by Rachel Nixx
The shoes. If I concentrated on memorizing those shoes, I would get through this. They were solid, real, in front of me. Something of the regular world. Something I saw on an everyday basis. Just shoes.
The crowd in front of me parted. I watched the shuffling legs, and the brown wingtips moved to the side.
“How do you find her?” asked Jake.
A chorus of yes and very nice and words I didn’t understand filled the air.
“Good, good. Do you see, though, how distracted she is?”
I wasn’t! How could I be distracted? As Jake said the words, I felt someone’s hand behind me cover my pussy, cupping it warmly. One small finger—a woman’s?--slid into me just the slightest bit. Maybe only half-an-inch, but with how rigid my clit was, I almost came apart. I found the wingtips, just to my left, and studied them with concentration.
“Do you see how she focuses on Marco’s shoes?”
Murmurs of assent.
“I think she’s too focused on them. That’s not what a whore should be focused on. A whore should be focused on only one thing—making the people around her happy. Marco, what would make you happy?”
Marco said something I couldn’t understand. The crowd responded with a communal bark of laughter and the sound of assent.
“That’s what I was hoping you would say. Give her your shoe, Marco.”
Fingers reached down and untied the lace on the left shoe. Damn. Would he hit me with it? Where? Would it smack as hard as the flat palm that had just struck my back thigh?
But instead, Jake took the shoe in his hands and crouched in front of the chair I was still bent over. He held the wingtip in front of me. “You see this dust, whore?”
I nodded quickly.
“Make it shine.”
He didn’t mean...oh, God. He did. He wanted me to use my tongue on that shoe? The piece of leather that had undoubtedly been stomping who knew where for God knew how long? My mouth?
And even as I recoiled, feeling a surge of nausea, I was also drawn forward. My tongue, almost of its own volition, darted out of my mouth, toward the shoe.
“Good slut,” said Jake in the same tone he used when he praised my skill at liar’s dice in our bar. “Taste it now.”
I hesitated again, an inch away from the leather.
“Taste it now or I push it into your mouth the same way I shoved my cock in.”
A strong twist of my right nipple had me gasping and reeling forward, giving the shoe one long lick. The hands touching me grew more assertive, as if watching me humiliated like this gave them additional license.
“More,” encouraged Jake, holding the shoe directly in front of my nose.
I pulled back the slightest bit, and I knew Jake felt it. “You can do it,” he said, and I remembered a time perhaps five years before. We’d been in the bar for hours with a large group of friends. They’d been drinking all night, and they were all singing along to the jukebox, but I’d been drinking hot tea because I’d had a cold. Jake had been nursing the same beer all night, and I’d caught him giving me the look that confused me so much when I’d caught his eye unexpectedly.
“What?” I’d said.
“Nothing,” Jake said, moving his glass in a small circle on the table top.
“No, what?” He couldn’t be interested. Not now. Jesus, I’d just gotten together with someone, a nice guy who liked me, a guy I was meeting later in the evening when he got off his hospital rotation. Of course, I hadn’t missed the irony that as soon as I’d become serious with someone, Jake had finally broken up with his girlfriend of three years, the woman who’d prevented me from ever making a move.
“I was just wondering if he’s enough for you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Steve? What do you mean?”
“Is he man enough to satisfy you?”
I laughed. “I’m not talking about my sex life with you.”
Jake didn’t smile. “So he’s not.”
I glanced to my left. All our friends were done singing and were busy shouting something about how Wendy had cheated at dice. “He’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, he’s great.”
“Is he man enough to keep you in line?”
