Whore for More

I'm only nineteen. I had moved into my new place only a few months ago, right after high school graduation.

I was just sitting there on the couch, home alone, flipping through a magazine, jilling myself, when I heard a knock at my door. I got up to answer.

"Mindy Brighton?" A man asked.

There were two men. Ken dolls. Both had big smiles.

"Yes, that's me."

"You won the free cable for a year contest!"

"Ohmygosh!" I jumped up and down, clasping my hands to my jiggling breasts. "That's awesome!" Gave my best little cheerleader bounce.

"We're here to install it right now," the second man said. He and the other man held up ID badges. "If it's convenient for you."

"Oh, yes! Come right in!" I opened the door and led. "Right this way."

I was barefoot, wearing a pair of short-trimmed cut-offs, revealing my baby-soft thighs. My silky, pink, midriff-baring crop-top revealed my cleavage. I have B-breasts, but perky, with half-inch, erect nipples held aloft by puffy areolas. They showed nicely through the sheer top. It literally had the words, "Fuck Me" stenciled over the tits. Hey, I was just lazing around the house.

"Your timing is perfect," I said, swinging my hips and throwing a wink over my shoulder as I led the way upstairs. "I just finished my office temp term and really need a distraction to keep from going stir crazy."

My daintiest VS snatch patch was lying on the stairs. I bent over at the waist to pick them up. "Oopsy." I laughed. "Wasn't expecting company."

Since I was not wearing panties and my shorts were cut to a few ragged threads at the crotch, I was giving them both the gynocologist's view of my shaven twat. I was running a river and could feel my girl goo drizzling down my inner thigh. Stopping and doubling over so abruptly on the stairs put my pussy practically in the leader's nose. Hope he got a good whiff. My honey hole smells sweet as syrup.

I straightened, turned, then held the panties up with a little jiggle to both it and my hips.

I'm 5'4", about 95 lbs, with a tiny waist that gives me switchback curves. I have sparkling blue eyes and thick blonde hair with lively body that ends up about mid-waist, depending on how much I curl it. Today, I had given it an easy wave, nothing fancy, but one of my best fuck-me looks. I hadn't gone with much makeup, being a day off, but I always love to rouge my lips. It makes my pretty face pop.

"What kind of movie package would you like?" asked the lead installer. "You can have anything you want."

"Oh, I'd love to have the Playboy channel and Hustler too, if you don't mind." I giggled.

"Sounds good," the leader said, with just a hint of chuckle.

Having turned the corner of the landing, I spied him grinning, glancing over his shoulder at his buddy. His buddy fluttered his eyebrows and licked his lips.

I continued swinging my hips down the short hall to my room, then sat on the bed, curling my slender legs beside me. "It's right here," I said, gesturing toward the television on the wall at the foot of the bed. I scissored, rubbed and kicked my bare legs a little, giving them a good show. I'm very flexible, and can point my toes enough to make my legs spears. I even twisted about for the remote, just to give them another peek at my tight little ass and cock trap.

"I just can't wait," I said, "to have something better than magazines to masturbate to."

"So much better," said the lead guy, checking behind the TV in glances, between checking me out.

I rolled to my stomach, propping my chin on my elbows and kicking up my pointed toes. It gave my back a sweet arch. My calves bulged with girly curvature.

"I hope you boys know what you're doing, double-teaming a girl in her bedroom like this." I giggled, then showed them my glowing smile with all my glistening pearly whites.

"Oh, we know just how to take care of you, miss," said the lead guy. "Now, Greg."

With that, the two jumped me. The first grabbed my wrists and the second, Greg, with a rope he whipped out of his satchel, quickly bound them.

"Oh!" I squealed. I flutter-kicked my legs and wriggled my bottom, but with little effect against their strong hands and arms.

They were forceful but not harsh. Their grips were too tender to bruise. My tiny wrists were almost too small for them to squeeze.

"Flip her over, Skip," said Greg, to the leader.

He did, dragging me up by my bound wrists, then tossing my back to the bed.

"Oh!" I cried again, at the brusque treatment.

Greg quickly dropped trow, skivvies too, then jumped onto the bed behind my head, my bound arms under him. His cock was filling, looking positively enormous when it flopped down over my face. Lying right between my eyes, against my nose and with the head brushing my lips, I had double vision of the best-smelling man shaft I've ever enjoyed. The tip was already dribbling pre-cum that drizzled into my open mouth and onto my tongue.

