A Woman Called Cumslut

A WOMAN CALLED CUMSLUT

by

TRISTAN TROTSKY

Beware Of Your Rape Fantasy...

At the moment you least expect it. While you're walking down the city street looking at the storefront shopping displays, mirrored in department-store glass, the van draws up to the kerb beside you. You scarcely notice, you're lost in thoughts of maybe texting a friend, or perhaps calling in at the local Indie coffee house. You don't see the swarthy guy opening the van doors, or the soiled mattress inside the van. You're not aware of the other man approaching you from behind... until he grabs his hand across your mouth, stifling your ability to cry out. And they both pick you up physically and bundle you into the back of the van as you struggle helplessly against them.

The van doors lock closed. A third man, the driver, accelerates into the traffic-flow, and keeps driving.

The hefty assailant pins your hands over your head as you're sprawled back on the mattress, while the swarthy guy pulls the front of your dress open, his hands engulfing the swell of your exposed breasts...

'Yeah, we've got the kind of slut we need' he says over his shoulder, 'we made a good choice with this one.'

There's a hard-faced woman too. She wears sheer nine-denier black nylon stockings, a black waist-clinching shiny oil polished latex suspender belt with a pair of ridiculously high heeled black patent stripper heels. She wears really cheap whoreish make-up. She stares down at you. 'No point shouting, Girl, no-one's gonna hear you. Just surrender to what's going to happen, and make it easy on yourself.'

She turns to the swarthy guy. 'Get her panties off, now. Do I have to tell you everything? She needs to be naked.'

He shrugs, then reaches down, and with a single hard wrench rips the flimsy material away.

'Hold her fucking legs apart.'

'Yes Madame Lao.'

And Madame Loa reaches down between your splayed legs and slides her finger between your pussy-lips. 'Yes... just like he said, she might be struggling, but her body betrays her, her cunt is already fuckably wet.'

Where are they taking you? The worst thing is not knowing where you're being driven. But after some time, the van seems to swerve a hard turn. After a jouncing slow-down it grinds to a halt. The van doors slam open, the sudden glare of light is so bright you can't see straight as you're hauled out. There's a warehouse in a disused business park. A queue of men wind around the side of the building, they begin yelling and whistling as they see the naked woman being forced through a side-door and into the space within.

At first it's difficult to see straight. There's what resembles a boxing ring raised in one corner. With a rising sense of horror you see that there are three sets of almost medieval stocks... with two naked women trapped into the two nearest torture devices. You struggle anew and scream 'no, no, no.'

The woman slaps you hard across the face. The stinging shock stops you.

'Nothing personal. This is basic economics' says Madame Lao. 'There have been a series of Police raids. They've seized our narcotics stock. But we have expenses, overheads, operating costs. Our business involves certain obligations that must be met. So, we need an instant cash revenue-stream. Which is where you come in...'

You're shoved up onto the enclosed area. You can see the other two women squirming against their imprisonment, their huge eyes gazing up at you in silent appeal. You are shoved down, manhandled hard as you struggle, into the third set of stocks, with your head and wrists locked into place. Then your ankles are fixed a distance apart by a spreader bar, and secured into place.

Madame Lao produces a black felt-tip pen and writes 'Fuck-Hole' across the bare buttocks of the first woman, then 'Cunt' across the second. She muses for a moment, then writes 'Cum-Slut' across your own backside. 'These are your names now' she says, 'these are the only way you will be addressed, and you will answer to these names promptly and obediently.'

The woman surveys her handiwork with a grim leer of satisfaction. 'Good. Three sluts. Nine fuckable holes. At $10 a guy that gives us a comfortable profit.'

'What do we do them afterwards?' says the swarthy guy, unfastening his belt and lowering his pants.

'You want a free fuck, Ratso? No way, you stand in line, you pay the $10 like the other punters' she laughs. 'And once we're done today, they'll be sufficiently broken in that we can simply ship them out to one of the brothels so they can continue to whore for us.' Then she looks up, 'OK, let the first ones through, we've got a lot of hard fucking to get through today...'

Although your head is locked into place at waist-height, with your nude body arched, hips raised and legs held brutally apart, you can see across the warehouse floor to where the side-door is being opened, and a flood of men begin filing through, dutifully surrendering up their currency on admission, and circling the three secured and helpless target women. Your throat is dry. Your skin in crawling with a dread apprehension.

You can see a circle of cocks. There's a gasp from your right... you can't see properly, but it seems that the woman next to you is already being used.

'Try lube if you're fucking their ass first' instructs Madame Lao, the hard-faced woman, 'after a while they'll likely not need it. Spunk makes a good lubricant in itself.' There's a ripple of answering laughter.

