PalimpsestChapter 8 Delectable Detective
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I left her collar on the front door knob, and Claire knew to put it on, open the door, get on her hands and knees, and crawl in. After a glance over each shoulder confirmed that no neighbors were watching, she did as was expected, unaware of the filthy treat that awaited her.
I stood and watched from the living room as she took the time to close the door behind her. She was in her work clothes: a khaki pantsuit with a white undershirt, some elegant little brown clogs, ID badge. And don't forget the thin black leather collar with a single, heavy-duty metal ring. She pivoted from the door and I noted that the girth of her hips nearly matched width of the door frame. Her knees beat heavy thunks into the floor as she lumbered obediently to my feet. Beautiful.
“Can I just go pee first please?” she asked, her eyes on the floor.
Anger reared inside of me. This was just like her, of course, but it was unlike me to be so short-fused. Three weeks of secret planning and meticulous detail and vetting had been dedicated to this night, and she couldn't shut the fuck up and trust that I knew that she has to piss when she gets home from work. I reached down and grabbed a handful off dyed-red hair and pulled, hard, until her eyes faced mine. They boiled with pain and surprise, then simmered into a sulking resentment. I was already pissed off and she was being defiant. Not a great start.
“Would you shut the fuck up and obey the rules?” I snapped. “You just won yourself the leather lash for the whole night.”
We had established that the braided leather lash hurt much more than the second-rate half-plastic one.
She stared petulantly up at me with beautiful green eyes that showed her thirty-eight years. I thought to slap her to further my point but decided to preserve her stamina for the long night ahead. I commanded her to stand, clipped a leash onto her collar, and led her into the house.
I started by gagging and cuffing her and giving her an enema. This was a new experience for both of us, but it was not to be the focus of the evening, just preparation. I was pleased to see that she was waxed and so smooth, as she usually was, and she obeyed well and seemed to enjoy being pumped full of liquid, grunting through her leather ball gag as she was. Some things were still taboo between us, though, and I respectfully left the bathroom as she relieved herself. We repeated the enema process a few times, cleaning between each, and even if the rest of the evening had been a total disaster, I still would have valued the simple bonding opportunity that this new experience had provided us. It was one more way for her to be vulnerable and for me to show her that it was okay. One more barrier lifted.
After drying up, I released her wrist cuffs and ordered her and to put on some jeans and a sweater and some makeup. This was also quite unusual for our play time, and her eyes spoke volumes of the curiosity she was feeling. When her face was done I took the makeup kit and did her up a little more. Too much eye shadow, some extra black eye liner. I purposefully smudged and smeared. Perfect.
“That won't last long,” I said, and Claire's eyes widened slightly, echoing a shrill excitement I also felt but did not show. In fact my heart pounded. New experiences do always seem all the more intense when I have to maintain the guise of authority at every turn. I handed her pink scarf to her. “I'm going to take the gag off now, and we're going to the car. I'll have the lash. If you say a word, believe me I won't hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right there in the street with the neighbors watching. You're going to get in the back seat and lay down, and then I'm going to cuff and gag and blindfold you again. We going for a ride.”
Although there was no shortage of deserted homes and businesses in post-Katrina New Orleans, I felt it safe to use one on my block. I circled around a few times just to confuse Claire, driving a total of about 10 minutes before I turned into the back alley of a ruined business only three lots from mine. It was sheltered on three sides by other unoccupied buildings and another by a quiet street, and I had managed to find a room within that was away from any outside windows or doors. I had spent the last two days preparing the space while Claire had been at work.
It was a simple, barren room that I'd cleared of junk except for surfaces which might be useful. Two walls were skeletal; the building had most likely been in the process of renovation before the storm. Though it was slightly dusty and crude, the place seemed to have been spared most of the worst kinds of blight that a flood will cause. I still took the measure of mopping with bleach and cleaning as thoroughly as I could.
I led her there now, blindfolded, and had her strip nude before leading her to a stack of pallets in the corner, which I had her bend over onto while on her knees. The cuffs that I secured her hands and feet with were new; she hadn't seen them before. They completely encompassed her digits in leather, and I had modified their appearance some in order to help complete the scene. Claire breathed heavily in response. Her back rose and fell in a long, broad rhythm. Her apprehension felt tangible and tasted sweet.
It was certainly going to be shocking, and I hoped that I wasn't pushing things too far. Our sex life had been fantastic for three years, but nothing we'd done quite approached the level of perverted premeditation and kink that was in store tonight. I forced myself to stay in character and shoved aside the inkling of doubt. Our previous play sessions had always turned out so much better when I hadn't doubted myself, hadn't they? She absolutely loved it rough and always seemed to be incredibly aroused when I had let my temper flare while having my way with her. Tonight would only expound on that idea.
