An Edited Life, Part 3

Introduction:
The steel posture collar chilled my neck and my belly raged hot as I kneeled on Andre Gregory’s living room floor.
He clasped the collar’s other two locks before circling around me, his eyes taking me in, my body bare except for the collar he’d just closed around my neck and locked.
I’d read about things like this. While such stories intrigued me, I’d never imagined myself in such a position; being bold enough to yield control to another human being, to subject myself to their dominance, their desires.
Andre turned his back to me again, his hand disappearing into the box, this time drawing from it four smaller metal rings whose designs matched that of the collar I wore.
“Hold out your hands,” he said, and I complied, reaching in front of me as he attached the cuffs to my wrist and locked them, one at a time.
“Stand,” he said, “and put your feet on the coffee table, in turn.
I did as I was told, rising from the floor and putting my left foot on the table long enough for him to cuff and lock my ankle, before doing the same with my right foot.
Twenty-four hours ago, Andre and I were at work together, toiling through another day of information among a half year’s worth of days filled with information, information and even more information.
Slightly more than twelve hours ago, he picked me up at Escape, bought me a drink and danced with me before bringing me to his home and fucking me thrice.
And now stood before him, naked, collared, cuffed, my pussy bare and my confidence and self-control having abandoned me, shifting on my feet as I awaited his next words or actions.
“Return to your knees, please,” Andre said calmly.
I sank back to the rug, my feet butt resting against my heels, my thighs in a “V” and my hands resting on them as my back and neck remained straight.
“Perfect,” he said, “Absolutely perfect.”
The emotions that flowed through me are difficult to describe. After six months without a social life, there was pride, even relief, in once again being the object of a man’s desire, his lust. With the yielding of control came uncertainty and nervousness. And the thought of walking into the office Monday left me horrified over the embarrassment I knew I’d feel.
Andre reached beneath my face, curling his forefinger beneath my chin and lifting, and I knew he wanted me to stand again. He led me to the sofa’s back and bent me over it, just as he had the night before, only this time he pulled my wrists behind me. I heard a couple of snaps and realized my cuffs had been clasped together, and then with two more snaps I found my ankles locked to each another.
I stood still in the silence, bent over the sofa’s back, my tits dangling from my frame with my wrists and ankles locked together, leaving me completely at Andre’s whims.
A squeal exploded from me when Andre spanked me forcefully. God it hurt.
“To whom do you belong, Gabi?” Andre said.
The question was just unexpected enough that my hesitation brought another brutal slap to my ass, and I whimpered as the pain brought tears to my eyes.
“I’m yours, Andre, yours,” I muttered.
“What did you call me?” he asked before spanking me again, this time hard enough to make me lurch forward over the sofa to the point that my feet came off the floor.
“Master!” I shrieked, hoping for the sake of my burning ass that I’d gotten it right.
Andre said nothing, and the next sensation I felt was of his fingertip smearing something cold and slick onto my rose, before sliding his finger through it and spreading the cool jelly inside me.
“Oh God, there’s no way I could …” I began to object, only to be cutoff in midsentence.
“You can and you will,” said Andre.
He removed his finger from my ass and pulled me open, teasing my back door with his thick, spongy head before pressing forward and filling my rump.
I thrashed against the couch, my colon searing as he inched further and further into me.
Somehow, I managed not to scream.
It took away my breath when Andre pulled back and pushed into me again, and I squealed, “Please! Please! Please!” as he sodomized my helpless body.
“You’ll thank me for this later,” he said, as he rocked behind me, my ass agonizing as his motion stretched it.
What was to happen later? How is having my boss’s fat black dick in my ass going to help me later?
He continued to take me in the most intimate way I could imagine and I tried not to hyperventilate or pass out from the pain.
Andre’s hands stayed on my hips as he thrust hard into me, and my breasts danced wildly as they hanged from my chest, bouncing out of control each time his pelvis slapped my buns.
The relief I felt when he pulled out of me was all too brief.
