Working on writing a new part to this fantasy..It’s been goi..

Working on writing a new part to this fantasy..

It’s been going for I don’t know how long, feels like hours. My restrained body is beaten and sore, I’m shaking with the need for release and my dripping pussy is hot and pulsing. “You want to cum, don’t you cum slut?” Gagged, I nod my head, not that it’s necessary, I smell of desperation. “Read and sign”. A piece of paper is thrust in front of my face and I struggle to focus on something outside the overwhelming sensations in my body. What I assume is a pen gets pushed into my hand, both hands tied in front of me. “You understand? 24 hours of servitude?” I nod and scribble a signature best I can.

His hard, hot cock thrusts into me and I forget the unease of what I may have just agreed to as intense orgasm washes through me. He pulls out and cums across my stomach, using his hand to then spread his seed across my tits, before giving them a final slap. He undoes my gag and instructs me to clean his hand, I hungrily lick up what’s left of his cum before he pushes me on to my knees. As the good cum slut he’s made me, I take him gently in my mouth to lick him clean, tenderly sucking him into the back of my throat.

My body is shaking. I feel filthy and ruined. Where is the strong woman I thought I was? A sense of shame hits me but is quickly forgotten as he issues the next instruction and I can’t help but obey. “Rest, sleep - you’ll need it” I feel a mix of fear and excitement rush through me as I climb the steps up from the basement. I collapse into bed, the only piece of furniture in this small room which adjoins the main house. I feel the cum drying across my body and wonder what tomorrow will bring.

I wake from a deep sleep, an orgasm induced c0ma of sorts. Something has dragged me into consciousness and it takes a moment for me to make sense. He's stood over me, he's pulled back the covers of my bed and is looking down at my exposed naked body. I feel vulnerable with him fully dressed and above me. '"Up" he says, and I obey, remembering that today, he has my agreement for 24 hours of servitude - whatever that might mean. He's holding things, and I haven't quite worked out what, when he instructs "bend over and spread your legs". I turn and obey, exposing my ass and pussy to him. I gasp, something cold slides into my asshole, and between my legs I see a furry tail. "Stand, dress" he says and he leaves. There's nothing but a black suspender belt, fishnets and stilettos; I obey and then follow him down to the basement, already feeling off-balance with the heels and the anticipation. I feel the tail swishing against my legs as I move and the gravity pulling on the butt plug, every step down the stairs an intense sensation.

The basement has varying 'furniture'; metal cage in one corner, a large bench, St Andrews Cross, and examination table. Chains hang from the ceiling along with a swing. The walls are covered in tools. Anal beads, hooks and plugs. Gags, whips, canes, floggers and restraints. Clamps. Dildos. What my eyes are immediately drawn to and immediately fills my stomach with anxious butterflies is since last night, 5 leather armchairs have arrived, along with a table that has wine glasses and a decanter of wine on it. There is one undeniable, irrefutable meaning to those chairs. My thoughts run fast in a scramble, who is going to be sitting there? Men? Women? A mix? What will they be doing? Are they an audience? Are they part of the service I have already agreed to? What is it that I WANT the chairs to mean? Could I handle so much all at once? How would it even work? If they're not an audience, am I the only one serving? I feel a new level of nervousness and excitement.

He's sitting in one of the armchairs, reading a book. I stand silent, watching and waiting as he turns a page ignoring me. He marks his page and puts the book down, finally meeting my nervous gaze. "Kneel" he tells me and I do, already enjoying taking the weight off my feet and feeling the shifting of the butt plug as I move. "Today, you will serve for others as you do for me" he starts, and the anxious excitement grows. "You will speak only when spoken to, you will do as you are told. 24 hours of servitude is what you have agreed to, and that is what you will do. Nod if you understand?" I nod and he continues, "our guests will arrive shortly, you will serve their drinks on a tray, you will then stand for inspection. Then you will serve". He checks his watch and picks his book back up. I lower my gaze, kneeling before him, adrenaline coursing through me. I can feel the dampness of my pussy against my legs along with the softness of the tail, the mix of desire and anticipation outweighing the fear of not knowing what's to come, p0werless.

I have no idea how long it's been. I've counted the sound of pages turning and it's been 16, maybe an hour has passed? My mind has been spinning. 5 people to serve. Some sort of audience for an inspection, what does that entail? And then 5 people to serve... What will be demanded of me? If it's 5 men, how can I serve them all at once? I have signed an agreement to servitude so that's what I must do, and I cannot disappoint my master. Will I be serving all 5 for a full 24 hours? Does the hour or so of day since I woke count as part of my service?

I hear heavy footsteps on the basement stairs and flinch at the sudden sound in what has been a still, silent space, lost in thought. They sound like the weighty footsteps of men, certainly not heels like my own. The likelihood that I alone am serving seems increasingly indisputable. I keep my gaze low and I know I must, despite my desperation to look up and see who it is that will take control over me. I hear the book close and my master standing to greet the guests. "Serve" he tells me, and I stand, struggling to keep balance in the stilettos, my legs a little numb from so long kneeling. I hear men talking and feel eyes watching me, practically naked - I have never felt so exposed and bare. 

I move over to the table, where there is a silver tray set with the wine glasses and the decanter of red wine. With every step I feel the movement of the buttplug and I feel my wet pussy starting to quiver. I pour the wine, trying to steady myself and not spill, self-conscious of every movement. I pick up the tray with both hands and finally I have reason to see the guests. 4 men, none of whom I recognise. A mix of ages, maybe 40's to mid-60's, well dressed, some slimmer, some thickset. My nipples are hard and erect and I can feel the wetness from my pussy run down my inner thigh and my almost overwhelming arousal at the thought of what these men will do to me…