"Please," she moaned, shuddering in my arms. "Please..."

I held her and rocked her back and forth, like a little girl. "What, baby? Tell me what you want. You need a break? Want something to eat? Got to go pottie? Tell daddy."

I could actually feel her thinking about that... what to ask me for, that would move the situation closer to getting her out of her. After a second or two, she said, "Please, Damien... I... I have to go to the bathroom."

I picked her up in my arms, making it look easy (it wasn't; Ali is in nice shape, but she's a voluptuous woman) and carried her in and set her on the toilet. "There you go, sugar. That good?"

"Yes," she said, looking up at me, feigning a smile. "Can... can I be alone? Please?"

"No," I said firmly. "I'm going to fuck your mouth while you use the toilet. Growing babygirls like you need their breakfast."

She groaned and I could see she wanted to protest... but I knew she would also be thinking about the best way to get all the pics back from me... including the ones I'd emailed to myself. She'd probably be realizing right now that even if her mad dash for the door had worked, she'd just have been outside, in a public hotel hallway, completely naked... and with an angry ex lover behind her, who had a whole lot of embarrassing photos and videotape of her, a signed agreement that would destroy her if it ever got made public, and no reason whatsoever to want to be nice to her about any of it, either.

In short, she realized, given a moment to think, that she was utterly at my mercy, and the only chance she had was the apparent fact that she was actually here willingly, and I wasn't actually raping her or keeping her captive... we were just playing. And eventually, we'd stop and she could go back to her previous life... provided she could somehow persuade me to give her all the pics back.

Without realizing it, she'd been put in a position where she was almost forced to assume that she was taking part in this scenario willingly... otherwise, she had no hope at all. And once she did that, a whole emotional and psychic center of balance shifted in her mind, whether she knew it or not. Once she accepted that on some level she'd wanted this and consented to it... whether she knew it or not, at that moment, I had her.

After a moment, she looked up at me and opened her mouth and whispered the words I wanted to hear:

"All... all right, Damien..."

I admit, I was ready to fuck something; all the time I'd been torturing her (mentally and physically) I'd had a hard on you could break bottles over. I'd fucked her a few times during the weekend, and on the first day I'd had each of the other ladies at least once, not to mention the Doberman, but the last time I'd cum had been the night before, with her sleeping, in her pussy and all over her face. And this would be with her awake, and more or less of her own free will. Mmmmmm.

I held her head between my hands and she didn't hesitate, she reached up with a groan, grasped my cock, slid her open mouth over the head of it, and started to suck. Ali is no stranger to blowjobs, of course, and back when we'd first been together, she'd once confided to me that there was absolutely nothing she enjoyed more in the world than having a cock in her mouth. I knew that on one level she wasn't very willing. But as I suspected, once she had my dick actually in her mouth, the old Ali... the real Ali, Ali the Super Slut... took over.

She moaned deep in her throat, and bobbed her head forward, taking my modest (but very hard) six inches all the way down with no problem at all. (Of course, she'd deep throated a ten inch black dick earlier that weekend with scarcely less hesitation or difficulty; Ali is a very talented oral slut.) She started to swirl her tongue and bob her head, and as she did I heard her piss start to splash into the toilet.

Ali gives a good blowjob, I have to give her that. This one started off a little less enthusiastic than others I remembered from her, but she got into it within a minute or so. I was holding her head and as I heard her moan and felt her start working her mouth in earnest on me, I began to fuck her face back, matching my rhythm to hers, pumping my dick in and out of her hot, wet oral orifice.

"Nmmmmmm," she moaned now, slurping around my cock as she bobbed and I pumped. Her piss was still running into the toilet. I felt my orgasm welling up quickly and didn't bother trying to hold it back. Within three minutes of her starting to blow me, I went off like a volcano in her avidly sucking mouth. She gulped it down without the slightest resistance, which was something else I remembered about Ali; she's one of these rare women that you not only don't have to ask to swallow your cum, but who, if for some reason you DON'T want to cum in her mouth, actually gets disappointed. She's a natural born sperm guzzler; she loves the stuff.

So she gulped my cum down as I spurted it into her mouth, and I sighed as I felt and heard her doing it. Listening to an avid dick-slut slurping down my cum is, to me, nearly as pleasurable as the sensation of the orgasm itself. Ali might have started out reluctant, and only pretending to be willing to keep on my good side, but I knew for a fact that by the time we'd finished, she was loving it as much as I was... and I knew that would be making her feel terrible, too.

