, who's next?"
CH 10
Daniel floated a platter of the ground up poppers in front of Kattie's nose again, which she snorted up without hesitating. She had just been fucked by somewhere in the ballpark of 40 guys, and it seemed that her session may not even be halfway through. She needed all the drug assistance she could get. The warmth and the stuffy feeling of contentment coursed through her again. She let her body relax itself.
Two new guys were standing next to the bed, jerking themselves to get fully hard, staring at her along with the gallery of men in the rest of the room and spilling out onto the walkway outside, dozens of them, all with their attention centered on her, predatory. Every one of them just vying for his turn to get his dick inside of her, not a one of them caring about her pleasure, comfort, or safety. They just wanted to use her, even if it destroyed her. Perhaps especially if it destroyed her. She felt incredibly vulnerable and threatened in that moment: her alone, completely nude and unprotected, surrounded by a surging mass of aggressive testosterone, all aimed at her. She imagined all 50 plus of those waiting dicks getting inside of her, 50 plus loads of semen being dumped in her. Even in her fear, she felt another huge tingle of excitement rush to her loins. She couldn't imagine anything hotter.
Then they were back at her. Some guy pushed her down so that she was laying flat on her stomach, but pulled her ass up high so he could mount her from behind. He rubbed the head of his dick up and down the crack of her labia a few times to borrow some lubrication, then plunged full length into her asshole. Kattie felt her breath leave her momentarily, still after all these cocks. This guy was especially well-endowed. As he began pounding into her, the camera guy got right up close in her face, so that her expressions were the focus of the shot, her face nearly filling the frame. Every ounce of her humiliation displayed. The guy fucking her was just a thrusting blur in the background.
"Give us a little commentary," the camera guy said.
"I'm...getting...fucked in my ass," Kattie offered awkwardly.
"By who?"
"I don't know."
"What does that make you feel like, to not even know the guy whose bare dick is buried eight inches in your rectum? Look into the camera, not at me. Tell all your friends."
"It makes...me...feel...like a ," she panted between the thrusts of her partner. It was true, and she hated it and loved it at the same time. They were all already watching. They had already seen everything, and she could never face any of them again. What difference did it make if she told them?
Suddenly Daniel crouched near her, holding her cellphone.
"Looks like your phone has been blowing up for the last couple hours," he said. "I'd kind of neglected it. But it seems like a lot of people are worried about you, or want answers. Do you want to go ahead and give them an answer now, to the camera?"
Kattie looked at him and then back into the camera, her face jolting slightly forward with every thrust.
"Rachel says: 'WTF is going on, is this real?' Bryce says: 'You OK?' A whole bunch of other texts here. Several missed calls. You have a few from your dad, it looks like. Want to chat with him? I can give him a call back. Hopefully he's not actually watching. That would be fucked up, wouldn't it?"
A new wave of dread hit Kattie in the stomach. Just when she thought she could not go any lower.
Daniel was already calling. She could hear the ring. She hoped he wouldn't answer. But then there was his voice.
"Kattie? What the fuck is going on? Where are you?"
She couldn't say anything. Finally Daniel spoke.
"I'm afraid your isn't who you thought she was, Mr. Duval. She's got a stranger's cock in her ass right now. He's about the 50th guy to rawdog her tonight. I've honestly quit counting."
"You of a fucking bitch. If I didn't live on the other side of the country I'd have my hands around your throat right now."
"There's no need to get so angry at me. I'm just fulfilling your 's wishes. She asked us to do this, believe it or not. Are you watching the livestream right now? You can see we're treating her just the way she wants to be treated."
"Fuck you."
"Here Kattie, say hi to dad. Tell him you love strangers' cock in your ass."
He held the camera to her mouth. She froze up.
"Go ahead. There's video evidence, hon. He'll know either way."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, as if he thought that somehow a denial from her could erase the evidence of things he'd already seen.
She heard the sound of the guy behind her's thighs and pelvis slapping against her ass, filling the room. She just wanted to get it over with.
"I love having strangers' cocks in my ass, dad."
