The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kyra MacKenna exhaled as the treadmill beeped and steadily decreased its speed from eight miles an hour down to a walkable three, and wiped the sweat off her brow. She was glad she had managed to put in a short thirty minutes run before her trainee showed up. One of the upsides of being a personal trainer, aside from the fee, was unhampered access to the best gym in the University at any time of the day or night.

The downside, of course, she reflected as she felt her pulse return to normal, was that it ate into her preciously rare free time. Between her classes and her painting, she did not have much time left. Personal training helped pay the bills, as did illustrating that biology textbook currently getting written by one of her professors. Whatever time was left was devoted to Jackson, which she did not regret. Not one bit. She was starting to think of him as her boyfriend.

They had actually not talked about any of that yet—she did not want to be the one to broach the subject, and she suspected Jackson did not want to either. Still, the fact remained that they were spending a lot of time together, doing all the things that couples did, including banging each other like bunnies in heat, and he had been spending the night at her place more and more frequently these last two weeks. Kyra knew that this was more than just hooking up. She liked Jackson, and it was pretty clear to her that he liked her back. Which elated her. And had her feelings on the matter not been blatant enough, that her paintings had started to shift towards warmer colors and away from the blues and grays of much of what she have been naturally using since starting at Darnell would have been proof enough.

A young man caught her eye as he walked past the line of treadmills, giving her a smile that she returned noncommittally. He looked good in his cut-off tee shirt. He looked strong. Kyra felt a tingling in her groin and smiled to herself. Old habits die hard, she thought, wondering idly how it might feel to have such big arms hold her tight. He looked like he could crush her with a single hand. Why, he could practically order her to do anything, and she would have to do it or risk angering him. She would have no choice but obey. The tingle in her groin became a persistent throbbing, centered on her clit.

The young man kept looking in her direction as he walked past, and Kyra did not have to turn her head to know that he was running his eyes down her body, checking her out, evaluating her, assessing whether she looked good enough to fuck. Her nipples tightened in her sports bra, complaining bitterly about being trapped, wanting to be free and be sucked and be pinched.

She felt the young man’s eyes linger on her ass. Hardly surprising as it was what every male stare settled on, for as long as she could remember. Boys loved looking at her ass, which was convenient because Kyra loved when boys looked at her ass. She went out of her way to wear her pants tight to showcase what was by all accounts her best physical feature. (Well, that, and her eyes, which Jackson kept telling her were the most beautiful he had ever seen and could spend hours staring at, something that both embarrassed her and made her want to hug him so hard he would choke. But eyes did not make boys want to do filthy things to you, did they?) Even now, she was wearing a pair of black yoga pants so tight that they left very little to the imagination, while showing not an inch of skin, a combination Kyra had always found exhilarating. She resisted the temptation to shake her behind at the young man.

The throbbing in her clit had move south and turned into a deep pulsation in her pussy. God, she was turned on! Working out always made her body so sensitive. She momentarily toyed with the idea of fingering herself to orgasm in the changing room, but dismissed the idea quickly. She would just have to wait until she saw Jackson that evening. He would never know what hit him.

When the young man had walked past, she turned to look at him take the stairs leading down to the changing rooms. She did still enjoy fantasizing about strangers using her. But more and more, she was looking forward to being with Jackson. Of course, Jackson did have that maddening tendency to treat her like she was a fragile piece of porcelain, and when he fucked her he was careful, loving, attentive. She appreciated it all, of course—that was what made him boyfriend material, after all—but part of her nonetheless wished he could be more assertive. Forceful. Demanding.

