All For Nothing: Part III free porn video

Here is the last part to "All or Nothing" and I have no further plans to add on to it. Some have suggested that they might want to write within this "universe", creating other stories about Mason and Mason and its club, the Getaway. If you are so inclined, by all means do so. I would only be flattered. Also, if you are so inclined, feel free to post any of my stories here on Fictionmania to any other sites. Again, I would only be flattered. Anyway, this is Part III of "All or Nothing." It begins almost exactly where Part II left off, so if you haven't read Part II, you will probably get very lost very quickly. I hope you enjoy it. All or Nothing III By Trisha Had it been up to me, I might have decided to rest on my laurels for a time and enjoy my relatively modest success within the company. One wife and two female mind-slaves was certainly more than I had ever dreamed of having in my life and getting a fat paycheck at the end of the month made it even more unbelievable. But for Angela, this was just a small taste of our potential. She had much higher goals in mind, goals that usually equated to either "more" or "bigger" stuff. More slaves. A bigger salary. More cars. A bigger house. We still went to the Getaway once or twice a month just to socialize and, more importantly, we would go to matches. Bambi and Sara would come along for the matches and they would be our little toys for the orgies that would follow each victory. And the more often we went, the more experimental we became, switching slaves with other people and sometimes even swapping spouses. In such a sexual frenzy, it didn't matter. I was never bothered in the least if Angela ended up screwing another man, usually because that meant I was screwing that man's wife. It was all fun to me. We got to see some pretty exciting matches too, at least, exciting in what was at stake. One match, for instance, was between two Level 4s going for a Level 3 job. The rumor mill said that the winner got three mansions (one in Europe), his own airplane, season's tickets to the 49ers, and an astronomically large paycheck. But when the match was over, I could tell there was only one thing the victor was thinking: "This bitch is all mine. What used to be my fiercest competitor is now my greatest piece of ass. What's more, I can show him everything he would have had. Every tennis court, every Jacuzzi, every ski trip. Almost his, but not quite." One Saturday night, still less than a year after my match with Ryan, Angela and I saw Ted pin a man named Seth Anderson to win a Level 7 position, bringing him four new slaves (Seth, his wife, and their two slaves), a nicer house, a nicer car, a boat, etc. Angela was livid with me. "You can't stay a Level 8 forever," she said. "But I don't have to become a Level 7 right now, either," I retorted. "Why not?" she asked angrily. "The sooner you advance, the sooner we can benefit." "They only offer the matches as they need to fill positions," I told her. "I can't fight again until a Level 7 position opens." "Well, they obviously just had one open, didn't they?" she said. "And Ted took advantage of it." I told her I would think about it. Mason and Mason never put any pressure on its employees to fight. You only fought if you wanted to and you could only attempt to if there was a slot open. I didn't want to fight. I knew that no matter how skillful you were (or thought you were), luck still played a heavy role. Anybody could lose to anybody on any given day. There was always a risk. And I was no a risk taker. I was comfortable where I was. I saw no need to push my luck, to test fate with an unnecessary gamble. Let people like Ted take those risks, I thought. It would catch up to him in the end. But Angela wouldn't let it go. She became more and more dissatisfied, more and more unhappy; all of which eventually made me more and more unhappy as well. When someone that you live with is constantly pointing out the things you don't have, it begins to have an effect. You start to notice them yourself without prompting. Ted and I would still hang out together, especially at lunch, and as I heard him say this or that, tell this or that story, I began to get the impression that he was flaunting what he had at a Level 7 that I didn't have as a Level 8. He would talk about taking his boat out or having his new secretary replace his old one or he would say that he had just enough slaves to work in his new house. And, after a while, it began to bother me. When a new Level 7 position became available, I threw my hat into the ring. I told Mr. Matheson the day it opened up that I wanted a chance to fight for it. He quickly assured me that I would get that chance. +++ That very same day I found out my opponent would be none other than Tyler Reeve. My arch nemesis and I, it seemed, were going to have one last showdown. The thought of losing to such a man sent a sharp chill down the back of my spine and I immediately got the old butterflies that I had before the previous fight. I knew I was taking a big gamble and I cursed myself for being so greedy. Angela, on the other hand, couldn't have been more proud of me. She said I was finally measuring up to the man she thought she had married and that she had the utmost faith in my abilities as a fighter. She had better, I thought. One of us needed to believe. As might be expected, Tyler was as cocky as ever. He sent me e-mails addressed: "To my bitch" or "To my new secretary" and told me how stupid I was to fight him. "I'm not going to be so easy to throw off, like Ryan," he said. When we met in the hallway, he would slap me on the butt with whatever papers or book he happened to have in his hand and tell me to "get used to it." A lot of guys, he said, would be doing that to me in the near future. His taunting started to get to me. In fact, it started to make me angry. As I recalled, I told him, he got pretty lucky himself when he wrestled Kyle. I certainly wouldn't make the same mistake. Angela, meanwhile, was busy doing her homework again. She pulled up all sorts of files on Tyler and Nadia, none of which I found very interesting. I had known Tyler long enough that any dirt he happened to have on him, which really wasn't much, I probably already knew. He had had a relationship with an older married woman when he was in college, before he met Nadia, and he had had some minor problems with debtors. Big deal. Nadia had even less on her. Nothing on either of them seemed particularly scandalous to me, though Angela seemed to think so. She told me she already had some great "ideas" for them once they were our slaves, but when I asked what they were she acted coy. "You'll see," she said. I hope so, I thought. +++ I was anxious the whole day of the match. I had been tossing and turning the night before, constantly worrying about what was going to happen. If I won, I would get it everything. If I lost, I would lose everything. We had Bambi and Sara make us some breakfast and we sat around the house, watching television and keeping our minds off the coming events. Angela, for all of her confidence, was finally starting to show a little nervousness. There was no turning back now and we knew it. I looked at Bambi and Sara, trying to read my fate in them. In a way, even though I had nearly complete control over them, there was something that distanced us. I couldn't see their thoughts. Were we going to end up just like them? Maybe not tonight, I thought. But if we kept going, kept pushing the envelope, what would happen? How much luck did we have? The limousine picked us up a six that night and took us to the Getaway. Bambi and Sara stayed home, per instructions. All slaves stayed home while you fought. Only the wife came with you. There were only six of us wrestling that night: three matches. Four Level 9s were going for two Level 8s and two Level 8s, Tyler and I, were going for a Level 7. The wives were again sequestered and the men stood around talking as the rest of the guests began to arrive. I tried not to say too much to Tyler and, strangely, he himself had stopped talking smack, at least for the moment. The air was tense, but still, like the moment of eerie silence before a great explosion. Some of the waitresses served us drinks (no, nothing alcoholic for me, thank you) and, to my surprise, some of the guys disappeared with the girls for a while, going into a corner or another room to hump each others brains out. A last hurrah, I guess. Even Tyler did it. But I wasn't about to fall into that trap. With everything on the line, I wasn't going to let myself get distracted for a minute. I needed to stay focused. More and more people came and, before I knew it, the place was packed. Everyone was mingling. Everyone was having a great time. Just like always. No one ever talked about the matches upstairs. It wasn't really a rule that I knew of; nobody simply did it. It was like two worlds: the world the outside saw and the world that the inside knew about. And never the twain would meet. I talked to everyone. I talked to Mr. Matheson, Ted, Cynthia, Nadia, the waitresses, my co-workers... everyone. I couldn't shut up. It was like I just suddenly had the urge the talk, to get to know people. Maybe it was a defensive maneuver. Maybe I just wanted people to care what happened to me. I don't know. Of course, I didn't talk about anything interesting. Work mainly, then sports, then the weather. It was all very superficial and yet it all seemed so suddenly vital. And of course, people wanted to talk to ME, too. They wanted to get a good look at the guy that might not be a guy at the end of the night. The wrestlers were always the most popular people the night of the match. Pretty soon, it was time to go downstairs and prepare for the match. I got a tap on the shoulder from Mr. Adams, a Level 2, who smiled and pointed to his watch. I nodded and left the group I was talking to. I was the last one of the wrestlers to come into the anteroom to wait. Just like last time, everyone sat around quietly, sometimes looking at each other, sometimes looking at the priest, and sometimes just looking at the wall. I tried to keep my spirits high, remembering that Angela would be rooting for me and that I was almost certainly a better wrestler than Tyler. Wendell told us to remove our clothes and form a line. Tyler and I would be the first ones to go; then the rest. So we undressed and waited a few. When it was time, Wendell opened the door and opened it up the crowd. The place was, as always, packed. Here I am again, I thought, as we came down the aisle to the ring. The preliminary ceremony, which was always short, took even less time with one less pair of wrestlers. Before I knew it, Tyler and I were the only ones in the ring. The match was on. I glanced at Angela who was taking everything in anxiously. She nodded her support and I nodded back. Then I tried to push her out of my mind. This was the critical moment. I needed to give my whole concentration to what I was doing and not think about what would happen if I won or lost. Just focus on winning, I thought. First there was the stare off. Tyler smiled at me a little, trying to throw me off, and I smiled back. I wasn't going to let him psych me out like that. "You like to smile?" he said. "I'll make sure you're smiling with my dick in your face." "Just keep talking trash," I told him. "That's all you have." He charged and I met him halfway. The crowd roared as we crashed into one another and fell to the mat. Neither one of us had a good hold on the other, though, and we stumbled back to our feet. But seeing that Tyler was getting up just a little slower than I was, I decided to take the advantage. I leapt at him, hitting him sideways and knocking him back down to the mat, me on top. The move worked perfectly, just as I had hoped it would, letting me put my forearm over his chest and press all of my weight onto it. From there, I could grab his wrist and twist it to the floor and, from there, I was just a quick move away from a full pin. But Tyler was just a little too slippery with sweat for my forearm to hold him down and, with a bit a strength and a lot of determination, he was able to wiggle free from it, sending me onto the mat with a light thud, face down. And that was all that Tyler needed. All of a sudden, I went from being on top, winning the match, to being on the bottom, losing it disastrously. Just like that. Less than two minutes into the match. I didn't even have time to realize it was coming. Tyler swarmed on top of me, pushing my stomach against the floor to keep me down as he slid his arms to my shoulders to prevent my upper body from twisting out. I squirmed desperately, uselessly. "That's right," I heard him say above me. "I'm not letting you go." And with that I felt his hands grab my wrists, first the left, then the right, and with one motion he pinned them both to the mat. "Gotcha," he said and I could already feel his hard-on growing up the bottom of my back. The crowd was on its feet. I had only a second to fully realize that I had lost when I felt the first changes hitting me. If I didn't know what was going on, I would have thought I was turning into jello. My body seemed to become less solidified, more malleable, almost like soft clay. I could feel it shrink and stretch in all the places I had seen others shrink and stretch. My chest got heavier and heavier, my frame shortened, my hair grew, and my hips widened. EVERYTHING was changing. Everything was becoming feminine. My genitals felt numb for a moment and then seemed to disappear altogether. Unfortunately, that's just about what was happening. I couldn't see, but even if had I been able to, I probably still wouldn't have bothered to look. I lay there panting for perhaps thirty or forty seconds before I realized that it was over. I had lost. I was now a woman. Tyler's woman. I felt the soon-to-be-familiar tug on the back of my long, blonde hair, lifting my new face (still unknown to me) to the crowd. The place went wild. Suddenly I was being turned around. It was the strangest feeling. A few minutes before we had been nearly the same weight and strength. Now Tyler could manhandle me as though I was a small child. He turned me on my back and hovered over me. My God, I thought. There was so much to take in all at once. He was so absolutely huge. He could almost have had been a body builder. And I felt so small, so tiny. But now I could see my tits and they were just... colossal. I went to feel them with the tips of my fingers, finding my way to the nipples. Instantly, a surge of pleasure shot through me. At the same time, Tyler's enormous hands begin to rub my hips and ass, feeling me out, possessing me. It all felt so wonderful I nearly forget where I was or what was happening. Nearly. "Beg for it," Tyler ordered, grabbing his huge cock and massaging it against the lips of my new pussy. An electric shock burst through me, stunning me almost to paralysis with the pleasure it gave me. Without even realizing I was about to do it, I let out a lustful moan. I had never felt so turned on in my entire life. Nothing else seemed to matter. I had just lost my job, my wife, my house, my whole identity, and I didn't care. Tyler was going to take care of everything now. All I had to do was make him happy. "Beg for it," he repeated. No! This couldn't be happening. Something inside me tried to fight it; tried to make me stop. But, oh God, it felt so good to be a girl. And his cock. His cock looked so powerful. It just seemed like everything I had ever wanted, every desire that I had ever