Andre unclasped my ankle’s cuffs and guided me around the sofa before releasing my arms from behind my back. He put me on the couch’s cushions, on my back, and then connected each wrist to its corresponding ankle before crawling between my legs and returning his prick to my ass.
I felt possessed, owned. I was being objectified and used, and it suddenly seemed like a respected co-worker saw me as nothing as an instrument of pleasure.
Immediately after sliding back into my pucker, Andre started fucking me harder than he had any of the three times he’d taken my pussy. It was painful and humiliating, and I was helpless to do anything about it.
And it excited me.
Even in college, when everyone experiments with their sexuality, I’d never felt as much a slut as I did with my wrists and ankles locked together and my boss’s dick pounding my ass.
“I’m such a fucking whore,” I gasped, almost out of breath.
“Yes you are,” Andre chuckled, “And you’re my whore.”
Again and again he planted his shaft deep inside my colon, and the pain eventually gave way to a numbness I’d never before felt. Without warning, my pussy gushed against his pelvis and he laughed aloud as he said, “You are such a natural slave.”
A hot flash erupted within me as the word “slave” raked against my soul, but I had little time to process what Andre had said to me before Andre filled my ass with spunk, a sensation I’d never before experienced.
He held still as he came and we looked at each other, his satisfaction made obvious by the expression on his face.
“Jesus Christ, what are you doing to me?” I said as his jizz began to leak from my rump.
“Claiming you, enslaving you, making everything about you mine, Gabi,” he said, still holding himself deep in my jelly-like ass.
For whatever reason, the first thing that hit me was the irony of the beginning of Andre’s capture of me taking place at Escape, literally moments before I would have escaped from what had otherwise been an utterly boring and useless evening.
“Can we really do this?” I asked, hoping he understood the concerns that were so obvious to me.
“Given what’s happened during the last fifteen or sixteen hours, it seems as if we’ve done it,” he retorted.
Andre unclasped my cuffs before withdrawing from me, and then pulled me atop him as he lay on the sofa, placing his hand at the back of my head, pulling my face to his and giving me what felt like an almost loving kiss.
“We’re going out tonight, and it’s likely to be different than anything you’ve experienced,” said Andre, after taking his lips from mine.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering just how much more different from my past life experience the weekend could become than what it already had.
“I’ll not tell you ahead of time,” he said. “Just trust me.”
It was at that point that I did something that, in retrospect, surprised even me.
“Yes, my Master,” I replied, causing Andre to purr happily.
Master? Really? Had my existence at The Meadows grown so dull, so mundane that the man who had been my superior at work – even a friend – could, with seemingly damned little effort, turn me into his fucktoy?
“We should get some sleep,” Andre said. “It’s going to be a long night.”
We rose from the couch and walked down the hall to his bedroom, nuzzling one another as we dozed off in his bed, my slumber only slightly delayed as I wondered what the evening would bring.
As had been the case when I’d awoken in the morning, Andre was already out of bed. I’d been out for a couple of hours, and with my awakening came the scent of food, grilled food.
I found Andre on the deck, dressed and manipulating steaks on his grill, he turned and smiled at me as I stepped onto the deck from the French doors, purring, “Good evening, my pet.”
“Need help with anything?” I asked, only to immediately realize that there was little appeal in preparing food naked.
“Not at all,” he said. “I’ve got everything under control.”
“Even me,” I couldn’t help but smirk.
“Even you,” he quickly added.
It didn’t take long before dinner was ready. I’m not sure how I’d missed it, but hours before Andre had placed a couple of potatoes in his slow cooker so that they’d be ready for dinner.
We returned to the table where we’d had lunch, eating ribeyes, the potatoes and a selection of fruit slices that includes apples, bananas and oranges, along with whole grapes and strawberries.
We made small talk as we dined, but I knew better than to ask about the evening’s plans, having already been told they wouldn’t be revealed in advance. I was, however, hopeful that I’d be allowed to wash off the remnants of the day’s repeated fucking before we did whatever it was Andre had planned.
Once dinner was finished, we cleared the table, taking the dishes to the kitchen, washing and drying them before putting them away.