The flesh-colored corkscrew butt plug was such a great prop. This I had modified as well, because I had tried it on myself and found that it could slip out quite easily. I decided to cut the corkscrew end off and glue it onto a wider, more firmly adherent plug. Claire grunted and squealed as I lubed her ass with oil and began to press the big plug in. Both hands were needed to spread her mammoth cheeks and the oil made the going slippery, but her tight, barely used asshole finally accepted the plug. She grunted and squirmed and fought her bondage, but for naught. I wiped off the excess oil and noted the slimy moisture between her puffy outer lips.
“You want my cock now, baby?”
She released a breathy, affirmative moan through her nose. I stood in front of her and removed the blindfold. Her eyes were already wild with questions and a horde of emotions as she examined me, looked around and over her shoulders, and found herself in completely alien surroundings.
“Not yet.”
She began to wiggle and thrash when I showed the electric hair clippers to her and flicked it on, and her eyes screamed Don't you dare! I grabbed a handful of wavy strands and was interrupted by her thrashing.
I know what you may be thinking. Off limits. I would completely agree and would not dream of cutting a woman's hair against her will even in the interest of fun or kink. But Claire had spoken of shaving it all off on several occasions, and not jokingly. She'd done it in the past; she was a punk like that. She also owned four gorgeous wigs (which we had quite a bit of fun with from time to time) that she wore on regular occasions at work and at home. Her hair had begun to thin a few years back, which was a huge source of self-consciousness for her and the wigs had proven to be fun and empowering. I celebrated the fact that she wore them, but I also loved her thin hair in the same way that I loved the way her eyes and lips and hands showed faint traces of age.
I calmly put down the clippers and displayed the lash to Claire. Her look remained challenging, and she even turned her head from side to side, signaling no. I rapped her three times, hard, across the back. Her exclamations trailed off into a pathetic whimper. I switched tools again, and she did not protest this time. She appeared quite beaten as she cried a tiny black eyeliner tear from the corner of each eye.
I didn't shave it to the skin, but left it just a few millimeters long -- enough to feel that fresh picky hair feeling that I find so incredibly sexy on my hands, cock, and nipples. I left one long puff of hair right at the widow's peak and snipped that down to just a few inches. She seemed doleful and incredulous as I carefully dyed her last lock jet black.
I then fed her three cups of fresh, cool water.
After brandishing the leather lash and holding my finger to my lips, I blindfolded her, removed the gag, and put a couple of surprise props into place. Ears, snout, apple, bell. After securing her to the sex swing which I had hung in the center of the room, I left the room to make a couple of calls.
We were not true, open swingers, but we had enjoyed a few threesomes with other men. Claire absolutely loved them.
She began to struggle and huff a little when she heard two extra pair of footsteps walk into the room with me.
The vetting process for these guys I had been painstakingly serious about, and I had allowed myself to sort of play a certain character that was not exactly me when I dealt with them. Suffice to say that I had covered all the bases, even going to far as to inform them that, though I trusted them, if they should think about trying anything out of line, their names and addresses were displayed prominently on the desktop of my computer back home. I had of course concealed the location of that home from them.
I felt it all rather unnecessary, though, as they seemed to be genuinely good guys. I had made it a point to find men experienced and comfortable with group sex...more so than Claire and I were, in fact. We'd swabbed all our mouths with HIV tests (don't ask how I got them) upon first meeting two weeks ago, and we did so again in an adjacent room before walking in on Claire. All negative, and Claire couldn't have babies. All set. Safety first, right?
One man was named Royal, and was bearishly built and a bit gruff, but otherwise very genuine and likeable and handsome, though not the smartest of creatures by my better judgment.
The other just told me to call him Bull. I understood the need for discretion, but this seemed a little extreme to me until I saw the only thing that he had carried to our party. I must admit that I was a little intimidated by his six-two physique. Idiosyncrasies aside, he seemed a jovial and reasonable guy.
They were both dressed sharply, as I had asked them to be.
I concealed my digital video camera in the corner of the room and covered the red light with some electrical tape so as to hide it from Claire. I wanted her reaction caught naturally; I suspected that the memory was something that we'd cherish for a while to come.
The three of us stood between hanging Claire and the large mirror that I had set up against the wall she faced. It was angled so that she could see herself in it.
“Wow, quite the sight,” Royal remarked as his pocketed hands absently fingered his manhood.
