I guess that the shock registered on my face. I was the prize for the winner of the draw when all I wanted to do was go to bed!
Someone handed an empty biscuit tin to me and asked me to pick out a piece of paper. I looked inside and saw what I guess were fifteen pieces of white paper, all neatly folded.
“Those contain all our names,” I was informed. “Whichever one you pick out will be the winner and gets you to himself all night.” The speaker paused before adding, “Well, not quite all night, just the hours left of it.”
I tried explaining that it would be much more fun the next day if I slept alone. No one, however, wanted to hear me whining, so I knew I had to pick out a piece of paper.
I took the tin and shook it up before asking one of the lads to hold it while I closed my eyes and felt for the winner. I heard some saying things like, “Please,” or “Me,” as I lifted the piece of paper.
I was, of course, hoping it would be the one I fancied. It wasn’t!
I announced the name “Ian,” and there was a whoop of joy from one of the guys.
Ian was relatively small and rather dull, or maybe I should say he was not the most dashing hunk I have ever come across. He was twenty and came from Devon, but although he was small, he was very muscular and regularly worked out in the gym.
He came and took my hand, saying, “Shall we,” as he led me to the bedroom.
Some of the others called out, “Lucky so and so.”
Once we were in the bedroom, he closed and locked the door before turning to me and saying, “You are so beautiful.”
I guess he must have been short-sighted.
Ian was a real gentleman who asked my permission before doing anything to me. It’s good occasionally to be treated like a lady.
Firstly, he asked if he could remove my clothes. I could hardly refuse. He started with my top by unbuttoning my blouse and gently pulling it off my shoulders and down my arms. I remembered that it had buttons on the cuffs, which meant it stuck on my hands, so he had to undo them to take it right off. He then popped my bra, which fell from my chest, revealing my small breasts, which I instinctively covered with my arms. Ian did not say anything as he undid the clip on my skirt, pulled the zip down and let it fall off me.
I felt his hands down the back of my knickers as he gave my bottom a small pinch before slipping my knickers slowly down my legs. Despite my tiredness, I must say that I found the slow way he stripped me such a turn-on. He twirled me around and asked me to place my arms down by my side. I did so, trying to be a bit coy at the same time.
He responded by saying, “Wow!” Then asked, “Why do you enjoy everything that we do to you?”
I was not sure how to answer that question. To be honest, years later, I still find it difficult to know why I enjoy a good dose of humiliation.
I replied honestly, “I am not sure; I just guess I do.”
He led me to the bed, and I sat down on it. “No!” He said, “I want you to kneel beside it so I can smack you.”
I obediently did so, raising my backside high so that he could get a good aim. I cannot remember how many smacks I received from Ian, but my bottom was red and sore when he had finished.
Ian lifted me and placed me on the bed before lying beside me. He was still fully dressed, which made me feel (and always does) very vulnerable.
He commenced to kiss me from my feet to my face. He paid proper attention to the very moist area between my legs as well as my breasts.
Then he questioned, “Do you know what we have planned for you tomorrow?”
I didn’t, but I tried a bit of humour, “Not another strip club, I hope?”
“Oh no,” he replied, “I think we plan for you to stay here all day, but we are going to give you a bath.”
“Oh,” I said stupidly, “That will be a change from the shower.”
“Not that sort of bath,” he added, “It will be a smelly one.”
“What do you mean,” I asked, intrigued.
He explained, “There is only one bath in this house, and it’s a good size. We have all heard about how you like being degraded. A few of us have seen you in action. Since we arrived, we have been using that bath as our urinal. We also added the washing-up water after tea. We hope to put you into it tomorrow and give you a golden shower.”
I admit that I was a bit shocked at this. I wondered if what Ian said was true. If it was, could I go through with it? On the other hand, something strange in me was vaguely excited at the prospect. Once again, I was unsure how to cope with my feelings adequately.
Ian brought me back to reality by saying, “You are gorgeous.” He continued, “I didn’t want to come here this weekend as I thought you would be some old fat slag. You know, the type who could not pull any other guys. When they told me you were pretty, I did not believe them. But man, you are fabulous.”
I cringe as I write the things he said. I would have said (and still do) that I was plain but not gorgeous!
He took his trousers down and asked me to give him a blow job. Being muscular, he held my head very tight, so tight I could hardly slide my mouth along his shaft. Eventually, he came and again kept me close so that his cum flowed into my mouth, causing me to gag.
