Date: Sat, 24 Mar 2018 13:21:57 +1030
From: Amanda Stern <astern50@gmail.com>
Subject: Saving Amy (TG)

*SAVING AMY*

*To save a fellow kidnap victim, a young man agrees to become a maid for a
group of men. But the service they are expecting goes well beyond food and
drink ... *

*Please think of donating to help support this wonderful site, and if you
have any feedback, please don't hesitate to email me at astern50@gmail.com
<astern50@gmail.com>.*

=======================

As Eric came awake, he realised several things almost simultaneously - and
none of them good. He was naked. He was chained upright, against a cold
stone wall in what seemed to be some kind of cell. There was something
stuck in his bottom. And he had not the faintest idea of how he'd got here,
or where he'd been before this. A groan of terror and incomprehension
forced its way out of his throat.

The answering moan from away to his right told him something else. He was
not alone. Blinking, he strained in the dim light coming from the cell's
lone window to make out the figure that, like him, was naked and in chains.
It was a young woman, with blonde hair, her body slender and with small
breasts. She was staring at him with terrified eyes.

"Who ..." He struggled to clear his throat and managed to croak: "Who are
you? Why are we here?" But her only answer was another moan. With a shock
he realised that there was a red ball in her mouth, held there with some
kind of gag. He shook his head. There was something else ...

"Amy?" He said the name slowly, as if pulling it from the deepest recesses
of his memory. "Your name is Amy, right?" She nodded. Now how could he
possibly know that? Because ... because ...

"Wait, you were the waitress at the cafe, the one up the mountain." She
nodded again. It was coming back to him in fragments. He was on ... a
cycling holiday, that's right. He had left his car and belongings at a
nearby hotel, then cycled up the mountain - or as far up as the road would
take him. He had stopped at a cafe near the summit, a lonely place that
clearly didn't get a lot of visitors. Amy was the waitress who had served
him. He remembered her name because it was on her badge and, as he had
mentioned while they were chatting, she shared the name of a recent
ex-girlfriend. And also because, well, she was so incredibly cute.

But she didn't look cute now, so much as desperate and terrified. And he
couldn't for the life of him remember leaving the cafe, or indeed anything
since talking (or, to be truthful, flirting) with her there.

Before he could say anything further, a door opened in the opposite wall.
Light flooded in from the corridor outside and two of the biggest men he'd
ever seen entered the cell. One was older, his bushy beard and moustache
streaked with grey. The other was clean shaven, and might have been his
son. Both were dressed, incongruously, in black tuxedos. They must have
been specially tailored to fit such large frames. The men weren't just
tall, they were wide as well, as if they'd been built on a different scale
to normal humans. They dwarfed Eric, whose slim body was not much bigger
than Amy's.

"Oh good, you're awake", said the elder man. His voice was higher in tone
and more cultured than his appearance would have suggested. "Just about
time to get ready, I would say."

"Ready for what?" squeaked Eric. "What's going on? What are -"

The first man cut him off. "Seth, give her a slap please, make sure she
knows her place."

Eric swung round to look at Amy, fearful for what might happen to her. So
he was utterly unprepared for the stinging blow he received from the
younger man. Delivered casually with an open hand, it made his head ring.
He shook it, looked at the man who had struck him and opened his mouth to
protest. But something about the chilling stare from his assailant caused
him to stay silent.

The young man nodded. "That's better, princess. You speak when you're
spoken to. All yours dad." He stepped aside for the older man, who moved
closer to Eric and looked him up and down. He clearly wasn't impressed by
what he saw.

"Not much of a man, are you?" Eric shivered as the father ran his fingers
across the cyclist's waxed chest. "No hair on you. And pretty much nothing
down here either." This time Eric gasped as his genitals were roughly
fondled, though the memory of the blow he had received kept him from saying
anything. His small cock seemed to shrivel even further under the man's
scornful attention.

"Well, girly type like you, I'd say we have the perfect job for you to do.
See, me and my friends are having a dinner tonight, and we need a maid for
what you might call special service. Now we have two choices for that role.
We could use little Amy over there" - he gestured at the chained girl -
"and let me tell you, that's very tempting. She's a sweet thing, isn't she?"

He walked over to the blonde, who tried to cringe away from him. But like
Eric, she was held fast by the chains around her wrists, ankles, waist and
neck. Stooping down, he reached between her legs and probed her hairless
slit with a huge finger. As he brought the finger up to his nose and
sniffed it appreciatively, Amy whimpered.

"Mmmm", the bearded giant said, turning back to Eric. "I could definitely
have some of that. Thing is though, I'm a little afraid she might be a bit
too fragile for myself and my guests. You know, I'm worried she might ...
split, or something. And, truth be told, we do like a bit of boy pussy when
we can get it. Especially when they're as pretty as you. Isn't that right
Seth?"

"Getting hard just thinking about it dad", said his son, slapping the
sizeable bulge in his trousers.

"However", continued his father, "we don't believe in exploiting our hired
help. So we've already paid this little slut's family very handsomely for
her services, isn't that right darling?" He swung round to look at the
girl, who nodded miserably. "So she doesn't get a say. But you do." For the
first time since he had entered the cell, the man smiled. It was not a
pleasant sight.

