P02E07

A little applause went around the table when she finished.

Sam addressed Ben again, as he gestured at the menu: “And she’s not supposed to cum, right? No matter what we buy from here?”

“That’s exactly right… well, except when you buy her an orgasm from the menu, of course. But they don’t come under a thousand. “

“Seems hard to believe… a girl cannot endure that kind of fucking power over the course of hours without cumming, right?”

“Well, this one can, usually. But she isn’t flawless, indeed. That’s what this is about. Can my guests devise a delicate recipe of sensations to send her spinning down into orgasm without buying it for her? You’d all receive the whipping menu over dessert, you know… some of you really enjoy spending money on some of the dishes on that menu! Cane strokes may not be cheap, yet they are popular orders among some of our richer clients! Isn’t that so, Harry?”

The addressed man wasn’t a picture of social skills. He sat a few seats away from me, and hadn’t said a single word all evening. His face was like a mask, and even now no expression showed on it. There was something sinister about him,wearing tinted glasses and a small mustache. Apparently the kind of man who would invest a small fortune to watch a young girl get whipped, it flashed through my mind.

I looked at Lara again. There had been no new orders from the menu, so the machine was just keeping up the steady one-hertz fuck. She was panting under the pressure, though it didn’t seem like she was at the edge of cumming yet.

There might have been some sort of a stalemate, when Pete the Pervert said: “I’ll buy a depth change for her. Another two inches. “

“A wise choice indeed, Pete”, Ben said. “When a girl gets fucked too superficially, she may just stop noticing at some point. A few inches of depth will remind her of her position for sure!”

He took the control panel again and turned some more knobs. There was some whirring and clicking at the machine, and the wheels connected in a different way to the levers before returning to the regular fucking motion. When they did, it was immediately clear that she was getting fucked much harder now. The fucking speed hadn’t changed, at a merciless thrust every second, but each thrust nailed her down much deeper.

And it showed. The fuck was clearly harder to take for her. The moaning increased, and her mouth opened half an inch more as she coped with the ruthless thrusting even deeper into her pussy now. I contacted her eyes again when the platform revolved to my end, but there was no recognition in her glance anymore. She was just getting fucked, and nothing else mattered.

The men returned to their conversations.

“So how is your own wife, Eric?”, Pete asked.

“Well, getting there, I suppose. She isn’t really a fast grower, I have to corrupt her very slowly. Sex isn’t really a good tool for her, she still seems to be a bit frigid when you take her hard and deep. But, we are making good progress in the pain and humiliation fields. I think I can soon bring her here for the first time.”

“That’s great, Eric!”, Pete responded, “you know how much we enjoy a fresh girl on her debut! Don’t wait too long, I’m really looking forward to play her very soon! We could maybe set something up with her and my wife, some sort of lez play?”

Eric made a throwing gesture, and there was some disgust on his face. “Stop offering her, man. No one is interested in Rachel anymore. How long have you been with her now, 20 years or so? She must be over forty! She’s really too old now, you should replace her with something fresh sooner rather than later!”

“She may be old, but she still has the finest fucking technique I have ever encountered. Experience also counts for something, you know. Of course I don’t mind a green leaf every once in a while, but I’m still shooting my best shots into her.“

I had a small chuckle when I realized that these men who were just a few years away from their pensions were calling a 40-year old woman ‘old’, but no one else took any notice.

Eric continued: “Better be careful, man… it sounds as if you start caring for her!” Despite the fact that a round of laughter broke, I wasn’t completely sure that he didn’t mean it at some level. Did a man love his wife when he kept her in slavery, I wondered?

A redheaded man at the other end of the table bought another speed increase for Lara, taking her to two thrusts per second.

As Ben was turning up the knob to comply, Eric turned to me, and said: “So you’re staying with Howard, right? Are you enjoying it so far?”

“It has been… exciting and fascinating, yes,” I said.

