The Stag 1

I shiver slightly as I check myself in the mirror. I didn't really want to do this. But things are tight, and the pay for a naked waitress is better than pretty much any other job I could take. Hopefully the tips will be decent too.

My first client is a stag party - it looks pretty small, pretty tame, cocktails, gaming; nothing I need to worry about too much. I examine my appearance again - the tiny apron doesn't really preserve any of my dignity. Hopefully they won't be too handsy, and I'll get through the night without much more than a slapped arse and some lewd comments. My research tells me to expect hands, I can cope with that, but fingers crossed it won't be anything more.

Taking a deep breath, and looking myself up and down one last time, I leave the toilets, put my bag away, and head for the private room they've booked. I've been there before and it's nothing special. Tables, chairs, sofas, a small bar where I've been told I'm mixing drinks. Let's do this. My high heels click on the floor as I ready myself and walk in.

At first glance, it's calm enough. The men look relaxed, wine glasses and half-empty bottles on the tables, board games scattered everywhere. Their eyes light up as I walk in, and my heart beats a little faster between my breasts. I'm introduced to the stag, twirl for him, knowing his eyes are on my ass as I do, then get to work. I clear the tables and take orders. I mix martinis, knowing the men are watching my body move as I shake the drinks. They down their drinks, I make another round. I'm conscious, as they drink, that their eyes follow me more and more. That their conversations change. They're talking about me. About my body, my face, the shape of my arse, the curve of my breasts peeping out from my apron. The way my hands are starting to shake as I pour more cocktails. The way I'm afraid.

Then it happens. As I fetch drinks, my ankle turns and I stumble onto my knees. I've never been able to manage high heels well. The drinks spill over someone's lap, and I gasp in horror.

He's angry. He's a big man and I've drenched him. He jumps to his feet and looks me in the face. I drop my eyes to the floor.

I stutter out an apology before he grabs my shoulder. "Look what you've done, you clumsy little bitch," he growls. He points to his wet lap.

"I'm so sorry!" I squeak. My hands are shaking harder, my eyes wide.

He takes hold of my chin, lifts my face. "Look at me," he repeats. "See the mess you've made." I apologise, again and again, but there's no placating him.

"I'm soaked. Feel how wet I am." And he grasps me by my hair and pushes my face down into his crotch. He's a lot bigger than me and the force brings me to my knees. My carefully made-up face presses hard against him. I can smell the drink on his clothes, and feel his dick through his trousers. He's hard.

I hear the rest of the party gather behind me. I'm on the floor, his hand firm on the back of my head. I know that from behind, I look naked. This isn't going to go well for me, I can feel it in the air. My breath catches in my throat.

"Maybe you should teach her a lesson," someone suggests, and I shudder. He grunts, pushes my wet face hard against him one more time, then reaches down to unzip his fly. I try and pull back, but he pushes his dick into my mouth anyway. Behind me, someone's pulling me upwards so I'm bent over, untying my apron so it falls to the floor. Someone slaps my arse, hard, and my gasp enables him to push his cock hard into my face. I imagine the red handprint outlined on my buttocks. He has a tight hold on my hair and he moves my head back and forth, fucking my face. I gag as he rams his cock deep into my mouth. I'm aware of the men behind me, watching me suck this man, looking at my arse and the mark on me. I'm aware they can see everything now I'm bent over. I'm aware I can't even begin to protect myself like this.

Someone slaps me again, and again. I sob, tears rolling down my cheeks, as his cock hits the back of my throat. I'm naked now, bent forwards, my breasts dangling underneath me, and someone starts to touch them. A hand is on my arse, feeling its shape, running a finger over my crack, over my asshole. My tits are held tightly, being squeezed, as another hand runs over my stomach and down towards my mound. I'm bare.

Then someone says, "You know, it's the stag's big night. He should have some of this," and I hear agreement. Though not from the man whose cock I'm still sucking. I'm pulled to my feet and turned around. Now I can see the look in the men's eyes. And it's a look of hunger, like predators circling me.

Someone pulls me to a table, lifts me, puts me onto my back. Glasses fall. The stag is in front of me, a gleam of lust in his eyes, as I tremble. His hands push my legs open and his eyes devour me. I'm aware the men behind me have their phones out, taking pictures of me, filming me with my legs spread open and my cunt laid bare. And my heart begins to beat a little faster, and I realise I'm wet. How has that happened? I'm terrified, but there's something about this situation that's speaking to me.

