Nothing Less Page 2

  It was like being a living fashion doll. I slept with the phone by my pillow, so he could have me all night long, any time he wanted. If I didn’t get it by the first ring, there’d be punishment. Extra time in nipple clamps. Longer with the butt clamp. Or maybe he’d make me pose by the window, late at night. Naked, my tits pressed to the glass. Once I had to walk naked to the mailbox at two a.m. And I had to keep my hands at my sides, and I couldn’t run.

  “You can say no, Michelle,” he told me, repeating the words he always says when he wants me to do something new, “but if you do, our relationship is over.”

  Obviously, I said yes. I don’t think anyone saw, although the twelve-year old kid across the street has been looking at me funny ever since. The scariest thing was the time he made me lock the handcuffs on myself, connecting my wrists to my headboard while I lay flat on my back. I had to put the key on the dresser ahead of time, which meant there was no way to let myself out. My only hope to keep from being discovered by my folks in the morning was for him to come and get me.

  I’d left my window open in advance, and believe me, I had my eyes glued to it the whole night. I had nothing on but silk panties, and if any burglar had happened to come in, he’d have had a field day with me. Not only was I chained, but I had a gag on, too, a leather one Joey had picked out for me. If someone were to come in to rape me, in other words, there wasn’t a thing I could do.

  My cunt spasmed the whole time, without even being touched. It was so delicious and terrifying, I thought I would melt into the mattress. There was a pool of my juices beneath me, staining the sheets by the time he got there. It was after four, and I was convinced he’d leave me for my father to find and disown the next morning.

  “Glad to see me?” he grinned, popping his arrogant head through my curtains.

  My eyes shot daggers. But at the same time I was so happy to see him, I wanted to cry. He was my master, he really owned me now. Without uncuffing me or removing the gag, he proceeded to enter me. I spread my legs obediently, welcoming him home. He was only halfway in when I began to climax. He was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of.

  After fucking me, he twisted me over and treated me to my first spanking, me still in the cuffs and gag. He was firm but loving and he made me come another time, just from the sensation of his hand imprinting itself again and again on my twitching, utterly helpless buttocks.

  “Maybe I’ll just leave you like this,” he teased as he laid beside me afterwards, his hands tucked behind his head, his long legs crossed, still wearing his pants. I’ve yet to see him naked, which is one of my pet peeves. So far, to use me, all he ever does is open his fly. He claims it’s to teach me humility, so I can feel more like a slave with him, but it still irks me.

  He finally took off the gag so I could beg him to let me go free. I had to promise to be a good girl and to always obey him. This last one is tricky, on account of his vivid imagination and the things he thinks up for me. When we went to the mall last week, he had me get a belly button ring and an ankle chain. I had to sit in one of those plastic seats in front of everyone and stick out my bare foot so he could clasp it round me. The symbolism was heavy and it made me very hot and bothered. So, too the belly button ring. I had to lay there, on my back, my stomach totally vulnerable. The next thing he wants to do is a tattoo, either on my butt or just above my cunt lips. He also wants to shave me, even though I’m not too keen on that.

  The one thing I am definitely going to have to get used to is being fucked by other guys. This is a big thing with Joey. At first I thought he’d be too jealous, but apparently being able to hand me around like a toy prize is a big turn-on for him. I’ve already had to satisfy his best friend and roommate Taz and a few others to boot.

  The first time with Taz happened in the boys’ apartment. Joey, the Taz Man and I were drinking beers late on a Friday night. I was wearing a short suede skirt, dark stockings and a white blouse, tied at the midriff. Joey was all over me, making a point of feeling me up in front of his buddy. I was embarrassed by it, but the boys were both pretty turned on. Then the three of us started playing this game, sort of like truth or dare. Everybody draws cards and the winner gets to dare one of the two losers to do something to the other.

  The part I didn’t catch onto right away is that the boys were cheating. Which meant every turn I was being called on to do something to one of them. Taz won the first round, and he told me I had to French kiss Joey in front of him. Joey won next time, and he promptly upped the stakes by telling me I had to suckle Taz’s nipples for five minutes each. All too eagerly, he stripped his shirt off in anticipation.

