Punish Me, Please Me

by Ashley Zacharias

  She had nothing to occupy her time for the hour but to think. Her thoughts were unexpectedly happy. The sobriquet bestowed on her by the anal expert was apt. She let strange men fuck her in every orifice. She didn’t know their names or anything about them. Master Exeter could send a constant stream of men to her room and she would allow them to use her for any sexual purpose they wished and she would be happy about it. How could she be considered anything but a slut?

  The longer the dildo remained in her ass, the more strenuously her sphincter muscles protested. Discomfort was growing into pain. She didn’t care. She aspired to be the sluttiest middle school teacher in all Los Angeles. That was worth a little pain in the ass. If only her principal could see her now. He’d be disgusted. And he’d fall to his knees and beg to be permitted to join the line of men who were waiting to use her. Celine had seen the spark of interest in his eye before and knew that she could fan that spark into an inferno of lust any time she wanted. There’s no way on earth his prissy wife would let herself be used like this. No way she would ever spend an hour with a dildo up her ass for the sole purpose of making it more accommodating for her husband’s use. Celine could break up her marriage, wreck her home, devastate her just by leaning close to her husband, looking him in the eye, and whispering, “I’ll let you fuck me any way you want, any time you want.” If she said it, she would mean it. Literally. Any way he wanted, as often as he wanted. Two days ago, her sex life was mostly fantasy. Today, total promiscuity was her reality. She knew that she would do anything to please a man and that knowledge was power. The superpower of Superslut. She should buy a tee-shirt with an S in a triangle on the chest. Any man who saw her would know instinctively what her superpower was and would prostrate himself in awe before her.

  The door opened.

  Celine felt hands untie the knots at her knees and unwrap the ropes from her legs. “Okay. Let’s get you out of that chair and get that dildo out of your ass. It’s time you got ready for the real thing.”

  Celine was reminded that, though this man had been working on her asshole all morning, she was still technically an anal virgin. She had not yet done it all.

  The man left her hands cuffed behind her back. “They want me to secure you for penetration. I don’t recommend it but Master Exeter gets what Master Exeter wants. You’re loose enough now that he can do almost anything he wants and you won’t be injured. Stand up, Slut.”

  As Celine stood up, the dildo slipped out of her lose anus and stayed on the seat of the chair.

  “That’s right. Now you come with me.” His now-familiar grip on her upper arm guided her to the bathroom. “You sit there and evacuate your bowels as best as you can. You probably feel like your bowel is full, but that’s just the residual stimulation from the dildo. I doubt that you’ll actually be able to expel much except for the little stool that was loosened by the lubricant. Stay there until I get back.”

  Celine sat blindfolded on the toilet for a few minutes while she listened to the man rummaging around the hotel room. She guessed that he was cleaning up the plastic and putting his supplies away. Or getting out more supplies for the next phase of her training. She could not guess what was coming next. He had implied that it would be a real man, but he had also talked about getting her ready.

  When he came back, he said, “All ready now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Stand up. Turn around. Bend over nice, now.”

  She felt a wad of toilet paper wiping her ass clean. Having someone else wipe her ass was the most humiliating experience of the morning. Paul had said that she would experience intense humiliation, but, up to this point, she had not felt particularly humiliated. The anal expert was so professional and matter-of-a-fact about everything that she felt more like a doctor’s patient than a sexual slave.

  That aspect had been somewhat disappointing.

  The man flushed the toilet and then led her back out of the bathroom. “Stand here and bend over as far as you can.”

  Celine felt herself bending over the back of the wooden chair, her head nearing the seat where she had recently spent an hour sitting on a dildo.

  “Move your foot forward, past the leg of the chair. That’s right, Now the other one. That’s right. Lean forward, keep your balance. Good.” Straddling the back of the chair with her knees pressed into the sides and her head bent as far forward as she could, her ass was stuck high and opened wide. The soft rope was wrapped quickly around her right ankle, threaded through the chair legs, up the front of the chair, under her arms and across her back and then down and through to wrap around her other ankle. She was left tied to the chair with no way to move, no way to raise her head or close her legs. She was already feeling discomfort at the pressure points on the sides of her knees and against her stomach.

  “We’ll get you lubed up again.”

  Celine heard the snap of a rubber glove again, then the cold smear of more jelly into her exposed anus. “There you go. I hope you enjoy your second deflowering.” A minute later, she heard the door close. She was left alone to anticipate her imminent sodomization. She felt like she had been prepared as well as was humanly possible, but she still hoped that Master Exeter would be gentle.

  She did not have to wait for long, which was merciful because her back was beginning to ache something terrible after only a couple of minutes.

  The door opened, someone entered and unzipped their pants. There was a long pause and Celine wondered if something was wrong. Then a cock was unceremoniously shoved into her asshole. It felt bigger than the dildo but that might be only because she had had time to work the dildo in slowly and had not had to take the whole length in a single stroke. She was glad that she had been well-prepped for this because she would have been torn wide open if she had not already been properly stretched. She could not tell if the man was wearing a rubber or not. Maybe an experienced anal slut would be able to feel the difference between latex and skin inside her asshole, but she had not yet acquired that degree of expertise.

