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KattieD's Blog

Want to know what rambles through my mind?

Kattie's New Reality Chapter 5
Posted:Jul 3, 2024 10:51 am
Last Updated:Jul 5, 2024 7:56 am
In his office, Andrew swirled his glass of fine brandy idly as he perused the forums where he had become the reigning VIP. On one bank of monitors he could see the live feed of all the cameras in kattie's suite, which of course anyone online could also tune into. Right now she was sitting on her couch, playing a video game. He'd given her more things to fill her time. She was fully naked, as was standard now, her long golden hair falling in shimmering waves and half-curls down nearly to her waist, concealing just one of her modest breasts. He had taken all of her clothes away six weeks ago, just three days after she had found out about the cameras and he had begun to establish the new terms and reality of her living situation. She had had nothing to cover herself with at all since then, day or night, with the exception of the sheets that he allowed her to keep on her bed while she slept. Her nipple piercings, horizontal steel barbells going through each nipple, and her diamond clit piercing were her only adornments. These she was instructed to keep in day and night. Nail polish, always neatly applied to her slender finger and toenails, and makeup was the only other thing she was permitted to have.

She had been very cold for the first few days, as he expected, and highly awkward now that she knew there was no corner of her quarters she could go which would escape the gaze of the constantly running cameras, and thus the eyes of the whole internet. She would sometimes self-deprecatingly speak out loud at times, when she was about to do something embarrassing she couldn't avoid, like take a shit, trying to cover the awkwardness she felt but only amplifying it dramatically. Everyone watching knew she didn't find anything funny about it when she would give a dry, humorless forced chuckle and say "Ok...I'm gonna take a shit now. Look away if you don't want to see something gross."

She had become much more self conscious at first, especially of using the toilet, sometimes going three days between bowel movements until she could put it off no longer. Her face would always flush bright red, knowing that every detail of this intensely private act was being broadcast in explicit detail to whoever in the world wished to watch. And watch they would. Just so that it could not be hidden in the constant stream, he had hired a very willing assistant, some man who lived in kattie's hometown of Long Beach, who would timestamp everything that happened on her various cameras so people could jump to their favorite bits later. The numbers showed that the toilet trips attracted special attention. On average, every time she shit a good 80,000 people would see it, either live or later on, via his state of the art, full color HD camera embedded in the porcelain of the lower bowl, pointing up at the inner seat. 80,000 seeing her sphincter pinch off her filth, and then the bidet blast her clean. He knew, as did everyone else, that she hated it more than anything, and this fact alone probably accounted for most of the views. Their primary desire was to humiliate her.

Predictably, her long weepy spilling of her guts to him two months ago had driven them into a frenzy, and only encouraged them more. He had truthfully told her there were no cameras present at the time, which there weren't, but she had not asked about a microphone. So later that day her forums had the audio clip in its entirety, her revealing all of her inner torments of the last years, from her perspective. A fully willing slut, your typical pornstar, was one thing, but a regular girl pressed into this with constant regret and attracted a different breed. Most believed her, some didn't. But they all had plausible deniability. And it could not be denied how she seemed to have enthusiastically participated at times, or even brought further degradation upon herself entirely at times, like when she hijacked her own Facebook in a drunken manic episode of self-destruction, inviting people to come wreck her in her apartment.

Over the last nearly two months since revealing the cameras, Andrew had steadily escalated the situation for her, knowing where he wanted to take it. He would break her down entirely, until there was no humiliation, no torture she would not endure. But he had to pace it.

He didn't tell her about the audio recording yet. He had a feeling this would crush her possibly beyond repair right now. He was saving it for when she needed to be broken even further, and could survive it. Piece by piece dismantling her autonomy. He did not tell her about the many edits people had made, setting the audio of her breakdown to videos of her various gangbangs. How people now were jacking off to clips of her face covered in the cum of two dozen men, while her own weeping, gasping voice narrates: "I wanted to have a career in graphic design. I was on my way. I wanted my parents to be proud of me. Proud of the new job I had just gotten." Or the various others like it. But one day soon she would know.

Yes, he thought. One day soon she will know. And I know how she will react. How it will be the last layer of psychological submission. For a few years now her body, her physical autonomy had been conquered, but now so has her mind. I know she feels she slipped up by spilling all that to me, and she's right. The only thing in the world she thinks is till private - her thoughts. And now they have those too. All those deep, dark things. Now freely available to the same guys who jack off to pictures of her soles, her colon and her tongue. Just one more thing. They had everything now.

She had adapted well to his latest escalations, his new rules. A day after informing her that she would no longer have access to clothes unless he explicitly wished for her to have them, six weeks ago, he had laid out the ground rules for her new life. They were written on a board in her quarters, lest she ever forget them. He told her that her lodging was dependent on her following them without question.

The current rules were as follows:

1. Every specific, intentional sex or sex-adjacent act that happens to you in this house, or elsewhere while you are under my supervision, will be filmed in full lighting, with professional camera equipment. It will rival any professional porn production, if not exceed it in quality.

2. All passive, non-sexual action will also be filmed in the highest quality possible. This pertains to the hidden cameras that you already know of, as well as many microphones. All of this "slice-of-life" footage will be streamed live to the internet, as well as saved for public consumption in perpetuity. You will not know the locations of all hidden cameras, but you should assume that they are everywhere. All lighting in your quarters will be controlled remotely. All manual lightswitches will be deactivated.

3. No clothes, or coverings of any kind, are permitted to be worn by you except by Andrew's explicit instruction. The one exception to the covering rule is at night while you are in bed, at which time you may cover yourself with the bed's sheets for warmth, and then only when you are actually intending to go to sleep. If you are lazing in bed after waking up, the sheets must come down. Otherwise, no object or posture must be adopted to attempt to conceal any portion of your body.

4. Unless specifically directed otherwise, all meals will be eaten directly from the bowl on the floor in the corner of your dining area. A camera directly faces this bowl. A screen next to this will display a live feed of viewer comments, which you must focus on while chewing. You must take the food into your mouth by retrieving it directly from the bowl with your mouth. You may not use your hands. If food falls to the floor, you must also fetch it directly with your mouth. You must not use your hands in any capacity while eating, except to support the weight of your own body on the floor.

5. At the beginning of each day, you are only permitted to move about by crawling on all fours. You are not allowed to stand up, or have the soles of your feet touch the ground until you have earned your first load of in-person cum for the day, whether it be from Andrew or someone else at his discretion. An effort will always be made to provide this opportunity to you early in the day. Otherwise, you must crawl like a for the duration of that day.

6. You are to behave toward any man, unless directly contradicted by Andrew, as if he is your master. You must obey any command given to you, by anyone, if it is in your power to do so. You must address every man as "sir," and obey with an air of thankfulness.

7. Any semen produced or present in your presence must be consumed as quickly as possible. If cum falls to the floor, you must lick it up.

8. Your toilet can only be flushed via a footswitch located on the opposite end of your bathroom. When you leave the toilet, an overhead camera will take a photograph of the contents of your toiletbowl for documentation and posterity. Your toilet will not have a lid. This is to continually impress upon you the fact that no element of your life is private.

9. You will submit to frequent, sometimes daily, full body examinations by an associate of Andrew's choosing.

10. Given the full nature of your surveillance, it will not be possible to escape detection of rule infraction. Rule-infraction will be punished with, at a minimum, a cum-only diet for three days, supplemented only by oatmeal mixed into some of this cum, and nutritional pills. Infractions can stack, meaning that in theory you could face a month of a cum-only diet. Willing volunteers online, via the mail, will ensure that there is a plentiful availability of semen. Viewers will also be invited to suggest and vote on additional punishment, which is subject to approval and implementation by Andrew or one of his associates.

An addendum below all this read: "Any of the above rules can be changed, or added to, at any time at Andrew's discretion. You forfeit any right to complain, or determine the fairness of any action."

The last line stated "I kattie A. Duval, voluntarily agree to the above conditions. Should I have any reservations panties and a bra will be supplied to me, and I will be driven to the corner of Haight and Ashbury and dropped of at 3 am tomorrow morning. I set my signature this 12 th day of June 2023.

Andrew told her to read the last line aloud while glancing at the camera and either sign or refuse to sign. She realized that the entire internet would know where she was going to be at 3am if she didn't sign it. At first Andrew had briefly worried he had played too much of his hand, too early, but in the end he had read her correctly.

The next day she had dutifully crawled about on the ground, upturned soles dragging behind her, all dignity gone and obviously unhappy, and yet complying. She had eaten her omelet from the bowl with no hands, staring with no reaction at the screen as the gleeful and degrading comments poured in. They were all thrilled to speak directly to her. Then he had gone down and given her her opportunity to stand, leading her by her hair crawling to the toilet, where he had her place her face in the bowl for the toilet camera to capture while he rutted her from behind and finally left her with a thick creampie running from her pussy down her thighs. As she clutched the porcelain rim, catching her breath, he coughed and then glanced down at the cum that had spilled from her spent cunt to the floor. With no further instruction she put her head down and licked it from the tiles.

He didn't mention to her at that time that he had placed his contact info on the site, that he would soon allow opportunities for her whole community to get directly involved, in a manner controlled by him. Soon they would be able to vote for what kind of acts she should perform, fulfilling any and every fetish there was demand for, no matter how niche. These services would, at times, cost them money. Andrew didn't need the money, but he had to have some way of determining who was really serious. They had never had such a direct and easy method of controlling her before, most of them. He could not wait to provide them the ability. But he had to pace himself. Too much too soon and the might decide to risk her chances out in the world. But with careful escalation he would soon have her doing anything. Soon he would have her primed to give herself to anyone who wanted her, in person. He would let everyone on those forums get their dick inside of her, to the extent possible. But first the curated breakdown of her psyche.

