Humiliated Ch 02 1

Chapter 02

Her friend takes control

"You were such a stupid slut, letting that guy do that to you," Irene scolded her friend. "You're a mature, married woman, behaving like a bitch on heat. You should have won him round. Instead, you let him fuck you for a tank of gas, like a common whore. You're such a stupid bitch, fucking like that in the store. Anyone could walk in and catch you at it," she fiercely reprimanded Tracy.

Tracy sat in the passenger seat feeling stunned and vulnerable. Although wearing just a bra and panties, she just sat there, looking shell-shocked. She didn't care where they were going, she was just grateful to be leaving that awful place. It would take some time to recover from what she had done, if ever.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a big fat guy grinning at her. He was looking down from the cab of a truck. The lights changed and they sped off. At the next set of lights he caught up and wound the window down. He shouted something, so Irene opened their window and leaned over her Tracy.

"She's a cheap whore, if you want some," Irene shouted to him. "Tell him," Irene demanded.

Feeling as though she deserved this horrid punishment, Tracy looked up at the fat guy, and weakly smiled.

"I'll fuck your ass babe, real hard," the trucker yelled with glee. "Is your asshole nice and tight?" he asked.

Tracy had never been so insulted and demeaned in her life. This morning had started as a daring adventure, only to turn into a pathetic disaster.

She had never been driven around in a battered old car, in her underwear either. Occasionally a chauffeur drove, though not one who touted her ass for business.

The guy nor Irene could be blamed for taunting her. In this old battered car, in her undies, she was inviting trouble. What could she expect, after letting a young friend of her son, fuck her for a tank of gas?

***

It was bad enough Irene knowing about it, but at least that boy in the garage hadn't recognised her. He was a friend of her step-son, and was only just eighteen. He had taken her over the counter, in his uncle's gas station store. Her step-son's friend had fucked her! She had been so afraid, and stunned from the humiliation of standing before him in her underwear, she just gave in to him.

The thought of it all getting back to her family was devastating. That was partly why she hadn't been able to talk him round, as planned in the dare. She was supposed to walk in pretending to be a stupid air-head, who had forgotten her purse. She was supposed to flirt with the guy running the gas station, and talk him into letting her off paying.

It hadn't been the old guy, but someone she knew. Throughout the ordeal she kept her mouth shut, avoiding looking at him, not wanting to be recognised.

***

She hardly heard her friend telling her off. However mean Irene was, it was nothing compared to how hard on herself she was; blaming herself for what happened.

"Here put this on," Irene said, handing over the awful dress. Instead of taking the elevator from the car park, straight to their floor, Irene led her through reception. The ultra-modern, steel and glass atrium, declared this one of the most prestigious hotels in the city. It left her feeling dirtier than ever.

Tracy kept her head down, feeling thoroughly retched. She was dressed like a silly young blonde, and felt everyone was staring at her. She didn't just feel small, she felt tiny, like a fragile bird, with its wings clipped. At least it would all soon be over.

As soon as they got back to the room, where her clothes were, she could change. If only the way she felt about herself could be that simple to change. Changing out of these young adolescent clothes, and escaping home, was all she could think about.

Waiting for an elevator, Tracy noticed a man's reflection in the polished steel. He was staring at her. When he whispered into a cuff, she realised he was a hotel security man. It stung her face red to realise, there was only one reason he would be watching her. He was reporting that a prostitute had walked into the hotel.

Tracy had stayed in this luxury hotel, and attended conferences with her husband. It was one of the plushest hotels in the city, and they often hired an expensive suite for the night. Normally the manager and concierge would have welcomed her, but not today, not the way she was dressed.

The dress was a micro-mini showing off far too much leg. The bust-line was both low and tight, forcing her breasts into a deep cleavage. They bounced dramatically, while striding across the highly polished marble floor. In the high heels she was forced to take tiny steps, clattering over the hard marble floor, while trying to keep up with Irene. It was no wonder she was being mistaken for a prostitute.

The shame, of being taken to the security office and questioned, would be horrendous. The prospect of waiting for them to make a decision, over whether to let her go with a warning or call the police, would be an agony. The idea of squirming before those men, dominated her imagination. A picture of her pleading with them, begging them to let her go seemed real.

