Author Topic: My Ambition  (Read 6719 times)

Offline Rachel_Thornton

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #45 on: April 14, 2021, 10:59:36 AM »
A truly great continuation to a story that is as deep as it is erotic. Have been really enjoying the internal dilemma with Lucia and her fixation with being the best she can be while also embracing the appeal of the whore within.
As always your writing continues to draw the reader into the nest of decadence with descriptions we enjoy and recoil at.
The characters are deep and harbouring their own motives and plans for the future. The way that Lucia has been called to the club to meet with the men has been set up perfectly and we wonder if her idea of servicing is different from her betters idea of 'servicing'!
Bringing back the familiar character of Nev has been a welcome and interesting twist in the story, she is living the life now that Lucia should be recoiling at, however there is that part of her that wants this to be her fate.
Looking forward to reading more as it becomes available and merit easily earnt.

Offline Seeker

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #46 on: April 15, 2021, 03:42:16 PM »
Thank you for such supportive comments Graham and Rachel. They spur me on to bring Lucia's journey closer to it's conclusion.


Chapter 13

I felt like a female Dionysus, serving wine while promoting extreme debauchery. They had taken the women to the couches against the walls of the room and were fucking them. Literally raping them… there was no other word for what was happening to those poor women.

Garcia had mounted a statuesque blond on hands and knees from behind… comments about his preferences from the night before clouded my vision as I witnessed his stringent requirements… I couldn’t even see if he was pummelling her vagina or her rectum, but either way she was groaning in an expression of her painful ordeal. I have no idea how he did it, but when I obediently offered him a refill, he held out a half-finished glass of white and told me to “Top it up” without missing a stroke.

All I heard from her was heartfelt grunts of pain or effort, as he bottomed out in whatever orifice he’d chosen.  Her face was covered by her hair as she hung her head in seeming shame and submission, while he was clearly relishing every ounce of pleasure that he could extract from her trembling body.

The fat slug, Mr Melo was reclining on the couch, making his poor girl plunge her anal orifice onto his upright prick over and over again. When I approached him, I could see he was in the throws of a dystopian Dune like fantasy, with him in the leading role as the Baron. He just opened his mouth wide as he lay back indicating that I should pour his red wine straight into his mouth, while the slight black-haired girl abused herself on his fat ugly body. It looked like he’d been killed by some ruthless assassin as red liquid leaked out of his mouth and down his cheeks. Seeing the agonised grimace of the girl as she obediently fucked him, I wished I was that assassin, and it was his blood…

He giggled with maniacal glee, telling me to dribble the red wine down his partner’s chest and into her groin, acting as if he was stabbing her as he insensitively plunged his spear into her loins over and over again. She valiantly writhed on top of him, pretending he was the greatest lover she’d ever experienced, and that his infantile antics aroused her dark desires.

The two men I didn’t know seemed to have a compact, because they had their red headed fuck toys spread over the dining table, facing each other. They looked so similar I thought they might be siblings, but nothing in their actions was sisterly. One as on her back, legs flailing in the air with her shoes forcing her toes to point at the ceiling. The other was bent over, legs spread wide, and her breasts mashed into the wood, hands obediently spreading her ass.  The men were disdainfully standing and fucking them hard, while making them French kiss each other, as if they were eager lesbians.

I cringed at the two men’s supercilious smirks and derogatory remarks.  Their glasses where easily filled and reached, positioned as they within easy reach beside the abused women, who were being careful not to knock them over as they were rutted so brutally. Cavalier nods of their heads instructed me to fill them, without deigning to give me a verbal acknowledgement of my presence nor thanks for my service.

Regardless of the inadvertent trauma caused to those poor women, facing Nic was even more difficult.  He had a his victim, who on first glance had blond hair and a body shape like mine, bent over in the position that I recalled from that night he had raped me. Face in the cushions of the couch and ass up high to receiving his relentless pounding.

I felt deeply humiliated at the memory and the way he nonchalantly shook me off, like a baseball catcher, not caring about what I had to offer because he had what he wanted right in front of him. He was drilling the unfortunate girl as hard as he could, a grimace of intense emotion on his face and his bare body moving like a whirling dervish.

Finally, I reached Mr Dias, reclining in an armchair with Nev between his legs. He had a hand on the back of her head and was forcing her mouth down onto his rampant erection.  I was amazed to see her seemingly effortlessly swallow him whole, a trick she must have only recently learned, because the month before we had had a giggling chat about our pronounced gag reflexes and our inability to deepthroat even the smallest dicks.  He was literally throat fucking her, bobbing her head in his lap with only occasional gurgles and gags, and no overt resistance from my former friend.

I tried not to stare at her, as I stood before him, looking at him enquiringly, a bottle of wine in each hand.  But he was not interested in that offering, rather his free hand shot out and grabbed me between my legs. He growled “Stand still!” as I flinched and started to retreat while he skilfully slipped a finger under the gusset of my panties and straight into my vagina, holding me there with his hooked finger and the curt instruction.

“A predicably horny slut.” He gloated as he started fingerfucking me deep and hard. “You’re turned on and gushing, just like these whores. Wishing it was you being fucked. Eh?”

His amused eyes met mine before I looked down in my shame, not being able to deny his observation. Because my slit was sopping and had soaked my panties. The lewd scenes in the room had aroused me, but I could not accept it was because I wanted to be like these whores. No, I wanted to be the men, showing them that I was their superior. That they should service me too. I was the hostess, not a whore. Surely, he knew that. I shook my head in denial, even as he tormented my slit, making my legs go weak.

He forced me to stand there next to him, hands incapacitated by holding the bottles, legs spread as he frigged me. I could feel the arousal rise, warming my loins and my stomach, sending tingles over my skin as he pounded Nev’s throat. I looked around the carnal scenes in the room, the despicable images driving me higher towards my peak. Debauched, wicked actions being perpetrated on these helpless women. It was so hot.