The new, amazingly thorough and high-quality anatomy section of his website was just completed yesterday. Andrew was rather proud of it. He had come up with innovative, technological means of documenting every inch of her body in excruciating detail, including a good portion of the inside of it. Areas of high interest would receive regular updates, with the full archive of course constantly available.

Other pages of the site gave kattie's full background, her history, her former dreams, former jobs, education history. It included all the old photos and videos of kattie in her former life that Andrew, or anyone else, had been able to find. It included her birthdate, her social security number, old addresses, copies of her old driver's license and the information contained therein, the name of her first (and only) serious boyfriend, the date she lost her virginity to him. It included testimonials from former acquaintances, describing her shy awkward demeanor, her interests. She had liked video games and anime, frequently wore oversized hoodies and had a small group of friends, too introverted to speak much to anyone outside of it. How it all clashed with what became of her. It documented her hidden dark fantasies, including the stolen internet history of the porn videos she had watched in the lead up to her first gangbang and exposure, all of them videos of women being degraded and gangbanged, fisted and bukkaked by dozens of men. This is what she secretly got off to.

The anatomy section was the crown jewel of the site, aside of course from the live feed. The top read "The Definitive Anatomy of kattie Ann Duval." It went on to list her blood type (, her height (5'5"), her weight (125), her shoe size (7), and the dimensions of every inch of her body. Her bust and chest size, the width of her hips. The length and width, in millimeters, of each of her toes, the length and width of her soles at the ball of the foot, the arch, and the heel. Of her nipples and areola, her labia, her sphincter (with its 28 wrinkles), along with plenty of pictures of each area documented. The width of her stretched mouth, the depth of her pussy in aroused and unaroused states, the current maximum gape achieved on her asshole. Internal, lit pictures of the lining of her descending colon.

Someone could have created a perfect clone from the information. It had detailed prints of her fingers and toes, as well as the whole hands and whole feet, each whorl and line and crease and tiny scar documented in stark black ink. Andrew hadn't thought about it, but more than one fan had actually made molds of her fingers and could easily leave an accurate tracee of her fingerprint. What evidence could be left...

A separate link took you to the archive of each of her bowel movements, both as it came out and as it sat in the bowl waiting to be flushed. His medical assistant Thomas had been giving her thorough check ups, mostly gynecological, every three days, always with bare hands. Each one produced a new slate of photographs of her vagina, both in its resting state, before and after arousal, as well as with the labia spread wide and with a clear speculum buried deep in her, cranked to the maximum width, producing a clear shot of the ripples of her vaginal cavity and her cervix. Each dated and documented. Her reproductive tunnel opened for the world to study, day after day, so pink and well lit. Videos documented her pussy, gaped by the speculum, as she was brought to orgasms she could not help but scream through, her pussy muscles flexing in futility to close around the intrusion, wetness pooling at the back of her canal, under her cervix.

There was a continually updated calendar of her menstrual cycle, when she had ovulated and bled, the consistency, taste, smell, and amount of vaginal discharge at each checkup. A record of every strain of HPV she had.

He had her regularly fuck a state-of-the-art endoscope, a lit, clear dildo-shaped device that recorded from the inside. You could see the cock POV as it parted her labia, penetrated her vaginal hole, pushing aside the jagged remnants of her hymen, and then slowly sink further into her cavity, her pink, ridged walls hugging it as the tip pushed apart the billowing, sensitive tissue inside of her, until it revealed her shining, donut-shaped cervix. They would push it in and out at various speeds, lingering for a long time at every depth, to allow as much clear documentation as possible, all of it clear and in focus. It was the perfect tour of the inside of a woman's most secret place, views no one would normally have. They did the same with her ass, and her throat, letting people watch as her uvula swung back to accommodate the intrusion, the muscles in the back of her throat contracting as she fought the gagging reflex.

He had a room built that was fitted out with cameras in a full 360 degree orb, with a glass floor. He had kattie stand in the room as the cameras mapped her body from every angle, and then had her sit in a glass chair for another position of the same. The result was an interactive, movable map of her body, where people could rotate her like a 3D model, and zoom in wherever they wanted. Clicking on a body part would bring up the full record of HD detail pictures of that spot, with the ability to scroll through time and see what her cunt or tongue or soles looked like on X date. Where applicable, toggles allowed you to switch between different states of each area. Her feet with black toenail polish, bright red, white, French manicure. Her pussy in various states of arousal and spread, from closed to gaped wide, clean shaven or with a week of pubic hair growth, a month. Her asshole normal, pushed out, gaped, or prolapsing. Her soles pressed and smushed against the glass she stood on, or arched, or flat, her toes normal or splayed so that you could zoom in to see the very flecks of dust on the ridge of the webbing between her digits. Her face neutral, or crying, or with nostril pulls and mouth wideners, or covered in sheets of cum. All easy to download for free in full quality, with an option to sign up for automatic weekly updates to be emailed to you, so that even if one day this website was shut down, the content would still exist on a million different harddrives around the world, and thus thousands of further websites, indefinitely. Unerasable.

There were pictures of her teeth, her belly button, her tastebuds and uvula. Full probe videos from her throat, through her digestive tract, and out her asshole. Things that most people wouldn't even find erotic. Just to dehumanize her, to document her like a specimen. He knew many would consider it to be utterly strange or unnecessary, but he didn't care. Plenty of people understood. It was the principle. Andrew smiled, reflecting on how kattie surely had the most completely exposed, documented, widely-examined body in human history. Knowing this only drove him to be all the more thorough and meticulous. It just mattered that it was there, mapped out forever. You could see most of the same things, here and there, of other women on the internet, porn stars, but to have it ALL laid out so methodically, so thoroughly, was so erotically invasive. It was important for everyone to have the complete record. The complete public record of what was once a woman.

So too had he begun collecting samples of all of her bodily fluids, to be made available for sale to anyone visiting the site. Vials of her piss, her blood, her spit, her tears, her discharge. If she was lactating he would have taken her milk, and intended to when possible. Anything to share her, to continue the experiment of how little privacy or exclusivity a woman could have. If anyone on the forums expressed a desire to see something, or do something, or collect something from her, it was Andrew's intention to make it possible.

For now he also sold life-size imprints of her feet molded in clay, highly detailed, each wrinkle of her soles and print of her toes intact, as well as a similar imprint of her vulva region. He intended to sell the world's highest quality fleshlight of her once he obtained the means of accurately sculpting the interior of her vagina. It was important that it felt like fucking the real girl, not just a generic tunnel with her labia plastered on the front, like most fleshlights sold now were. But for now he was happy with what was currently available in his shop. He wanted to make as much of her accessible to as many people as possible. He had sold 1,890 of the feet imprints, 2,330 of the vulva, and more orders came in every day.

His new app allowed people to have alerts sent to their phones immediately for any new content, whether it was a new gyno inspection or otherwise. The alerts could be customized so that people could tune in live for whatever X event they wished to never miss, maximizing the live viewership for any humiliating ordeal.

He was going to show her the anatomy site tonight. She knew it was coming, of course, but she had not seen the full effect.

Six weeks so far of this mental conditioning. Soon she would be ready to accept the physical escalations. Already he had started the weekly gangbangs. She was used to those, so he knew that they would not be her breaking point. He had to find a new breaking point, and then ease her past it as well. But first this. Two weeks ago had been her first gangbang in his care, aside from the opening parties. He had opened the invitation to those on the forums who were in the San Francisco area or could get there. He only wanted people who had never gotten a chance to experience her before, who would add to her total number. Hundreds had sent him their applications. He chose 100 of them, and texted each of them an address where it would take place, under threat of excommunication from future participation if they gave it to anyone else. He had to control this at his speed.

A friend had agreed to host it at his house, about a 15 minute drive from Andrew's place. Everyone involved knew this was a one-off location. On Saturday night he had kattie walk upstairs and outside to his car, still naked. They drove with her naked all the way to the other location. She did not know the occasion, but she surely had an idea. It was dark, but a few cars still blew their horns at them as they pulled up beside them at redlights, or pulled out their phones to snap a picture of the naked young woman in the passenger seat of a car on a public street. Andrew forbade her from covering herself.

The 100 new men were already inside, as arranged. She just looked down at the floor in uncertainty when she saw them, unable to meet their eyes. Andrew told her they were all longtime fans of hers from her forums, eager to earn their "crown" on the message board, which would identify them as men who had actually physically consummated their lust with their common object of desire. He told her that which she already knew: that she would please these men however they saw fit, and that she would not leave until her pussy or asshole had drained the cum from every last ballsack in the room.

They drank and took their time. They followed the rules as set out by Andrew: use her how you wish, but be efficient, focus on using your genitals in her as opposed to hands or other implements, and leave when you have cum. When the room was empty she would be done. Record or take pictures if you wish while you're here. Two professional videographers provided the high-quality footage for everyone at home.

He fed her ecstasy, wanting her to build strong physio-conditioned responses to sex with unknown men. She took the drugs stoically, without question. They went three at a time, using her holes as they wanted, each man cycling to make sure he got to use either her ass or cunt. They didn't speak to her, except to give her commands. They finished in her or on her. None of them used condoms. They willing rutted in other men's filth, knowing the conditions of their iniquities. She bore the deluge of humanity with disciplined practice at first, spreading her legs to accept each new man in a way that had become familiar to her, or automatically reaching down and guiding a cock at the proper angle and speed into her rectum, shifting the muscles around her practiced bowels with an expertise that had crept up on her over these few years. But as the night wore on and the room thinned out, as her holes became looser and sloppier and more raw, and her mind more addled by the successive waves of drugs Andrew plied her with, she became more and more drunk off the stench of men, off her own exquisite debasement. As they had seen so often before, she became a willing participant in their game, seeking to be an agent disembodied, a party to the destruction of a who was not, could not be her. By the 30th cock she was fucking herself on them, sweating and crying out, grinding her pierced clit down into the furred pubic mounds she sat impaled upon, seeking some final release that ever seemed to elude her, reluctant to let the spent ones vacate her orifices, already reaching out to guide the next one in. She squirted, as she had done that first time in her apartment so long ago, and many times since, the entirety of her loins feeling so overstimulated and tangled up that her bladder or whatever mysterious reservoir it was failed to contain itself each time a cock pulled out of her, coating the chests of dozens of the men in a row in her juices.

