I take a quick shower and have Pari rub my back with a gentle aloe essence to help the skin heal faster. I don’t have any wounds, but I don’t want to have to make sure my husband doesn’t see anything.
Paris’ gentle hands caress my back with practiced, circular movements. I know how hot she must be by now. Having Joel’s big cock in her mouth and seeing me get fucked hard has certainly not left her without a trace. I stretch her back and let her finish her work, then I turn to her on the chair and put my hand under her long skirt.
My hand strokes the inside of her leg. She immediately stands with her legs apart. I feel my way through her pussy to her wet center and stick my middle finger deep inside.
She is wet and hot.
I can see that she is trying not to moan or beg. She’s only allowed to come when I let her. Except for situations like yesterday, when I let others fuck her. She can come as often as she wants. That’s why she loves it so much. Her body trembles as I ram 3 fingers into her and push them deep inside.
“Do you want me to let my husband fuck you again today?” I ask.
“Yes, mistress,” she replies.
I didn’t ask to get an answer, but to hear her voice and how hard she is trying to control herself. Her voice trembles with excitement.
My fingers move inside her, and her pussy twitches with delight. She is so wet that I hear a smacking sound when I move my fingers faster. Pari gasps involuntarily, and I’m sure she doesn’t even register in her efforts not to orgasm. The agony must be delicious.
“Sit on the floor and show me that you can do better than the cunt down in the cellar.” Paris’ face beams with happiness.
I push again with my fingers and then slowly pull them out.
Pari immediately sits down on the floor and opens her thighs for me. Her pussy is wet and beautiful. She looks at me again questioningly, and I almost feel like telling her that I was only joking. But I have a good heart.
“Fuck you and come, Pari. Be quick, I don’t have forever to give you my attention.”
“Thank you,, Mistress.” She says it breathlessly, and 3 of her fingers disappear into the small-looking opening. She rams them in hard and fast, and as I bend over to push her knees out even more, her thighs start to tremble.
I push her hand aside and start rubbing two fingers quickly over her clit. She screams, and her pelvis comes towards me. The orgasm shakes her whole body, and when I touch her, she has completely lost control. She doesn’t care if she is punished or not because she speaks, or if I stop and leave her lying here on the floor like a trembling heap of desire.
“Yes, oh God, yes! Don’t stop! Oh please!” I take my other hand and put two fingers in her pussy.
I see Joel and Amir enter the bathroom and watch us with visible pleasure. I don’t think, that Pari is registering anything except her twitching pussy.
She is now lying there as if giving birth and moving her pelvis up and down. Her head has fallen back, and I don’t think she knows where she is. The twitching continues as I take my fingers out of her pussy and stand up. She covers her pussy with her right hand and continues to massage it. She doesn’t want it to stop. I let her enjoy it.
I am a generous mistress.
She can be eternally grateful to me.
Before I leave for home, we have coffee with Joel and Amir and discuss their task. The men enjoy working together, and it’s not the first time they’ve been allowed to let off steam. They also get to tell the whore what to expect tomorrow and maybe give her a little taste of what she has to endure. She has already drunk her own piss. If she finds out that it’s the men’s piss tomorrow, and how she’ll get to drink it, she might give up tonight.
Of course, she can watch the video of her boyfriend tonight to fall asleep. In full length.
I regret that I can’t be there. This time she has no reason to rage, scream, or want to talk to him. Tomorrow, the guys or I will make it clear to her that her boyfriend would rather fuck a dog than her, and that she will see for herself that he had much more fun sucking the dog’s cock than licking her pussy. That should work.
On the way home, I think back to the gropers in the subway and my school days. There were several girls there, like the cunt from my basement. Always too much money, the best clothes, and the latest cell phone. And it always bothered them that I ignored them and didn’t try to belong to their respective cliques. For me, that meant teasing, whispering behind my back, and giggling in the corridor when I walked past. There were also little letters with insulting content. I couldn’t allow them to make me look like a weak victim. I was by no means weak.
I couldn’t allow myself to take open action against them either. Not because they always appeared in groups. The principal threatened to suspend me if there was another violent incident, and that meant boring conversations with my outraged parents. No, thanks. Most of the time, I had my peace at school, but one girl in particular had it in for me because I stole a boy from her. I didn’t even want him, but she was being stupid, so I had to show her who was in charge. She wouldn’t let up, and she really got on my nerves. One day, I left her alone in the toilet and pressed her against the wall.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to pay someone to hurt you. He will rape you with a baseball bat and put the photos on the internet. I just want you to know,” I said to her and left the bathroom.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I will pay someone to hurt you. He’ll rape you with a baseball bat and post the photos on the internet. I just want you to know,” I said to her and left the bathroom.
Of course, I didn’t have the opportunity or the means to do it, but she didn’t know that. I was considered pretty crazy, and nobody knew what I was really capable of. She didn’t dare go to the principal because she had no witnesses this time. So she went to her brother. After school, he intercepted me in the stairwell and tried to push me into a corner to threaten me. He was two years older than us and quite strong.