What if they threatened to call the police, unless she pleasured them for free? With the lad in the gas station she had been passive, but this time they would expect her to show some skill. Could she purposely have sex with them? Could she bring herself to behave like the whore they thought she was?

Tracy's legs were weak. She almost collapsed from palpitations. She imagined being spread over a desk, being fucked hard by those big, beefy security men. In her head she was telling them it was all right to fuck her, because she was just a dumb slut.

The elevator arrived and Tracy almost fell into it.

"Thanks for getting me out of there, Irene," Tracy mumbled.

Irene pushed the stop button in the elevator.

"Don't think for one moment I'll just forget about your despicable behaviour! You'll be punished for failing the dare, and especially hard, for what you did. Unless, you want me to deliver you home like this, with cum running down your thighs. Do you want me to hand this DVD to your husband, to discover where all that dried up sperm came from?" Irene asked, with a hard glare.

"What? You wouldn't! Please Irene!" Tracy exclaimed. Her husband would recognise the boy in that store. He would never believe it was a coincidence, and that she had been forced into it.

"I like to play games, and you'll do as I say, under my rules. Agreed? " Irene fiercely told her. Irene stood over her friend, dominating the cowed woman.

Already in a state of shock, Tracy wondered, in confusion, what Irene meant. She was a long time friend, so surely she wouldn't go as far as telling her husband. It was just like Irene to take advantage, so Tracy bent to the inevitable. She was going to suffer for this dire mistake, and felt it was deserved whatever shit Irene threw at her.

"I don't understand. What kind of games?" she asked.

"All you have to do is obey me and my rules. In return I'll keep your dirty little secret," Irene shouted at her. "Up to the room, or down to reception, the choice is yours," she added. A manicured finger hovered over the zero.

Tracy imagined being delivered to those big men in dark suits. In this delicate outfit she looked ripe for plucking. They would suck her juicy fruit and make her regret walking into their hotel. As each shift came in she would be handed to another group of muscular men to be worked hard. She imagined the state of her body, covered in cum, after they had finished with her.

"Well? What are you going to do? Do you want to go down to reception?" Irene persisted.

Tracy heard her friend's voice as though it were a distant sound. She thought she asked if she wanted to go down in reception. The scene in her head changed from a dirty little back room to an acre of glassy marble. On her knees by the desk she was servicing a casually dressed man, checking in.

"High, Tracy, didn't recognise you. Nice job you're doing, really professional," the man said. With his cock in her mouth, she looked up to recognise a business colleague of her husbands.

"No! Please, Irene, take me to the room, I'll play any game you want," she said in desperation.

"Are you sure? My games can get pretty rough!" Irene teased her.

"Yes, of course, anything you want. Just don't tell anyone, please!" Tracy whined. She was desperate to get her clothes on, and most of all, winning Irene's confidence. She felt so low, she would agree to anything.

Outside the room, Irene gripped her arm. "You're just a silly blonde slut, that's the game. You've already proved you are, so it shouldn't be too difficult. You just have to do as I say, and your dirty little secret is safe, agreed?" Irene bullied her.

"Yes, what ever you say," Tracy demurely replied.

"Call me mistress from now on, seeing as I own you. Don't forget the voice, pathetic and girly," she harshly reminded Tracy.

"Yes, Mistress," Tracy replied, when Irene nudged her. There was no need to try and sound pathetic, the pitiable feelings clearly sounded in her voice. She was wondering why she was so sexed up. Images of being taken by strangers, those security men, who were doing bad things, haunted her.

Tracy nodded, wondering what she had gotten into. She walked in, meekly following Irene. At least their friends weren't there. Tracy expected to be humiliated before them, with Irene making her perform embarrassing tricks, for their amusement.

She hadn't made such a success of her life as they had. She had a wealthy husband, with a nice, staid life style to match his position. Unlike them, she didn't have a flourishing, glamorous career. Even her clothes were dowdy and respectable, except for that afternoon. She was wearing a short, girly dress, more suitable to an eighteen year old, dumb blonde.

Tracy hid behind Irene. A hotel employee was in the room, folding down the bed. She rapidly scanned the room for her clothes. Not seeing them was worrying.