Unbidden, an image of Jackson towering over her while she lay naked on a bed sprung up in her mind. He was looking at her, a serious almost dismissive expression on his face, taking in her body and evaluating her and telling her to spread her legs wide and hold them up with her hands hooked under her knees, and she was doing it, reddening under his unflinching stare, and she was feeling her pussy lips part with what she was pretty sure was a sticky wet sound. Jackson was putting a finger up her cunt, as if he was checking out a sow before a country fair. His finger was sliding in and out of her tight cunt, and she was juicing up like a madwoman. He was pulling out his finger and then without warning was slipping it into her asshole. She was spreading her legs wider while at the same time thrusting her pelvis upward to give him better access. And then, looking satisfied with—what exactly? her tightness?—he was sitting in a chair, in the corner of the room. “You’ll do,” he was saying, still dismissive, almost bored. “Let’s see how well you suck cock now. Come here.” She was practically jumping off the bed, but before she could do anything he was stopping her. “What are you doing? Get down and crawl to me, you worthless pair of tits on legs. I wanna see your nips trail on the floor until you’re at my feet.”

Fuck, I’ve got to stop, thought Kyra, stepping off the now almost stopped treadmill. She longed to squeeze her tits and slide a hand down her pants and twiddle her clit—or better, for Jackson to squeeze her tits and slide his hand down her pants to twiddle her clit. Maybe she’d even have the guts to whisper in his ear, as he finger fucked her, “I’ll do anything you want—I’m your private nasty whore.” Kyra bit her lips, ground her thighs together, and tried to hide her action by stretching. She was way too horny, that was not good at all. She still had this training appointment in a few minutes. She debated canceling, but then dismissed the idea as too unprofessional. She could just imagine it: “I’m sorry, but I have to cancel our training session because I have to go and masturbate.” She laughed out loud, then caught herself when the girl on the treadmill next to hers looked at her suspiciously. Kyra gave her a shrugging smile, then hurried down towards the lobby area. It was time to meet her two o’clock.

He was waiting for her near the personal trainer station. “Brad? Hi, I’m Kyra. I’ll be your trainer today.”

The young man smiled. He was not bad looking, and gave the impression—not contradicted by his physique—that he was not new to the gym environment. She found that somewhat surprising. Also surprising was the fact that his eyes did not automatically shoot down her body. Instead, he was looking straight into her eyes, and Kyra instinctively responded to what she saw there—lust, confidence, power. Her arousal, which had dropped down to a manageable level, rapidly rose to its previous height. Now, it was Brad that was telling her to crawl on the floor.

“Hi,” he said.

“Wait, I know you, don’t I? We’ve met before...”

Brad smiled again. “Maybe at a frat party?” He raised his hand, showed her his ring. “I’m Delta Iota Kappa.”

“Ah! Go Greeks! You must know Jackson then, he’s my—” she hesitated. “He’s my boyfriend.” There. Just trying it out for size.

Brad nodded. “I do. Good guy, Jackson. Oh, here’s my pal, Sonny. Also a brother.”

Sonny, in contrast to Brad, had all the hallmarks of the gym virgin, starting with his oddly mismatched clothes all the way to a decaying pair of running shoes, along with a general demeanor of discomfort that made him twitchy.

Kyra smiled to reassure him.“Nice to meet you Sonny. I’m Kyra.” She turned to Brad. “Huh, listen, if it’s going to be the two of you, I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge more. It’s kind of policy.”

“No problem, Kyra. Double the amount?”

“Let’s make it half-price for Sonny here. Bit of a rebate for my guy’s brothers. All right, then, are you ready? Follow me, boys, we’ll take care of the warm-ups first.”

She could feel Sonny’s eyes on her as she turned around, and she knew that they had dropped down to her ass.

“Dude—” started Sonny, but Brad told him to shut up. Kyra smiled, wondering what clumsy compliment Sonny had almost uttered. She imagined Brad telling her to shut up with that same tone of voice, telling her to shut up and suck his cock, after making her crawl with her naked ass up in the air, her cunt dripping like a leaky faucet. Unconsciously, she put some additional sway in her hips—she was aroused, and she wanted everyone else to be aroused with her. She could picture the boys’ eyes riveted on her back side, and she fantasized that they wondered about how it would feel like to slide into her from behind, like that. She herself wondered how it would feel like to do them both at the same time and she shivered despite the warmth of the gym. She had never had a threesome, but the thought of it was so wicked that she almost blushed.