Claire sat suspended in all her fat glory. Her full, round belly hung between massive thighs-- big around as my waist-- that strained the leather straps of the swing. Her tits spilled down to her sides, where they formed round, soft-looking mounds. She had a total of s*******n tattoos on her body. Not the new, colorful, artsy hipster stuff, mind you. Old school, faded, rough, like a Harley gal, though she was not. She had a long, thick band of sharp tribal designs circling the inside of one thunderous thigh and a circular row of stars that stretched as the extreme contour of her belly had. Her arms were held up by her restraints, and vertically along the back of each each of her bulbous upper arms were the words LOST and SOUL.
“Now, you are not Claire anymore. You will not speak, because pigs don't speak,” I announced as I approached her.
I removed her blindfold, and she saw herself for the first time. She had become another person-- no, not a person at all. A pig. She wore a pink snout and pink pig ears behind her only remaining spot of hair, and her hands and feet were cuffed with leather mittens that had two-toed, hoofed ends. From her ass still protruded the corkscrew tail, the tip of which was now slowly oozing her pussy's juices onto a small puddle on the floor below. A ridiculous farmer's bell hung from her collar and rested between her massive tits. The finishing touch had been the ripe red apple which now gagged her. She drooled, struggling to clutch it in her teeth, no doubt fearful of retribution should she drop it. Spittle flowed down her pudgy double chin.
Her face became a violent red, even through the makeup, and her eyes darted wildly, searching for identity, location, anything. Her breathing became panting. She began to shudder and struggle, but not for escape. Her entire pelvis heaved and wrenched and her ass worked the plug in and out of itself as it expanded and contracted. Her pussy clinched in on itself, cumming violently, releasing a new strand of wetness down her tail and onto the floor. She shuddered and exhaled as her eyes settled onto mine, but I had put a mask on. It was a simple one that just covered my eyes. I, too, was someone else now.
I handed a black marker to each of my cohorts and set the example for them. I stood at Claire's side and wrote the words “FAT PIG” in big letters across the top roll of her stomach, upside-down so that she could easily read and understand them. The others did their worst as well, penning humiliating words onto her. Fat slut, cum hole, gang pig, filthy swine, cock sow. I was impressed by their creativity, actually.
I began to disrobe and my fellows followed suit. “You're our pig now, and you will act like one. You are not to use any words, because pigs don't talk. You talk and you get the lash. You will only grunt and squeal and snort now like the fucking pig you are, and until I tell you otherwise.” I removed the apple from her mouth and a strand of saliva followed it. “Understand?”
She seemed about to speak but caught herself, and snorted and bit her lip. She seemed unable to look at herself in the mirror or the men around her without grinding her pelvis back and forth in yearning.
I stood back then, and enjoyed the show for a minute, and took careful measure of the other men, who didn't seem at all to seek my approval in any way. I had made it clear to them that there were basically no limits this evening besides an extreme few.
Royal did not undress immediately, and he had donned his leather cap, which looked like an executioner's. He unzipped his slacks and began jerking himself as his thick fingers gingerly felt the pig's massive contours and dimples. He pinched and groped shamelessly and grew hard.
Bull acted entirely differently and was, to be honestly, a little scary. But that suited the mood of the evening, didn't it? As he got naked, I couldn't help but admire his cut swimmer's body. The guy was shaped like a model, but he was not a tanning booth pansy by any stretch. The solid hips, rough hands and worker's tan lines implied hard time in the sun, lifting and bending. His uncut cock was huge, even semi-erect, and had a pleasant sideways curve. He wordlessly and methodically undressed, and it wasn't until later that I saw the two massive horns tattooed onto his back.
His headgear was a hockey mask which had been painted skillfully with the frightening face of an angry bull. Only his eyes could be seen deep beneath the heavy black brow of the raging b**st that blew steam from the mask's nose holes. He was quite the glorious sight, and Claire's eyes remained on him and his growing cock even as Royal fingered her slowly. I was excited for her.
There had been plenty of planning and direction between myself and Royal and Bull. I had asked them to start as slowly as they possibly could, despite their excitement. They did so, and our experience was all the better for it. Royal seemed in wonder, gently caressing, roughly grabbing, and greedily fondling every inch of the pig as I pulled her head down from behind, savoring the feel of her prickly chubby neck. I mashed her cheeks together until her mouth opened, then put my dick in, all the way. Bull watched and jerked off, slowly, his cock so very impressive. He caught me looking, met my eyes, approached our pig and slowly, surely, firmly slid his entire manhood inside of her without once looking away from me. He was silent and deliberate, but he threw his head back briefly in pleasure as he felt such a wet, ready pussy on his cock. The pig let loose a cry of ecstasy that rejected my tool from her throat, and I replaced it promptly and watched as Bull fuck my pig.