had, all rolled up into ten inches of throbbing, hardened flesh. "Fuck me, Tyler," I said, hearing my new voice for the first time. It surprised me even after everything else that had happened. It was high and girly and, of course, sounded like a complete bimbo. "Give me that big hard cock! I need it, Tyler! I NEED it!" "Good girl," Tyler said smiling. Then, in one triumphant lunge, he slid himself into me, sending wave after wave of the most intense sexual bliss I had ever experienced. My whole body pulsated to the rhythm of his movement, exploding with pleasure each time he penetrated me, anticipating that pleasure when he pulled back. It was heaven and all its glory. And yet, despite its intensity, the battle inside me raged on. Though part of me enjoyed every moment of ecstasy, gratified with being Tyler's willing whore, another part of me watched in horror. What was I doing? I was going to be the sex slave to this man forever! Tyler Reeve, no less. The man I loathed. "You've got such great muscles," I cooed at him. What made it so bad was that I really meant it. Everything about him seemed to be hard and beautiful. Even the smell of his sweat, sweet with musk, made me horny. Tyler grinned maniacally, then began pumping into me faster. "Yes!" I squealed, grabbing my tits, and enjoying the pounding. "Fuck me hard!" "You nasty little bitch," he laughed, ramming me so hard that I began to inch backwards on the mat. I threw my arms out spread-eagle to stabilize myself. For the first time, I could hear the grunts and the groans of the mass orgy around us. Like always, it was at full scale. Every person in the audience was a participant. That's when I remembered Angela. I had forgotten about her. For the moment, however, I couldn't see her. I was facing the wrong direction. But, then again, I didn't need to see her to know where she was or what she was doing. Like any good slave, she was tongue-deep in her mistress' pussy by now, probably being told how much of stupid dyke she was or how nice her ass will serve for her new master. Tyler was thinking along the same lines. He said: "I can't imagine Angela being any better of a fuck than this, but we'll see." I felt a twinge of jealousy at the mention of fucking Angela. But it was jealousy of Angela, not Tyler. The feeling quickly passed though as I was overcome by lust. Just enjoy this moment with him, I thought. Who cares about the future? Tyler began to pump even harder now and I knew that he was near orgasm. I bucked my hips up as fast as I could to encourage it, hoping to everything good and glorious in the world that I would cum too. I was on the verge. I could feel it. "You can be my special little cocksucker," he said, again moving the speed of our fucking up a notch. "I'll call you Jenny and you can be my secretary. You can take my calls and make all of our clients happy. I'll even let you sit on my lap and sometimes, if you're a good girl, I'll fuck you up the ass. You'll love it." Everything that he said was appalling. I would be his mindless fucktoy, a plaything at his disposal. And yet, at the same time, the thought really turned me. I found myself wanting to be his plaything; I wanted to let him humiliate me. I started to think of myself as "Jenny", slavegirl to my master's beautiful cock, dancing for him, fucking him, servicing him and his friends in whatever way that I could. I could let him have it all, I thought. And further, I wanted to give it to him. I tried to tell him to stop. I tried to tell him I wouldn't do as he said. But all that came out were passionate grunts. "Cum, Jenny," he told me. "Cum for me now." That was all that it took. At his command, I was cumming. My first female orgasm. "Ohh!" I squeaked, high and slutty, as I looked up dreamily into Tyler's contorting face. He was beginning to climax too. His breathing quickened and his whole body began to stiffen and flex. "Ahhhhhhg!" he grunted. Soon I felt spurts of hot jizz blast my insides, consummating the act and quenching the sexual frenzy within me. I had never felt such gratification. I had never felt such inner peace. I went to kiss him, but, seeing my intention, he slapped me. The slap wasn't hard; just enough for show. It said, "don't do that again." "I only kiss my wife," he told me sternly. "Not some cheap whore who sucks dick for a living." "But I thought I was going to be your special girl," I said, my eyes watering. I could hear the pouting in my voice, but I couldn't stop myself. "And you will be," Tyler reassured me, standing up. "Now clean this cock so I can fuck your wife during the next show." Tears streaming down my pretty face, I dutifully rose to my knees and began to lick the sex juices off my master's thick, gorgeous meat. His hard-on, I couldn't help but notice, hadn't diminished in the least. The crowd laughed in approval, loudly chanting out Tyler's name. "Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!" they yelled as my master's hand found the back of my head and gently pushed my tiny mouth over the helmet of his enormous cock. I gagged, feeling a strange mixture of guilt, spite, and raging lust. +++ I got used to the new me remarkably quick. Of course, I never got used to it completely. There was always something else to learn, something else to live through. The hardest thing to deal with was my unsatisfied lust. We were perpetually horny. It just never stopped. And it wasn't because Master Tyler couldn't satisfy us. He did all the time; it didn't matter. And even then sometimes, to make things worse, either for punishment or just for fun, he wouldn't let us orgasm, driving us even more crazy. And it wouldn't matter how horny you would get, Master Tyler's word was law. If he said you couldn't cum, you simply would be unable to cum. But of course we had more than just Master Tyler to fuck. Mistress Nadia made Angela fuck just about any man who happened to recognize her from her television news days. And that happened just about every time she went out in public. Mostly, they seemed to be fat, middle-aged men, bald on top and hairy everywhere else. Angela despised them. They absolutely disgusted her. And yet, at Mistress Nadia's mere word, Angela would turn into an uncontrollable nymphomaniac around them. She would do anything they wanted to do, letting them fuck her in any hole they chose. And they chose them all. "Angela Conners," Mistress Nadia would say. "News anchor and insatiable slut. I like it." In fact, Mistress Nadia was so pleased with the idea, that she began to make movies of the encounters. Not just home video stuff either, but relatively high quality films. If Angela had ever hoped of somehow keeping her reputation in town, that hope left her as soon as the local adult video stores received the first compilation of her new job as an "actress." As for her old job at the station, Mistress Nadia had Angela come in for one last day of work. By the time she left that day, every orifice on her was sore, even her mouth. She had fucked the producer, the cameramen, and her co-anchor, Thurston Williams. Thurston, who had always had had grudge against Angela since she had turned down his advances a year before, actually fucked her three times, each time in the ass. How do I know all of this? When Angela got home that evening, Mistress Nadia had her give everyone the details, Thurston Williams' cum dripping out of her behind and onto the side of her legs the whole time. Angela was definitely Mistress Nadia's "favorite" slave, just as I was definitely Master Tyler's favorite. This was probably because of who I had been before, but I couldn't help but fantasize that it may have had something to do with my skills and how well I pleased my master. He had chosen me to be his secretary and he loved showing me off at work, both to clients and fellow