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| Girls' Nightmare Out | Back to N | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
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Girls' Nightmare Out
Rogue Alan
11/0-9/02, revision 2/03
(tattoo/piercing; cheat; stranger; interracial; gang bang; exhibitionism; anal;
prostitution; bondage; lesbianism; mind control; rape)
Part 10
Melissa didn't stop to think about the fact that she was suddenly anxious for
a call from the man who'd ruined her life. She'd tried to sleep after dropping
a passably drunk Kathy at her home, but rest had eluded her. She'd searched
the web, using her own older computer, rather than the family's broadband
connection to hide her 'surfing', a practice she'd spent uncounted hours at,
after being ensnared by Tom. She was certain that there was some way out,
something about Tom that she could learn about, and then trade that poop for
Kathy's and her freedom.
At times, she remembered his casual suggestion that 'recruiting' their friends
would earn them credit, and speed up their release, but she doubted that it
would be enough to matter, and couldn't bring herself to helping the monster
who dangled her future over her head, do the same thing to other women, even
women she hated, as he'd suggested that they think about 'volunteering'. She'd
heard some of the others laughing about it, and felt sick at heart that he
could so totally dominate these women, that they'd even turn on their friends.
Tom certainly wasn't picky about where he got his women, either. There were
nurses, teachers, even otherwise unemployed housewives, judging by the clothes
that she'd seen them wearing as they walked into the apartment, or the things
that they carried. Some of the others seemed quite willing to trap other
hapless woman into the life of sex for safety, though not for pay, she kept
telling herself. Tonight had been the first time that she'd been glad that she
had a 'pimp' to take care of problems, never considering that he was the
indirect cause of Kathy's situation to begin with. That mix of loyalties, like
the conflict between wanting to feel Tom inside of her and hating what he was
doing to her, kept her up more nights than not. She glanced up at the clock
over her monitor. It was 3:00 AM Friday morning. She wondered if the weekend
would be her own, or if he'd steal more time from her again. Resigned to the
fact that she'd probably be 'working' again, she paused in the kitchen,
quickly downing a glass of Merlot, then returned to her bed, hoping to get
some sleep.
The call came at lunch the next day, they always came at lunch. It was a
woman's voice, and for a moment, Melissa longed to be the one getting time off,
by sending other women out to appease strange cocks. The woman told her to
wait, and a moment later, Tom was on the line. Melissa felt a familiar
combination of attraction and loathing, for once, more the former, considering
she was sure that he'd help Kathy. Before she could speak, he broke the silence.
"You did well, last night."
"Did the... did Fred, " he'd warned them not to ever use the name 'John' or
the customers' real names, in the few situations where they even learned them,
when talking on the phone, "enjoy the movie?" There was a dry chuckle.
"Oh, both he and his buddies most certainly did. But I'm talking about your
friend, and her... situation."
Melissa swallowed, nodding though he couldn't see her.
"I have a job for you both tomorrow morning. Should be finished by about lunch
time. And I'll get her the necessary equipment then."
She was sure he meant another morning after pill.
"What about..." she stopped short, not wanting to anger him.
"About what?" he waited.
"Shouldn't she be tested?"
"Oh, she will be. Has been, in fact, by now. Don't you worry about that. Just
be at the apartment together at 7:00 tomorrow morning."
The line went dead before she could protest that it was too early, though the
protest had already died unspoken, as well. Her hand was shaking, as she hung
up, and she ducked into her classroom, opening a drawer, and pulling out the
thermos that she'd begun carrying with her to school, sometime in the second
week of her being a prostitute.
It had been the Friday after the first time he'd separated the two of them.
She'd left school early that first afternoon after she'd sat down at lunch to
calculate how far she'd gotten into 'paying her debt'. She stared in horror at
the number of men that she'd roughly figured she had sex with. Including the
Saturday, and sometimes even Sunday tricks that Tom had demanded, she'd slept
with approximately forty men in less than two months, including the men in
Las Vegas. She'd spent the afternoon wandering through her home, comfortably
numb on all of the rum she could find. And she'd regularly turned to alcohol
to relax in the subsequent days.