He had selected none of them by their looks or backgrounds, and they came in every shape and size and description, as he wanted. All must be equal before her. Some were regular enough guys, plenty were ugly, some were very old. Some looked like they'd never had a woman before, and their quick performance was further testament. They were black, white, asian, hispanic. Their cocks were huge, or tiny, cut and uncut, some bent at odd angles or nearly swallowed up in their bushes of untrimmed pubic hair. Each was welcomed the same into the raw warmth of her insides - a strange, brief pantomime of intimate love. Soon followed by another man who would feel the exact same thing in the exact same place. By the time the room was halfway emptied out she was scooping the cum from her holes between partners to gobble it up, and licked it off the floor when they took her from behind.

At last the sun was rising and everyone was gone but kattie, Andrew, the host, and the two cameramen, who all then took their turn. The host had had her before at a party, but the cameramen had not. It was 102 new men for her tally. 1,470 in life.

When it was over she seemed to be in a delirium, and then when he'd led her out naked to the car and they drove off in the morning light, her hair a mess and her whole body coated in sweat and cum, it seemed to hit her. Then she seemed ashamed, on earth again, humiliated by that dark altar ego they had brought out of her again. He drove and looked at her from time to time, her forehead resting against the window, knowing that she was contemplating the 102 new men who had just, just like that, become one with her, felt that part of her that a few years ago she had only given to one. And now 102, a number she once would have thought of as the lifetime number of a true slut with no self-worth, she had given up in just another night. She couldn't even remember any of their faces, but each knew hers. Knew every part of her like the back of their hand.

When she got home that morning the digital banners that topped the walls in every room of her quarters were updated with her new number: 1,470, for her to see and contemplate in the back of her mind all day every day. A number that could never go down, only up. An inverse evaluation of a woman's worth, to much of society.

The next Saturday, now just a few days ago, the event was repeated in another location, with new men from the forums, but this time the number was 150. It took her to 1,620. He saw it all written on her face when they first walked into the house. The previous week wasn't a one-off event. It would keep repeating. He knew she was probably calculating the numbers in her head, wondering how high he would make her go, wondering how many men could be on those forums. He knew it was in the tens of thousands, and growing every day. He aspired to let them all in, in time.

So now the numbers on the walls read 1,620.

God, he had aspirations for her. By the time he was done with her he'd have her film the best version of content for every fetish he or anyone on the forums could think of. Make her the cream of the crop for everything, so that no matter what kind of porn people were looking for it would always lead them to kattie. In between the tours around the country, giving people far and wide the opportunity to fuck the notorious slut, the filming of all this content would be her full-time job. He'd bring in more live-in assistants to be available to film around the clock. Already he had it set up where people could vote on her next activities. Soon she'd begin. As long as he paced it where she would still find the outside world to be worse than what she experienced inside the house, she was his.


Another month passed. Maybe more. The outside world spun on. It was probably late summer now, but kattie wouldn't have known were it not for the walled garden in her quarters where she went out to sunbathe in the nude. She was always nude. She hadn't felt clothes on her skin or even seen any she could wear in the two or three months since Andrew had revealed his MO to her. She had little to measure the passing of time but the steady rise of the number on the boards in every room. 1,950 now. Omnipresent so that she could never forget it, or what it represented.

Andrew had arranged periodic gangbangs for her. None of them surprised her, of course. She knew to expect that and more once those first parties, and the cameras, had been revealed to her. She knew he had her right where he wanted her, and there was nothing she could do about it. He always reminded her she was free to leave at any time, but she also knew that he was right in his warnings: that whatever awaited her outside this house was probably far worse than what she'd experience inside of it.

"You are a ," he had sympathetically said to her once a few weeks ago, after he had again taken her to some other millionaire's mansion to be fucked by another 100+ deviant strangers from the internet. "Nothing can change this fact now. It is written in history. You are not a because I have made you one or am forcing you to be one. You are because you are, now. It can't be undone. At this point what difference does 1,800 or 18,000 dicks inside of you make? Will it make anyone think less of you than they already think?"

She knew he was right. She hated that he was right, but he was right. All of her old friends, her family, anyone who knew her from school or her old jobs or anywhere else had already seen hundreds of men run trains on her, had seen her with wine bottles stretching her pussy to obscene widths, had seen her bulge out her asshole until her rectum prolapsed out, had seen her consume dozens of used condoms. Nothing could redeem her, nothing could make her go lower in their eyes. Whatever the true circumstances of her entering into this situation would never matter. Why shouldn't she lean into it, be unrepentantly the filthy public that it still, somewhere deep in her loins, thrilled her to be? Much as she despised that thrill. It was too late.

"Here you have protection," he had continued. "You have the world's best medical care. When the mutual satisfaction that this venture can bring to both of us has run its course, perhaps you'll have a very respectable retirement package coming your way. You can live out your days in peace and luxury, regardless of what the world thinks of you. But you must follow my course until then. That is all."

She resented living at his whim, having to follow his rules, but she couldn't deny that what he offered beat anything else she was likely to find. The next controlling superfan was not likely to be a multimillionaire. He showed her things he had found online, in the seedier parts of the internet that discussed her. Plots to kidnap her, both outlandish fantasies of lone wolves but also much more credible threats from foreign sex trafficking rings that she had attracted the attention of, who wanted nothing more than to turn this blonde American into a sex slave taking 10,000 Filipino cocks a year until she died of AIDS, a fitting punishment for her lechery.

So she stayed. She tried to suppress her innate feelings of indignation, her natural demand for basic dignity that all people had.

She endured his monologues and philosophizing. "Most of the pain comes from your resistance. As long as you think there is a chance of escape from all this, a chance of dignity, the pain will continue. Think of it like the cold. There are some who can thrive in coldness where others shiver and barely move. They feel the cold the same, but the stronger one accepts the cold, does not resist it. And the pain goes away."

He reiterated to her that the cameras will be on her at all times, that she would never know where they all are. That she should assume they are everywhere, showing every piece of her at all times to the whole world. That she must completely surrender the concept of privacy. Assume at any given moment that anyone she has ever met has a live view of whatever part of her they want to see.

"And remember it's not just for a live audience. It's being put into the world forever. Tied to your name for good."

He told her that it should occur to her that in all likelihood she had the most thoroughly exposed, disseminated, and widely-viewed naked body in human history. It hit her like a ton of bricks that he was right. That night she brought herself to two consecutive orgasms in bed replaying those words in her head, and then went into the bathroom, got on the counter and spread her legs wide in front of the mirror, which she knew contained cameras, and brought herself to a third moaning, weeping orgasm for the whole world to see, digging two fingers into her G spot until she squirted all over the glass. Then she went back to bed and tried to convince herself that any of this was real. Your own sick brain got you into this, really.

In the morning she crawled over to the dogbowl for her breakfast, carefully avoiding letting the bottoms of her feet touch the ground as she got out of bed. She saw the live comments on the screens pour in as she ate, not really absorbing them now, just letting them become part of that constant background hum of humiliation she was always soaking in.

A new guy came down to do her examination. It was usually the same two or three guys, but she had never seen this one before. He greeted her formally then immediately had his cock out and in her mouth. He then took her from behind as her face was thrust into the bowl camera. She made the porn faces into the camera that she knew they were expecting. When she felt his hot load fill her up and then spill out of her onto the floor she saw the tally bump up to 1,951.

"Get cleaned up, then let's go have a look in you," he said.

She wiped the cum off of and out of herself as best she could with paper towels then went and laid down on the examination bed. She didn't understand the point of making mostly the same exams three times a week, but each time still felt like a new violation, and she assumed that was probably the point. She couldn't wear clothes, but the Internet would get multiple new updates of the inside of her vagina and ass every week.

The guy put her feet up into the stirrups, spreading her legs wide. He began by taking a picture of her crotch untouched, as they usually did, and then had her spread her labia wide with both hands. More pictures, and then he began to lubricate the video-equipped dildo-like apparatus that he would use to document the depths of her interior. She wondered if he had any medical background.

She looked down at her pierced nipples, to the diamond-studded piercing protruding from the top of her clit. Aside from the nail polish, usually bold red, that the dutiful asian beautician applied to her meticulously manicured and pedicured nails a couple times a week, along with makeup when it suited them, she had been naked as the day she was born for months. Andrew had insisted. As she felt the device penetrate her, slowly pushing in and out to record her inner flesh slowly billowing away from its retreat, she remembered his words.

"You should still be made up, even without clothes. Your fans like the subtle reminders of the elegance a woman like you would normally have, would have had, had your life not gone down this path. You don't look like a pornstar, and you're not. You look like a 1950s Hollywood sweetheart. This shouldn't have happened to a girl like you. It's a special thrill to see a woman like you, a classic beauty, turned into such demeaned, irreversibly used goods. And you're the most used goods imaginable."

She could see on the live feed on the wall what everyone else was seeing right now. She still couldn't believe they could capture this kind of detail, or that it was her, or that it was being recorded for public consumption.

"You must come to find it as normal to show someone your cervix as you used to find it to show them your face," he had said. "No part of your body is more private than any other part."

She knew it was true. There was always the instinctive reaction to cover herself, but she was working to suppress it. Not wearing clothes for months certainly helped. She watched the internal video being played on the screen. How absurd it was to have an instinct to cover your breasts when videos like this were being produced multiple times a week. Andrew was right. All of her privacy, her dignity as a woman, was already gone. Resisting it in any way now only added to discomfort over an inescapable situation. Everything was documented forever. Why not embrace what could not be escaped, rather than live in a perpetual state of discomfort?

