Lapdancing Girlfriend

***In Memory of

Doccis

, a great writer with an even greater imagination. The previous Chapters can be found on Doccis's Literotica page***

Author's Note: It is recommended to read the previous chapters of this story if you have not done so already to better understand the storyline and characters...

*

Jen's mind had been focused on nothing but sex since she had arrived home from her trip to Los Angeles. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, unable to fixate upon any one thought for barely a second before another thought intruded in to her consciousness. The last week had been something beyond her imagination, completely unbelievable—flying out to DSA headquarters and being fucked by Tim on the plane; finger-fucked by Mr. DeWight several times throughout the week; her photo-shoots where she had not only masturbated in front of the camera, but fucked a male porn star, as well as her own sexy assistant! Her mind then flooded with flashbacks of her gangbang, replaying the events of being fucked over and over in the pussy, mouth, and ass by the five male porn stars.

And it was not just her mind betraying her, as each memory causing her body to react as well—heat building up between her legs, her pulse racing through her system, her breath so shallow she could barely catch it before another wave of desire enveloped her, and her breasts, aching and sore, yearning for a man's touch.

Try as she might, Jen could not stop the sordid cascade of thoughts popping into her head.

Currently, her mind centered around the FBI agent, Nick Gastinov. He had been caught by Mr. DeWight in her house as he checked on the surveillance equipment. Even though he was more of a computer geek than actual field agent, his training had kicked in and it was only his quick thinking—monopolizing on Mr. DeWight's mistake in his identity—which had saved her cover. Unfortunately, her ruse was now even more complicated, Nick now playing as her fiancé. And as part of that ruse, he had made sure to end up fucking her.

His argument was compelling. Knowing Mr. DeWight had bugged her room in his mansion, the FBI agent had been easily able to convince her to act the full role as his fiancée. And to her horror, she had reveled in the intimacy, not only enjoying the sex, but having multiple incredible orgasms with each violating thrust of the agent's cock inside her.

Once more tried to push her thoughts in a different direction; however, once again as one scene exited, another quickly filled that void.

Suddenly her mind was filled with images of the shower she had taken before flying back to Oregon. She thought of Mr. DeWight joining her in the spacious and extravagant shower area, fucking her until she could barely walk.

And again, she had enjoyed every single thrust!

Counting of the number of times she had sex this past week, her mind reeled at realizing she had been fucked over a dozen times—by at least eight different men! Not to mention masturbating or getting off from somebody else touching her at least another half dozen times!

The past week was almost surreal, a sick and twisted dream where she had been the main character of a demented porn movie, sexually used over and over in a world where lust and sex dominated her entire life.

Unfortunately, the sobering truth was it was all too real—sex DID dominate her life now. As a Divine Silk Attractions spokesmodel, she was the living breathing embodiment of all DSA stood for in adult entertainment—sex, pornography, strip clubs, and prostitution—and due to her contract, her body was no longer her own. It did not matter if she had not entered this world willingly, being drugged and seduced into signing the illicit contract, it ultimately gave DSA full rights to her body. She could no longer refuse, as balking at anything she was asked to do could result in her being sued by the company for all she and Dan was worth.

The stark reality was she was now a highly paid whore, a porn star expected to have sex when and where she was told.

And to compound such a horrific reality, her body was enjoying it!

Muddying the waters even further was her agreement to be an informant for the FBI, investigating Mr. DeWight for a multitude of crimes including slavery, murder, extortion, and rape. It had been through this agreement Jen had grudgingly agreed to accept with her role as a DSA spokesmodel, her position granting her access to areas of DSA the FBI had not been able to access with their own agents.

The combination of her DSA contract and agreeing to spy for the FBI had her trapped in an overwhelming pit of sexual exploitation. And she had to reluctantly acquiescence, as it allowed her to move around the company unnoticed, able to keep her eyes and ears open—while keeping her legs open as well—for anything incriminating Mr. DeWight of his crimes.

