Full Rigor

Full Rigor, Pt. 04

(This is a fantasy occurring in an alternative world where legalized slavery is commonplace for serious crime, unredeemed debts, or voluntary self-indenture. Although there is considerable sex, sometimes distasteful and sometimes fun, the focus is on how people interact with each other within the constraints of this slavery--the essence of non-consent/reluctance, because the main characters volunteered for the collar and must now live with the consequences. All characters in this story are over 18. In the real world, slavery, objectification, and forcible sex acts are NEVER acceptable.)

By way of review: Being deeply submissive, Michelle Harkins and George Holmes have voluntarily indentured themselves for one year of service to their spouses, Richard and Shirley, respectively. The new owners have temporarily traded slaves. George found himself kneeling in a supermarket parking lot to orally service Caroline, a good-looking and self-confident acquaintance of Richard, after which Richard promised to lend his slave out for a future evening after his planned poker party. Meanwhile, Michelle fulfilled some of her filthiest dreams--first as a scantily-clad waitress at Mistress Shirley's cocktail party and then having to submit to Bill Stephenson, a handsome younger man with whom she had frequently argued (and indirectly flirted) when they worked together for a primary care physician.

(Michelle Harkins' experience)

"Master Bill" had done a marvelous job of subjugating me and making me acknowledge how much I enjoyed him skull-fucking me, all while Mistress Shirley looked on and insisted that I use a vibrator on myself. I was still swallowing Bill's salty load when he ordered me into the bedroom that Mistress Shirley had invited him to use while dominating me. Both of them certainly knew how to push my buttons; I was in full submissive overload as a naked sex slave while this muscular young guy, my former subordinate at work, followed me into that room and closed the door behind us. His voice was quietly commanding:

"Park you butt on that bed, about half-way down the side, and then slide your ass backwards so that your knees are against the edge." I complied, knowing he had a full view of my naked boobs, trimmed pubes, and blushing face.

"OK, slut." Bill almost grunted. "I know you used to be a dancer, so I want you to lean onto your lower back and show me the widest split you can manage--thighs and legs apart, hands on your ankles." I was in good shape for a middle-aged woman, but it was difficult, not to mention incredibly embarrassing, to spread myself out like that, keeping my balance while putting my breasts, moist cunt, and (probably) anus on full display. He just stared for a moment, then picked up two pairs of handcuffs off the dresser where Shirley had conveniently left them. Almost casually, Bill closed one pair around my left wrist and ankle, then the second pair on the other two extremities, holding me fully exposed. I don't know which was a greater strain, the physical effort to hold myself like that or the humiliation of being on complete display to a guy who was suddenly free to use me as sex toy. Damn. I had never even imagined such a position before, but I suddenly realized that THIS was the kind of experience I had sought when I voluntarily enslaved myself. Being the naked, helpless, EXPOSED object of a younger guy to whom I had given orders only a few months before--what a rush!

I was so distracted by my feelings that I missed him picking up another toy from Shirley's fiendish supply, but I came back to reality with a jolt when I felt him releasing two metal alligator clips, connected by a thin chain, onto my engorged nipples. And then he increased the tension, pulling down on the middle of that chain. I noticed that another chain was connected to the center of my nipple necklace (I guess you'd call it), and at the end of that chain was--AAAH!! A third metal clip that he gently snapped onto my erect and moist clitoris. None of the clips actually drew blood, but they certainly aroused all the neuro receptors on those three pink nubs of my body.

I had trouble dealing with the three sharp pains he had inflicted on my exposed form, and I was still silently adapting to the discomfort when he asked a seemingly-irrelevant question: "Do you remember that you used to complain because I looked so smug all the time when we were talking?"

"Huhh?" was my brilliant response, but then collected my thoughts to reply. "Oh, yeah, you really were infuriating like that. I was trying to explain why your procedures weren't sanitary and you kept smirking at me like you weren't listening. What's that got to do with anything, 'Master'?" I asked, torn between arousal and discomfort.

"Truth was, I usually WASN'T listening, 'Nurse Michelle,'" he replied. "Instead, I was imagining how you'd look spread wide like you are now, inviting me to fuck all your openings."

"I'm glad I was able to entertain you," I murmured through my teeth, gritted against the pain of those alligator clips. "Sorry if I'm a little distracted, 'Master'," I continued, but so what?" By now you could almost see the bent finger quotation marks around the courtesy terms we used to address each other.