  The man pumped into her only a few times before she felt his cock pulsing in orgasm. The man was silent when he came. It felt like an entirely different experience than when Master Exeter had made love to her on the bed the day before. She began to doubt that this was the same man and wondered who was fucking her in the ass. Not the anal expert, he would have taken far more care with her deflowering. Was this Paul, the valet? Either it was him or it was a total stranger. She preferred to think that it was a handsome, heartless stranger rather than the homely, stumpy young valet.

  The man left the room without releasing her from the chair. Her lower back was wrenched with agony. She began to whimper in pain. This was worse than being spanked with the leather strap.

  It may have been only minutes, but felt like hours before the door opened again. She squealed, “My back is breaking. Please let me stand up. I can’t take any more of this.”

  The man who had entered – Paul? Exeter? Anal Expert? A stranger? – said nothing but he knelt down and immediately untied her ankles. The knots must have been pulled tight because it took him a minute to get her loose. He left the rope tied to one ankle while he moved her to the bed and pushed her face to the mattress. She lay limp and unresisting as he stretched her legs apart and re-tied her other ankle. He had passed the rope under the bed so that she could not close her legs, turn over, or move off the bed.

  She was so relieved that her back was no longer bent over the chair that she didn’t mind having her legs tied wide open.

  Fingers rubbed more lubricant into her asshole, and then the second man penetrated her. This one was slower and more considerate than the first man. He worked his cock in deeper and deeper with each stroke until the weight of his hips was resting on her buttocks and his cock was buried as deeply in her bowel as it could reach. This man spent a long time, many minutes, working himself around inside her, not only in and out, but side to side. When he finally came, she felt like her sewer pipe had been royally rotoroot
ered. She was sore from the stretching but it was not as bad as she would have expected.

  This man left without untying her or releasing her hands from the cuffs behind her back. After a time, being unable to close her legs gave her an oppressive feeling.

  She was left like that for a long time, long enough that her hunger became her most salient sensation. She had not eaten since nibbling the lean steak and dry salad last night, almost twenty hours earlier by her best guess. Was Master Exeter forcing her onto a starvation diet? She would admit to being somewhat plumper than the racks-of-bones that strutted down Paris catwalks, but she was far from obese. Her doctor considered her weight to be within the healthy range. Maybe he liked the famine chic look and starved his slaves to the edge of anorexia. If he tried that with her, he’d be getting the red light before long.

  * * *

  “Untie yourself.”

  Had she been napping? Paul’s voice caught her unawares. She processed his words slowly. Untie herself? How could she do that when she was lying face down, blindfolded, with her hands cuffed behind her back?

  She thought about the geometry of her body for a minute, then the penny dropped. She hadn’t had to lie here, face down on the bed, blindfolded, with her hands cuffed behind her back for hours. All she had to do was raise herself up on her knees and her hands would easily reach the knots on her ankles. She bunched up her body, got the weight of her hips over her feet, and then raised herself upright and leaned slightly backward. She fumbled blindly with the knot on her right ankle for a long time. It was too tight. She must have been napping because her brain was foggy. She switched to her left ankle and managed to untie that knot. It was much looser.

  Now she was free to get off the bed. Her shoulders were aching from having her hands cuffed behind her back for so many hours. If only she could unlock her handcuffs.

  Another penny dropped. She was no rocket scientist toady. There was no collar around her neck, had not been since the anal expert had unbuckled it. It had to be lying somewhere in the room. She had been blindfolded since morning so she had not seen where he had left it.

  Think, Celine. Think hard.

  He had unlocked her handcuffs when she had been kneeling on the plastic in the middle of the floor. Where would he have put the collar afterward? The desk was the closest surface so she tried that first, walking carefully until she bumped the wall, then following it until her thigh struck the edge of the desk. She turned around to press her butt against it and fumbled across the surface with her fingers. She soon felt the thick leather strap. Grabbing the key firmly with her right fingers, she bent her wrist and fiddled around until she managed to get the key inserted in the left cuff.

  Twist, click, and the ratchet released.

  She reached up behind her head and unbuckled the blindfold. Glare from the setting sun blinded her dark-adapted eyes. She squeezed them tight, turned away, and began slowly opening them again, this time a mere crack at a time, forcing them to adapt to the light. It seemed to take forever before she could see properly. Finally, she could see Paul sitting in one of the easy chairs by the window.

  “Aren’t you hungry? I expected that you would have been cleaned up and waiting to go out to dinner by now. You must like being tied down on the bed because you left yourself there for so long. I’m going to have to tell Master Exeter how much you’d rather be tied up than eat. I’m sure that he’ll accommodate you with a lot more of the same.” He was laughing.

  “No thank you,” she replied formally.

  “No need to thank me. Get yourself showered and dressed for dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Celine unlocked the cuff from her other wrist, then untied the remaining rope from her right ankle. She piled all the bondage equipment on the desk and then showered. In the shower, she fingered her asshole gingerly. It felt loose and slippery. She cleaned it well, inside and out.

