Gianna Has A Full Night Ch 02

Gianna next day

I woke up in a puddle of cum. Still in my nylons and heels, my bra was nowhere to be found.

I touched my face. It was covered with dried cum. I was barely able to open my eyes. I remembered at least five guys cumming on my face. They wouldn't let me move until they were finished; then they all spit on my face, as I collapsed, passing out.

I woke to the sun shining on me and one of my cousins touching my arm with his foot.

"Wake up "Sleeping Beauty" I need a blowjob before I go out."

I rolled over, trying to hide my face.

"Forget it, Kenny. You had your fun last night. Now get out."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Now get on your knees bitch!"

With that, he grabbed my hair, pulling me up and forcing me onto my knees. I cried out in pain and then started ,.

"I don't feel like this; I hurt all over. Just stop and leave me alone. I'm in a lot of pain, and I think I'm going to throw up."

"Shut up and suck, or I'll tie you up and do what I want."

I panicked; my face was covered with dried cum, naked except for my nylons and heels. I was afraid to be tied up. I started pleading with him.

"Please don't tie me. I'll do anything you want fuck me in my ass, cum all over my face. I don't care where you stick your dick, just don't tie me up."

I was ashamed I gave in so quickly, but the thought of him binding me and leaving me alone terrified me. I know now it was a mistake letting him see a weakness.

He looked down at me, groveling at his feet.

"I think we have something to discuss later, but for now, blow me."

I got on my knees quickly, not wanting him to have a chance to change his mind. I held onto his cock, running my wet lips up and down his rock-hard dick.

I took it in as far as I could. I was so sick I didn't want to gag; I was sure it would make me throw up.

He didn't last long. In what seemed like minutes, he started spraying his cum all over my boobs and face. Thanks to my late uncle, I'm an excellent cocksucker. He taught me how to please a man. That's some accomplishment to be proud of.

In my twenties, I dated only men over sixty. They appreciated a girl who liked to kneel before them, looking up with innocent round eyes ready to please. I let them indulge in their fantasies, and I never complained about swallowing cum or taking it on my face, then having it drip off onto my firm boobs.

The problem with guys in their twenties is that they like to pound some pussy, cum, and then jump off and leave.

Older men liked to take it easy, that is, until one night. I had been out with Harry before, and he was always a gentleman. His favorite was me wearing stockings and garter belts with high heels. This particular night, when he picked me up, he seemed angry. He usually got out and opened my door for me, but not that night.

We sat silently on our way to the restaurant. He usually commented on my dress or shoes, but not that night; I knew something was wrong. Later, I discovered his soon-to-be ex-wife was raking him over the coals. And he was going to take out his frustration on me.

We ate at a bar; he usually took me to an expensive restaurant to show me off. That night, we went to a seedy bar. I wore a tight black cocktail dress and four-inch heels in a bar where the waitresses wore shorts. He didn't talk much, and I didn't push him. What bothered me was that he was drinking more than usual.

After dinner, we usually went to his cabin on the lake. That night, we went to a one-star motel on the interstate. I felt cheap and was ready to be used.

Once in the room, he kissed me roughly and ordered me to strip. He had never acted that way before. But I meekly complied. I was standing before him in my garter belt and stockings, a push-up bra, and panties. He usually told me how sexy I looked, but that night, he forced me onto a hardback chair and pulled out a short length of rope; I couldn't believe he had brought it with him.

I had done some mild bondage with my ex-boyfriend, but this didn't feel right. I started to feel uneasy because he had always been so kind. He started to tie my hands behind the chair; I started squirming, trying to get loose, which seemed to excite him more. Once he had finished tying me securely, he started ranting.

"Well, you're all the same. All you want is my money!"

I begged him to let me go, reminding him I never asked him for money. I had no idea what he was talking about. He always paid for dinner but never gave me money or presents. But he was in a trance, circling me, ranting and raving. It's time you sluts earned a living other than fucking old rich men.

I thought I was a goner after the first time he slapped me across the face. I couldn't move. He stuffed a rag in my mouth, produced a large knife, and proceeded to cut my bra off. Once my boobs were free, he started slapping them side to side and finally pinching my nipples and pulling my tits up till I screamed for him to stop.