At night, it was wine, enough that she was compliant and could tolerate Jeff
doing whatever he wanted, which to her relief seemed no different than they'd
done before she'd become a 'pro'. She tried to enjoy it, and hated herself for
imagining Tom at times when they made love, denying it as being anything but
guilt at the whore she'd become, and hating that she couldn't show her husband
things that he'd enjoy more, without risking his curiosity at how she'd learned
such facts and techniques. And as sick as she felt whenever she looked at it,
she'd kept track of her 'work record' at school. That way Jeff couldn't
possibly stumble upon it and ask questions. And in case a curious student or
fellow teacher saw her record, it was intentionally cryptic, 'plane 7',
'theater 7', 'movie 9'. No real decipherable information. The running total
was even a help at times, as she reasoned that she could be free of Tom in
only a year at the rate he was using her.
At other times, she was sure that she'd already gone too far, and knew that
whatever Tom did, she'd never be the same woman again. No one, not Jeff, not
Tom, not the other teachers or her students, seemed to have noticed any change
in her though, and she chose to interpret that as her being in control, she
didn't have a problem, except for the obvious, she was now a whore.
That thought of that term prompted another hit of the Crown/coffee mixture,
and then she put the thermos back into her desk, telling herself that the
arousal she was trying to ignore, was caused by the knowledge that Kathy would
be all right, and not that she would see Tom again soon.
Obeying Tom's instructions, Kathy had taken an early lunch, driving straight
to the clinic that he had indicated. It wasn't advertised, except in small
block letters on the glass of the front door, but inside, the place smelled
like every hospital that she'd ever visited. She sat on the barely adequate
furniture, after ringing a buzzer, positioned on the desk, and tried not to
think about the additional two weeks that Tom had demanded for her letting a
'John' cum inside of her, not the accidental 'dose', as he termed it, but the
second and third times.
It embarrassed her that he knew so much, just as she'd been embarrassed when
she'd gone back to the apartment, looking for more sex with him two days after
they'd gotten back from Las Vegas. She'd known then that she needed more of
him, at whatever the cost. He'd laughed, asking where Melissa was. Kathy knew
her friend was as hooked on Tom's cock as she was, but the little blonde had
more to lose in her family, and so had been better at denying her needs. And
so she hadn't told Melissa of the visit.
She forced such thoughts aside, acutely aware of the predicament she faced
presently, possibly pregnant with a black man's baby. A few minutes passed,
and the window at the side of the room slid open, and a matronly woman asked
her name, clucking as she checked her schedule, why Kathy wasn't sure. The
woman told her it would be a minute, and then left Kathy sitting, wishing she'd
brought a book with her.
She'd gotten home the night before to find Fred sleeping across the middle of
their bed, luckily a king size one. Like Melissa, she'd tossed throughout the
night, until the alarm was about to ring anyway. Trying to wake fully beneath
yet another pounding shower, and resisting the urge to drag the showerhead
down to again scour her betraying cunt, she'd tried to ignore what she'd felt
the night before, before the condom tore, telling herself to focus on what
such behavior could cost her.
Unlike Melissa, there weren't any kids to worry about, but she had no doubt
that she'd lose her job, her friends, and everything she that knew and was
comfortable with. She blinked, a sudden image of the 'outed' Kathy, turning
tricks on the street like a common whore danced behind her eyes. It would be
the only thing that she was good for. She wondered if Tom would have a use for
her, if and when Fred divorced her, and made no attempt to hide the truth from
herself, they'd already been perilously close to divorce.