"I would think the 'so what' was obvious, slut." He replied, grinning even more broadly. "I want you to help me act out my daydream in two steps. First, if you want me to remove that clip from your clit, you need to ask me politely to fuck your slutty cunt."

That wasn't difficult; truth was, for the past hour I'd been thinking about nothing BUT that substantial rod, which I'd already sucked on, pounding me thoroughly. It was rather humiliating to have to ask him for it, but what the hell--humiliation and sexual use were what I wanted when I indentured myself, so why not? "Please, Master," I began, trying to be as sincere as possible. "Please, will you fuck my slut brains out with your monster cock?"

"Since you asked so nicely, slave, I guess I can accommodate you. After all, I've wanted to pound that cunt for the past five years." So saying, he casually dropped his trousers, rolled down his underwear, and rammed his huge invader--and it truly WAS huge--into my well-lubricated passage in three massive thrusts. Lord, this guy could fuck--imagine all the opportunities I had missed over the past few years! True to his word, on his first withdrawal he disconnected the clip on my erect clitoris but continued to toy with my breasts and pull on the chain connecting them, not to mention tongue-fucking my mouth as he quickly increased his speed until my entire body, and even the bed itself, were shaking each time he invaded me. The muscular stress of my bound position only increased the sensations of being ravished between my widespread thighs. I loved and still love my husband, but if I'd known what a fantastic fuck Bill was, I would have cheerfully committed adultery years earlier! Or at LEAST invited him to join our BDSM club so I had a chance to get some of that large-caliber cock inside me.

In moments, we were both panting, sweating, and emitting senseless phrases such as "Ummm. Yeah! What a nice piece of ass! Such a good little bitch," on his part, matched to my equally-vehement "Right there!! Ooooh. POUND me, Master, PLEASE. Don't stop--FUCK ME, PLEASE, FUCK MY SLAVE BRAINS OUT!"

That dialogue should tell you how much I enjoyed myself, and I think he enjoyed dominating me almost as much. Trouble was, just as I was begging him to keep going, he suddenly pulled out, leaving my orgasm (and his) unconsummated. The pain of those alligator clamps on my nipples, temporarily suppressed by the endorphins of fucking, returned with a vengeance. After moaning petulantly, I gasped "Why did you stop, Master?"

That damn smirk that had irritated me so often was back on his handsome face, even though I got the impression that he regretted not having finished in me. As we both panted for breath, Bill finally managed to get out:

"Remember, slut, that I said I wanted to fulfill my dream and yours in two stages? Well, I've already put your mouth to much better use than arguing with me, not to mention banging your few brain cells out to make you a more responsive bitch. So now, if you want me to take those clamps off your tits and finish you off, you need to ask me, very politely, to fuck your wise ass. How about it, 'Nurse Michelle?'"

He had me just where he wanted--he'd already humiliated me thoroughly and aroused me completely, but since I wanted him to get me off, I'd have to play his game to the end. After the fact, I burned with humiliation, but at that moment I barely hesitated before almost shouting, "Please fuck my wise ass, Master, like I deserve. PLEASE, ream the shit out of me!"

Thank God he didn't drag things out any longer--I suspect he was almost as eager to come as was I. Instead, Bill rolled me fully onto my back, tilted my legs upwards, and hung them over his forearms. A bottle of lube appeared as he gave me the cold surprise up the ass, but I was grateful for his consideration when his oversized battering ram (and I'm serious about the size) speared my anus and stretched me to the max. I'll give him credit for waiting a minute after he invaded my helpless body, allowing my stressed muscles and membranes to adjust. But at the time it seemed like only seconds before he resumed the pumping action, quickly increasing until he was ramming my rectum as hard or harder than he had taken my cunt a minute before. Because only my shoulders were in contact with the bed, I swayed and vibrated even more with each thrust--there was no question that my slave body was completely in thrall to him.

No doubt about it, I really was a slave whore of the most adject, horny type--in that moment I got all the humiliation and domination I had craved, and I LOVED it. No sense of betraying my husband, no guilt, just a glorious thrill. That handsome son of a bitch, with whom I had feuded in the physician's office, looked supremely masterful and desirable as he smirked down at me, completely occupying the last and most private cavity in my body. At the same time, he milked the maximum out of the situation in terms of making me not his former supervisor or even an equal but rather a total slut, bent almost in half and begging to satisfy his will and pleasure. I had had many marvelous orgasms making sweet love with my sometimes-dominant-sometimes-submissive husband, but this was different. Even if I were not already a slave, Bill established beyond any doubt that I was his property, his to do with as and when he pleased. Had we suddenly been transported back to that medical office, I could never again have looked him in the eye and would willingly have knelt on the clinic floor and sucked him off on order. This was not about male chauvinism or male-female dynamics in the workplace; he had clearly laid claim to my body and even (I hate to admit it) my mind. Damn, what a fucker!

