Chapter 2

I guess that the shock registered on my face. I was the prize for the draw winner when all I wanted to do was go to bed!

Someone handed me an empty biscuit tin and asked me to pick out a piece of paper. I looked inside and saw what I guess were fifteen pieces of white paper, all neatly folded.

“Those contain all our names,” I was informed. “Whichever one you pick out will be the winner and get you to himself all night.” He then paused before adding, “Well, not quite all night, just the hours that are left of it.”

I tried explaining that I would be much more fun the next day if I slept on my own. No one, however, wanted to hear me whining, so I knew I had to pick out a piece of paper.

I took the tin and decided to shake it up before asking one of the lads to hold it while I closed my eyes and felt for the winner.

I could hear some saying things like “Please” or “Me” as I lifted the piece of paper out.

I was, of course, hoping that it would be the one whom I fancied. It wasn’t! It never is!

I announced the name “Ian,” and one of the guys let out a whoop of joy.

Ian was quite small and rather dull, or maybe I should say he was not the most dashing hunk I have ever come across. He was twenty and came from Devon, but although he was small, he was very muscular and regularly worked out in the Gym.

He came and took my hand, saying, “Shall we?” as he led me to the bedroom.

Some of the others called out like, “Lucky so and so.”

Once we were in the bedroom, he closed and locked the door before turning to me and saying, “You are so beautiful.”

I guess he must have been short-sighted.

Ian was a real gentleman, asking my permission before doing anything to me. It’s good to be treated like a lady occasionally.

Firstly, he asked if he could remove my clothes. I could hardly refuse. He started with my top by unbuttoning my blouse and gently pulling it off my shoulders and down my arms. I remembered it had buttons on the cuffs, which meant it stuck to my hands, so he had to undo them to take it off. He then popped my bra, which fell from my chest, revealing my small breasts, which I instinctively covered with my arms. Ian said nothing as he undid the clip on my skirt, pulled the zip down, and let it fall off me.

I felt his hands down the back of my knickers as he gave my bottom a small pinch before slipping my knickers slowly down my legs. I must say that I found the slow way he did that such a turn on, even despite my tiredness. He turned me around and asked me to place my arms by my side. I did so, trying to be a bit coy at the same time.

He responded, “Wow!” Then asked, “Why do you enjoy everything that we do to you?”

I was not sure how to answer that question. To be honest, years later, I still find it difficult to know why I enjoy a good dose of pain and humiliation.

I replied honestly, “I am not sure; I just guess that I do.”

He led me to the bed, and I sat down on it. “No!” He said, “I want you to kneel beside it so I can smack you.”

I obediently did so, raising my backside high so that he could get a good aim. I cannot remember how many smacks I received from Ian, but my bottom was red and sore when he had finished.

Ian then lifted me and placed me on the bed before lying next to me. He was still fully dressed, which made me feel (and always does) very vulnerable.

He commenced to kiss me from my feet to my face. He paid proper attention to the very moist area between my legs as well as my breasts.

Then he questioned, “Do you know what we have planned for you tomorrow?”

I didn’t, but I tried a bit of humour, “Not another strip club, I hope?”

“Oh no,” he replied, “I think we plan for you to stay here all day, but we are going to give you a bath.”

“Oh,” I said stupidly, “That will be a change from the shower.”

“Not that sort of bath,” he added, “It will be a smelly one.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued.

He explained, “There is only one bath in this house, and it’s a good size. We have all heard about how you like being degraded. A few of us have seen you in action. Since we arrived, we have been using that bath as our urinal. We also added the washing-up water after tea. We are hoping to put you into it tomorrow and give you a golden shower.”

I admit that I was a bit shocked at this. I wondered if what Ian said was true. If it were, could I go through with it? On the other hand, there was something strange in me that was vaguely excited at the prospect. Once again, I was not sure how to adequately cope with my feelings.

Ian brought me back to reality by saying, “You are gorgeous.” He continued, “I didn’t want to come here this weekend as I thought you would be some old fat slag. You know, the type who could not pull any other guys. When they told me you were pretty, I did not believe them. But man, you are fabulous.”

I cringe as I write the things he said. I would have said (and still do) that I was plain but not gorgeous!

He took his trousers off and asked me to give him a blow job. Being muscular, he held my head very tight, so tight I could hardly slide my mouth along his shaft. Eventually, he came and again kept me close so that his cum flowed into my mouth, causing me to gag.

Once he let me go, we both fell exhausted onto the bed, his cum freely flowing out of my mouth. Ian helped me get under the duvet, then removed his T-shirt and joined me.

“I know you need to get some sleep,” he said, “So I will let you, as you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. As long as I can lie here next to you, I will be happy tonight.”

He was most thoughtful, and I remember feeling him caressing me as I drifted off to sleep, still wondering if I would be able to go through with what was planned for me the next day.

At around 7 am, a pounding on the door woke me up. I could hear my name being called. Those outside were shouting, “You have had her for long enough; now it’s our turn.”

I also remember some asking where their breakfast was. Curiously, Ian produced a very flimsy, almost see-through dressing gown and asked me to put it on. I did so and tied it up at the front, though it didn’t do much to cover me.

Ian then opened the door, and I walked out to be greeted with whoops of delight by everyone there. I could also catch the wonderful smell of a cooked breakfast.

A couple of hands immediately grabbed me, and my arms were held tight behind my back. One of the quieter guys in the group stepped forward, holding what we call in the UK a Cumberland sausage. It was not your standard size one. It was the size of a frankfurter hot dog sausage.

Someone undid my dressing gown, and it fell open, revealing my breasts and my pussy. The guy with the sausage asked if I had ever taken one of these before. Well, at nineteen, I had to answer “No.”

He then proceeded to rub it between my breasts and then across them and around the nipples. It was warm but not hot. As most girls will tell you, anything that rubs the nipples tends to arouse them, so of course, they soon became firm and erect.

“Look,” one of them said, “She likes it.”

The statement caused much merriment. The sausage was then carefully pulled down to my belly button and moved around that in small circles. I then had to spread my legs fully aware what was going to happen.

I did so, and at the same time, I had to lean back. I could feel the sausage used to stimulate my clit, and I knew that this was producing juices in my most intimate area. Then I could feel its rough skin pushed into my vagina.

Up and down, he pushed it, going faster each time.

I moaned with pleasure, and that made a few of the lads feel for my tits and ‘play’ with them. Others who were too slow rubbed or patted my backside, and one more adventurous one I could feel inserting a finger up my rectum.