"So here's the deal. You can let the girl do the job she's been paid for -
and watch everything we do to her. You can even join in if you like, though
frankly I doubt" - he flicked another disdainful glance at Eric's groin -
"that you'd be up to it."

He shrugged. "Or, you can take her place. It's entirely your decision,
princess. But time is, as they say, marching on. So what's it to be?"

He stared at Eric, whose bowels were knotted with fear. The captive glanced
at Amy,. Her eyes with bright with tears. Behind the ball gag, her face had
a pleading expression. He looked back at his tormentor, and nodded. There
was really no other decision to make.

The giant showed no surprise. "Good call. Now, let's get you ready."
Working quickly, he unlocked all but one of the chains that held Eric in
place. He grabbed the remaining one, which was looped around the young
cyclist's neck, and led Eric out of the cell, down a corridor and then up
some straits. They appeared to be in some sort of mansion. Eric cupped his
hands around his genitals, desperately trying to preserve some modesty,
though no one else was around.

As they walked, the older man turned round and said conversationally, "Just
remember, we have the girl. Any wrong move from you, even a word out of
place, she gets punished. Is that understood? Say yes, sir." Eric complied,
his tone flat and dejected.

He was led to a small dressing room, in which another young woman was
waiting. Like Amy, whom she resembled, she wore a ball gag that prevented
her from speaking, though she did at least have clothes on. She was also
chained by her ankle to a hook in the wall, though with enough freedom to
move around.

"This is Nancy, Amy's sister", said the older man. He transferred Eric's
chain to his wrist, attached it to another wall hook and steered his
captive into a chair in front of a dressing table. "She's doing the cooking
for us tonight, but before that she's got the job of making you
presentable. You know what to do", he said to the girl, "just ring when
you're ready."

As the door closed behind him, Eric thought about trying to get some
information from Nancy, but she seemed to know what he was about to do. She
shook her head and contrived by pointing and miming to indicate that others
might be listening. He nodded in resignation to show that he understood.

She gave him several tablets to take, shaking her head at his mute inquiry
to indicate either that she didn't know what was in them, or couldn't say.
He hesitated and then, the warning about what might happen to Amy ringing
in his ears, gulped them down with some water. As whatever he'd taken did
its work, he felt himself relax. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
He also felt the beginnings of a strange tingling in his groin, but
resolved to ignore it, as he did the discomfort of sitting on whatever had
been inserted into his back passage. Feeling quite docile now, he watched
Nancy go to work.

First, she applied makeup to his face. Working quickly and skilfully, she
covered his face and neck with a series of powders and creams that seemed
to soften the contours of his angular face. His eyes were accentuated by
purple and black eyeshadow, together with false lashes. She added a bright
pink lipstick and proceeded to paint both his fingernails and toenails in
the same colour.

While the nails were drying, she removed the small silver earrings that
Eric affected and replaced them with black and gold pendants, on the ends
of which hung little black skirts. A platinum blonde wig followed, which
Nancy glued into place over his much shorter brown hair. Then she used the
same glue to attach large, flesh-coloured breastforms to Eric's hairless
chest. They looked amazingly lifelike.

The young man - though his appearance was now strongly suggesting to the
contrary - wondered how easy, if at all, it would be to get any of these
items off. The fact that after a few minutes Nancy could tug on the wig and
jiggle the fake boobs without dislodging them suggested that they were a
less temporary addition than he would have liked.

Next came the clothes. These started with a pair of fishnet stockings,
which Nancy rolled up his legs. Their lacy, elasticated tops held them in
place on his upper thighs. The fact that his legs were fully shaven made
the stockings both easier to get on and much more appealing to look at. He
had taken to waxing his legs because, well, that's what keen cyclists did.
But he had extended the practice to the rest of his body because he loved
the feeling of being so smooth. What he hadn't counted on - but perhaps his
captors had? - was the advantage it would provide when wearing female
clothing.

Nancy handed him a pair of black satin thongs to put on. Eric was relieved
to finally cover his groin, but was less enchanted to discover the slit at
the back that exposed his asshole, and whatever was currently occupying it.
The object seemed somehow to be slowly expanding, opening him up in a way
that he was sure did not bode well. By feeling behind him he had
ascertained that it was taped in place, though he hadn't dared trying to
remove the tape or to find out exactly what was underneath.

The main piece of his costume followed. It was a babydoll dress made of a
dark mesh, with a white lace pattern and edging. A white satin apron hung
down in the front from the waistband. Nancy tied the halter around his
neck, pulling it up so that it lifted his fake breasts. The nipples were
clearly visible through the see-through material, as was the black thong.
The skirt sat an inch or two above his stocking tops, leaving a strip of
creamy skin between.

For his arms, there were long, fingerless gloves, made of satin and trimmed
at each end with a mixture of black and white lace, though he had to leave
one of them off for now because of the chain on his wrist.

The outfit was completed with black high-heeled shoes, with an open toe
that ensured his pink nails were visible through the fishnet, and ankle
straps that Nancy locked in place with a little key. As with the wig and
breasts, Eric wondered how difficult it might be to get them off afterwards.

