Chapter 2

It’s nearly eleven on a bright, warm Saturday morning. There are people out everywhere. There are guys washing cars and people on their way to the pool or on their way out to go shopping or wherever they normally go on Saturday. Every person we passed stopped what they were doing and stared at me.

The guys all stared in shock when they caught flashes of my breasts when my shirt gaped open, or my ass, of which far too much is on display with every step I take as I follow Tom to his car.

The women stared in shock, too. But they also exhibited a healthy display of well-deserved disgust. I don’t blame them. They can’t possibly know I’m walking around like this against my will. I don’t have to be able to read their minds to know what kind of a slut they think I am.

The place where Tom lives is a rather large apartment complex largely occupied by young singles and couples who are either living together or have only recently married and are just starting out. I imagine they see a lot of crazy stuff around here. I noticed more than a few extremely skimpy bikinis at the pool yesterday so it’s pretty obvious from the reactions of the people we passed that I’m exposing a whole hell of a lot of skin. All I can do, though, is blush, keep my head down so I can’t see their eyes and keep walking.

We walked to Tom’s car and struggled to get everyone inside. It was like a clown car the way the six of us squeezed into his small four passenger car. I found out the names of the last two of my tormentors when Tom said, “Harry, you’re the smallest. You sit in the middle and John and Steve can sit on either side of him. The bitch can stretch out across your laps.”

Rory is the largest of the five men. He’ll sit in the front passenger seat. But first he lifted the camera to his face and recorded the struggle as the three men squeezed into the back and pulled me in after them.

It’s impossibly cramped but they just laughed about it and arranged me in their laps with a great deal of gratuitous groping.

Even before the car doors were all closed, Harry had my shirt unbuttoned and pulled aside, baring my breasts to the camera and the many people walking around the parking lot. They all seemed to find this incredibly amusing. I’m horrified.

I have no idea where we’re going. I only know that wherever it is I’m going to hate it and I’m going to hate what happens to me when we get there. I slumped down a little in Harry’s lap to keep my head from bumping against the roof of the car. As we drove off, Harry’s hands were playing with my breasts and Steve and John both had their hands on my thighs. They immediately began pulling my legs farther apart, making it easier for Rory to get more humiliating footage of me being molested in public now.

Tom drove to an area of town where adult-oriented businesses seem to congregate. It isn’t an area I’ve ever visited before. He pulled into a parking lot in front of a run-down old place called The Camera Club. He got out and said, “Wait here. This shouldn’t take long.”

As soon as Tom was gone they pushed my legs even farther apart and played with my body even more cruelly. Each time I winced or cried out in pain they laughed at my reactions like a gang of cruel little boys torturing a small animal.

One of the men took one of my nipples into his mouth and after teasing it to hardness he suddenly bit down cruelly. I screamed and jumped and tried to pull away. They seemed to think that was hilarious.

When they were no longer amused by tormenting my breasts, Harry came up with a new form of torture. He seemed to be intent on picking me up by my pubic hair. He reached down and grabbed a large clump of my pubic hair in his fingers. That was painful enough. But then he got a good, firm grip and started slowly lifting.

I clamped my hands down on his wrist and held on, screaming in pain and begging him tearfully to stop.

The men all laughed and laughed. They’re thoroughly amused by my suffering and the power they have to inflict it on my helpless body. The sadist kept pulling, ignoring my ineffectual efforts to free myself for several more long moments. He finally lowered my ass back down and as he took his hand away they laughed again at the large number of blonde pubic hairs remaining in his fingers. They had been pulled out by the roots!

I’m crying loudly now and begging them to stop hurting me. Rory is filming it all and laughing along with the others at my pain and humiliation.

Tom finally came back out and his friends stopped tormenting me. I’m still crying loudly but they don’t even seem to be aware of it.

Tom leaned in the window and said, “Everyone out.”

I wiped my eyes with the shirt sleeves and cried out in desperation, “Why are you doing this to me?!”