It made me so excited, that and his ruthless fingering, that I lost control of myself, cumming on his hand as he shot loads of sperm into Nev’s mouth and over her chin.  My legs couldn’t hold me through my crescendo, dropping me to my knees beside Nev, between his widespread legs, still unconsciously holding the bottles so as not to let them spill. I noticed his satisfied smirk as he stared down at me, while Nev obediently suckled his deflating organ, cleaning it and ensuring that all his seed was captured in her whore mouth.

“Share it.” A gruff lust filled instruction, making Nev lean over and kiss me, without hesitation. So quickly that I couldn’t respond or resist, distracted as I was by the flutters and shivers still coursing through my body.  Her cum coated tongue was inside my mouth, exchanging his fluids and our saliva, smearing the sticky goo from her chin onto mine.

As she held me tight in her embrace, I felt horrified, repulsed and humiliated, defenceless and weak, all at the same time. Confusion reigning. And to my eternal shame, I also felt that knot of arousal reignited in my pussy, as she kissed me, tongues intertwined, while her hand drifted onto my breast, gently caressing and tweaking my nipple. How could I get horny from this exhibitionist display, clearly only meant to entertain my boss, not provide us any intended pleasure. But regardless of the unwanted feelings, it did. I felt like such a slut…

Eventually she stopped and I was forced to swallow his foul spew and look around, slightly disoriented and unfocused. But that didn’t stop me from seeing and hearing the end of the other men’s enjoyment, grunts and expletives as they filled whatever hole they were plundering with their spunk. With little care about the moans and cries of the women they were using.

“Gentlemen. Grab a drink, relax and recover. Soon we’ll move onto the highlight of the evening and I’m sure you’ll want your energy for that.” Dias’ voice rang out over the relative silence of satisfied masculine sighs and eager feminine suckling, as they cleaned up the messes they had left on the men’s equipment. “We’ll be inducting our newest whore.”

I knelt there, slightly dazed and overwhelmed, not really comprehending what he’d said, the bottles of wine that marked my hostess station still clasped in my hands. Wondering who and what he was talking about…

“Girls!” One word snapped, with an instant response. Nev, grabbed my right arm as another of the whores suddenly appeared on my other side to clasp my left wrist. The pulled me up, as two more women came up behind us to push me forward, towards the table. Surprised, I dropped the bottles, letting them fall with a thud onto the rug, a splash of wine wetting my ankles.

“Hey… what?” I blurted out, confused but not really resisting. Until it was too late, because they pushed me over onto my stomach and pinned me there, my arms pulled behind my back and my ankles grabbed and spreading wide. I was no match for six strong obedient women, intent on overpowering me.

Cuffs appeared out of nowhere, and within seconds I was secured face down with my hands immobilised in the small of my back.  Lying over the table, hips pushed up against the edge and my legs spread shamefully wide, while my head hung dejectedly over the other edge. A ring-gag was pried into my mouth, taking away my ability to voice my distress and outrage, as unknown fingers were hooked into the sides of my thong panties and pulled down until it was stretched across the crease just below my round ass cheeks. I realised how undignified I must look, my nether holes exposed and parted and my mouth available for whatever they planned.

I looked up and my eyes met Nev’s, seeing a deep stricken look of helplessness, regret and sadness, before she looked away, not able to cope with the emotions she was obviously feeling. Having done their job, most of the treacherous whores withdrew towards the men who had remained seated, unmoved by the sudden attack and my violation. Only one remained, pressing into the centre of my back, preventing me any escape or reprieve. My flailing legs made no impact on anyone, nor achieved anything except making me feel foolish and hopeless.

I couldn’t believe my own gender would betray me like that, without any consideration for another woman. I was Nev’s friend, didn’t that mean anything? At that moment, I couldn’t see the irony… nor comprehend how utterly subjugated these whores were…

But I could see my future. Realisation dawned on me. This had planned this all along and I had been duped. It was all some insidious game, and I was the stooge. They’d led me on, probably watching in amusement as I debased myself for some fictitious job, while there was never any doubt about the eventual outcome…

Tears of rage and frustration and shame welled and dripped silently down my cheeks as I berated myself for my stupidity and my arrogance. I wanted to scream and protest, but all I could manage was an undignified gargled “Aahhh…. ouuuwh… hhhh…”

A sharp slap on my buttock announced my boss’ attention, followed by a gentle caress of my buttock as if to soothe the pain.  With difficulty, I was able to look over my shoulder at him, twisting my body awkwardly, only to see his smug face staring back at me. I shook my head and protested unintelligibly. “Uhh uhhh…”

“Stop being such a prima donna. This is what you were born for.” I felt his finger slip between my legs and into my slit, running up and down, collecting the moisture that had oozed all over my labia, before he plunged two fingers unceremoniously into my vagina. “See… You’re just a horny slut. WAP… You want this, even if you don’t want to admit it… yet. But we’ll show you the way.” He slapped my other buttock as he casually fingered me.

“Ngg ngh.” I tried to object, but all I achieve was to drool on my chin, looking back helplessly at the man who had raped me, brought me here and was going to turn me into his plaything. Was intending to reduce me to a whore, to entertain him and his clients. As I had that thought, I couldn’t prevent the flash of arousal when his fingers found my G-spot and rubbed it expertly, making me mewl in forced pleasure at my awful debasement.

“Your body says otherwise.” He chuckled, pulling his fingers out of me and wiping them on my upper thigh. “But before we continue, we must make it official. Your promotion.” He said, taking a felt marker and holding my backside firmly in his hand. “Congratulations, you’re a fully-fledged whore… number one hundred and eleven… I hope you do better than your predecessor… you don’t want to end up like her.” He mused pensively and horrifyingly enigmatically.