The stag touches me, almost gently, with his finger, and I shudder again at his touch. He laughs, as the blood rushes to my face and I blush, because I know he can feel how wet I am. He parts my lips, again with something like tenderness, and his friends laugh. "She wants you!" someone shouts, and he pushes his finger into me, then a second finger, hard, and to the knuckle. Then a third. Despite myself, I moan, and the men laugh harder. He pulls his fingers out, and everyone can see them shining with my wetness. I sob again, feeling the humiliation wash over me, feeling my face burn, as he thrusts his slick fingers hard into my mouth, and I taste my own juices on my tongue.

Now the attacks come faster and harder. There are hands on me, squeezing my breasts, bruising them, my nipples pointing to the sky as they are crushed between rough fingers. My legs are pushed wider and wider, my cunt splayed open, as the men film my shame, my gasps and sobs, my utter assault. Someone slaps my face, hard, and my tears slide down the red weals on my cheek. Someone picks up a bottle from the floor and jams it hard into my pussy. I feel myself stretch open, hear myself whimper in pain and something like lust. A hand takes each of my ankles and brings my legs back towards my chest, leaving me trapped, helpless, on my back, with my cunt and asshole just there for everyone to see and touch. I struggle but there are too many hands on me.

The stag now stands over me. His cock is hard and huge and in his hand. His friends jeer, holding my legs up and back, as he pushes his dick hard against my wet pussy. The head of his cock parts my lips, and he groans as he feels how wet I am. Why am I this wet? Why aren't I fighting harder? He pushes into me, grunting, and I gasp. He's stretching me, tearing into me, taking me. I writhe and wriggle under his weight. As he fucks me, harder, deeper, faster, I open my mouth to scream but find it full of cock too. It's the man I spilt the drink on. I open as wide as I can, cunt and mouth both, and take both dicks into me as deep as I can. I'm vaguely aware that I'm still being filmed, that someone is recording the stag's dick thrust in and out of me, the sound of my ragged breathing, the gagging noises I make when the cock in my mouth hits hard into the back of my throat. Someone is saying they want to fuck me too. Someone slaps my tits. Someone pushes my legs back further. I moan, hard, as I'm fucked deeper.

Then I become aware, quite suddenly, of a stillness in the room. The dick is pulled out of my mouth, and the stag slides, slippery, out of my pussy. He's staring at something behind me. The hands holding me down loosen, and I struggle to my hands and knees, turning around to see what's happened.

A woman has come into the room. She's auburn-haired, small, curvy and dignified, head held high. The look in her eyes is cold, burning, furious, and she's staring at me. I hear the stag's breathing speed up, and I realise this must be his bride-to-be. This won't be pretty.

"What's going on?" The woman's voice is quiet, calm, almost soft, but cuts through the air like a steel blade. "I thought I said you could look, but not touch!"

The stag is behind me now,while I stare at the woman. The men have taken a step back from me, watching, waiting. My breath comes faster and my heart pounds. The woman's eyes haven't left me. They flicker over me, taking in my smeared makeup, the marks on my face and body the men have made, my wet cunt between my legs. I'm acutely aware that I'm crouched on a table, naked and wet, face a mess of tears and saliva, that seconds ago I had two dicks in me. That I look like a slut. I shiver.

The woman walks towards me and I start to tremble. But it's not me she's speaking to, it's her fiance.

"You've just had your cock in her, haven't you?" she says to the stag. I can't see him - he's behind me - but her eyes are still on me. On my breasts, my stomach, my pussy, which is visible between my open knees.

She beckons to her man, "Come here," she whispers. "I need to get that slut off you." He steps forward, and suddenly I can feel the magnetism in the room, the energy that flows between them, and, my god, it's hot.

He still has his cock in his hand, and he's stroking it as he walks towards her. It's glistening. He's still wet from me, and all three of us know it. She takes him, and slides him into her sweet mouth. Her hand stroking him, her lips kissing him, again and again, as she presses her face against his crotch. Her other hand on his arse, pulling him deeper into her face. The room is quiet, electricity in the air. All I can hear is his soft gasps as his dick pushes into her mouth. She must be able to taste me on him. Now I'm aware, suddenly, of how much I want to be part of this moment. I crawl forwards on the table. My face is level with the hem of her dress, and I gently take hold of the fabric and press it to my lips in a quiet kiss.