Finally I sighed, pulled my cock out of her mouth (just as I remembered from ten years before, she whimpered like a puppy and strained with her head to keep me swallowed up; Ali hates to give up a dick once she's got it between her lips). I firmly held her head away, and wiped my dick off in her pretty blonde hair.

She groaned when I did that; one thing Ali has always hated is a mess. She's a slut, but she's weird that way. She told me on our first date that I could cum inside her anywhere I wanted, any time we were alone together, especially her mouth, as much as I wanted... but she preferred I didn't cum ON her. So I enjoyed wiping off in her hair a lot, just as I'd enjoyed watching four black guys earlier that weekend shoot their loads all over her face and body while she writhed around begging for more.

"Are you done?" I asked her, smiling down at her.

She looked revolted, at me, and probably at herself. Then she forced herself to smile back at me. "Yuh yes, Damien. Was... was I good?" Ali had always used to ask that; sexually, she's very insecure... although she hadn't been on GHB, that was for sure.

"You were perfect, angel," I said, running my fingers through a section of her hair not matted with my drying sperm. "But now I have to piss."

"Oh," she said, looking up at me. "Um... okay... let me up, and..."

"No, baby," I said, gently but firmly, "not in the toilet."

She looked up at me uncomprehendingly. Then her eyes filled with tears again as she realized what I wanted. "Damien..." she whispered. "Please..."

I frowned. "You did it for the black guys. You did it for the DOGS." I saw her shudder as she remembered the pictures. "You don't want to do it for me?" I let her see me looking hurt. "Fine, then. Come on, I'll tie you to the coffee table, and we can..."

Ali did an amazing thing then. She forced herself to laugh, and said, "Duh Damien, suh silly... I meant..." She hesitated, and I saw a momentary spasm of disgust go over her facial features, and then she continued, brightly, "please piss in your little Ali's muh mouth. Uh of course."

I patted her head. "Sweetie," I said. "I'm sorry. Thank you."

She opened wide for me again, and I eased my cock back into her mouth. Staring up at me, eyes wide open and tears staining her cheeks, she tightened her lips on my half hard cock. I sighed... and started to piss.

She went 'gggghhhhhhhh' deep in her throat... and started gulping. Obviously utterly disgusted and grossed out, nonetheless, she started gulping and slurping and swallowing. She couldn't keep up with it; actually swallowing piss straight from a cock without spilling any takes a lot of practice in keeping one's throat totally open... you don't swallow so much as just let it pour straight down.

Ali didn't have enough experience to know how to do that yet, so my piss ran out over her lower lip and down over her chin in a steady stream, down her neck, between her tits, down her stomach, through her bruised and welted up cunt, and into the toilet. But she was swallowing a lot of it, too. Her eyes open and watching me all the time, going ulp, ulp, ulp, ulp, ulp...

I swear, it was sheer heaven.

Finally I finished up. I kept my cock in her mouth and told her to lick and suck to get the last few drops. She sobbed but did it. When I took my dick out, she closed her eyes and let her head drop onto her chest and started to cry. I let her for a minute or so. Then, finally, I put my fingers under her chin and tilted her face back up to me.

She looked up at me with miserable eyes. "Yuh yes," she said, sounding very tired. "What now?"

"That was nice," I told her. "Thank you. May I hit you in the face?"

She just looked up at me, very apathetically, for several seconds. Then, finally, she said, "What... why?"

I shrugged. "I just want to. Open handed. I won't mark you up."

Her eyes closed and I felt her chin tremble a bit against my fingers. I saw her lips compress. Then, finally, she said:

"Oh... okay," in a very low, dispirited voice. "If... if you want to..."

I smiled. She was getting to where I needed her to be. But it wasn't quite enough. "Then ask me to," I said to her, quietly but firmly.

That got her to open her eyes again and look at me. "Wha... what?" she asked, sounding as if she really couldn't believe what I'd said.

"Ask me to," I repeated, gently. "Ask me to hit you in the face. Say 'please hit me in the face, Damien, I want you to'."

She just looked up at me dumbly. After several seconds, she finally said, in a very childlike voice, "But... Damien... I... I don't want you to hit me in the face."