At least he was magnanimous in victory, slamming repeatedly into me as we both came. Once he caught his breath, Bill got a warm, wet washcloth to clean the copious fluids off my crotch and buttocks. After he removed the alligator clips and hand cuffs and helped me to my shaky feet, he gently kissed my cheek and gave me what was, I guess, his highest accolade: "I always thought you would be a passionate lover and a superb piece of ass, Michelle. Please tell your husband I'll be in touch, and I'll pay top dollar to rent that body again as long as you're wearing a collar."

I should have been outraged that he had used my slavery and my sexuality to conquer me, reducing an independent mind to an abject sex object for his entertainment. Instead, I kissed HIS cheek and responded with a soft "Thank you, Master."

Enslaved less than a week, I had gotten the subjugation and pleasure I sought, and for the moment it had practically broken my independent will. Or perhaps it might be more accurate to say that I had traded so much self-respect for pleasure that I had little left to lose--I would gladly debase myself again if he would thrill me by similar use.

(

George Holmes' perspective

)

Richard Harkins' poker party had the potential to be humiliating, but it actually went off without a hitch. It was embarrassing to be a naked, collared servant in the presence of five men and especially two good-looking women, but aside from the women fondling my butt when I came within reach, people ignored me and nothing much happened. Richard did offer my "services" to anyone when they took a stretch break after an hour of play, but only one of the women--a relatively young and attractive one nicknamed Kiki--took him up on the offer. Kiki, of course, wasn't going to flash the other players at the poker table, so she took me into "my" bedroom, closed the door, and had me kneel to lick her to climax. I imagine they could hear her appreciative moans when she came! After years of servicing my dominant wife this way, I was accustomed to "dine at the Y" several times per week and more often if we were playing a sexual scene at the club; Shirley not only got off physically from my well-practiced tongue but enjoyed "forcing" me to service her. Since I had self-indentured myself, however, Richard had scrupulously avoided any contact with me because neither of us was naturally inclined to homosexual activity, even though I would have willingly sucked him off and convinced myself that I was only doing my duty to my owner/wife. Except for Caroline, however, the woman to whom Richard had lent me at the grocery store, I had no sexual contact of any kind during that first week in a collar. (I didn't count jerking off, which Richard occasionally allowed by removing my chastity belt at night.) So, licking Kiki was almost enjoyable by comparison.

Two days after the poker party, Richard did tell me that Caroline had reserved me for that Saturday. Richard was very matter-of-fact about delivering me to her, just cuffing my hands together in front of me, belting me into his truck, and driving me over to her apartment. Most of what transpired was expected and boring--I spent several hours making her beds, doing her laundry, moping or vacuuming her floors, and so on. I was only slightly surprised when, at the end of that effort, she cuffed my hands behind me, bent me over the back of an upholstered chair, and tied my ankles apart to the back legs of that chair. She whacked my butt a few times with a leather belt, but I'd suffered far worse from my own wife/ mistress, so I just played along, moaning sharply after each stroke. Then things got serious--I felt her fingers dabbing some liquid, presumably a lubricant, onto my exposed anus. (I had half-expected this, giving myself several enemas that morning.)

Caroline seemed to relish the role of being the fucker rather than the fuckee, crudely referring to my rear end as a "boi pussy" that she was looking forward to "plowing." After a pause, she walked around the chair and showed me that she had removed her trousers and strapped a harness and (rather substantial) dildo around her middle. Having experienced similar treatment from Mistress Shirley, I immediately saw that this woman was experienced in pegging, as she had cinched the strap-on tightly over her mons so that any pressure on the dildo would be communicated to her clit. Again, because Shirley had often role-played sodomizing my mouth, I was familiar with what to expect, and was able to breathe around that plastic rod as Caroline gradually probed my mouth and throat more deeply. Although there was little flesh-on-flesh contact, Caroline continued to pretend she was the sexual aggressor, telling me what a "good little cocksucker" I was and claiming to take great pleasure from face-fucking me; as I said before, the only physical (as opposed to mentally dominant) enjoyment she received was the friction of her harness against her clit.

