Message-ID: <8232eli$9802081122@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jaypee Subject: Starlet Slave 16-20 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34DC5C86.38CE@KIVA.NET> THE STARLET SLAVE 16 Joy Paine Index words: (none) With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which one -- after all, your tastes may be different. 16. Invitation Dicky was the last guy on earth that you'd ever expect to go on a date with a whore. Or with any girl, for that matter. Dicky was a brain. He wasn't a wimp, by any stretch of the imagination. He had done several things around school that showed real leadership ability. He was President of the school band, for instance, and he had just about single-handedly organized the Science Club. And made it work. But he just didn't seem interested in girls. Sure, he liked to joke with them, just like with the fellows, but you got the idea that if he ever thought of you as a girl, it was as a sort of biological curiosity. We used to joke that if Dicky ever had a wet dream, he'd wring out the sheets and bring the semen in to the lab the next morning. No, he didn't give any indication of being gay, either, and he used to treat the girls with the utmost respect. But he reminded me of that scientist Tesla, who they said cultivated a love for a pigeon so he wouldn't be distracted by women. Tesla, I think. Dicky's mind just operated at a high altitude. Well, you can imagine my amazement when Dicky started taking a shine to me -- catching up with me in the corridor to walk to the next class, for instance. Asking permission (permission, yet!) to eat lunch at the same table with me. The usual things a guy did with a girl he was interested in. No, he didn't offer to carry my books for me. Fellows weren't doing that in those days. I figured that he might be going to do a study on the influence of heredity and diet and lifestyle on the size of breasts, or something. But if he did, I was willing to bet that it would be a scholarly study, worthy of publication in the AMA Journal. And he never made any reference to my "profession", nor did he make any improper suggestions or advances. Hell, I was frustrated when he didn't, and he became sort of a challenge to me. I figured that if he was going to ignore the fact that I was a woman, I was gong to have to find some way to get into his pants. Christ, he probably was a virgin, too. Wouldn't that be just something! What fools these mortals be, as somebody said. Puck, wasn't it? Dicky even asked me to help him with his research project -- something about the mechanism that arouses oestrus in dogs, whatever that is. But I had to beg off, because Peck's demands didn't leave me any free time. Believe me, though, I was really flattered that any man -- especially a Big Man About School like Dicky -- would pay any attention to me. And the fact that I declined to help him with his project didn't turn him off a bit. He just kept on as he had, and finally he got around to asking me for a date. "Bill's parents are going out of town for the weekend, and he's going to give a party," Dicky said. "There'll probably be some drinking, but no dope. Bill's pretty straight when it comes to what he puts into his body. He's really serious about wrestling, you know." Well, you can bet that the invitation flattered the pants off me. If I had been wearing pants, that is. And although a big party wasn't the ideal place to get screwed -- at least, I assumed it wasn't going to be that kind of a party -- there would always be afterwards, when Dicky took me home. Mom would probably be asleep by then, and I could even sneak Dicky into my own bedroom, if he didn't have anything more original in mind. Hell, this wouldn't be the first time. Lots of my customers thought it was fun to defile me in my own bed, where I could just turn over and dream about it afterward. They didn't know that I always had to get up and report to Peck for a debriefing, and maybe for another trick. Or a little playtime with Peck himself. I don't have any idea where the term "debriefing" came from, by the way. Usually a girl had her briefs off long before that time. Well, I was walking on air after Dicky's invitation. And then I came back to earth with a jolt. Shit, Peck would never let me have the time off! I knew damned well what Peck's answer would be, but the dream was so sweet that I asked him anyway, at a time when he had just finished torturing me, and I thought he might be in a good mood. Well, Peck surprised the Hell out of me. He said that he'd be glad to let me have the night off, if . . . ============================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 17 Joy Paine Index words: (none) With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which one -- after all, your tastes may be different. 