While most of her thoughts centered on sex and her sordid predicament, a small part of her mind continuously thought about Dan, her true love and actual fiancé. Dan had grown up with Mr. DeWight, being verbally and mentally abused throughout his life. Dan had thought that hellish part of his life had been over; however, he was once again reunited with his lifetime rival, having to sit back as his rival sexually abused and debased his own fiancée right before him!

It would have been one thing for her to be undercover and Dan unaware of her degradation, but unfortunately, he too had agreed to becoming an informant for the FBI. In a twisted set of circumstances, seeming a good idea at the time, she and Dan had kept their relationship a secret from Mr. DeWight. The FBI now encouraged the ruse, as it gave her and Dan the ability to spy on different aspects of DeWight's company. Dan—being a childhood 'friend' of Mr. DeWight—was now one of DeWight's closest-working employees, able to spy directly upon whatever DeWight was involved in. Unfortunately, being so close to Mr. DeWight meant he could only sit back and bite his tongue as Jen was demeaned, abused, and manipulated in a world of sexual depravity before him.

Everything happening to her was a nightmare become reality. And making matters worse, what had been done to her was not the worst thing to happen. The most frightening thing in her set of circumstances was discovering her body enjoyed her degradation, betraying her mind by eagerly responding to the abuse by the men around her.

While entangled by circumstances through the combination of Mr. DeWight's and the FBI expectations of her, it was her own body's animalistic cravings which frightened her the most. There had not been one instance where she had stood her ground, instead giving in to her use, resulting in some of the most intense orgasms she had ever experienced.

Once again counting the number of times she had been exploited, degraded, and sexually abused throughout the week, she was ashamed to admit she could not even begin to enumerate the number of orgasms she had experienced. Her body had betrayed her repeatedly, succumbing to each sexual assault even as her mind screamed "No!" Inevitably, her body's response overpowered her mind, giving in to her sexual releases each and every time.

Her body's reaction was shameful, and after only one week of sexual exploitation, she seemed conditioned the carnal expectations of her position, becoming aroused almost instantly at even a simple look from any man around her. Her mind's protests had lost its fight and she no longer had any conviction in pushing back at whatever Mr. DeWight made her do—in stark contrast to her reluctance even one week ago.

What was happening to her? The question shot through her mind over and over, a mantra she had no answer for.

Her life as a stripper had accustomed her to exposing herself before strangers, even how to deal with the occasional intimate grope. She was not naïve knowing what men wanted or thought about her—men had always craved her body. Becoming a stripper was sort of an acceptance at being a sexual icon.

But things had taken and exponentially new level, thrown deeper and deeper into the adult entertainment world. She had sunken into a depravity she was not certain she could ever get out of, immersed in a web of deception, degradation, and smut she had barely known existed, much less expected herself to be subjected towards, and enjoyed it!

Hundreds of years of emerging women's rights and freedom had been completely obliterated, evaporating within moments at the signing of her name to a piece of paper, becoming nothing more than a mere plaything to the men around her.

Her body's acceptance—and even anticipation—of each degrading act was beyond distressing, it horrified her.

Ever since leaving Mr. DeWight's mansion, her body had been perpetually aroused, in a continual state of sexual craving and lascivious yearning she could barely ignore. And it became heightened by the slightest of things—the looks of her chauffer as he drove her to the airport; the stares of men and women as she walked through the terminal, wearing a dress revealing more skin than it covered. She remembered how aroused she had become on the plane when she realized she had at least two different men's ejaculate inside her at the same time—possibly more!

During each circumstance her body betrayed her morals, her entire being unceasingly stimulated. Her nipples had never been so hard for so long in her life, throbbing in pain at their loose confinement within her dress. The sensation had been so unbearable that as soon as she had arrived home she had stripped naked. And even that had not provided relief, as the cool air stimulated them even further.

The entire day Jen could barely catch her breath, her breathing so shallow even minor exertion such as getting in and out of the cab caused her to pant. She had blushed in shame at the cab driver's delighted looks as she panted worse than a dog in heat the entire ride home, her breasts rising and falling emphatically with each breath—his interest only exasperating the issue.