And in that moment, I again feel her eyes on me. Burning into me. I lift my face to her, and quickly drop my eyes again in apology. My breathing is rapid. She looks down at me and whispers, "Lift it."

I obey her - how can I not? - and raise the hem of her dress with one hand, daring to reach out and run a finger upwards along the inside of her leg. I lift it higher, my finger trailing higher too. And I realise she isn't wearing underwear and my breath catches in my throat. Bravely, I risk a glance upwards. She still has her man's cock in her mouth, but I think she's smiling at me.

I feel a little courage in my heart, and I press my lips against the inside of her thigh. My hand strokes higher, and I kiss her gently as my mouth follows my hand. Higher still. I'm aware of her undoing her dress and slipping out of it, as my finger reaches her beautiful cunt.

I reach up and caress her. She sighs, gently, as I run my fingers over her labia. I've never touched a woman before, and my heart is hammering between my breasts, my breath coming in gasps. It's like there's no one else in the room. I stroke her lips, her beautiful clit which hardens under my touch. Her body opens like a flower. As I press my thumb into her wetness, she moans, and once again I become aware of the circle of men watching us. The woman standing, with a cock in her mouth, and the woman crouching on the table, trembling, bruised and wet beyond all measure, stroking the cunt of the other.

And it's too much. I feel a hand on my arse, parting my cheeks, then a finger presses hard against my tightest hole. I gasp as someone pushes a finger deep into me, then another, rotating them, moving them apart, opening my asshole wide. As I gently slide my finger into the woman's cunt, feeling her open and stretch, feeling her muscles, her smoothness, her strength, the man behind me takes his opportunity to push his dick into my arse, hard, and in one movement. My head arches back and I cry out, sobbing.

The woman lets her man's cock slide out of her mouth and looks down at me. I'm on my knees. She strokes my hair and the unexpected tenderness makes me moan with lust. "Hush," she whispers, then presses my face into her soft mound. I kiss her, deeply, with all my heart, then let my lips taste her divine cunt. My tongue running over her clit, circling it. I take one inner lip between mine into my mouth, then the other, then slide my tongue over her slit, running it up and down. She tastes of the sea and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

The man behind me pounds into me, harder, faster, deeper with every thrust. The tight muscles of my arse stretch to take him. It burns, but it feels good. He grabs my hips and pulls them back against him, but I can't take my eyes, or my mouth, off the woman. I reach down, with one hand, and feel I'm as wet as she is. I put one finger on either side of my clit and begin to rub it in time with my probing tongue. My breathing is fast, the man grunting behind me as he fucks my arse, the stag panting, the woman moaning softly as I press my tongue against her clit while I thumbfuck her.

The stag comes first. He lets out a loud moan as he fucks his fiancée's face, shuddering hard into her beautiful mouth. I imagine her swallowing hard, and my own muscles tighten. The man fucking my arse must feel it too, as he grunts and pulls me back against him even harder. I gasp into her cunt, as my breathing builds to a crescendo and I buck on my own hand. My muscles spasm and clench tight around the cock buried deep in my bowels, and the man behind me cries out before slapping my arse one last time and coming hard into me.

The force of my own orgasm speeds my hand and my tongue, and the woman moans,louder this time. The sound goes right through my soul. Her soft moans turn to sweet cries, and she grabs my wrist, pushing my fingers deeper into her. I feel the muscles of her vagina close tight around my hand. My face is wet with her lust. She comes hard on my face.

I look up, bravely. She looks down at me and smiles. I raise myself up and kiss her deeply, my chin shining with her juices. I can taste her man's come on her as our tongues dance. My arse is sore, wet with come. I'm sweaty and bruised, exhausted, but I kiss her again and again, kiss her face, her neck, her soft breasts, her stomach. She smells divine.

As my breathing begins to slow, and I keep kissing her, I'm aware of the woman quietly dismissing the rest of the room. Now it's just me, her and her fiancé. I raise my face to hers and dare to meet her eyes for the first time.

She smiles at me, and it's like the sun coming out. She gently touches my face, the marks on it, strokes my hair. She whispers to me, "Come home with us."