Okay Kyra, she told herself, take a deep breath, this is getting ridiculous. She needed to calm down, and concentrate on the job. There would be time for fun later. In fact, when she got home tonight, she would get rid of the roomie, call Jackson, and when he showed up she would be lying down on the floor of the apartment, naked, her legs spread as far as they would go, and she would plead him like a crack whore needing a fix to do whatever he wanted to her, rape her, take her as hard as he could—none of that gentle and loving shit. She’d beg him to fuck her like a piece of meat, a set of holes for him to use, a fuck toy there for his own selfish pleasure and release. Maybe this would be the night where she asked him to tie her up and gag her. Kyra closed her eyes under the sensations that were coursing through her body. If those two boys behind her only knew just how horny she was, they would probably bust their nut right then and there.

Kyra unlocked the door to the small exercise room usually reserved for step classes and other aerobic group activities, and held it open for Brad and Sonny to go through.

The room was empty. They moved to one corner, and after grabbing a few exercise mats Kyra started on some warm-up stretches. Brad walked up close behind her. She knew he was staring straight at her ass as she bent down to stretch her back, and took a perverse pleasure letting him have a long hard look. Just as she decided that enough was enough—no point leading the poor guy on—he spoke up.

“Kyra, I am your DIK brother.”

Kyra’s mind went blank for a second. Without thinking, she turned her head and saw the frat ring that proved to her that he was indeed her DIK brother. And just like that, her cunt—her worthless cunt—was on fire. If she was aroused earlier, she was now off the charts. And she knew just what it took to appease the fire burning her up. She straightened up and stood at attention, her eyes cast downwards in the proper gesture of respect. She could feel her body vibrate, expectant, just waiting for Brad—for her Master—to tell her what to do.

Her Master wasted no time to indulge her. “Kyra, get down on your knees, lose the shirt and bra, and play with your tits. And you,” he said turning to his friend Sonny, “go lock the doors.”

Sonny nodded, and went, while Kyra, her body resonating from the pleasure induced by her Master’s voice, knelt down on the exercise mattress and in one swift motion pulled off both her tee shirt and her sports bra over her head, her tits—her slutty tits—finally free. Her nipples were already hard, screaming for attention. She provided it, palming her mounds and with nimble fingers pinching and tweaking the sensitive nubs. Each contact sent waves of lust down to her fiery cunt, which was soaking through her panties. If her Master liked titties then she’d give him the best show ever, and she squeezed and massaged her udders, which turned her on even more.

Sonny had returned. “Dude, that’s Jackson’s girl. This is not cool.”

“Shut up, Sonny. Jackson doesn’t need to know, all right?”

“Still. I mean—”

“You mean what? Yeah, so she and Jackson have been hooking up lately. Big fucking deal. Does that mean that the rest of us gotta go without now?”

“Well, it is kindda what we all agreed. He seems to have fallen pretty hard for her, and they’ve been hanging out an awful lot, even she’s not, you know, like this and stuff.”

Her Master looked at Sonny a long while without speaking. “Fuck that,” he said at last. “And you know why? Because it’s been since Christmas that we haven’t gotten a new girl, that’s why. I don’t know why our prez is holding out on us, but he is, and I’m getting tired of it. And I’m not the only one, believe me. There’s a whole bunch of us getting pretty antsy about this. And Jackson thinks he can just come along and claim this girl for his own while we’re in a drought? No way.”

“I thought they said that there was a problem, that the guy—that doctor—who takes care of the girls, he left, and that’s why we can’t get new girls...”

“Boohoo. Even if that’s true—huge fuckin’ if—you’re telling me that they can’t find anyone else to push the buttons or whatever it is they need to do? Fuck, I’d do it, if they just show me how. I bet I can figure it out too. And then I can get us some good ones too. There’s that new sociology professor I got for one of my courses, one hot fuckin’ babe with legs up to there. Wouldn’t mind to have her spread them open for me.”