As the acting physician had her flip over onto her knees, her ass raised in the air so that he could use the device to give her anus the same examination, she thought of who all from back home was watching this right now. Who all had known her in her first life as a proper, unassuming introvert, was now about to watch in detail as a camera studied her sphincter, and then push through and light up places of her body she herself had never even seen outside of this shared experience. Andrew was right. She had to own it. She had to reclaim herself through a surrender to what had once been her own, most private urges. To fail to do so was death.


In early October of that year Eric Heinneman sat in the living room of his home in Lakewood, California (hi Eric), watching as his wife prepared to walk out the door for an evening out with her girlfriends. She grabbed her purse, double checked that her phone, wallet, and everything else she needed was in there, then came over and gave him a kiss.

"Don't have too much fun without me," she said.

"I'll try," Eric said.

He smiled and watched her go out to the garage. When he had heard her garage door open and then close again, he grabbed his laptop and opened a private browser. He typed in the link he had visited so many times before.

It went straight to the live feed. There was kattie, hogtied on her knees, her wrists bound behind her, her upper torso held aloft, keeping her in the receiving position by her ponytail behind her head, which was tied to a rope anchored to the ceiling above her. Her face was in the camera, her big yellow-brown eyes wide, almost pleading. It looked like she was staring into his eyes and his eyes alone, not tens of thousands of other viewers as well. She looked ridiculous and obscene. Her mouth was held open wide by a clear plastic dental implement which stretched her lips outward in four directions, preventing them from closing at all, baring her gums and teeth. A metal device arced over her head was inserted in both of her nostrils, pulling them upward so that she looked like a pig. She looked so open and stupid and exploited. Some fat, masked naked guy was fucking her ass from behind while others stood around stroking their cocks. Written on her back in marker were several tally marks, about 35.

I know, i know some of you are tired of the gang bangs. i just can't help what rolls around in my mind. i'm so so sorry. k
Kattie's New Reality Chapter 4
Posted:Jun 30, 2024 3:54 pm
Last Updated:Jul 3, 2024 9:39 am

At first, Kattie thought she had really lucked out. Andrew's house was amazing, he had a fully stocked kitchen, and even though he had already laid down the rule that she was not to leave the house unless under his direction and escort, he otherwise seemed to be a very agreeable, even charming man. He alluded to further rules and stipulations of their relationship that would be coming, and would be 100% required for her to adhere to in order to stay under his protection. But for now, he did little more than treat her lavishly and have somewhat forceful, but more or less normal, sex with her about twice a day. She slept in his bed at night and didn't shrink away from cuddling against him.

Was he the kind of guy she would have chosen to be with on her own, had none of this ever happened to her? Probably not. She'd wanted to date guys her own age. His money was nice, obviously, but she'd never been a gold digger. But he was nice. He was kind, in his own way. He listened to her and it felt like he actually cared about what she was saying, about her feelings on things. She felt secure with him. He was older, established. He seemed unflappable. He already knew all about her whole history, something that would send most men running, and he accepted it, even seemed to like it. She knew there had to be a catch, somehow, but for now she couldn't believe her luck.

He had insisted that she not keep her phone or have any access to the internet or the outside world, but this was the only controlling behavior he had exhibited in those first two weeks. He said that it was to insulate her, to give her the sense that their small world was self-contained, that there was nothing to worry about or even consider beyond these walls. He hinted that this may be the only way for me to get over, no to stop expecting that i'll be "found out". It bothered me only for a moment, but I soon came to realize that he had a point. He said that he could sculpt me, teach me to be comfortable and empowered within my situation and buried predilections. This was all just part of that process. And he was right. I couldn't undo any of this, as much as I might want to. The best thing would be to try to learn to flourish within the confines of my reality, and Andrew encouraged me that he could show me how.

After the second week he showed her another wing of the house she had never seen, completely sealed off on its own behind a metal door, which was a full apartment unto itself, and informed her that from now on these would be her quarters. There was a nice bathroom with a tub and shower, a living room, a bedroom, a small personal gym, and a kitchenette that was fully stocked with high-end food products. He told her she would sleep here, get ready here in the morning, and be here on her own essentially any time he did not require her presence in his part of the house. At first it made her uneasy, like she was a pampered prisoner, but she pushed the uncertainty down. It was still exquisite quarters. She had a large window in her bedroom that let her look out over San Francisco. She wouldn't be locked in. There was a large TV with cable that she could watch, but he still did not want her to use the internet. The living room opened out onto a small, walled-in private garden.

She quickly got used to it. Andrew was often gone in the day now anyway, so she had range of the full house to herself. The one exception was his own quarters, which he kept locked.

She began using the treadmills and the other exercise equipment a lot. She'd always just had a naturally fit and slim body without any effort, but it couldn't hurt to stay active. The physical exertion kept her mind off things anyway. It felt better just to focus on anything other than how she was probably the most exposed and humiliated girl on the planet.

In the evenings Andrew would always treat her to an excellent dinner that he himself would cook. He was a skilled chef. Afterward they would sit on the back veranda overlooking the city and drink wine and talk. He seemed genuinely interested in her as a person. He asked her questions about herself, her past, things deeper than surface-level generalities. She found herself slowly opening up to him.

Eventually the topic of the origins of her current reality came up, although he seemed to be in no rush to get to it. She told him the truth. She told him how all of this fell on her like an avalanche out of nowhere. How yes, she had always had very well-hidden fantasies of being dominated, treated like a total slut, exposed, gangfucked...but she never in a million years would have dreamed of acting on these shameful fantasies. She'd never even brought them up to her first boyfriend. She'd always just wanted to be classy, pretty, respectable. A lady.

"I know it's hard to believe, but I did not sign up for any of this. No one believes me, and I guess I can't blame them. But I have no idea how I was put in this situation. It's still nearly impossible to believe it has all happened."

Andrew rolled his wine glass back and forth between a thumb and index finger by the stem. He had a contemplative look on his face.

"I believe you," he said. "Your back and forth hesitation and obvious horror that has been evident throughout your didn't add up. Why would anyone want to do to themselves what has happened to you? Especially a girl like you who seemed to previously have such a promising, budding life ahead of you."

Kattie felt tears starting to well up in the corners of her eyes. She was glad it was dark on the patio where they were.

Andrew ran a finger through a lock of her hair. He touched the skin on her cheekbone.

"And yet," he continued, "I have to say you played the part of the reckless and willing quite well at times as well. Your participation seemed to be rather enthusiastic on occasion. You can see how it's confusing to your fans."

Kattie's felt her face flushing red. She downed her wine.

"I understand though. I've known women like you before. Don't be ashamed of it. You can't help it. I may even understand your psyche better than you yourself understand it. You do feel torn about your own natural responses, don't you?"

Kattie couldn't look at him. She just nodded.

Andrew filled her glass up again.

"Someone set you up. They knew you'd have no way out. How incredibly cruel, but also..." He tapered off. He looked out over the city below.

"I won't lie to you," he said after a long pause. "Your reluctance, your forced position, your innocence of having been put into this situation, is maybe the main thing that interests me about you. Most of your fans harbor serious doubts about the official story of the origins of your predicament. A compromised, innocent girl being forced to share herself with the world is much more thrilling than let's say, a true shameless who truly finds no value in that part of herself which she is giving away. Few people can come right out and admit this, though. Your supposed consent gives them cover to treat you like meat without guilt, with less judgment from others."

She stared at the ground. It almost felt like he'd slapped her. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt. And yet, the honesty was better than more deception.

"Of course it's terrible what happened to you," he continued, "but it's well too late to fix it. The best option left now is for you to learn to live within it, and thrive. As I've told you before, I can get you there. But you have to trust me, and not begrudge my methods. The alternative, of course, you leaving to try to make your own way in the world, will be much worse. But I think you've already experienced that."

She was shaking slightly. She was angry at herself for not being able to stop it.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

His eyes hardened. A look she had never seen in him.

"It's not your place to ask me questions."


She woke up the next morning in her own bed, naked but tucked in nicely. There was a vase of roses next to her bed. She sat up. She had begun to get woozy last night after a few glasses of wine. Andrew had turned cold toward her out of nowhere, speaking to her in short, commanding sentences. Cold wasn't the right word. That would imply some kind of bitterness. He was above that. He had begun treating her like a he was training. After her fourth glass he had suddenly stood up, said "Come," and grabbing her by the collar of her nightie led her brusquely to the master bedroom. He had torn the silk nightie from her and pushed her naked body down into a fuck swing hanging in the corner of the large room. He'd slapped her face, hard, one side and then the other, then pulled her long legs wide open, holding them in place by shoving her feet into the split straps of the swing, and then dropped his pants and immediately sunk his considerable cock all the way into her cunt, the angle of her body in the swing allowing him to hit deep within her. She cried out involuntarily at his sudden roughness. He fucked her hard, his cock just long enough to smash into her cervix over and over, which he did with no regard for her comfort, using the swing to easily pull the whole momentum of her body up and down his shaft. When he'd had enough of her cunt he grabbed his cock by the base, pulled out, and re-situated it at her anus. With a single forceful thrust, his dick already wetted by her juices, he rammed his whole length into her rectum. He'd fucked her like this for a full thirty minutes, his stamina never flagging, switching his cock back and forth between the holes between her legs at will, one hand stuffed deep in her mouth, stretching her lips painfully as he grasped at her wet tongue with his fingers.

She felt between her legs now. She winced. She was sensitive to the touch around both holes. Her vagina and anus had been put through heroic ordeals in the past, so this was nothing new to her, but she was still somewhat amazed by how rough this single man had managed to be. She reflected on her automatic thought process. A "single man," like this was strange. How shameful and unreal that multiple men at once seemed more normal for her now.