Once he let me go, we both fell exhausted onto the bed, his cum freely flowing out of my mouth. Ian helped me get under the duvet before removing his T-shirt and joining me.
“I know you need to get some sleep,” he said, “So I will let you as you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. I will be happy tonight as long as I can lay here next to you.”
He was most thoughtful, and I remember feeling him caressing me as I drifted off to sleep, still wondering if I could go through with what was planned for me the next day.
At around seven, a pounding on the door woke me up. I could hear the sound of my name being called. Those outside shouted, “You have had her for long enough; now it’s our turn.”
I also remember some asking where their breakfast was. Ian produced a flimsy, almost see-through dressing gown and asked me to put it on. I did so and tied it up at the front, not that it did much to cover me.
Ian then opened the door, and I walked out to be greeted with whoops of delight by everyone there. I could also pick up the wonderful smell of cooked breakfast.
A couple of hands immediately grabbed me, and my arms were held tight behind my back. One of the quieter guys in the group stepped forward, holding what we call in the UK a Cumberland sausage. It was not your standard-size one. It was the size of a frankfurter hot dog sausage.
Someone undid my dressing gown, and it fell open, revealing my breasts and my pussy. The guy with the sausage asked if I had ever taken one before. Well, at nineteen, I had to answer “No.”
He then proceeded to rub it between my breasts and then across them and around the nipples. It was warm but not hot. As most girls will tell you, anything that rubs the nipples tends to arouse them, so, of course, they soon become firm and erect.
“Look,” one said, “She likes it.”
The statement caused a lot of merriment. The sausage was then carefully pulled to my belly button and moved around in small circles. I then had to spread my legs.
I did so, and at the same time, I had to lean back. I could feel the sausage used to stimulate my clit, and I knew that this was producing juices in my most intimate area. Then I could feel its rough skin pushed into my vagina.
Up and down, he pushed it, going faster each time.
I moaned with pleasure, and that made a few of the lads feel for my tits and ‘play’ with them. Others who were too slow rubbed or patted my backside, and one more adventurous one I could feel inserting a finger up my rectum.
Once or twice, the guy with the sausage pulled too hard, and it popped out, only to be quickly replaced. I am not sure how long it went on, but eventually, most tired of this little game, and when the sausage broke in two, they decided they had had enough.
Then, I was told it was breakfast time and made to sit at the table alone. My hands were tied to the back of the chair, and my dressing gown was pulled off my shoulders and down my arms.
Someone then produced a candle and lit it. A plate containing the sausage that had just been used on me was placed in front of me.
“Eat it,” someone told me, “or you may get a bit too warm.”
One of the boys held the candle towards my breasts. Looking back at this now, it’s funny, but I don’t think I was scared then. I had enough confidence in the lads to know they would not exceed my limits. I still feel that this is immensely important in any form of humiliation games. My limits must be respected, or severe problems will result!
A piece of sausage was placed on a fork and offered to me. At the same time, the candle came closer to my right nipple. I took a deep breath and took the sausage off the fork.
“Good girl,” I remember hearing someone say. Again, another piece was offered to me. I was a little bit slow at accepting it and could feel the heat from the candle close to my nipple once again. I rapidly ate it.
After four or five pieces, someone said, “I have an idea.”
The men went into a huddle and had a discussion, leaving me alone. Then they came back and undid my hands from the chair but still kept them tied behind my back. I was made to stand up and spread my legs. Another sausage was shoved unceremoniously up my moist pussy and thrust deep into me.
I was told to sit down again, and another candle was lit. Now, I had two guys holding the candles close to both my nipples. I was offered the sausage. I must be honest; I did gag at first. I felt the candle’s heat and then shut my eyes and took it. I chewed it as best I could, only using my teeth so as not to taste too much of my pussy juices that covered it. I swallowed hard, and there was a cheer and applause.
Someone said, “You know, we never thought you would do that.”
I looked up and added, “Neither did I.”
My hands were untied, and I was told I could clean up and get dressed while they all had breakfast.
I went and had a shower, this time without the distraction of several pairs of eyes staring at me through the window. I guess at that time in the morning, their bellies were more important than my breasts! I dried myself, put on the clothes they had laid out for me, and joined the lads again!
The dress provided for me was a tight-fitting red and polka dot type with short fluffed-up sleeves, as girls often wore in cowboy films. It was not too short, just about knee length.
Underneath, I had a matching cream bra and panty set that were rather bland to my mind anyway.
I went out, and immediately, a bowl was placed under the table where the lads were sitting. Each guy bent down and placed a few scraps into it. I was then ‘invited’ to join them, although they sat at the table, and I, of course, was under it.