“I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t. Nobody fuckin’ does. Anyways, to the matter at hand. Jackson won’t know. I’m not gonna tell, and Kyra here certainly ain’t gonna tell, and you won’t tell either, right?” Sonny hurried to nod. “I’ve been hooking up with her for weeks now, right here. And you know why I keep coming back for more? Just look at her—the cunt’s a sub! In real life. A perfect, shameless sub. I don’t know if Jackson even realizes it, but I sure the fuck do. And when a real sub’s under, well—there isn’t anything better out there.” He ran his hand down her face. “Right, cunt? You like to be told what to do?”

She flushed when her Master addressed her. A cunt—that’s what she was—a hot moist opening for big cocks to cleave. Her Master saw that in her, and he would take advantage of it, take advantage of her, and she would submit to him, because he was strong.

“Answer me, you little cunt—you like to be told what to do, don’t you? You like when I order you around?”

More heat from her groin spread through her. “Yes, sir,” she replied in a small voice, still not looking up, still caressing her slutty tits.

Her Master had a little laugh. “That’s right, you do. And you know why? Because you’re a submissive little cunt, that’s why. How about me and my pal here use you like a fuck rag doll, and when we’re done, when we’ve filled all your holes with our spunk I send you out there with only your tights on, our cum dripping from your face and your tits?”

Kyra shivered. The image was crystal-clear in her head—she, walking down the main gym, glazed with cum, her naked tits bouncing, everyone staring at her, pointing to her, laughing and jeering, calling her a whore, a slut, a cum dump, the girls sneering, the boys getting hard-ons and wanting to add their cum to that covering her body. And then she’d run into the young man from earlier, the one with the big arms, and he’d look at her like she was a filthy whore. He wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t caress her, wouldn’t kiss her—you don’t kiss cum-covered walking holes—he’d just grab her and take her, hard, over and over again, and she’d beg him to fuck her even harder, and... and... and... Her shivers increased and just like that, she came, swaying on her knees, her eyes tightly shut, feeling the waves of orgasm run through her body, but amazingly doing nothing to assuage the fire burning in her cunt. She needed her Master’s cock inside her.

“Fuck,” said Sonny. “Did she just...?”

“Yup. Told you she’s a fun one. So, you gonna stay, or you gonna go?”

Sonny was looking at her, the conflict evident in his eyes. Kyra did not move, kneading her tits and presenting them up to her Master, waiting for him to tell her what to do, the anticipation of his wishes driving her wild.

“Shit, I can’t pass this up,” said Sonny at last.

“Good man,” grinned her Master. “Okay, my little cunt—you see my friend here? I want you to go to him, and beg him to fuck your mouth, and when he does, I want you to make it good for him, the best. And when he comes in your mouth—or your face, or wherever on your slutty body he decides to—then I’ll stick my cock in you and then you’ll come, but not before.”

Kyra felt her lust for her Master, her hunger, her craving, grow tenfold, and the promise that he would fuck her obliterated everything else. She hoped he would make it demeaning, humiliating, but at that just getting fucked was enough. If the price to pay was sucking off his friend—no, she corrected herself, not sucking him off, but letting him fuck her mouth like a cunt, like a pleasure hole—there was no hesitation to be had.

“Yes, sir,” she replied softly, not looking at her Master. Here was her chance. She leaned down and went on all four, like a dog, like a bitch in heat. Then she brought her chest all the way down to the floor, her nipples brushing against the exercise mat, and that way, with her slut tits dragging on the ground, she crawled to Sonny.

“What the hell is she doing?” asked Sonny, sounding like he was unbuckling his belt.

“Told you she was a sub. She loves crawling around like that. Generally loves being used and abused, even humiliated. Bit of a freak. But so fuckin’ nice. I don’t think Jackson even realizes what he’s got there. He thinks he’s in love, the fuckin’ moron. Anyway, she loves to hear just how much of a slut she is, and the things you might make her do. And no need to be gentle either. Save that part for Jackson,” her Master laughed.

