Trophy Wife Reboot Ch 05

I woke late covered in sweat. The sun already began to broil the desert floor. My stomach rumbled from hunger, but I'd missed the morning meal and the chance of the bitches saving my meager meal was zero. I'd have to hold out until noon. I looked in the mirror. One week in and I'd lost weight. Some wives handed out copious amounts of their husband's money for diets that produced this kind of results. Just get on these cunt's bad side, and you can lose all the fat you want; I thought.

I stood under the shower. The water was already warm from the ambient heat on the water tanks outside. By noon, the water could be scalding. I stood naked under the stream of water, relaxing my aching muscles, when Smith entered the room.

"Big night ahead for you again. You'll only have to fuck eight dudes this time."

"Thanks, I wanted to start thinking about that."

"Well, sugar, I'm giving you twenty dollars' worth of information in advance. You aren't going to be working the usual crowd. They'd planned it as a 'special treat', but they're bringing the front line of a state college football team. All very big and black. Prepare yourself for that."

"Shit. I'm beat up enough."

"One thing in your favor, they all speak English. Use that to your advantage. You're the predator. Make the other whores your prey."

I continued to stand under the water, and was no longer bothered by the way Smith looked me over like a piece of meat. "Better yet, make the other whores the player's prey," I said. She nodded and chuckled as she left the room.

I spent the rest of the day mentally preparing myself for what was to come that night.

At 6:45 that night, the minibus arrived, and I watched eight very large men disembark. They were in their early twenties and appeared slightly drunk and rowdy, as they ran around the yard, high fiving and yelling. I heard one shout, "We're at the whorehouse, baby, yeah."

I let the other trophy whores go to the Viewing Room first and overheard #6 tell them, "Sorry, guys, we're all on the rag tonight. You'll have to share just one of us, but she's the biggest whore in the place."

I took a deep breath and walked into the room. "Hey, guys, I'm Lauren. I'll be your main course tonight," I said in a sweet come-hither voice.

I licked my lips as I looked them over, and they leered back at me. "Oh, are there only eight cocks for me tonight? I'll have to make do with that." I took the hand of the largest man and pulled him toward the stall. He said his name was Trevor.

"I'll need a backdoor man, too. Who loves anal?"

Three of them rushed to get the first crack at my ass-crack, and they playfully shoved each other until a victor had triumphed. I pulled the clothes off both men and tossed mine in the corner. I planted a kiss on Trevor and ran my tongue into his mouth. His cock was already dripping with precum and I bent down to lick it off. At my direction, he remained standing and without visible effort picked me up and lowered me onto his nine-inch shaft. I yelled, "Oh, fuck yeah, at last, a decent-sized weapon in my holster."

I looked over my shoulder at the other man, whose cock was a mere eight and half inches. "Are you going to shove that fucker up my a-hole, or not?"

I'd already pre-lubricated, and he slipped easily into my asshole. The two began rocking back and forth, and I felt the two gigantic rods pounding inside my loins, as if they were banging against each other. I kissed Trevor and allowed myself to enjoy the sensation of being completely taken.

To the side, the players yelled and chanted my written description, "Go, Stupid Skank. Go."

Then something happened that I hadn't expected. I began to climax for the first time since I'd been here. Hell, the first in a long time. Not the most powerful one I'd ever had (that honor will always go to Tony, the guy that deflowered me for my eighteenth birthday), but I was coming. I made the most of it. I scream obesities at the top of my lungs and worked my hips between the two men as well as I could. Both came shortly thereafter, then dropped me to the mattress.

Three other guys rushed in and I took two in my mouth simultaneously. I barely manage to fit them in, but ran the dual cocks as far down my sluttish gullet as possible. I felt another cock rammed into my dripping pussy. The two in my mouth exploded and I drank every drop of the translucent white syrup.

Another two men took the stall and this time one worked his way into my ass, while I bounced up and down on the pole filling my cunt. I dramatically called out another organism I was legitimately having, only amplifying the celebration. I felt the cock in my VJ quiver as it ejected more semen into me.

I was raised toward the ceiling, while the cock in my ass stayed put. I spread my legs to show the crowd cum dripping from my vagina and heard more cheers. A new player was placed into position beneath me and I was lowered onto his hard cock. I shrieked with fabricated delight as my snatch engulfed its entirety.

Each man eventually came. I'd taken on the entire team and won. I was picked up and carried naked on their shoulders back to the Viewing Room.