That, of course, was just play-acting in preparation for the ultimate physical and mental experience of butt-fucking. Caroline continued to talk as if she were the male invader but thank heavens she was patient and relatively gentle about penetration. She was not, of course, as familiar with my rectum as was my owner/wife/lover, but at least she didn't pound away as if my intestines were infinitely elastic. In fact, except for the vicarious enjoyment I got from licking Caroline and Kiki, this was the first real sex I'd had in a week. I know, I know--what kind of perverted male enjoys being pegged by a strange woman? But it WAS kind of fun for both of us and compared to the threat of being sodomized by a male, this was actually enjoyable. Besides, Shirley had done my ass many times, and the feel and smell of a soft female body rubbing against me while she pumped in and out brought back many happy, loving memories. My sighs of pleasure were unfeigned--getting pegged was more than mildly enjoyable as she set off the neurons in my intestines and bumped my prostrate until I dribbled out my accumulated jism. And AFTER that, she released me for an extended period on my knees, between her thighs, which was equally familiar and enjoyable. So far, slavery was not even beginning to fulfill my fantasies of sexual subjugation, but at least being Caroline's sex toy was more fun than lying in bed alone, waiting for sleep and wondering what Mistress Shirley was up to.

*****

(

Michelle Harkins' experience)

Truth to tell, I think Mistress Shirley was bored out of her gourd--the only slight enjoyment she seemed to get was exposing me to further sexual use and humiliation, but since that was what I wanted as well, I didn't object. I couldn't, anyway, having surrendered any rights over my own body.

Shirley's favorite version of the humiliation game, of course, was pimping me out to Bill Stephenson. Even though Bill worked on her surgery team, she was always careful to "negotiate" her price for my use AFTER he came over, so I would be present. The two of them were obviously playing a gamen to humiliate me. Shirley would begin by demanding some very high price--one time, $500--for the use of my body, and the allow Bill to "bargain the price down" to some ludicrously low fee, such as $5.25 for a blow job and $12 to "stuff that tight little butt." Sometimes she would add a proviso that the sheets had to be clean after we finished, but that, of course, meant ME doing the laundry and remaking the bed. While I did that, Bill's semen was dripping out of my freshly-stretched lower openings and he and Shirley had prolonged medical discussions about their work together, of course pretending that Slut Michelle had no medical knowledge. Sometimes they had such a conversation while his massive prick was still buried in my mouth or butthole! I knew they were deliberately yanking my chain, and occasionally heard them laughing together when I was out of the room doing chores. What the hell--they got some amusement out of it and Bill and I both got off sexually, so why should I object? Isn't that why I had turned myself into a sex slave?

Another variation of the "humiliate Michelle" routine was to take me for a "walk," with me of course slave naked except for flip-flops, collar, cuffs, and leash. Shirley was careful to avoid playgrounds or other places where children congregated, but otherwise all bets, like all my clothes, were off. She particularly enjoyed finding several adults sitting on park benches, then putting on a show for them. Sometimes she would leave my hands cuffed behind me and play "fetch," tossing a tennis ball past the audience while I had to run after it naked, my hair, tits, and buttocks bouncing, then kneel down with thighs apart, further flashing the adult observers so I could pick up the ball (with my teeth or with the hands cuffed behind my back) and run back, everything jiggling again, to return the ball to my mistress. The braver of the strangers we encountered soon struck up a conversation about the joys (for Shirley) of owning a slutty slave who was required to do anything the Mistress directed. This led to one of two very similar scenarios: if the strangers were nice and/or good looking, Shirley would generously order me to kneel at their feet and use my mouth to entertain them, pushing my head into their crotches or under their skirts. This usually ended with a faceful of cum or female juices, all while she talked with them as if nothing was happening, except to emphasize the advantages of owning a "horny little bimbo." On the other hand, if the strangers were at all repulsive or obnoxious, Shirley would play the bargaining game, often ending up with me, hands still cuffed behind my back, bent over the back of a park bench so that one male (or sometimes female) could use my mouth while behind me another male would cheerfully ram first my twat and then my butt! One time a stranger figured out that she was trying to humiliate me, so he disparaged my "over the hill, sagging body," bargaining the price down until my mistress rented out my ass for a grand total of 57 cents! Mistress Shirley even took a few photos with her cell phone, being careful to feature my face while avoiding that of my user. Then she would send the photos to my husband/owner, to Bill Stephenson, and to random other people who knew me, especially my friend Cheryl. Eventually, she would walk me home as I shivered in the late afternoon breeze and again dripped come out of my lower orifices.