We had had our way for a half hour, still taking it slowly as we could, when the pig began to squeal and whimper miserably.
“You may speak long enough to answer this question, pig. Is something wrong?”
“I just need to pee,” she answered sheepishly. Or piggishly.
“Well,” I said, and motioned for Bull and Royal to step back as I stepped away and adjusted the swing from which the sow hung. I let only her upper half down gently to the floor, and soon her her ass and pussy were still high in the air, fully exposed, and her tits hung down to either side of her face. “Piss.”
She furrowed her brow at me.
“No? Maybe this will help.” I stood near her head and let loose a stream of piss directly onto her belly. The force of the stream created ripples in her flash. The piss dripped and pooled and threatened to soak her face, but instead dripped harmlessly off her sides and pooled below her. Bull and Royal stood side by side between her legs and pissed directly on her pussy and asshole. That, too, dripped down her back and pooled below her until she was laying in a puddle.
She erupted, spraying a stream down onto her own belly, and she thrust her pelvis upward, further angling the warm gush down toward her face. She opened her mouth and gargled her own piss, staring at me as she did so. Wet makeup bled and too much eye liner streaked stark black tears across her face.
“That's a good fuck pig.”
But I was not at all satisfied with that. After so much preparation, so much wild fantasizing about this moment, I was not at all disappointed, but I definitely wanted more. I wanted wild abandon. I wanted no more Claire. I wanted an a****l, a completely bestial, instinctual, reactive creature. I didn't want a challenging look and a calculating glance, and I still got those, unfortunately. I felt I needed to relax, and maybe let her relax a little. I asked Royal out for a smoke.
We did so in the adjoining room and I left Bull with the a****l. Royal and I exchanged comments about Claire, and Royal seemed genuinely envious of the kind of woman that she was.
“Yeah, she's a real classy kind of gal,” I chuckled, and we shared a good laugh.
We returned to find Bull squatting on the sow's face. Her pig snout was against his perinium and her tongue buried deep in his ass as he slowly stroked himself, his head thrown back. Royal and I stopped and watched before joining in. Bull raised himself a little, gave a long, low moan, and released a torrent of cum into the pig's face. She gasped and snorted frantically and attempted to catch every last drop.
We had our way roughly, from then on. The snout was discarded, as was butt plug tail, and she gave us her ass freely, though I had only fucked her there once before, months ago.
A moment I'll never forget happened when I had my cock in her ass, Royal had his in her mouth, and Bull had his darting between two rolls of slippery belly fat. I looked at her then and beamed with pride; there was my prize, a ravenously desirous woman, the want of any sensual man. And she was coming home with me tonight. I exploded the best orgasm of my life into her ass and nearly passed out.
It was a little later when I finally saw the observant defiance fade from the pig's eyes. I held her face and pressed my cock into her mouth, all the way down the shaft, fully, and held it there, choking her, and looked deep into the green eyes, past the smeared makeup and filth and cum. She pulled herself from me, not to breathe or to resist, but to move from my cock to the next. Royal and I came in her face simultaneously, and as she pleaded and snorted and searched hungrily for more, I saw no hint of thought or calculation in her eyes. Just grunting and absurd snorting and sqealing. Nothing human there. She had become the a****l.
We rotated breaks, but there was never a break for her, and for quite a while, Royal and I sat and watched as Bull had his way with her. He was an incredible and intriguing figure to watch; Bull's fitness contrasted starkly with pig's fatness and provided him with a physical stamina that allowed him to never stop. He seemed to be able to cum and just keep going and going, and we once saw him cum and fill her asshole with creamy white, and then switch to her pussy and fill that too.
We fucked, fingered, spit on, gagged, slapped, grabbed, twisted, spanked, abused, came on, pissed on, and humiliated the pig until the early morning hours.
We finally called it quits at 2 a.m. and allowed Claire to be Claire, and we showered her with cheers and hugs and attended to anything she might need. Turns out she didn't need much. We parted ways with our friends, returned home and shared a chuckle that we had been so close to home all along, and after a shower Claire fell fast and deeply asleep.
She thanked me in the morning, profusely, and took the time to let me know that she appreciated the courage that it took to do this for her. She was understandably full of questions and seemed even happier about her treat when she appreciated all of the precautions I had taken, and then got very curious about doing something similar for me.
I curled her short lock of pitch black hair around my finger and smiled at her and chuckled, “Just don't touch the hair, okay”?
She pounded my arm so violently that the bruise showed for weeks.
End ; )
I stood and watched from the living room as she took the time to close the door behind her. She was in her work clothes: a khaki pantsuit with a white undershirt, some elegant little brown clogs, ID badge. And don't forget the thin black leather collar with a single, heavy-duty metal ring. She pivoted from the door and I noted that the girth of her hips nearly matched width of the door frame. Her knees beat heavy thunks into the floor as she lumbered obediently to my feet. Beautiful.
“Can I just go pee first please?” she asked, her eyes on the floor.
Anger reared inside of me. This was just like her, of course, but it was unlike me to be so short-fused. Three weeks of secret planning and meticulous detail and vetting had been dedicated to this night, and she couldn't shut the fuck up and trust that I knew that she has to piss when she gets home from work. I reached down and grabbed a handful off dyed-red hair and pulled, hard, until her eyes faced mine. They boiled with pain and surprise, then simmered into a sulking resentment. I was already pissed off and she was being defiant. Not a great start.
“Would you shut the fuck up and obey the rules?” I snapped. “You just won yourself the leather lash for the whole night.”
We had established that the braided leather lash hurt much more than the second-rate half-plastic one.
She stared petulantly up at me with beautiful green eyes that showed her thirty-eight years. I thought to slap her to further my point but decided to preserve her stamina for the long night ahead. I commanded her to stand, clipped a leash onto her collar, and led her into the house.
I started by gagging and cuffing her and giving her an enema. This was a new experience for both of us, but it was not to be the focus of the evening, just preparation. I was pleased to see that she was waxed and so smooth, as she usually was, and she obeyed well and seemed to enjoy being pumped full of liquid, grunting through her leather ball gag as she was. Some things were still taboo between us, though, and I respectfully left the bathroom as she relieved herself. We repeated the enema process a few times, cleaning between each, and even if the rest of the evening had been a total disaster, I still would have valued the simple bonding opportunity that this new experience had provided us. It was one more way for her to be vulnerable and for me to show her that it was okay. One more barrier lifted.
After drying up, I released her wrist cuffs and ordered her and to put on some jeans and a sweater and some makeup. This was also quite unusual for our play time, and her eyes spoke volumes of the curiosity she was feeling. When her face was done I took the makeup kit and did her up a little more. Too much eye shadow, some extra black eye liner. I purposefully smudged and smeared. Perfect.
“That won't last long,” I said, and Claire's eyes widened slightly, echoing a shrill excitement I also felt but did not show. In fact my heart pounded. New experiences do always seem all the more intense when I have to maintain the guise of authority at every turn. I handed her pink scarf to her. “I'm going to take the gag off now, and we're going to the car. I'll have the lash. If you say a word, believe me I won't hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right there in the street with the neighbors watching. You're going to get in the back seat and lay down, and then I'm going to cuff and gag and blindfold you again. We going for a ride.”
Although there was no shortage of deserted homes and businesses in post-Katrina New Orleans, I felt it safe to use one on my block. I circled around a few times just to confuse Claire, driving a total of about 10 minutes before I turned into the back alley of a ruined business only three lots from mine. It was sheltered on three sides by other unoccupied buildings and another by a quiet street, and I had managed to find a room within that was away from any outside windows or doors. I had spent the last two days preparing the space while Claire had been at work.
It was a simple, barren room that I'd cleared of junk except for surfaces which might be useful. Two walls were skeletal; the building had most likely been in the process of renovation before the storm. Though it was slightly dusty and crude, the place seemed to have been spared most of the worst kinds of blight that a flood will cause. I still took the measure of mopping with bleach and cleaning as thoroughly as I could.
I led her there now, blindfolded, and had her strip nude before leading her to a stack of pallets in the corner, which I had her bend over onto while on her knees. The cuffs that I secured her hands and feet with were new; she hadn't seen them before. They completely encompassed her digits in leather, and I had modified their appearance some in order to help complete the scene. Claire breathed heavily in response. Her back rose and fell in a long, broad rhythm. Her apprehension felt tangible and tasted sweet.
It was certainly going to be shocking, and I hoped that I wasn't pushing things too far. Our sex life had been fantastic for three years, but nothing we'd done quite approached the level of perverted premeditation and kink that was in store tonight. I forced myself to stay in character and shoved aside the inkling of doubt. Our previous play sessions had always turned out so much better when I hadn't doubted myself, hadn't they? She absolutely loved it rough and always seemed to be incredibly aroused when I had let my temper flare while having my way with her. Tonight would only expound on that idea.
The flesh-colored corkscrew butt plug was such a great prop. This I had modified as well, because I had tried it on myself and found that it could slip out quite easily. I decided to cut the corkscrew end off and glue it onto a wider, more firmly adherent plug. Claire grunted and squealed as I lubed her ass with oil and began to press the big plug in. Both hands were needed to spread her mammoth cheeks and the oil made the going slippery, but her tight, barely used asshole finally accepted the plug. She grunted and squirmed and fought her bondage, but for naught. I wiped off the excess oil and noted the slimy moisture between her puffy outer lips.
“You want my cock now, baby?”
She released a breathy, affirmative moan through her nose. I stood in front of her and removed the blindfold. Her eyes were already wild with questions and a horde of emotions as she examined me, looked around and over her shoulders, and found herself in completely alien surroundings.
“Not yet.”
She began to wiggle and thrash when I showed the electric hair clippers to her and flicked it on, and her eyes screamed Don't you dare! I grabbed a handful of wavy strands and was interrupted by her thrashing.
I know what you may be thinking. Off limits. I would completely agree and would not dream of cutting a woman's hair against her will even in the interest of fun or kink. But Claire had spoken of shaving it all off on several occasions, and not jokingly. She'd done it in the past; she was a punk like that. She also owned four gorgeous wigs (which we had quite a bit of fun with from time to time) that she wore on regular occasions at work and at home. Her hair had begun to thin a few years back, which was a huge source of self-consciousness for her and the wigs had proven to be fun and empowering. I celebrated the fact that she wore them, but I also loved her thin hair in the same way that I loved the way her eyes and lips and hands showed faint traces of age.
I calmly put down the clippers and displayed the lash to Claire. Her look remained challenging, and she even turned her head from side to side, signaling no. I rapped her three times, hard, across the back. Her exclamations trailed off into a pathetic whimper. I switched tools again, and she did not protest this time. She appeared quite beaten as she cried a tiny black eyeliner tear from the corner of each eye.
I didn't shave it to the skin, but left it just a few millimeters long -- enough to feel that fresh picky hair feeling that I find so incredibly sexy on my hands, cock, and nipples. I left one long puff of hair right at the widow's peak and snipped that down to just a few inches. She seemed doleful and incredulous as I carefully dyed her last lock jet black.
I then fed her three cups of fresh, cool water.
After brandishing the leather lash and holding my finger to my lips, I blindfolded her, removed the gag, and put a couple of surprise props into place. Ears, snout, apple, bell. After securing her to the sex swing which I had hung in the center of the room, I left the room to make a couple of calls.
We were not true, open swingers, but we had enjoyed a few threesomes with other men. Claire absolutely loved them.
She began to struggle and huff a little when she heard two extra pair of footsteps walk into the room with me.
The vetting process for these guys I had been painstakingly serious about, and I had allowed myself to sort of play a certain character that was not exactly me when I dealt with them. Suffice to say that I had covered all the bases, even going to far as to inform them that, though I trusted them, if they should think about trying anything out of line, their names and addresses were displayed prominently on the desktop of my computer back home. I had of course concealed the location of that home from them.
I felt it all rather unnecessary, though, as they seemed to be genuinely good guys. I had made it a point to find men experienced and comfortable with group sex...more so than Claire and I were, in fact. We'd swabbed all our mouths with HIV tests (don't ask how I got them) upon first meeting two weeks ago, and we did so again in an adjacent room before walking in on Claire. All negative, and Claire couldn't have babies. All set. Safety first, right?
One man was named Royal, and was bearishly built and a bit gruff, but otherwise very genuine and likeable and handsome, though not the smartest of creatures by my better judgment.
The other just told me to call him Bull. I understood the need for discretion, but this seemed a little extreme to me until I saw the only thing that he had carried to our party. I must admit that I was a little intimidated by his six-two physique. Idiosyncrasies aside, he seemed a jovial and reasonable guy.
They were both dressed sharply, as I had asked them to be.
I concealed my digital video camera in the corner of the room and covered the red light with some electrical tape so as to hide it from Claire. I wanted her reaction caught naturally; I suspected that the memory was something that we'd cherish for a while to come.
The three of us stood between hanging Claire and the large mirror that I had set up against the wall she faced. It was angled so that she could see herself in it.
“Wow, quite the sight,” Royal remarked as his pocketed hands absently fingered his manhood.