And then there was the continuous swamp between her legs, the meager thong worn on the plane becoming drenched with arousal, the incriminating moisture spreading across her crotch and inner thighs to the point where she imagined squishing noises as she walked.

As much sex as she had been subjected to, one would think her to be satiated; however, Jen was even more aroused and lustful. She was becoming that which Mr. DeWight expected of her, her mind and body betraying her as every man and woman she looked at turned into somebody she imagined fucking or sucking.

Arriving home, she had done nothing to alleviate her sexual energy, refusing to give in to her desires, denying validation of her use over the week. She was ashamed at becoming the type of woman Mr. DeWight wanted her to be, praying for some semblance of normalcy to come back into her life. She had attempted cleaning the house; however, even the pair of lacy boy shorts she had worn had aroused her, and common household chores did nothing to abate the struggle of ignoring what was happening to her.

Her diversionary tactics did not last long when she remembered her entire house was under surveillance—not only by the FBI, but by Mr. DeWight as well. Such thoughts caused her imagination to roam wild. The knowledge of being watched as she moved around her house virtually naked fed her exhibitionistic side, and she began treating her house cleaning as if she was working at the club, purposely on display. Her steps were more pronounced, her movements more fluid, she became obsessed with wanting to show whomever was watching how sexy and desirable she was.

Once the house was cleaned—taking less time than she wanted as being gone for the whole week meant there was little to clean—Jen spent some time looking through her closet and drawers at her new clothes.

Her first impression was awe, amazed to see all the clothing being high quality and recognizing several designer names. She had been given a small fortune in new clothing, even though she recalled Tim's comment on how most of the clothing had been provided without cost.

Like the clothes given to her at the hotel, all the items were obviously selected to maximize her curves and reveal her body. Being a stripper for so many years, Jen had accumulated what she had believed to be a large volume of 'slutty' clothes—more than any of the other girls at the club owned; however, now her entire wardrobe consisted of such items, amazed at the quantity of skimpy and sexy outfits provided to her.

She was ashamed to admit liking the selections grudgingly admitting as bad as Mr. DeWight was morally, he had a sense for fashion and was able to pick out clothing to maximize a woman's beauty.

She was saddened at the loss of her previous clothing items, as many of those outfits had been picked by Dan, and their absence seemed to distance his presence even more. Her thoughts again turned to her fiancé, the thoughts a lifeline anchoring her sanity in this new life. Very few of her old clothing items had not been removed, and those small tokens of her past comforted her—until she realized they remained only because they were like the other clothes, skimpy enough to fall into line with Mr. DeWight's image of her, that of a slut whose only purpose was to pleasure men.

Sifting through the new outfits was the best diversion she had from thinking about her body's continued state of yearning, as what woman could pass up admiring new clothes and shoes given to her, even if they were intended to display and advertise her body.

Her new wardrobe was so extensive it was not until late in the evening she finished and made dinner—still practically naked due to her body's continued arousal.

She finally decided to go to bed in the hopes sleep would calm her body's desires.

Unfortunately, she could not have been more wrong, as the constraints she had placed upon her subconscious when awake were completely removed in sleep. Her dreams were filled with sexual imagery as past events played throughout her mind, along with completely new and different scenarios where her body was utterly used and degraded, over and over.

In a half-sleep, half-awake mode, Jen's body was on fire, fueled by a sexual desire she could barely control awake—asleep her lust ran rampant through her body in unbridled lust. She was vaguely aware waking up in the middle of the night feeling constrained and bound by her normal sleeping attire, quickly stripping off her lace chemise and boyshorts, as well as throwing off her covers and keeping only a thin sheet upon her before forcing herself back to sleep. As her mind sank once more into unconsciousness, she was again flooded by a deluge of sexual perversion.

At one point in her hazily sleep-induced mind, she screamed out in eager anticipation, her thoughts creating an imaginary lover. Jen sighed at the sensation of his hand grasping her breast, squeezing it gently before rasping his palm across her nipple. She was so aroused, her mind exploded in a spontaneous orgasm at the mere imagination of touch as she urged her lover's hand to continue touching her.