He could stand well enough in the unfamiliar heels, though walking was no
easy matter. Nancy, however, gave him a demonstration of how to take small
steps, place one foot right in front of the other and sway his hips. Even
with the chain that restrained him, he was able to pace the length of the
small room and then retrace his path. After a few minutes of practising, he
was feeling more confident. Nancy gave him a nod of approval and then took
him over to a floor length mirror.

He had seen glimpses of his new appearance, but the full sight took his
breath away. He was unrecognisable as the man who had been brought to the
house unconscious and against his bidding. But to say he looked like a
woman in a maid's costume would not do justice to the transformation. He
had somehow become a blonde bimbo, oozing sluttiness from the tips of his
painted nails to the long tresses that only partially concealed what
appeared to be a magnificent pair of boobs. Even the O of surprise that
parted his pink lips seemed to invite penetration.

While Eric stared blankly at the image, groin tingling anew, Nancy pushed a
buzzer. A few seconds later Seth was back. "Fucking hell", he breathed as
he stared over Eric's shoulder at the reflection. Then, shaking himself, he
tossed a sheaf of papers onto the dresser and unshackled Nancy. Nodding at
the papers, he said: "You've got half an hour to do your homework,
princess. But you'd better learn your lines carefully. Every mistake you
make, it's ten lashes for the little blonde cunt down in the cellar. And
we're not talking eyelashes either. C'mon bitch."

This last was to Nancy, who cried out as he jerked the chain he had
attached to her neck and pulled her out of the room. As the door closed
behind them, Eric tore his eyes from the mirror and picked up the papers.
His eyes widened as he read, and for a minute it seemed he was about to try
and flee. But then the reality of his situation reasserted itself. He sat
down, gave a sigh of relief as his calves relaxed from the strain of
standing in heels, and tried to concentrate on what he had to learn.

Thirty minutes later, the door opened again. It was Seth's father.. His
eyes widened as he looked at his captive. "Shit - and I thought my son was
exaggerating! You are so hot, I reckon my dick might catch fire." He
grinned. "The boys are going to love you ... Now, let's make sure you're
right to go. What's your name, honey?"

The maid previously known as Eric swallowed nervously, even though this was
an easy one. "Tiffany", she said, then hesitated. The bearded man was
staring at her, as if waiting for something. What was she forgetting? With
a start, she remembered. "Sir. I mean Tiffany, sir."

The man nodded slowly. "Let's try another question. How old are you?" This
time the maid was a little more confident. "Old enough for you to fuck me,
sir."

That prompted a smile, though somehow one that didn't reach the man's eyes.
"So, am I safe unlocking you, Tiffany?" he asked. "You understand what
we'll do to Amy if you somehow escape? Plus what we'll be slicing off you
if you try to get away but don't succeed?"

The maid nodded her head vigorously. "Yes sir, I understand, really I do."

"All right then", he said, removing the chain from her wrist and allowing
her to put on the second glove. "One last thing to do", he announced. "Bend
over sweetie."

Tiffany complied, following the instruction in the manual she'd been given
by keeping her legs straight, bending forward from the waist and lifting
her short skirt so that her bottom was exposed. The man ran his hands
appreciatively over her backside, then reached through the slit in the
panties and stripped away the tape that held the butt plug in place, though
he left the toy where it was. "This stays in place until you're told
otherwise, got that?"

"Yes sir", she answered meekly, her voice muffled.

He took a remote control from his pocket, switched it on and tapped a
button. A faint buzz could be heard. Tiffany yelped in surprise as the
vibrator started do its work. "Shut the fuck up", said the man, though
there was no particular irritation in his voice. "That's the lowest setting
... for now. You'll have to get used to it. Just concentrate on your duties
- or you know what will happen. Now, come with me."

"Yes, sir", repeated Tiffany. She followed him as he led her through the
house to a dining room, trying desperately to ignore the stimulation in her
backside. He took her to a dining room with a table that was set for eight,
with a small hand bell next to each place. He pointed to a drinks cabinet
off to one side. "Pour some beers and some champagne, and offer them to the
guests as they arrive", he instructed. "They'll be here shortly."

He left the room. The maid hesitated, then did as she was told and prepared
a tray of drinks. It was not long before the first group arrived, all in
formal evening wear. There were four of them, not counting the two she'd
already encountered. As one, they stopped dead and stared at her. "Holy
fuck Vance", said the oldest of the newcomers, addressing his question to
the bearded giant. "Who is *that*?"

"Say hello to Tiffany, boys", replied her captor. "C'mon honey, don't be
shy", he said to the maid, beckoning her forward. "These men are thirsty -
especially old Patrick there, if I know anything about him."

She did as she was told, offering them a glass each from the tray. "Where
are you from darling", asked one of the younger arrivals. She guessed that
he might be Patrick's son.

"I'm from Slut School, sir", she responded, dropping her eyes and unable to
stop a blush showing even through all the powder caked on her face. The men
burst into raucous laughter. "So what did you study there, baby?" inquired
another of the younger men. Like the others he was strongly built, with a
body much larger than hers - though not quite as massive as Vance or Seth.