She'd known that he was cheating for some time, but hadn't concerned herself
with his affair, so long as he let her do what she wanted, too. Increasingly,
that'd been going out with Melissa. She squirmed, feeling some impossible
guilt that she'd probably brought it on them, by somehow playing up to Tom
that night in the bar. The night neither could remember. She wished that she
couldn't remember the nights since, the time that she began spreading her legs,
and letting total strangers have her in whatever carnal way that they desired.
It sickened her that she enjoyed their touch more often than not, and that she
woke up wanting to feel Tom's touch again, especially the feel of his cock in
her cunt. She shifted in the poorly padded plastic chair, scandalized when her
thoughts wandered to a similar sensation, she'd been pushed back into the
plastic seat of an impressive basketball arena, her ankles draped over the arms
of the two chairs on the next row down, as an entire basketball team had taken
turns fucking her, Melissa and a redhead whose name she couldn't remember, or
had never known. Tom didn't like his girls 'fraternizing' with each other,
unless, like Melissa and her, they were brought in together.
The trio had endured that humiliation one Thursday, slightly more than a month
ago, just a few days after they'd met the redhead, and spent a morning simply
lying beside one another, as one man after another took his turn rutting into
one or the other of the trio. Tom had explained that they'd been visitors at
some business convention downtown. She tried to remember which had been better,
her taking eight impossibly big black men, a Hispanic fellow, and a single
white player, who all stood around watching one another go at it, while
laughing and joking, and comparing the women, as if they were inanimate
objects.
The businessmen had almost been embarrassed to see their fellow conventioneers
rutting away on the same bed, though none of them had decided to skip the
balling of one of Tom's whores. So the callous attitude of the players rankled
her more, but they'd been a better group of studs, she admitted to herself.
She remembered feeling jealous, when she heard one of them talking about how
good Melissa's cunt had felt, and how she'd began to hump at the fellow
fucking her just then, anxious to make an impression on a total stranger. Then
she shivered, remembering how close it'd been for her that night, she'd had
none of the handful of condoms she'd grabbed left at the end of the night, and
she'd returned to the grimy studio apartment, knowing not to take anything for
granted. She doubted that without Tom there, they would've stopped when she
ran out of rubbers.
The review of her recent 'activities' moved forward to the next Saturday,
after Tom had separated her from Melissa. Kathy had found herself in the
company of a heavier, but more stacked brunette, and a black woman who thought
that she was God's gift to mankind, or at least to it's men. The foursome of
Asian businessmen that they serviced weren't hung like most of the men Kathy
had gotten used to taking between her legs, and they were more contemptuous
of the women that they were using, than Kathy had imagined possible.
They even used condoms at a prodigious rate. What with the frequent switching
from mouth to ass to cunt and back again. With each change involving her ass,
Kathy had demanded that they change their 'raincoat', which angered the men,
and seemed to fuel their abusive attitude. It was the least pleasing encounter
that she had endured to date, at the two hour mark, she wasn't even fully wet
yet, and was thankful for the lubricant that she'd applied liberally before
leaving the apartment.
In the midst of changing the sheath on an impatient, angry, older executive
who'd just viciously fucked her in the ass, and now wanted her cunt, she
realized that the black girl was getting much better treatment. Watching, she'd
quickly guessed the reason, the girl wasn't doing oral with a condom. Anal and
vaginal yes, but she'd suck them like a tigress, and in fact had the baggy
'female condom' between her legs, making it easy to switch between oral and
vaginal as well.
If there'd been any consolation, it was that the ebony goddess took more of
the men's loads than Kathy and the other brunette combined. She'd also endured
almost no ridicule, whereas by the night's end, Kathy had wondered if she'd
somehow been transformed into a hideous witch, by her weeks as a whore, as no
man had ever treated her so badly, and it'd been a struggle to hide her hurt
from Melissa.
