A little dancing and a lot of humiliation

The CEO greeted Mr. Khani junior with a firm hand-shake. He was shorter than I had expected, and certainly younger. He must have been what… twenty five? Or maybe he just looked young for his age. He was dressed immaculately. He was handsome too. He had picked me out personally then had he? Why me?

“So this is my new girl?” he said, admiring my body, still held in the CEO’s palm, being offered to him. He spoke with a somewhat surprising aristocratic English accent.

I curtsied, not knowing what else to do. Then I started to dance. I wriggled in the CEO’s palm until he finally pulled his arm away and left me gyrating freely.

“I would like to express my sincere gratitude for your kind gift,” Mr. Khani said to the CEO. “Keep bringing them in.”

I heard it, but I didn’t hear it. I didn’t want to hear it. How could I be a ‘gift’? I thought I had been singled out by Mr. Khani junior himself? That was right, wasn’t it? What was all this about ‘gifts’? Maybe it was just bravado, just for show. I knew the CEO liked that kind of thing – I had first hand experience of it, after all.

It made no difference: I was dancing for Mr. Khani junior and I was to be his whore for the evening. But only for the evening. Just a few hours. I was certain of that.

I turned, showing Mr. Khani my number. Whore94. I wriggled it, leaned over, shook it some more.

When I straightened and turned back to face them, the CEO had vanished.

I had been wrapped, stamped and delivered.

The goods were being inspected.

Soon I would be opened, used.

I was one of a number of whores performing for the group of Middle-Eastern looking men. A few of the whores were on their knees, sucking the men’s cocks and lapping at their testicles. A few had been made table-whores and were being dined off. The rest, like me, were dancing.

I saw one of the whores on her knees get a mouthful of ejaculation. I thanked my lucky stars that I was not a cum-drinking whore like her. Absolutely no way I was going to swallow any Middle-Eastern semen. I was a respectable English girl! But maybe they would try? If they tried I would have to refuse. But would I be able to refuse? Was I or was I not a whore? How I hoped I would not have to find out.

Mr. Khani beckoned me closer to him. Oh My God. Was this the moment I had been dreading?

I curtsied politely, and waited for him to speak.

He didn’t. He just pointed at the floor.

Oh shit. He wanted me to kneel then.

It felt strange kneeling before such a young man – a boy really - however grand the reputation preceding him. Ashamedly, I realized my nipples were hard, pointing up at him expectantly. Why was that? Was I enjoying being his whore? No way. No possible way.

“I would very much like you to wear this special necklace,” Mr. Khani said in his perfect English accent.

He showed me the ‘the special necklace’ and I understood instantly. Yes, there was a delicate chain collar that would be worn around the neck. But there were also two further delicate metal chains attached… and at the end of those were what could only be… clamps. He wanted me to wear clamps on my nipples!

I had never worn anything like that before. I had always imagined it would be uncomfortable. Well, that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

Shit. What should I do? Refuse?