"Yes, you do," I said, very firmly. "Now ask me to."

She blinked up at me. "But... but..." She didn't sound like she was protesting, just honestly confused. "But Damien... wuh why... why do I want you tuh... to huh hit me in the face? I don't understand."

"Because you love me, Ali," I explained, patiently. "You know I'd enjoy hitting you in the face, and you want to please me more than anything. Don't you?"

She groaned and closed her eyes for ten seconds... twenty. Then opened them again.

Then she said, dully, "Yes, Damien. I... I luh love you. Puh please huh hit me in the... the fuh face."

So I slapped her in the face, so hard it knocked her sideways off the toilet and onto the tiled floor.

"Thank you, baby," I said, as she started to cry again, too weak to even get back up.

Then I bent down and helped her to her feet again. "Now," I said, "do you want to go do the coffee table thing, sweetie? You really need some marks on your back, you know. To go with the nice set on your front. Or we could just get in bed and maybe I could buttfuck you...?"

She shuddered as I helped her, slowly and haltingly, to the door leading back into the hotel suite. "Wuh whatever you wuh want, Damien," she said, slowly and miserably. And looked up at me. And smiled a ghastly, trembling, utterly false smile.

I smiled back at her. "Well," I said. "Hmmm. Whatever I want. Well now."

I picked her up and carried her to the bed. "Well, let's see about these candles, then..."

Five minutes later, I was watching with great pleasure as Ali, with two trembling hands, shoved the third of the police nightsticks up her ass, pushing it up alongside the other two which she had already, quite carefully, forced up there, at my urging. Prior to the nightsticks she'd worked the fat (and I mean fat... a good four inches across) red candle up her bruised and welted pussy, which was now stretched quite pleasantly around it as she lay on her side, reaching down between her spread legs, sobbing brokenly as she slowly and torturously worked the last billy club up her back entrance.

Finally she got it worked a good ten inches up her, like the other two, and looked up at me. "Okay?" she said, voice full of tears.

"VERY nice," I said. "You look really good, baby." She did, too. "Roll over on your tummy, please." She groaned but did it, reaching down to hold the candle in her as she repositioned herself. I picked up my digital camera and took quite a few pics of her. Her face didn't show so they wouldn't work for blackmailing her, but they'd look good on some websites I knew of.

"Now," I said, "do you want me to tie you or can you lie very still, like a mouse?"

She groaned. Then said, "I... I'll hold still, Damien." She cried as she said it.

"Good girl," I said, and picked up the cat o' nine tails. "Now, this is just to warm you up. The metal map pointer is the one that will really sting. And then, when I start writing my name on your ass with the box cutter..." I clicked my tongue. "I have to tell you, Ali, you're one sick little slut. I mean, I respect that, and I'm enjoying this, too, but I wouldn't let someone beat me, torture me, write on my ass with a razor... I mean, damn. And you get off on it, too. That's pretty fucking depraved."

She moaned miserably and writhed, the nightsticks clacking together pleasantly as she did. Then she said, hopelessly, "Yes, Damien. I'm one sick little slut..."

We wound up staying in the hotel for another week or so. After that first day, Monday, I eased off on the beatings and torture; Ali's spirit had pretty much been broken, anyway, and she no longer put up even the feeblest resistance, no matter what I did to her or asked her to do for me. On Wednesday, Ali, head down and somewhat shamefaced, actually asked if, in addition to drinking my piss (which had become a regular part of our routine), she could clean me up after I took a shit. As she put it, "that's what a good toilet girl does, isn't it?" So I let her, and really enjoyed her tongue in my ass crack and up my ass. She did a very thorough job, and seemed to actually enjoy it... the degradation, if not the actual taste.

By Thursday, she had a lot of her strength back and her bruises and welts had reached their most visually spectacular point. There was a full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and whenever I would let her, Ali would go in there and preen, staring at herself with a mixture of disgust, revulsion, and admiration. Once that afternoon, she came back to bed and snuggled up to me and said "Damien? Am I always going to have bruises and welts from now on?"

I kissed her and told her no, sometimes I'd want to take her to a beach or something and show her off, and then I'd want her to be unmarked. She sighed and said, "Yes, Damien... whatever you want. But... do you think I look pretty with them?"

I kissed her again and said yes, very pretty. She seemed contented with that.