The thought of her friend eased the anxiety that Kathy had felt building. If
there was a single positive outcome from the mess, in which both women were
trapped, it was that their friendship, no, it was more than that, their
relationship had blossomed. She blushed at the warmth that the thought quickly
built between her thighs, but she didn't stop the memory, enjoying the mental
images of that first night. Even after the orgy on the flight back from Las
Vegas, she'd never felt so feminine, had never enjoyed such pleasure, as she'd
known from being with Melissa. She longed for more, and thought her friend
felt the same way, but the whole of their subsequent time 'together' had been
co-opted by Tom and his endless 'service' requests.
A noise drew her from her reverie. She looked up to see a man in scrubs eyeing
her from the door between the sliding window and the empty desk. He looked
vaguely familiar. He had dark black skin, which wasn't a requirement, but
seemed the usual for the men she'd 'met' in the last three months. She wondered
briefly if she'd 'known' him, but knew that she'd never forget the men who'd
used her. It seemed a ridiculous consideration, until she remembered it was
the place that Tom had sent her, the guy knew her pimp at some level. She had
a queasy sensation she'd been with this guy before, but wasn't 100% sure. He
smiled neutrally at her, asking her to 'join him', and Kathy moved to obey, a
nervous flutter touching her stomach, as she wondered just what lay in store
for her.
"You look nervous." he said, and the voice was vaguely familiar, as well.
"I am. I assume you know why I'm here?" she asked.
He nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "It's just a couple of tests. They'll
be done in no time."
He helped her to sit in a padded exam chair, setting her arm on the fold down
armrest. He then gathered some equipment from the counter along the wall. He
deftly applied the tourniquet, snapping the vein that popped up on her arm,
and swabbing it with alcohol. He stabbed a small needle into the vein, released
the tourniquet, then taped the length of tubing to her arm, the little plastic
tabs at the needle's sides, holding the needle in place. He collected her
blood in a syringe, dividing it into three tubes, then set a plastic cap on
the line, leaving it taped in place.
"You'll also need to give me some urine." he said, handing her a cup and
pointing to an open bathroom stall, "Sorry about the door, but for work exams
we have to witness it, you understand."
She nodded absently, still trying to remember where she'd heard his voice
before. She was almost sure that he'd been between her legs some time in the
last three months, and the thought that she couldn't remember was both scary,
but exciting, too.
Midway through her filling the cup, she remembered, the film they'd 'acted' in.
That's where she'd heard the voice, just before she'd felt him slip into her.
He'd been almost as big as Tom, and good enough that she'd gotten off twice
before he'd stopped, filling the condom that he was wearing. She wondered if
she should mention knowing him, a naughty voice somewhere in her head
suggesting that he could 'have' her fully', then give her the pill for which
she'd come to him for. She resisted giving into that impulse, aware that at
the least, it could lead to a punishment from Tom.
She dropped her skirt into place, and carried the urine container out of the
open bathroom. The tall, well-muscled tech turned, expertly dipping a tiny
strip of paper into the cup, before taking it from her. He repeated the
process twice more, with different strips, then examined them.
Shaking his head slightly he said, "I'm sorry, but if you want to wait, I'll
check the blood value. We don't know if you need the pill yet."
Kathy nodded, her stomach knotted with anxiety.
"You still look nervous." the man said, sitting down beside her after he'd set
the vials of blood into a tiny window in the wall, closed the door, and
flipped a switch, "We'll have an answer for you in about eight minutes. Do you
want something to help you relax while we wait?"
Kathy bit her lip, wondering what the man meant. Then she remembered that he'd
left the IV in her arm, and guessed that he meant some Valium. She nodded her
head, and he smiled briefly, as he turned to a smaller cabinet, recessed under
the counter. He snapped the pale green top off of a small clear plastic bottle,
stabbing a fresh needle into the tiny vial, after swabbing the top with alcohol.
He inverted the bottle, the contents jetting into the syringe. He then swabbed
a second vial, with a bit of white powder inside. The liquid was squirted into
the second vial, he swirled the vial with a practiced flick of his wrist, and
after the powder dissolved into the fluid, he drew it back into the syringe.
