Nightclub

The disgusted girl finally speaks, "Rory! We're going! Now! And you!" I hear her footsteps approach, her heels clicking on the pavement. I turn my head and I can see her feet, but I cannot bring myself to look up at her. She speaks to me, "You are human filth! You let them do this to you! Nobody made you do this! You're worse than the men. You're a disgusting pig! You deserve to be fucked like this, in an alley! I hope you wind up in a dumpster!" Then she turns and walks away. I hide my head, press my forehead against the rough asphalt. I hear a few leave with her, but I can't tell how many.

I can hear you speaking a little way off. It sounds like you're on the phone. I lift my head from my arms to look. You are. You say goodbye to someone and turn off the phone and come back to me. You smirk down at me.

"Well she was right about one thing, you are a pig. No question about that. Do you agree?"

I try to say, Yes, but the panties muffle my voice. You chuckle and crouch down. You grab my hair and lift my head and pull the lacey cloth from my mouth, "What was that?"

"Yes Sir," I say.

"Yes what?"

"Yes Sir, I'm a pig."

"Mmmm, yes indeed you are," You lay your hand on the soft, taut flesh of my ass. It feels heavy and warm and strong. I shiver with the pleasure of your touch. I feel it slide down, between my open legs. I feel your fingers slide up the slick lips of my pussy. I moan.

"Do you like being called a pig, slut?"

"Yes," I confess, "I do. I like being called a pig."

"That's because in your heart, you know what your are, don't you? You've always known, haven't you? You just needed me to show you."

"Yes Sir." My voice is a strained squeak. Your hand continues to pleasure me, your first two fingers deftly rubbing my clit while your thumb slips into my cunt, so wet and silky. The soft muscles close in on your finger, offering gentle resistance, almost suckling it. My breath is heavy and ragged. I want to beg you to fuck me right there and I struggle to remain silent.

You hold your phone in my field of vision. I can see the lens of its camera, big and black. "I want to film this," you say, "I want to record your abject humiliation. What do you think of that?"

"Oh Sir," I whimper, unable to speak further. I think about where a video might end up, who might see it. Anyone might see it. Everyone might see it. Everyone would know what I am, the things I did. My life could be ruined. I feel a knot twist deep in my belly at the thought of it. It could be a complete abdication of my life. I would be yours if you did this. You would hold it over me for the rest of my life. You could make me do anything you wanted. Anything.

"What was that, cunt? Would you rather we all just go home? Have you decided that you deserve a bit of dignity, after all?" Your hand slips away from my pussy and I cannot help a little wail of disappointment. You trace your finger up my back, and I moan again at the sensation, my skin tingling at your touch, feeling the wet trail cool and dry.

"Please," I gasp, "Don't stop, please Sir. The camera. Do it. Film it. I want it."

You make a rich, throaty noise of pleasure, and you hold the camera up. I look at it for a moment and then look away.

"So tell me, slut. What are you? What do you deserve?"

"I'm worthless trash, Sir. Warm meat for men to fuck. I deserve to be fucked and used by men for their pleasure, and then thrown away like garbage." I stare at the pavement. I can scarcely believe the words that rush through my mind and fall from so easily my lips. I humiliate and degrade myself for you. Nor can I forget the audience I've attracted, the men, the strangers--I'm no longer even sure how many--waiting to shove their cocks into me, and now the camera, and whomever you decide should see me. I tell them, too. I tell them all.

And then you present your hand to my lips. I open my mouth and suckle your fingers, lick them clean. I can taste the musky flavour of my own arousal on your hand. And when you've decided I've cleaned them well enough, you wipe the remaining wetness on my cheek, and speak again.

"Tell me, cunt, do you think that garbage like you deserves to hold its head up above the ground?"

I look at the asphalt. It is dry and rough. My knees and elbows are already stinging. But you are right. My head belongs on the ground, my face to the earth. "No, Master," I say quietly, and I match my position to my words. I turn my head and press my cheek to the hard ground. I see you above me, holding the camera over my face.

"Give me your hands, cunt. I'm going to tie them behind your back."

I have to shift my position further, widen my knees, rest weight of my body onto my shoulders. My neck is bent uncomfortably, my face pressed against the asphalt. My nipples, hard and sensitive, touch the ground and I sigh. You grab my arms and pull them together roughly, without any thought to my comfort. I feel you tie my wrists together, tight. The material feels thin, lacey. My panties.