employees. I was his trophy, the remaining shell of his greatest enemy. But he was my master, a god. More than a god, even. He was everything. He took over the Jacobson account that I had been handling and now instead of me golfing with the elder Jacobson, Gerald, and Bambi entertaining the junior Jacobson, Matthew, Master Tyler would golf and I would entertain. I got to go the Jacobson estate and get treated like royalty. And even better, when Matthew had to leave or take a call, I would have the opportunity to fuck his pool boy or his bodyguard or, for that matter, whoever happened to be around. Everyone had their roles in the Reeve house. Tyler and Nadia, of course, looked over everything. But even under their strict rule there was a rank system of sorts. Kitty and Amy, being owned by the Reeves the longest, had seniority over us all, at least in some sense. Then came Bambi and Sara since they had been enslaved just as long as Kitty and Amy. Finally, down at the bottom of the totem pole, came Angela and I. Low even among the low. And, boy, did we know it. Kitty, for his part, remembered all too clearly how I had fucked him in the ass the first time Master Tyler had let me at him and, obviously, Bambi and Sara were very eager to get some vengeance for the horrible things Angela and I did to them. Still, the dynamics of the household made our relationships with each other a little different from a straight pecking order. Usually, we divided into two groups, ex-wives on one side and ex-husbands on the other. This, I think, had to do more with personality conflicts than anything else. The ex- wives retained all of their intelligence and most of their individual characteristics. Amy was still a bit timid at times, Sara was still fairly sharp, and Angela was as conniving as ever. The major difference (and it was a big difference) was that they were now completely under the control of Tyler and Nadia. In contrast, their ex-husbands were all dumb as posts. In a lot of ways, it didn't feel like I was any less intelligent. In fact, my thoughts often seemed very clear and lucid. There was always a part of me that understood and hated what I was doing, but it was like a voice shouting into an empty room. No one was listening. At the same time, there was another part of me, "Jenny", who seemed to always be the one in control. When I woke up in the morning, it was Jenny who got me out of bed. When I walked, it was Jenny who moved my legs. When I opened my mouth, it was Jenny who spoke. And she really had anything impressive to say. "I just SO love it in my ass," I told Kitty and Bambi one Saturday as we made breakfast in the kitchen. We stood around one of the stoves, cooking up eggs and talking. In the corner, stood Angela. It was her turn to watch over us and make sure we didn't do anything stupid like set the place on fire or, even more likely, stand around and complain how little cock we got. "You really do, girl," Bambi said. "I love it too. It feels SO good. But I think I like watching you get butt-fucked even more. It's like so incredible!" "Yeah!" Kitty agreed, his face lighting up. "You get this face and you are like all 'aaaah' and 'oooh' and you lick your lips and stuff. You are such a superslut. I mean, I like it up the ass too, but you just get so into it. It's like your favorite and stuff." "Remember when you were a man and you used to fuck me up the ass all the time?" Bambi asked. "I used to be your total slut, but then you lost to Mr. Reeve and now you're a slut too. And like totally more than I am even." "Oh yeah. Definitely," Kitty chimed in. "You fucked me in the ass once and I loved it. But now you're the most sluttiest of us all. By far." I blushed with embarrassment. Well, Jenny blushed with embarrassment. The other side of me, the old me, raged with humiliation. Kitty and Bambi loved to bring up the fact that I used to be the man fucking them and now I was just another bimbo slut like them. They pointed it out whenever they could (which was quite often), but I took this as a sign that the Kyle and Ryan were, like me, still somewhere trapped in their new bodies. They felt ashamed of what they had become. By making fun of me, they were able to take some minute, transitory semblance of control. I got a bit annoyed every time they did it, but what made me even angrier was that being humiliated like that actually turned me on. The more degraded I was, the hornier I got. But I struck back whenever I could. "You guys WAY love it in the ass more than I do," I said. "Remember how you begged for it, Kitty? You wanted it so bad you were like sweating. And Bambi, I used to catch you stuffing dildos way up your butt all the time. You still do. I saw you doing it last week. So don't tell me I like it more 'cause you guys are way worse." "It's still your favorite and stuff," Kitty said cattily. "It is NOT my favorite," I said. "Sucking cock is my favorite." "Mmmm," they said in unison. Just thinking about it made us all horny. "Gawd, I could really use some cock right now," Bambi moaned to herself, running one hand through her hair and closing her eyes. "Yeah, me too," Kitty and I said at the same time, making us look at each other and giggle. Our whole fight was forgotten with the mention of cock. "Get back to work you stupid bimbos," Angela said from the corner of the kitchen. We all gave her a nasty look. "Shut up, Angela," I said. "You may be smarter than us and stuff, but we've all got way bigger tits than you." "Yeah," Bambi said. "Shut up. You're just jealous 'cause we get more cock than you 'cause we're like way prettier." "Just get back to work," Angela said, her arms crossed. "Can't you talk and work at the same time?" The thought hadn't occurred to me. I looked down at the stove, trying to remember where I had stopped. There were three pans, two of which was overcooking some eggs, and one of which had a half a dozen strips of cold bacon laying in it. I hadn't turned it on. "Oh my gawd!" I said, shaking my tiny fists in the air. "This is SO frustrating!" "If this doesn't get done soon, I'm giving you all spankings," Angela threatened. She could too. Master Tyler thoroughly enjoyed having our ex-wives give us spankings. He said it put us in our place. "Why are we even doing this?" Bambi complained, turning to Angela. "You always just do it for us in the end anyway. Why don't you just do it now?" "Fine!" Angela said, completely at the end of her rope. She marched to the stove and started preparing breakfast, which was probably already late. "Next time, though, Sara is going to be the one supervising. I'm not doing this every time." Pleased at the situation, the three of us immediately went back to talking. "You look SO hot in that dress, Jenny," Kitty said, referring to the small red leather mini-skirt Master Tyler had just bought me. "It, like, totally shows off your ass." "Definitely," Bambi told me. "Mr. Reeve will be all over that. Can I borrow it?" "Thanks," I said, proud of myself. "Of course you can borrow it any time. You would look superhot in it, too." "God, you fucking bitches are worthless!" Angela yelled at us, shooing us away further away from the stove. "Mr. Reeve doesn't think we're worthless," I said, defiantly. "In fact, he likes me best." "Does not," Kitty countered. "I was his first. I'm his favorite." "No, I'm the best," Bambi said. "He told me last night." "Liar," Kitty spat. His eyes were red with anger at Bambi. "I've been his fuckslave longest and I know. He likes me the best." But I knew the truth. "Everyone knows that I am so his favorite and I'll prove it," I said pulling down my skirt and nylons. True to his word, Master Tyler had made me both his secretary and his "special little cocksucker." In fact, that's exactly what he had tattooed on my ass: "Tyler's Special Little