Then to my dismay, he started writing. Marking me. Reducing me to a number, not a person. Like livestock, numerically tagged for ease of… of what? Referencing, management, deprivation… I tugged vainly at my bindings, not willing to accept this travesty. But to no avail, the women pinning me was too strong… In seconds I was numbered. A whore, his whore. To be used by them, and their clients… my betters… however they wanted…

“Look at the upside.” He said calmly as he came round the table, to take a seat on a chair by my head. Pulling back on my hair so I couldn’t avoid looking into his piercing gaze. “You want to be successful. You’ll get that raise you wanted… luxurious accommodation… and other perks…”

As he said that I felt a pair of soft hands on my backside, gently spreading me to allow a tongue to lap enthusiastically at my slit. I shivered and trembled, at his words and the sensations coursing through me. Looking back at him in confusion, overwhelmed by everything, I wanted to close my legs, to stop whoever it was.

But I didn’t, instead I arched my back to provide her access. Because it was clearly skilled feminine attention that I was receiving, swirling and licking and probing with a small insistent muscle into every tender and secret part of my womanhood.

“Money buys freedom in this world.” He lectured me with a confident smirk. No one in the room made a sound, except for the slurping between my thighs and the almost inaudible swoosh of hand on skin as the watching men inadvertently fondled their whores. “Without it, you are nothing more than a slave, forced to work for someone else, ending up with nothing. Earning a pittance and then paying it all straight back to your bosses for a place to stay, something to eat, various necessities, and a little fun at a club. Just so you can have the privilege of going back to work the next day and doing it all over again.”

I could hardly concentrate on his wicked words, with the talented tongue distracting me, making me writhe like a needy little slut on the table.

“Look around you… this is not some tawdry strip club. There are no whores here, no poor cold sluts standing on the side of the street, begging for tricks. Here, there are only performers, entertainers, dream girls. Goddesses that men desire with all their soul. You can be someone special, a success.”

He spoke with such conviction. His words were ludicrous. Outrageously compelling. Was it real, that we were all indentured… slaves?

I wasn’t a slave. I didn’t want to be.  But I didn’t want to be a whore, either. He watched me silently, waiting for my decision, waiting for me to tell him I wanted to be…

“Accept it.  I know you want it… you want it all. Acknowledge what you are.” He stood as he spoke, releasing himself from his trousers. My boss’ manhood, the organ that had already ravished me, was already swelling, becoming hard, in front of my face. My fearful needy eyes transfixed on his approaching cock. He finally asked. “You do want it, don’t you, Lucia… number 111?”

I’m not sure if I nodded or acquiesced in some way, I don’t recall. Regardless, he sealed the deal by thrusting through the ring gag into my mouth and straight down my throat, in one brutal stroke. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but that didn’t stop him from crowing “Good girl. Accept your fate.”

With that the floodgates opened. I was their plaything, their whore. The delicious tongue was roughly pulled away and replaced by a hard pole. Not tender and giving, but brutal and demanding, thrusting deep into my sex and battering away at my womb. Shards of pain and pleasure merging in the pit of my stomach, a cacophony of sensation.

It was the beginning of the longest ordeal of my life, up until that time. My induction to whoredom…
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.
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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #47 on: April 15, 2021, 04:24:28 PM »
Just how high did the aspirations of Lucia go when she was asked to serve in a private club? You would have thought that she would have expected the actions of the men before she even step foot inside the club! Merit awarded in hopes that you'll continue the story past the point you call the end!

Offline spunkjunk

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #48 on: April 16, 2021, 02:13:47 PM »
That is a hot world I just joined in. Love the very mental view! For me it sounds o.k. but I´m not a woman. The sex is hot anyway.
Makes me a yen for the deftech thing, merit

Thank you for sharing
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Offline grendel

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #49 on: April 18, 2021, 10:30:17 AM »
Good work Seeker, thank you.   8)  Are we nearing then end ... or will there be another twist?
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Offline Seeker

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #50 on: April 18, 2021, 02:18:02 PM »
Good work Seeker, thank you.   8)  Are we nearing then end ... or will there be another twist?

As you know there is always more fun to be had in the DevTech universe, and recall that this is only a temporary if extended deviation from the main story.

All (or some things) will be revealed in the next few chapters, or more depending in how my creative juices flow  ;) >:D ;D
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.
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Offline Seeker

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #51 on: April 22, 2021, 05:01:24 PM »
Thank you all. As you know, the enjoyment we writers get from insightful comments makes the effort worth while...


Chapter 14

The limo pulled up inside an underground parking, beside a solid metal door. I was puzzled by the industrial look of steel and concrete but realised that it was the nature of the clandestine venue I’d been invited into. It gave me a thrill of excitement, to enter this secretive world.

The security was high-tech, a video retinal scan of the chauffeur was required for the door to open. He ushered me into a minimalist entrance hall where the two bouncers asked me with grim faces to “Please wait.”

Moments later in walked my boss, Nic saying “Lucia, you look ravishing.”

He approached me smiling warmly, briefly acknowledging Tweedledum and Tweedledee with a dismissive nod. Just as coolly, he held my hand and guided me towards the door saying “Let’s go. They’re expecting you.”

He accompanied me through to a wonderfully ornate door, into a room where the décor was so sumptuous that I felt like I’d entered a glossy magazine. Seated at a table were many of the people from the company, the bosses Mr Melo and Mr Dias at each head, and even Ms Alves next to our client Garcia. 

Nic guided me towards the two empty chairs. I sat down, savouring the sumptuous feeling on my legs and the idea that I was one of them, that they had invited me to the high table. It didn’t matter that they chatted around me and smiled condescendingly when I tried to join in.

It also didn’t matter when an array of serving girls came in to offer us respite, victuals for our enjoyment.