Rory stood back with the camera, still filming as Tom reached into the backseat and pretty much just jerked me out of the car. He set me down on my feet beside the car with my only article of clothing still hanging open. I’m not very successfully trying to control my tears.

Tom turned me until my back was to his car. He put his finger under my chin, lifted my head and said, “You stupid cunt! You have to ask? We’re doing this shit to you because it’s fun. You’re a fucking tease. You led me on at that party last night and then when I wanted some of your sexy ass you suddenly had to go home. Well fuck you bitch! I suppose you got away with that shit all your fucking life. No more! You’re finally going to learn your lesson. You won’t be teasing anyone else. You won’t be sending anymore men home with blue balls. The next time a guy wants some of your ass you’re going to give him some. You fucking frigid bitch!”

“I’m not a tease!” I exclaimed incredulously. “I didn’t lead you on! I danced with you for Christ’s sake! Do you think every girl who dances with you is supposed to sleep with you?!”

Tom sneered at me and snarled, “You did a hell of a lot more than dance with me, bitch. You spent a couple hours telling me how lonely you are and how much you miss your husband. You waved your tits and your ass in my face. You made me think you wanted to get laid. Then you said ‘I have to go now’ after I wasted all fucking evening on you!”

I just shook my head in disbelief. It hadn’t been like that! I didn’t lead him on! In fact, I tried to get rid of him several times. He wouldn’t take a hint. All I could say was, “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t lead you on.”

For just a second or two there was a look of pure hatred on his face. It was a promise of future humiliations and it was a threat of violence. It terrified me. He loudly exclaimed, “Bullshit! You spent hours teasing me and then, once you had your fun you just wanted to go home!

“It’s time you learned your lesson, bitch. We’re going to educate you. If you get some guy hot for your sexy ass from now on, you’d best put out. You’d think that damned pussy of yours is solid fucking gold or something the way you guard it. It’s just pussy, bitch. It’s meant to be fucked.”

I stared at him in shock. It’s beginning to dawn on me that even aside from the fact that he likes to drug and rape women, this guy isn’t right in the head. He seemed to think that if a woman talks to him and then doesn’t have sex with him he can do anything he wants to her and she has it coming!

He grabbed my arm and started pulling me into the building he just came out of. I struggled to refasten the few buttons I’m allowed to button as he pulled me along.

As we walked he said it again. I heard the threat in his voice when he said, “Remember, bitch. It’s just pussy.”

He pulled me through the door and into the dimly lit lobby of The Camera Club. Pictures of nude and semi-nude women are everywhere I look. They cover the walls.

There are at least a dozen men standing around inside. They were moving around looking at the pictures on the walls until they all turned to look at me when I came in. As soon as they saw what I’m wearing, or nearly wearing, they became a lot more interested.

Tom smiled at them and pulled me along after him to an office in the back. He pulled me inside and shut the door. I found myself looking across a cluttered desk at a large black man in his mid to late fifties.

He looked up when we entered but his expression didn’t change. He isn’t surprised to see me and hardly seems to notice the way I’m dressed.

He looked me over for a moment and then in a gravelly, somewhat disinterested voice he said, “Not bad. Lose the shirt.”

I glanced fearfully at Tom. He just nodded.

I slowly unbuttoned the shirt he gave me to wear and let it fall open in front of me. It no longer covers me. But the black man snarled impatiently, “I said lose it, girl!”

He looked at Tom as if to ask him why he brought a moron into his place of business.

Tom smiled, shrugged and said, “She isn’t too bright, but she’s new at this. Don’t worry. She won’t be any trouble.”

Then he turned to me and asked in a threatening voice, “Will you, you stupid cunt?”

I looked down and shook my head. I’m embarrassed beyond words. But I’m also angry. However, I’m at least smart enough to know it’s not in my best interests to let him see the anger in my eyes.

I kept my eyes focused on the floor in front of me and shrugged the shirt down off of my shoulders. I stood there naked, holding it in my sweating hands.

Tom grabbed the shirt from me and ordered me to turn around slowly.

I obeyed instantly.