I feel more helpless and exposed than I ever have in my life. And I am so ashamed. I've consented to this at every step, to being stripped naked, offered to strangers. I knelt down and sucked the cock of two men who happened by. I put my face on the gound. I raised my naked ass in the air and offered myself to any man who would put a cock in me. I am a slut. I am garbage. Tears spring to my eyes, and my breath shudders. And yet I am achingly horny. I crave to feel the men there grab me and take me and use me, to make me cry out until my voice is hoarse, to pass me from one to the other until they are all spent inside me. And most of all I want you. I want to feel your boot on my neck and your spittle in my face. I want to taste your come and have it in all my holes. I want you to grab my hair and shove your cock into my ass, to take your pleasure from me and give none back in return. I want the pain of your presence to conquer me, to consume me. I want to beg you for my own pleasure, to plead with you.

I see you stand back up, into my field of vision and tower over me, recording my humiliation. You look in my eye and smile. I'm equally horrified and excited at the thought that perhaps you've read my mind.

"You were wrong about what you deserve, cunt. You do not deserve to be fucked. A pig like you doesn't deserve to be fucked at all."

I feel a new, cold horror creep upon me. Would you leave me, now? Like this? Desperate and unsatisfied? "No, no, please..." I hear my own voice, whimpering, pleading, "Sir, please..." I hear one of the guys behind me laugh, nervously.

"No? You think you do deserve a big, fat, cock up your wet cunt?"

"Please, Sir, oh please," I beg, nearly weeping, "I don't deserve it. I know I don't. But, please Sir, please! I want it so badly, please" I'll do anything you ask, anything you want, Sir, please."

"Do you think these men here should kneel on the bare ground to stick their cocks into your cunt, cunt?"

I'm confused, lost in desperate heat. I nearly weep in agonized frustration. Then my dress, I see it in your hand, a crumpled ball. You let the ball fall open. "My dress," I plead, "Use my dress to cover the ground. Please, please, Sir."

You step outside my field of vision. I feel a waft of lightly blown air cool the wetness between my legs, and then the material of the dress tickles at my calves, my clothing a mat for men's knees, so they can fuck me undirtied by the ground.

And then your voice, full of contempt and amusement, "She's all yours, guys."

And then the first one, oh god, the first man. I hear the jangle of his belt, and I feel his presence behind me. He puts his hand on the cheek of my ass and I moan, helpless. And I feel him press his cock up against my eager pussy and I moan again.

"You want it, slut?" he asks. His voice is mean and taunting.

"Oh," I whimper. I had always liked men who talk dirty, and now, stripped of all irony or playfulness, I like it even more. I feel a surge of arousal. I'm powerless. If he got up and walked away, I would beg him, and beg the others. I beg him now, and I can hear the edge of pathetic desperation in my voice, "Oh yes, please, oh please, I want it. I want it."

"Bitch!" he says. He pushes my ass down, to give himself better access. My knees slip wider apart, grinding roughly on the asphalt. And then he pushes his cock in. I moan, feel him sink into me, feel him fill me. He grips my hips and starts to fuck me. I gasp with each thrust, desperately seeking my own pleasure, nearly powerless to reach it. He is in control over my body. His hands grab at my hips, moving me where he wants. He shoves his cock into me, his rhythym picking up, chasing his own orgasm. I moan, voicing a mixture and frustration. He's so close to where I need him to be, so close. He's fucking me harder, now, shoving my body into the hard ground, grunting with the effort of it. My pussy makes wet noises, his flesh slaps against mine. With a groan he slows. A moment later he comes, going still for a moment, gripping his fingers deep in the soft flesh of my hips.

And then he pulls out and I feel so empty, still desperately craving the feeling of a man inside me, frustrated, aching for release. "More," I whimper, "Please more.." even as I feel the presence of another man behind me, hear another buckle loosen. I am passed off to the next man to fuck.

He slides his cock into me without ceremony, only a groan of pleasure. "Jesus you're a sweet pussy!" he sighs as he begins to piston in and out. He is soon moving quickly, shoving himself into me with no more concern for my pleasure than the first guy. I'm just a pussy for him to fuck. Why should he care what garbage like me wants, though I squirm and try to control my pleasure with my breath and moans.

