Although this can be read on its own, I would recommend reading parts one and two.
After being picked up by a Dominant man while enjoying a quiet drink in Cambridge, stephanie is pushed into selling herself for sex and has now been dressed by his driver to go to a private club called the Manor.
"Take her dress off please."
I'm shocked as the driver deftly unzips my dress and pulls it to the floor, leaving me standing in just my stockings, suspenders and heels. I note the foundation is wearing off and the bruises on my tits and neck are again obvious, the realization of how much I have changed already today should upset me, but I feel my nipples hardening and my skin flushing.
"Pull her plug out too."
I am aghast as the driver gets me to rest my hands on the roof of the car but don't object as he grasps the plug in my arse and pulls it out, leaving me feeling empty and wanting. I note with shocked amusement that whilst this place was quiet, there are clearly two or three security cameras trained on me. The embarrassment continues as Sir hands me a bottle of lube and insists that I make sure I am slippery as well as now being both very open and empty. Sir hands me a tight latex pencil skirt, which I slide up over my hips, then he hands me a slightly padded but deeply plunging push-up bra which I clip behind me. As I fasten it I realise that it is effectively a shelf, which exaggerates my breasts and proffers them, leaving my areolas and nipples free. Next I am handed a smooth and slightly silky leopard print top which is sleeveless and has a deep cowl neck which exposes both the creamy white swell of my breasts as well as the bite marks on my breasts and neck; my nipples, erect in the cool air, are clearly visible through the thin silk. I feel them being teased by the cool air and stroked by the silk, and my knees almost buckle. Before I am allowed back in the car, Sir has the driver buckle a leather cuff around both ankles and both wrists, as well as a matching leather collar. I realize that I am now dressed as a plaything, a fuck toy, a whore and I am thrilled to realize just how excited it makes me. Randomly, as I sit back in the seat, knowing only that I am on my way to a club called the Manor, I think to myself that at least wearing a latex skirt means I won't spot the car upholstery as my bottom is now wet with lube.
The darkness shows that we are now outside the city and I cannot tell where we are, other than that we have passed through a couple of smaller villages. After around a half an hour we pull through the gates of a large old house and sweep up the drive, stopping directly in front of the large oak door.
As the driver opens the door and I swing my legs out I see his eyes are fixed on my tits, on my very erect and obvious nipples. My heels hit the old stone flags and Sir is beside me, he turns my face to kiss him and as he does so I feel the driver pull my arms behind me and clip my wrists together by joining the rings on the cuffs. I am surprised that the driver has taken this liberty, but after everything else today I don't object.
Sir slips his arm around my waist and guides me up the front steps as I hear the car driving away, presumably to be parked. The door is old, heavy and solid in the way that only seems to exist on really old English houses; it's painted a deep gloss blue and swings open as we approach.
"Good evening Sir, Ma'am." The doorman says, completely unfazed by my wrists being tied behind my back, "Would you like to go through to the drawing room Sir? There are several members there."
"Thank you, we will. Could you bring me a large Lagavulin, no ice please, and the young lady will have a glass of dry white wine, preferably a Chablis, Premier Cru of course."
Sir guides me through the opulent house, the lighting at a low level, the furniture all clearly antique, leather and oak. At the same time, in contrast, there is electronic trance music playing at a low volume so that it doesn't prevent conversation. Sir pushes open the door to what is apparently the drawing room and there are around twenty well-dressed and seemingly well-off men and women aged from their twenties to old age, sitting and standing around chatting. There are a similar number of companions, mainly younger, in various states of dress, sitting on laps, kneeling between legs, or fixed to frames. As we enter the conversations dip momentarily as Sir is greeted by everyone; two men and an older woman come over to us, the woman compliments Sir on having me on his arm. Sir explains that he only met me this afternoon, that he had found me by the riverbank and persuaded me to sell myself to him. Whilst I stand quietly beside him, I can tell that I am expected not to contribute to the conversation. He goes on to explain to his companion how despite appearances I am male, how he had me give a blowjob to the waiter at the restaurant and that since this evening I was an experienced prostitute.
"How marvelous!" the lady exclaims. "I'll have to borrow her later and I'm sure Charles would love to shag her, wouldn't you Charles?" She's turning to one of her companions who had come over with her: they are both about 50, well dressed. She is in a deep red evening dress and he is in an exquisitely cut navy blue suit.
"I would love to, Jo. If she is any good I might buy her for us to use next weekend."