A long pause, then she heard the beep that signified the call had ended on the other side. But she didn't have time to dwell on it. The guy behind her was depositing a load in her rectum - she could feel the hot cum sliding deeper down into her angled-upward ass. Another was already replacing him. The faces surrounding her were anonymous to her, a teeming wall of giddy onlookers, pitiless, remorseless. Some with their faces covered in crude masks, nylon pantyhose or ski masks, to hide their identities from the camera. The new cock in her ass was larger than the one before, filling her body with the searing pain, bad and good, of the stretch. Its owner drilled into her enthusiastically, rapidly, shunting her whole body forward with each violent thrust. Her head bobbed toward the leering crowd time and again, the faces laughing or sneering, drinking beer and filming on their phones. The camera was still right in her face, capturing each wince and contortion she gave, the watering gaze of her eyes unable to avoid the lens for long, the gaze returned by a million unseen remote pairs of eyes.
The brief period of one on ones ended with her anal batterer. There were simply too many impatient men, whipped into a frenzy by the explicit spectacle before them. Another wave of cocks, stuffed into her in increasingly vulgar and colorful ways, the positions and mechanics dictated at times by Daniel or his henchmen, seemingly designed to display her body being fucked in the widest variety of ways, like they were checking off boxes on a list, striving to document her exposure in every form ever presented in porn.
She snorted more poppers and time slipped into another haze, aided now too by occasional sips of tequila and even a bump of cocaine presented to her on the head of an engorged cock. Anything to keep her going. Twenty more cocks now since the phone call? Thirty? She didn't know. She only knew that the number didn't even matter anymore. Surely any consequence that could possibly be afflicted on her body was already there. Pregnancy, disease. What difference did 30 bare dicks inside her make versus 60, or 100, or whatever the fuck number she would end at before this night was over?
They fucked her like a ragdoll, tossing her this way and that, pushing and stretching her body to the limits of physicality. She laid on her back atop some black Adonis with a cock thick as a Coke can and twice as long, his dick buried to the hilt in her rectum, while he gripped her under her knees and held her legs spread open as wide as they could go, showcasing for the room her pussy raw and wet and parted slightly above his python in her ass. Through the slight gape of her cunt you could see where the cock in her ass distended the inner wall of her vagina, making it bulge out toward the opening. Her cunt looked so empty in contrast to the stuffed asshole, begging for a double penetration which was soon provided. Any way someone wanted her they could have her. Soon they were trying double pussy penetration, Kattie on all fours huffing and drawing breath in ragged, short bursts as a man lying beneath her and one kneeling behind her both strained to get their cocks inside the single, strained rim of her pussy hole. At this feat, Kattie felt panic again for the first time in a couple hours. She thought surely her pussy would rip before these brutes accomplished their thoughtless goal. She was wrong, however, and suddenly with a pop the wet lower frenulum of her pussy yielded and the two cocks were in her, pumping away carelessly, tightly hugged to one another by the restriction of her single hole. Her vaginal opening seemed to have just permanently stretched to accommodate this type of violation, for three other pairs of men followed in suit one after the other with much greater ease than the first pair had had.
More cocks, more cum. She had learned to enjoy the taste of it, perhaps as a survival mechanism, or perhaps just because of the complete suppression of her disgust reflex that her shocking level of horniness brought. She found herself back in the throes of it now, riding the high of both the drugs and the natural high that this insane situation clouded her brain with. She stuck her tongue out eagerly as hot, bitter loads of cum landed on it again and again, gently rubbing her tongue against the roof of her mouth, pushing it in and out against her top lip, coating the surface of her tongue in the cum, making a filthy show of it, seemingly determined to demonstrate what a nasty she was after all.
She was caught in the cycle, fluctuating from one extreme to the other. From abject horror and humiliation to pure lust and back, within the course of an hour. But the periods of pure shame were shortening and becoming more rare. The lust was taking over. She would sometimes see herself on the screen and it would seem like an out of body experience. She would want the nasty slut on the screen to get gang fucked and sullied and ruined as much as any of the men present. The humiliation caused arousal, which caused further humiliation that such a thing would arouse her, and this built up in a vicious, self-fueling circle that now had her visibly engorged clit humming like a live wire - like a raw, exposed nerve of pure pleasure. Every time someone even bumped into it an electric orgasm ripped through her body, radiating out in warm, flashing pulses of tingles from her clit., flashing pulses of tingles from her clit.
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