Cocksucker". I revealed it to everyone, using a quick series of poses to show it off, even though they had all seen it countless times before. I was so proud. None of the other slaves had gotten such a tattoo. "I'm his special girl." "It says 'special cocksucker'," Angela corrected, looking away from the eggs and bacon to reenter the conversation. "Not 'special girl'." "I suck cock better than anyone else here," I boasted. "Yes, you do," Angela said, laughing at little and making me frown. I didn't like it when she talked to me like that and she knew it. She knew the old me was still inside listening. "And, oh my, how you love to suck cock. Don't you?" "Yes," I said quietly. "You're right," she said. Angela, of course, never forgave me for losing my match with Master Tyler and giving us both up to slavery. "You're not worthless. You USED to be my worthless husband but now you make a pretty good piece of ass for Mr. Reeve. Now there's a real man. He always satisfies me, whenever or wherever he fucks me. Can you say that you ever did that, Jenny?" I said nothing. "Tell me, Jenny," she continued. "Tell me and the girls how many times you satisfied me before you joined Mason and Mason. Tell me or I'll spank you right now in front of them." Kitty and Bambi giggled. They loved to see me put down like this. "Tell me," she said, grabbing my hair and pulling me to a wooden chair by the wall. Besides my breasts, Angela was now bigger than I was. And stronger. She dropped down in the chair and yanked me over her lap. "Come, Jenny, tell me," she said again, pulling down my skirt, which was already halfway from my tattoo demonstration. "Tell me or I'll spank your little ass red! How many times did you ever satisfy me in our two years of marriage?" I said nothing. The Jenny inside me wanted me to just say it, to just blurt out that I had never been able to satisfy my wife sexually. Jenny didn't really care. But I did. And for once it seemed I might be able to fight her back. I clinched my mouth shut and I just started crying. I had suffered every other humiliation. I wasn't going to suffer this one. SLAP! I felt (and heard) sting of her hand hitting my backside. "How many?" she asked again. SLAP! It hurt so bad. Jenny couldn't handle the pain. She was starting to fight me harder. Kitty and Bambi were now laughing hard, huddled together and enjoying my complete mortification. In the background, I heard more noises. Other people were coming in: Master Tyler and the other two ex-wives. "How many times did you satisfy me before you came to Mason and Mason, Jenny? How many times did you ever make me cum?" SLAP! "Never!" I cried out. There was suddenly a great deal of laughter. The kitchen seemed to be filled with people. "What was that?" Angela asked. "I never did," I confessed. "I never made you cum." "I would have thought he'd at least did a few times," I heard Master Tyler say, sparking even more laughter. "My God, not even once? You poor girl, Angela." "I'm sorry you had to see this, Mr. Reeve," Angela apologized, not sorry in the least, of course. "But he was a horrible husband with a horrible little cock that he never knew how to use. Nothing like you, Mr. Reeve. You wouldn't even know." "It certainly looks like he deserved it," Master Tyler said, smiling condescendingly at the entire scene. "And for being such a good girl and disciplining him like that, I'll even give you a good fucking." "Thank you, Mr. Reeve," Angela smiled at him, her face lighting up. She pushed me off her lap onto the floor and stood beside her master. Master Tyler pulled up the chair next to us, unzipped his pants, and sat down, his enormous erection standing straight up. Angela, like the rest of us, could only stare in desire at it. I literally drooled at the prospect of putting my mouth on it. "Do you want me to suck it?" she asked. "No, you deserve a real fucking," he said. "From a real man," Angela continued as if in a trance, still staring at the glorious meat of her master like it was a brick of gold she had just discovered. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked, amused at Angela's open gawking. Angela did not need another hint. She tore her clothes off as if they were on fire, actually ripping her panties as she took them off when she had gotten that far. Less than thirty seconds after she had seen him sit down, Angela was on Master Tyler's lap, straddling him. Master Tyler didn't have to do any work at all. Angela found his cock beneath her and directed it toward her soaking pussy. She had a difficult time cramming the huge dick into her tight crotch, but eventually managed. "Oh fuck!" she yelled, throwing her head back in ecstasy and closing her eyes to the ceiling as his throbbing member snaked its way inside her. "God, that feels so good!" "Better than Brandon ever gave you?" Master Tyler asked, looking directly at me. "Brandon was a useless thumb-dick," she moaned, her head still back in bliss. She talked as though she were hypnotized. "He had the penis of a little boy. Before he beat Bambi, it wasn't even five inches long." "And now he doesn't even have that, does he?" Master Tyler said, still looking at me. "No," Angela grunted, grinning in satisfaction, either because of Master Tyler's pole that she was sitting up and down on or at the thought of me losing my manhood. Perhaps at both. "Now he's just your half-witted whore. At least he serves a purpose, even if he's too stupid to realize it." "Oh, I would say he understands it VERY well," Master Tyler said, winking at me. Everyone snickered. I remained as I was, kneeling just a few feet away, my nylons and skirt at my ankles. Angela, meanwhile, began to quicken up the pace, almost hopping on the shaft inside of her. "Christ that feels good!" she panted, her hair flapping out with the movement like the wings of a bird. "Jenny," Master Tyler said. My eyes perked up. "Yes?" "You may lick my balls while I fuck your wife," he said. "Thank you," I said, immediately crawling up to his lap and ducking my head under Angela's bouncing ass. I found his sack and quickly began licking. Seconds later, I felt his hand pat me on the head. I was doing well. "Nice job, Jenny," he said. More laughter came, this time even from Angela, but I didn't care. I was finally pleasing my master. Master Tyler then grabbed both sides of Angela's ass and, to her delight, made her go even faster. Meanwhile, I licked and licked, fervently trying to keep my master happy and two minutes later, I was rewarded. Master Tyler's cock began to twitch and his muscles tightened. The moment of climax had arrived. "Cum for me Angela," Master Tyler commanded and, right one cue, Angela's body began to convulse in lustful spasms. "Oh God Mr. Reeve!" she cried out. "Oh God!" I licked even more feverishly than before, soon feeling the familiar jolt of Master Tyler's balls that signaled he was cumming. Seconds later, jizz began dribbling out of Angela's pussy and onto the base of Master Tyler's cock where I greedily lapped every drop into my mouth. It tasted just like sweet candy. "Mmmmm, mmmm" I said. "That was real good," Master Tyler said. "You are quite a fuck, Angela." "Thank you," she said quietly. "Who wants to lick my cum from Angela's pussy?" Master Tyler asked. Everyone volunteered, including me. Whoever got to do it would get Master Tyler's permission to climax for sure, that is, unless Master Tyler wanted to be cruel which was, of course, entirely possible. After listening to all of us plead for a few seconds, Master Tyler finally picked Sara. "Not you, Jenny," Master Tyler said. "I've got something else for you. Tonight's poker night and you've got to be ready." +++ I loved pleasing Master Tyler and I loved fucking. Poker night allowed me to do both abundantly. Every month, a group of Level 7s would get