Skip wasted no time, seeing my upper body pinned. I kicked up my pretty, painted, pointed toes a little, but he soon grabbed me by the ankles to restrain my legs too. I wriggled my bottom in struggle as he grabbed and tugged at my shorts. Wriggling only helped him peel them off. I had not buttoned the top button and the half-drawn zipper slipped open easily to let the shorts slide over my curvy hips.

With a swipe, Greg popped the two buttons that held my top.

Both men gasped a little on sight of my pretty little titties. The girls were fully perky now, areolas hard and blood red.

Skip slid in easily. I gasped a little as his man root bottomed out against my cervix, his head kissing my inner, lusty lips in lewd assault.

"Oh!" I cried. "I'm not on the pill! You'll get me pregnant!"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," Greg said. He grabbed his own briefs off the coverlet and stuffed them into my mouth. "Breed her," he said, to Skip.

"With pleasure."

My eyes went wide with that. They filled with tears at Skip's hard and fast pounding. My sinuses were filled with delicious man scent from the briefs in my mouth.

Skip wasn't quite a Minute Man, more like a thirty-second man before he was jetting baby juice straight into my unprotected womb. She slurped it up like a good girl, though it was way too quick for me to cum too.

Skip panted hard, pumping the last of his seed with a few more dying thrusts.

"My turn," Greg said.

The two switched places, my arms now pinned under Skip's ass, his glistening wet cock now my double-vision view.

"Mmmph!" I cried out, through the underwear gag. Greg was rock hard and speared little sis in one stab.

Holding my ankles against his shoulder, he rammed into me like driving a stake. All the gushy girl goo, combined with Skip's man juice, made my tight slot slicker than squirt, and Greg attacked it with fervor, beating into my meat with his. Slap, slap, slap went his balls against my pink asshole, like knocking at the door.

Greg gave me a good puss fucking, holding onto me as I writhed through one, then two orgasms. I saw his face turning red. Hell, his whole body was turning red. I knew I had to return the favor quick less he bust his balls trying to blow.

So I squeezed down on his cock, giving it a good vaginal massage-stroking like the one he was giving my G-spot.

One, two, three more pumps like that and he was blowing his wad into me.

The force of the stream made me cry out again. Squirt, squirt, squirt I felt, driving me to my third orgasm while it simultaneously drove Skip's stallion stick to full attention.

The look on Greg's face said it was causing him real pain to be gripped like that, but I kept milking the cum out of his cock with my cunt muscles, sis sucking every last drop of seed she could squeeze from his balls.

He popped out, the joy juice following, dribbling out of my cock eater to dribble over my asshole. I was still cumming, my labia lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. My legs quivered in unrelenting O.

Skip spared me no break though, and he was in to the hilt again before I even realized my rapists had switched.

"Mmmph!" I cried out again, through the saliva-slopped shorts. I could have spit them out anytime but it was an added turn-on that my rapists wanted to silence my girly girl voice and high-pitched screams.

Skip's fuck muscle felt even bigger and harder this trip down Mindy's rabbit hole. My cunt muscles were still contracting, stroking him, making me even tighter and more fuckable than before.

He popped out for a sec, having stroked too far, and I squirted. One, two, three hard streams, like little fountains. They arced upward to spray Skip's washboard abs. The girl juice dribbled down to drip off that big fuck pole and its rubber-ball-bouncy, bitch-busting balls.

"Fuck!" Skip said. "I've never seen a bitch squirt like that, outside of porn."

"Bitch is hornier than hell," Greg agreed. "She needs breeding."

"Well she's gonna get it," Skip said.

With that, he plowed my pussy in earnest. Having cum once already, he held out a lot longer the second time around, stroking in and out of my love tunnel through at least three more mind-bending orgasms, though I have to admit, it seemed more like one extended thrashing. My cunt cream lathered into a froth.

This time he held off climaxing inside me and brought it up to my face.

Greg regained his position at my open slot, refilling sis with his hardening member.

Skip said, "Suck it like you love it, bitch. If I feel teeth I'll bust them all out."

He pulled the underwear from my mouth, then pushed his cock in immediately, without even giving me time to flex my jaw. I looked up at him with my begging baby blues while he fucked my face. About five strokes was all it took before I felt jism filling my throat.

