(and the weekend continues)
The next morning, after breakfast, where he fucked her face with her head pinned back against the window, he turned to her.
"Time to get dressed, you're working soon."
"Working Sir?"
"Yes, working. Earning your keep. Chop chop!"
Gillian dressed in the outfit laid out for her. A sky-high pair of heels, stocking and suspender belt, a bodice in purple silk that laced up right under her breasts, pushing them up but not supporting them, deep soft and padded cuffs, and finally a thick neoprene hood, again with a gap for her ponytail but this time with breathing holes. As she stood swaying in the middle of the playroom, Gillian desperately tried not to think about what was to come. Earning her keep? Was he whoring her out?
After a blindfold was slipped over her eyes she felt her wrists being clicked into either end of a metal bar and drawn into the air, the whine from the electric winch muffed by the hood. They rose up and up until she could only just keep her toes on the ground, stretching her tall. If she tensed her stomach muscles she swung free, rotating a little she thought until her toes scraped the ground and took the weight off her wrists.
The doorbell rang.
"Showtime. Remember to be a good little fucktoy, won't you? Neither of us really want a repeat of yesterday, do we?"
Gillian strained her ears as her Master walked off, hearing the door, and multiple voices. They came into the main room, and there was the noise of drinks, men chatting laughter, and nervous chatter. Finally, the group hushed as the door to the playroom opened.
"There she is boys, as promised, a fabulous fit fucktoy, 50 this year and in amazing shape. Go cop a feel".
Her Master really had sold her! Hands slid over her body, stroking, cupping, probing her. A loud slap reverberated around the room as somebody slapped her arse and she spun on the spot, her feet coming up off the ground in shock.
"Winch her up a bit, let's see her struggle!" a new voice called out. The winch whined and she lost contact with the ground. Somebody reached up and pulled the blindfold off and Gillian looked panicked around at the five guys all standing with drinks in their hands, groping her as she slowly spun. They all had some form of mask on, some left over from masquerade balls, one freaky Halloween mask, one face bare and unashamed. At least with the blindfold off, she stopped feeling sick from the spinning.
"The hood stays on, you know the rules boys," her Master told them, his firm voice leading the men as easily as it compelled her.
"You have an hour. Your paperwork checks out and so does hers, you have my word, so if it's your thing then cum where you like. Spanking and throat fucking are fine but no hitting, biting, scratching, or hard play, no exceptions."
In his instructions to her, Gillian had been told to go and get a full set of tests and to bring the paperwork with her. It had been in her coat pocket when she arrived and he must have checked it at some point. There was very little chance of her getting pregnant right now, but this was all something of a shock. She was sure if she said something her Master would change the scenario, but for the moment, all she could think about was quite how much cum these guys were going to pump into her.
"Jesus, you do live a charmed life, where did you find this one?" a tall well-built guy asks.
"Dating apps, same as you." He says offhand.
"No dating app I've been on! I guess that's why we pay."
"Less chat boy, the clock is running."
And with that she was lowered to the ground, unbuckled, arms pinned against her sides, tits pinched and pulled at as they wrestled her down. Gillian struggled and fought back just enough to make them think they had the upper hand; she knew this game.
"Get her over the bench!", somebody called out and Gillian looked up to realize that whilst she's been dangling and groped, fingers pushing themselves into her, her Master had dragged out a waist-high leather bench, with kneeling pads on either side of it. She knew what it was, she'd seen them before on the Internet, but never in real life.