A while later, with a click of a finger the servile whores dropped to their knees and crawled under the table to pleasure us. But I was not included in the ‘us’, there was no one between my legs. They were all otherwise occupied, but there was still as chance…

I flushed with embarrassment, wondering if it was an oversight. Surely being at the table meant something…

I couldn’t hold my tongue and spoke hesitantly “Sir? Umm… Could… umm…”

They all turned to me and burst into laughter, raucous unbridled mirth with a nasty cruel edge. They were obviously laughing at me, as if I’d made a terrible faux pas. I cringed, feeling so small and insignificant.

“You thought you were here to…” He guffawed as he shook his head in a pretence of confusion. “No Lucia, you’re here to watch and learn. You’re not one of us… You’re a whore, like you were always destined to be. It’s what you are and what you want…”

I woke up suddenly from the dream, humiliation and angst breaking though my sleeping consciousness. Leaving me shattered, panting with my heart racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was. Waking up in a cold dark room, lying on a thin uncomfortable mattress, a threadbare blanked pulled over my naked body.  Then fragments of memories from the past three days flitted through my mind like a rapid video mashup. None complete but all vivid… and unsettling, reminding me of… Noooooooooooooooooooo! The reality was so much worse that my dream…

…that first night, all the men using me, my throat or my pussy, thankfully nothing else… taking turns to fuck me, while the other girls acted as fluffers, getting the men ready... they’d threatened an induction and it was… an induction from hell, going overboard, filling me up with their cocks, at both ends, pounding me deeply… making me choke as they pushed into my throat, unconcerned about my inability to breath… pummelling my womb with hard insensitive thrusts… then coating my insides with their foul semen, letting it ooze out of my nose and down my legs… never letting me up, never releasing my arms, making me lie bent over the table, taking whatever they wanted with no thought for my pain or discomfort…

…the moment I realised that Nic was having his way with me… again without my consent and without any means to protest… a surreal moment when the hard anonymous pole in my mouth had spewed its filth… there was a pause, like time stood still, and nothing arose to replace… A tug of my hair, twisting my unseeing eyes around and a whisper… his voice in my soul, telling me that I should have been more cooperative… that there was a different future, if I wasn’t such a bitch… but that was gone, like a whisper in the wind…

…my tight throat was rubbed raw by the time they were on their second round, what must have been hours later… although I had no sense of time, minutes or days… gagging and heaving around their brutal shafts and bulbous heads… slime and mucus glopped up as my stomach convulsed, tasting awful but providing some limited lubrication which just seemed to make them more pitiless… it felt like every one of them was hung like a horse, although I’m sure they weren’t... but the constriction of my neck and the inflammation of my sensitive membranes exacerbated every moment one of them was plugging my gullet… and there were few moments that I wasn’t filled…

…my delicate vagina was no less damaged by their relentless abuse… the soft tissues and folds chaffed and scraped by their plundering organs… bruised and battered, as was my cervix with their deep sustained onslaught… my natural lubrication inadequate to provide protection… but despite the pain my body’s response, forced onto me… by their actions… squeezing my arousal from my abuse, making me plateau numerous times before cumming on their hated pricks… fortunately only twice, but enough to cause my deep shame and self-loathing… and further mortification as they laughed and taunted me for being the whore they were turning me into…

…eventually tiring of me and letting Nev take me away… half comatose from the ordeal, but slowly recovering in a warm bath… Nev’s gentle hands soothing the pain, caressing my flesh, caring for me… letting me soak and rejuvenate in the fragrant bubbles… furtively whispering her fear and sympathy… that these men were monsters and would stop at nothing to make us do what they wanted… to break our spirit and turn us into obedient fuck toys… they’d threatened her family and her life… in amongst the horrible torture they had inflicted to make her compliant… relentlessly tutoring her in the sexual skills they demanded… under threat of worse punishment and maltreatment… telling me to do what they said, if I didn’t want it to be much worse…

…what they called registration when I woke the next day… taken by the club manager to a medical room down a long corridor… forced onto a table to pose in obscene positions for their camera… unwillingly smiling at the camera as I opened myself for the pictures… bottom in the air chest on the cold metal surface, looking over my shoulder, my hand spreading my vulva for them to see inside… on my back, legs spread impossibly wide with their encouragement, pulling myself open, a hand on each buttock, with that same forced smile… for their catalogue, demonstrating my eagerness to please… or so it seemed…

…subjected to a medical exam, for their records… beyond anything any reputable doctor would conduct… checking my teeth, gums and throat… plunging a dildo like measure into my mouth ‘to see how far it went’, checking my gag-reflex… fingers and speculums up inside me, both front and back… causing me to whimper in shame, but not allowing me any leeway to resist… ensuring my acquiescence with the threat of the manager’s cane… sticking his finger up me to test my response, thumb strumming my clit… smiling when my natural moisture smeared on his hand and using that to explore my rectum… making me lick ‘my mess’ off his hand and almost retching at the foul taste of myself on his fingers…

…holding me bent over as they inked my backside… or was it me that held the position unaided, I don’t recall… permanently marking me with their number… not considering that I may not want to wear their mark forever… laughing and telling me that I was special, beautiful, privileged, that only the most gorgeous, sexy girls were invited for registration… and that I was part of the elite few, allowed to continue working at the office, albeit in a different capacity... that it was a naughty erotic detail that only a few people would know about… those that I would serve and obey… a whore, owned by my betters, fulfilling a valuable role, one that I was most suited for… was born to perform…

…taking more pictures of me displaying my number and my assets… before being told… no made… no forced to suck the doctor as thanks from registering me… and then the manager picked me up, by the hair and bent me over the cold impersonal table… and fucked me silly, casually chatting to the doctor about the ‘feel of my cunt’ and my responsiveness… that I was undoubtably one of the best whores that they had collared… making me feel that they owned me, despite my misgivings and my doubts, I was owned and numbered by these evil men… and to my horror, it didn’t feel all bad…