"Any allergies?" the man asked, and at Kathy's head shake, he swabbed the
stopper at the end of her IV, impaling the rubber surface with the needle, and
slowing depressed the syringe's plunger. When it was half in, he paused,
taking a moment to fill a second smaller syringe with a few cc's of a liquid
held in a green, capped bottle he'd had in his pocket. He returned, looking
down at Kathy, who was now barely conscious, as he added a portion of the
second syringe to the IV, flushing it with the rest of the first drug.
"There, isn't that better?" he crooned, as he smiled.
Kathy nodded drunkenly, the tip of her tongue lolling at the side of her mouth.
Her eyes were half closed, her pupils constricted, her breathing shallow, and
a bit faster than it had been.
"Yeah baby, that'll take care of anything." Michael crooned, smiling to
himself.
The woman had to be a drug virgin to be hit that hard. He bet that she didn't
even drink enough to get seriously hammered. Of course, having learned how Tom
found his women, he understood that they'd be most responsive to the roofie
cocktail that he employed.
Michael had more experience with pharmaceuticals than his mentor though, as
well as a ready supply of drugs, as insulated from his true identity, as
whoever Tom really was protected himself. Pharmaceutical grade morphine was
worth more than it's weight in gold on the street, but it was too risky to
sell to strangers. Michael had puzzled about how to use his contacts for
profit, and then Tom had dropped the answer into his lap. Instead of using the
threat of humiliation and divorce to keep his girls happy, Michael had been
testing a variety of cocktails on his unsuspecting and inconsistent
girlfriends.
His thought was that a bit of drug dependence could keep the girls in line,
though that wasn't his primary motivation, the fear that Tom wielded so well
was too proven to radically alter that method of getting and keeping whores.
Instead, Michael had developed a cocktail he termed the 'induction drug'. He'd
explained it to Tom, claiming that it would assure him that his bitches
remained 'faithful'.
He eyed the striking brunette he'd just dosed. She'd been a great lay that day
that they'd made a 'White Housewife Whores' video. He closed the door to the
exam room where she lay, blissfully unaware of anything going on around her.
Padding into the reception area, he invited the secretary to take an early
lunch, adding that he'd stay and check on the patient, because she'd had 'a
Vaginal reaction'. The matronly woman nodded her thanks and left, in no small
part because Michael had delayed her getting her nicotine fix, a sure means of
keeping the woman from fussing about 'chaperones'.
After waving to her, he closed the door behind her. When she turned the corner
and didn't come back, he threw the deadbolt, locking the plate glass door. He
wondered how Tom had gotten by so well, without resorting to more definite
means of control. After all, what housewife could find a different supplier,
if she were hooked? And what husband would know the signs, and realize that
his wife was a junkie? Of course, getting them to kick, if you were shopping a
whore out, as he'd gathered Tom not infrequently did, could be a problem. But
this one, she was too old to figure that some high rolling sheik would want
her. The blonde she'd been with, though, she might have a real shot at becoming
a harem girl.
He decided then and there, that he'd reserve the drugs for the women who
wouldn't make it to the auction block, but would do well in the numerous
whorehouses dotting the country. Or even those outside of the borders. It was
a booming business, what with the Government shutting off the flow of Latin
American and Eastern European pussy. A little attention to detail, keeping her
dependent, without increasing the dose enough to risk her health, or a strain
on his supply, and 'his new girl', he already thought of them that way, would
do whatever he wanted.
He knew that Tom was opposed to using the drugs so casually, the man was sure
it would backfire on him, and get his carefully constructed prostitute/white
slavery ring torn down. But Mike had gotten a tacit 'OK' to show Tom how it
worked on one of the women, and when the opportunity presented itself, it'd
been too good to pass up. He wondered if Tom had guessed that the brunette
would be their guinea pig, but then decided it probably didn't matter. The man
liked pussy, that was true enough, but he didn't get attached. That was an
important lesson too, Michael told himself, as he finished closing the blinds
and returned to the second exam room.