When he tired of that, he jerked off, shooting his cum on my tits. He looked at me and said,

"Find another sucker, bitch!"

He picked up his jacket and left, never looking back at me.

I was able to spit out my gag. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get loose. In my struggles, I tipped the chair over. I lay there for hours when I heard a key in the door. It was the cleaning crew; a guy in his twenties walked in looking at me.

"Untie me! I'm hurt!"

I begged him.

Instead of helping me, he smiled, reached out, and cupped my tits, feeling the weight of them. Looking around, making sure we were alone, he pinched my nipples, pulling on them until I moaned. Then he started taking off his pants. He pulled out his hard dick and started rubbing on my lips, trying to force it in; there was no way I was going to let him fuck my mouth when he heard a noise and quickly left; shortly after that, the manager came in, freeing me. They thought I was a hooker because of the way I was dressed, and I couldn't blame them.

I called an Uber and was home within the hour, shaking in my bed.

Whenever I think about everything that could have happened to me, I panic. I had never told anyone that story, but now, in a moment of weakness, I had told my cousin Kenny.

I stayed in the shower longer than I ever had, trying to wash away my guilt and give me strength to endure my cousin's advances. I could hardly tell my aunt about her son's wanting to fuck me.

I slept most of the day in bed; I had to rest. I didn't know if I could go to work on Monday. I was concerned about where my cousins were and worried about what they would do to me.

I put on my sweats and walked to the kitchen; I needed food. I made some eggs, bacon, and a strong cup of coffee.

I had finished eating when I heard my front door open, and Kenny shouted, "Hello."

"I'm in the kitchen, guys."

"What's this "Casual Saturday?" I thought you always wore a dress. You don't look good in sweats."

"Thanks for the compliment, JERK. I'm going to get some sleep, so don't bother me, or I'll have to tell your mother what you did to me."

They were speechless, but I noticed they were grinning at each other as I walked out.

I used to enjoy dressing for work. Granted, I dressed provocatively, but I liked the male attention it caused, just not from my cousins.

They went to their mother's house for dinner and would not be home until late.

I fell asleep around eleven o'clock and was sound asleep when I was jolted awake. Something warm and wet was touching my lips, so I reached for the light on my nightstand. My eyes popped open, and the pale light showed my cousin, buck naked, standing on the side of my bed. I tried to get up, but he was too strong and pinned me down with his leg.

His dick was inches from my mouth; he lightly slapped my face scaring the hell out of me. He roughly pulled me up and looked me over. I could smell whisky on his breath. He was pretty drunk.

I didn't know what to do, but he did. He ripped my tee shirt off, that set my boobs bouncing. He slapped my tender tits until I pleaded with him to stop.

"I'll do anything you want, just don't hit me anymore."

"ON YOUR KNEES BITCH!"

He growled.

I started to cry. It wasn't right; he was my cousin. He was drunk, and I was afraid of him beating me.

I sank to my knees, covering his cock with wet kisses. He was content with me running my lips over his cock. But I knew what was coming. He held the sides of my head and started jabbing his dripping dick into my mouth. I gagged as he began to force his cock down my throat. Beating his thighs with my tiny fists.

Every few seconds, he pulled out, smearing my cheeks with spit and pre cum while I gasped for air.

"I can't take this anymore. You're choking me."

He grinned at my discomfort.

"All right, cunt, I'm going to fuck you!"

With an evil look on his face, he threw me on the bed and jumped on top of me, stabbing at my cunt with savage thrusts. I was hardly wet when he plunged into me. It felt like he was tearing me apart. I finally got into some rhythm, but he was still killing me. With him being drunk, it took a good five minutes of him battering me to cum. He rolled off of me and left without saying a word. I lie in bed, sore as hell and unsatisfied.

The following day, they were gone, visiting a relative I had never met. I told them I couldn't get off because I had no vacation time left.

I was loving the fact I had my house back, not worrying about what I was wearing or waking up with a dick in my mouth.

Monday came too soon. I was happy I could wear what I wanted, not worrying about my horny cousins.

I chose a white skirt and a sleeveless black blouse.

I wore taupe stockings, my favorite black bra, and panties with a matching garter belt. I added a black choker and checked myself in front of my full-length mirror. I felt good about how I looked.

