Room 24: Theirs to Humiliate, Theirs to Pleasure

“No. Doesn’t work that way.” He forces his fingers deeper, then takes the back of my head in his other hand to hold me still. “You’re going to take what you’re given, slut. Try that again, and you get punished. Understand?” All I can do is make a sound that I hope conveys agreement. Does it even matter? I’m completely out of control, my legs are starting to cramp, and I’m fighting to keep from gagging until I throw up. What happens if I throw up? Do I lose the money? Nobody wants to fuck the girl who threw up on them.

“You’ve had enough fun.” Somebody shoves the man aside, and his fingers disappear. I gulp in air and feel the saliva all around my mouth and chin. “Put your legs down and stand up.” I barely have time to lower my legs and put my feet on the floor before somebody takes me by my bicep and hauls me upright.

“Now, get on your knees.” I do, trembling. What are they going to do next? I hear them moving around, their footfalls filling the air, along with the sound of my frantic gasps for breath.

“Come here.” My head turns to the right, my ears following the sound. “Come this way. Crawl to me.”

“Slowly,” somebody adds. I think it’s Arden. His voice is the deepest.

I can’t believe this. I lean forward, palms on the floor, and remind myself again that I need the money. I need it so badly. I can’t let my pride get in the way. So what if my ass is in the air and my boobs sway with every move I make? I start slowly, trying to follow the direction I think the first voice came from.

“Where are you going?” someone says with a nasty laugh. “I’m over here.”

“Better hurry up.” All of a sudden, somebody smacks my ass. I yelp from the surprise and the sting the palm leaves behind. Tears fill my eyes behind the blindfold.

Which is it supposed to be? Do I take my time, or do I hurry up? I move a little faster than before even though I can’t see where I’m going. I don’t know which direction is which now. I’m afraid if I stop, I’ll get another smack, but I’m afraid I’ll run into a wall or something, too. In my head, I see the velvet-covered sofa and the coffee table. Where are they?

“What’s taking you so long?” Now the voice comes from my left. I follow it and try to ignore the soft laughter coming from the guys.

“Spread your legs wider.” I do, even though it makes crawling even more awkward. “Having fun?”

I don’t want to answer, but I’m afraid not to. “No.”

Laughter erupts around me. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, you like it. Or is your pussy always that shiny and wet?”

Oh, my god. They can see? I hate myself for getting wet, but even more that there’s enough for them to see. That’s the last thing my body should be doing right now. I’m so confused and embarrassed and a little scared of where this is going.

But these guys are hot, and they want me. They’re looking at me right now and wanting me. I guess something is exciting about that. I can’t see them, but I hear them breathing. Grunting. It’s only a matter of time before they decide to stop messing around—and that’s exciting, too.

Not yet, though. They want me to crawl around and feel dirty first.

“I can smell your pussy from across the room, whore. Don’t pretend you’re not ready to be used.” He snaps his fingers. “Come on. Over here.” He’s moving, though, so I have to follow him. I hear one of them following me. Staring at my ass, I guess, or my pussy. Or both.

After what feels like a million years, my head bumps up against something hard. A kneecap. “Good little slut.” A hand cups the back of my head, stroking my hair. “Now get down low. Stick your ass in the air. And kiss my shoe.”

“Wh-What?”

That’s all it takes for the gentle hand to turn harsh, grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging. “Kiss my shoe. Don’t make me tell you again. Show me how grateful you are that we’re going to fuck every part of you tonight.”

I can’t hold back a whimper as I slowly lower my head, hoping he’s not talking about the sole of his shoe. The top would be bad enough.

“Moan for me,” he growls as my lips touch the shoe leather. “Show me you love it.”

I do my best to make it sound like this isn’t totally humiliating, but his hand loosens like he’s pleased anyway. “Good little slut. Now turn around and cross the room and do it again.”

“Over here,” somebody grunts. “Follow the sound of my voice. Don’t keep me waiting.”

I turn around carefully and start following the sound of a soft whistling. “Look at that ass,” someone says. “I can’t wait to paint it with my cum.” Wetness floods my slit, and I whimper in embarrassment. I shouldn’t like that idea, but deep down inside, I do. Way too much.

“You’re getting better at this,” someone else says an instant before my fingertips touch another shoe. I scoot forward a little and sense something on either side of me. Thighs. I’m between somebody’s spread legs, and they’re seated.

He takes me by the shoulders and raises me until I’m sitting on my calves. His hands caress my boobs before sliding up over my throat, then my face. For a second, I think he’s going to take off the blindfold, and I wish he would. I could handle this better if I could see.

“You’re perfect,” he decides. “Too perfect.” He drags a thumb over my mouth, which I know must smear the red lipstick I so carefully applied before coming here.

He turns my head to one side, then the other. “No. Still not good enough.” He holds my chin with one hand, and the sound of a lowering zipper tells me what he’s doing with the other hand.

“You always go first,” somebody complains.