"That assumes I won't be claiming her from now on." Sir smiled.
"Of course." Charles demurs.
Our drinks arrive, carried by a waitress who was wearing only the most exquisite lingerie and heels. She is stunning and around twenty years old, and tall.
Sir takes our drinks, lifts his in a silent toast to the evening, then raises mine to my lips so that I can enjoy the wine. He takes a seat in a large leather armchair, and pulls me on to his lap, Charles and Jo sit opposite us and as they chat to Sir, I gather that the young lady who is fixed to a frame at the back of the room is theirs, as is the pretty young thing kneeling between us, who occasionally has her head either under Jo's skirt or buried in Charles' lap. Sir almost absentmindedly runs the zip of my silk top down my back: I realise that it goes from neck to waist as I feel the top drop away from my back, and down to my bound wrists. He quickly unclips my wrists and lets the light silk drop to the sofa as he motions me to stand. He lifts my arms over my head and clips them to a bar hanging from the ceiling beside us.
"So compliant, isn't she?" he says to our companions
"Very. Do you mind if I play?" says Jo, standing and coming over to me. As she is close I realise that she is a strikingly beautiful woman. She kisses me deeply, and I relish the taste of our lipstick melding. I feel her brushing her hands over my breasts, tweaking my nipples, then running her lips down, kissing the virulent purple marks on my skin before taking my nipple into her mouth. Her mouth runs back up to the white swell of my breasts, where she adds another bite mark to my cleavage. I try not to scream.
Charles is behind me. He is running his hands over my arse. Sir comes over to me, he proffers my drink.
"You might need this."
I take a long drink of the dry wine as I feel Jo add another bite mark, this time to the side of my breast. Sir sits back in his chair, settling my glass on the low table, savouring his malt whisky and the way his companions are enjoying me, allowing their pretty thing to suck his cock. I scream as Jo ads a toothed clip to each nipple, biting into my skin, small trails of blood leaking from the teeth. Charles rolls the latex skirt down my legs and throws it to the chair to join my blouse. He deftly attaches a spreader between my ankles, and I feel his fingers opening my arse. Jo is kissing me again. Again those exquisite lips as I feel Charles's cock (I assume it's his) entering me from behind. Jo squeezes me to her, her own breasts brushing against the clips on mine causing pain as she kisses me. Charles is rhythmically sliding into my welcoming and already wide-open arse. I feel Jo's fingers exploring the folds of skin where she expects to find my cock, she looks at me again, slightly quizzically, before she kisses me again, devouring my mouth, invading it with her tongue. Charles is increasing the speed of his thrusts and as I feel him tense and pump his seed into me. Sir lifts his glass and smiles at me.
Jo separates herself slightly from me, touches my lips with her finger, them quickly removes the clips from my breasts. The pain as the blood returns is excruciating, but it is clear she intends me not to make a sound. Not for the first time today I am thankful for waterproof mascara as tears run down my face and splash on to the obvious teeth marks on my tits. Charles has pulled out of me and he gives my arse a loud slap as he smiles at me. He and Jo then sit down again and start to chat again to Sir.
Sir again raises my glass to my lips, gently kisses me. then cupping my breast with one hand says "Be beautiful for me." before walking behind me. I feel the flogger before I see or hear it, repeatedly caressing and colouring my entire back and arse a rosy red. I don't know if I am screaming or dreaming as I float into subspace; it could have been minutes or hours as Sir raises the glass to my lips again.
"Well done, my dear... you are not quite yet finished this evening though."
Sir unclips my ankles from the spreader bar and my wrists from above me and clips my wrists together in front of me. He then leads me through to an area where the music is much louder and the lights are pulsing. There are more people here, some dancing, some fucking. The pulsing lights show the contrast between the black of my lingerie, the white of my skin, and the marks on my flesh. Sir unclips my wrists and propels me into the crowd.
"Enjoy her!" I hear him say as I feel hands pulling me in. We are dancing to the techno trance as I feel hands on my body. My own hands feel cocks and breasts. I feel my wrists clipped behind me again as I am propelled to one of the soft platforms and leant onto it. There is a large cock at my lips, which I open to accommodate the warm flesh. I feel the first cock penetrating my arse and deposit its load inside me to mix with that of Charles. Then the second... and more. My own orgasms go unnoticed, and my own watery emmision, what there is of it, simply mixes with that of others.