I was feeling naughty on my drive to work. I waited until a truck was in the right lane and slowly passed it, hiking my skirt above my stocking tops and waiting for him to get a good look. A couple of blasts from his horn and I sped up, laughing.

The next part of my routine was the parking lot. I had a designated spot near the door. Of course, a few guys were always waiting for me to get out of my car. What childlike behavior. I could understand if they were young guys, but most, if not all, were middle-aged married men. I suppose I'm part of the problem. After I parked, I opened my door and checked my makeup in the mirror, hiking my skirt up to my stocking tops. When I got out, I made a show of pulling my skirt down, acting embarrassed, and then walking quickly into the office with my tits bouncing. I loved the attention from older men, but it could cause problems. All I wanted was a father figure to dominate me; a favorite fantasy of mine was being taken by a couple of old men, making me their slave, spending my days dressed in sexy underwear, catering to their every need. I was glad we got busy so I could stop daydreaming.

The rest of the week was a replay of Monday. On Thursday afternoon, Craig stopped by my desk.

"The carpet and furniture will be replaced this weekend, so please clean out your desk."

It was unusual for Craig to spend money on the office, and I was suspicious. He looked me up and down, saying.

"You must spend a fortune on clothes, Gianna."

As he stared at my exposed legs, making me feel vulnerable and afraid. He walked into the hallway and was talking with his buddies. I was trying to clean up, but moving boxes was not the easiest thing to do in a tight skirt. I gave up and let my skirt ride up to my stocking tops. I was aware they were all watching.

When I got home Thursday night, my aunt's car was in my driveway. My cousins were packing. They were starting college early. I was never so happy to see two people leaving.

"We will be back on Christmas break, and maybe we can stay with you again."

As he hugged me, he whispered,

"Don't forget we have a video of our party."

With my aunt headed to her car, they trapped me against the wall and roughly squeezed my boobs, making sure to twist my nipples. The feeling of being trapped and in pain started a tingle in my wet pussy.

I'm not sure what would have happened if they didn't have to leave.

I had little to do on Friday. The workers were moving what we didn't need, making it difficult to get anything done. I should have known better; the guys spent more time working close to my desk, making it obvious they were checking out my legs. I wore a tight, sleeveless, cream-colored dress with brown sheer stockings and brown heels. The workers were pulling up the carpet next to me as I packed a box. I bent over to pick it up, intentionally hooking the hem of my dress; as I lifted it, the front of my dress rode up, exposing my stocking tops and garters. I let out a girlish squeal and put the box down, flustered. As I brushed dirt from the front of my dress, I made sure to keep my dress pulled up. They all just stared open-mouthed, not making a sound.

Much to the worker's disappointment, I left early; I couldn't accomplish anything. The only bright spot was that one of the foremen caught my eye. He had a confident smile and didn't hesitate to approach me.

"I hope I'm not out of line, but you have a beautiful smile. My name is Chuck"

I blushed another man over sixty, making my knees weak. Like a fool, I gave him my number.

My weekend was boring. Hoping he would call. I passed the time shopping online.

I decided to get my hair cut. My hair reached my shoulders, so I needed a little trimming. I was careful to make it clear that I needed it long enough for a French up sweep. The beautician talked me into adding brown streaks to my natural blonde hair. I liked the look; I just wish I had someone. Before I knew it, the weekend was over, and it was Monday morning.

I was shocked to see that the entire office had been repainted, and the desks had been replaced, along with new carpeting. The section where my desk was separate from the cubicles with solid walls. The part of the office where I worked was at the front of the room and had been raised six inches. The eight desks were at the rear of the room, facing my desk. I looked at my new desk in a combination of rage and embarrassment. It was a clear plexiglass top with clear panels supporting it. I was fully displayed to all the VPs sitting at their solid wood desks.

Craig walked in smiling,

"Well, what do you think, Gianna?"

"I can't believe you did this to me."

"You'll get used to it. By the way, keep Friday night free. We have to take some businessmen to the opera. They're from Europe and enjoy that crap. Here is my company credit card. I want you to look nice. Make sure you wear a formal dress; it's a black-tie event."