I looked around and was happy to see that the first string of men had already begun to recover with the advantage of youthful stamina, excitement and enough time. I walked in front of them and announced, "All right guys. The main course was great, but everyone needs dessert and this cathouse serves the best pussy in the state. I've completed my obligations, but for a mere twenty dollars, you have three other three fine-assed ladies for a long and as many times as you can handle."

The other trophy whores looked stunned and terrified. Wallets can out and money fell to the floor. From the wads of cash being laid down, I figured my second stringers could be playing in overtime for the rest of the night.

I watched as they were carried back to the stalls to be scrimmaged by the now frenzied players. "Remembered, these whores love being ass fucked even more than I do," I called out.

Mr. Ambrose can into the room, and I heard him ask the Ranch Manger, "What the fuck is going on here, Max?"

"The team you invited is going into the second half, and it looks like #5 has finished with her punishment. The rest of the whores will have to go as long as these guys have the money."

Ambrose looked upset, "Isn't there anything you and Smith can do to control this situation?"

"Maybe in a couple of hours these guys will calm down, by at the moment, not on your fucking life are we getting between horny footballers and these whores."

Ambrose looked at me. "Did you have something to do with this riot?"

"No, sir. I just fucked them and told them what they wanted to hear, just like I've been taught. And now I'm going back into the game to pick up some extra spending money."

With that I entered the stalls, was laid on my back and entered by Trevor again. "I was hoping I'd get to fuck you again. For a Stupid Skank, you're the best fuck I've ever had." We kissed as he hammered away on my sperm drench cunt.

The fucking frenzy lasted well past midnight. I lost count of the number of times I'd been fucked. I estimated that the other three trophy whores would have done all at least all eight themselves in one form or another. We were too exhausted to go back to your cells and instead attempted to sleep on cum stained mattresses in the stalls.

I managed to rise first and kicked at the other trophy whores until they opened their eyes. "All right, fellow skanks, I told these guys to send as many of their friends back here as possible. Looks like we're going to be fucking our asses off for the next few weeks. Last night was just a preseason game."

"You're fucking bluffing," said #6, as she rubbed her raw pussy lips.

"Maybe and maybe not. Just realize that if you bitches want to continue to take me on; I'm going to a fight back. I may lose, but I'm going to inflict as much pain as possible. I swear to fuck, you'll think my flailing your stuck-up asses was a day at the spa."

They looked at each other. All were bruised and sore. "All right, what do you want?" ask #6.

We sat naked in one of the stalls, with sex fluids still leaking for our various orifices. I could tell two of them had never experienced an ass fucking, from the way they gingerly sat on the edge of the mattress.

"First off, I'm the head cunt of the group. You do what I say." I'd always been the one other trophy wives hated back in that other world. We tend to eat our own, and I was the young minnow to the other piranhas or some such fish metaphor. Now I was on top and calling the shots.

"We work as a group and keep the sniping and our natural back biting to a minimum. We've all made mistakes. That doesn't get held against us anymore. If punishment needs to be melded out, I'll be the one to do it and will go as easy as I can get away with."

They looked at each other and appeared ready to debate their options. "You don't get a choice on this one. I lead or we all go to hell."

We spent the rest of the day cleaning our self's up and massaging sore spots. By the evening, we managed to quickly dispatch the standard customers and were in bed by 9 PM. We'd do the bare minimum, work together and have each other's backs. It didn't come naturally to a group like us, but for the next four days, we worked as a team. If Ambrose wanted to break our spirit farther, he'd need to devise something else.

Thursday morning and we sat in the meal room munching down the sustenance rations, when the Ranch Manager came into the room and announced, "We're going on a field trip today." He handed out a simple sun dress, a pair of flat leather sandals and a real tube of lipstick to each of us.

"Where are we going, sir?" I inquired.

"To see an industrial laundry plant." He turned and walked out of the room.

The destination didn't matter. We began to act as if we were getting ready to attend a Grand Gala where dozens of celebrities would be in attendance. The dresses were even different colors and designs. I held mine up against me. I was having a chick orgasm, not a sexual orgasm; a chick orgasm is different and far more powerful. I knew it was another mind game, but it felt so good to know I'd soon be wearing a little stretch knee-high tank top in green and black with abstract butterflies on it.

An hour later we were loaded into the minibus and headed down a dusty road going south. Unlike the last time, we rode on this vehicle, we weren't chained and the four of us trophy whores, giddily chatted and joked, although the Ranch Manager, Smith, our driver, and Mr. Ambrose seemed dour. It made the drive all that much more enjoyable.