She looked over at the roses. There was a note tucked under the vase. She pulled it out and read it.

"You were wonderful last night. I hope you are at peace with the nature of how things might go here. You serve wonderfully. Know that whatever I put you through, you will be given an equivalent treatment of recovery and leisure afterward. I've had a breakfast laid out for you in your living room. I hope you find it satisfactory. If you ever require anything more, please just ask.


PS. You will be attending a high-society event with me this evening in town. It's a fundraising event I'm expected to be at, but I thought you might like to get out of the house. I have had a few wardrobe options prepared for you to choose from. Take a look in your closet when you're ready. A woman will be sent to do your hair and makeup. We leave at 8."

Kattie swung her bare legs out of the bed and stood up. A velvet scarlet robe was hanging on a peg, ready for her. She slipped it onto her nude body and went out of the bedroom.

As promised, a full breakfast was laid out. She had no idea who had come to prepare it. She poured herself a mimosa with the chilled bottle of champagne protruding from a bucket, and nibbled at some of the fruit and a slice of a warm frittata. At least this was much nicer than the usual treatment men gave after using her.

After eating enough to fill herself she went to the closet and looked at the outfits he'd made available for her. There were five different dresses, and five different pairs of heels. They were all brand new, and obviously very expensive. They were all a little more risque than the classic mid-century styles she had always preferred when dolling herself up in the past, but who was she kidding. She was just lucky he hadn't demanded she attend this party naked. And the dresses were very beautiful.

She chose a gold, shimmering sheath dress that tightly hugged her curves and cut off just above her knees. It was open on the sides and the neckline was low cut to down near the belly button, but it was still classy while being provocative. She paired it with black laceup, open toed stilettos. It was certainly a more glamorous look than she'd have ever thought to choose for herself or been able to afford for that matter.

She spent the rest of the day exercising, then stripped down and tried the private sauna adjacent to her gym room. She sipped a cocktail in her private garden for a while. She was starting to think she could get used to this life, de facto slave or not.

Her stylist arrived around 4, a warm and pleasant Japanese woman of about 40. She spoke little English, but was very hospitable and smiled the whole time she worked on Kattie. She gave her a warm footbath and face massage before making her up. She gave her a full manicure and pedicure. She shook her head almost in disgust and said "Oh honey, you have no boyfriend wit these nails. You need long nail for men to like you. I make men like you." She applied the long nails and finished by painting her fingernails and toenails in a white glossy polish. She did up her hair into an elaborate piled style based on Asian fashions, with two slender sticks pushed through to hold it all together. She gave her mascara and dark red lipstick. Then she put on her outfit. Looking at herself in the mirror, Kattie was quietly thrilled at how beautiful and couture she looked. The dress was just tight and sheer enough to suggest much, but actually reveal little. The heels were perfectly designed for her, and showcased her slender ankles and narrow feet, which were now accentuated by a severe arch that made her stand in such a way that the muscles in her legs and ass were subtly exaggerated.

When she was ready, she went upstairs. Andrew was dressed in a fitted suit, and he smiled when he saw her.

"You look more gorgeous than even I anticipated," he said.

A limo with a driver was waiting for them outside, and they hopped in and he took off down the hillside, heading for the city proper. They sipped champagne on the ride over.

The rest of the night passed in an increasing haze of constant glamour and decadence that was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. The party was in a private mansion. The drinks got to her quickly. She remembered entering the room, full of other beautiful and elegant people, and remembered all of them turning to look at her and Andrew as they entered. Everyone was welcoming, if slightly aloof, and no one asked her anything about who she was or where she'd come from. They just knew she was escorting Andrew, and that must have been enough.

She kept drinking the glasses of champagne or cocktails proffered to her by passing waiters, trying to quell the anxiety and discomfort still inside her, although everything was going fine. Big crowds like this just gave her anxiety now. Once or twice Andrew warned her to slow down on the drinks, as they were quite strong. Occasionally he would briefly leave her to chat with certain people and exchange business cards, but for the most part he stuck by her side and introduced her to everyone as "Kattie," with no further elaboration. She assumed he must have been a known bachelor and him showing up with a young unknown date was not strange to these high society types. After a few hours she sank back into a plush lounge chair and watched Andrew laughing and talking with two older gentlemen across the room. She caught some other men ogling her, muttering to each other, but it just seemed like the typical way men would ogle a beautiful woman. They coyly turned away when they saw her notice them. Her head felt very warm and thick, but in a pleasant way. She shut her eyes and just listened to the buzz of the room around her.

The next thing she knew, she was back in her room and it was morning again. She blearily looked around. Had she really gotten that drunk? She didn't even remember coming home. Her head felt rather thick still, and she was a bit nauseous, but it was far from the worst hangover she'd ever had.

She got out of bed and went to her private bathroom. She had fallen asleep completely naked. She wondered if Andrew had fucked her last night. She felt her pussy. It was considerably sore. He must have. She sat down on the toilet and relieved herself. She pissed into the bowl and then felt a cramping rumble in her belly, and with a sudden huge feeling of release, emptied her bowels as well. She tried again to remember more details from last night as she operated the controls next to the toilet and made the bidet spray heated water all over her labia and asshole, spreading them wide with one hand to allow the water to reach everywhere it could. The device was very pleasant, and made her feel far cleaner than just toilet paper ever had.

She showered and then dried off and slipped into one of her silky bathrobes. When she went upstairs she found Andrew sitting at a table in a windowed alcove, having breakfast. A newspaper was open on the table before him and a plate was set up for her across from him. He was glancing at his phone and smiling as he typed something. Then he looked up at her with a warm look in his eyes.

"Good morning," he said. "You seemed to have had a good time last night."

She sat down across from him and a woman she hadn't seen before bustled out of the kitchen and transferred hot food to her plate, followed by a cup of coffee.

"I guess so," Kattie said. "I honestly can't remember much after the first few hours. I must have blacked out. I'm so sorry if I did anything to embarrass you."

Andrew's phone buzzed and he took it up and smiled at it again, typed out a response then set it down again. She thought he hadn't even heard her but then he said "Nonsense. You were fine. No one would dare question the choices of any lady accompanying me, in any case. But you were totally out in that cushy armchair. I had to have one of my friends carry you back to the car with me."

Her face flushed red.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her face contorted in a bashful look.

"Again," he grinned at her, the smile just barely extending to his eyes, "nothing to apologize for. My friends would never judge you, or me."

She spent her days in and around the house, but mostly in her own quarters or on the grounds. She kept herself occupied in the gym, or the poolhouse, or reading any of the books from his large selection in his library. With the exception of her lack of access to the internet (a place she decided she was happier not visiting, anyway), her life almost seemed privileged. It was much nicer quarters than she was used to, in any case, and not having to work or worry about being out in public and spotted by a horny, perverted stranger allowed her to relax more than she had in months.

Andrew was often gone during the day, but at night he would always treat her to an excellent dinner, followed invariably by marathon sex in his bedroom. The man had stamina and a sex drive that was fairly amazing for his age. He would often fuck her for two hours, sometimes cumming two or three times before he was satisfied. He was rough with her, hammering away at her pussy or ass or mouth at will, switching whenever he wanted to, and deepthroating her until she retched and tears ran down her face. He would always say terrible things to her while inside her, about what a humiliated, ruined she was, and constantly making her repeat to him how many other men had used her holes before him. "One thousand, three hundred and five," repeated numerous times nightly until it was drilled into her brain.

But he also made her cum like no man had ever succeeded at doing. He knew just how to push her, how to use her humiliation and shame to push her over the edge, over and over. Crucially, his cruelty did not extend beyond the bedroom. As reluctant as she still was to say it outright, it was true that the inherent submissiveness in her, her unavoidable sexual response to being exposed, degraded, and humiliated, made it so that the type of sex he gave her was as good as it could get within the confines of a single, monogamous relationship. She still felt a vague apprehensiveness about everything, which would probably take years to overcome, but she started to imagine a life with Andrew.

He took her out to parties like the first one about once a week. Each time he would have a new wardrobe laid out for her to wear, although now he had the outfit entirely selected for her each time, with no options. It was always something fancy that she liked, anyway. Each time she would be treated to an in-house spa treatment, with manicures and pedicures, in the day before they went. Her skin had never felt softer.

For the second party it was a chilly night, and he had a silky gray dress for her, tall black leather high-heeled boots, and the softest mink fur coat she had ever felt in her life. Her stylist had dyed her hair a lighter shade of blonde the day before, almost silver, but intentionally leaving the roots her natural darker color. She treated her to her full procedure, soaking and moisturizing her feet, then painting all of her nails a deep, rich red, with lipstick to match. When she was ready to go Kattie felt like a movie star from Hollywood's golden age.

"One last thing," Andrew said when she came upstairs to join him, smiling at her attire. He pulled out a buttplug, slightly bigger than average but nothing too extreme. "Take your panties off and leave them here. You'll keep this in all night. I've already lubricated it, but there's more if you need it. Go ahead and put it in now."

Kattie took the plug from him and stared at it for a moment. If he wanted this, she would do it. It wasn't so much to ask. She looked at him and smiled bashfully for a moment, feeling stupid, and then pulled her panties down, lifting one booted foot and then the other to pull them off. She squatted down on the ground and pressed the tip of the plug against herself, feeling the ring of her anus first resist, and then slowly open, reluctantly, to accept the continued force of the intrusion. She bit her lower lip as she gave it a final forceful push, and then her asshole tried and failed to pinch shut around the flange, about the diameter of a quarter, locking it in place. The part inside her rectum was about the size of a lemon. She stood up awkwardly, feeling more stretched and violated than she had anticipated. She smiled awkwardly at Andrew again and then took his arm and he led her out to the car.

It was a brisk night out, early spring. It felt odd and strangely thrilling to feel the cool air blow up her skirt and touch her pussy, while the rest of her was swaddled in a warm coat. When she sat down in the car she shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to sit naturally with what now felt like an enormous intrusion in her ass.

Soon they were at the party. Kattie somewhat waddled in, feeling like everyone in the room knew she had a big plug up her ass as surely as if she were being x-rayed. The feeling of her asshole trying desperately to close but not being able to left her feeling very vulnerable, which in turn was making her feel unavoidably aroused. Whenever anyone spoke to her she tried to respond as nonchalantly as she could, but it felt as if her words were coming between halting breaths.

The night passed without much of note. She was more careful to watch how much she drank. She would hate to pass out in front of people twice in a row. Andrew had told her after last time that the alcohol they served at these events was of the highest quality, likely better than she'd ever had before, and it was so smooth that it could go right through you without realizing how drunk you were getting until it was too late. So she sipped a glass of champagne and avoided any drinks that might have liquor in them.

People greeted them, most taking time to specifically talk to her, not just Andrew, some of them as if she was an old friend. She recognized several of the same people from last time, although she had very few actual memories of interacting with any of them. All the while she shifted awkwardly, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

She followed Andrew around, waddling with her high heeled boots lifting her ass up, her legs strolling, trying to look natural around the big plastic intrusion shoved up between them. She was also highly conscious of the lack of panties. Feeling the breeze of the room directly against her labia and asscheeks made her feel naked among all these people. She kept fearing the plug would pop out of her sphincter and land on the floor right in front of a horrified crowd, but she knew it had to be in there too tight to do so. The violation and fear of exposure had made her wet. She became concerned that her pussy grool would start running down her thighs, too. She felt incognito from her normal reputation here. The thought of all these fancy, wealthy people realizing she just served as a nasty slut both mortified and, of course, excited that damned side of her psyche, ever present deep down. The side indirectly responsible for all the ruinous turns her life had taken.

She kept her alcohol intake slow and meager. The night passed without too much fuss. She felt continuously at risk of exposing herself, but she never did. When she sat the plug would burrow deeper into her rectum, maybe into her colon, and she would shift uncomfortably, feeling as if her situation was obvious to all these people. Still, no one commented or cast her askance glances.

They returned home a few hours later and Kattie felt buzzed but luckily was still cognizant this time. Andrew took her straight to his bedroom and had her undress, removing everything except her tall boots. Then he bent her over, slowly pulled the plug out of her sore asshole until it cleared her sphincter with an audible pop, and then immediately replaced it with his swollen hard dick in her gaping shitter. She placed her hands flat against the window for balance as he railed her hard.

"How many men have used these filthy fucking holes?" he growled in her ear, as he always did.

"One thousand, three hundred and six," she panted, automatically.

He reached around and she felt him shoving the buttplug in her mouth, still coated in her anal juices. She knew better than to resist him. It invaded her mouth and her jaw strained strained around it, her tongue swirling for room around the filthy plastic.

"Keep saying it," he said.

"Ome thouthant thwee hunded and thix," she mumbled stupidly, hating it yet feeling strangely right in submitting to his degradation.

"Say it over and over."

She kept slurring it, her mouth fighting to form the syllables around the intrusion, while Andrew assaulted her colon, pounding into her viciously, the flesh on her asscheeks rippling with each thrust. With one hand he flicked her slippery clit expertly, bringing her to three shuddering orgasms as he rammed her, her knees buckling and fighting to stay upright. When he was ready to cum he grabbed one of her tits, squeezing it hard, like a stress ball between his fingers as she felt spurt after spurt of hot cum shoot up into her intestines.

He finally pulled out of her with a wet squelch. He took the plug from her mouth.

"Squat down," he ordered.

She did it compulsively. He reached down and shoved the plug right into her soaked cunt.

"Hope you cleaned it off well enough," he said. He cupped his hand under her asshole. "Shit my cum out."

She felt her face flushing red, but she did it. She pushed as hard as she could, over and over, until his cum splattered out of her asshole and into his hand in embarrassing wet farting noises. Once it was all out he smeared the puddle all over her face.

"Tell me what you are," he said, standing over her where she crouched at his feet and jerking off his cock, which was already regaining its rigidity.

She looked up at him, feeling utterly debased, ass-cum soaking her madeup features, a used ass-plug stretching her vagina open.

"I'm a ," she said, knowing what he wanted. "I'm your ."

He grabbed her head and impaled his cock into her face balls deep. She gagged and choked while he used her head and throat to bring himself to another orgasm. Finally, mercifully, he finished again, holding her head all the way down as he shot more cum right down her gullet. He pulled his considerable length out of her throat, freeing her airways. She collapsed to the ground and gasped in the precious air, coughing on the cum.

He caressed her face, suddenly gentle.

"Sleep in my bed tonight," he said. "Keep the plug up that cunt."

The next morning he was perfectly sweet to her again. At least his degradation took place in private, she thought. She was used to the same behavior and worse being shown to the whole world. She got out of bed, fully naked, and waddled to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet and gingerly pulled the plug out of her vagina. Her opening was rimmed red where the plastic had kept her stretched open all night. In its absence she felt relief mixed with flooding soreness as her genitals were allowed to return to their normal shape. When she showered and put on a bathrobe and went out, Andrew was smiling at her over a table set out with another grand breakfast.

And so it continued on like this, with a party every week or so, and between those, confined to the mansion, but pampered and waited on hand and foot. At each party he would have her dress in a completely different style, almost as if she were some doll he was playing dress up with, but she never questioned it. It was fun for her, in a way. She had always enjoyed taking care of herself, dolling herself up when she could. He would have her try styles she never would have done on her own, but that was part of the fun, in a way.

Sometimes she would be dressed up in a fairly normal, glamorous fashion, with nice dresses and french manicures, but then the next time she would be made up in a way that she considered to be somewhat trampy and embarrassing - a low cut, loose blouse you could see her braless nipples poking through, short jean shorts, a short bobcut black wig, ridiculously tall open-toed heels and bright red polish on her finger and toenails. One time he had her wear all black - dress, hair, lipstick, nail polish - like some goth diva. It seemed to always be the same people at the parties, like they were part of some weird society, although it could just be the society of San Francisco's rich elites. She wondered what they thought of her showing up like a completely different person each time.

After the third party he had given her ornaments to put back in her piercings - regular steel barbells for her nipples, and a ridiculous diamond thing for her clit. He said it was a waste not to use them. He told her he wanted her to keep them in whenever she was with him from now on.

The plugs became a regular fixture as well. He gave her a larger one to simultaneously keep in her pussy throughout the night as well, and after a week they both became a size larger. The intrusions felt so extreme that the feeling of being double penetrated all night was all she could focus on, and she was certain that these people either had to realize she was plugged, or assumed she was a vapid idiot for never being able to carry a conversation with any of them beyond on or two word responses. Her gait felt extremely awkward, but Andrew assured her it was all in her head.

At that third party she had blacked out yet again. She supposed she went a little harder on the alcohol that time, reassured by her success the time before, but it still happened unexpectedly. She woke up in Andrew's bed the next morning, only being able to recall a couple hours of the night before. Andrew told her it was her nerves causing her to drink more than she realized. At the fourth party it didn't happen, but then at the fifth it did again.

She knew now that something had to be going on. She lay in Andrew's bed alone the next morning, feeling between her legs. She slowly eased out both of her large plugs. They made her sore enough on their own that it would be difficult to tell if her body had been used in any other ways without her recollection. She took a shower, knowing Andrew was waiting for her at the breakfast table upstairs. Her hands shook as she considered confronting him about what was really happening to her at these parties, but she knew she had to ask.

She got out, dried off, and put her bathrobe on her naked body. She took a deep breath, and then walked down the hall to the main part of the house.

Andrew was sitting at the table, smiling at her over a full spread, as expected. She sat down and sipped on the mimosa that was already sitting out waiting for her.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

She nodded without making eye contact with him. She struggled for the words to say but came up with nothing. She nibbled out some of the food with no appetite. She went through three mimosas while engaging Andrew in awkward small talk. Finally he leaned forward and put his hand over hers.

"Is something on your mind, Kattie?" he asked, looking compassionately into her eyes.

She took another big sip of her drink.

"I passed out again last night."

"You did."

"Why does that keep happening? Am I being drugged?"

Andrew smiled at her.

"I wondered when you'd ask me that. I think you're ready for me to come clean about our arrangement. Come with me."

He got up and walked away. Kattie followed him, her sense of foreboding rising. He led her to his office. A large monitor was mounted to the wall, which was connected to his computer. When she saw him sit down in the chair and boot up the computer, her heart sank. This couldn't be going anywhere good.

"Take a seat," he told her, gesturing toward a plush leather armchair in the corner. She did so, trying to hide her hand shaking as she held her glass.

His computer was running, projecting his desktop to the monitor. He turned and faced her.

"I first want to say that I do not believe I have betrayed the initial terms I set out at the beginning of your residence here. I said then, correctly, that your reputation, your capacity for a 'normal' existence in this puritanical society, is already ruined. Nothing I could do would change that. I told you that you were free to go at any time, as you were and are, but that if you stayed here I would protect you from death, from slavery. I never promised you privacy, or a total retreat from the lifestyle that is now bound to you with or without me. I told you that I would cultivate and shape your basest desires, those that, inadvertently or not, got you into this situation. That I would make them work for you, rather than against you. I never lied to you. What I am about to show you is the first part of that process. You will feel angry toward me at first when I show you this, but I think you will come to realize it was a necessary first step. You might not have agreed otherwise, and then...who knows where you'd be."

She was shaking visibly now, not even bothering to try to hide it.

"For these first few weeks you must have found my demands of you to be rather mild. They must have appeared so. But here are the secret machinations that were working under the surface."