…learning to deepthroat ‘properly’, meaning smoothly with no gagging, willingly and by myself… plastic dildos mounted at bizarre heights intended for my throat… failure rewarded by a wet cloth over my face, learning what it means to suffocate slowly, to die… whispered encouragement, simple instructions, diabolical execution… graduating the artificial training grounds… real men, real cocks, not the static members of my tuition, but organic means of destruction… learning that breathing was a privileged earned through cum… two minutes at a time, unconsciousness not an excuse for failure to please… over and over again, until it was second nature and that pesky gagging was a thing of the past…

…learning to use my tits, as they make me call them… gagging me first to obtain adequate lubricant and letting it drool into my pristine cleavage, or what was once pristine… making a slick tunnel, or rather a valley, between my breasts or ‘fuck pillows’… pressed together by my unwilling but compliant hands, ensuring a tight fit for their pleasure… obedience ensured after the first whipping that created red hot burning agony, on my eventual submission… and their cruel enjoyment… before the ropes…. and what they did, or really meant… with shards of electric agony through my chest for the slightest…


…learning to ride, to fuck a dick to oblivion… exhaustion and muscle fatigue not an excuse… the clip on my clit, encouraging me to greater heights… not mine, just my desperate effort for their enjoyment… practicing my clenching as I ride, seems to make them happy… squeeze on the way out and push on the way in… that’s the secret they whisper in my ear… telling me that is what whores do… and that I’m a whore…

But I don’t want to be a whore… this is not what I’ve asked for… but why does my body betray me at every turn… why do I cum when I suck them or fuck them… why? how is that possible if I’m not a slut like they say… I wanted something else… but maybe this is my destiny… like the CEO said…

"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.
                                             You can find my portfolio of stories at

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #52 on: April 22, 2021, 06:17:51 PM »
I love when an author has a character analyze all the actions around them and figure out that they were deluded from the start! Realization is so much better when it hits then smack in the face like Lucia's experience! merit award from me!

Offline grendel

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #53 on: April 27, 2021, 12:26:31 PM »
Agree completely.  Lovely work   8)
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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #54 on: April 29, 2021, 10:37:39 PM »
Thank you chg and grendel. You both know how much comments are appreciated. This chapter is more languid and detailed, but I enjoy the slow build it allows. Hope you enjoy.


Chapter 15 – My Audition

I lay like I always did between their training sessions, on my side curled into a ball, staring sightlessly at the wall. Only images from the past few days flashing in front of my eyes, like I was losing my mind. I found it hard to recall anything from before the cycles of exhaustion, pain and abuse, mixed in with forced arousal and induced cooperation.

I’d realised that I was not as brave as I thought I was. Courage was a great idea in abstract, without having to face real fear or intense pain at the hands of men who didn’t play by the rules, or at least society’s rules. They had their own strict rules that revolved around me doing what I was told, unhesitatingly and enthusiastically.

I am a coward. There, I’ve said it. There is a certain quiet relief in admitting that, because it frees one from the guilt of not resisting, of complying with whatever is demanded. Anything to avoid being hurt, or at least any more than they planned for their own entertainment. Because obedience doesn’t imply no pain, just no unnecessary extra punishment.

I felt very alone. I wished my parents were alive, then maybe I wouldn’t have come here, to this city, to this job. And I wouldn’t be here. It was my fault, my ambition, a desire to be someone and do important things. But they were turning me into something else, someone I didn’t want to be. Despite how certain they were that this was what I was meant to be. And to my dismay, their confidence had started rubbing off on me… at times I started wondering whether they were right, and this is all I could amount to…

The door opened, casting bright passage light into my dimly lit room. The stark bed in the one corner and a dresser in the other. An open bathroom made up the remainder of the small white painted cube. The Club Manager stood in the doorway.

I’d got to know him well over the previous few days, intimately in fact. Because he and ‘Coach’, were the ones that supervised all of my ‘tutoring’.  He was average height, slightly overweight with a round face, beads of sweat perpetually on his upper lip and forehead but taking over his entire face when he exerted effort to fuck me.  He had cold emotionless eyes and an impassive severity, speaking with a melodic ambiguous Southern European accent, that belied his cruel domineering streak.  Even though has wasn’t tall, it felt like he towered over me and looked at me like I was an irksome bit of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

I leapt to my feet, as I had been trained, feet shoulder width apart, hands cupped in the small of my back, chest out and eyes downcast. At attention, waiting for instructions. Still not believing that I did this automatically now, embarrassed at my nakedness, but having learned that any attempt to conceal myself from his gaze brought… it was not worth the pain, given that we all knew I would obey eventually.

“Whore111, we believe you are ready for your audition.” He smirked at me as he walked over, casually reaching out and cupping my breast, before twisting a nipple hard. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to cry out, my silly little attempt at dignity in the face of overwhelming odds. “This is your script and here is your outfit.” He handed me a folded piece of paper tucked into the box he was carrying, like one might get from a high-end boutique. “Be dressed and ready in half an hour. I expect you to be perfect.”

I responded “Yes, Sir” to his retreating back, having been taught here that all men are referred to as Sir and I should verbally respond to each instruction with alacrity…

But I collapsed into a heap on the bed once the door closed, consoling myself that it could have been worse. My heart sank as I read the instructions on the paper and opened the box. At the top of the page was a picture of me from my registration photoshoot, spreading my vagina and smiling for the camera. But what was more chilling was the circle and crosshairs of a rifle sight over my body centred on my exposed chest, the threat dramatically obvious if somewhat crude. Below that was the script for a scene they wanted me to play. I sat there, depression flooding over me, wondering how and why my life had come to this.