“Well yeah, Marcy is a fine piece of slut for a young stud. She performed fine when I borrowed her over Easter, remember Howard?”

Howard nodded, and added: “And when I bring her here, she doesn’t disappoint any of you either, I think.”

“Yeah. Your uncle is very generous for supplying her to you. Still she isn’t your own, of course, just a lend.“

He gestured his glass to a waitress, and started thoroughly groping her ass cheek as she poured. He pushed her away before the glass was completely full though, raised it for a sip, then said: “But don’t you worry, son. We’ll set you up with a fine fucktoy of your own soon, won’t we guys?” There were affirmative hums, as he turned to Howard: “Emily, wasn’t it?”

“Aw, Eric. I hadn’t really discussed that with Jason yet. But it’s OK, I was planning that soon, anyway.”

A cold hand of panic had grabbed at my throat. This new world of sexual libertines I was discovering somehow didn’t have any connection with life as I had always known it - conservative, predictable, slow, prudent. And Emily was a part of that world, not this one. The thought of her opinion about this one sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I was sure she would loathe it, disgust it, reject it, and me alongside with that. Of course I had enjoyed the guilty pleasure of apping her while Marcy was giving me a blowjob, but the pleasure of that had been mostly in the little joy of having a secret. I had taken full measures to ensure she wouldn’t find out, and I certainly couldn’t imagine her venturing into this club at some point in the future.

Apparently Howard had followed right along my line of thinking, for he said: “Yeah, unimaginable, right? That innocent little girl of yours, too shy to show a nipple to her boyfriend after two years, transferred into a happy and voluntary fuck slut like her? “, he gestured to Lara, as the machine kept plowing her in its relentless vigor. I noticed how her body was in motion in a constant flow, as her muscles coped with and responded to the continuous fuck. I tried to glue Emily’s face to her body in my imagination, but it didn’t work. I shook my head.

Howard continued: “Believe me, it is not as impossible as it seems. Of course, there are girls who don’t have what it takes to enjoy the depraved life of a full time slut… but they’re only few. Most of the others never talk about it, let alone act on it, but the secret fantasies of women are usually about control, submission, and servitude. These fantasies are what gets their pussies moist, they are the scenes in their minds when they have a quick rub in the office toilet, or the dreams they have while their husband is doing his vanilla thing on top of them on a saturday night. They will never admit it, of course, it doesn’t fit into any role model that modern society says they should follow… and yes, they will be outwardly defensive and rejective. But they also feel the power of it, and they feel it where it matters, in their pussies. From there, all we have to do is guide them to that feeling… eliminate the oppressive power of the social taboo, cultivate the appreciation for hornification, build it up into a devotion, and make them feel the enormous sexual energy in putting all of that into the hands of a man. From there, you can take them anywhere you want, and they will love you for it every second. “

“You don’t understand”, I muttered, “Emily is not like that…”

“Well, don’t take my word for it. Why don’t you ask Lara here, how that worked for her?”

Again, she had to contain herself a bit to speak, then she replied to the rhythm of the strokes of the machine: “I was lonely… insecure… socially awkward… following goals… because others… wanted me to… schools, jobs… houses, cars… “

She paused to process a dozen more thrusts driven into her. The men’s chatter around the table had died down, and everyone listened to her when she continued: “Ben... changed… all that… showed me… sheltered me… trained me… cared for me… appropriated me…”

She took another pause as the machine kept banging away at her, then finished: “And now… I am strong… in my vulnerability… free… in my dependence… happy… in my weakness…horny… in my denial…”

She had delivered those words like a ritual formula, not really looking at anyone in particular, but now she turned to me, still speaking to the rhythm of the machine: “Your Emily… when you… love her… give her… that chance…”

She took one last serious look at me, as if to make sure that I had understood her. Then her eyes rolled in her face, and she returned to her primal state of arousal under the meticulous fuck, while fighting the orgasm which became harder and harder to resist.