together to play a night of cards. The host of the party would supply his slaves for that evening's entertainment, entertainment which consisted of both serving the players drinks as well servicing their prodigious libidos, usually underneath the tables or on nearby couches. It was a bit like a wine tasting convention. Everyone got to sample what everyone else had. I had gone to every poker night. Guests didn't usually bring their own slaves, but there was no rule against it. Besides, I was quite popular with the guys and, inevitably, my help was always needed. The boys always became too horny for the girls to keep up with. But even though I always went to poker night, I was never able to be the "star of the show." To wrap up every poker party, one girl, named "the star," was chosen at the end of the night to be gang-fucked by all the partygoers. It was a long standing tradition, one everyone loved. It almost hit the frenzy of wrestling match at the Getaway, it was so powerful. For it wasn't just for the sheer pleasure a gangbanging a slave that got the men aroused, though that was part of it. What they really enjoyed was humiliating one of their old colleagues, re-enforcing the lines of power and reassuring themselves of their own social standing. In other words, it was an ego boost. And I was only too happy to give them that boost; to be at the center of all that power, all those men and all those tremendous cocks. It was a role I had yearned forever since I had witnessed it at the first poker party Master Tyler attended. I had been an honorary "fluffer," giving blowjobs to those men waiting in the wings while the lucky girl of the evening tried to keep up with the guys she already had, usually three or four of them at a time. I had been very close to the action, seeing every mouthwatering cock, hearing every moan. I fantasized about it ever since. And now my time had come. It was Master Tyler's turn to throw the party and he had promised me that I would be given the final act. I would be the girl with all the cock she could ask for. I would be the star, center stage. "My special cocksucker," Master Tyler said, making me blush. I was so proud to be able to please him like that. But first we had to get ready. We cleaned all day, sweeping the floors, polishing the furniture, and scrubbing the tiles. As Master Tyler's secretary, I was usually able to avoid all of the drudge work of being a maid, but today I didn't mind at all. Today was going to be special. Even while cleaning the kitchen sinks, I was giddy from anticipation. The other girls were excited too. Kitty and Bambi, who had never been to a poker party before, had a million questions about what it would be like and what we were supposed to do. Even the ex-wives, who usually only spoke to us with tones of contempt, were curious enough to ask me about a few things (though still with an air of superiority). We all wanted to do our best for Tyler and Nadia and, of course, we all couldn't wait to get laid. Then at about six o'clock, an hour before everyone was to arrive, Tyler and Nadia had us move some chairs and two tables into the main living area to accommodate the poker games. When we were done with that, they told us to go to our rooms and "get pretty." We were only too happy to oblige. Though there more than enough rooms for each slave, Mistress Nadia had decided to put us three to a room, the ex-wives in one and the ex-husbands in the other. Angela and the other ex-wives resented this a little, I think, but I loved it. The next best thing to getting cock was talking about getting cock and, on that subject, Kitty, Bambi and I could talk for hours. And sometimes, when we got really worked up, we might start fondling one another, staying up to all hours of the night exploring each other's luscious bodies. Of course, we still couldn't cum without Master Tyler's permission, but that didn't stop us. It just felt so good! Now, though, we knew very well that we would cum tonight and probably several times. In fact, as the star of the show, I expected to climax more times than ever. "You are like SO lucky!" Bambi told me when we were in our room putting makeup on in the mirror. "How many dicks do you think you can take at once?" "Well, let's see," I said, pointing my eyes up at the ceiling to concentrate and trying to count. "One in my pussy, one in my ass. Uh, one in my mouth. If I'm lying down I should be able to jerk two off at once. How many is that?" "Six," Kitty said. "Wow!" I exclaimed. "That's a lot." "Can I be a fluffer?" Bambi asked. "Sure," I said. "It is SO much fun. You will just die. You too, Kitty." "I can't wait," Kitty giggled, pushing up her breasts in sexual tension. Just then the door opened. It was Sara dressed in that evening's attire: a yellow string-bikini with matching yellow heels. "Aren't you ready yet?" she asked us angrily. "You've been up here for an hour and you haven't even got dressed yet." "It won't take long to put on a bikini," Kitty told her. "Yeah," Bambi said. "Chill out." "Don't talk back to me, you stupid slut," Sara told Bambi, giving her ex-husband a quick, violent swat on his bare ass and sending him into a sniffling fit. "And don't cry. You'll ruin your makeup and be in here for another hour. Just hurry up. The guests are starting to arrive." And with that, she left, slamming the door behind her. We continued as normal. "Which color should I use?" I asked, holding up two lipsticks. After careful consideration of all my options (about twenty minutes), I had finally narrowed it down to two. "The dark crimson is like kinda elegant and, you know, this is a poker party and stuff, so that seems right. But the hot pink is just so slutty, almost trailer trashy. Which is better for tonight?" "Which would go better with the bikinis?" Kitty asked. "The hot pink," Bambi suggested, still a vestige of sniffling in his voice. "Besides, it would totally match your nails." "Totally," Kitty agreed. "Hot pink, then," I said, putting it on. We hurried and fifteen minutes later we were ready. Before going though, I took one last look in the mirror before going back downstairs to join the party. There I was, one of the most gorgeous women I had ever in my life seen. Blonde, blue-eyed, well-stacked. The bikini showed off my entire body, every curve and bend and nearly every square inch of my perfectly tan skin. My ass was my favorite feature and I took a moment to admire it, sticking it toward the mirror. I was a goddess. And yet I couldn't even tie a shoe anymore, I thought. Thank God I only wore high heels. I was a goddess, but I was a semi-illiterate, sex-starved, possessed goddess. I ran my hand along the "Tyler's Little Cocksucker" tattoo, studying it very closely. Was this it? Was this going to be the rest of my life? Would the high point of my entire existence be the night I was gangfucked by a dozen or so men? "Let's go," I heard Bambi say. "Come on, Jenny," Kitty called from the door. "Mr. Reeve is probably already mad at us." Hesitating for only one more moment, I followed them. +++ Master Tyler wasn't mad at us. By the time we got downstairs, the music was playing and most of the guests had arrived, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. Sara was getting everyone drinks and Amy was already under one of the tables sucking off the guests. Another girl, the slave of one of the guests I presumed, was busying herself under the other table. On the other side of the huge room, sitting on couches and talking with Mistress Nadia, were the wives of the guests. I saw Angela serving them, giving them drinks from a large tray she balanced with one hand. When she was done, Mistress Nadia said something to her and pointed to one of the wives whom I recognized. It was Karen Moore, the new anchorwoman that had replaced Angela