Claire sat suspended in all her fat glory. Her full, round belly hung between massive thighs-- big around as my waist-- that strained the leather straps of the swing. Her tits spilled down to her sides, where they formed round, soft-looking mounds. She had a total of s*******n tattoos on her body. Not the new, colorful, artsy hipster stuff, mind you. Old school, faded, rough, like a Harley gal, though she was not. She had a long, thick band of sharp tribal designs circling the inside of one thunderous thigh and a circular row of stars that stretched as the extreme contour of her belly had. Her arms were held up by her restraints, and vertically along the back of each each of her bulbous upper arms were the words LOST and SOUL.
“Now, you are not Claire anymore. You will not speak, because pigs don't speak,” I announced as I approached her.
I removed her blindfold, and she saw herself for the first time. She had become another person-- no, not a person at all. A pig. She wore a pink snout and pink pig ears behind her only remaining spot of hair, and her hands and feet were cuffed with leather mittens that had two-toed, hoofed ends. From her ass still protruded the corkscrew tail, the tip of which was now slowly oozing her pussy's juices onto a small puddle on the floor below. A ridiculous farmer's bell hung from her collar and rested between her massive tits. The finishing touch had been the ripe red apple which now gagged her. She drooled, struggling to clutch it in her teeth, no doubt fearful of retribution should she drop it. Spittle flowed down her pudgy double chin.
Her face became a violent red, even through the makeup, and her eyes darted wildly, searching for identity, location, anything. Her breathing became panting. She began to shudder and struggle, but not for escape. Her entire pelvis heaved and wrenched and her ass worked the plug in and out of itself as it expanded and contracted. Her pussy clinched in on itself, cumming violently, releasing a new strand of wetness down her tail and onto the floor. She shuddered and exhaled as her eyes settled onto mine, but I had put a mask on. It was a simple one that just covered my eyes. I, too, was someone else now.
I handed a black marker to each of my cohorts and set the example for them. I stood at Claire's side and wrote the words “FAT PIG” in big letters across the top roll of her stomach, upside-down so that she could easily read and understand them. The others did their worst as well, penning humiliating words onto her. Fat slut, cum hole, gang pig, filthy swine, cock sow. I was impressed by their creativity, actually.
I began to disrobe and my fellows followed suit. “You're our pig now, and you will act like one. You are not to use any words, because pigs don't talk. You talk and you get the lash. You will only grunt and squeal and snort now like the fucking pig you are, and until I tell you otherwise.” I removed the apple from her mouth and a strand of saliva followed it. “Understand?”
She seemed about to speak but caught herself, and snorted and bit her lip. She seemed unable to look at herself in the mirror or the men around her without grinding her pelvis back and forth in yearning.
I stood back then, and enjoyed the show for a minute, and took careful measure of the other men, who didn't seem at all to seek my approval in any way. I had made it clear to them that there were basically no limits this evening besides an extreme few.
Royal did not undress immediately, and he had donned his leather cap, which looked like an executioner's. He unzipped his slacks and began jerking himself as his thick fingers gingerly felt the pig's massive contours and dimples. He pinched and groped shamelessly and grew hard.
Bull acted entirely differently and was, to be honestly, a little scary. But that suited the mood of the evening, didn't it? As he got naked, I couldn't help but admire his cut swimmer's body. The guy was shaped like a model, but he was not a tanning booth pansy by any stretch. The solid hips, rough hands and worker's tan lines implied hard time in the sun, lifting and bending. His uncut cock was huge, even semi-erect, and had a pleasant sideways curve. He wordlessly and methodically undressed, and it wasn't until later that I saw the two massive horns tattooed onto his back.
His headgear was a hockey mask which had been painted skillfully with the frightening face of an angry bull. Only his eyes could be seen deep beneath the heavy black brow of the raging b**st that blew steam from the mask's nose holes. He was quite the glorious sight, and Claire's eyes remained on him and his growing cock even as Royal fingered her slowly. I was excited for her.
There had been plenty of planning and direction between myself and Royal and Bull. I had asked them to start as slowly as they possibly could, despite their excitement. They did so, and our experience was all the better for it. Royal seemed in wonder, gently caressing, roughly grabbing, and greedily fondling every inch of the pig as I pulled her head down from behind, savoring the feel of her prickly chubby neck. I mashed her cheeks together until her mouth opened, then put my dick in, all the way. Bull watched and jerked off, slowly, his cock so very impressive. He caught me looking, met my eyes, approached our pig and slowly, surely, firmly slid his entire manhood inside of her without once looking away from me. He was silent and deliberate, but he threw his head back briefly in pleasure as he felt such a wet, ready pussy on his cock. The pig let loose a cry of ecstasy that rejected my tool from her throat, and I replaced it promptly and watched as Bull fuck my pig.