He pulled out and bitch-slapped my face with his cum-coated cock, painting my cheeks with dollops of sperm. I swallowed, then licked his shaft as he smeared spunk across my pretty lips.

Meanwhile, Greg was working his magic inside my nether mouth. He felt stone-hard again, grating against my G-spot with that ribbed wonder of his. His second time around felt even better than the first, giving me a longer, slower reaming than that urgent pistoning of his first fuck. Before long, I was writhing in ecstacy again, moaning from the impending release he built within me. But just as I was about to cum, he popped out.

That made me squirt on him. One long jet followed by a half dozen little after-squirts as he bitch-slapped my clit with that amazing third arm.

I tried to raise my arms to hold him off, and even pinch my knees together, such was the sensitivity of my slapped sex.

Skip caught my arms and pinned them right back down to the bed, his dripping member still poking at my face.

Greg pried my legs apart and shoved himself back inside. It took a hard push to punch through sissy's contracting muscles, but he made little sis take it, ready or not. His presence inside her kept her cumming and stroked him off that much quicker too. I felt a blast of jizz spray paint my inner cum-eater.

Fuck-stupid, heaven rolled my eyes into my head. I don't remember him pulling out, only the unending spasms of my entire body flopping on the sheets.

Skip grabbed me by the hair and turned my face toward him.

"Listen up, bitch," he said. "You belong to us now. You're our personal whore. We're moving into your house. You'll cook, clean and shop for us. We'll fuck you whenever we want. We never raped you. You always asked for it. Hear me?" He shook my head a little by the hair.

I barely remember nodding. My eyes were still rolled back in my head from the prolonged orgasm made blissful by Skip's commanding tone. His words were like a loving embrace to me and I just wanted to curl up and sleep the dream.

Skip shook my head by the hair again.

"You are now our personal sex slave," Greg said. "We'll call you Whore because that's what you are to us. That's what you will act like. That's what you will want to be. That's what you will be for us at all times. You'll dress like a whore around the house. You'll dress your sexy best when we take you out. Any life you had before now is over. We're your life now."

Skip shook my head a little roughly again. "Understand?"

I nodded. I couldn't help a little smile as I thought of their words. Loving words. Possessive words. Authoritative words. All things I sorely needed. Just like I sorely needed the sensation of sexual fulfillment they had just blessed me with.

"Then repeat it," Skip said, adding a little rough shake to rattle my addled brain back.

"I am your whore," I said. "My name is Whore. I will whore for you 24/7, cook, clean and shop for you. I will present myself as your personal sex slave at all times. I won't try to escape. I want you to rape me, breed me. I am your bitch, always in heat. I want this life with all my heart and soul. Pleasing you is all I need to please me. My body belongs to you."

"Good," Skip said. Then to Greg, "Ready to breed the bitch again?"

He, like Skip, had been stroking his cock the entire time. "After you."

Mornings, I got into the routine of getting up first, brushing, putting on my makeup, starting breakfast, then going back to bed to service my masters. I roused them with cock sucking and stroking, then catted for a fuck. It didn't take much. Their members were swollen with piss, and so ready to pop puss. My first cream filling of the day.

After breakfast, one or both often fed hungry little sis some semen again while I helped them dress.

Forenoons I kept myself busy housekeeping, grocery shopping and fixing lunch until 12.

They took turns at nooners. They would find me home, dressed in a slutty little costume, skin-tight mini-dress, shorts, mini-skirt or lingerie, ready and waiting with their favorite lunch. Puss always whipped up a sweet dessert for them. Love it when they ate dessert first.

Evenings I would greet them with a passionate kiss at the door after their long day at the office. Always dressed in something different, from horny office slut to cave girl. Whatever their fantasies, I took notes and made good.

They bought me no end of sexy clothing and shoes. My closet filled with stilletos, pumps, platforms and spiky sandals. I often spent the afternoon hours in girl time, trying on outfits. I always fixed my hair and makeup just for them. I often rubbed myself to orgasm just looking at myself, like a living fuck doll, in those slutty clothes and heels.

They paid the rent. I told the landlord that I subletted. I had neither want nor need for anything. They gave me a charge card for purchases. I dared not abuse it. If I did, they would spank. Okay, sometimes I pushed the envelope a little just to get some bareass-up lap time. They made it hurt so good. I almost always gushed. After an afternoon alone, I was so ready.