at the station. Mistress Nadia had made sure we knew she was coming tonight. Her husband, Jon, had just been promoted to Level 7 the month before and this was her first poker party. Karen gave an evil-looking smile and pulled up her skirt on the leather couch, revealing her pantiless crotch. Angela, once the proudest woman I knew, immediately put her tray down on the floor, dropped to all fours, and crawled to Karen's waiting lap, her small, pert ass lifted unconcernedly to the air with only the yellow string-bikini to protect it. Mistress Nadia slapped it playfully, giving everyone a laugh. Soon they went back to talking as if nothing extraordinary was happening. Even Karen joined the conversation. Only her hand at the back of Angela's head, rhythmically pulling it in and letting it back out, showed that she was aware of the slave's presence at all. Meanwhile, I noticed that Angela had reached a hand around her ass to finger herself through the bikini. Kitty joined his ex-wife, Amy, under the table and Bambi went to see what help he could be to Mistress Nadia. Not knowing where I should start myself, I went to Master Tyler, who was sitting at one of the tables playing a hand. "Well, Kitty and Amy seem to be a pretty good job under the table here," he said. "Why don't you help Sara with the drinks. Start with Ted here. See what he wants." I turned to Ted McCormic, my onetime friend and colleague, who sat in the next chair. I had only seen him a few times since I had lost to Tyler, but he looked good. His two victories at the Getaway had served him well. He was muscular, tall, and very handsome. The lecherous grin on his face only turned me on more. "Hello, Mr. McCormic. What can I get for you?" I asked him in the most formal tone I could muster, though I still sounded like a silly airhead. "You are looking fine, uh, Jenny," he said grabbing my bikini bottom with his finger and pulling me down to his lap. I could feel his enormous bulge in his pants grooving right into my ass. "Oh!" I said excitedly, melting as he began to feel out my breasts. "And these are very nice," he said. "You must work very well for Tyler. How are you in the sack?" "Excellent," Master Tyler said before I could formulate any sort of answer. "Best cocksucker in the county." "Really?" Ted said, turning back to me. "I might have to try that." "Go right ahead," Master Tyler told him. "I don't mind." I looked at Ted eagerly, just waiting for the word. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and fix me a gin and tonic," Ted said. "Then come back here, plant those fat, beautiful knockers on my thighs, and show me how good you are with that mouth." "Yes sir," I giggled. "Right away!" And, with an extra spring in my step, I pranced away to my task. I found Sara in the kitchen, setting drinks on a tray. "How do you make a gin and tonic?" I asked her. "You're not serious, are you?" she asked. "That's got to be the dumbest question I've ever heard to ask. And you've had some doozies." "Just kidding," I said, trying to save face. "Yeah, sure," Sara said, picking up her tray to leave the kitchen. "Here's an idea though, just in case you weren't kidding. Why don't you trying pouring some gin into a glass and then pouring tonic water over it. They're both over there on the counter." "Thanks Sara," I said gratefully. "Anytime." A minute later I came back to the poker game, bringing Ted his drink. He sat it down next to his cards for a moment, unzipped his pants, letting his hard, wonderful tool spring out with a jerk. "There you go baby," he said. "Let's see what you can do." In an instant, I dropped to my knees and began slobbering on his massive cock, licking up and down the shaft like a madman to lubricate it before gorging my small mouth with it. Ted gave a quiet grunt of satisfaction, then returned to the card game. "I'll bet twenty," I heard him say as I bobbed up and down on his spit-glistening meat. Then he said: "He's really something, Tyler. What do you want for him?" "Jenny is not for sale," Master Tyler said. "Didn't you read the tattoo. He's all mine." "Not even a trade? I'll give you the pick of any one of my slaves." "That's tempting," Master Tyler laughed. "But no deal. I like having Jenny around too much." "I can see why," Ted said, gently grabbing the top of my hair into his fist while I continued to suck on his cock. I heard him take a sip of his drink. He said: "He can't make a gin and tonic worth shit, but he sure knows how give good head. My goodness, that feels nice." It took me less than five minutes to suck off Ted. At the end, he even abandoned the poker game, setting down his cards and pulling his chair back from the table to give me more room to work with. "Ah, that's good, bitch," he said. "That so good." I felt his thigh muscles tighten and his hips shake. He was almost ready to blow, I thought. I myself was so worked up that I thought I might orgasm before he did, but, of course, that was impossible. Only if I was told that I could cum, either by Master Tyler or Ted or whoever I was with, would I be able to. I didn't even break stride when Ted's sperm began to spray against the back of my throat. I just kept on sucking. It came too fast for me to swallow it all and a lot of it ended up dribbling out of my mouth and down his shaft. But I was still able to lick up most of it from there. "That's right," Ted said. "Clean it all up." "Yummmm," I hummed, looking up at him, my chin dripping with goo. "Your cum tastes way good. Thank you." It did taste good too. Better than any food I had ever tasted. "You're very welcome, Jenny," Ted said, nudging me out of his way with his knee so he could zip up his pants. He returned to his card game. "But..." I started, then, realizing that I was going to complain, stopped. Neither he nor Master Tyler had given me the word to climax. Ted looked back down at my hopeful, jizz-splattered face and read my thoughts. "I'm sorry," he said. "Tyler gave me strict orders not to let to cum yet." I looked over at Master Tyler pleadingly, but I didn't dare say a word. "I want you ready for your final performance, tonight," he explained, not even looking away from the cards in his hands. "I want you to be absolutely begging for it." +++ For the next few hours, the girls and I kept our guests, both the gentlemen and the ladies busy, sucking cocks, eating pussies, and performing in whatever fashion they asked us. One of the wives told me to dance for her with a big purple dildo in my ass, which, though not especially comfortable, I was perfectly happy to do. One of the male guests, Frank, liked it when slaves acted like dogs. After he had had a few too many drinks, he had Kitty and Angela crawling around, sniffing each other. He even gave them dog collars, black leather things with silver metal studs. That made everyone laugh, even me. And, to everyone's further amusement, when he started fucking Angela from behind (doggie style, of course), he didn't allow her to use her human voice. She could only bark out "Arf! Arf!" whenever she wanted to scream out in pleasure. The place sounded like a kennel. Everyone was having a great time. Master Tyler still had not let me cum. Every host, guest, and slave must have climaxed at least two or three times, but I was never allowed. I was still having plenty of sex, of course, but that only seemed to increase my sexual cravings, never satisfy them. By the end of the night, I was practically insane with desire. I couldn't think of anything else. My only respite was fucking. It seemed to hold over my urges temporarily, but only at the cost of increasing those urges once I was done. When I was done fucking one person, I would move as fast as I could to the next, nearly bursting with lust as I did. I could hardly contain myself. If I didn't find satisfaction