The woman hadn't changed position. He took a moment, eyeing her, remembering
how she'd looked, spread eagled and stark naked on the rubber mats before. She
was prettier than he remembered, and he suddenly realized that she'd probably
be able to sell on Tom's 'auction block' as well. He was anxious for a moment,
then decided to delay the dependence test, to show how a little pharmacological
help could prevent trouble, or at the least stop those intent on causing
problems from persisting at it.
The dose that he'd given her wouldn't make her dependent on its own, but it
would be a perfect adjunct to the other little wonder that he wanted to show
Tom. He locked the door to the exam room, no sense being careless, and reached
beneath the brunette's skirt, calmly easing her lace panties off. He smiled as
the woman murmured with his touch, lifting her hips to aid his effort. He left
her heels on, untucking the blouse, and reaching beneath it to lift her bra
over her firm globes.
He eyed her nipples, already rising from the cool room air. He moved down and
spread her legs. After pausing to collect some sterile lubricant on his fingers,
he dipped two fingers between her pouting labia. They slipped inside of her
pussy effortlessly, and within four strokes, the woman was moaning softly, and
her body undulating, welcoming the intimate touching of her private place. He
waited in hopes that the narcotic would be wearing off, and her eyes flickered,
opening a bit, as if she was trying to decide what was real and what was a
dream.
He checked the clipboard that he'd grabbed at the front desk, which showed the
values from the automated lab's evaluation of her blood and urine. She'd
caught, so the pill would be necessary. He calmly dispensed one from a bottle
in the locked cabinet, holding it with his now wet fingers, wet from her
flowing juices. Bringing it to her lips, he told her to swallow it, then set
about building her up again, fingering her already open and wanting slit,
while pinching her pert nipples with his other hand.
Kathy felt the need racing through her body, seemingly out of nowhere. She
vaguely remembered asking for the Valium, and watching him prepare it. Then it
was as if she had simply floated away. She looked about, almost giggling when
it seemed to her she was watching a big black man getting ready to have his
way with a white woman. Belatedly, she realized that she was looking at herself,
that was what she was feeling. The knowledge only made the sensation grow, the
building pleasure, and it's accompanying ache for release, were the only things
in her awareness.
There was no thought of her predicament, or Fred. Nothing but her approaching
orgasm, which seemed to buzz in her every cell. She wanted to beg him to fuck
her, and didn't even care about a condom. She didn't care if Tom would get mad
at her and make her trick forever. She had to have this man inside of her
right then.
Then he was pulling her to the edge of the exam chair, and turning her, as he
placed his thick, naked thighs between her's, his manhood jutting at her
crotch, heavy and potent. She whimpered as he slipped into her effortlessly,
wishing that she could make her legs move, wanting to lock him inside of her
thighs, inside of her body. He was her entire world at that very moment, and
as he thrust easily in and out of her, she came like never before, but without
making a sound. She barely moved, though her mind was screaming in delight, as
he fucked into her harder and faster, feeding her need, overcoming any
resistance that might have remained, as to her giving herself to him wholly.
"Oh yeah, that's my whore. That's my little whore!" Michael chanted, as he
fucked in and out of the brunette's clenching pussy.
She'd managed a few moans and groans, and he could tell from the way that her
muscles were undulating, over her flat stomach, that she'd cum repeatedly.
He'd given her the rest of his special cocktail, as he began to fuck her,
wanting her to associate the high of the drug, with the touch of his cock deep
inside of her. He'd read enough about conditioning, to know that the lowered
inhibitions brought on by the morphine and the drug cocktail, as well as the
physical pleasure that he was providing her, would be linked together in her
memory forever. Tying the pleasure of having sex with him, to the effects of
the drugs, would bind her to him, however he chose to use her. Drug hits would
bind a woman to her pimp, or any other man that he chose to use in a similar
setting. Of course, he knew it sometimes took more than one session to get the
woman drooling like a Pavlovian dog in heat when they saw him, but it would
happen, and the way this one was reacting, he doubted that she'd need much in
the way of reinforcement.