I should have laughed at such a ridiculous statement. I should have instantly said, No man can keep me in line. That was the truth, after all. Wasn’t it? I took care of myself. Hell, I’d taken care of the last three men I’d dated, giving way more than I received, and that had been fine. Up to a point. At my gym, if a student came at me wrong, with a poor intention or inflated ego, I used the opportunity to correct them. I wasn’t always gentle. It had been something my last boyfriend had complained about, actually. “You never let me be the man.” I hadn’t understood what he meant. When we had sex, he liked me to be on top. He’d told me that a hundred times. He liked the way I took charge of where we ate, what we did, when we fucked. My new boyfriend reminded me of my ex, actually, in the way he deferred to what I wanted. I liked that in a man. “A considerate man is something all women look for.”
Jake only gave a nod. His smoky gray eyes had lifted to the blinking neon in the window over my head, and I’d had the feeling I’d disappointed him. I didn’t know how.
Now, though, as he held the sole of the shoe to me, as if it were a gift, I knew one thing: I wasn’t disappointing him. The glow in his eyes, the genuine smile on his face, told me he was proud of me.
Using my tongue, carefully keeping my lips from touching the shoe, I licked along a seam. The taste, surprisingly, wasn’t unpleasant—dust mixed with the warm smell of old polish. I ran my tongue along the heel and then to the toe. I made sure I wetted every part of the upper, laving it (eagerly now, I was shocked to realize) as Jake twisted it in front of me. My hands stayed perfectly still and flat on the seat of the chair. I think if someone had wrapped their arms around me and tried to carry me away, I would have fought them, just to keep my hands flat. It was important, as important as the job I was doing on Marco’s shoe.
“That’s my good girl.”
I was right. He was proud of me, proud that I was here, proud that he could show me off, proud that I could take the crowd of eyes staring, the fingers touching. His gaze was like a kiss, one I’d been waiting years to receive.
I licked the shoe again, the same direction, cleaning it harder now. Thank god he wasn’t making me lick the sole. I’d make this fucking rest of this thing shine for him, using only spit for polish.
Behind me, another small finger—it had to be a woman’s—gently touched my asshole. I gasped and choked for a minute on the juices in my mouth. The finger tested me for just a second, pushing at my tight door before retreating, to my vast relief. I’d never done anal, had never let a man I loved touch me there, let alone a stranger I couldn’t see. I’d told Jake I could take just about anything, would try to do all of this, to see it through to the end. Just not that end, I hoped. I took a deep breath and finished cleaning the sole.
Jake said in my ear, low enough that only I could hear, “You’re devastating.”
The heat of my pride filled me so fast I felt sweat break at my brow.
He stood, holding the shoe above his head. “Look, friends! Isn’t she a good whore?’
Shouts greeted him.
“She probably deserves a reward, doesn’t she?”
More assent came from the crowd.
“And with such a good mouth, I think there’s really only thing to give her, am I right? Shall we show her our favorite game?”
There was a shuffling as the crowd rearranged itself. Something was happening, something I didn’t understand, but it was obviously something they did here, that they knew to do. The few women moved to stand behind me as the men came forward, to flank themselves around Jake.
And as if choreographed, the men all opened their flies, taking their cocks into their hands. Jake’s cock was as huge as it had been when he’d put it away earlier. This time I knew enough to open my mouth as wide as I could before he even put
the tip in. I was greedy for it now. I wanted to swallow all of it, all of him.
He slid down my throat, and I waited for my gag reflex to calm, less scared now that I knew it would. He rammed into my mouth, taking long, steady strokes. He knew I wasn’t going anywhere. He knew I was here for him, and the feeling of elation that flooded me made me believe I could take all of him. So I did, my nose hitting his pubic bone as he pushed down my throat. I breathed like I was swimming—breath, stroke, breath, stroke—and found a rhythm that matched his. Keeping my eyes open, I gazed up at him. Instead of keeping his head back, grunting at the ceiling as past men I’d been with had done, he kept his eyes down, looking at me. He put his hand on top of my head, not using it to pull me forward—he didn’t have to. Instead he kept it there, a welcome, heavy warmth.
To either side of me, men were getting close to coming. They pulled and jerked and brought their cocks as close to me as possible. In the process, several of them whacked each other. Instead of jumping away, they didn’t seem to notice or mind. Knuckles rubbed against knuckles as the members battled for space, and my ears were full of the sound of busy flesh.
