Anne-Marie - Forced to Whore

It had seemed like a victimless crime at first. My husband stealing £400,000 from work, me helping him launder it. Of course, as a lawyer, I should have known there is no victimless crime. If I am being entirely accurate I should say as a former lawyer, as due to my involvement with my husband's crime that's no longer my primary profession. These days I am a whore. Oh, it might be forced career, but that's I have become.

I remember our life before, my life before. Success. Privilege. Comfort. It's all changed now. My life now is about humiliation. Each day selling myself. Humiliation after humiliation. The things I have done, the things that have been done to me -- I don't think anyone knows more about the meaning of that word than me.

At first when the missing £400,000 was discovered we thought we were off the hook. One of Alex's colleagues -- a man called Gary Abel -- was blamed for the theft. He was arrested, convicted and sentenced to three years in custody and we celebrated. Champagne, a big night out. Promises to each other we wouldn't feel any guilt about an innocent man rotting in prison. More champagne and a giddiness about what we were going to spend our ill-gotten fortune on that led to some amazing sex.

The night Alex came home with his boss was the night it all changed. Mr. Croker was a tall man in his early sixties, mainly bald, with a small ring of close-cropped white hair and a stomach bloated by good-living and little exercise. I had always thought he had a face that suggested a little bit too much joy in the power he wielded as the CEO of the bank. A bit too much joy in bullying the staff, firing employees.

Mr. Croker sat down and ordered us to do likewise. He opened his briefcase and shared the evidence proving our guilt. He then took out a cigar, cut its end off and lit up. When I objected he calmly said: "You won't object to anything I want to do again. Not if you want to keep your lovely home, your jobs and your arses out of prison."

"I am going to make you a proposition. If you fail to accept it you will both go to prison on multiple charges and you Anne-Marie, as a lawyer, should know that the custodial sentences will be longer than poor Mr. Abel is currently suffering. When you got out you'd be penniless and unemployable."

"Agree, and after a period of indenture, you would be free and I will even allow you to keep the money you stole. Now the terms are simple, I want to own you for 400 days and use you to satisfy my needs and command you to provide certain services for financial gain. During this period of sexual servitude you will follow every order I and certain others give or you crimes will be reported. I warn you, my ownership of you will be exceptionally degrading and most days you will wonder if prison and poverty wasn't a better deal."

Mr. Croker pulled out a contract for me to read. I realised we were in an impossible situation, but I thought if we said yes it might buy us some time to flee the country and consequences. As I read the paperwork my stomach churned at some of the clauses. Somewhere between fury and broken sobbing I managed to ask Mr. Croker what 'body modification' meant.

"You are an attractive woman Anne-Marie. You may be 26, but you look much younger. With your petit height, those small breasts I dare say that when I put you in school uniform it will take 10 years off you. However, I may wish to take you up a cup size or two or order a vaginoplasty to tighten your cunt for my, others and even your pleasure."

"You said 400 days, but the contract requires an extra 30 days for 'conditioning'. What is conditioning?"

"I would require you to check into a health club for a month. Lose a little weight, be pampered with a lot of spa treatments. They'd be some laser hair removal, some anal bleaching and the like -- I would want you to be at your best before I took ownership of you."

I tried to make eye contact with Alex, but he just stared at the floor. "Oh your husband won't tell you what do. He made it very clear on the drive here it is entirely your decision. I must say I hope you agree to this little blackmail, from the things your beloved has told me about your sex life -- your enjoyment of spanking, how you like to let him fuck you while you push a little dildo up your arse -- I think I and many other will enjoy your servitude."

I had never known such fury. Fury at my husband for getting us into this mess, at myself for being his accomplice. Fury for the cruelty and perversion of Mr. Croker. Fury and fear, because I knew I had to agree to this or lose everything.

"If you agree, I will give you a month to quit your job, give your family some cover story such as working abroad for 18 months and say your goodbyes. Then you'd report for a month of conditioning before the contract comes into full effect. Your husband will continue to work for me and although I won't want my employee and my indebted servant fraternising as such, I might let you see each other in some form occasionally."

"I don't want to do this Mr. Croker."

"Of course you don't dear, but if you don't it's prison, poverty and the humiliation of being known as a thief who let an innocent man go to prison for three years. If you agree to my proposal it will be rough on you, but at the end of those 400 days you will be free, £400,000 richer and free from the threat of incarceration."

Hoping we would find some way out of it before the perverted bastard could take advantage of all the rights I would be transferring, I reluctantly signed the contract.

"Fantastic Anne-Marie. I am so pleased you have seen sense. Now I don't want to enjoy all my new property till the first of your 400 days, but before I put my signature to contract as well, I want to inspect the merchandise. I also want a blow job. All this talk of you having to submit yourself to me has made me horny as fuck. Stand up. Undress. Slowly."

