Author's note: The Depths of Depravity series is an anthology of short, stand-alone stories. They're written from a first- and second-person perspective, with the first-person character being a nameless, faceless, dominant man, and the second-person character a submissive woman. I've kept the physical descriptions of these characters as light as possible, so that the reader may project their own images onto them as freely as possible.
This story has themes of group sex, female objectification, humiliation, rape, and misogyny.
*****
You were to be the evening's entertainment.
I had told you what to expect, and you had gotten ready accordingly. Everything about your appearance was in line with the role you would play. The makeup on your face was cheap and trashy - eyes overdone with mascara like a street corner whore begging to draw attention to herself. Your lips were painted a dark red, accentuating their plumpness. Your clothes reflected your easiness: a thin white tube top stretched over your tits, the absence of a bra making your nipples stand out through the fabric. A low waisted pink skirt that was more of a belt: barely covering your ass. No panties - there was no point. They would be ripped to shreds very quickly into the evening anyway.
It would be easy to think that you had dressed up this way. But that would be a mistake. This was your fantasy. By day, you were a respectable, ambitious woman. Someone with goals and class. Someone who commanded fear and admiration from her peers.
But at night, you needed to stop being that person. You needed to let go, to surrender yourself to the most depraved, filthy fantasies you could think of. You needed to liberate yourself from the confines of respectability and lose yourself in the depravity of submission.
For most people, those fantasies would remain fantasies. But we were not most people.
I had planned it all with you. A group of men hired for this night specifically. We'd had them tested, and told them what their limits were. They knew what to expect. Now, it was your turn. Just one step left.
You tentatively put the pill between your legs and raised the glass of water to your lips. This was it. The first step in your submission. You knew the pill would take effect quickly. Lowering your inhibitions, relaxing you, making you crave more, helping you sink into your role better. You would still be in your senses - in fact, your senses would be enhanced. You would still remember everything the next day.
You were to stand in the corner as we started our game. Waiting patiently, as your mind started to feel the first effects of the pill. Silently watching me joke and laugh with these men, men who you would normally not look at twice during the day. A construction worker. A plumber. A mechanic. A janitor. Men who were loud and uncivilized, whose paths would never cross with yours normally. And now, they were the ones ignoring you.
You were not to speak until spoken to. You were no longer in command. You were no longer worthy of an opinion. Your job was to stay silent and serve.
When needed, you would be summoned with a gesture. A tap of an empty glass, indicating that you are to scurry and refill it. Or a snap of the fingers and unzipping of jeans, to tell you to crawl over and silently take the man's cock in your mouth. He would continue playing, continue talking and laughing, completely ignoring you as you greedily took his cock in your mouth. It didn't matter if it was big or small, it didn't matter if it smelled, or if it was sweaty. Your thoughts about it didn't matter. You existed to serve. You would suck eagerly, quietly. Looking up at him, hoping he would glance down at you. Hoping he would acknowledge you in some way, even if it is to slap your face or grope your tits. Getting more and more turned on the more he continues to ignore you, your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You wouldn't have even noticed him as you passed him in your offices. You would have been too busy to stop and speak to a janitor mopping the floors of your business. Your pussy would be throbbing, knowing that your current position was, in some way, befitting a woman like you. Between his legs, dressed like a whore, ignored by the same kind of man, as you sucked his sweaty, smelly cock ravenously. Slathering his balls with your spit and smearing his wet shaft over your face, worshipping it desperately. Pushing your tits against his thighs in a silent plea for his approval.
You wouldn't get it. He would just cum in your mouth and kick you away. You would scurry back to your corner, waiting to be summoned by the next man who needed a hole to cum in. Shame filling your heart as you realized the reason you were not acknowledged was because you weren't good enough. Determined to improve with the next cock. Perhaps then he would pay attention to you.
As the game reaches its end, I stand up and look at you. Your knees are sore from crawling between the men's legs. Your mascara is starting to run down your cheeks, thanks to the more brutal men who had fucked your face. Your top is soaked from the drool dripping down your chin. I tell you to come over to the table as I clear the cards away. Your head swimming in your drugged state, you comply. I tell you to lie down on top of the table, on your back, and spread your legs open.
You hope that the dim light would mask the redness on your face as you obey. The wooden table is hard on your back, but you barely notice. Heart beating, you slowly spread your legs. Your feet hanging off either side. Surrounded by nameless, faceless men. All looking down at you as your skirt rides up. Your nipples rock hard as they poke through your shirt. Tits rising and falling rapidly as you try and remember to breathe.
I reach down between your legs and touch you. You bite your lips and close your eyes, exhaling as you feel my fingers spread your lips open. Trying to hold back a moan as you feel me run them up and down the length of your slit, and over the hood of your clit. Circling it, scraping my nails on the sensitive inner lips, making you want to squirm as you try to get my fingers inside of you. Your juices flowing shamelessly, down between your ass cheeks, staining the table as you try to hold yourself still. Letting out an involuntary yelp as I slap your pussy, whimpering as I tell you to behave.