  I had a slight buzz on and though I was aroused, I pleaded with my eyes not to have to go through with it.

  “Now, Mick,” he said gruffly, slapping my suede-covered ass hard in front of his friend.

  Chastened and humiliated, feeling like a punished child, I went to Taz, bending my head to the level of his tits. I dabbed my tongue shyly, but when I found out good he tasted, I greedily sucked him for all I was worth.

  It was all doubly hot because I had no choice. Joey had swatted me soundly and sent me over and I had to do what I was told. No matter what. Taz’s nipples began to swell under my tongue. By the time Joey told me to stop, little moans were coming from the man.

  “Down,” snapped Joey, pointing to a place at his feet where I was to sit. Curling up like a cat, my oversexed body barely contained in my clothes, I waited. I could see the pain on Taz’s face as he looked at me, sexy and kitten-like in total subservience to his roommate. It was clear he wanted me for himself, bad.

  Taz took the next round, and you could tell he’d been ready. “I want you to kiss Joey’s arse,” he said solemnly, his eyes lit like a demon’s.

  Joey chuckled. “You’re catching on, bro.”

  I had no problem with the act. Joey made me do it to him from time to time himself. Nothing keeps a girl humble like a little groveling at her master’s ass so she can worship him with her tongue and lips. The thing was, I’d never done it for an audience. What could Taz think of me after this? Would he ever accept me as an equal again?

  I had to laugh over that. As if I was an equal!

  Joey stood up and dropped his drawers. I meekly took my place on my knees behind him. At first I employed a series of gentle, feminine kisses, but as the fever increased, I found myself licking his warm, luscious skin. Finally, I worked my tongue into the heavenly little crevice between his butt cheeks.

  “Damn,” Taz muttered, guzzling another beer. “This is un-fucking believable.”

  “Up for another round?” Joey winked.

  As usual, I had to fold my cards first. The two went neck and neck, but Joey prevailed in the end. His dare was predictable, though hardly unwelcome on my part.

  “Mick,” he grinned, patting my head like a puppy, “how about you go on over and show Taz what that mouth of yours is so famous for?”

  I could barely move, I felt so weak. I’d just been ordered by my boyfriend to perform oral sex on another guy while he watched. I could say no, of course, saving my reputation, but then I’d have to say goodbye to Joey forever. That was more than I could bear. Standing was too hard, so I decided to crawl. Taz was breathing heavily by the time I got there. I worked on his zipper, finally getting him free.

  He popped out, already hard. Licking my lips, I contemplated my next move. A little kiss to begin, maybe? Or a lick with my tongue on the underside, maybe?

  “Take him deep, Mick,” said Joey, promptly ending my suspense. “Let him fuck your mouth.”

  Fuck my mouth he’d said. Like it was a cunt. I was creaming in my panties like crazy. Parting my pouty, sex slacked lips, I moved in, close enough to breathe on him.

  “Take him now, Michelle,” Joey said bluntly, leaving me no option.

  I did as I was told, slurping down the enormous snake-like organ. Taz was salty and warm, and it felt so hot having a new guy between my lips.

  “If he comes, b
aby, you have to swallow.”

  Like I needed reminding.

  Anyway, I must have something on the ball because Taz was spurting down my throat in seconds flat. Like the good girl I strived to be, I took it all.

  “Michelle, why don’t you take off all your clothes and get us some more beers,” Joey said casually, as though the two things (my serving them nude) went together like ice cream and hot fudge.

  I stripped slowly, the way Joey had trained me to. With each article of clothes I removed, I made sure they knew what I had to offer and how it was theirs tonight, without conditions. Taz, who had never put his cock away, was hard again by the time I got to my panties. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

  The cold refrigerator air assaulted my bare, fevered flesh as I reached for the cans. Padding over the linoleum back out to the living room, I fetched them their brewskis.

  “We played another round while you were gone,” Joey informed me as I handed him his can. “It was a tie, so we each get a turn.”

  Gone now was even the pretense of fair play, I noted.

  Taz was actually drooling as I bent to give him his beer.