17. Come to the Party I should have known that there would be a catch to it. And boy, was there a catch! He'd let me have that single night off, he said, if I'd take a "special rate" trick every night until then. Ten straight nights of "special rate"! And I knew it wouldn't do me any good to say no. Now that he had the idea, he'd just assign me to those sadists anyway, whether it was part of a bargain or not. And then he sprang the other half of the deal on me. This was a very special customer, who wanted me over the school vacation on a live-in basis, 24 hours a day. After all, with school in recess next week, he pointed out, that nice Mr. Nelson would have time hanging heavily on his hands, so . . . Besides, he pointed out, Mr. Nelson was one of his few customers that wouldn't mind at all that during half of the time I was going to spend with him, I'd be having my period. I knew that already -- I'd had "periodic" dates with him before. I just about threw up at the thought of spending ten days with Old Nelly, and 24 hour days at that. But, as usual, I didn't have any choice. And I did have Peck's permission to take one night off -- after I had earned it . . . I hated like Hell lying to Mom -- I told her that one of my classmates had invited me to spend the vacation on her cousin's farm -- but I'd been lying a lot to Mom lately, anyway, to explain why I never spent any time at home. Well, I don't want to go into any details about that week with Nelly -- the sooner that's forgotten, the better. Suffice it to say that he made me strip the minute I walked into his house, and then he fastened those damned bra-clamps on me the first thing, and made me keep them on the whole time. And then he took it from there . . . I kept trying to cheer myself up with the thought of how my date with Dicky was going to be -- my first real romantic date since I had become Peck's white slave. Of course, Peck insisted that I wear that damned Persuader in my asshole for my date with Dicky -- just like he did for all of my dates -- even though I wasn't going to be "on duty". "After all," he smirked, "if you won't fuck that way for my clients, I won't have you doing it on your own, for free." He wouldn't listen to my protests that Dicky wasn't that kind of guy -- he just sort of smiled as if he knew better, and then sent me off to take the enema and put in the Persuader. And he tested it, of course, with a couple of bursts of current, to make sure it was properly in place and working. It was. So I got all fixed up in my pretty party dress and my sexiest underwear, and Mom was delighted at the thought of my going out on a date. I'd been spending far too much time on that jewelry design course that I'd been taking with Mr. Peck, she said, and there was something about that man she didn't trust. And so on. Well, Dicky came to pick me up, like a perfect gentleman, corsage and all, and escorted me to the car. He even held the car door open while I got in, and then walked around to the driver's side. We had just got under way when things suddenly went sour. That damned Persuader in my asshole started going off! It was very low voltage, but enough to make me squirm. Luckily, Dicky didn't notice. That damned Peck! I might have known that he wouldn't let me have one night of real fun without spoiling everything. Either he was firing that goddam thing by radio, or he had put some kind of timing device in it, I was sure. And who knew what that Little Wonder was going to do before the night was over? Well, we got over to Bill's house without my actually breaking down and screaming, but the shocks had been getting steadily worse. And then Dicky parked the car, opened the door for me, and escorted me into the house. He must have noticed my agony by now. He probably put it down to stomach cramps. I can imagine what he was thinking -- here I've gone to all this trouble to take her out for a good time, and it turns out that she's got the rag on! Poor Dicky! And poor me! I knew that there was something wrong as soon as we walked in the door, but it took me a moment to put my finger on it. Then it hit me. Most of the guys from school were there, but I was the only girl at the party! ======================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 18 Joy Paine Index words: snappy lingerie s# With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which one -- after all, your tastes may be different. 18. Snappy Clothes Well, I thought bitterly, so much for chivalry and romanticism, and all that sort of horse shit. While he was giving me all that sweet talk, Dicky had been planning a gang bang for me! I was going to tell him what I thought of him, and about the whole idea, when he pulled his hand out of his pocket. And guess what? He had the control box of the Persuader in his hand. Shit! he'd been buzzing my asshole all the while he'd been playing Mr. Nice Guy! I had a pretty good idea by now how the evening was going to turn out. Even before he told me to strip. Well, I told myself, this is the absolute bottom. After I put up with 24 hours of Old Nelly for ten days -- to get this -- things couldn't get any worse. Shows how little a girl knows, sometimes. Even after my "professional" experience, it was embarrassing to strip in front of my friends (some friends!), especially when I had been planning to have a nice old-fashioned