*

Later that night, she knelt beside me at the table and gave me helpful suggestions as I created a special Yahoo site just for her and uploaded all the pics I'd taken of her last weekend, and the ones I'd taken of our time together since. We set up an email address for her asking for interested partners (including K9 partners, Ali made sure I remembered to add).

In between her helpful suggestions, of course, she was blowing me, as she knows that's what a good slut does when she doesn't have anything better to do, and she's on her knees anyway.

Friday was busy. First thing, we got up and went out and I found a tattoo artist to inscribe Ali's ass with DAMIEN'S FUCK TOY in black and red gothic scrollwork. The place where I'd written my first name on her asscheek with the box cutter had almost healed up by then, but was still slightly visible, and even with the tattoo, Ali had already informed me that she wouldn't feel right if I didn't cut a new message into her ass whenever the old one healed up. So at the tattoo parlor, the woman who ran it looked on in interest as I carved SPERM BANK into Ali's untattooed cheek, while Ali whimpered and tried not to squirm.

When I asked if Ali could pay for the tattoo in trade, the woman, a rather skanky looking, rail thin bleached blonde chain smoker who was a walking advertisement for her own art, happily accepted. Ali must have made her cum four times with her tongue before she reluctantly admitted that the bill was paid and wrote out an invoice for us, on which I asked her to be very specific as to how Ali had paid.

The invoice finally said, "For Hannah Alicia Moore, One tattoo, on left asscheek, 'Damien's Fuck Toy', black and red, paid for in full with cunnilingus by recipient'."

I tucked it into my pocket, telling Ali we'd scan it and put it on the website, along with pictures of her new tattoo, her new body cutting, and the digital photos I'd taken of her doing the tattooer. She sighed in contentment and nodded eagerly, her fingers intertwined through mine as we left.

On the way back from the tattoo place, the two of us had driven around the city from one ATM to another, cleaning out the joint accounts with her ATM card. (I hadn't wanted to risk taking Ali into the bank. She was very happily wearing a thong bikini I'd bought for her which left very little to the imagination, but a bank teller who saw her in it, saw all her bruises and welts, not to mention the tattoo and the ass cuttings, and realized she was closing her joint account, might well decide to call the cops.) We then drove to her former house, since she'd assured me her hubby would be at work all day.

We spent a few leisurely hours cleaning out all the easily portable valuables and loading them into the U- haul we'd rented with her credit card (I could have afforded it myself, but so far I'd put everything, including the hotel room, on Ali's credit card, to provide further evidence of her willing involvement).

After we'd loaded up the U-haul, Ali made a few impishly wicked suggestions, so we wound up setting up their camcorder on a tripod next to the bed, and making a videotape for her husband of me fucking Ali roughly in her cunt and ass, her eagerly sucking me off after that, and then, as a finisher, her begging me to punch her hard right in the face, which of course I happily did. She groaned and looked into the camera after I belted her a good one, and said, "Oh GOD it's so nice to be the property of a real man," licked her already swelling lower lip, smiled, and then reached over and turned the camcorder off.

I then took her back to the hotel. Ali was in a state of near constant horniness by that point, almost like she was on GHB again, although she wasn't, and I let her suck my cock and lick my ass the whole trip back (we were in a rented limo) although I didn't come again.

When we got back to the hotel, I had her start making phone calls. I had her call the four black guys she'd done the previous weekend and invite them back for a return engagement as soon as they could get there. They all eagerly accepted; I'd told them to hang around a week and paid for their motel rooms. I would have preferred to have the dog handlers come back, but you can't really organize an all dog gang-bang, despite some porn I've read; the male dogs tend to fight each other for the bitch, and don't cooperate. An all black gang bang should be fine for my purposes.

When the black guys started showing up, I welcomed them all in. Ali was especially welcoming. I'd left the jpgs scattered around and put the DVD of her last weekend in the player, while carefully packing up all my stuff, and left a copy of the signed agreement in the bedside table. A few minutes later, when Ali was fully engaged on the bed, I slipped out the door, left it about six inches ajar, and headed down to the limo.

On the way to the airport, I called Ali's husband and told him where he'd find her... then smiled as I took out my list and started planning my revenge on Courtney, a girl I'd once worked with for two years who had laughed in my face when I asked her if she'd like to go to a concert with me...