That’s my selling point, my most marketable commodity. My unfucked arsehole. They should just take a picture of it, blow it up, hang it over my head and print GET IT HERE under the image. I began to pant, the heat in my crotch fierce and itchy now.
‘Well,’ said Victorian Gent at last, his words fanning my sphincter so that I squirmed, ‘I daresay I can save that pleasure for a less public occasion. I do want a good feel of her cunt, though.’ He released my buttocks and smacked them. ‘Turn around and show me.’
I faced the crowd again. My bare breasts and pussy had nowhere to hide and now the audience was huge, people tiptoeing and stretching to get the best view of my shameful exposure.
Victorian Gent’s hand shoved itself between my legs so quickly that I staggered a little, tripping forward so my pussy landed on his fingers almost accidentally.
‘Ah, keep still, girl. Yes, I see. Very wet.’ His fingertips massaged my clit, spreading the lips wide while I rocked on my feet, wishing I could take my hands off my head to steady myself. In my head, I could almost convince myself that this wasn’t happening – that I wasn’t standing in front of dozens of strangers being intimately fingered by a man I’d never met before. I could think about the stiffness gathering in my calves, the industrial music playing somewhere over to my left, Maz’s laughter, my empty stomach which could do with filling, but then my cunt always overrode my mind, dragging it out of its safe place, bringing it back to reality. The reality of my humiliation and submission, a humiliation and submission that was building up in fiery layers from my groin upwards, ready to push me into that ultimate act of surrender – my unforced orgasm.
Was it possible to lose self-consciousness to this extent? As soon as I thought I was close, my mind would try to shut off and take me out of my pure sexual self.
‘Shut your eyes,’ said Justin.
I shut them and felt only the fingers of my would-be master, pushing up inside me while his other hand held me by one bare bum cheek in an iron grip. The fingers thrust, thick and filling, up and down inside me while his thumb kept playing with my clit. I heard the sound it made, the wet suck of my greedy cunt, wanting more, needing to be stretched and used. My legs buckled and I fell against his shoulder. He held me steady, supporting my weight without trouble, never breaking his unhurried rhythm while the crowd murmured and clinked glasses.
‘She’s soaking wet,’ said Victorian Gent in a low voice. ‘She could take a lot of cock too, though she’s tight. I’d make sure this cunt was kept as busy as possible. The secret of a good slave is plenty of hard fucking, I think.’
Light flashed in front of my eyes and I slumped over his shoulder, coming with a desperate whimper that I couldn’t silence however hard I tried.
‘Did you give her permission to come?’ asked Victorian Gent of Justin politely, while his hand patted my bottom.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Because she just did. I’m sure you noticed.’
‘We haven’t really got as far as orgasm control.’
‘Well, that’s another project for a rainy day then. She’s very promising. I’d like to register my interest.’
I regained some of my breath, though my throat was still dry. On opening my eyes, I saw Maz smiling. Victorian Gent allowed me to step off his fingers, readjust my clothing and leave the podium, where Maz had a large glass of wine waiting for me.
‘She doesn’t belong to us,’ Justin confessed.
‘Really? You aren’t taking bids?’ Victorian Gent sounded disappointed. I hadn’t gathered the strength to look at his face yet.
‘This was a fantasy she outlined to us, which we agreed to help her with,’ explained Maz.
Victorian Gent turned to me. ‘So you can speak for yourself?’
I lifted my eyes to his. They weren’t as intimidating as I’d feared. I thought I could see the traces of a twinkle somewhere. I reminded myself that this man had just fingered me to orgasm in front of an audience and blushed, turning my face away.
He stopped me with a finger on my cheek – a finger that smelled of me.
‘What do you say, slave girl? Would you like a master?’
‘I, I’m not sure. I mean, I would, but I’m not sure how it could work. In the real world.’
‘Ah, the real world.’ He shook his head gravely, but the corners of his mouth curved upwards. ‘Always spoiling our fun. But if, theoretically, a way of combining the real world with the fantasy one was possible?’
‘Oh, then, yes.’
‘And your fantasy of being put on display and exhibited for common use – does it go any further?’
‘What do you mean?’ I took a swig of wine.
‘You let me take plenty of liberties with you just then. Would you go even further than that?’
I took a breath.