Jackson, thought Kyra, going crazy from the feel of her nipples rubbing against the hard plastic as she slowly made her way towards Sonny. Gentle, loving Jackson. She fantasized he was there, in the room, with them, watching her crawl to this other boy to offer her body for his pleasure. She imagined him getting naked, high-fiving her Master, saying he was next to fuck the worthless crawling cunt, that he’d fuck her ass, too, make her scream, until someone else stuck a cock down her throat to stop the mewling. Jackson...

She reached Sonny’s old sneakers, and held on to his legs as she kneeled before him, never looking up at him, his now stiff cock sticking straight out almost poking her in the eyes. She opened her mouth wide, lips stretched, and made a large O right over the tip of his cock. She was breathing hard. After a few seconds, as Sonny did not move, she moaned in a low voice. “Please, sir—please fuck this worthless cunt’ mouth. Go as deep as you want, as hard as you want, as rough as you want. Please, this worthless cunt’s throat is yours to fuck...”

Just saying those words sent waves of lust all through her body. She wanted so much to just reach between her legs and shove a hand up that soaking wet cunt of hers.

Sonny twitched, but her Master intervened. “Come on, man, make her beg. She loves it. Ask her why she’s doing it, why she’s letting you do this to her.”

“Kyra—”

“Come on, man—she told you, she’s a worthless cunt, a cum dump, a fuck whore. Call her what she really is...”

Kyra’s arousal spiked whenever her Master insulted her. She was all that he said she was; her Master knew the truth. She belonged on her knees, on her back, with her mouth open and her legs spread, a service girl, a hole to rent. Her mouth was still an O over the tip of Sonny’s cock, and her breath was hard enough to make it sway—or was it just Sonny’s excitement?

“Why are you doing this... slut?” Sonny was hesitant. Kyra did not care.

“Because my Master told me to. Because after you use me my Master will fuck me and when my Master fucks me I will come.”

“And you want to come?”

“Oh God yes! I want to come so bad. Please shove your cock in my throat and use me and come ! Come all over my face, my eyes, my tits! Come all over me, paint me, drown me! Come all over me and let him fuck me and let me come! Please! I’ll be good. I’ll be the best you’ve ever had, the best pussy, the best ass. I’ll make you dream of my mouth late at night and when you do you can just call me over and grab my hair and push my head down and tell me ‘choke on this cunt!’ and I’ll do it, whenever and wherever you want, with your buds hanging around cheering you on to choke fuck the bitch, to skull fuck the whore!” She finally lifted her eyes towards Sonny, saw the desire in his eyes. “Please! let me c—Gargh!”

She gagged as Sonny thrust his cock into her mouth, deep, in one push, and closed her lips around the hard shaft when it retreated. She was ready for his next thrust and welcomed his cock with a twirl of her tongue and a hard slurp. Sonny was running his hand through her short red hair, keeping her head in place, and she wanted to tell him there was no need as he fucked her mouth with long hard strokes. She was not going anywhere ; she would take him as deep as he wanted for as long as he wanted. She sucked on every in and out stroke, her lips caressing the shaft, her tongue doing acrobatic wonders. Then again, if he wanted to hold her head in place, if that’s what it took to get him off faster, who was she to argue? She was just a worthless cunt. And the faster he came, the faster her cunt would get attention from her Master. Her Master. He was behind her, probably looking at her, while Sonny shoved particularly hard into her again, making her gag once more, some drool escaping the corner of her lips and dripping down her chin. She lifted her hips slightly, and shook her ass, trying to entice her Master to at least run his hand over it, maybe even slid his hand under her tights, under her panties, and shove a couple of fingers insider her little sloppy hole. She moaned at the thought of being a sandwich between a guy that was pushing his cock down her throat and another with his fingers up her ass, while Jackson stood back and watched her putting on an obscene live porn show, and she opened her mouth wider and tilted her head to accept the full length of Sonny’s cock inside her. It slid in without difficulty, the whole length of it, and when her lips hit the base of his cock and her nose smashed into his stomach, she heard him let out a groan of delight and she grabbed his ass and kept him buried inside her throat, swallowing repeatedly in order to milk him dry. Sonny grunted, grasped her hair hard, and almost doubled over. “Fuck! Oh fuck! This feels—Fuck!”