"Hello madam, how may I help you this afternoon," he asked. A Hispanic accent tinged his voice, making even that innocuous statement sound sensuous. He looked at Tracy, who was trying not to be noticed. His eyes glinted, reflecting thoughts, wondering why she might be there.

Irene ignored him, as he was just a lowly employee. "In the bathroom, girl," she demanded.

Being pulled into the bathroom like an errant young girl, in front of the stranger, was demeaning, though there was n choice, she had to submit. It had been agreed, so Tracy braced herself to face Irene's wrath, and to submit to any indignity.

"Strip off and wash your dirty cunt, its dripping with that guy's sperm," Irene harshly told her.

Tracy cringed at being reminded how nasty she had been, and the dirty evidence of it. Her pussy and thighs were caked in the young mans cum. It was uncomfortable to smell her sex juices down there too. She scrubbed between her legs with a wet cloth, trying to expunge the sordid truth. Like Lady Macbeth she cried, only silently, 'out damn spot', or rather 'out damn cum'.

"Dry yourself off, you dirty little slut," Irene berated her. She pulled her victim out of the bathroom.

"Hello, Rodrigo. I take it you're finished for the day?" Irene asked.

Shit! The man was still there, probably waiting for a tip. Tracy tried to hide behind Irene, only her friend kept a firm grip on her arm. Tracy quaked in fear. She was naked, in front of a stranger! This lowly hotel employee was staring at her, with a nasty lascivious look.

"Yes madam, I am at your service," he answered. His words were respectful, though the expression was that of a wolf, inspecting its prey. "As you are here, do I take it you have agreed to my offer?" he smiled.

"Indeed not! Certainly not! I don't do that sort of thing. I'm a decent woman, an important woman with connections. I'm the one who receives the pleasure. That's why I invited you here, for my pleasure, not yours," Irene harshly rebuked him.

He put on a dejected look then shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

"However, I do like to play games, as you know. Your idea aroused my curiosity, only involving someone else, not me. This tramp is deprived enough for you to play with. So, let's see what you can do with a submissive female," Irene told him. She took hold of Tracy's arm, pushing her between them.

"I've brought you this dumb blonde, to play with," Irene announced. A big smile ironed out the lines around her eyes. She was obviously pleased with herself. "What do you think of it?" she asked.

"Very good," he chuckled. "Nice tits, shapely legs, and her ass is still firm. The waist could be slimmer, and the breasts are not so perky. She is past her prime. Though, she must have been a beauty in her day," Rodrigo stated, while looking her up and down. Despite the criticism, he licked his lips in anticipation.

Tracy squirmed in front of the man. He was being bluntly truthful about her body, increasing the humiliation over being naked before him. Having her faults openly discussed like this was unbearable. Irene held both arms, preventing her from covering her exposed flesh. She squeezed her thighs tightly together, at least protecting her sex from this lowly employee's examination.

She was dumbfounded. Her friend had cruelly teased her about being a whore, while driving here. That punishment she deserved. Was she now going to be given to a stranger, to perform something distasteful, and beneath Irene's dignity? Irene was too good for this man, and what he wanted, yet Tracy was being assessed, to see if she was good enough.

"If the slut pleases you, she's yours to play with," Irene chuckled. "Slut," Irene said firmly, while grabbing Tracy's chin, to gain her attention.

"You must obey him. Remember our agreement, do as you are told, and everything will be alright. Be a good little slut, for your mistress, and obey Rodrigo." Irene firmly stated.

"I'm going shopping. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Have fun!" she cheerfully said, over her shoulder.

Tracy jumped when the door slammed shut.

"On your knees, slut," Rodrigo demanded.

Tracy nearly fainted. The terrible things Irene had taunted her with, left her bewildered. Her head was in a spin. She had been left here, to entertain this hotel employee! That much she understood. As though her weakened knees were obeying him, they gave way, and she inelegantly swayed to the floor.

From all that had happened to her that afternoon, she felt as though a stun-gun had crippled her. Her head was pounding, with a racing heart. She couldn't look at him. She looked down at the carpet, where her body slowly collapsed, until she was on all fours. She tried to recover by taking a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing.