normal party evening with them. But Dicky and the Persuader didn't give me any choice. He told me to take my time about it -- nice and slow, "by the numbers" -- slow and sexy. Pantyhose first. He said that if there was anything that turned him off it was a broad in pantyhose, so let's get them off before the dress, even. The fellows started whistling and clapping and cheering as soon as I unzipped my dress, and they gave a real round of applause when I let the garment fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Dicky had me walk around a bit in my slip, just to get everybody in the mood, and then gave me the nod to take it off. Well, you remember that I had worn my sexiest peekaboo bra and panty set -- the ones that were part of my working clothes on those rare occasions when Peck didn't want to present me as pure slut. Pure slut! Now there's a contradiction of terms for you. Just like what Old Nelly used to call an oxymoron in his English class. See -- I'd learned something from him besides how to get fucked, in both senses of the term. After I'd taken off my slip, the guys started joking about what would happen with a pair of tits as big as mine when I took off my bra. And of course they had to make the test, to find out. I was very proud in those days of the fact that my tits didn't sag a bit without any support. Hell, I still am proud of it -- even after all the abuse they've taken. But Dicky said, don't worry -- he had some real snappy underwear for me. s# So off came the bra, and on went the "snappy" replacement. It was a pretty stupid looking thing -- it was apparently made from a standard bra, but the fabric had all been cut out of the cups, leaving just the straps and a ring of cloth circling each tit. And some strips of elastic had been sewed into the rings, in the form of a big X, criss-crossing the tit, and crossing each other right at the nipple, where they had sewed a big button. It didn't look very snappy to me, but then Dicky showed me why he had given it that name. He grabbed the buttons, one in each hand, and stretched the elastic out as far as it would go, and SPLAT! They snapped, all right -- and hit right on the nipples, with devastating pain. And all the guys cheered as I screamed. They all took turns with the snapping for a while, and then they had me take off my panties . . . The snapping button at my clitoris hurt almost as much as the ones on my nipples did. And then they snapped all of them together for a while. ================================================================= THE STARLET SLAVE 19 Joy Paine Index words: (none) With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which one -- after all, your tastes may be different. 19. A Real Bitch It was about this time that Sheila and Rosie walked into the room, dressed just as I was. So I wasn't going to be the only girl fucked at the party, after all. But I didn't know that they had something special in mind for me. "You remember, Ellie Baby," Dicky said, "that I invited you to help me with my research project. On what makes dogs mate, that is. But you were too busy, you said. Well, I've decided to give you one more chance to work with me." Goosing me with the Persuader, he directed me over to a sort of low table on one side of the room, where he made me lie down on my back. "I'm afraid we'll have to take off the panties for this gig." he said. in mock apology. And then he fastened my legs to the table, spreading my thighs out wide. After he had strapped my wrists down so that I couldn't move, and put a pussy gag in my mouth so that the guys could rape my face whenever they wanted to, he gave me the bad news. "Now," he announced, "we're going to demonstrate what it takes to make the dogs fuck you." My God, how gross! I just about tore my arms off, trying to get loose, but whatever they had tied me with held too damned well, and all I could do was lie there. They put a pillow under my head, so I could watch my "lovers" while they screwed me. Well, first they said that they wanted my "boyfriends" to get acquainted with me, so they poured some gravy on my cunt and nipples, and let the dogs lick it off. And that's when I had the first orgasm of my life. And the second, and the third, and . . . shit, it was just one orgasm after another for the next several minutes. At first, it was real pleasant, even though the edge was taken off by the fact that my schoolmates were watching, and applauding, and making all sorts of lewd comments. But the pleasure wore off quickly, and it was no time at all before I'd had enough to last me for moths. I moaned and struggled and screamed through the gag, but the fact that I was in agony didn't stop them, of course. After all, that's why they were doing it. And then Dicky took the stage again. "It is generally accepted", he said as if he were lecturing to a class, "that oestrus in the lower animals is produced by the odors of the pheromones secreted by the female's vulva. Or in language that you will all understand, it's the smell of the bitch's twat that makes the dog want to fuck her. We are