She kept him inside for as long as she could, until her lungs burned from lack of air, and then she pulled back. She gasped for a few seconds before plunging forward again, deep throating him again, basking in the sound of his ecstasy again. She kept going, knowing that Sonny would not be able to hold it in for too long at that pace.

She felt her Master kneel down behind her, and lust flared in her womb. She shook her ass and groaned around Sonny’s cock. Sonny clenched his fist in her hair in response, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Her Master pulled her pants and panties down to her knees, and she wanted to help him pull them off completely but he slapped her ass to stop her and Sonny pulled her head down onto his cock to remind her that she was servicing him.

She therefore obediently continued sucking him, while her Master ran his hand over her backside and down her thighs. The pants around her knees kept her from spreading her legs, but her Master could still slide his hand between her thighs and caress upwards, stopping just short of her pathetically slobbering cunt. She groaned again, trying to push her ass back and get her Master to run his fingers over her pussy, but he kept his fingers aside and Kyra, distracted by the movement, lost her focus and Sonny’s cock thrust hard in her throat and she gagged and choked, drool spurting out the side of her mouth and onto his pants.

As Kyra had her mouth and throat full of Sonny’s cock, her Master reached between her legs and without warning gripped her throbbing clit between his fingers and squeezed. Sparks of pain mixed with pleasure fashed in Kyra’s groin, obliterating everything else, and she screamed around the shaft impaling her—and Sonny groaned and tried to push his cock even deeper insider her gullet. “Fuck! Feels so fucking great when she does that! Fuck! Do it again!”

And her Master squeezed her clit again, harder, and her sensitive organ renewed its broadcast of pleasure and pain. Kyra screamed again, wanting to shout to her Master to stop and to continue, both and neither, and Sonny fucked in and out of her mouth with renewed vigor as she struggled to catch her breath. Her Master was using her! It turned the volcano in her belly into a river of lava coursing throughout her system.

She felt her Master shift his hand between her legs. He was talking to her, she realized. “So my little cunt here likes to have her clitty pinched and twisted and played with, then? Does Jackson do that for you, pinch your clitty while one of his friends fucks your throat?” The thought of Jackson with his hands between her legs, like her Master, and abusing her love button made her moan and redouble her efforts to make Sonny come.

Her Master ran two fingers between her pussy lips. “God! Did you wet yourself, cunt? You’re dripping down your thighs! You are such a slut, turned on by being used in the middle of the gym where anyone could come in and see you...”

There was no denying it. Her Master’s fingers felt so good in her slit, she wanted to press her crotch down to grind against his hand, but she kept being distracted by the cock in her mouth.

Suddenly, as she was pulling out, Her Master grabbed her head and straightened her up so that she was on her knees with her head tilted back. Sonny went “Hey man, what are you—” before her Master interrupted him and put his hand to her face, rubbing fingers shiny with her juices right under her nose. “Smell this, cunt? That’s the smell of a shameless slut, a bitch in heat. That’s why we’re using you like this, because your body is begging for it and any male around can feel it and sense it and smell it.” The smell was strong, musky, making her head spin. Everyone could smell her—he was right. “Please—” she could not help herself. She did not even know what she was asking for—something, anything, release, bliss, pain. “Here,” said her Master, thrusting his fingers in her mouth, “taste what a worthless cunt tastes like.” And she sucked on his fingers like she had sucked on Sonny’s cock, with all of her soul.

Her Master leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Sonny’s gonna come on your face, cunt, then I’m gonna fuck you and come on your face too. Then I’m gonna send you out there with our cum glazed all over your pretty features, and everyone will not only be able to smell the cunt that you are, but also see it. You like that?”

No reply was needed. She moved her hips back and forth, as if she were riding an invisible cock sticking out of the ground. She wanted him, coveted him, needed him. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and pushed her back down towards Sonny, who sank his cock right back into her mouth to the hilt. Sonny fucked her even harder, spurred on by the interruption, and the room was filled with the wet sounds of her mouth and the rhythmic slapping of her forehead on his stomach.