Before she could answer, someone suggested that the answer might be
"streetwalking". This prompted a flurry of alternatives, each more ribald
than the last, until Vance waved for silence. "Give the poor girl a
chance", he said. "Well Tiffany?"

"It was Advanced Cocksucking, sir", she offered, her cheeks burning with
shame. The hilarity this time was even more unbridled. In the middle of it,
the final two guests arrived, which prompted a recap, yet more amusement,
then a further round of questions.

Finally, Vance called an end to the fun and bade everyone sit down at the
table. Tiffany was sent off to the kitchen. Nancy, ball gag still in her
mouth, was busy putting out the first course.

As the maid began relaying plates to the dining room, she reflected that
she hadn't done too badly with the pre-dinner drinks. She'd remembered
pretty well all her lines, and when asked something that hadn't been
anticipated in the instructions, had improvised successfully. It wasn't
hard after all to figure out the theme.

But she had slipped with one response. Asked by the eldest of the men,
Patrick, as to whether her boobs were real, she'd totally blanked on the
scripted answer, and simply told him they weren't. The reply should have
been "No, but if you tell me what cup size you want sir, I'll book in for
surgery." A quick glance at Vance's glower made it clear that he had picked
up the slip. Even in the more docile and compliant state produced by
whatever drugs she had been given, she knew that this was a reason for
concern.

It was not until Tiffany returned to the kitchen with the first batch of
dirty plates that the price for her mistake was revealed. With a nudge,
Nancy drew her attention to the big colour monitor on the wall. It had
previously shown the dining room, but now it showed a cell, perhaps the one
in which, as Eric, the maid had awoken earlier.

Amy was there, but she was no longer chained to the wall. Instead her arms
and legs were tied to a giant metal cross, in the shape of an X. As Tiffany
watched, horrified, a hooded figure in black leather (perhaps another
woman?) came up behind her, wielding a large black riding crop. Without
warning, she swung it hard against the young waitress' naked buttocks.
There was no sound, but the convulsive jerk of the young girl's body was
quite enough to convey the agony of the blow. Nine more followed, each one
raising an angry red welt on the girl's behind.

Long before the flogging was finished, it was clear from her shaking body
that Amy was sobbing. And so too was Tiffany. Nancy did her best to comfort
the distressed maid. She gently wiped the tears from Tiffany's face and,
radiating sympathy, drew her attention back to the screen, which was once
again displaying the dining room. Tiffany nodded to show that she
understood - she had to get back there. She took a minute to compose
herself, then headed off, vowing that she would do whatever it took to
protect the hapless Amy. She would not make another mistake - she *must*
 not.

As she re-entered the dining room, her hips swaying in the high heels to
which she was starting to feel strangely accustomed, a bell sounded from
the table. She faltered briefly, then took a deep breath and walked over to
the young man who had rung it, a mean-faced character who she thought was
called Larry. "Yes sir", she said in a clear voice, the scripted response
clear in her mind. "Would you like another drink, or would you like me to
suck your cock?" She even managed, somehow, to squeeze out a smile.

After the predictable uproar had died down, Larry announced to general
amusement that another beer would do just fine, thanks, but he'd get back
to her later on the other matter. As the night went on, she gave the same
response each time a bell was rung. The men grew drunker and rowdier, and
more than once she was invited to sit on a guest's lap. She complied on
each occasion and had to suffer their hands roaming over her or her false
tits - though none of them, she noticed, tried to reach inside her
knickers. It was clear they knew what she was. That one part at least they
wanted nothing to do with.

If there was a problem at this stage, it was ignoring the vibrator in her
butt, which had been going the whole evening. Although she had started to
get used to it, and even to enjoy the sensation, it was a distraction she
could ill afford. A sudden lift in its speed and intensity at one point, no
doubt induced by Vance, caused her to spill some wine she was trying to
pour for Seth. In accordance with her instructions, she was forced to
apologise and ask for a spanking. The young giant duly delivered this to
her while she lay across his lap, each slap cheered by the other guests. He
used only his bare hand, but even so it was enough to redden her bottom and
bring tears to her eyes.

Tiffany knew that much worse was to come. So, gritting her teeth, she got
on with her duties, reminding herself over and over that she was doing this
to spare the innocent girl who was still, as far as she knew, strapped to
that hideous iron cross elsewhere in the house. Even so, it came as a
surprise when, after clearing away the desserts, her ritual response to
another bell from Larry was met with the fateful words "You can suck my
cock now darling."

She stared at him, as the room resounded yet again with cheers. He leered
back at her, then shifted his chair sideways, opened his legs and pointed
to the spot between them. She glanced at Vance, who nodded once. With a
sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she knelt down, grateful for the
soft carpet. With trembling hands, she fumbled to undo the buttons on
Larry's black trousers. She was aware of the others gathering around her,
but she did her best to ignore them.

As she freed Larry's already semi-erect cock from inside his underwear,
there was a roar of approval. It was circumcised and fairly long, certainly
larger than her own little appendage, but nothing like what she had seen in
the occasional porn films she'd watched. She hesitated, but then, recalling
what she'd seen some of the actresses do in those movies, ran her tongue up
and down each side of the shaft. This seemed to meet with acclaim both from
its owner and her audience, so she did it again, this time flicking her
tongue over and around the purple head.

It didn't smell good and it certainly didn't taste good either. But Tiffany
suppressed her revulsion. She couldn't afford it - and nor could Amy. Here
goes nothing, she thought, as she opened her mouth and engulfed the head.
As she clamped her lips around it, being as careful as she could not to
bring her teeth to bear, she felt it swell. Wrapping a fist round it, she
started to bob her head up and down, doing her best to ignore the insistent
thought: *I've got a man's cock in my mouth*!

Her eyes were closed tight, but as she worked away she felt a tug on her
wig. Opening her eyes and twisting her head sideways, her mouth still busy,
she saw Vance's face close to her own. He jerked a thumb towards Larry and
said "Eyes up honey, understand?"

She stopped her sucking, said "Yes sir" and resumed her work. But now she
did her best to keep her eyes fixed on Larry's face. It was not a pretty
sight. But she tried to look through him, to blank out the encouragement
from the men around him, and simply to focus on delivering what was her
first blowjob - but not, she was quite sure, her last.

If anything, the biggest problem right now was the vibrator. It had been
turned up another couple of notches and was now whirring away, sending
jolts of pleasure through a sensitive spot on her prostate. She had the
distinct feeling that she was being massaged to an orgasm of her own. And
yet her little cocklet lay inert in its satin pouch, betraying not a hint
of arousal. It was all she could do not to reach between her legs and try
to rub it into life.

She was dimly aware of the other men chanting, and that a pair of hands had
seized her head, driving it down ever harder and faster. She had no idea of
whether they were Larry's or belonged to someone else - and she didn't
care. She was only interested in finishing the task she had been given.

Still, it came as a surprise when the cock in her mouth bucked and spat.
The first two or three spurts went straight down her throat. She wanted
then to open her mouth and scream, but the hands held her in place. It was
a mercy that in her momentary panic she did not bite down on the fleshy
intruder. As it was, it continued to pulse, covering her tongue with cream.
The taste was salty and unfamiliar, not unpleasant in itself, only in its
implications.

Opening her eyes, she looked up to see Larry, a savage grin on his face. He
was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear it over the baying of
the others around him. She wanted then to spit his seed back into his face.
But there behind him was Vance, and the implacable look on the giant's face
reminded her of what was expected.

Using her lips and tongue, Tiffany squeezed the last drops of spunk from
the head of the rapidly deflating cock, then did her best to clean it. The
hands had left her head, and she was able now to open her mouth. Drawing a
ragged breath and looking up at Larry, she said in as clear a voice as she
could muster: "Thank you sir. May I swallow your cum?" She held her tongue
out to display the creamy residue of his pleasure. At his gleeful nod, she
tipped her head back and ostentatiously gulped it down.

The pandemonium that followed only ended when Vance insisted they all
retire into the billiard room. Tiffany was sent to get brandy. When she
walked into the room with a decanter and glasses, legs shaking as she
endeavoured to withstand the continuing stimulation in her backside, she
found the men relaxing on a series of comfortable couches that were arrayed
around a billiard table. To her complete lack of surprise, at least half of
them had their cocks out.

When she had finished serving the drinks, Vance made her sit on a stool in
front of the couches. The guests took turns to stand in front of her and
fuck her face, while she was expected to use her hands to wank those
standing on either side of her. None of them was poorly endowed, though
only two of the men she was forced to service caused her any problem - or
at least any problem beyond the trauma of having to do this at all.

One was Patrick. The old man's dick was not that long, but it was so thick
that she struggled to fit its girth into her mouth. And it smelled the
worst, the aroma so noxious an assault on her nostrils that it was all she
could do not to throw up.

The other problem was Seth. He was far bigger than the others and he
delighted in forcing his massive weapon down her throat. The more she
gagged and retched, the more he seemed to like it. He was also the first to
avoid climaxing in her mouth, insisting instead on spraying all over her
face and her fake tits. She was able to wipe some of it off and, as
instructed, to ingest it after seeking permission. But he insisted that
some be left where it was. The next two men that she sucked to orgasm did
likewise, with the result that she was left with cum dribbling down her
chin, pooling in her cleavage and staining her uniform.

She was also struggling with the vibrator's relentless assault on her anal
passage. Sitting down on the butt plug had increased its effect and she
quickly experienced the first of what became a series of - well, she could
only think of them as anti-climaxes. On each occasion, she would experience
the build-up of pressure that seemed to herald an orgasm. But while semen
would dribble out of her flaccid member, there would be no sense of release
- and the process would then repeat.

If her mouth had not been so full of rigid flesh, and the threat of
reprisals to Amy not still uppermost in her mind, she would have screamed
in frustration. As it was, she was left panting and frantic, a reaction
most of the men clearly misconstrued as a response to their own lustful
virility. Patrick commented to general acclaim that he had "never seen a
whore so hungry for cock".

Finally, when all but Vance had emptied their seed into her mouth or over
her face and chest, she was told to climb up onto the billiard table. As
she did so, she could feel her own juices dripping down her legs.
Fortunately, none of the men seemed to notice.