I froze. I was the classic deer in headlights. The last thing I wanted to do was expose myself to this man, let alone suck his cock. Yet I knew there was no other way out of this.

"Stand up and undress. If you hesitate any further I will call the police."

Reluctantly I rose from the sofa and stood in front of him."

"Good girl. Now start with the blouse Anne-Marie. Unbutton it very slowly."

I began to disassociate, to turn off and automatically do as I was told. I undid the first button in a nervous fumble and then waited for a few moments before attempting the second. By he time I shakily got to the fourth button open I was deeply aware that Mr. Croker was able to have a view of my 34B breasts in their white lace bra. I was also aware that my husband was starring intently as I undid my blouse, pulling it free from my skirt and tackling the last of its fastening till it was fully open.

Under the gaze of both men, I shrugged off my blouse and began to undo my bra.

"Wait. I will do that for you Anne-Marie. You skirt next if you please. Slowly."

I followed Mr. Croker's order. Tugging the zip and letting gravity pull it down before gently stepping out of it.

"Now the tights please Anne-Marie. When you come into my service you'll learn to wear stockings -- the uniform of the whore -- not those ghastly tights."

I slowly rolled them down over my thighs, hating the fact that my mound, clad only in white lace knickers, was being displayed to the pervert seated opposite me. When I was entirely free of them he motioned with crooked finger to advance towards him. When I right in from of him he brushed his fingers over the fabric covering my mound.

"Good girl. It is nice to see the collar and cuffs match. Your pubic hair seems just as lovely a shade of red as you lovely long hair. I do so like a ginger pussy. Now turn around, bend over and touch your toes."

I did exactly as commanded, hoping that my husband would finally intervene and stop my humiliation, but he remained rooted to the sofa, silently watching me. Tipped up and holding my ankles, I felt the slow, deliberate hands of Mr. Croker massaging my bum cheeks before his thumbs went into the waistband of my knickers and pulled it wide as he tugged the white lace down to my thighs.

I let out an involuntary protest at this violation which earned a swift, hard and smarting strike from one of Mr. Crocker's hands on my bottom. "Unless the whore wants a beating, she will remain quiet whilst I inspect her. Understood?"

As much as I usually like some spanking in foreplay, the last thing I wanted right now was a thrashing from the old pervert so I nodded and let out a trembling: "Yes Mr. Croker."

"Pull your cheeks apart and brace yourself for my fingers. That's it, wider. Good girl."

Holding myself, displaying myself for him I felt a fat, sausage like probe my anus, testing it before it was withdrawn only to be spat upon before being painfully pushed into me up to the second knuckle. "Nice and tight at the moment. Perfect." He rotated and wiggled it inside of me, before pulling it out only to put another finger to work testing my sex. I was entirely dry and the invasion was painful. It didn't seem to please Mr. Croker either. "I think we will be needing that vaginoplasty as part of the conditioning. I want you virgin tight when I first rape you cunt Anne-Marie. Now turn around."

I complied and he pulled painfully at my public hair. "Lovely fur, but a bit unkempt. We won't shave it all off, but we will tame it." He stood up and roughly pulled my bra down and seized my breasts, mauling them and pulling my at nipples. "Beautiful nipples my dear. So lovely and pink. I might eventually get them pierced, but not to begin with." He roughly placed his hand on my shoulders and bellowed: "Down! On your knees."

He pushed down and I crumpled, kneeling in front of him. With horror, distaste and utterly humiliated I undid his trousers and pulled down his Y-fronts to reveal a fat, large circumcised penis. "Now pull your lips over your teeth, stick out your tongue so it forms a warm, wet runway and give me your mouth."

With one of his hands on the back of my head, the other pumping his nine-inch organ, I did as he commanded. He forced his cock into me. I wasn't giving him a blow job, he was using my mouth. As he pushed in and out of me, it felt exactly as it was -- an oral rape. His thrusts caused me to gag, my eyes were a flood of tears. My face was a mascara waterfall. I was powerless and totally violated as my husband watched silent and immobile.

"That's it, take it. Take it all. You are going to be such as good little whore for me. I don't mind if you cry. In fact I like it. I'm your daddy now and I like making you cry." His vile words seemed to excited him so much that he climaxed, filling my mouth, hot salt hitting the back of my throat and making my choke. He held my head still till every drop had fallen from him, before ordering me to clean him with my tongue.

I was uncontrollably sobbing as he pulled up his trousers and told us both: "Put your affairs in order. You have 30 days before the whore reports for conditioning."