He clicked something. A video popped up on screen. It took her a moment to realize what it was. It was candid footage of her, well shot but inconspicuously, chatting in a crowd of people. It was the first party he'd taken her to. She was wearing that first, shimmery gold dress, her hair done up in an Asian bun on her head. The footage continued for a while, following her as she chatted awkwardly to strangers or sat alone in a chair in the corner as people milled by, nursing a drink. She had been completely unaware of the camera. It made cuts, but it showed the full extent of her gradual descent into a blackout state.

"The roofies I gave you were of the highest quality," he said to her. "Very safe, very reliable, with no hangover."

She kept staring at the screen, her jaw clenching, a vein in her forehead starting to pulse. Soon the video was showing Andrew, along with a gaggle of men from the party, leading the loopy, stumbling Kattie to a back room at the party. He skipped ahead. Now she was on all fours on a table, barefoot, her dress hiked up around her waist, some suited man railing her from behind, another in her mouth. He skipped again, several times. She didn't know how many men had their way with her. At least 20, maybe 40. Some of them she recognized as men she'd conversed with at multiple parties.

Andrew was grinning at her. "You didn't think I'd do the world the disservice of keeping that lovely cunt all to myself did you?"

She didn't say anything. He skipped to the next video. The night he made her go with the ripped booty shorts and black bobcut wig, like sexy trailer trash. That one went much the same as the previous one, with candid footage of her earlier in the night, followed by half the party fucking her raw. This one ended with a good dozen of them finishing on her face, her overdone mascara and red lipstick smeared across her face by a collective pint of semen.

Kattie was still just staring at the screen, not looking at him.

"So this is why you took me to those parties," she said. "Was everyone there in on this? They were all just coming for the opportunity to use a middle-class ?"

"Not all of them," Andrew said calmly. "It is a rather elite club, and most of the people there have an idea that there are certain rooms you don't go in if you're not invited. But they are discrete, enlightened people. The only people invited to partake in your charms were hand-selected by me. I slipped a card to those I deemed worthy. The rest didn't know that it was you, specifically, who were the entertainment. Though they may have had a hunch, as you accompanied me."

"How many used me?"

"62 total, across the three parties where you were out. Many were repeats. So 1,368 is your real number now."

She still didn't look at him. The screen was now showing her being used the night she went in that ridiculous goth getup. She swallowed.

"Were you ever going to tell me this if I didn't ask?"

"Of course. I knew you'd ask eventually, but I certainly would have told you soon either way. I didn't want to continue like that forever. I'm ready to move to the real arrangement of our relationship going forward, assuming you aren't ready to run out the door."

She finally looked at him now, a single tear now rolling down her cheek, as much as she'd tried to stave it off. Her mind was racing, recalibrating everything she thought about this man, weighing whether she wanted to stay with this manipulator, even if he was rich. Whether it would be better to face the unpredictability and possibly greater cruelty of the outside world.

There's only more pain waiting for you out there, she thought. At least here it's a known quantity now. And at least he's honest, if belatedly, about his manipulation. Others have not been so forthcoming. And he did warn me, in a roundabout way. Maybe it was my own stupidity to assume he wouldn't take things further.

Outwardly her face just trembled. More tears came.

"Remember the process I spoke of. I never implied it would be easy. I'm very familiar with the ins and outs of your situation, your story. And I am familiar with the forums and various webpages dedicated to you, familiar with the extreme interest a growing number of men around the world have in you. Your fandom, so to speak. I have to keep tabs on them, and on their desires, both nefarious and understandable.

"Of course I have to whet their appetites. These videos were streamed live to them, and a great amount of attention and excitement was paid to them. I know they've been duplicated and reuploaded in other places, which is inevitable. It is part of your canon now. The three videos have already been viewed a collective 600,000 times, and that will only grow in time. I let the forum users vote on your appearance at each party. They like to have some input, and I see nothing wrong with that.

"I didn't give you the drug every single time, because I didn't want you to catch on too quickly. I wanted you to eventually, but not right off the bat. We had to allow enough time to pass."

She looked at him strangely, through the tears. "Enough time for what?"

He smiled sympathetically at her. "Enough time to collect all this."

He switched to another window. It took her several seconds to realize what she was looking at. A page of different thumbnails, each labeled differently. At the top was "Live," and then another link said "Archive".

"The complete chronicle of your life in private. Or what you thought was private. A sort of final frontier with you, which I hope you will recognize was important to cross."

She felt her heart rate soar, and felt her face flush with heat as she looked at the various thumbnails and the implications set in with a growing sense of dread. They were labeled things like "Bedroom," "Sauna," "Bathroom Wide," "Facing Toilet," and, most disturbing of all, "Toilet Interior." They were on the Live page so at the moment every angle was empty, but the "Archive" link told her everything she needed to know.

"You were spying on me," she said, her voice a whisper.

"Spying is not the word I would use. I warned you to expect no privacy here. Now you see why."

He clicked to the Archive page. Within there was a separate page for every individual day, going back for every day she had been here, for weeks. There were cameras hidden in every corner of her suite, covering multiple angles of every room. They had such good shots, in full lighting and color, HD resolution, she had no idea how she could have missed them. But she'd never had any idea. They were in her bedroom, her workout room, the sauna. Four were in the bathroom alone: one covering the whole room in a wide shot, one hidden inside the mirror, one directly facing the toilet, and one somehow embedded in the toilet bowl itself, pointing straight up, missing nothing and as well lit as the others. You could click to switch between them at will, or show multiple at once. She started to feel sick in her stomach as she realized the full implication.

He clicked on yesterday's archive. The program was set to only save recordings when there was movement on screen, so people browsing through didn't have to skip through hours of empty footage. It was all action. She saw herself washing her face, topless, staring right into the camera/mirror, completely oblivious. She cringed as she saw herself softly and badly singing a tune to herself, thinking herself alone, not being watched by thousands of perverts online. Of course the cameras captured sound as well.

Then the moment she dreaded came. She had hoped he would have censored it, but of course he didn't. She pulled down her panties, the only thing she was wearing, and sat on the toilet. The straight-ahead toilet camera saw her come into view and sit, her panties around her bare ankles, directly facing the camera and not seeing it at all. She flexed her toes on the cold tile as she prepared to relieve herself. The camera was less than three feet away from her, capturing her whole form.

Simultaneously she had seen her ass and pussy float above the toilet bowl from the inner cam, some subtle lighting mechanism activating as her undercarriage filled the porcelain hole, leaving nothing to the imagination, just thighs and asscheeks and asshole and labia framed like some obscene artwork, lit in natural color. After a few seconds her stream of piss came down and splashed in the bowl. When she was done you could see tiny goosebumps freckling her flesh, all over her thighs and ass, tiny water droplets here and there where it had splashed back up. The tiny, nearly invisible hairs covering her skin - more detail than you'd even notice if you were looking at it in real life. The detail was unbelievable. Back on the front camera, she saw her eyes close and her features contort in a slight grunt as the inner camera showed her asshole bulge out slightly, and then release a full bowel movement splashing with a heinous splatter into the toilet.

She couldn't look at the screen. She felt light in the head, and then she felt herself falling into blackness. When she came to, Andrew was holding her head off the floor, peering compassionately down at her.

"You passed out," he said.

Her head was reeling. She went to the computer and clicked through the different days of the archive, already knowing what she would find. Every moment she'd been in those quarters where she'd lived for the past several weeks was recorded. Every time she used the toilet, showing in perfect clarity her bowels or bladder emptying itself, showing as she wiped, showing every detail of her most private moments, her private routines. She couldn't look at it any more. She felt sick. It was the final level of degradation she had never before been subjected to. Not like this. The most egregious violation of privacy, things no one should have ever seen - not a theoretical husband, probably not a doctor - no one, committed to permanent widespread dissemination and documentation on the internet. She couldn't bear to even see the footage, what anyone in the world could look at if they wanted to.

"It's a bit much, I know," Andrew said. "Even for your fans, not all of it will be everyone's cup of tea. But it's important to have. To be thorough. This is an important part of your training toward total submission, and thus of total peace. This will be the most difficult part."

She was sitting on the ground now with her legs bent under her and her feet splayed to either side, the course of her recent life flashing through her mind, how sudden the change was, how unlikely, how completely divorced from how she had imagined her life would go, from the trajectory it had been on. Unable to help it, she began to sob in ugly gasps.

Andrew took her into his arms, and she didn't even try to resist it. She knew she should be furious with him, and was, but his authoritative confidence and warmth was too much. It just felt good to be held by someone. Maybe he was right anyway. Maybe this is what it would take. All she deserved now.

He stroked her hair. "I know it's hard, and I'm sorry it has to be this way. But I know what I'm doing. You have to be broken before you can be remade. Remember I'm doing this to help you, Kattie. It will be painful at times. Your life, as you previously knew it, was already ruined. I am simply working within the confines of the situation as they already exist, trying to salvage true ownership of your lot in life for you. This was the first, necessary step. You had to realize that normal privacy, normal agency of your sexuality is gone. You have to learn to embrace and flourish in humiliation, in submission. You must learn to forget the concept of privacy."

She let him hold her, hating herself for it, and broke down.

"Let it all out," he said. "It's ok."

"Are we being filmed now?" she asked.

"No. There are no cameras anywhere else in the house but in your quarters. I promise."

She clutched him, the sobs wracking her. She felt his hand suddenly travel under the bottom of her robe, and his fingers brushed her labia. To her humiliation and resentment she was soaked.

"You see?" he said, holding the dripping fingers up in front of her. "This is what is good for you. You can't help it. Your resistance is where the pain comes from. Lean into it. Accept the fact that nothing turns you on more than being forced into a life of exposure and humiliation, of being the ultimate publicly owned, bottom bitch in the world. If you'll pardon me saying so. You can't go any lower.