  “Hey, Michelle,” chimed Joey, his voice full of mischief. “This can’s awful cold. Could you warm it up for me?”

  We’d played this game before. What I had to do was hold the ice cold can between my tits till it was warm enough for him. The main point was not to give me frostbite but to let me know that no matter how desired I was for sex, I had other more menial uses as well. Thrusting the can between my quivering mounds, I wrapped them around it. Cold exploded over my hot flesh as I held it in place.

  “Oh, look, “ Joey exclaimed dramatically, obviously playing a new game. “Taz, I think you spilled some of your beer.”

  Taz grinned conspiratorially as he tipped the can onto the floor, letting it spill. “Did I?”

  “Yeah, and now Michelle will have to clean it up.”

  I looked at Joey hopefully. “Should I get a towel?”

  He was grinning ear to ear. “Nope.”

  My heart sank. I was going to have to lick it up. Getting down on all fours, I touched my tongue to the damp spot on the carpet. The taste of the beer mixed with that of dirty carpet fibers made me gag.

  “Bro, you got this bitch trained,” said Taz in obvious admiration.

  Joey extended his legs to put his feet on my back, crossing them like I was a footstool. “You know it, dude.”

  “So who gets to go next?”

  “You do.”

  I wanted to touch myself so bad it wasn’t funny. How much hotter could it get? I was naked on the floor, slurping up beer while my man used me as a footrest and talked to his roommate about how they were going to abuse me.

  “Cool,” said Taz. “Okay, Michelle, time to get up.”

  I stood, hands at my sides, all pretense of modesty gone.

  “Joey, I want to see you piss on Michelle.”

  “Only if you do it, too,” Joey replied without missing a beat.

  I nearly fainted. As much as I’d thought I was ready for anything, this caught me off guard.

  “Where can we do it, though, without fucking up the floor?”

  “Bathtub,” suggested my Joseph, ever the practical one.

  And so I was led into the bathroom and put into the tub and made to get on my knees.

  “Please, Joey,” I begged, “not on my face.”

  “Sorry, but that comes with the territory. Just keep your mouth closed and you’ll be okay. I promise I’ll wipe it off afterwards.”

  And so began my first odyssey into the world of golden showers. I was made to keep my legs apart and my breasts thrust outward. I wanted to close my eyes, but Joey said I had to watch them doing it. Joey went first. His pupils were dilated and he was so turned on it was hard for him to go at all. He had to strain to get his erection down enough for it to come out. It began with a trickle. Taking aim, he pointed right at my belly. “Hold your tits up for me,” he instructed.

  The spray hit me full on my left breast. It was warm and cloying against my skin. Moving to the right, he began to coat my skin. The smell was acrid in my nostrils, dirty, forbidden. Piss was running everywhere on me, down my belly, into my crack, down my legs. I felt like a whore, an animal.

  “Oh yeah,” he grunted like he was about to come. “That’s it baby.” I felt like a tree, territory being marked. And then Taz took his turn. He wanted my face and hair. I had to lie down on my back in the tub, my hair fanned out around me. I still couldn’t close my eyes, but I had my lips glued like crazy. He flopped his huge penis over the edge and laid it on me. His eyes were wild; I could really see him getting into this. Dominating me, literally pissing all over me. I began to taste it on my lips despite my best efforts. It was salty, bitter.

  Rivulets of the stuff ran beneath me to the drain. Now it was like a piss bath. Thanks to all the beer they’d been drinking, my beloved was ready for a second turn as soon as his roommate was done. Joey made me turn over on my stomach so he could get my back. I managed to keep my face out of the stuff, though it was plastered on my breasts and legs and belly as I lay on the ceramic. Meanwhile I could hear Taz guzzling more beer. The bastard was trying to make more urine.

  He had the last turn, and I was on my back again to receive him. This time he aimed right at my cunt, like he was scoring points in a video game. A steady stream assaulted my nether lips. Joey made me hold them apart so it would go inside me. When it hit my clit, I began to spasm. I was so ashamed, so degraded. They were making me come by pissing on me.

  “Enough,” said Joey at last. “Michelle, take a shower, then get back in the bedroom. We’ll be waiting.”

  Indeed they were, sporting the stiffest cocks I’d ever seen. The game forgotten, the two got down to business. I served them all night, giving each as many turns as they could stand. The next morning, I could hardly walk straight.

  Joey was over the moon with it and the next night I did his best friend Bo on the sofa while he sat in his recliner stroking himself. Next Saturday, Joey says he’s having a few more friends over so we can have even more fun. I’ve also seen him looking at some of the guys on campus, and I can tell his mind is hard at work. He told me once it’s a fantasy of his to see a girl fuck a stranger, and I am expecting any day now he’ll pick some total stranger up and order me to serve him sexually.

  He keeps joking about the tattoo I’ll get and how he’ll make me pay for it in trade, with my ass and cunt. Imagine having your body marked according to your man’s will and then having to take the cock of the man who does it for you. The thought makes me quite wet, which is why I’m so suited for this lifestyle.

  Next year after I graduate, Joey and I will get our own place and begin our lives for real. I’d even marry him, so long as it’s a BDSM service and a BDSM marriage. Can you picture it? Me naked, in my tattoo with a collar and some chains, my hair up with flowers, him holding my leash, all decked out in leather agreeing to all the things he’ll have to “do” to me? And me, promising to obey and serve?

  It’s heaven, pure heaven. And to think, it all started with one little lick.

  Chapter Two

  The Mercenary and the Lady

  Nora is going to get me killed one of these days.

  Every time I see her I get this clamping sensation in my groin. Part of it is lust. Nora is 22 years old, with a slim, classic, curvy chassis. With her jet-black hair, cocoa brown skin and eyes, she’s pure fantasy. Throw in the lips and the way she lays out by the pool all day in that black one piece, and you’ve got a recipe for an instant hard-on.

  The thing is, she’s married. To Raoul Vendras. For those of you a little slow on the uptake, that’s Raoul Vendras as in the Vendras Cartel, the two-hundred-billion-dollar-a-year drug empire that spans two continents and bankrolls governments in a half dozen countries.

  Is the picture getting clearer now? Mixed with incredible horniness, in other words, is a very healthy dose of fear. As lon
g as the second is stronger than the first, I’ll be all right.

  But let me explain my part in this a little better. Raoul Vendras and his younger brother Hector are having some troubles at the moment—big surprise—with a rival cartel. In the drug business that means gunplay. And nowadays you can’t overlook shoulder-launch-missiles or helicopter attacks either. People like Vendras, who kill for a living, hire people like me. I’m an expert in death. A soldier of fortune, a mercenary, or merc for short. I’m the kind of man who’s stared death in the face enough times to know it cold (pardon the pun) and who, for the right price will either save you from it or send it breathing down your neck like the cold, motherfucking black stallion that it is.

  Not that we ever call things by their right name in my business. When I worked with governments, ours and the other guys’, we called it intelligence, surgical strikes, preemptive re-organization. The words assassination, murder or coup d’etat never crossed anyone’s lips.

  Now I’m a freelancer. A security consultant. A protective advisor. Vendras has me on contract at the moment to beef up security at his mountaintop villa where he keeps his valuables. Like the vaults with 2.6 million in gold and jewels, along with a ton of raw coke, and eight automobiles, including a mint condition 1923 Stutz Bearcat.

  And then there’s Nora. Lovely anomaly that she is. The girl is a decade younger than her husband. She’s not just some bimbo model he acquired in Rio or TJ, though. Of course, she could be if she wanted, with that silky black hair cascading down her smooth back, and those luscious lips. And legs that go on forever and the perfect little waist. With tits that aren’t too big.

  The lips—did I mention the lips?

  Christ, I’ve had gorgeous women before, so what’s my problem? Whores, girlfriends, even slaves (I kid you not); I’ve had them all to the point of nausea. More than once I’ve even suffered pussy overload, where you actually look forward to going back to some fucking jungle or flea-bitten desert just for variety’s sake. And this isn’t just bragging, either. Sure, I have the physique—you’ve got to in this job—but I’m no Robert Redford, or whoever passes for Redford nowadays.