As I turned around for his amusement, the black man commented on my body. “She’s kind of cute. Her tits are too small and she doesn’t have much of an ass. She has a cute little cunt, though. She don’t look all wore out ... yet. Yeah, I guess she’ll do.”

When I had turned around in a complete circle, the black man got up and led me back out into the hallway. I’m still naked and very nervous about wandering around the building that way. I followed him into a small room containing racks of women’s clothing. He looked through some of it and pulled out several articles of clothing. He shoved them at me and told me to get dressed.

The two men stood there and watched as I put on the lacy underwear and then a pair of thigh high stockings with lacy tops which match the underwear. I put on the plaid skirt and plain white blouse he gave me. It feels nice to be fully clothed for the first time since yesterday evening. The outfit was completed with a pair of silly looking saddle shoes.

When I finished getting dressed they looked me over and apparently were satisfied with the effect. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t until I saw my reflection I realized they have dressed me like a catholic schoolgirl! I don’t care for the look but even so it still feels nice to be wearing clothes again. For however long it lasts I’m happy to be wearing just about any kind of costume. Even this, even someone else’s clothes!

The black man asked me, “Do you know what’s going to happen now?”

I shook my head. I don’t know. I wish to god I would never find out. I just want to leave. I know that whatever is going to happen I’m going to hate it.

He said, “You’re going back out front and mix with the customers for a few minutes. You better be nice to them, too. I ain’t kidding bitch. I got some other outfits and some really kinky studio sets that you’d hate a lot more than you’re going to hate this one so you better figure out how to paste a smile on your fuckin’ face. You mix with the customers and you smile and you make nice. And if someone gets fresh, well, that’s just too fucking bad. You might as well get used to it. As long as your pasty ass is in this building your body don’t belong to you. It belongs to me.

“Once you’ve warmed the suckers up a little I’m going to take you down the hall to one of the studios. You’re going to pose for them while they take lots and lots of pictures. You don’t give anybody any crap. You pose any fuckin’ way they ask you to pose.”

As I stood there listening to what I’m going to be forced to do here it’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. My chest feels constricted and my heart is beating almost painfully. My mind is telling me I can’t possibly do what he’s telling me I’m going to have to do. I’m not that kind of girl! I just can’t do that!

He must have been able to tell from the shocked and no doubt dazed look on my face that my mind is wandering. He snarled, “Hey! Wake up, bitch! Listen to me, damn it!”

I jumped, startled by his loud, cruel voice. I finally looked up and focused on what he’s saying.

“They get ten minutes. After ten minutes have passed a bell will ring. That’s the signal for you take off your blouse. You pose for ten more minutes and the bell will ring again. You take off your skirt. At the next bell you take off your bra, and then your panties. After that, you pose for twenty minutes in just your stockings. Any pose the perverts ask for, bitch. I better not get any complaints. Do you have any questions?”

I’m so scared now I’m shaking all over. In a quivering voice I asked the only question I could think of, the question which popped into my mind and is shouting out for an answer, an answer I know I’m not going to like. “What if they want to touch me?”

He smiled and said, “They can touch you. It’s included in the charge. They just can’t have sex with you. They have to pay extra for that.”

I shuddered in fear and revulsion. I covered my face with my hands and started crying again. Tom suddenly snatched me up by my hair and snarled, “That’s enough of that shit. It’s time to start practicing that smile you teased me with last night, bitch.”

Tom wiped my eyes with the shirt he’s carrying and we started out of the dressing room. “Wait!” I suddenly exclaimed. Another very important question had suddenly occurred to me.

“What happens to those pictures? Oh god. What if someone I know sees them. They could end up all over the internet!”

The black man smiled and said, “Just an occupational hazard, bitch. Shit happens. Now smile god damn it!”

I tried. I’m too afraid of these men not to try. I don’t have a mirror but I know it was more of a grimace than a smile.

It didn’t really satisfy them. The black man just glowered at me and muttered, “Fuckin’ amateurs! Keep working on it, you stupid cunt.”