Several watched me, and one said, “Remember mouth only, no hands.”
I cannot say I was too hungry following the sausage scenario, but I ate a little and was given a bowl of milk, which I did my best to drink.
Next, I had to get on with the cleaning; oddly enough, I had a lot of help. All I had to do was the washing while a couple of lads did the tidying, and another two did the drying and putting away.
When we finished, I was led into the lounge area. Here, I was told to get down on my hands and knees in front of the fire. There was a reasonably thick Chinese-type mat on the floor. I was pleased about this as it made me a bit more comfortable.
One of the young men told me, “Pull your dress up over your bum.”
As I was happy to be their slave, I did this straight away.
Someone else added, “Now pull those knickers down to your knees nice and slowly.”
I took hold of them and pulled them down. I must have done it too quickly because another voice cried out, “He said nice and slowly, not like that. Try again.”
Someone pulled them back up, and I again pulled them down using both hands as slowly as I could. “That’s better,” came a voice. “Much sexier!”
The older guy who had led the initial exploration of my person the previous day now spoke up.
“Right, you two open up her arse hole.”
I felt two pairs of hands pulling my arse cheeks apart and then a finger smearing something around my backside.
He then added, “We had another little draw this morning, and Ben won. He’s going to take you up your arsehole!”.
I shot up like a rocket from my kneeling position, surprising all the guys there.
“You are not going to take me in there, are you? I have never been used up there.”
Having someone poke about with a finger was one thing; having someone shag my bum with their penis was another. Was I ready for it? I wanted to try everything, anything. I wanted to please my friends. Could I allow them to do this? I had seconds to decide.
“Alright,” I acquiesced, calming down, “Carry on, I want to try it.”
“Good,” one exclaimed, “Now we’ll try again.”
“On your hands and knees,” I was ordered.
I complied and again felt a hand placing some solution around my anus.
Then Ben came before me and told me to look up at him, which I did.
He undid his trousers and dropped them. I could see that he was planning on enjoying himself, much more, I guessed, than I was, by the look of the bulge I could see inside his Y fronts.
He slowly took those down and suggested that I lubricate his dick with my mouth. He knelt before me, waving his manhood in front of my face.
Then he ordered, “Open your mouth,” which I did. He slid his hard erection inside, saying, “Lubricate it good and well, little lassie.”
The latter part of his order was to poke fun at my Scottish accent. I sucked and lubricated it with my mouth as best I could.
He stood up and said, “Some of you had better hold her tight.”
I felt hands take a firm grip on my legs and pull them wider apart. Others knelt next to me and held my arms while two more pulled my backside apart. I was wet with excitement. Would I enjoy this? I knew not but would find out in the next few seconds.
I then felt great searing pain as Ben commenced to push inside me. I have a tiny tight arsehole (and some say I have a tight pussy as well.) It hurt! I tried to keep quiet because I did not want to appear a wimp; however, I eventually squealed out like a little pig.
My discomfort encouraged the others to call out to their friend. “Go on, Ben.”
“You can do it, Ben.”
“Let her have it.”
“Give it to the bitch.”
“Go on, the slut needs all she can get.”
Once he had stretched me enough, he slid deep inside. I felt him pushing and pulling hard, becoming more and more aroused. My ongoing discomfort, screams and grunts of pain seemed to make him all the more excited. Eventually, I heard him let out a long moan, and I knew he had done what he intended to do.
I let out a moan, too, but more of relief than anything! He didn’t rush to withdraw. When he did, some congratulated him on what he had done.
He walked round to my head.
“Say thank you to him, you tart,” I was directed.
I looked up at him, still breathless and sore and did not say anything.
Without warning, someone grabbed my hair and, yanking it back, pulled me upright into a kneeling position.
“For not saying ‘Thank You’ to Ben, you can clean him up.”
Ben moved his by now drooping manhood in front of my face.
“Clean him,” someone ordered.
A bowl of water and a cloth were placed in front of me. I picked it up and commenced wiping around Ben’s now much-deflated prick. I paid particular attention to his balls, knowing that guys like having those stimulated. The cloth, my ministrations and the warm water soon affected him as he became erect in a very short time.
“Make it clean, Whore,” someone shouted.
It was apparent that Ben was enjoying it and obvious too that just about everyone was getting great pleasure in watching me cleaning up Ben’s cock.
At last, someone said, “Okay, Ben, you’ve had enough. Let her…
