Ascent to Beauty Conclusion
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Ascent To Beauty Part 3 free porn video
Ascent to Beauty Part 3
By latexslut
Henrietta was in the Cum Pit, sucking his/her first cock.
It had been dreadfully scary for her to descend the steps
and approach the Pit, and curtsey to the gatekeeper, trying
to find a path through all the people. So much noise, and
perfume and flashing lights and strangely dressed people.
Here was a couple, standing dressed in male fetish
clothing, but they looked female, kissing and thrusting at
each other. Slut had looked down and seen a U-shaped dildo
visible when they separated their hips and disappearing
when they met, grunting.
There was someone on the floor, a man of college age,
apparently, being kicked repeatedly by an overweight
Mistress with a pointed high-heeled boot, who was screaming
obscenities. He was moaning apologies, curled into a ball,
on the beer and drink stained tiles. Slut stepped a wide
path away from that.
And there was a huge man holding the body of the smallest,
frailest person, a woman by the looks of the heels and
stockings, upside down, so that her face was level with his
cock. His leather jeans and panties were down at his feet,
and he was bucking her.
And so many more. By the time Henrietta reached the Cum
Pit, even with the vodka, she was shaking. Her training,
the subliminals, the constant videos, had not quite
prepared her for so much decadence, so many people, so many
different types of sex and degradation, all at once,
compacted into one small warehouse. And the noise of music,
screaming, whips, catcalls all blended into discordancy
that reeled her senses. The smells, of cum, latex, leather,
cheap perfume and expensive, beer, wine and other alcohols.
Pot smoke and cigarettes.
She had curtseyed to the gatekeeper. He had turned to look
up at Chantel inquiringly. Chantel had nodded, flipped her
a wrist a bit and then looked away, not even seeming to
notice Her slut.
Henrietta stepped carefully down the three shallow steps
into the Cum Pit, walking with baby steps, for the inch of
cum on the floor was so thick and slippery that she almost
lost her footing with each step.
She tottered to the gap between Dianna, now gloriously in
her element, past the sissy lying sleeping on the floor
through the din, in cum. The gatekeeper, a burly man of
many tattoos had followed her and turned her to a spot,
which she could climb up to. And serve as Mistress Chantel
had directed her to.
Henrietta stepped up, and instantly there was a group of
men standing there, attracted in part by her day glow
outfit, or maybe her reluctance to start. The cock sprang
out, rigid, large and ready, and she looked up only to be
bonked on the head.
"Don't look at me, bitch. Look at what matters to you."
Hands grabbed her head and now Henrietta was bobbing back
and forth, sticking her tongue out so that the head of the
man's cock could get deeper in her throat.
A passing thought twinged her. He is so much bigger than
me. And then it was gone as she bobbed back and forth. Even
through the noise, she could hear him say, "That's it
bitch, good girl." And on and on. Now she felt someone out
of her side vision shoot his cum over at her, and then as
the man above her, the man with no face, said "Yes, yes,
yes!" she could feel gobs of come slide down her throat,
around her mouth, dribbling out of the corner of lips.
"You spilt a drop, bitch." And suddenly Henrietta was
pushed away, reeling. She fell back into the pit of the Cum
Pit and felt the layer of cum on the floor seep over her,
into her hair, and yet another man shot a load of cum at
her from a distance.
She began to cry. She knew that Mistress Chantel had seen
her get pushed, and that she had not done well enough and
it was all so frustrating, and she stomped her foot,
because she was trying so hard and it wasn't fair. And then
the whip hit her, lashing across her back and leg.
It was the gatekeeper. "Not break time yet, bitchslut.
There's more dick waiting for your attention." He flicked
the whip again, biting her again.
Henry, jumped up, slipped, fell, and jumped again,
curtseying. Then turned and lifted herself to sucking
position. She could feel the cum oozing down her hair, her
face, her latex and everywhere. A new cock was there, even
bigger than the last.
She began bobbing again, eager to please again, eager to
try to please Mistress Chantel. Her vision was shut out.
All there was again the cock in her mouth, the noise around
and the continuous rain of come on her.
And again, and again. Her mouth ached, her corseted tummy
began to fill full, her wig heavy. Henrietta's neck ached,
her feet hurt. But over and over again, knowing that he was
being watched by Mistress Chantel, trying to be good.
Trying, trying...
And repetition faded the time, and the noise, and the time.
And to Henrietta, once Henry, now slut, he found that he
was beginning to like sucking cock. He wondered, in her
weary mind, what it would like, if someone would ever do it
to him. But he didn't think that would be allowed. Ever.
***
But Chantel wasn't watching her Henrietta, not entirely.
Not focused. Something felt wrong. It itched at her, her
seventh sense scratching at her, digging at her mind.
The club was happening like it should. She could see that.
Everyone was either having a good time or being made to
give a good time. Her dears were in the cum pit, except
Yolanda who was doing a reasonable job of licking her
pussy. Money was changing hands, and portions of that,
large portions of that, were dripping into her bank
accounts. But something was wrong.
Maybe I have been doing this too long, she thought. She
sipped her wine, absently. This all tastes stale, like old
beer or wine that has been left in sunshine and was
ripening to vinegar. Where was the excitement? Where was
the joy of kink, of grinding a man or woman into
brainwashed servitude? She looked about her domain and
wondered, for the first time, if it mattered. And then it
hit her.
I miss the intimacy. All these people, giving me my show,
that I wanted, but I've seen this movie too many times.
Slut, will be my final conquest, and a good one at that.
Chantel had felt the first stirrings when they first met,
not so long ago. Slut wasn't bad, just stupid not in mind,
but in some of her decision making. Loyal as a dog. And
Henrietta had listened. Obeyed, listened some more. Slut
had been so grateful, when rescued from the desperate scene
that She, Chantel, herself, had created.
And slut wasn't kinky, not really, no more than she had
been made to be. Chantel felt irony at that.
I should get away. Get away from this. Get away now!
Suddenly it had an urgentness to it. Suddenly things felt
closing in. And now suddenly, Chantel realized she had made
a terrible mistake. Desiree. Desiree. Desiree.
Desiree was only in jail, but insane as she might have
gone, she could get out. She would, even. And soon.
Chantel closed her legs, not even close to orgasm, so
distracted was she, getting a yelp from Yolanda. "Get up,
you whore. Get down there and get the girls. Right now. We
have to go."
Yolanda tried to stand, hit the table, and rolled out from
under it and stood, curtsied and started towards the steps.
That was when the music faded, and the people grew quiet,
as on the main stage, Desiree strode, gleaming in black
PVC, spike heels, her hair in ponytail, her hands holding a
gun. Four leather clad men, also armed, took their
positions on either side of her.
Desiree strode to the microphone, confident. Her makeup was
bitchy, her eyes wild, both beautiful but deadly scary.
"Ladies and gentleman, and sissies too. I am sorry to
interrupt the party," She said, sounding clearly rational
but there was an underlying waver in her voice.
(slut tried to stop his blowjob. He could hear his wife's
voice, feel the anchor of dread drop through his chest.
Desiree sounded very different, shriller, than just a few
days ago. She wanted to look, but the man he was blowing
told him "get her pleasure, slut." So he continued to bob,
back and forth, trying to listen over the man's grunts of
bitchslut bitchslut...)
"There is only one thing, and one slut, that I demand be
turned over to me, before I take my leave," Desiree said.
"Give me that troll, that betrayer, that pure cunt,"
pointing to Chantel, "and my husband, Henrietta slut. They
need punishment. The punishment of the damned. The
punishment of the betrayers. Then I will go. Otherwise,
everyone dies."
And then all hell broke loose.
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