"Crawl here to me," he demanded.

"I can't, my mistress," she started to say; only to wonder what could be said.

"Your mistress gave you to me," he chided her. "Obey me! Or, I'll spank you for disobedience," he warned her.

She needed to be punished, for the terrible thing that had been done. Was this humiliating position, the punishment Irene meant? Irene was too important to entertain this lowly employee. She was so mean, in her friend's eyes that she was only just good enough to be given to him. She was just a dumb slut, to be given away to a stranger.

With such a dire threat hanging over her, there was nothing to be done, except capitulate.

Tracy crawled to him, as though over hot coals. The look of agony on her face was hidden, in her long blonde hair. Her forehead bumped his knee so she stopped. She closed her eyes, intending to escape a little of the disgrace. How could her friend have given her to a stranger, like a whore? Even worse than that, she was expected to be his obedient, submissive slut.

On all fours, with her mouth inches from his crotch, it was obvious what she was expected to do. This was not a just punishment, it was a persecution. How could her friend do this to her?

Tracy opened her eyes in surprise, showing the whites as though stung.

Rodrigo deftly wrapped the slut's hair around her head, to reveal a soft white neck. He pulled an old dog collar around her neck and fastened it.

She seemed stunned when he first saw her. She remained compliant, from being in such an unexpected situation. He intended to keep her guessing and off balance. This wouldn't be the first rich bitch he had played with. They often came to him with haughty expressions of superiority, and left him as happy, obedient little pets.

Evaluating her reaction to being naked, it was obvious the slut was submissive. Irene had been right. Irene had put the slut through the mill, before bringing her to the room, leaving the victim docile. If she hadn't been a natural submissive, the slut would have made a fuss, and kicked off by now. It was a pity, for he would have enjoyed thrashing her.

Rodrigo attached a leash to the collar and pulled on it, lifting her head. She tried to look away, but he gripped her chin.

"You are here to obey me, do you understand, little slut girl," he firmly said. "Call me master, when you manage to answer," he strictly spoke, whipping her ass with the leash.

"Ow! Yes. . . Master," Tracy cried out.

"That's not good enough," he calmly told her, and whipped her ass again. "What are you here for?" he asked, with a patient voice, as though speaking to a dim girl.

"I'm, here, to, obey, you, master," she sobbed.

"Very good, my obedient little slut girl," he said, with a soothing voice, laden with sarcasm.

Tracy tried to hold back the dry sobs, not wanting to be whipped again. Irene had told her to obey and now this man had reinforced the demand. The prospect of obeying didn't sound as awful, as it should have. Letting someone else tell her what to do, taking responsibility for her actions, seemed appropriate; after being such a terrible slut with that boy.

She deserved to pay a penance, and this was it. Being told to obey, because she needed to learn how to behave decently, and needed some discipline, was what she wanted. Being told she was a 'little slut of a girl', brought her down to earth, and it humbled her. It put her in her place, a stark reminder that she was just a stupid little slut.

He patted her bare bottom and stood up. Pulling on the leash she crawled beside him, keeping to heel, like a pet bitch. He would have liked to train the wealthy woman, into a pet bitch, but Irene had left specific instructions. It was a pity, for he enjoyed brainwashing these priggish women, into becoming an eager to please pet.

Making a few circuits of the hotel suit, gave her a chance to get used to the lowly position expected of her. He knew from experience what was going on in her mind. She was trying to justify this harsh treatment. He would keep her jumping through hoops for the next two hours until she was broken, ready for Irene to collect.

Rodrigo led her into the bathroom. "Take my cock out, slut," he demanded.

So now the dreadful deed was going to happen. It was uncanny to feel relieved, over doing what had been anticipated all along. It would have been better to be doing this in a more comfortable position, in the bedroom. Damn! She was thinking of being comfortable while sucking on his cock. She cringed at the thought, thinking she must be a slut, to think like that.

"Hold it firmly and point it down," he casually said.

In consternation she watched a stream of urine hit the bowl, splashing the water right next to her. On hands and knees, while holding his cock, she looked up at the stranger urinating. A hot yellow stream shot right past her face. It was both disgusting and fascinating. She was holding a strangers cock, watching for the first time, how it worked.