We had had our way for a half hour, still taking it slowly as we could, when the pig began to squeal and whimper miserably.
“You may speak long enough to answer this question, pig. Is something wrong?”
“I just need to pee,” she answered sheepishly. Or piggishly.
“Well,” I said, and motioned for Bull and Royal to step back as I stepped away and adjusted the swing from which the sow hung. I let only her upper half down gently to the floor, and soon her her ass and pussy were still high in the air, fully exposed, and her tits hung down to either side of her face. “Piss.”
She furrowed her brow at me.
“No? Maybe this will help.” I stood near her head and let loose a stream of piss directly onto her belly. The force of the stream created ripples in her flash. The piss dripped and pooled and threatened to soak her face, but instead dripped harmlessly off her sides and pooled below her. Bull and Royal stood side by side between her legs and pissed directly on her pussy and asshole. That, too, dripped down her back and pooled below her until she was laying in a puddle.
She erupted, spraying a stream down onto her own belly, and she thrust her pelvis upward, further angling the warm gush down toward her face. She opened her mouth and gargled her own piss, staring at me as she did so. Wet makeup bled and too much eye liner streaked stark black tears across her face.
“That's a good fuck pig.”
But I was not at all satisfied with that. After so much preparation, so much wild fantasizing about this moment, I was not at all disappointed, but I definitely wanted more. I wanted wild abandon. I wanted no more Claire. I wanted an a****l, a completely bestial, instinctual, reactive creature. I didn't want a challenging look and a calculating glance, and I still got those, unfortunately. I felt I needed to relax, and maybe let her relax a little. I asked Royal out for a smoke.
We did so in the adjoining room and I left Bull with the a****l. Royal and I exchanged comments about Claire, and Royal seemed genuinely envious of the kind of woman that she was.
“Yeah, she's a real classy kind of gal,” I chuckled, and we shared a good laugh.
We returned to find Bull squatting on the sow's face. Her pig snout was against his perinium and her tongue buried deep in his ass as he slowly stroked himself, his head thrown back. Royal and I stopped and watched before joining in. Bull raised himself a little, gave a long, low moan, and released a torrent of cum into the pig's face. She gasped and snorted frantically and attempted to catch every last drop.
We had our way roughly, from then on. The snout was discarded, as was butt plug tail, and she gave us her ass freely, though I had only fucked her there once before, months ago.
A moment I'll never forget happened when I had my cock in her ass, Royal had his in her mouth, and Bull had his darting between two rolls of slippery belly fat. I looked at her then and beamed with pride; there was my prize, a ravenously desirous woman, the want of any sensual man. And she was coming home with me tonight. I exploded the best orgasm of my life into her ass and nearly passed out.
It was a little later when I finally saw the observant defiance fade from the pig's eyes. I held her face and pressed my cock into her mouth, all the way down the shaft, fully, and held it there, choking her, and looked deep into the green eyes, past the smeared makeup and filth and cum. She pulled herself from me, not to breathe or to resist, but to move from my cock to the next. Royal and I came in her face simultaneously, and as she pleaded and snorted and searched hungrily for more, I saw no hint of thought or calculation in her eyes. Just grunting and absurd snorting and sqealing. Nothing human there. She had become the a****l.
We rotated breaks, but there was never a break for her, and for quite a while, Royal and I sat and watched as Bull had his way with her. He was an incredible and intriguing figure to watch; Bull's fitness contrasted starkly with pig's fatness and provided him with a physical stamina that allowed him to never stop. He seemed to be able to cum and just keep going and going, and we once saw him cum and fill her asshole with creamy white, and then switch to her pussy and fill that too.
We fucked, fingered, spit on, gagged, slapped, grabbed, twisted, spanked, abused, came on, pissed on, and humiliated the pig until the early morning hours.
We finally called it quits at 2 a.m. and allowed Claire to be Claire, and we showered her with cheers and hugs and attended to anything she might need. Turns out she didn't need much. We parted ways with our friends, returned home and shared a chuckle that we had been so close to home all along, and after a shower Claire fell fast and deeply asleep.
She thanked me in the morning, profusely, and took the time to let me know that she appreciated the courage that it took to do this for her. She was understandably full of questions and seemed even happier about her treat when she appreciated all of the precautions I had taken, and then got very curious about doing something similar for me.
I curled her short lock of pitch black hair around my finger and smiled at her and chuckled, “Just don't touch the hair, okay”?
She pounded my arm so violently that the bruise showed for weeks.
End ; )
Stevie
- 27.03.2020
- 25
- 0