Our trip lasted a couple of hours, including a stop at a greasy spoon restaurant off the highway, where we ate real food. Sure, three weeks ago, none of us would have touched that slop, but now it seemed like gourmet cuisine.

Near dusk, we reached the laundry plant. Large trucks were going in and out of the building, emblazoned with the well-known names of various hotel casinos from the Vegas strip. As we disembarked, we could see the lights from the strip in the distance. "Oh, the wild times I had there," said #7. The rest of us nodded our own remembrances, as we gazed longingly at the bright lights.

The Ranch Manager informed us, "We're just outside Clark County. You ladies aren't welcomed there."

We were conducted into the main building through a side door. An immediate blast of moist air greeted us. It smelled of mildew and detergent. The hum of large machines, processing sheets and towels muffled our voices. Every few seconds, the sharp sound of metal hitting metal resonated. Everyone was profusely perspiring when we reached our destination.

We looked at a dozen or so Hispanic women loading sheets into industrial washers. The Ranch Manager gathered the trophy whores into one spot. "So why have we gone to all this trouble to bring you here?"

None of us had an answer. Where they going to put us to work here?

"I'd like you to take a long hard look at the women around you." They took no notice of us as they rushed carts of dirty sheets into one machine as others unloaded wet laundry from others.

He continued, "They are people you've never noticed. They work as your maids, gardeners, food harvesters and in election years serve as talking points for manipulative politicians. You only see what they do for you."

In truth, none us understood where he was going with this.

"They perform tasks that have real value to society. These women provide the labor that allows you to sleep on freshly cleaned and ironed sheets when you stayed at those luxury hotels you used to enjoy."

He looked directly at #6. "I'm sure you weren't aware, but your husband's corporation owns this facility, although he may not specifically know either."

She looked at him blankly. He continued, "The diamond necklace you used to wear to your fancy dress parties, cost more than twice what one of these women earns in a year."

He scanned our blank faces. "Could any of you work here for a week? These women earn minimum wage, which in Nevada is $8.25 for an hour's labor. You've earned about $40 an hour in the last two weeks by spreading your legs. In your married lives, considerably more for the same thing."

We'd traveled a long way just to be insulted, and our faces showed it. He continued, "Who's more useful to this world? Think about it on the way back and maybe some of you will understand the displaced value we place on labor in this world."

"What are we supposed to do?" asked #3. I could tell she was visibly upset.

"All of you are intelligent enough. You could have been nurses, sale clerks, teachers, engineers or anything that would have required effort. You chose whatever was the easiest and even that was too much effort."

With that, #3 began to run toward the door. None of our custodians made any effort to stop her. For all the things she'd be through, Dawn had reached her breaking point. She was gone.

"She's made her choice," pronounced Mr. Ambrose, as we were loaded back onto the minibus.

I thought about what we'd seen earlier on the silent ride back. My own wild nights in Las Vegas seemed as vivid as if it happed the day before, as I stared of the window toward the city lights.

"You know the Hotel Brasília poolside is entirely topless, you'll need something other than just your regular bikini bottoms without the top," Pamela told me with a giggle that day. We were in the hotel mall, and I held up a metallic gold bottom only. It was tiny in the front, but designed to highlight the ass.

Two years ago, Pamela was my best friend. We'd flown into Vegas for a girl's week and had completely done the place so far. We'd already spent a few nights at one of the top hotels on the strip, but now it was time to get raunchy. We checked into the Brasília, one of the exclusive adult establishments that had become the latest of popular decadent hotspots for the elites that could afford it.

"It's a thousand dollars," I said as I held up the bikini and thought how sexy I'd look laying bare breasted in an exclusive poolside setting.

"Get the silver one too," she said with a smile as she sipped from a flute of Champagne.

I handed the two items to the salesgirl assigned to assist us. "I like this place. We need to come every year," I said while looking over the handsome men passing the shop window.

"More like every three months. Damn, those guys are hot. I can't wait to have a few offering to oil me up."

We were booked at that hotel for five days. It offered all night dancing and day spas for our recovery. Everything was the best there, and we took in all of it. The best wine, the best food, the best drugs and of course the best young dudes.

There I met Lyle, the robust scion of a nouveau riche venture capitalist family. He would seduce me that week, or I would seduce him; I was never sure which. No matter, he'd wind up fucking the hell of me for a month.