(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.
"I see you know what a breeding bench is then fucktoy," her Master said rather pointedly. I bought this one off a pedigree breeder, they're rather hard to get hold of these days. I think they might even be illegal for use with animals."
The men wrestled her over it, ankle cuffs snapped in place as she was forced into a kneeling position over it, wrists cuffed too far out to the sides leaving her head tits hanging over the other side of the padded bar. She'd barely realized how open and vulnerable she was before the man without the mask stepped up to her, dropped his trousers, and started stroking a sizable cock. No wonder he wasn't shy and wearing a mask. The cock was pushed into her mouth and he being to fuck her face.
"No teeth or we'll find a ring gag for you," he said, and Gillian tried to nod as he pushed deeper into her face.
Seeing it was open season it didn't take the rest of this group long to start fucking her. Cold lube was squirted into her ass and a seemingly endless supply of cock pushed into her. As they swapped Gillian realized they had a rotation system and she was being fed cocks that had come out of her other holes, tasting herself again and again, mixed with the slimy cum and lube. At any point she had at least two cocks in her, the bench not making it easy for her to take one in her cunt and one in her ass at the same time, not that this stopped thumbs, fingers and half a fist being pushed into her as the guys groaned and shot their loads in her. Eventually, two of the guys managed to arrange themselves behind her and a third stepped in front, making her airtight as her tits swung under her, slapping on the bench, wet with cum, spit, and lube, red from the mauling and slapping.
Eventually, they seemed to tire. Gillian had no idea how much of the hour was left, but eventually, five cocks, limp and empty stood lined up in front of her, the guys chatting, getting their breath, laughing at what a mess she was.
"That's it fellas, time to dress and get back to work" her Master called out. "Leave your money on the plate by the door."
They filed out, gathering up lost clothes along the way, one giving her a hearty slap on the arse. "You were fun, maybe we'll see you again sometime," he said, as Gillian's head hung exhausted. She'd orgasmed so many times she was exhausted, and hung over the bench, staring at the drips of God knows what on the floor in front of her.
Finally, the door closed and she heard her Master returning, the swish of money being counted.
"Six whole dollars! You must have impressed them, somebody left a tip!" He said, showing her the money as she looked up at him questioningly.
"They're my D'n'D group. They know the money is only for show, not that I ever pay for a beer."
"D'n'D? " Gillian asked looking up and then hanging her head, "I got gangbanged by your D'n'D group?"