He turned and walked out without saying a word.

It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach; I thought he expected something more than just an escort.

Thursday, when I walked in, Craig was waiting by my desk.

"We have a little change in plans. Some of our clients arrived a day early, so we'll take them out to dinner tonight."

"I haven't gone shopping yet, Craig."

"Work this morning, and you can have the afternoon off. I want you to look nice."

I thought I always looked nice, but I wasn't stupid; I know he wanted me to look like a classy hooker.

Something was up. I had an idea the business was being sold, so my dream of having a lifetime job would be gone if it was purchased.

I enjoyed spending Craig's money. It was so easy to spend money that wasn't yours. I chose a black dress for the opera. It fit perfectly, longer than I'm used to, stopping at my ankles. The killer was the walking slit stopping just at mid-thigh Anyone behind me would have quite a view. I finished with a pair of shiny black heels with four-inch spike heels

Craig called he was sending a car to pick me up at seven, so I had time to soak in my tub. I made myself a pitcher of screwdrivers. Between the hot bath and the drinks, I was relaxed and ready to have fun.

I was going to wear one of the dresses I had just purchased. It was dark blue and tight, ending just above my knees, with a scoop neckline exposing quite a bit of cleavage. I chose a dark blue corset, matching panties, sheer blue nylons, and four-inch heels. To complete the outfit, I added a satin choker with a ring.

I wondered how old these guys were. Please be over sixty and domineering.

A town car arrived at seven, and the driver, an older man, looked me over like a piece of meat. He made sure to open my door and did not attempt to hide the fact that he was checking my legs out.

We went straight to the restaurant. Craig was waiting outside and opened my door.

"You look fantastic! They're going to love you."

I smiled and followed him to a private room in the back. The room was candle-lit, and soft music played.

I didn't get my wish; the two Asian gentlemen were in their mid-thirties. They introduced themselves, but with the amount of drinks I had, there was no way I could pronounce them. Their English was pretty good, so they had no problem speaking with me.

The dinner was excellent, and they kept my drinks coming. I was sitting between them in a curved booth. Every so often, their hands touched my legs. Feeling my stockings, my pussy started to tingle. But there was no way I was going to do anything. Abruptly, Craig got up, excusing himself,

"I have to get home; there's a problem with the sitter. The car will take you home. It's been a pleasure meeting you, gentlemen. Gianna, behave yourself."

They all laughed, but I felt like a tramp. I foolishly went to the lady's room, leaving my drink on the table. When I got back, they were both grinning.

"This will be my last drink then we have to leave."

They looked at each other, smiling, and got up so I could sit between them. I tasted my drink and knew right away it was spiked with something. I wanted to finish this, but they were enjoying themselves feeling my legs. They both had their hands on my legs, inching my dress higher. I could see that they they were close to my pussy. I knew what they were doing, but it didn't seem real. My dress was bunched up, revealing my stocking tops and garter clasps. I turned toward the younger of the two giving him more access to my pussy. Another couple of inches and my tender mound would be exposed. I was floating, not being aware of what they were doing. While one of them was lightly stroking my pussy, the other one had exposed one of my tits and was torturing my sensitive nipples with his tongue.

Even in my intoxicated state, I knew I had to get home. One of them started kissing my neck while the other was pulling my panties to one side. I summoned all my strength and pushed them away, saying I wanted to go home. They both jumped up, startled. They thought I was a hooker and could do what they wanted. I wonder where they got that idea. I pushed my way outside; they were frightened I would say something to their boss. They kept apologizing while trying to hail a cab. The driver of my car opened the door, leering at my stockings.

"Where to miss?"

"Just take me home."

I don't remember the ride home. All I do remember is that he helped me out of the car, making sure my dress was pulled up, and he kept rubbing my tits while he was pretending to help me with my seat belt. The jerk was fondling my boobs. When we got to my house, between the drinks and whatever they put in my drink. I couldn't walk in my heels. He put his arm around me, in the process cupping my boobs. I unlocked the front door, and he pushed my door open and offered to help me. I gave him an icy look and said, "No."

I was lucky he didn't rape me; I couldn't have stopped him. I fell into bed sound asleep in minutes with my clothes and heels still on.