He led me back out into the front room and pushed me into the center of the room. The dozen or so men who are milling around are still looking at what must be hundreds of 8x10 pictures of naked women on the wall. He got their attention and said, “Gentlemen, this is our newest model, Little Kim. This is her first time. She’s a cherry so to speak. Look her over. Talk to her. If you’re interested she’ll be modeling in a few minutes. Feel free to ask her any questions.”

He looked at me threateningly and added, “She’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

The men swarmed around me. At first they kept their hands to themselves. They look like a bunch of geeks, weirdoes and dirty old men. They range in age from early sixties to one pimple faced little guy who doesn’t look like he’s eighteen yet.

Many of the younger men look kind of nerdy. The older men struck me more as seedy. It occurred to me that coming to a place like this and paying money for the opportunity is probably the only way some of them ever got to see a naked woman. While I suppose that’s sad I don’t pity them. It’s me I feel sorry for.

One of the men, the one I assume from his appearance is probably the oldest, asked, “How old are you honey?”

“Twenty-one,” I answered in a trembling voice that wasn’t much louder than a whisper.

“You sound scared,” one of them said. “Are you scared?”

I shrugged and said, “It’s my first time. I’m pretty nervous.”

Nervous my ass! I’m terrified!

One of them spotted my wedding ring and asked, “Does your husband know that you’re doing this?”

I blushed even more deeply. Even the mention of my husband under these circumstances made me more uncomfortable. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Just being reminded of Brian was making it harder to hold back the tears.

One of them asked, “Are you a prostitute?”

I quickly exclaimed, “No!”

But I moaned quietly when it occurred to me I’m about to become one.

He wasn’t satisfied with my response. He cocked an eyebrow to indicate his skepticism and asked, “Then what are you doing here? Do you like taking your clothes off in front of guys you don’t know?”

I didn’t know what to say to him. I looked at Tom. He and his four friends are standing nearby, watching, listening and enjoying my discomfort. I’m not sure what I can say to these men without upsetting Tom.

Tom ended my mental turmoil. He explained, “I brought her here to teach her a lesson for being such a god damn tease. I hate a fucking cock teaser. She needs to learn a lesson.”

It’s plain to see from the expressions on the faces of the men around me they all seem to think that’s an admirable goal.

After Tom explained that I’m not exactly here of my own free will a few of them reached out and smoothed a hand over my ass or cupped my breast to see my reaction. It must have been obvious I hate what I’m being forced to allow them to do to me. But that didn’t bother them in the least. In fact, they seem to love it that I don’t want to do this.

Several more disreputable looking males came in as I stood surrounded by the geeks, submitting to their embarrassing questions and crawling hands. After pausing to look me over, they each crossed the room and spoke quietly to the black guy who’s watching from behind a counter now.

I watched out of the corner of my eye. After each new customer spoke to him briefly they gave him money. Not that it matters, but I can’t help wondering how much they’re being charged just to see me naked and take pictures of me, embarrassing sexual photographs like the obscene pictures covering the walls of this room.

When he was satisfied there were enough men waiting for the show to start he came out from behind the counter and said, “Okay, gentleman. The session is about to start. Have you all been here before? Do you all know the rules?”

Everyone seemed to nod or mutter something quietly under their breath. Satisfied, he came over and took my arm. As he led me back down the dark hallway he said, “Okay, gents. Please follow me.”

With a firm, painful grip on my upper arm he pulled me back down the dark hallway to a large room. In the far-right corner of what he calls a studio is a set which resembles a small classroom. In the opposite corner is a set made up to look like a small bedroom. Centered between them is a small stage, raised about a foot off the floor with a nasty looking fake fur rug in the middle of it.

I was led across the room and gently shoved in the direction of the classroom set. The black guy, who I guess is the owner of this fine establishment, stepped back out of the way and said, “Okay, gentlemen. You know the rules. When the bell rings your time has begun.”

I looked around nervously, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I noticed that the rear wall of the studio doesn’t go all the way to the ceiling. I also noticed Rory standing on something and looking down into the room over the top of the back wall. He already has that damn movie camera up to his face and is filming.

