The Rent-A-Slave

"I'd never dream of turning your place into a whorehouse, Mickey," I said. "I didn't charge the guys that fucked me, and we didn't even do it in the bar. We came out to the picnic area." I reached under me, wetted my fingers in my piss, and put them in my mouth. "Mmm," I said.

"You know very well what I'm talking about, Brenda," said Mickey, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. "In a small town like this I can't afford a reputation as a place where people fuck on the lawn. Respectable patrons will stop coming, drug dealers will show up, and before you know it I'll be ruined."

Just as my piss was running out, Mickey leaned forward and put his cock in my mouth. I held his thick thighs to steady myself while he fucked my face. "I value your patronage, Brenda. I really do. But if you can't behave yourself, I'm going to ban you," he said. "Understand?"

"Aaagh," I said, which was the best I could do with my mouth full of his cock.

"No more blowjobs in the ladies'," he said. "No more gangbangs in the picnic area. Understand?"

He drove in up to his pubic hair, and I coughed and drooled.

He pulled out of me and said, "Understand, Brenda?"

I said, "Yes, Mickey," and he seized me by the back of the neck, shoved me onto my hands and knees, and pushed into me from behind.

Panting with the effort, he said, "Stay out of the ladies. You obviously can't be trusted to use it the way it's meant to be used."

I supported myself with one hand and reached between my legs to stroke my clit with the other. "Yes, Mickey," I said.

"Fuck, that feels good!" he gasped, then continued: "If you need to piss, come back to my office and use my private bathroom. That way I can keep an eye on you. Oh, shit! I'm gonna come!"

"No!" I cried, but it was too late: he groaned, and thrust hard, and came in my pussy - a whole load of cum I wouldn't get to swallow.

He was saying something about the good, decent people that frequented his bar, but I was too preoccupied to listen. I squatted against the wall again and held my hand under my vag to catch the drips of cum as they ran out. Mickey was tucking away his cock and zipping his pants up while he lectured me.

As I brought my hand to my mouth and licked the cum out of my palm, he was finishing up, ". . . a place for respectable people like Dr. Rosenberg, who want a quiet place for the occasional drink."

"I understand, Mickey," I said. "I won't embarrass you again."

"Good," he said. "Tell Tony I said the next one is on the house." Then he waddled away towards the back entrance and I headed back into the bar.

"Tony," I whispered as he brought me my free beer, "I absolutely need to suck your cock!"

"No way," he whispered back. "You're gonna get me fired."

"Shit," I said, and stared gloomily around the room. There were still no single men here, but something caught my eye back in a dark corner. It was a woman, and she seemed to be staring at me.

When she saw me looking at her, she got up, came to the bar, and stood in front of me. She was in her thirties or so, trim and rich-looking, with porcelain skin and silvery blond hair. Her face was hard and unfriendly. For some reason I imagined her biting my tit, and my pussy got tingly.

"Hi!" I said.

"I just wanted a closeup look at the woman my husband's been having an affair with," she said.

"Um, who's your husband? I mean, like, who are you?"

"How many husbands are you having affairs with?" she said.

"I don't have affairs, exactly," I said, "but I've fucked at least two married men that I know of. In the last week, I mean."

"That you know of?"

"Men don't always tell me a lot of details about their lives. There isn't a lot of time to talk, you know."

She looked like she'd stepped in dog shit. "I'm Sylvia Rosenberg," she said, "and you are shameless."

"Actually, I'm Brenda," I said. "Are you going to like make a scene?"

"Not if you leave my husband alone."

"Could we like talk at your table?"

She sighed, turned, and walked to her table. I followed and sat across a corner from her - close enough to talk, but not too close.

"I want you to leave my husband alone," she said.

"You should talk to him about that," I said. "I work for him, and I like really need the job. If he calls me into his office and fucks me there what can I do about that?"

"But you just as much as admitted you're a slut. You don't even know how many married men you're . . . you're . . ."

"Fucking, Mrs. Rosenberg. It's true. I've been totally out of control for like a week, and I can't seem to stop myself. That makes it even harder to say no to Dr. Rosenberg when he wants to fuck me."

"It's not just at work. I hear you attended a sex party with him last weekend."

"It's not like I was his date, Mrs. Rosenberg. I didn't go there with him. I was tied up in the men's room - as a urinal, you know - and he came in and . . ."

She flinched, and I stopped. "I guess you don't want to hear this."

"You were . . . a urinal?"

"I was tied up, and I had this like ring in my mouth, to hold it open, you know, and a whole lot of men came in and pissed in my mouth. It was incredibly hot, Mrs. Rosenberg."

She shivered. "Is that all he did?"

"He fucked my ass and then he face-fucked me. There was a little shit on his cock, and it made me throw up. Thinking about how I threw up that night always makes me wet." I wanted to touch my pussy, but forced myself to keep both hands on top of the table.

"And he does this at the office too?"

"He's a wicked fuck, Mrs. Rosenberg. You're really lucky to have a husband like that."

She made a face. "Those are disgusting things he did. He's tried to persuade me to let him do things like that, but I won't let him. Just knowing he wants that kind of thing . . . it makes my skin crawl when he touches me."

"Listen, Mrs. Rosenberg. It's maybe not my place to say, but if you don't want to fuck him, why do you care what he does when he's not home?"

"You're right. It's not your place to say. You're a slut, and your idea of sex is disgusting and perverted." She was turning red as she spoke. "Anal sex, drinking urine, eating feces."

"I didn't eat feces, Mrs. Rosenberg. There were just like these little flecks of shit on his cock."

"Vomiting, promiscuity, God knows what else."

"Gangbangs, ass-licking, swallowing cum," I sighed, "and I love it when people insult me." I put my hand under the table, hoping nobody would notice.

"The thought that he's even touched a girl like you fills me with loathing," she continued. "It's bad enough you're so . . . plain and coarse, but your clothes, your makeup, it's trashy and low. What are you doing?"

"Keep talking, Mrs. Rosenberg," I panted, staring at her. She was so fucking beautiful.

She seemed to be sweating. "It isn't . . . it isn't the, um, infidelity I mind, but, um . . . um, the, uh, lack of taste. Please stop doing that."

"Mrs. Rosenberg," I gasped, "I so want to eat your cunt."

Here's a way that women are different than men. Tell a man you want to give him oral sex and he hauls it right out for you, but what Mrs. Rosenberg did is slap my face. People all over the room turned to look, then quickly went back to their conversations. We weren't their problem.

Suddenly I was sober. I took my fingers out of myself and said, "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Rosenberg, but I've got to piss." I got up, walked over to the bar, waved at Tony, and said, "Mickey told me I could use the bathroom in his office."

"I know," he said. "He's gone home, but here's the key." He took a key out of his pocket and handed it to me.

Mickey's cluttered little office was at the end of the same little hallway with the ladies' and men's rooms. I unlocked the door, went in, closed it behind me, and looked around for the bathroom. There was a door on the other side of his desk - it had to be that. I made for it and was just reaching for the knob when the office door opened.

I turned around, hoping Tony had come for a blowjob, but it was Mrs. Rosenberg.

"The ladies' is the door you passed on the left," I said.

"I know," she said, closed the door behind her, and turned the lock. She came towards me, saying, "You were on your way to the bathroom. Go ahead."

She had this scary look, like she was going to do something crazy, and I thought I should deal with that somehow, but I had to pee real bad - in fact, it was getting to be an emergency, and I couldn't think straight.

"Okay," I said, opened the door to Mickey's bathroom, and stepped inside.

I tried to close the door, but she stopped it with a hand, peering inside.

"It's filthy," she said with a rigid smile that showed her teeth.

I looked around and saw it was true. The walls were water stained, there were brown streaks in the ancient sink, and the toilet seat was up so you could see the rim was dingy and yellow with dried piss.

"Yeah," I said.

"You can't go in a toilet that dirty," she said.

"It's okay. I've seen worse."

"You're going to have to clean it," she said.

I looked at her. There was this manic light in her eyes.

"It's really okay," I said. I was thinking about escaping now instead of pissing, but she was blocking the door. "Do you mind if I just . . ."

She seized my shoulders with surprisingly strong hands, spun me around, and pushed my face down towards the toilet. "Clean it up, Brenda," she said. "You like piss so much, you should love this."

"No!" I whined. The toilet was horrible: it probably hadn't been cleaned in two weeks. A couple of Mickey's pubic hairs were stuck to the rim. But somehow I didn't have the will to resist as she pushed my head towards the cold porcelain. My pussy tingled, just like it did before when she was insulting me.

"Lick it," she commanded in a voice as cold as ice, pushing me closer.

I put out my tongue and touched the rim tentatively with the tip. But at that moment she gave my head a shove, flattening my nose and lips against the dirty toilet rim.

"Fucking lick it!" she said.

The taste of stale piss was vile, and the smell was worse. The tingling in my pussy turned into a firestorm, and I gave the toilet a long lick, breathing in the dirty bathroom smell and catching up one of the pubic hairs in my mouth.

"Go on," said Mrs. Rosenberg. "Clean it all up."

I didn't have to be forced now: I licked up the stale piss, working my way around the rim, and I didn't notice till it was as clean as a tongue can make it that her hand wasn't on the back of my neck anymore.

I sat up when I was done and looked at her. She was naked, her slender body a brilliant, frosty white, her breasts small and pink-nippled.

"God, what a skank," she said. She pushed me down onto the floor and straddled me. I looked up between her legs: her pubic hair was blond and neatly trimmed, her neat little lips just peeking out. As pussies go, it was very upper crust.

With red-nailed fingertips she pulled her pink lips apart and sat on my face, slit closing over my nose and mouth. She didn't give me a chance to lick her, though I tried: instead she took a handful of my hair in her fist and humped my face, chanting "Bitch! Cunt!" over and over. She slid back and forth, bounced on me, and her pussy got wetter and wetter till her love juice was running down my cheeks.

I loved her pussy, her contempt, the way she was mauling my face: hotter by the second and rubbing my clit frantically, I gasped when she let me get a breath, and finally I spasmed and thrashed as my orgasm shook me, and my bladder was still so full I lost control and my piss splashed my thighs and puddled between my legs, wetting my ass. Fortunately my dress was up around my waist and didn't get wet.

"Fuck!" Mrs. Rosenberg screeched as she came, riding my face like a bronco.

When she was calmer, she stood up and looked down at me - at my wet face and the puddle between my legs.

Pulling her dress on over her head, she said, "You'd better clean all this up." Then she stepped into her panties, pulled them up, and left the bathroom without a backwards glance.

I cleaned the floor with some paper towels, thinking Mrs. Rosenberg was an asshole just like her husband. Then I went back to the bar. Mrs. Rosenberg had left. Tony gave me a disgusted look and said, "Again, Brenda?"

"Totally not my fault, Tony," I said. "I was attacked by an insane vampire lesbian."

"Right," he said.

4. In the cable store

Between my encounter with Mrs. Rosenberg and my excitement about Betsy's party, I had trouble sleeping that night. I got up to watch TV, but there wasn't much on. It occurred to me that what with the raise I'd extorted from Dr. Rosenberg and the money I'd earned whoring, I was really rich now, and I ought to upgrade my cable service.

Calmer for having made some kind of decision, I went back to bed and slept till ten, and then I had some instant coffee and drove down to the cable store.

There were two guys in the store: one was at a counter with his back to me, writing in a notebook, and the other approached with a wide smile. His name tag said Jeremiah, and he had an "Ask Me About Jesus" button. He was in his early twenties, I guessed, clean cut, and handsome. He gave me a wolfish smile as I walked in.

I said, "I want to upgrade my service. I'll take HBO and Showtime and all the porn channels you've got."

He looked at me with interest. "Your boyfriend like to watch those?"

"I haven't got a boyfriend."

"No? A beautiful woman like you?"

"Sad but true."

"I think we're all happiest when we're in committed relationships," he said, leading me towards a counter with a computer on it.

"Maybe," I said, "but the last one I was in didn't work out so great."

"That's too bad," he said. "I'm not in a relationship either, but you know, ever since I committed myself to Jesus I've got this confidence that He'll find the right wife for me. God has all our best interests at heart."

"I know just what you mean!" I exclaimed. "I trust in Him completely, and lately I've just like felt His hand guiding me in everything I do."

"That's so great to know . . . uh, what's your name?" His hands were poised over the keyboard.

I told him my name, and the other guy looked around and stared.

"Brenda, of course!" Jeremiah exclaimed. "It's terrific to meet you! I'll just fetch your record up here . . . it'll only take a second."

The other guy, who was in his thirties I guess, blond and bearded, sidled around the end of the counter and over to the front door, which he locked, turning around the "Open" sign. My nipples tingled.

Jeremiah swiveled the monitor towards me and said, "Why don't you look over this list of channels, Brenda, and tell us which ones you'd like." He came around the end of the counter and stood next to me, looking on.

I peered at the monitor, which had a list on it in fine print. "Well, HBO and Showtime, like I said, and, um, Brazzers and MoFos and . . ."

Jeremiah touched a key, and the screen dissolved to a picture of me tied up in a stall between two urinals. I had a ring gag holding my mouth open, and a man with his back to the camera was pissing through the ring. The picture was a little grainy, but the stream of piss was clearly visible, and I thought it was a pretty good picture of me.

"How did you get this?" I demanded, turning towards him. Then I said, "Fuck!" He had his fingers wrapped around the biggest cock I'd ever seen - thick as a salami, long as my forearm.

"Oh my God, Jeremiah," I said, "is that real?" I didn't wait for an answer, but dropped to my knees and crammed as much of it as I could into my mouth. I couldn't get more than about a third of it in, but he seemed happy: he gasped and moaned and thrust, and I guessed that he hadn't met any girls that could take even as much of him as I did.

"Fuck yeah!" he said, and rammed into me so hard it was like agony - my jaws were forced so wide open they hurt, and his cock bumped the back of my throat, way behind my tonsils.

Within a few seconds he was all the way in! I was deep throating this whale of a cock, his pubic hair was tickling my lips, I was making loud rasping noises from somewhere inside me, and I felt happy and proud that I could do this.

"Praise the Lord!" he cried.

Just as I'd gotten Jeremiah in all the way, the older guy, who had undressed and had a hard tan body, hauled me to my feet so I was bent at the waist, lifted my dress, pulled down my panties, and shoved into my pussy, which had gotten sopping wet within a few seconds of my laying eyes on Jeremiah's cock. It was nice getting fucked from behind, but really Jeremiah was the main act - his cock was so amazingly big, going way down inside me and gagging me with every stroke.

In back of me, the older guy was probing my ass with a finger. "Nice stretchy asshole," he commented. I guessed that was a compliment, so I said "Hank oo" when I had a chance. By then he had two fingers in my ass and was saying "Gonna fuck this ass." He spat into my crack.

I was glad that guy was going to go first, because he'd stretch it for Jeremiah, who'd totally tear me up if he went first. I guess Jeremiah had the same idea, because he said, "Yeah, stretch her for me, dude."

The older guy pulled his cock out of my pussy and slowly pressed into my ass. "That's so fucking fine," he said, but all I could do was groan way back in my throat, because Jeremiah's cock was still plugging me up.

Someone was rattling the door and knocking, but we didn't pay any attention, and we were too far back in the store for them to see.

"Gimme a turn in that ass, dude," said Jeremiah, and I braced myself for his big cock in me. But Jeremiah paused to undress, and meanwhile the older guy was shoving into my mouth, and in spite of the enemas there was a smell and a slight bitter flavor. But I didn't have any time to worry about it, because Jeremiah pushed that monster of his into my ass, and I had to pull away from the other guy's cock and shout "Fuck!" because the pain was so sudden and sharp. The guy took my head in his hands, pulled me towards him and shoved into me again.

"Dude!" said Jeremiah. "This is totally the ass! This is the ass to end all asses!" He was already pounding me furiously, and all I could say about it with the other guy's cock in my throat was "Urrghh!"

"Babe, you gotta sit on it," he said, and laid on the floor while the other guy guided me onto him.

Sitting on Jeremiah's mountain of cock with my back towards his head, my ass was stretched as far as it had ever been, but somehow it was starting to feel good. I supported myself with my hands on his chest and bounced on him. You see this in porn videos, but it's harder than it looks, and tiring.

The other guy squatted, grabbed my legs and lifted them, and shoved into my pussy. Now that really is awkward. You can't easily support yourself with your arms, but you have to sort of lie back on the guy underneath, and he doesn't have very good leverage for thrusting into your ass, but just has to sort of wiggle back and forth and stimulate himself as best he can. Jeremiah was surprisingly good at it - I mean, you don't really expect that somehow from a guy wearing an "Ask Me About Jesus" button, but he caught me in his arms and supported me while the other guy fucked me, propping himself up with his hands on the floor.

So double penetration was pretty amazing - that way too full feeling, and not really being in control of your body, but just giving yourself to these strangers. I wondered what the other guy's name was and was just about to ask when he pulled out of my pussy and crammed himself into my ass along with Jeremiah's monster cock.