For the first time that night, Vance himself unbuttoned his pants. She
gasped at the size of what he had been hiding in there. It dwarfed even his
son's heroic appendage. She wondered if she would be able to fit even a
third of it in her mouth. But she was given no chance to find out.

"Turn around", said Vance lazily, twirling his finger. For a moment, she
didn't understand. When she did, she gaped at him in shock. But a raised
eyebrow was all it took to have her rotating her body, so that her bottom
was facing him. He got her to splay her legs wide on the green baize, then
push her butt down and back, so that it protruded out over the edge of the
billiard table.

She started as she felt him lift her skirt, then tug at the butt plug. The
thick bulb resisted for a moment, so firmly was it implanted. But she used
her rectal muscles to help expel it and it came free with an audible plop,
the vibrator in it still buzzing away.

After the torment it had been causing her, Tiffany would have expected to
feel nothing but relief at the removal of the toy. Yet her overwhelming
sense was one of emptiness. She was profoundly grateful to be spared its
ceaseless stimulation. But its absence also left a void that now ached to
be filled. So when Vance demanded: "Tell us what you want, honey", her
response was in some very small part born out of her need, and not just his
expectation.

The answer was lost in the clamour of the other men, but Vance brought the
room to silence and demanded she repeat it. Her voice was a mixture of fear
and desperation as she said for a second time: "Please fuck me master."

As uproar reigned once again, Tiffany felt Vance reach into her sodden
panties, then smear something around and into her gaping asshole. With a
shock she realised that he was using her own spunk as a lubricant. So he
for one had known of - and indeed had almost certainly expected - her
shameful discharges.

She tried to ready herself for what she knew would happen next - and for
what every other person in the room was now begging to see. But nothing
could possibly have prepared her for the pressure that was suddenly applied
to her rectum. Even expanded as it had been by the butt plug, it seemed
impossible that it could accommodate Vance's monster cock. She would have
endeavoured to crawl away, but his gigantic hands had a vice-like grip on
her hips. As he sought to pull her back onto him and simultaneously thrust
inside her, she thought her sphincter was going to be torn asunder and she
moaned in terror.

A sharp slap to her behind stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. But the
words that accompanied the blow were surprisingly gentle, and also quiet
enough so that only she could hear them. "That's okay sweetie, just relax
and you'll be okay. You won't burst. Just relax and stop fighting it." Even
in her frantic state, they cut through her panic. She took a deep breath
and then made a conscious effort to loosen her muscles, to accept rather
than reject the intruder.

And then the improbable happened. Her ring had somehow stretched enough to
admit him. Even so, the pressure and pain of it made her whimper. He pushed
a short way inside, then withdrew. But the relief was short-lived. He
applied more of her cum to the abused entrance, added some of his own spit
for good measure, then tried again. After half a dozen attempts he had
finally managed to get a few inches inside her - and opened her enough so
that he could start to thrust in and out.

Tiffany was in such a daze of distress, both physical and mental, that she
could not be sure at what point she began to push her butt back towards the
man who was fucking her. Yet as his pounding began to catch that spot on
her prostate that the vibrator had been so ruthlessly exploiting, she was
shocked to realise that she was actually helping him to push further inside
her - and that her whimpers were beginning to sound like moans of pleasure.

Even stretched as it was, and far from able to accommodate Vance's full
length, Tiffany's cum and spit greased ass was now loose enough to allow
him to lift his tempo. As his rampant cock began to piston in and out of
her with increasing speed, she once again felt the pressure building
towards an orgasm of her own. The violation she was experiencing was too
intensely wrong for her to enjoy it. And yet as some animalistic level, she
also knew that she was willingly submitting to this dominant male.

When her climax arrived, it was as frustratingly incomplete as those that
had preceded it. Nevertheless, as fluid leaked out of her shrivelled organ,
she moaned as if she had found true release. And then Vance was adding his
own groans to hers. She gasped as his convulsive thrusts penetrated so far
inside her that she feared she would rupture. She imagined rather than felt
the jets of hot cum spurting into her. But a spreading warmth deep inside
confirmed that he had asserted his dominion over her in the most profound
of ways.

As his friends cheered, the big man paused for a moment, locked inside his
prize. Then he casually withdrew his monstrous weapon, retrieved the
discarded butt plug and stuffed it back into the maid's wide open anus,
sealing his massive discharge before it could leak out. She was relieved to
find that the vibrator was now off. But her respite lasted only a moment.
He lifted her down as easily as if she was a child and bent her over the
billiard table, her legs splayed. "Who's next?" he called.

Before Tiffany could draw breath, and even begin to take in what had
happened to her, it was happening again. The butt plug slid smoothly out,
to be replaced by another cock. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that it
belonged to Patrick. Thick as he was, he could not match Vance's massive
girth, so that he slid in and out with surprising ease. He also seemed to
have no compunction about using his host's spunk as lubricant - and before
long he was adding to it with some of his own.

For the next hour or more, the men took turns to fuck the maid, some more
than once. After a quiet but threatening reminder from Vance, she made sure
to beg each one for their big cocks and to fill her with their cum. This
they did, to the point where she had a constant stream of it gushing from
her ass and pooling on the slate floor. From time to time she would be
forced to get down on her knees and lick this up, a process which gave her
aching legs a rest but left her feeling sick to the point of nausea.