Not much later, I was staring back at myself, sitting in front of the mirror as countless women have done for generations. I felt an almost subdued detachment, the face gazing back at me, almost unrecognisable to the normal me. A painted image, like they had instructed. Too bright red lipstick, too dark eyeliner, too much mascara, too heavy base, all contributing to the face of… A courtesan? An entertainer? No, a cheap whore… just what they wanted. Completed by rouge on my nipples and a hint of Dior Pure Poison on my neck, according to their lavish requirements.

I felt a helpless ache in my heart as I clipped the last suspender of the garter belt to the sheer nude stockings with the fine back seam. A visual cue for whoever may see me clipping along in the five-inch navy blue stiletto heels they had given me to wear. Smoothing them up my calves and thighs as I realised there were slight wrinkles around my ankles.  Pulling them up and tightening the suspender straps to make sure they were flawlessly aligned, for whoever got to see them… other than me. The instructions required perfection…

As I finished with positioning the patterned dark purple lace garter and stocking ensemble, I pulled the miniscule matching thong panties up my legs, to take their awful position bisecting my buttocks. Hating while relishing the tingle it gave me as it snugly cupped my sex, the triangle of diaphanous material hiding nothing and in fact emphasising my womanhood to anyone looking. I’d never before worn a costume such as this, designed purely for the pleasure of some man for whom I was expected to perform. Loathing the idea, but knowing I’d do whatever they demanded, because I couldn’t face the alternative.

I followed the written instructions as best I could, the dress code clear. Slipping the navy skirt up over my hips, shorter than anything I’d worn before. Almost a micro miniskirt that tantalisingly revealed the lace tops of my stockings and hinted at the skin above. I was sure that if I bent over, everyone would see my garter belts and the thong of my panties riding up and cupping my crotch.  The bra was delicate purple lace and so low cut that half of each nipple was exposed, while it pushed my boobs together to create an impressive cleavage. Shucking on the ivory blouse which was so tight it could hardly close and clearly showed the lingerie it was supposed to cover. With every additional item I put on, I felt a bit more of my self-worth stripped away.

The door burst open, with the manager yelling “Not ready yet?”

“Sorry… Sir…”

I hastily finished buttoning the top, quivering because I had disobeyed him… I was not dressed in time, even as I realised that he had intentionally arrived five minutes early… My last glance in the mirror confirmed my suspicions, I was dressed as a fetish version of a sexy secretary, meant to seduce her boss… Or in reality what they intended me to be, a coffee girl, available to any executive or client they demanded. Now going to a fate that was still unclear, even though the scrip detailed it’s start and tone. Nausea in the pit of my stomach, along with the churning anxiety.

I followed him meekly on his command, clip-clopping unsteadily on my heels, down deserted passages and up bare stairwells, through doors that opened automatically as we approached, out of the basement where I’d been kept for the past few days. I hurt everywhere, the result of the ordeals I’d been put through, the lessons I’d been taught, and the punishments I’d suffered. But the physical acts where only half of it, the psychological conditioning was so much worse, the truths I’d been made to acknowledge about myself, my weakness, tormented me more than my aching body. I wanted to wake up, to be back in my past life, where this would be a bad dream that I could dismiss and laugh about. But unfortunately, it was very real…

We eventually reached my assigned room and the door opened quietly without anyone touching it. For a moment, I wondered how. Was someone watching our every move?  A firm shove on my shoulder told me it was time to enter, to meet my future. I knew that once I walked through that doorway, my fate was sealed. I would become what they intended, a pathetic willing participant in my own degradation, serving at their pleasure. I only hesitated for an instant and then went through, as they knew I would…

I told myself that I could act the part but keep myself intact. Hide beneath the surface, until I could escape. I would do what they wanted to survive, to avoid punishment, but they would never own me, despite their mark, my number indelibly printed on my skin. I supressed the doubt that they had planted about this being what I deserved, that being a high-class whore was all I could aspire to… and walked into the room to do just that. Pausing once I was inside with the door closing silently behind me, I looked around.

It was a large luxurious room, plush carpet merging into marble announcing a bathroom to my right. An oversized bed in the far corner, with a large, overstuffed couch and coffee table in the opposite corner. At first, I thought there was no one else in the room, the lighting soft and subtle, leaving a pool of darkness to my right. Then I realised there was a high-backed armchair and a figure reclining in the shadows.

“Hello, Lucia. I’m sure you prefer that to your new title… even though ‘one-eleven’ has a certain ring to it.” I could hear the smile in the CEO’s voice, even though I couldn’t see it. The man who had brought me here and was responsible for everything that had happened, my rapist and my boss… and now my ‘owner’.

“Please… you don’t have to do this… please let me go and I’ll leave… I won’t say anything… I’ll never come back.” I don’t know why I thought it would make any difference, but seeing him there, a connection to my old life, caused the words to gush out like water from a fire hydrant, full of pressure and intent.

He didn’t get angry at my outburst, didn’t even seem to be surprised, as if it was expected of a woman destined to sexual servitude to try and beg for her freedom.