“I’m going to remove your collar and cuffs so you can bathe,” Andre said to me. “Take your time, relax, enjoy the spa.”
I followed Andre to his bedroom where he unlocked and removed the collar and each of the four cuffs. Even after having had them on but a few hours, my neck, wrists and ankles felt as bare as my pussy had right after I’d shaved it at Andre’s insistence.
It seemed to take forever for the tub to fill, but it eventually did. Steam rose from the water’s surface, and I turned on the spa’s jets, circulating the vessel’s liquid before happily emerging myself in its wet warmth.
The bath felt wonderful.
There are times one doesn’t realize how much they ache till they relax. The pulsating water massaged me, relaxed me, put me at ease. And then, just as I might have otherwise drifted off to sleep, I began to wash myself, slowly, thoroughly, wanting to be clean for my Master.
It was with regret that I eventually pulled myself from the tub and began to dry myself with a towel, drying and styling my hair and applying the makeup Andre so graciously brought from my apartment before walking into his bedroom again.
Lying on his bed were some of my clothes, but the white satin corset and its matching thong, along with white thigh-highs and heeled sandals weren’t exactly what I’d imagined I’d be wearing out.
Knowing better than to ask, I began to put them on. Andre eventually entered the room and cinched the corset tight and tied it before putting my collar and cuffs back on and locking them.
He motioned for me to follow him, and we walked down the hall, through his living room and into his garage, getting into his Wrangler and pulling out of his driveway with the night sky above us.
Andre drove to a more expensive neighborhood within The Meadows, the place where Alan Mercer – The Meadow’s founder and the man who recruited me – lived. I was horrified when Andre pulled up to the gate outside Alan’s home, announced himself into the speaker and the gate slid open, allowing us entry.
There were several other cars on driveway that arched in front of Alan’s home, and I began to feel sick, realizing that I was going to be paraded into the house by Andre Gregory, collared and cuffed, wearing a corset, thong, thigh-highs and heeled sandals before Alan and God knows who else.
Andre parked and motioned for me to wait for him. He walked around the Wrangler and opened my door, reaching into his pocket and producing a leash which he attached to my posture collar, and then he led me to Alan’s front door.
The door opened as we walked up the steps toward it.
“Good evening, Andre, and … Gabi?” said Alan, causing me to freeze in my tracks, the leash Andre held stretching as he continued to walk.
“This is quite a surprise,” Alan continued, “one we’re all sure to enjoy.”
We entered the house and followed Alan to his basement where we were met by about ten men, all of whom I recognized as the elite of The Meadows, a banker, a couple of lawyers, a judge, among others, and they all began to whoop and holler as Andre led me into the middle of the room.
Embarrassed and humiliated, I looked around to see them all smiling back at me. The sickness in the pit of my stomach that I’d felt since Andre turned the Wrangler toward Alan’s gate grew tenfold as I stood in a room with a dozen men, all of whom knew me professionally.
At this point, I realized that the likely best scenario is that Alan and the other ten men would watch Andre fuck me senseless as he’d been doing since last night, but that an even more dreadful image was of the dozen of them gangbanging me for hours on end, my body already uncomfortable from what it had endured from Andre.
“Is everyone ready?” Alan asked, prompting another round of joyful shouts.
Alan walked toward a door, and I had no choice but to move with Andre as he held the leash and followed Alan, with everyone else trailing me.
Alan opened the door, reached inside it and turned on a light, and then Andre and I were but steps behind him after he entered.
The room’s contents left me aghast.
“Your choice, Andre,” Alan said, prompting Andre to guide me to something near the room’s center.
Next to us stood a pair of stainless steel poles with a mat between them. Each pole had identical loops spaced about three inches apart running their lengths.
Andre detached the leash from my collar before unsnapping the garters that connected my thigh-highs to my corset, and then he slipped his thumbs into my thong’s sides and pulled it down my legs.