He smiled, admitting that Tom could be right, if his little cocktail could
successfully turn the women into slaves for his cock, he could save the
morphine for the periodic cases that needed some 'extra incentive'. It'd
definitely be easier to have them hooked on the sex, rather than the drugs.
He smiled, as he worked his cock in and out of her, in long steady strokes.
She really was an amazing piece of ass, and he was glad that she'd come up
clean on the quick tests, so he could take her without any concern for his own
safety. He smiled, wondering how she'd feel when she came to, in a few minutes.
He needed to cum by then, but had managed to hold off through most of her high,
keeping his focus on keeping her cuming. Suppressing the urge to shout, he
tensed, letting his own climax fly, as he felt her tremors easing, and saw
more purposeful movement in her limbs.
He finished quickly, wiping his still drooling glans on her pubes, then
flipping her skirt down, lowering her bra over her still hard nipples, and
smoothing her blouse down, as if she'd loosened it to provide the urine sample.
Her panties however, stayed in his pocket. He wanted her to dwell on what she'd
done, what she'd felt, while she was at work that afternoon.
He left, turning the lights out and busying himself with other less pressing
tests, that had been provided by a variety of businesses around the town. Like
Tom, his 'side business', operating as a front for one activity or another for
almost two years, had begun to turn a sizeable profit. The gig he'd agreed to
pursue for Tom, had been a test to look for another profitable venture that
Uncle Sam didn't need to know about. It'd proven lucrative in more ways than
money alone.
That thought reminded him of Marcie, the red head he'd been 'recruiting', along
with her friend, a mousy blonde named Karen. The first part had gone just as
Tom had predicted, and he'd already enjoyed a feverish evening with both women.
He'd had a pleasant surprise, when he found out that the blonde was a fireball,
once she got going, and he'd been amazed at the detached way that both women
had let a total stranger forever alter their bodies.
Though Tom had cautioned him to be careful, he'd shadowed both women, curious
as to how they'd react to the blank spot, and the all too obvious changes in
their lives. They'd been slow to begin to chase down the clues that Tom had
insisted that they leave. Tom wasn't wrong either, since it invariably meant
that women who wouldn't agonize too much over 'the big picture', as they worked
themselves deeper and deeper into the quagmire of sex for money.
Tom had repeatedly explained how he found and 'trained' his women, and had
provided Mike his contacts, like the tattoo parlor, for Michael's first
'catch', pointing out the apparatus was already in place, so he might as well
learn to make it work for him, too. Michael was a little bummed, however, that
the jet was no longer available for reinforcing the women's situation, but that
was fine too, as he preferred to keep things completely local. He'd used fronts
to hire out a farmhouse, though he was only really interested in the barn. It
was miles from any other place nearby, and would be perfect to serve as his
women's training facility.
It'd already proven perfect twice, Tom had demonstrated his technique,
ensnaring a mother/daughter combination, who were bringing in loads of cash
for both men, and two sultry co-eds from a local junior college, who'd
reluctantly gone to work at a local strip club, not knowing that they'd soon
be tricking themselves out too.
Actually, Tom had only been a shadow for the second pair, providing quiet
advice, distracting the waitress who started to get suspicious, and serving as
one of the many cocks that Michael had 'introduced' the women to on their
second 'lost night'. His 'Mondays' and 'Wednesdays', as Tom called them,
referring to the night of the week that he'd continue to 'work' them, were
running almost as smoothly as Tom's last pair, which included the brunette that
he'd just thoroughly enjoyed.