In my mouth, Jake was getting harder, ramming the back of my throat harder. He groaned above me but when I looked up, he still had his gray eyes fixed on mine.
I needed to taste him. I needed him to come in my mouth, to flood my throat. I shifted my tongue, pressing it down into the base of my mouth to give him even more room.
As if they’d practiced it (and maybe, I realized, they had), all the men seemed to get closer to relief. Their moans were louder, their breathing faster now. Slaps of flesh and groaning drowned out the classical music again. I heard the women whisper to each other, small satisfied chuckles. I wished for a moment I was one of them, watching a girl get her mouth fucked while her man got ready to come on her face.
Then I realized that it was a million times better to be the girl at the center of this cock attention.
Jake shifted his hand to the back of my neck, and even though I thought I couldn’t deep throat him any more than I already was, he pushed into me harder. I could barely breathe now, and I saw dancing white lights at the edges of my vision. As his movement stuttered, as his muscles contracted, I heard him say gutturally, “Now.”
As he shot his hot load onto the back of my throat, as he pulled me toward him and held me there, cutting off my breath even more, I felt again that pressure at my ass. Something cold and liquid dripped on me, and then before I could pull away, a slim, very cold object was shoved in my asshole. Even though I could tell it wasn’t very big, it still hurt like hell, tearing at a place that had never been touched before. The cold pain behind me combined with the hot, salty come in my mouth, and at that moment the other men started to spurt, as if they’d just been waiting for Jake to give them permission. I felt come hit my cheeks, my hair, my exposed neck, my breasts. I closed my eyes for a moment as one man aimed for my temple and jerked his cock up, milking it six, seven times. The smell of come filled my nose, and I pulled away from Jake long enough to take in a choked breath, to push back those dancing white lights. Then I deep-throated him again, his own liquids lubricating my now-open throat.
Above me, he laughed in what sounded like complete joy. Even though I was consumed by the pain at my asshole, I felt something cold at the base of my spine, and the sound of a chain rattled. As the last remaining men came on me, raining thick white streams onto my skin, the small red-haired woman who had been staring at me earlier came forward, the chain in her hand. She gave it to Jake, who slid out of my mouth unceremoniously. I remained forward over the chair, gasping, pulling in breath, closing my lips as Zee shot his load directly at my mouth.
Jake said, “Oh, my whore, you are covered in come. You’re dripping.”
It wasn’t the only place I was dripping. Even with the fire in my ass (now easing a bit as I breathed into it), I could feel my pussy was inflamed and as wet as my face.
“You deserve such a reward, whore.” And with that, Jake tugged the chain.
I toppled forward, folding at my stomach over the top of the chair. The chain was directly connected to the steel hook in my ass. As he pulled, I would have followed him anywhere, if I hadn’t been hobbled at the ankles, if I hadn’t been stuck where I was. My hands, though, I hoped he’d be pleased to note, still hadn’t slipped on the seat of the chair. Even though the pain was intense as he teased and tugged on the chain, I kept my hands in place. He’d told me not to move them, and I would make him proud.
“Stand, my little slut,” said Jake.
I did, stretching my back as I did so. The man nearest me was standing stock-still, openmouthed, staring at me. With one leg swipe, I could have brought him down. Just imagining doing it made me feel better.
Standing seem to drive the anal hook farther in and even though I clenched and relaxed, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being stretched, inside and out. Come dripped from both my nipples and I started shaking as if I were freezing, though I wasn’t. I was hot as hell.
Around me, most of the men had lost interest in me completely. They backed away, zipping their flies, chatting as if they were in a cafe, drifting back to their cards. They’d just come on a whore, and now they were going to have another drink.
My cheeks flamed as much as my ass did.