The night is drawing to a close as Sir leads me back to the car. I only wear the bra, suspender belt, stockings, heels and leather cuffs. I am no longer embarrassed by the driver's looks. I am proud of the marks on my skin and the sperm running down my legs and covering my body, mostly dried now. Sir sits in the back seat, the driver lays me across his lap. I notice his hands stray as he lays me down. I don't mind. There is a crack of light in the sky as the car pulls up outside Sir's house. I willingly offer to give the driver a tip and enjoy drinking his sperm to thank him for carrying me into the house and laying me in the soft guest bed. I am fast asleep before the day truly wakes.
The sun is high in the sky when the curtains are drawn, the light falling across the covers. Sir has brought me a cup of tea, a glass of orange juice and a couple of ibuprofen.
"I thought you might be able to use these."
I thank him, reach for my handbag and sitting up I add my hormones to the tablets before swallowing them down with the orange juice. I stretch and as the cover drops away I am reminded of yesterday's events by the clear bite marks over my pale skin, also the very small traces of blood still around my nipples and the crusting in my hair as I go to run my fingers through it, and the plug which has been replaced in my arse.
"You will find everything you need to wash in the bathroom and I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of checking your dress sizes so you will find some clean clothes there too. I'll see you downstairs in about 45mins?"
"Thank you, of course Sir, and thank you for yesterday, Sir."
He lightly kisses me on the lips, tracing his fingertips across the marks and my nipples and leaves me.
The sumptuous bathroom allows me to luxuriate. First I clean myself inside using the thoughtfully provided douche with, I notice, a lubricated and scented bottle to finish, then in a shower. I wash what is left of the seed from the countless men from my skin and my hair. When I feel clean I survey the damage in the full length mirror. My carefully glued tuck is undone which at least has allowed me to clean my skin thoroughly. My breasts, of which I am so proud, have at least six sets of teeth marks on them and my neck is marked several times. I wrap a soft towel around my breasts and sit at the vanity to dry my hair.
I look through the clothes that have been provided for me. There is a beautiful set of black Chantelle Lingerie, which must have cost well over £100, along with a pink silk blouse which I can tell will be almost transparent, an olive-green pencil skirt with a statement gold zip running up the back, which will clearly accentuate the curve of my arse. There is some jewellery, which I can tell is not costume, as well.
I carefully do my makeup, light to match the style of the clothes, but with smoky eyes to match the colour of the lingerie. After ensuring that I am well lubricated I insert the now clean plug in my arse. I notice that although it is easily twice the size of my normal jewelled plug it now slips in easily. Then I see that there is also superglue, so I carefully redo my tuck again hiding away the cock that I wish was gone, glued behind folds of skin left by the removal of my balls. I pull up the knickers that I am slightly surprised to see have been included, before clipping on the bra and suspender belt. The bra covers more than the shelf that I was wearing last night, but still does more to frame and present my breasts than to cover them, with only a half cup and light lace covering my nipples. I roll up the very sheer seamed stockings and, slipping the six straps through my knickers, I clip them to the belt. I lower the zip on the skirt far enough to slide it up over my arse, before pulling it up and closed, then I slip on the blouse, which wraps across my breasts and is fixed by a single pearl button. I slip my feet into very high nude coloured court shoes, then slip on the jewellery, a necklace, earrings, and bracelet. I notice a gold anklet, which I clip onto my right ankle, understanding as I do so why it's there.
Looking into the mirror before I head downstairs I see an elegantly and expensively dressed woman, I hope beautiful, but clearly one who is sexual, the black lace of my bra easily seen as are the marks on my skin as the blouse is, as I expected, more or less transparent and almost the same colour as my skin. A quick spritz of perfume, Black Opium, and I'm ready.
I am greeted at the bottom of the stairs by the man who only yesterday lunchtime was a complete stranger; he is smiling and holds out his hand to me.
"My dear you look simply divine. Perfect." And with that he guides me into a large conservatory on the back of the house, flooded with light. There is a large table, laid with a mouth-watering brunch. Already seated the table are Jennifer and Mike whom we met at the restaurant last night. Mike is wearing a crisp pale blue shirt, and Jennifer is wearing a closely cut pale cream silk dress, high necked but sleeveless. They both stand to greet me. Jennifer comes over to me and after a kiss on my cheek runs her fingertips over the marks on my pale skin, so obvious through this pale pink blouse.
"How wonderful to see you again today. We have been told all about your adventures from last night: it does sound like you had a wonderful time."