  She took the time to blow dry her hair before coming back to find clothes laid out on the bed. It seemed that she was to be permitted panties and a bra underneath her skirt and blouse. Her feet would be comfortable in her Rockport walking shoes. She cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

  “You’ve had difficult sessions yesterday and today. Tonight you relax. Nothing bad will be done to you. The life of a sex slave should not be a life of endless suffering. It should be a life that you want to embrace.”

  Paul let her treat him to a dinner in an Italian restaurant across the strip at the Bellagio’s casino. She was allowed to eat anything she desired. With cutlery.

  After she paid the bill, they went to Cirque du Soleil’s “Zumanity” show. He told her that he’d purchased the tickets on her credit card yesterday. “Hope you don’t mind me signing for you.” He gave her a credit card receipt for three hundred dollars for the two tickets.

  She minded him stealing the money from her but told herself that if she were spending her vacation in Las Vegas, she should see at least one high-end show and you couldn’t do better than Cirque du Soleil; they always staged a terrific performance.

  Of all the Cirque’s Las Vegas shows, “Zumanity” was the only one that was frankly erotic, featuring fetish costumes, a fair amount of nudity, and assorted stylized simulations of sexual acts.

  Celine tried to imagine herself as a lithe, limber women in a costume that simulated lingerie, dancing gracefully across the stage and ascending into the air on a trapeze. It was a silly exercise. That was not the way a sex slave entertained a man. She entertained her men by allowing herself to be stripped naked and tied bent over a chair and letting her asshole be fucked by strangers.

  There was nothing pretend about her sex-slave performance. No fake sex. No stylized simulations. She gave her men the real thing.

  That was all that was required. She was a sex slave already.

  She looked at the handsome, muscular, nearly naked man carrying a half-dressed woman across the stage on one upstretched arm and knew in the most visceral way that she would rather be sucking his cock than balancing on his palm.

  Then she looked at the dumpy, paunchy, young man sitting next to her and decided that she wanted to be used again, tonight. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Tonight, I need to fall asleep with the taste of a man’s cum in my mouth. Tie me to the bed, send a man to my room to fuck my mouth, and leave me there until morning. Don’t let me go to the bathroom to spit out the cum, brush my teeth, or wash out my mouth.”

  She leaned back and looked down at Paul’s crotch. His pants were bulging, an enormous erection straining underneath his zipper. She looked at his face. He was grimacing in discomfort. She watched him squirm in his seat, trying unsuccessfully to jostle his cock into a less-painful position.

  She giggled in delight.

  A few minutes later, when Paul’s breathing returned to normal, she glanced down and saw that the bulge in his pants was shrinking so she leaned over again and said, “I want the man to be sure that he comes all over my tongue, not just in the back of my throat, but in the front, down the middle and over both sides so that I cannot escape the taste. He has to make me lick up every drop that comes out of him.”

  Paul’s cock sprang back upright as though it were connected to strings being jerked hard by an invisible puppeteer. He began squirming around in his seat again.

  Celine had not had such fun in ages.

  She watched his crotch and, a few minutes later when he again began to subside, leaned over and whispered, “After he comes in my mouth, I want the man to force me to open my mouth to show him the cum in there and then swish it around like a wine connoisseur, appreciating the fine subtleties of the vintage. If he doesn’t think that I’ve tasted the his cum thoroughly enough, then he can punish my ass with the leather paddle and make me suck him off all over again.”

  She could see a small damp patch appearing on the front of Paul’s pants where the tip of his cock was straining against the fabric. She laughed out loud.

  And, a few minutes after that, s
he leaned over and said, “Tell him that he has my permission punish me with a long hard spanking if my blow job doesn’t absolutely delight him. Tell him that if he does not receive the best blow job of his life tonight, he has a duty to make me deeply regret not trying hard enough.”

  Paul’s face shone bright red in the light reflected from the stage. He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

  A few minutes later, she whispered, “I’m going to hate what happens to me tonight. You know that, don’t you? I’m going to absolutely hate it. But some man is going to love it just as much as I’m going to hate it.”

  Tears began to slide down Paul’s face. The erotic circus on stage was approaching its finale, but it was not the most sexual thing that Paul was experiencing tonight. Not by a long shot.

  Celine felt her superpower over men growing and her own seat was getting wet under her crotch. She was going to hate having to spend the night tied to the bed with a man’s cum coating her tongue, probably with a bruised and aching butt as well, but the idea also excited her more than anything in Los Angeles had excited her in a long time. Making Paul suffer through half the show was deeply satisfying, but the cost was to be forced to give him the best blowjob she could, no matter how she felt about him. The anticipation of her ordeal held its own charm.

  As the stars of the show took their bows, Celine mentally took her own bow. They had staged a marvelous performance but she had been able to drive one of the men in this room to heights of horniness that the performers could barely imagine. She delighted herself with her newfound power.

  Paul rushed her back to her room so quickly that he as almost jogging.

  She had to suppress her laughter all the way back.

  As soon as they were inside, her laughter came to an abrupt end. There was no humor in his voice when he ordered her to strip off her clothes and prepare for bed. When she came out of the bathroom, she found him waiting with the length of rope that had been left by the ass expert. “Hold out your hands in front of you.”