soon, I was going to explode! But then, at last, the moment came. My moment. Eventually the poker and the sex games began to wind down and I became increasingly aware that my sexual relief was close at hand. It was almost time for me to be "the star." At about ten o'clock, Master Tyler gathered everyone over to a large, California King mattress on the floor. The mattress and a smaller one next to it had been used all night and had blotches of sex fluids all over them. But I didn't care. When Master Tyler told me to lie down, I practically leapt onto the mattress. I was finally going to cum, I thought, rubbing my pussy with expectation. I couldn't help myself. "And now for what we've all been waiting for," Master Tyler said. "Yes," I gasped and everyone snickered. I blushed. "Some of us, obviously, have been waiting more than others," Master Tyler continued, making everyone laugh harder. Then he said: "If the gentlemen would form two lines, one on each side of the bed, then I think we can start." Fourteen men formed two sides of seven, surrounding me. By this point in the evening, they had removed all their clothes and each of their massive, beautiful cocks stuck out over me as if in salute. And they had such big muscles, I thought. I licked my lips and moaned, but didn't dare try to touch them yet. I had to wait for Master Tyler's word. "As most of you already know, this has been sort of the tradition of poker night," Master Tyler went on. "We pick a 'special girl' and give him the works. It's often the event that is most fun and, as a consequence, it is just as often the most popular. It has certainly always been my favorite. It's a time of reconciling, a time when we all get to show an ex-peer just how important he is to us." More laughter. I didn't get the joke, but I laughed along anyway as though I did. I wasn't paying much attention anyway. All I could do was stare longingly at the men above me. One the men, Alex, winked at me, making my giggle. "We all know what to do, of course. But tonight I'd like to do something a bit different. Tonight, I like to add just a little twist." Then Tyler turned toward me. "Get on all fours and face everyone," he ordered. I dutifully did as I was told, disappointed that I couldn't stare up at the handsome men anymore, but glad that it appeared things were about to kick off. My cravings had become almost painful. I needed release. I faced the on- looking crowd, which was all women: fifteen wives and six slaves. I smiled at them. Then Tyler came onto the mattress, his great big erection bouncing in along with the gate of his walk. He patted me on the head as he went by, running his hand down my neck and bringing it down to my hips. When he got behind me, he sank to his knees, grabbed me by the ass, and rubbed his wonderful cock against me. My throbbing pussy was so ready, it nearly reached out and ate it up all by itself. "Oh God," I cried out. "Please fuck me, Master Tyler." I caught a dirty look from Angela. She knelt in front of Mistress Nadia who sat on a couch behind her. She still had the dog collar on and its leash, I noticed, ran all the way back to her mistress. Angela's eyes were filled with contempt, as if she couldn't believe that I had sunk so low. But I knew she was just jealous. Everyone looked on as Master Tyler slowly inserted himself into me, making me groan with excitement. He went very leisurely, taking his time. Then, grabbing my hair and pulling it back, he casually leaned over and looked me in the face. The action required him to stop fucking me, just when he had started, and it drove me crazy. "Oh, gawd, what's a matter?!" I asked desperately, trying to buck my hips and create some friction around his member. But he stopped me, putting his finger to my lips as if to quiet me. I lay there on all fours, panting and quivering, not knowing what to do. Finally, after a few seconds that seemed an eternity, he said: "How's it going, Brandon? You still in there?" He looked at my eyes as though they were TV screens filled with static, searching for just the faintest hint that something else was in them. Indeed, that's exactly what it felt like from the other side, like my head was full of noise, drowning out everything rational in my brain. "Hello?" he continued. "Brandon? Nod if Brandon, the man, can hear me." Something in me stirred and I found that the old me was trying to fight again, trying to take back control. The fog in my mind had lifted ever so slightly and, for the moment at least, I felt like I could see clearly. I nodded, though only a little. He was still holding onto my hair tightly. "Good," Tyler said, obviously pleased. "I'm glad you haven't gone from this world completely. I hope you never do. Say something to me Brandon." Somehow, by using my name, he seemed to wake me out of a trance. For months, I had been fighting Jenny and losing. Everyday, I had lost just a little bit more of myself. Everyday I had become just a little bit more like Jenny. But now I was back, if only for a few seconds at a time. Not complete control, but enough to let me think lucidly. "Hello Tyler," I said. I still had the voice of a bimbo, of course, but I managed to squeeze out a hint contempt in my tone. A small dose of the old me. Tyler didn't miss it. "Very good," he laughed. "You really ARE still in there." He paused, giving me time to look around and absorb the situation. There I was. My life, for all intents and purposes, was completely over. He had taken my wife, my job, and my whole identity, and all I could think about was how I was going to let him, the one man in the world I hated most, finish fucking me. "I'm going to do something that rarely, if ever, is done, Brandon," he said. "I'm going to give you a choice." My body trembled, yearning for satisfaction. Couldn't this wait? It asked. And yet another part of me was intrigued. The old part of me. Brandon. "What kind of choice?" I asked cautiously. "A merciful choice," Tyler said and, without warning, let go of my hair, grabbed my ass, and started fucking me again. His pace, as before, was very slow. I drew an audible breath of surprise in, stunned by the returning sensation of pleasure as Tyler lazily rocked in and out me. I closed my eyes to savor it, clenching one of my breasts in desire, losing my balance for a moment, and making me return to all fours. "You can do one of two things, Brandon," he said, increasing the pace of his pumping. "I can keep doing this and give you the most powerful climax of your life..." "Yes!" I cried out. "Don't stop! Faster!" "Or," he continued, slapping me on the ass and slightly increasing his pace. "You can ask me to stop and I'll let you go. You'll be totally free. You'll never have to come back" I could hardly speak. So much was happening all at once. Was he serious? Was he really just going to let me go? But Jesus, his cock felt so good. I couldn't concentrate. "I can't turn you back to a man, of course, or even give you your job back," he further explained. "But I can free you from being my slave. You could start your life over as a woman and, who knows, maybe it would be better." I looked at my ex-wife again, still kneeling in front of the couch, but now watching with intense interest. "And Angela?" I asked, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the explosions of pleasure emanating from the cock in my pussy. "She can go to," he said. I couldn't see him grinning, but I could hear it in his voice. The whole place, I realized, had turned silent. All talking had finished. This was definitely a part of the show they hadn't been expecting. "St-" I said, meaning to tell me to stop, but then melted as Tyler began to play with my nipples. "Oh Jesus," I panted lustfully. It was obvious that Tyler didn't think I could say no. "You can still be my special little