The hands of an unseen man are steadying your hips, you feel the heat burn at your vagina-mouth, the thrust of entry takes your breath away as it slithers deep, your gasp leaves your mouth gaping, which is promptly filled by another cock, and you're double-impaled, the endless fucking begins... and it is relentless... your big down-hung breasts sway and jiggle with each thrust, until the warning grunt that signals the cock in your mouth trembles and pulses a stream of cum which dribbles down your chin as he wrenches it free, only for another bigger cock to slide in between your sundered lips... with a rising panicky sense of dread you feel a shifting manoeuvring taking place behind you, and a straining pressure against the puckered mouth of your anus, you squirm as it forces its way into the tight passage, and you're triple-impaled on cock...

You can hear the moans, the slap and squelch of flesh on flesh, the gurgling sounds from the two other women, as cock after cock thrusts into all three orifices of your body, without pause, until you're aching and wet and lost in a mindless sexual haze, detached and drifting... they're no longer people, no longer individual human beings, they're just cocks...

Some time later the car coasts down the slope towards the port city. Ratso is driving.

Madame Lao sits beside you on the back seat. You are naked but for a collar.

The street is thronged with cheap stores and eateries. He pulls off the main strip down into the dingy dock-area, a nondescript alley, and draws up outside a dilapidated brick building that's sorely in need of paintwork, a rusting metal fire-escape trickling down its facade. A dark doorway that leads into a dingy reception bar. Ratso kills the engine, leaving only an uneasy silence, faintly edged by the sound of lazy jazz from the bar.

'This will be your brothel' says Madame Lao. 'It's a low-rent area with a high black and Asian immigrant population. As you can see, there's a harbour, so there's lots of passing trade that comes from international ships. They need sluts. They need their balls draining too. You're new meat, all the regulars will want to try you out. So, all three of your holes will be kept busy. Just make sure to give them value for money, so they come back for more. But don't worry, I started out here. Just as you did. I was a regular whore. But there are opportunities. Be a good obedient slut, and in a year or so you'll be running this place.'

'Yes Madam,' you venture. 'Just one question. If I may be permitted to ask. When you first snatched me in the van, you said 'just like he said, she might be struggling, but her body betrays her, her cunt is already fuckably wet'. What did you mean by that? It's always puzzled me.'

'What is your name, Girl?'

'My name is Cumslut, Madame.' It comes so naturally now.

'You'll suck Ratso's cock by way of thanking him for the ride. That is the least you can do.'

'Yes Madame. Thank you, Madame.'

Ratso gets out of the driver's seat, circles round the car, opens the door closest to you, and slides his zip down. Without a second's hesitation you take his sweaty unhygienic cock into your mouth and begin sucking, taking it deep into your throat.

'Before you were Cumslut, you had another name and a different life' she says as you suck contentedly. Her voice is smooth and practiced. 'You had a guy you called your partner. He was Winston. But he was also a user of our narcotics. He owed us big. He got out of his depths. He offered you in lieu of payments, he said you'd confided to him that you liked rough sex, and that you had gangbang fantasies. The state of your cunt on that first time I stuck my finger into you confirmed that he was right...'

At that moment, Ratso cums, you hold his cock in your mouth until he's done, swallowing the cloying ejaculate, until he withdraws and wipes himself on your chin. You purse your lips and submissively kiss the saliva-wet cockhead.

Madame Lao reaches out and wipes the dribble of spunk from your face, almost tenderly. 'That's the way it was. Cumslut. You understand?'

'I understand Madame Lao. Thank you for telling me the truth.'

You sniff the air as you step out into the crumbling alley. Despite your situation, despite your nudity, it smells of a strange kind of freedom.

Yes... Winston. A name from another life. He's out there now. You feel a surge of bitter resentment. Admitting to a taste for rough sex at a moment of passion, and a sniggering whisper of a naughty gangbang fantasy does not equate to what you've endured. And yes, you might have watched gangbang internet Porn, and masturbated to the arousing images. You might have imagined yourself as the cum-glazed girl at the centre of all those spurting cocks. You've done that. Yet now something seems to have flipped a switch in your subconscious, opening you up to a sensory cascade of new horizons. Maybe it's trauma, maybe it's simply surrendering to a previously unsuspected capacity for submission? But that doesn't equate to what he's put you through in order to wriggle his way out of debt. He will pay for what he's done. A few years work in this brothel, and there will be opportunities for the taking. When you've acquired the powers of Madame Lao, with underlings at your beck and call, watch your back Winston, because I'll be calling...

by TRISTAN TROTSKY