Tom had made it clear, that the women had to come away from their first
'introduction to prostitution', as he termed it, liking their pimp's equipment,
and what their pimp could do for them, as well as to them. That'd been no
problem for Michael, who'd found that he enjoyed using his staying power to
get his women off again and again. And whether they'd admit it to themselves
or not, Tom was right, the women wanted more. It was part of what kept them in
line, he was sure of that.
That's what had started his quest to find a way to chemically reinforce that
bond. The question now was, how would she react when she came down from her
high.
It was almost 1:00 when Kathy staggered out into the waiting area, still
reeling visibly, her eyes wide from the recognition of what had happened to
her. She searched for the receptionist, obviously relieved to find her gone.
When her eyes found Michael, they wandered down to his crotch, without any
hesitation. He suppressed a smile, as she tried to compose herself and
approach him, without letting on what she must have guessed had happened.
"Hhhhow did it turn out?" she finally managed to say, blushing, as he
considered before answering.
"Your tests? I'm sorry to tell you, but you caught, you were pregnant. I
already gave you the pill to take care of that. Oh, you have no diseases." he
paused, before adding, "and I must say, that you're tight little cunt is even
more agreeable than it was the first time I had you."
Her blush deepened, but she managed a quiet, "Thanks." as she looked up at him,
as if afraid of his disapproval.
She licked her lips before she went on, "If you ever want to... uh, you know...
just call me." fumbling in her handbag for a card, but Michael held a hand out
to stop her.
"It's OK. I already have your numbers. I'm going to be taking over for Tom."
he informed her.
She paused, as if unsure how to react to that, but a smile spread across her
face after a moment, and she relaxed, happily murmuring something to herself.
He kept his gaze right at the rising points of her nipples, as her body
responded to the knowledge he'd just given her, and his delight at her
physiological reaction battled with disappointment, as he quietly reminded her
that she should get back to work.
Kathy nodded her head, her eyes dropping to the floor, as she hurried past him
and out to her car. She was still swaying, but the after effects of the drug
kept the bright sunlight from slowing her down. A moment later, she was gone,
and Michael was certain that his theory was right, he'd soon have a more
devoted willing stable, than Tom had ever imagined possible. He stepped back
to the desk, picking up the phone. He was willing to bet his partner would
soon be adding this trick to his repertoire.
Safely in her car, Kathy tried to understand what had just happened. She'd
realized it wasn't a dream, as she came to in the heated exam room, and felt
the man's semen seeping from her naked cunt. Her panties were gone, and she'd
felt a lingering worry about possible pregnancy, until she'd gone out, and
that incredible man had told her that he'd already given her what she needed.
It had taken all her will power not to beg him to fuck her again then and
there.
She remembered the pleasure that he'd given her, a more thorough and complete
release than she'd ever thought possible, and she'd quickly admitted to herself
after she had first 'known' Tom, that he was so skilled with his enormous cock,
that she wanted more of him. This man though, it was something more powerful,
a physical need. She was still shuddering with lingering pleasure, she weaved
her way back to work, not caring that she was pantiless, and a stranger's
semen was crusting on her inner thighs. She wondered how she'd ever tell
Melissa all about this.
When she got back to work, the message light on her phone was blinking. She
listened, careful to use the handset, and not the speaker phone. As expected,
Tom provided her with the next day's 'work schedule'. She and Mel were to be
at the apartment no later than 7:00 AM. Deleting the message, she tried to
concentrate on her work, embarrassed every time she found her hand dropping
between her legs, as she sat at her desk, unconsciously frigging herself to
the invasive memories of the day's lunchtime activity.
She kept telling herself to stop, but found it nearly impossible to keep from
masturbating, even knowing that someone could walk in at any moment and catch
her at it. She wondered what exactly had happened at the clinic, but could
think of nothing out of the ordinary, and grudgingly considered whether her
new role as Tom's slut for sale, was turning her into a raving nymphomaniac,
or whether that even mattered to her any longer.