With most of the men, it was simply a matter of enduring the pounding that
her ass would take as they slapped against her behind, or the painful way
they tended to grab her as they prepared to come. Physically, at any rate,
she was no longer suffering any internal discomfort, so thoroughly was she
now stretched and greased. But some of them would still occasionally hit
that spot on her prostate, the one that lifted her to the unsatisfying
climax - though it was dry now, her balls having apparently run out of
sperm to produce.

She felt like nothing so much as a sex doll. When she had been serving them
at dinner, the guests had stroked and fondled her, complimented her looks,
teased her, laughed at her discomfort. It had not been nice, by any means,
but she had clearly interacted with them as a human being. Even when she
was giving them blowjobs, she could at least feel she was arousing them.
But now, as they queued up to take her from behind, she was little more
than an object to be used and discarded, a vessel in which they could plant
their seed and then withdraw to compare notes about who had fucked her the
hardest and longest.

The pattern was broken, however, in the most unexpected and shocking way.
She was having to endure a characteristically brutal penetration from Seth,
when she heard a plaintive voice cry: "Hey, when do we get our turn?"

Craning her neck round, Tiffany was stunned to see Amy walking into the
room, with Nancy close behind. The ball gag was gone, and the young
waitress was no longer naked. But nor was she conventionally dressed. She
wore only a diaphanous robe that concealed very little of her lithe body.
Nancy was similarly attired. They grinned and waved their hands to
acknowledge the catcalls and wolf whistles of the assembled men - though it
was noticeable that none of them tried to touch the two young women.

While Tiffany stared at her in disbelief, Amy walked up to Seth and put a
companionable arm around his waist, though she had to reach up a fair way
do that. "Hey sis", he grunted, still plunging his sizeable cock into the
maid's rear end. "You want a piece of this bitch?"

"In a minute", said Amy, a disconcerting grin on her face. "You can finish
first." She walked over to Tiffany, bent down close to her head and planted
a lingering kiss on the maid's lips. "That's for being so sweet and taking
my place - not that I was ever going to be entertaining these fuckwits, but
of course you weren't to know that."

A couple of paces took her behind Tiffany, whose quivering buttocks she
stroked for a minute, before delivering a ringing slap that caused the maid
to exclaim with pain and surprise. "And *that* is for remembering far too
many of your lines. I was looking forward to a really good thrashing - and
I only got ten strokes." She pouted in mock dismay.

"You'll have to excuse my daughter", said Vance, coming up to stand by the
young blonde and rest his hand on her shoulder. "I'm afraid she has rather
perverse tastes in sex. My fault I'm sure."

"You only say that because she doesn't like men", added Nancy. She too was
now stroking Tiffany's behind, while all the while Seth continued to pound
it.

"That's right", said Amy lightly, "but I do make an exception for sissies -
especially one as pretty as this. C'mon Seth, hurry it up, my pussy's
getting all wet just looking at her."

"Nearly there", gasped Seth, and soon after he was injecting yet another
stream of sperm into the maid's already flooded passage. As soon as he was
done, Amy hauled herself up onto the table. Sitting on the edge, she opened
both her gown and her legs and peremptorily ordered Tiffany to lick her
out.

It occurred to the captive that with the threat to the young waitress (if
that was even what she was) exposed as a sham, there was now nothing to
stop her from running away. Nothing, that is, except the fact that she was
in a unknown location, dressed in a cum-sodden maid's uniform and made up
to look like a tramp, and with no phone or wallet. Plus of course she would
have to get past eight men, any one of whom could quickly overpower her.

So she did as she was told, and applied her oral skills - something she did
actually possess, courtesy of a very demanding ex-girlfriend - first to the
young girl's dripping cunt, then to that of her sister. When both had
reached enthusiastic orgasms, Amy insisted on a second go, this time with
Vance simultaneously fucking the sissy maid. There was clearly something
about the sight of her father plunging his massive organ into Tiffany's
uptilted ass that turned the blonde girl on. She bucked and screamed,
clutching the maid's blonde wig as she ground her crotch into the maid's
face.

Tiffany was expecting the other men to join in. But the grief glances she
could spare from the task of lapping at Amy's pussy showed the guests
keeping their distance. Plainly, anything with Vance's daughters involved
was off limits to them.

With a roar, Vance emptied himself inside Tiffany. His extra size had once
again done what most of the others could not. It had filled her up and
brought her to one last unsatisfying climax. His cries were soon being
echoed by his daughter, as she came again and again under the attention of
the exhausted maid.

And then, suddenly, it was over. Vance casually wiped his gigantic dick on
Tiffany's face, buttoned up and then went back to his guests, who were
enjoying a final drink. Tiffany was led away by Amy and Nancy, who took her
back to the dressing room. Her shoes were unlocked and she was allowed to
peel off her uniform, almost every fibre of which seemed to be drenched in
cum. They gave her some warm towels to clean herself with and then did
their best to comb the worst of the accumulated gobs of spunk out of the
matted hair on her wig. But the wig itself stayed where it was, as did the
fake boobs, glued on as they were.