After doing the dinner dishes, I would generally curl up between them or lounge across their laps like a good pet on the sofa to watch TV. They were not cable installers. Their Ids were fake. They were just low-level suits at some faceless, high-stress, mega-conglomerate. They put in their time in the downtown high rise, then returned home to fill their cum dumpster, taking out their frustrations on little sis's adoring mouth.

She was always drooling, happy to help.

I loved their dirty talk, making their whore wetter with their words. They treated me like a princess, always gentlemanly to my little girl airs. Every time I screamed, "Fuck!" during sex, they would swat my ass for misbehavior. As punishment, it was a fail and they knew it, merely encouraging me to fail again and again.

Weekends, the boys got their exercise on me. They spun me into every position possible, screwed me anal and DP'd. Those long sex sessions always sent me into extended orgasm mode, often leaving me writhing on the sheets or floor for several minutes until my brain came back enough to clean the cum off their cocks. Mindy's whore lip service only aggravated them into fucking me full again and again.

A month went by this way, then two and three. By the end of the third month, they began to privately question their virility. My belly had not blown up like a balloon. All their persistent breeding efforts failed. I overheard a quiet discussion to that effect one evening as I delivered popcorn to them at the sofa.

I sat down between them, already changed into a lacy, nude-colored teddy for bed. I crossed my legs. Masters always loved seeing me cross my legs. Masters loved daydreaming about what lie between, then eventually prying my thighs apart for their own private taste treat.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I could read their expressions like the open books they were. This time it was little-boy concern.

They looked to each other. As usual, Skip went first.

He cleared his throat. "Um, we've been curious," he said hesitantly. "Why you haven't gotten pregnant. I mean, it's cool and all. We love fucking your fucking hot body like you are. And we'd love to keep you just like this forever, our little cock-hungry fuck toy. But ... are you on Depo?"

Depo Provera, a long-term birth control drug, taken by injection, could last three months.

I shook my head, showing them my sweetest, all-innocence expression.

"Are you ...?" Greg let the question hang, expecting me to fill in infertile.

I shook again.

As their faces drained of color, I started laughing. Just a titter at first, but the give-me-air belly laugh eventually took over.

"What?" they both asked.

I got control of myself. I reached for their cocks and started stroking.

"You two are morons," I said.

"Huh?" from each.

"Did you really believe those letters went to the wrong mailbox?"

They looked at each other.

This is where I need to start over, at the real beginning to this story.

My mother was a real whore. No, not the streetwalking type. She was class. She got paid well, exclusive clientele, but she really enjoyed her job.

From my first memory on, mom had boyfriends. They only dropped by, meet and greet for me, then off to her bedroom for their little "date." Gone in an hour, overnight, or the next day. Some I saw again, most not.

By the time I was ten I had figured out what was going on. I confronted mom about it, asked for the whole truth, and she gave it to me.

She loved men. She needed men. She wanted men and the way they made her feel. Plus, the pay was good. Very little work, lots of free time for me and no strings. No daddy to support. She said she didn't know who my daddy was and didn't care.

For my eighteenth birthday present, I asked mom for Rob. No idea what his real name was, it didn't matter. I wanted him to be my first John. I wanted to follow in mommy's footsteps.

Mom was stunned and guarded in her response at first, but listened as I made my case. Rob was a regular that mom adored. She always seemed rejuvenated after their meetings. Like he had made a new woman out of her.

Their sex was loud, mom screaming his name, "Fuck me!", "Oh, God!" and just screaming in general with his attentions. I gathered it was pretty good. If it was that good with her, I wanted him to be the one to break me in.

She relented after a few weeks and lined it up. Rob was cool with it. He admitted to admiring me. By mom's laying down of the law, it would be the first, last and only time I would see him.

He wore a condom and took it slow. Mom sat in the next room, outside the cracked door.

Ohmygod was she right. He was incredible. The man was not only easy on the eyes, he was a joy in the toy box. I broke my own hymen with one of mom's dildos the week before, to wipe the pain obstacle from my first real sex, so it was slow good.

He was big, long, hard and knew how to use a tool. Little sis soaked the sheets. I screamed some too. By the time he was through, I was ready to begin my new profession.