about to test that theory. If a couple of you fellows would please fasten the dogs' leashes to the leg of that table over there for a few moments . . ." He took a sealed jar from the bar -- a jar in which a rag was immersed in a clear fluid. "The base of this liquid", he went on, "is the wipings from the cunts of the lab's bitches that were in heat this morning. They're mixed with an odorless liquid that just makes it easier to spread. And also lubricates the cunt when necessary. I think, though, that we'll find that little Ellie's twat is naturally slippery enough after the antics she's just been going through." The dogs just about went wild when Dicky uncorked the bottle and they got a whiff of it. It was the real stuff, all right. He wiped it liberally on my cunt, smearing a bit of it into the crack, so the dogs would know exactly where it was at. And then he sealed up the bottle again, and wiped his hands off with something that killed the smell on them. Then they turned the dogs loose. Nauseating as it was, I couldn't tear my eyes away. Those dogs swarmed about me just as they would have around a real bitch, fighting, growling, the whole bit. The fucking itself wasn't painful -- just thoroughly disgusting. And of course it was all being recorded for posterity on film and videotape. This was one rape that was going to be enjoyed at stag parties for generations to come. After that, the fucking and sucking that went on for the rest of the evening were an anticlimax. Sucking for me, that is; both fucking and sucking for Rosie and Sheila. Nobody wanted to come near my cunt after that stint with the dogs. Including me. The guys did introduce some painful and degrading little games to spice things up, but nothing like the stuff that I was used to with the "special rate" customers. And then Dicky became the perfect gentleman again. =============================================================== THE STARLET SLAVE 20 Joy Paine Index words: (none) With one exception, the characters in this story have no intentional resemblance to anyone living or dead. The one exception is that I like to imagine myself in one of the roles. I'm not going to tell you which one -- after all, your tastes may be different. 20. Free After he helped me back into my party clothes, Dicky drove me home again without even turning on that damned Persuader once. And then he invited himself in -- he had to use the Persuader just a touch there -- and Mom gave us some cake and milk, and asked if we had a good time at the party, and talked with Dicky for a while about how his research project was going. It was great "fun" listening to Dicky's double-meaning answers about the ways he had tested his research -- how he had just recently tried it out on a special "bitch". . . Peck had great plans for that summer. After graduation, he told me, I was going to tell Mom that I had been offered a job as counsellor in a summer camp. He was even going to print up some fancy stationery for the camp, after he decided whether to call it the Four King Hideaway or Many Forks. Or maybe the 4-Q dude ranch. He always was a fast one with the dirty pun. And then, while Mom thought I was off at camp, I would move in with Peck so I could be on duty 24 hours a day (and every day of the month, as he loved to put it). And maybe he could make me available for out-of-town trips with some of his clients, as well. Or take on temporary assignments in some of the whorehouses that he had "exchange programs" with. Or maybe as live-in sex slave with some rich man -- or woman. And he didn't say so, but I was deathly afraid that once I got into some out-of-town gig, I might never come back. But it didn't work out for him. I hate to put it this way, but it was a great relief when Mom's heart gave out in her sleep one night, and the only real hold that Peck had on me was broken. I had known all along that that fake confession he had wouldn't hold water -- its only value had been to give him an excuse to threaten to worry Mom by calling in the police -- and there was nothing I had to lose by letting the rest of the town know what was going on. After all, they knew me as the town whore, anyway. Mom's insurance money, along with what I got from the sale of the house, was enough to enable me to enroll in the university in the state capital, where I could make a fresh start. And then Jeff came along. I lied to you a little about Jeff. After I had been in class with him for a few days, he recognized me from some of Peck's hard-core porn pictures that he had bought under the counter somewhere, and he blackmailed me into moving in with him, or else he would show them around the campus. But he was a Hell of a lot better master than Peck had been. I just thanked God that Jeff hadn't got hold of some of those torture pictures of me that Peck had been peddling -- I'm sure that he would have made me re-enact them again and again. Well (Ellen concluded) that's the way it all happened. So now you know everything that led up to that fucking fraternity party. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |