C9

You like that, don't you?" Anthony grinned. "You have a body that's just made to be fucked." The base of the probe pressed against her as it bottomed out within her. His fingers spread open her pussy lips. "Just look at how wet you are! Being used for sex really turns you on."

He penetrated her with his fingers. Juices leaked from her, and she whimpered, shamefaced. Butterfly wings danced in her stomach.

The phone rang, shrill and jarring.

He straightened and withdrew his fingers. "Get the phone. Bring it to me."

She stared up at him, disoriented, not understanding his words. The phone rang again.

"Bring me the phone. Now."

She turned awkwardly and tried to stand. The hard metal shaft buried so far inside her shifted, and a strong jolt of something midway between pleasure and pain shot through her. She moaned and dropped to her knees.

Another ring. She fell forward and crawled clumsily on hands and knees over to the nightstand, hampered by the steel cuffs binding her wrists together. As she straightened and reached for the phone, the probe shifted again; she clenched tightly around it and jerked, sending the telephone crashing to the floor. The handset skittered away.

"Hello? Hello?" came a small, tinny voice.

She picked up the receiver and shuffled on her knees to where Anthony waited patiently. With each motion, the probe inside her moved slightly, causing her to moan and gasp. She knelt before her husband and offered him the handset.

He took it from her, then took her hands and folded them around his cock, which hardened beneath her fingers. With one hand, he covered the mouthpiece. "Stroke me off, little whore." Then he turned his attention to the caller, and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

She looked up at him nervously. She had never before touched a man's penis this way; all her life, she ad heard stories of women who did things like this, touched men in such ways, and how perverted they were to debase themselves like that. For reasons she didn't fully understand, she had expected that a penis, viewed this close up, would be coarse and rough; the velvety softness of the skin surprised her. She moved her hands up and down uncertainly, not quite sure what to do.

Small, indistinct sounds came from the earpiece. "No, quite all right," Anthony responded. "I dropped the phone, that's all." He covered the mouthpiece again and looked down at her. "Harder. Faster."

She tightened her grip around his shaft and moved her hands more quickly. "I'm sorry, what's that again?" he asked. The person on the other end answered indistinctly. "There is? Good. I've been waiting for it. Can you do me a favor and read me the return address?"

A long pause followed. His breathing deepened, and he closed his eyes. She stroked rhythmically, feeling soft skin slide over rigidity.

Presently, the tiny voice returned, said something she couldn't understand. "It is? Good," he said. "Can you have someone send it up right away?" More tinny sounds from the earpiece. "Thank you," he replied, then looked down at her once more. "There you go, little whore. Just like that. Don't stop."

His breathing became ragged, and he moaned in pleasure. His cock throbbed between her fingers. "Good," he sighed, "I'm going to-"

He twitched, and a jet of milky fluid spurted from the end of his shaft, landing in her hair, catching her off guard. She jerked aside, and the next spurt splattered on her shoulder. Thick gobs of goo welled up between her fingers and ran down her wrist. Another spurt sent a streamer of come across her breasts.

He sighed and held still, eyes closed, until he had finished. Then he opened his eyes and looked down at her. "Good girl," he said. He pulled away from her and she lost her balance, sitting heavily on the floor. The probe pushed hard into her, taking her breath away. She stared up at him with a mixture of shock, pain, shame, and desire in her eyes.

"Now it's your turn." He bent, reached into the leather case sitting beside the bed, and took out a dildo. She stared at it in horror. The vibrating egg he'd used before was bad enough, but this thing...this thing was obscene. It was made of black rubber, heavily veined and ridged, extremely realistic-looking, and it was big. The realism scared her almost as much as the size; the thought of this thing being inside her was almost too much to bear.

He twisted a knob at its base, and it began to buzz loudly. She shrank back and scooted away from him until her back bumped up against the foot of the bed.

He pressed the dildo into her hands. "Fuck yourself."

She sat frozen, staring at it.

"If you do not do as you're told, you will be punished. I said, fuck yourself."

She lowered the vibrating dildo gingerly between her legs, and touched herself lightly with the head.

"Now!" he barked.

She jumped. Without thinking, she shoved the dildo into her wet, aching pussy.

"That's better. Now fuck yourself. Hard. Don't stop until you come."

Her face burned with shame. She began moving the dildo in and out, tentatively at first. He glared at her disapprovingly, his eyes commanding her to move more quickly. She increased the tempo, forcing the dildo into her faster and harder, red with helpless, impotent shame. Her pussy clenched around it, and she could feel its texture, every ridge and vein an explosion of sensation. The powerful vibrations penetrated her, and soon she was lost in the feeling, masturbating openly in front of him.

A sharp knock came at the door. She stopped, her blood turning to ice in her veins.

"I didn't tell you to stop. Fuck yourself!"

She whimpered and obeyed. The dildo plunged in and out.

He drew on a bathrobe and left the bedroom, closing the door almost completely behind him. Her jaw ached, and the wide steel rod planted in her ass vibrated in sympathy with the dildo as she fucked herself alone and in silence. She heard Anthony's voice in the other room, thanking the bellhop for bringing up his package so quickly.

"Hmm, now let's see, about your tip," he said. "Well, I don't have my wallet on me, as you can see. So I can put your tip on the room charges, or if you prefer, I can let you watch my wife masturbate."

She gasped and froze, the dildo buried deep.

His voice came through the door. "No, I'm quite serious. She's in the other room, fucking herself with a big black dildo right now."

A pause, then a chuckle. "I thought you might." The door swung wide, and Anthony and another man, dressed in a hotel uniform, looked in at her.