Alan handed Andre a bar with clasps on each end, and Andre knelt before me and pulled my ankles apart, affixing each of the clasps to either of my ankle cuffs, forcing my legs to remain open. He then slid a stand to my pelvis, bending me over its leather-clad padded top, and then he chained my wrists to the steel poles on either side of me, before using two more chains to attach the sides of my collar to each of my wrists.
The position was similar to having been placed in a stockade.
The dozen men were behind me, and the posture collar and meticulous chaining prevented me from turning my head to see what was happening.
So I stood there, still, helpless and expecting the worst.
Several silent moments passed before I heard several men smirk behind me. The sensations I felt next were ones that I’d become increasing familiar with since last night.
Andre grabbed me from behind and in one swift, brutal motion he shoved himself deep inside me, causing me to jerk forward and emit a raw, throaty groan as he sank into my snatch.
The chains began to rattle as he fucked me, and I stood there, leaning over the padded pedestal, chained to the poles on either side of me, presented for his use.
“Look at that slut take that thing,” someone smirked from behind me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I raged with embarrassment. A day ago, I’d left my office a respected professional among these people, or at least I thought I had. Now, every single one of these men viewed me as nothing more than a tool for their pleasure.
“Who owns this pussy?” Andre growled.
“You do, Master,” I breathlessly panted, prompting chuckles from some of the other men.
Gazing at the floor, I noticed a pair of feet in front of me. Andre grabbed a handful of my hair and raised my head till my lips were even with the head of an erect cock. My eyes glanced upward to see Alan Mercer’s face, and another wave of heat resonated through me.
My lips parted for Alan’s dick, and he filled my mouth with it. Alan wasn’t nearly as challenging to accommodate as Andre had been earlier in the day, but few men would be.
As the man whose signature was on every paycheck I’d received for the past six months began to use my mouth, Andre’s vicious thrusts continued to rattle my crotch, and the other ten men watched as I was abused at both ends.
It took but a few minutes before Alan’s warm goo was sliding down my throat and oozing from the corners of my mouth. His pelvis shook against my face as he unloaded, all the while Andre still relentlessly stabbing my pussy with his enormous black shaft, driving me wild.
I hadn’t even caught my breath before another dick was at my lips, and I obediently began to suckle it, just as I had Alan’s.
Andre’s release was just like all his others had been; hot, massive, filling. Again, he stayed completely in me as his cock spit the contents of his balls into my womb, and I felt marked, possessed.
His pussy.
Andre had barely exited me before another, noticeably smaller prick had taken its place in my gaped, seeded slit and began to slide back and forth amidst my cum-soaked walls.
And that’s how the night continued. For the next several hours, my pussy, ass and mouth absorbed the same twelve cocks time and time again, leaving me numb, raw, filled and covered in cum. I was broken, degraded, used. My athletic frame had been pushed to its limits and then some, and I was left a quivering mess, my mind nothing but a void.
I’d not even noticed that the fucking had stopped and that I’d been unchained from the poles till my body was against Andre’s and he was holding me to support me. I was aware enough to blush when the men applauded as I staggered on weak legs, leaning against Andre as we exited the room, went up the stairs and left Alan’s home.
Andre opened the door on my side of his Wrangler and helped me into the seat, and I groaned weakly when pain racked through me as I sat. It was only then that I noticed that Andre hadn’t even bothered to put my thong back on me, and that it probably didn’t even matter.
After closing my door, Andre entered the vehicle’s other side, drove around the arched driveway, stopping only long enough for the gate to open, before turning onto the street and heading home. My eyes closed and I drifted off during the few minutes’ journey back to Andre’s house.
My next recollection was of Andre lifting me from the seat and carrying me into his home, through the living room and down the hall to his bedroom. He laid me on the bed, removing my shoes, stockings and corset. I hurt all over and was barely connected to reality as he undressed me.
“How often … am I gonna … have to do … that?” I said in little more than a whisper.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Andre replied. “But I know they absolutely adored you.”
Slowly, I curled into a ball on Andre’s bed and closed my eyes.
“Get some sleep, pet,” my Master said. “The weekend’s only half over.”

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