He shifts a little and there it is. He's found it, sliding his cock just where I need it. "Yes!" I cry, "YES! YES! Like that! OH! OH!" I'm so close, so close to the brink. My voice rings in the alley. People will hear from the street but I don't care. I want only to come. But before I do he pulls out from me. He gasps and I feel semen fall on to my ass and back and start to cool and drip. I'm gasping, nearly weeping with frustrated pleasure as a third man kneels down behind me. My pussy aches, and I can feel wetness dripping between my thighs.

He slaps my ass, hard enough to sting. "Shut up, cunt!" he says. I bite my lip. He grabs my ass and lifts me. He's taller than the other two. He grabs the cheeks of my ass and kneads them before taking me, enjoying my soft flesh. I sigh and he slaps me again, hard enough that I cry out. "I said shut up!" I shut my eyes and my mouth.

Finally he puts his cock where I need it so badly. I feel the heat and shape of the head press at my hole, and then he shoves it in, hard, until his belly pushes against my backside. He's bigger than the other two. The force of his movement shoves my whole body forward, pushing my face and shoulders against the pavement. I cannot help a muffled cry from my throat, almost a growl, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

He begins to fuck me roughly, fast and hard, holding me above my hips, his large hands around my waist, pulling me back against him. I'm a ragdoll for him to fuck, a toy, a warm, wet thing to stick his cock into. He grunts a little each time he pistons into me, his hips slapping against my ass. My pussy is so wet, it slurps his cock noisily. He's hitting me right where I need it, right there, and I can feel my body edging closer, closer, so close. But then, pushing deep into me, he pauses and shifts position. He rises a little, angling himself above me. His hands press down on me. One hand slides up my back, to my shoulder, the other to the crook of my waist and my leg. He fucks me like that, shoving me down into the pavement, ploughing me. My knees slide further apart. I cry out, pleasure given a sharp edge of pain. And then he slows, drawing his cock slowly out, and back in with tantalizing deliberation. A few slow pumps and he shudders, his cock spasms inside me, spurting come. With final gasp he draws out of me. I feel come fall as far as my shoulder, my hair.

I'm gasping, crying, "More, please, oh please, more, more.."

"Listen to the little cunt beg for it," I hear your voice, behind me. Then your hand is in my hair, pulling me up to my knees and then to my feet. It hurts and I cry out, struggling to get my feet under me. You do not relent until I am standing, and then you pull my head back, force me to look up at the camera you hold before me. "Did you come slut? Tell it to the camera."

"No," I snivel, "No, please I want to please."

You hand off the camera to one of the guys, and then your hand is on my tit, filling your hand with my soft flesh, and I moan. You pull at my nipple, pink and round like a gumdrop. You pull and twist, pull and shake, sending electric shots of pain and pleasure through me, and I whimper.

"You like that, pig?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh god yes!"

From your pocket you draw a pair of wooden clothespins. "Oh god, yes!" I gasp, "Yes, please! Please!" You pin the clips, one to each nipple. They sting sharp.

And then you're unbuckling your pants. My mouth waters in anticipation. You pull my head down, forcing me to bend at the waist, pressing my cheek against your half-hard cock. It's so warm against my cock. The pins make me hyper-aware of my tits swaying underneath me. You grab your cock and shove it into my mouth. I suck it eagerly, craving the taste of you.

"Get it good and wet, pig. Get it real slick. It'll be going in your pretty, little ass.

My lips slide up and down the shaft of your cock. You control the rhythm, your strong hand in my hair, clenched tight against my scalp, directing me. I press my tongue against the shaft, slurp and suck greedily, letting saliva drip from my lips, wetting you. I relish the salty flavour of your skin. I feel your cock stiffen and grow in my mouth and I moan, thrumming it with lips. I ache to feel you inside me. The man holding your cell phone comes around to the side, getting a better angle to see your use of me, to see you face-fuck me, to see my aching tits swing heavily underneath me.

The bulbous head of your cock presses against the back of my throat, and then you pull my head forward, sliding your cock in, cutting off my air. You pull until my nose presses against your belly. My eyes water, my body convulses, demanding air, but you are merciless, holding me tight as my throat tries to swallow your cock, milking it with its slick grip.