“I thought you were more intelligent than that, Lucia.” He said patiently. “You have an opportunity to embrace your fate. Uncertainty about your future has been removed. The hand of destiny has washed your past away like a rainstorm takes away scattered debris, leaving you with a clear path forward. You may think you don’t want it, but it will be the rest of your useful life…”

I couldn’t find anything to say as I looked at him shaking my head, thinking he was mad. He’d philosophised about how I should aspire to be one of them and when he had ruthlessly yanked that dream out from under me, he had the audacity to lecture me about accepting my future as his whore…

“You will do what we want. You will be available for whoever we demand, men or women. And you will serve them eagerly, to the best of your ability.” He continued in such a sweet voice, I could hardly reconcile it with the meaning of his words. “Your dislike of pain ensures this, as we have seen. You are young and adaptable, and will accept… and from recent reports you may even learn to enjoy your new… duties.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes, the callous way he was talking to me, the helplessness at my situation, the knowledge that I would do what he said… and might even be forced to find pleasure…

“Don’t cry, Lucia.” The smile in his voice, an almost mesmerizingly calm tone. “You are exquisite and will be one of our most valued girls. Starting today, we will change you in ways you could never have imagined. You will learn discipline and fortitude, along with many important skills. You may wonder what you did to deserve all this… You caught my eye. Your beauty and ambition, a combination I love to redirect for more entertaining purposes. All my office girls started exactly where you are right now. There is nothing I enjoy more than taking girls like you and showing you your true purpose, your real destiny, your actual value…”

“So from the start… you… you…” I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been, manipulated and controlled with this end in mind. It was all a game of cat-and-mouse and I was the innocent prey. How he must have laughed at every step of the way, using my own drive and determination against me. Realising that this really was my own fault felt like being punched in the stomach.

“Yes, Lucia. This is your genuine value, embrace it. Don’t fight…” His voice then took a hard cold edge. “But also know that you are expendable. There are hundreds more like you and if you become a problem to us, you are disposable… I’m sure we could find a role for your friend Angelique in this club. If you weren’t up to fulfilling your duties…”

In some ways, I had accepted their threat to my safety after all I’d endured. But the threat to my friend was a step too far, it had two important consequences. Firstly, I would do whatever I must to survive and not jeopardise my friend. But more importantly, his words lit a flame in my heart. I realised that I hated this man more that I had started loathing myself.

I vowed that I would get away and somehow get revenge on this monster who had corrupted everything I believed in. Not then, but sometime, when the chance arose. In the meantime, I would have to play their awful games, do what they wanted, pretend to be broken and obedient. But keep that small flickering flame alive, hoping that I didn’t lose it or myself in the process.

“Is there anything that is not clear?” The voice from the shadows.

I shook my head mutely, overwhelmed by his arrogance and his ruthlessness.

“Answer when you’re asked a question.” He growled. “Do you understand your role and your future?”

I hesitated for a moment then mumbled dejectedly “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. You got a note?” His voice suddenly sounding much softer, almost kind, if not for the exchange that had preceded his question.

“Yes, Sir.” I replied, realising I was still standing, with my hands behind my back, chest out and one foot in front of the other, posing for him in this slutty secretary uniform, like the instructions had required. And had been for the entire time I was in the room.


This was it. What I had been brought here for, the start of this new life. The choreography was simple, if demeaning.

“Would you like for me to dance for you, Sir.” I’m sure they knew that making me voice my actions, to seemingly willingly request to perform, made the entire ordeal even worse, even more humiliating.

“That would be nice.” He leant forward in the chair, expectantly. I could see his face as he came into the light, lecherous and amused.

I started waying slowly, writhing on my too high heels, knowing my legs were taught and my bottom thrust out. Swaying my hips to emphasise my posture, feeling my breasts wobbling from my movements in the up-thrusting bra under my blouse. I saw him lick his lips in anticipation, his eyes glued to my chest.

A flush of shame as I performed for this man. And more debilitating, as I realised that my body had started to respond to his blatant desire. Why would I be getting moist from this humiliation? My treacherous sex, getting off on being a slut or just preparing in self-defence for what I knew was going to happen next.

The instructions had been explicit, so I sashayed over to the couch and bent over, legs straight and parted, glancing enticingly at him over my shoulder as my hands sunk into the soft upholstery.  I could feel the skirt ride up on my backside, knowing the purple tabs of the garter belt suspenders must be showing against the pale skin of my upper thigh.

Another flush of embarrassment and a gush of my essence, as I wondered whether he could see my buttocks and the flimsy material hardly covering my crotch, hoping that he couldn’t see a darker spot that would betray my state, even as I felt the cold air on my skin and between my legs.  His look told me he was captivated by my performance, lust and longing on his face as he swallowed hard. But he didn’t move, enjoying my submission and my disgrace.

I hesitated because the next pose was even more lewd, but I couldn’t wait for too long, the instructions had been clear… I swivelled and sat, knees pinned demurely together as I looked back at him, forcing a seductive smile only my lips, crossing them elegantly and pausing in that discrete pose with my hands smoothing the stocking on my thighs. Murmuring as per the script “Do you like what you see, Sir”.

I could delay no longer and placing my hands on my knees, I spread them wide apart, forcing the skirt to ride up to my hips and expose my transparent lingerie to his gaze.  My worst fears were realised as I glanced down and saw the tell tail wet spot on the thin strip of material between my legs. I couldn’t look him in the eyes after that so stared at a point on the carpet midway between us.

“Very nice. Now look at me and open your blouse.”  His unequivocal instruction indicating that he was not going to let me retain a shred of dignity.

I took a deep breath, glanced up at him, trying not to show the horror and hate I felt, and slowly moved my hands up to undo the top button, and then the second and the third. On unbuttoning the last one, my hands almost moved as if by themselves to part the fabric and reveal bra-encased mounds.

I had always felt like I was the one in control of my sexuality and my body, that was until I joined this depraved company. The feeling of control I had over the men who desired me was incredibly seductive and arousing. Now the tables were entirely turned as I sat there numbly showing off my purple bra and panties to the man who had taken ownership of my body, who controlled me. I didn’t move, posing with my blouse hanging uselessly from my shoulders, my skirt bunched up around my hips, waiting for his next order.

“Show me everything. Take it off.” Curt, entitled, blunt…

My trembling fingers pulled the fragments apart, a wave of panic coursing through my body. I wanted to run, to get away, to escape this horrible ordeal… I hated having to expose myself to a man like this, but there was no other option. I slipped the soft fabric off my shoulders, in any other place it would have felt sensual, delicious. But not there.

“Come here.”

I’m not sure how I had any revulsion left, but I did. That instruction, knowing that this was about to get physical, made my stomach turn. But regardless, I slowly stood, about to push the too short, too tight skirt down, but the shake of his head stopped me.  I minced over to him, one foot in front of the other, like a lingerie model in a perverted fashion show, the heels enforcing my sultry gait.

“You like wearing sexy underwear?” His voice had a taunting edge. I pursed my lips and nodded, not looking at him, the intimate question feeling like a personal invasion, even though I was literally standing naked in front of him. “Turn around. Let me see you.”

I did, closing my eyes to shut out the shame. But even then, I felt his eyes seeming to touch me, over my back and lingering on my exposed backside, framed as they were by the garter straps and bisected by the thong.

“Spread your legs a bit and drop your panties to your knees.” His lust-laden voice, directing me… his sexualised mannequin.

I felt so exposed and helpless but slipped my hands up under the ruffled skirt and did as I was told. I had to bend over slightly to reach my knees, knowing that my labia must be pouting at him between my thighs. I could hear his breathing get heavier, telling me that he was appreciating the view.

“Stand still. Just like that.”

I stood there, frozen awkwardly, feet shoulder width apart, with my hands holding the skimpy panties at my knees, staring at the couch from where I had come. I therefore didn’t see the slap coming, just felt it land on my backside, the shock made me jump more than the pain, his hand remained caressing my flesh as if to sooth it. But I knew he didn’t have my interests at heart, only his own desires.

“Turn around.”

As I gracelessly unshuffled around, he let his hand trail across my hip and onto my flat stomach, just under the skirt and the garter belt I still wore. I flinched but did not move, as he slipped it between my thighs and let his finger trace the plump lips of my sex, finding the humiliating hint of moisture.  I blushed crimson and looked away when he smiled smugly.

“Yes, this is what you were meant to be. A needy little whore. Your body knows it. You’ll also accept it soon.”

A little chuckle escaped his lips as he grazed his finger over my clit. I shook my head in denial, even as s jolt of pleasure shot through me. He cupped my shaved pubis, his touch surprisingly gentle and explorative as he closely watched what he was doing to my pussy. A final stroke of the inside of my thigh, before his hand and gaze both rose up to my chest. He stuck his fingers under the cup and yanked my left breast out, causing the bra to distort the tender flesh upwards. His groping hand didn’t leave my precious mound, while his fingers found my erect nipple and worried at it, again causing unwanted sensations to tingle through my chest and the nub to harden even more.

“Pull down my trousers. It’s time.” He suddenly barked at me.

It felt like my knees were shaking, an involuntary response to the overwhelming emotion of what he wanted me to do and ultimately become. But I had sworn to myself that I would get through this, so acting almost mechanically, I leant over and unbuckled and unzipped his pants and pulled them halfway down his legs, as he shifted his hips to help. His cock bounced up at me. Already hard and expectant from the show I’d been made to endure.

“Keep your legs straight.” Snarled as he grabbed be by the back of the head and pulled my face down into his crotch, the head of his cock bumping my cheek. “Open.”

It smelt stale and acrid, the last thing I wanted in my mouth, but refusing was not an option. Dazed, I opened wide, wrapping my teeth in my lips and tongue to protect him, and ultimately myself from punishment. Because that’s what Coach had bashed into me as various men had thrust themselves into my face over the previous few days.

I heard his sharp intake of breath as my lips sealed around his shaft and my tongue dragged along the veined meat. It tasted and felt as awful as it smelled, but I persevered, knowing the only way to finish this was to make him cum. And hopefully avoid him raping me, again. So, I used all the skills I had learned in my life, which they said had been improved and perfected at their instruction.

At first my mouth was dry, as I tried to summon some saliva to lubricate the insistent pole driving towards my throat. It chafed the roof of my mouth, until it plugged my gullet, causing me to gag and produce some slime, which just eased his passage down my throat. My eyes watered with the invasion, as my throat became increasingly slippery. His hand continued to fondle my bosom as he bounced my head on his pulsating organ, guiding my speed and depth with his other hand wrapped in a clump of my hair.

“Oooooohh, yes. Good girl. I’ve been looking forward to using your mouth.” He grunted as he roughly used me. “You’re very talented. You will make an excellent whore.”

He released my hair, letting me thrust myself onto him and into my throat, swallowing all seven inches every time. But then I felt him pulling my skirt up even higher, I assumed to expose my upturned backside and the lacy garter belt for his visual enjoyment. I imagined what I looked like bobbing in his lap, legs straight and spread, like a giraffe at a water hole, but in this case not to quench my thirst, except with his thick salty cum.

He slapped my bottom a couple of times, my suppressed cries muffled by his organ, which only seemed to make him swell and harden as he groaned in pleasure at my suffering. After what seemed like ages, my back and throat aching with the exertion, he grabbed my head and held me down in his lap. His cock blocked my airway, not letting me breathe, but they had told me in no uncertain terms, that a whore’s oxygen is not more important than a man’s enjoyment.  My spasming gullet and my writhing tongue seemed to do what he needed, because I soon felt jets of hot spunk spraying my insides. I gulped frantically to try and prevent it from overflowing, managing to get most of it into my gut.

“Hmmmm. That was fun.” He growled as I pulled off and looked at him through sad watering eyes. “Let’s go over to the bed so I can continue to get to know my newest whore.”
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.
                                             You can find my portfolio of stories at

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #55 on: April 30, 2021, 12:16:04 PM »
Why did I expect her to actually thank him for everything he's done for her? love how she is questioning things but still snaps to attention when a male approaches her. Merit awarded from me!

Offline grendel

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Re: My Ambition
« Reply #56 on: May 03, 2021, 02:45:44 PM »
Continues to be very enjoyable ... I look forward to her final submission.  ;D
It's what they're FOR! 
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