Christ! It’s horrible beyond my ability to describe that I have to do every disgusting thing these perverts are about to make me do in this room which smells of stale sex. But those bastards who brought me here are going to make another movie of it, another dirty movie to hold over my head. How can so many men be so cruel?!

The other four men, Tom, Harry, John and Steve, are standing out of the way in the back of the room, grinning evilly and watching in eager anticipation of the show I’m about to be forced to put on. It’s obvious they’re amused. It’s also obvious they’re getting aroused. The show hasn’t started yet. It can only be my obvious distress that’s turning them on.

A loud bell rang, startling the hell out of me. I struggled to get my nerves under control and then forced myself to look at the fifteen men who are ogling me. I’m so stressed I forgot for a few brief seconds that I’m waiting for one of the men to order me into some suggestive pose.

One of the men finally gave me an order. He ordered me to sit at one of the small student desks. The seats were obviously made for very young students. I managed to squeeze myself into the seat but my knees don’t fit under the desk. I’m forced to sit with my legs extended.

The men formed a predatory semicircle in front of me. They took a few fairly innocent pictures in that relatively modest pose before someone ordered me to spread my legs farther and farther apart.

The man who ordered me to sit in the chair waited until everyone had an opportunity to take a few pictures. I suppose they’re able to get a glimpse of my panties under my skirt. But that wasn’t enough to satisfy them. He stepped out of the crowd and reached under the desk. A chill ran through me as his hand gripped the hem of my skirt and slid it up until it was nearly to my waist. He ordered me to hold it there and stepped back to take more pictures.

When everyone who wished to had taken a picture of my panties I was ordered to stand and bend over until my hands were touching the floor. The short skirt I’m wearing pulled up in back as I bent over and I suspect that by the time I was positioned where they wanted me nearly half of my ass was exposed.

I stayed like that for a few minutes and then I was ordered to stand. Two men lifted me off the floor and placed me on the teacher’s desk against the front wall. They didn’t tell me how to pose this time, though. Instead, the men who positioned me on the desk seemed to take great pleasure in lifting my legs and arranging them with my heels on the edge of the desk, exposing my panties again.

It seemed that positioning my legs required a lot of touching. Their hands slid up over my thighs as they positioned my legs, obviously enjoying themselves as they raised my skirt in the process of placing my legs where they wanted them.

I looked down to see how badly exposed I am. It’s every bit as bad as I feared. But I’m even more dismayed to see that a slight darkening in a thin line centered over my pussy. It looks very much like I’m getting wet!

I’m certain that isn’t possible, though. I’m not even slightly aroused. I’m terrified.

It’s almost impossible for me to look around at the men taking my picture. But I glanced up now. It was unavoidable. I began to notice that not everyone is taking pictures, thankfully. Not all the time at least. Some of them spent a lot of time just staring at my exposed flesh and my underwear.

After those customers who cared to had taken the shot, two of the men lifted me to my feet and helped me to stand on shaky legs. They immediately turned me around and put me back up on the desk on my hands and knees.

Someone guided me into position with my head down on my arms. Of course, in that position my little skirt pulled up exposing quite a bit of my panty covered ass to them. They gathered around and knelt down and took more humiliating pictures. More than a few of those pictures featured male hands lifting my skirt up onto my back and groping my ass.

I remained in place, staring at the blank wall in front of me, trying desperately to keep my mind blank. My only refuge, my only hope of maintaining my sanity, is to make believe this isn’t happening to me. I’m not having much luck with that, though. It’s all but impossible for a woman to ignore the hands of strange men groping her under her clothing.

The humiliating groping and the picture taking continued until the bell rang, signaling that it’s time to remove my blouse.

Two of the men lifted me off of the desk. They turned me until I faced the men and the cameras which are still taking pictures. They all eagerly watched me through their viewfinders, clicking away as I unbuttoned and removed the blouse I’d been given to wear for the photo session.

As I slowly removed the borrowed garment I can’t help but be aware of how hard my nipples are and how obvious it is through the thin, lacy bra the owner of this august establishment provided.