Kyra felt her Master kneel behind her, and then felt his cock, his wonderful hard powerful cock, slide between her thighs, barely touching her slit. He casually rubbed it back and forth between her thighs, as if he were fucking her, and when she struggled—her pants were still around her knees, keeping her from moving freely—to press down upon the cock so that it would slip into her, her Master slapped her ass hard. “Not until he comes on your slut face, cunt!”

She redoubled her efforts, thrusting her face forward with each of Sonny’s counter-thrusts, humming loudly when his cock was in her mouth, slurping him out as he slid out. He was getting close, she could tell, his cock getting harder and harder, and soon she would get her face slathered with his man juice, and then her Master would ravish her and use her and molest her and she would come so hard she was shaking just thinking about it. Sonny was grunting loudly now, his movements getting jerkier, his hips trembling. When he finally erupted in a great shout of pent-up glee, the first jet of cum took her by surprise, and shot straight down her stomach. She pulled back quickly enough so that the second spurt landed on her forehead, the third in her left eye. She jacked off Sonny’s spasming cock, her mouth wide open, coaxing further jets that hit her nose, her left cheek, her upper lip. He came copiously, and his semen was thick and sticky. Each touch on her face sent off little sparks up and down her body. She rubbed his deflating cock on her face, spreading the glaze he had given her evenly—because that was what worthless cunts did when men deigned come on their face.

She basked in the afterglow. With her eyes closed, feeling Sonny’s spent drip down her face, she was seeing Jackson watch her get showered with cum, seeing him come all over her face, calling her a cum rag, telling her that from now on she would take his load on her face every day, until he tired of her and found someone smarter, prettier, sluttier. And then she felt a cock stab into her, stretching out her wet cunt and taking her breath away. Her Master! Her Master was fucking her! He had shoved his cock deep in her cunt and he was fucking her like a bitch, like a worthless cunt with her ass up and available. And just like that, she came, hard, long, her Master’s cock hammering in and out of her spastic pussy, kept tight by the yoga pants prevent her from spreading her legs out. She kept coming, long waves of lust crashing into her, making her moan, groan, scream—she was crazed, and her Master was still fucking her, fast, hard, his hips slamming into her thighs, his stomach slapping onto her ass.

In front of her, sitting down and looking at her, was Sonny and in her delusional orgasm-induced state he was not only Sonny but also Jackson, sitting down with his eyes on her, witnessing her submission, witnessing her acting like a wanton whore, used and abused, her face dripping with cum, her tits hard and sensitive. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, smother him. And her Master behind her was still fucking her, relentless, driven, powerful. And she kept coming, her exhausted body wracked with pleasure.

Sonny was sitting in front of her, and he was Jackson, and he was the young man with the massive biceps from before, but he was also Jackson, and she was coming so hard and she wanted him so much. She was mumbling softly, not even noticing,“Please! Jackson! Please!” She was ready to do whatever he wanted, whomever he wanted. She was ready to give him her body, her soul. She was ready to be his slut, his whore, his cunt. She was ready to fuck him, his friends, his dates. She was ready to clean his cock after his dates, suck his cum out of his dates’ pussy, lick them up before he fucked them. She was ready to fuck another girl for him, ready to fuck a dog, a pig. She was ready to fuck whatever he wanted.

Kyra, through her lust, through the haze of her orgasms, saw Sonny’s cock twitch, and she knew he was turned on by watching her getting royally fucked by her Master, and she came again and her cunt squeezed her Master’s cock hard as he fucked her and slapped her ass over and over again and she begged for it to end and for it to never stop and her Master’s thrusts became stronger and harsher and she was being plowed into the ground and her right ass cheek was on fire and her cunt was burning up and cum was dripping from her face, and then her Master pulled out of her and flipped her to the ground onto her back, and the pants around her knees still kept her from spreading her legs wide and offer her slutty cunt to the world for anyone to come and possess her.