"Yes indeed," joins in Mike "I did say yesterday that you were looking like a tart and it sounds like you are spectacularly successful. Tell me, do you still have sperm running out of you or are you now empty?"
"Oh Mike!" Interjects Jennifer, "Let the poor girl have something to eat first."
"Thank you... Mistress? Jennifer?"
"Oh, that's alright, you can just call me Ma'am."
I am sat opposite Mike and next to Sir, who serves me a delicious plate of smoked salmon, avocado and fruit, with juices and a cup of Earl Grey tea. We enjoy a wonderful meal, and the conversation flows around me. I gather that Sir no longer works, although he has multiple business interests, and that Mike is a property developer. Jennifer is apparently a leadership consultant. As we finish our food a young girl, probably around 20, comes and clears away the dishes, Apparently Mike has a development that he'd like to take us to: there is a show flat just completed that he is excited about.
Mike has a new Range Rover parked out the front of the house and we all get in to that. Sir joins Mike in the front of the car, and Jennifer sits next to me.
"You don't mind if I make some changes to your toy, do you?" Jennifer asks Sir.
"No of course not, do feel free." Sir answers.
Jennifer turns to me "You do look quite delightful, stephanie, but as lovely as that bra is I think you should take it off."
"Yes Ma'am." I reach behind my back and quickly unhook the straps, then undoing the one pearl button I shrug the blouse to my waist, remove my bra and hand it to her. I go to put my blouse back on.
"Not just yet dear."
I am thankful for the darkened glass in the car as she licks her fingertip then runs it over my nipples until they are both as hard as bullets. I lay my head back as I feel her lips on each breast in turn, sucking and engorging my tits, leaving my nipples reddened from her lipstick. She looks me in the eye as she then attaches a small silver clamp to each one, joined by a thin sliver chain.
"Now you can put your blouse back on."
My mind is whirling, both because I am extremely turned on, and because I am acutely aware that the transparency of my blouse means that the nipple clamps and chain are clear to see as are my now obviously rouged nipples.
"That's better. You are a pretty thing, but we do want to make sure that others can see that you are a whore, don't we dear?"
" I completely agree Jenn, that looks perfect." Sir answers for me
"Oh by the way, up to you, Jenn, but I did lay out some knickers for her to wear, probably not needed at the moment, what do you think?"
"Oh, no absolutely not. Take them off, stephanie. I'll keep them in my bag though, we may want her to put them back on later to avoid spotting her skirt."
As Jennifer is talking I lift my bottom, unzip the pencil skirt and pull it up, then slide my knickers down to my knees, before I feel them drop to my ankles. I bend down and drop them into Jennifer's waiting hand before I replace and zip up my skirt. Briefly at brunch I had felt myself a companion to this powerful trio; now again I am feeling owned, a piece of their property and it makes me incredibly hot.
"I like the anklet you gave her, and I'm so pleased to see she put it on the correct ankle." Jennifer says to Sir, then turning to me, "You do understand the significance of it being on your right ankle, don't you dear?"
"Yes Ma'am, it shows I am available, Ma'am."
"Oh yes, certainly it means that, stephanie, but it has ancient significance too, from the days of ancient Egypt, as decreed by the worshipers of Baal: all prostitutes wear an anklet on their right ankle so that others know who or what they are, and that does seem rather fitting, doesn't it, stephanie?"
"After all, you most certainly are available and since last night you are most definitely a prostitute, dear."
I am pleased that this large Range Rover with its large seats has such a smooth ride, as every bump is sending a jolt through my clamped nipples. I can see through the windows that we are heading out towards the airport, close to Stourbridge. Shortly I realise that we are now going through the edges of the big tech park at King's Hedges. I sense, through the pain in my nipples as much as anywhere else, that the road surface has changed, we pull up beside what looks like an old industrial building close to the Milton Country Park, right next to the lakes here. Mike is talking animatedly with Sir about how he had found this place and how he knew how perfect it was. I can see that there are still some piles of material and rubbish around, but clearly this is going to be an incredibly expensive place, perfect for the guys running the tech businesses, and anyone that wants to be close to Cambridge yet utterly private. For some reason that realisation sends a shiver up my spine. As we get out of the car I see there are already two other cars here. Mike is explaining that he has arranged to meet both the architect and the contractor here today. Jennifer clearly senses my hesitation and I feel her hand in the small of my back propelling me towards the door.