I heard a lot of snide comments on the fact that my nipples are hard and can be seen through the lace bra which is inadequately covering them. The men all seem to assume my erect nipples mean I’m becoming aroused. I know it isn’t true. But I see no sense in arguing the point. I’d only humiliate myself even more than I already am and even if they care they probably won’t believe me.

I returned to posing as they began ordering me around again. I placed my hands behind my neck and pushed my elbows back, thrusting my chest out for a flurry of pictures. Then I clasped my hands behind my back and thrust my shoulders back to achieve basically the same effect.

One of the men stood me beside one of the student desks. He reached down with both hands, grabbed my leg just above the knee and lifted it up. His hands moved over my leg for a moment before he stretched it out and placed it on the desk. My skirt slid up enough to expose a small portion of my panties again and more pictures were taken.

I was repositioned frequently. Each new pose was accompanied by crude groping as I was placed into one lewd and lascivious pose after another. Time seemed to stand still. The posing and groping went on and on. But the bell finally rang to indicate it’s time for me to remove the skirt.

My panties have been on display almost constantly since I began posing. They made certain of it. That didn’t make it any easier to remove the skirt I’d been given. The picture taking continued as my shaking fingers struggled with the button and the zipper holding the skirt in place.

It took me so long that the men became impatient. I ignored their unkind remarks and finally pushed the skirt down over my hips and let it fall to the floor at my feet. I stepped out of it and kicked it aside, then looked up to see what they’re going to demand of me now.

The older man among the customers, the guy who I guess is in his sixties, seems to have taken charge. Without conferring with any of the other men he decided to move the action to the next set, the small stage with nothing but the fake fur rug. I was steered towards the stage by the hands on my ass.

Someone guided me onto the fur on the edge of the stage. With all the groping I’m slowly becoming accustomed to they moved my body into pose after pose, each more suggestive than the last.

Although I was under almost constant assault, male hands groping and squeezing and sliding over every part of my body almost from the very beginning of this horrible experience, things didn’t really start heating up until the next bell rang. That was when I was required to remove my bra.

I stood in front of all those men and slowly bared my breasts like a common stripper. I couldn’t see myself, thank god. But I could feel my face turn dark red as embarrassment was heaped upon embarrassment.

It just got worse from there. Hands struggled with each other to gain access to my breasts. As the men manipulated my body, moving me into whatever humiliating pose struck their fancy they all took turns squeezing my breasts and pulling on my nipples.

Many of the pictures featured hands manipulating my breasts or pinching my nipples. It wasn’t just embarrassing and degrading. Much of it was quite painful and they knew it.

My mind began to wander out of necessity. I know I would have gone mad if I didn’t escape from the humiliation, even if I only get away in my mind.

I began to wonder if I’m different now. There’s no doubt in my mind that the woman I was yesterday could not have done what I’m doing now. I would have been a mindless, simpering wreck.

So how can I allow myself ... no, force myself to do this now? Could I have been capable of doing these things all along?! Or am I still being influenced by the drug Tom put in my beer last night?

My thoughts were interrupted and I was forced back to the present when the bell rang again. I was roughly pulled to my feet once more. Two men saved me the trouble of removing my panties. One of them moved to each side of me and the rest of the crowd took pictures as they slowly slid my panties down.

The pictures began to get a lot more obscene now, as hard as that might be to believe. I was placed on my back. My legs were lifted toward the ceiling and held spread wide apart, splaying me the most obscene and degrading display yet.

But even that wasn’t enough for them. I was forced to spread my pussy open for them and hold it that way. They ordered me to smile but I couldn’t and I’m reasonably certain they knew I couldn’t when the ordered me to. They were just being sarcastic. They know I hate this and my discomfort added to their pleasure.

There were dozens of pictures taken with various strange men sticking their fat fingers all the way up inside of me.

Once every man who wished to had inserted his fingers into my vagina I was turned over and placed on my hands and knees. Someone ordered me to reach back and pull the cheeks of my ass wide apart.