Her Master kneeled over her and jerked his cock off aiming at her face, at her chest, and she, Kyra MacKenna, at the sight of that cock that had brought her so much pleasure, pressed her slut tits together and pushed them up, offering them as a gift, pinching her nipples hard. “Please—Please—” she was moaning again, unable to stop herself, unwilling to do so. Her Master’s cock gave a sharp twitch and then—just like that—she was drowned under jets of searing cum that landed on her tits, her neck, all the way to her forehead, adding sticky liquid to that already accumulated on her face. She opened her mouth and some of her Master’s seed landed on her tongue and she tasted the sour honey taste and she came again as she swallowed it all down, a subdued orgasm this time, toned down, like the dying flail of a fallen angel, as if her inner fire had been doused by her Master’s spent.

Her Master collapsed next to her, as she worked the sticky liquid into her tits, massaging hard, luxuriating in the sensations of having been used like the worthless cunt she was.

“Fuck!” groaned her Master. “That was something.”

“No kidding,” said Sonny. “Intense.”

“So, was I right, or was I right?”

Sonny nodded. “You were right, man. Shouldn’t have doubted. Jackson’s a lucky bastard.”

Her Master looked at her, and slapped her thigh. “Does your boyfriend know how much of a slut her girlfriend really is, you cunt?”

Kyra turned her head to look at her Master. He could see the real Her, knew the real Her, and that made the fires in her crotch flare again. “Jackson loves me.”

Her Master laughed. “Sure he does. And you love getting your hole stuffed with cock, right?” He leaned over and without warning pushed three fingers into her sloppy cunt, and she gasped and moaned and tilted her hips to provide him with better access.

“Dude, I gotta go,” broke in Sonny. “I can’t afford to fail Calculus again.”

“Yeah, I should go too.” Her Master let her go, and she whimpered at the loss of his fingers.

Sonny and her Master were getting dressed, and she looked at them, still kneading her tits. Her Master turned to her, and smiled wide. He handed her tee shirt. “Here, put this back on. No bra. I love seeing the twins bounce around as you move. Now, you’re going to go to the dressing room to shower and stuff—it is the end of your workout after all—but you’re not going to clean up your face until then, okay? You’re going to walk down through the gym with our cum on your face. I want everyone that sees you to think what a slut you are to be walking around with your face glazed with cum. Is that clear?”

“Yes, I understand.” Everyone would know she was a worthless slut. Her cunt burned with arousal.

“Dude,” interjected Sonny as she slid her shirt down over her body. It was sticking over her tits, clammy with their drying cum. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Her Master shrugged. “Don’t worry, she’ll love it. She’ll probably come a few times on the way down. And what are people gonna do? They’ll just look back if they even notice, and wonder if they really saw what they saw. Then she’ll shower and it’ll be as if nothing happened.”

“You’re sick, dude!” Sonny shook his head, but now he sounded amused.

She walked across the small room towards the door. Her shirt was plastered over her chest, her tits swinging almost obscenely, unsupported, her nipples tenting the material. Fresh cum was dripping slowly down her face. In a few seconds, she would open the door and walk out, doing what her Master had ordered her to do and everyone who saw her would see her for what she truly was, a worthless cunt who let men cum on her face and bore it proudly as her badge of slutdom. They would point at her, laughing at her, lusting at her—the men would wonder what her lips felt like on their cock, what her legs felt like wrapped around their waist as they plowed into her, what her cunt felt like squeezing them hard as she was wracked by an orgasm. She thought about all those looks she was about to receive, and before she reached the door, she squeezed her thighs together and came one more time.

Fifteen minutes later, Kyra MacKenna emerged from the women’s changing room, her short red hair still wet from the shower. Staring at the clock on the wall when she gave back her lock and picked up her ID card back at the front end, she realized that she would be late for her three-thirty class. Her training session with Brad and his friend—what was it? Sonny—had taken a bit longer than she had hoped. Thinking back upon it, she wondered why. There had been nothing remarkable about the training session. She had practically zoned out for most of it.