Her heart skipped a beat. She stared at the bellhop-a young man, in his mid-twenties, with glasses and a nametag reading "Heath"-totally paralyzed. Time seemed to slow, and she became acutely, painfully self-aware. The weight of the come streaked in her hair, the dull ache of the silvery metal probe protruding from her ass, the slight tickle of the rivulets of wetness crawling down her wrists and over her breasts, the faint itching of dried semen on her chin, the hard ring strapped into her mouth, the steady buzzing vibration of the dildo inside her pussy, the hardness of the manacles binding her wrists together, all filled her consciousness. She heard, from far away, a long, thin wail, then realized with a start that it was coming from her.

"Does she like to be watched?" the bellhop asked, his eyes not leaving her body.

Anthony laughed. "Let's just say this is not the first time she's fucked herself in front of an audience since we've been here," he said. "So far, she has come every time. Show him, honey."

She shook her head, very slightly, eyes wide.

"Don't be shy He wants to see you come. Unless you think it would be more fun to suck him off than to masturbate for him, that is. Would you rather do that?"

"She would do that?" he asked excitedly.

"Oh, yes. She's quite good with her mouth. But it's up to her. What would you like to do, honey?"

Slowly, hands shaking, she gripped the dildo tightly and started to move. Waves of shame washed over her as she masturbated. Her eyes locked on the bellhop's, unable to look away, afraid of what she might see if she glanced between his legs, how she would feel if she saw a bulge growing there. The butterflies grew into a whirlwind in her belly, and she rammed herself with the dildo, ashamed of her own arousal. Tightness gripped her chest, her legs began to shake, and she knew with dismay that she was going to come, and that nothing could prevent it.

She held her gaze on the bellhop's eyes as the orgasm seized control. She screamed in ecstasy and contracted powerfully around the thick rubber dildo. Her entire body shook with the force of her orgasm...and for just a brief instant, right at the peak, she wondered what it would feel like to have his penis in her mouth when she came.

Then it was gone, and she felt repelled at the thought. She turned away from the men, wanting to hide her face.

"What do you think?" Anthony asked. "Was it worth it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"If we should need anything else, can I assume I can call you to take care of it?"

"Yes, sir! You can count on me."

"Good," Anthony said. "We'll discuss how to handle your tip the next time I need something. Now, if you will excuse us..."

The bellhop grinned and bobbed his head, and nearly ran into the door on his way out. Anthony turned toward his bride, curled up on the floor by the bed.

"Did that feel good?"

She whimpered wordlessly.

He knelt beside her and unbuckled the strap that held the ring in her mouth. The manacles came next; then, carefully, he withdrew the probe from her stretched anus. She quivered and sighed with relief but did not react otherwise.

"I have a present for you," he said. "But before I show it to you, you need to get cleaned up. You're completely drenched in come, and I can't exactly take you out looking like a dirty freshly-fucked slut."

She looked up at him with questions in her eyes. He offered no explanation, but instead lifted her in his arms and carried her like a child into the bathroom.

No, not like a child, she thought...like an object, a large and delicate possession. He deposited her in the enormous tub and ran the water. She moved to sit up; he placed his hand firmly on her shoulder and pushed her back. "Stay."

Not even like an object...even that wasn't quite right. More like-a pet. A pet that had to be washed, even though it didn't want to be.

He scrubbed her thoroughly with a soapy sponge, with detached precision that, as much as anything else that had been done to her so far, made her feel like a slave, something owned by him. She struggled beneath his grasp, sending water sloshing from the tub, but he held her down and continued scrubbing her. He pushed her under the water; she came up sputtering and thrashing, and he leaned over the tub and held her with one hand while he lathered her hair with the other. When he was finished, he pushed her back beneath the water again to rinse her.

After he was done, he pulled the plug to drain the water from the tub. She sat still, uncertain of what to do. His hand moved between her legs. "Are you sore?"

She shivered when his fingers touched her and nodded.

"I'm not surprised. You've been used very hard these past couple of days. Your body isn't accustomed to it yet. Wait here."

He left, and returned with a small unlabeled bottle. "This will make you feel better." He squeezed a small amount of white cream onto his fingers. "Hold still." He reached between her legs once more, and spread the cream around and inside her tortured sex. He applied more of the cream around her anus, and worked it into her with his fingers.

It did feel better. The cream cooled and soothed the burning fire in her overworked pussy and ass, making her sigh with relief. He rubbed a small amount onto her aching nipples, and she moaned as the ache faded away. "Mmm, that feels good," she murmured.

"Good." He rose and helped her stand, then dried her with a large, fluffy towel. "I have a present for you. I think you'll like it."

On the table in the living area of the suite sat a large white cardboard box, wrapped in a red silk ribbon with a large bow on top. He handed it to her and smiled. "Open it."

She took the package gingerly from his hands as if expecting it to bite her. When it failed to do so, she drew the ribbon off and lifted the top.

Inside, nestled within layers of tissue paper, was a long red dress. She lifted it out and held it up. "It's beautiful!" Suddenly and acutely aware of her own nakedness, she held it tightly against her body like a shield.

"Get dressed. I want to see how you look in it."

She backed out of the room, still covering her body with the flowing red dress, and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Several minutes passed. The door opened again, and she slipped timidly through. Anthony smiled broadly and held out his hand. "Well? Let me see!"

She walked toward him demurely, eyes downcast. The dress touched the floor behind her. It was far more formal than anything she was accustomed to; the hem swept upward in a jumble of elaborate ornamentation in the front, and the neckline plunged between her breasts. She felt simultaneously overdressed and exposed, like a Hollywood starlet on Oscar night.