As she helped Tiffany to clean up, Amy said admiringly: "You did
brilliantly honey. I've never heard them so happy with one of daddy's
dinner gifts."

"Dinner gifts?" said the gift herself, her voice wary. She didn't quite
know what to make of Amy, who had gone from being a fellow victim to one of
her captors and tormentors - yet was behaving as if they had simply
undergone some kind of fun activity together. She was plainly a gifted
actress, but Tiffany wondered even so if she was quite right in the head.

"Oh yes", put in Nancy. Although she seemed from her looks to be the older
of the sisters, it was also apparent that she routinely deferred to her
sibling. "Sometimes they'll hire a young man to come and be the special
maid. You know, someone who's into that kind of thing. But more often than
not they just go and ... well, find one they like the look of." She had the
grace to look embarrassed as she said this and could not meet Tiffany's
eye. "Anyway", she continued, "they have this special dining club, and
daddy's job each time is to ... provide the entertainment. He founded the
club, you see."

Tiffany didn't see at all. The whole thing sounded monstrous and she vowed
that as soon as she could get away, she would go straight to the police.
But there turned out to be several obstacles to this plan.

For one thing, she wasn't given Eric's male clothes to put on. Instead the
girls insisted on repairing her makeup and dressing her in a new outfit.
There was a set of bra and panties in black lace, together with a matching
suspender belt, to which sheer stockings were attached. A black mesh top,
through which the lacy bra was plainly visible, was matched with a tight
red skirt. The ensemble was completed with black and red high-heeled pumps.
Tiffany groaned as she saw these, as her calves were already aching from
the unfamiliar heels she'd been wearing all evening. But she put them on
without demur.

The bigger problems became evident when the girls led Tiffany to see Vance,
who was sitting alone in the dining room in front of a laptop. There was no
sign of Seth or the other guests. The big man gave an approving nod when he
saw Tiffany. "Very sexy", he commented, and something about the comment
made her blush.

He tossed her a small silver bag, with a shoulder-strap. As she caught it,
he said "Your hotel key is in there. All your possessions will be waiting
for you. Now come here, there are a couple of things I want to show you."
Obediently, she joined him at the table. He turned the laptop so that she
could see the screen.

"That", he said, "is your bank account. You'll see the balance is a lot
larger than it was this morning. We've paid you a fee for your services
that we feel compensates you for your inconvenience - plus a bonus for a
job well done."

Tiffany blinked, looked at the amount and blinked again. She wanted to tell
him that she wouldn't take his money. Only there was such a lot of it ...
She swallowed and said in as neutral a voice as she could muster: "Thank
you sir."

He nodded and continued. "Now you might be thinking of going to the cops
and telling them some story about how you ended up working for us. But by
the time you could do that, we'll be long gone from this house. We were
only renting it - same with the cafe. And none of the names you've heard
today are our own. Besides, that is not a conversation you want to have."

He tapped a button and a video started playing on the computer screen. It
showed Nancy applying makeup to Eric, as he was then. To Tiffany's horror,
it cut forward to a scene of the fully transformed maid enthusiastically
sucking off one of the dinner guests, while using her hands on two other
cocks. Each of the men's faces were carefully blurred. Hers was completely
visible. She had no idea of where the cameras had been, but they had
certainly had a clear view

"This is part of a movie we've made for our private enjoyment", continued
Vance - or whatever his real name was. "But if you wish, we'd be happy to
give it a public release. You understand me?" Tiffany gave a miserable nod.

"Good", said the bearded man. "And you might want to think about this too.
We put on quite a few of these events around the country - and I can
guarantee your services would be in great demand. The money you've made
today would only be the start ... Anyway, here's our card if you decide you
want to be Tiffany again."

He held out a business card. Tiffany hesitated, then took it from him. She
glanced at it, coloured a little, then put it in her handbag. It contained
the words "Sissyfuckers Club" in a bold font and an email address.

"And now", Vance continued, standing up, "it's time for us to bid you
farewell. We'll take you to a nearby road and from there I'm afraid you'll
have to hitchhike you way home. There won't be a lot of traffic, but you do
get the odd truck along. I'm sure that, especially dressed like that, you
can negotiate something with the driver."

As the girls led Tiffany away, they were still chortling - and not for the
first time that day, her cheeks were burning with shame and embarrassment.
She had arrived as Eric, a kind-hearted young man. But now she had been
transformed not just into a sexy woman, but the kind who made money by
wrapping her lips around men's cocks. And it was a role that it seemed she
would have to play for a little longer tonight ...

Some time later, a truck stopped on a lonely stretch of highway to pick up
a strikingly dressed blonde hitchhiker. As she climbed up into the cab, her
skirt rode up to reveal her stocking tops and she had to be careful not to
snag her heels. The black bra clearly visible through her blouse struggled
to contain her large breasts. After a minute or two the truck pulled away.
Someone watching from behind would have seen the taillights recede down the
long straight stretch of road. Until suddenly, the brakes were applied, and
the truck could be seen pulling over onto the side of the road ...

*The end*