You moan just a little, almost a grunt, and then pull me off, gasping. You whirl me around like a plaything and pull me close, one arm around my waist, pulling my hips against yours, the other over my shoulder. I can feel your cock against my backside, pressing and sliding against the soft, fatty cheek of my ass. Your hand grabs my tit. You twiddle the clip between two fingers, piercing me with jabs of pain.

Your voice is soft and low in my ear, "Tell me, slut, when that bitch said you'd wind up in a dumpster, how did that make you feel?"

I gasp. My eyes grow wide. My belly feels like a hollow pit. If I lie, will you know it? But if I confess the truth, where will it lead? But I cannot lie. My body has already answered. My face and chest flush, my pussy gushes. I can smell it, and you can, too. Your other hand slides down between my legs, fingers slipping between the tender folds, so slick. You smile. You know the answer to your question, but I cannot speak the words.

I feel your cock pressing between the cheeks of my ass, seeking the tight bud. It feels huge, far too big. "No answer?" You pull my hair, yanking my head back, and shove your fingers up my pussy in a single moment. I cry out, pleasure given a sharp edge of pain. And then you press your cock up against my tight bud.

I stare at the camera, filming you take me. The man holding it, the man who fucked only moments ago, is nearly drooling. I wail, trying to stay relaxed as you sink your cock into me. You fill me, invade my poor body. Both of your hands are working, the one over my tit pulling and toying with the clip pinching the nipple, sending electric shots of pain through me, even as the other slides into my pussy, your thumb pressing and teasing the clit. And me, tied and helpless, flesh pressed into your hands, soft meat to fuck.

You groan and start to piston your cock, sliding it in and out of my ass, going in deeper with each thrust. You use your hand at my pussy for leverage, pulling me against you, mixing the pain of your inward thrust with delicious pleasure. Your other hand slides away from my tit, around my back to grab at the nape of my neck, to push me down and hold me in position. Your hand feels so big, so strong. You pull me back against you, rough and fast and I cry out. It hurts, but you hardly care. You're no longer fingering me any more. You've clasped your hand to my hip, the better to move my body where you want it. You use me for your pleasure, make me your thing.

The man with the camera crouches to get below me, to capture my humiliation from the best possible angle. I look into it and imagine the shot, bent over the camera, my mouth open, shoulder pulled back, my tits swinging, capped by clothes-pins, roughly fucked in the ass. Your pace quickens, grows in urgency. Your hips slam against mine making a loud smacking noise. I cry out. My voice has grown hoarse, my throat sore. Your hands grip me tightly at the neck and on my hip. You pound me until my vision starts to darken and sparkle, and my head feels light. I can barely stand, held up by you. And then you grab my hair, yank my head up. Your pace slows, pumping deep, long strokes. And then you grunt and I feel your cock spasm.

And then you pull out. Again I feel so empty, and still I haven't come.

"On your knees, bitch."

I go to my knees. It feels almost like home. You come around to face me.

"Clean me."

Your cock is filthy, but I obey without hesitation. I sink to another low, eagerly cleaning my own filth from your cock. When you decide I'm done you push my head off and wipe yourself on my hair.

"You haven't come, have you pig?"

A sob escapes my throat and I shake my head. Your hand is swift, punishing me.

"With your voice, cunt."

"Sorry Sir, sorry!" I babble, "I haven't come, Sir."

"You'd better get to work then. The car will be around in a minute. If you haven't come by then, you don't get to come along." You gesture the other two men with your hand and they come around to stand behind you.

And so I put on another show for the you and the three men. The one still holds your phone, recording every instant. I spread my knees and masturbate while you watch me. I feel so pathetic, so exposed, but god, oh god, I want it so bad. My hand is electric and a make a muffled moan the moment I touch my clit. It feels so big and so sensitive. I close my eye and begin to play, my breath picking up, but your voice interrupts.

"None of that, cunt! Open your eyes and look at the camera!"

I do. I gaze into the unblinking eye and perform for everyone who might see. My fingers rub my clit, moving faster, finding the spot I need so badly. My voice hitches with little moans. I grab at my tit and toy with one of the pins, mingling pain in with the pleasure, giving it a sharp edge that heightens the sensation. My voice rings out. I squeeze both tits together so that I can tease both clips at once, rubbing my clit hard and fast. And then the world lights up. My body shudders and I cry out, loudly. A car has turned into the alley, its headlight flooding the alley. It is like the light of heaven as I come.