Jake slid the chair to the side so that I was facing him. He still held the chain. He affixed it to the back of my collar and tightened it somehow, so that when he pulled on my leash at the front of my collar, the hook in my ass behind me went in deeper. He tested it twice, and seemed satisfied by my gasps. The woman handed Jake two more thin chains. He affixed them to the front of my collar, then draped them toward my breasts. The nipple clamps came out from his pocket, and I silenced the inner groan I felt. My poor nipples, sore to the very air, couldn’t take much more.
Maybe Jake could read the doubt on my face. “Can you take a little more playtime?”
I nodded.
“You can talk now. Tell me, Jess, did this satisfy your curiosity about yourself? Did you realize that you hate this, and that you’d rather go back to the hotel and call your boyfriend? Tell him what to do?’
Frowning, I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. And besides, I’d broken up with my boyfriend the week before we left. I just hadn’t told Jake.
“Because I can do that. Take you back. This can be the end. Tomorrow we can go to the natural history museum. Or we could go eat crepes. You can take pictures to show your guy what he’s missing. And honestly, Jess. That would be more than fine. I’m proud of what you did today.”
I could hear it in his voice. This was my friend, the Jake I knew. I could choose to go back to the hotel, and if I wanted to pretend none of this had ever happened, he would go along with it. We’d go back to exactly the way we’d always been. I’d keep telling my boyfriends where I wanted to eat and how to make love to me.
“No,” I said, my voice scratchy from the earlier screams.
“No, what? You don’t want to eat crepes?”
“Fuck crepes. Take me further.”
Jake smiled and slid the nipple clamps on, affixing them with tiny carabiners to the smaller chains so that when he tugged the main chain which was connected to my leash, I was led not only by the searing pain in my nipples, but also from the steel hook in my ass.
“That’s my girl,” he said. Using a handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket, he wiped my face clean, using long, gentle strokes. He blew on my nipples, and the coolness helped for a split second. Then, to my utmost surprise, he kissed me. Full on the mouth, he kissed me. His tongue was sweet, and none of the times I’d ever imagined kissing him came close to how good it was in reality. As we kissed, mouths meeting each other and raising each other in our own form of gambling, I felt myself get even wetter.
Jesus, I wasn’t going to be able to keep a poker face now. I’d fallen for him a long time ago. But now it was real.
Chapter Three - Fucked in Public
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br /> The crimson-haired woman came with us. I found her face fascinating—thin, with a pointed nose, she should have been unattractive, but her wide set blue eyes made her look like a beautiful goth pixie. Her name was Olya, Jake said, and she was apprenticing for employment at Fantasy Fulfilled.
“Like an intern?” I asked. As we walked through the streets to Jake’s car, I’d been told I could speak freely, and my curiosity was sharp now. “Do you get pain? Oh, God, I meant paid. Do you get paid?”
Olya shook her head and took the keys Jake offered her. She hit the button that unlocked the doors on the Mercedes SUV. “No money.”
“Someday she’ll be paid,” said Jake. “For now, she’s learning.”
“So, like college?” I asked.
Jake helped me into the back seat, careful not to pull the leash too hard. “Sit to one side, it’ll be easier on you.” He was being so nice to me, acting as if I weren’t stark raving naked except for my heels, as if I didn’t have a chain running from my ass to my neck, from my neck to my aching, tortured nipples. It felt odd. And good. I noticed Olya watching him carefully. Curiously. She seemed mildly amused by him, and I wasn’t sure why.
Sitting didn’t feel so great. Even sitting on one cheek, the butt plug was deep, and bending my knees seemed to drive it further in. At least they’d removed the leg shackles, and I could spread my legs out a little bit to ease the pressure.
“Yes. Like that. I went to college,” said Olya.
“You did?” I was surprised. She looked so young, as if she would be just starting to think about higher education, if anything. I would have pegged her to be no more than nineteen.
“I don’t hire anyone who doesn’t have a college degree,” said Jake. “Or anyone under twenty-one.”