“Who do you think you are?” He hissed at me and walked towards me threateningly, so that I had to move into the corner. I stood still. He thought carefully about his angry speech, but not about my reaction. Would he hit me? How? Should I fight back? His chest bounced against mine, and I was pushed backward against the wall.
That was the moment I knew I wasn’t going to fight back. He went after me, and I took my hands, which I had instinctively held out in front of my body in a defensive gesture. I was hot. “Come,” I said, looking him in the face. He tried to stop his movement, but I moved towards him until our bodies were touching again.
The anger on his face didn’t disappear, but there was something else. Confusion; complete confusion, and greed! He must have just realized that he wanted to punish me, but not in the way he had intended. I opened my lips and looked him in the face. Furious, he pushed himself off the wall behind me and ran down the stairs.
I guess this round went to me.
But the game wasn’t over yet.
When I parked the bike in my garage later that evening, I realized that I wasn’t alone.
My friend from the stairwell had organized reinforcements. So his anger was stronger than the embarrassment of running away from me.
“My friend here says you threatened his sister,” said his companion. He was a tall man, around 30, I thought at the time. But estimating age was not my strong point. I looked at him closely. My parents weren’t there yet, and they seemed to know that. The garage door had already closed. While I saw anger in the younger one’s eyes, I saw something else in the other one’s eyes that I knew well. I smiled at him.
“So it seems funny to you?” He said it threateningly, coming towards me. “You were going to have her raped?” I looked him in the eye and still didn’t say anything. I hoped it made him angry. I imagined what he might do then.
“How would you like to be raped.” I looked at the younger man and saw a slight doubt in his still-angry expression.
“Oh, fuck you,” I said, bored, and turned to leave. That’s exactly what made him move, he was at me in one jump, grabbed me by the arm, and turned me around. Pressing me against my father’s workbench, he grabbed my breast.
“How does that feel?” I licked my lips. The slight surprise on his face slowly turned to lust.
“Look at her,” he said, turning to his buddy, who no longer looked so confident and angry. “The little whore wants it.” He groped my breasts, and the boy looked down in shame. I looked down at his big hand clawing into my chest and pressed my hands against his chest to push him away. I might as well have tried to push the wall of the garage away. He was massive, and he was horny.
He turned me around with my back to him and pressed me further against the workbench as he started to undo my pants. His hand went hard into my jeans, and he felt my pussy through the panties.
“Fuck!” I heard him moan as I pressed my butt against his erection. “You whore want it!” he hissed in my ear and started to tug my jeans down. I couldn’t see the other one. Then he pulled my pants and underpants down to my knees, and I felt the fabric of his pants against my bottom as he pressed himself against me.
“Do you like that? Do you want that whore?” He hissed at me and slammed his erection against my buttocks a few times.
“You talk too much, old man,” I said as contemptuously as I could. I really wanted him to stop talking at last. I was wet and wanted to be fucked. By a man, not a boy. He should fucking stop talking. I heard the zipper of his pants and thought it was time to put up a bit of a fight. I started to wriggle half-heartedly, and my pants slipped down even further. When I felt his hot cock between my legs, I stopped resisting.
He grabbed me by the hips and bent me over the workbench. I couldn’t wait. His cock slid into my wet pussy like it was buttered up.
“You’re all wet for me.” This time, there was surprise in his voice.
“Yes,” I said so quietly that only he could hear. He started to move, and I started to moan. He fucked me hard because he couldn’t help it. I tried not to sound too enthusiastic so that the boy behind me wouldn’t notice that I liked it.
A few pangs of conscience should do him good. The man’s hand reached around me, and he grabbed my clit. I spread my legs even wider and came towards him with my ass.
“Come for me, little whore, come for me,” he whispered in my ear, and a wonderful orgasm poured over me.
I didn’t want him to stop pumping, but he was too hot to stop his own orgasm.
He shot into me, and it was so different to a boy, it was powerful, possessive, determined, experienced, and skillful.
I felt his cum flowing down my legs as he finally pulled his cock out.
“Next time you’ll think twice about who you threaten, dirty cunt!” he said loudly and zipped up his pants. I grinned at the garage wall.
“Don’t look like that,” he said to the boy. “You saw that the whore wanted it.”
With that, he opened the garage door, and shortly afterward they both disappeared.
The boy’s sister never approached me at school again.
His brother’s friend did it the more often. He fucked me willingly and as often as I wanted. And in secret, too. I was 16 and had his sperm on my panties and on my pants. That was rape. I could have done whatever I wanted with him. Too bad I didn’t have that many ideas back then. He would have been a good employee. But at the time, he was enough for me as a sex partner, protector, and occasional source of money. He seemed happy with this arrangement. Of course, I let him think that he was fucking me and not that he was being fucked by me.
But that’s usually better.