She moaned in yearning as the dreamlike hand released its firm grasp of her breast, only to groan once again in enticing in desire as the apparition's hand moved between her legs. In a sexual mental fog Jen eagerly spread her legs, allowing her dream lover full access to her drenched slit while she thrashed upon the bed.

She screamed out in ecstasy as her imagination created an almost lifelike pair of lips enveloping her breast, hard chisel-like teeth clamping down upon her nipple as the phantasm's fingers plunged into her core.

Jen had never been so aroused and lustful during a wet dream, blaming her past week's abuse as the cause of her subconscious mind's' complete lack of suppressing her lust, even as she was brought to the brink of an orgasmic release, moaning plaintively in yearning as the hand pulled away from her.

Her despair was brief as her imaginary lover moved between her legs, eagerly spreading them wider, and she wanted nothing more than to have him inside her.

And then it happened.

Jen grunted as an intense orgasm overwhelmed her the instant her dream lover's cock plunged into her eager core, filling her completely with his manhood. In her dream, the rapid intrusion caused no pain, only pure pleasure as the cock drove deeply into her wet cunt.

Jen raised her hips to take him completely, thrusting upwards into his pelvis as her head exploded in a new orgasm, combining with her initial one, as she screamed even louder, barely sane as the two orgasms overrode each other. The cock moved in and out of her, and those orgasms were followed by a third, then a fourth, her body erupting in eagerly desired sexual release as her dream skipped any requirements for foreplay, moving straight to sexual release.

She grunted again and again as her dream lover's cock plunged into her repeatedly, her subconsciousness completing the realism as she imagined her body slammed into the mattress with each thrust, eagerly welcomed her body's use.

In her dream, time lost all meaning as the cock slammed into her core over and over, seeming to go on for an eternity.

Jen once more cried out in unbridled passion, the yell echoing through the room, her dream so real she even heard the bed groan in protest at the ferocity of her lover's use of her. Her body exploded in an orgasm so intense, she knew it was only possible in dreams, feeling her entire being erupting as her body convulsed, an uncontrolled epileptic fit of sexual release flooding through her as she thrashed upon the bed.

The orgasm was so intense, Jen screamed out loud once again, immediately opening her eyes as Nick leaned over her, his cock slamming into her core again and again while her body shook and thrashed uncontrollably from its actual release.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, fuck me!" Jen screamed through her orgasms as the FBI agent's cock pummeled into her.

Jen grasped ahold of the man's arms while her legs hooked around his thighs, driving her hips into him with each furious thrust, fucking him as vigorously as he fucked her.

"That's it baby, fuck me. Fuck me!" she cried out again and again.

Suddenly Nick grunted, slamming his cock into her one final time as Jen felt her womb heat up from his ejaculate, his cock spurting deeply within her. The sensation sent off another wave of orgasmic spasms as her pussy uncontrollably convulsed, squeezing and contracting around the male member, milking it of every precious drop as she held on tightly to his body, letting the peak of her release flow through her as the agent's cum infused her.

Nick's weight dropped upon her and she let out a breath of escaped air, the weight of his body welcomed as their sweaty skin merged.

It was only then, in the slow calm of their post-coital release that she realized this was not a dream, her eyes opening wide in surprise as his mouth suddenly covered her own.

Her mind in shock, Jen did not even think as her tongue and lips eagerly accepted the FBI agent's oral invasion, her arms wrapping tighter around the sweaty man's body as her legs remained locked around the back of his knees, keeping him inside of her.

Jen's body continued to be overwhelmed by her massive sexual releases as Nick's tongue danced with hers. She moaned into his mouth as he slowly pushed his cock further into her, the still-hard shaft twitching deep within her core as more of his cum released inside her.

How long they lay there, their bodies entwined in a passionate tangle of sweaty limbs she did not know, but eventually their breathing slowed, and Nick pulled back his hips. An involuntarily moan escaped Jen's mouth as he moved away and rolled off her, lying next to her in bed.