"Abandon the concept of dignity. Is it not just bound to defeat you over and over again? Whatever the true story is. However you got into this. The reluctant closet exhibitionist who had her most private, shameful desire forced on her, shown to the world, and taking with it any hopes for her to ever have a normal life. It's over. It is written in stone. You would have never done this to yourself on your own, or even wanted to, really. Only in your fantasies. But now you're here. And the fact that this reality is so horrifying to you is exactly why it is so darkly and perversely pleasure, is it not? Your pushback is what perpetuates the cycle. The more humiliated you are, the more turned on you are. But that is mental. That feedback loop is something we will not be able to do anything about. But why should we?

"Pleasure is not a crime, not in itself. It's a very interesting predicament your brain chemistry has put you in. But what we can do is train your response. Learn to relish it. No more of these tears. Since you are already trapped in it, I will help to make these most deep-seated desires come true. In a safe, fulfilling way. But you must learn to trust me. Learn to surrender. You will think, many times, that what I am putting you through is not what you want. Not on the surface. But it will be what you need. It is the only way women like you can ever find true satisfaction in life. I have seen it many times, although of course you are the most extreme case. You are meant to be used by and serve others. In a way I think you should be thankful to whoever trapped you in this, though I know you'll resent to hear me say it. It's your true calling. To be a sort of freely-given pleasure-girl to the world. A blank slate for anyone to enact their fantasies on. There should be more like you, serving this role. It is honorable, in a way.

"While you are with me, I will subject you to total immersion in sexual submission and humiliation and exposure. We should be clear about that. You will be pushed beyond the furthest extremes of humiliation and exhibition and sexual subservience you can imagine. But that awaits you whether you stay here or not. Only in the outside world, it will be far less controlled. Far less directed. And it will be far more dangerous."

Kattie quaked in his arms. She was soaked, somewhat indignant, and above all else confused. Hearing him dismantle her psychology like that, lay out her reality so bluntly and accurately, was both mortifying and strangely comforting. As much as some small part of her felt she should defend herself, and would have in a past life, the overwhelming urge now was just to collapse into this man, into his authority. It would be so easy, so relieving to just let someone take firm, confident direction of what remained of her destroyed life. She didn't want to have to try to make her own choices anymore, or fight this. He was right. What else could she do? She should just give up. Be property. Forfeit all claim to agency or responsibility in this doomed fate.

She heard herself take a pathetic, shuddering gasp, and then spill herself to him.

She told him, again, that she had been set up to begin with, that while she had private fantasies about exposure, she couldn't help them, and would have never chose to make it come true. She knew she'd already told him this, but she heard herself reiterating it. She heard herself apologizing to him for breaking down like this, that she thought she'd had the feeling suppressed, how she didn't allow herself to really think about all of it, didn't allow herself to think about those initial feelings since the first day, but now it was all hitting her. She had shut it all away deep in her brain to survive.

He listened, knowing he had the power. He could be gentle and kind as he wished. She felt herself confiding in him because she had no one else, in all this time had had no one else to be vulnerable about this to. She knew he was a warped dominant figure to cling to, but it still felt better than holding it in. For these few years she had really been completely alone, bottling up all the stress and insanity of her life falling apart. He was the closest thing to a partner she was going to get. Someone who knew everything and accepted it, accepted her. It was the only form of emotional support, of real human connection she would find in this world.

She recounted out loud how disgusted and used she had felt after those first 20 dicks, on that first day when her whole life had suddenly collapsed. Her current number was just unimaginable, and she had tried to become numb to it. The fact that her body betrayed her at every turn only made it worse, encouraged everyone to feel justified. When she'd first had these secret fantasies, never revealed even to her boyfriend, of being treated like a cumrag, it was only because it was so shameful, so taboo. She had always secretly looked down on slutty girls all her life. She didn't harshly judge them in a religious way, but thought they were tacky or flawed in some way. And now she was famously the lowest slut of all. What would the younger version of herself say if she could see the way her life would turn out? She would hate herself, wonder what the hell went wrong. There was no conceivable way to get from there to here. And yet it had happened. She would have never imagined it was possible to be 27 and living as the sex slave of some man, shared with the world, her dignity removed in every way possible.

When she finally stopped blabbering she was humiliated that she had revealed all she did to him. Humiliated in her own openness. But he just stroked her hair and held her.

"It's alright now," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "But what has happened has happened. You will overcome this, with my help. Things will be different now, going forward. There will be new rules, new arrangements in this house. The curtain has been pulled back, and that is for the best. Just remember it is necessary to help you. But for today, go rest."

Eventually she went back downstairs. She sat on her couch, acutely aware now that she was being recorded, as she could expect to be at all hours. She drank a few screwdrivers that Andrew had sent down to her, staring numbly ahead. She absently glanced around the room, trying to locate the cameras, but found no trace of them. What difference did it make? She couldn't escape this. At least here there were four walls around her.

At some point she passed out. 1,200 viewers saw her do so live. They could see where her pussy soaked straight through her panties as she settled into her dream

Hey guys. One of the things that turn me on is reading your comments when you read this. The more comments, the faster I post another chapter. Please let me know what you think. These are the things I'd like to know:

1. did the story um get a rise out of you? how did it make you feel?
2. Which character if any, would you like to be?
3. Do you have any ideas what our heroin should do or what should happen to her.
4 Should I continue posting these.
5. Would you like to run across kattie in your town?

If you really really enjoy....
Kattie's New Reality Chapter 3
Posted:Jun 13, 2024 9:50 am
Last Updated:Jun 30, 2024 3:55 pm
I finally got out and dried off. I had to ransack the stranger's drawers for some oversized clothes I could put on. Boxers that I tied on with a belt, and a t shirt 3 sizes too big for me that acted basically as a dress. I tepidly entered the living room and found the guy passed out on the couch, several empty cans of beer next to him. His cock was out and there were two opened packs of condoms nearby. He had obviously continued having his way with me once he'd brought me back here.

I quietly exited, heading out barefoot in my ridiculous dress. I headed toward the road. I had begun my self-destructive party Friday night. It was now Sunday morning, as I could tell by an LED sign out front of a nearby gas station. I took stock of my surroundings. I was a few miles away from my own apartment.

I managed to hitch back there. An older woman took pity on the obviously distressed, battered girl bare-legged and barefoot on the street. The door to my apartment was open. My roommate still didn't appear to be back, luckily. Many of my belongings had been ransacked.

Miraculously my phone and wallet were still in the place I hid them. I got all of the rest of my things I could fit in a duffelbag and left before my roommate could come back and explode at me. I had to get a new address AGAIN.

I went to the far end of LA and stayed a few days in a cheap motel. It was then that I finally forced meself to watch the videos of what had been done to me. I flushed with embarrassment at the things I had said to the camera. How could I have gotten so drunk and done this to myself? I skipped through the hours of footage but saw enough to get the picture. I hated myself all over again seeing it, and yet my battered cunt still produced a thick and ceaseless flow of juice as I viewed my abuse and shame. I deserved everything that happened to me.

It wasn't the hideous acts the seemingly endless succession of men committed on me that shocked and shamed me the most (the world had seen plenty of that), it was my own words and actions I witnessed that made me want to shrivel up and die all over again. For the first few hours, before I just became a virtual unresponsive fuckdoll, I behaved exactly like a pornstar. I happily got into absurd porn positions for the guys to fuck me in the most camera-friendly ways, encouraged each guy to "fuck me in my nasty little pussy," and other equally stupid expressions, begging for each man's cum and then thanking him for donating it to my worthless holes. For a while a guy fucked me in my ass while displaying me "full nelson" style, with me facing out and holding my legs spread wide for the camera. Guys would step in to use my pussy for a bit, then would cum and leave it vacated, just an empty hole above my cock-stuffed asshole. I saw myself fishing the cum out of my pussy at those moments and drizzling it into my mouth, sucking it off each finger.

I remembered doing none of this. I thought of who would inevitably see this back home. My face grew hotter with each successive person I thought of. No one would ever believe that I was set up for this life to begin with, now. There would be no shred of doubt in anyone's mind that I was anything other than a true, wanton slut who couldn't control herself. And apparently they'd be right. This was all in me. I did deserve all the shame, all the public outing. I shifted in place and realized how absolutely filled my panties were with girlcum. I stuck a hand down the front of my underwear and pulled out a thick, roping strand that flowed in clear sheens down my finger. I stared at it with my mouth hanging open like I was dumbfounded by it.

I got another apartment. It wasn't the best, but it would work. I didn't have the drive to move cities again...what difference would it even make? But at least they didn't know my address anymore.

I couldn't help but continue to monitor the forums. The obsession that some guys showed was starting to scare me. Was it only a matter of time before someone did something truly terrible to me? Murder...sold into sex trafficking?

In addition to all the fairly regular people who surely followed my exposure and guiltily pleasured themselves to it, I had become the pet slut of some strange and likely sinister corner of the internet, and they couldn't get enough of me. Couldn't get enough of the details of my life, current and past, and of the details of my body. Every single millimeter of it, just for the sake of removing any micron of privacy I might have held onto. And they wanted more. Some of the ideas posted in the "What would you like to see happen to Kattie?" threads were simply unspeakable. They wanted to wreak every form of destruction that a girl could imaginably be subjected to, upon me.

There were some guys who had tattoos of my face on them. I wasn't just some pornstar to them. The lurid reality, the all-encompassing, life-ruining reality of my story especially appealed to creeps. One guy posted pictures of his room, which he had turned into some kind of bizarre shrine dedicated to me. Photos of me lined the walls of his room, hundreds of them. From regular portraits from my old life to glossy printouts of my bukkaked face and everything in between. He collected mementos that people had taken and sold at various times: my old driver's license, a lock of my hair when it was dyed red, several pairs of dirty panties, all carefully sealed to preserve my scent. I was mortified. What was stopping a guy like this from kidnapping me and keeping me in some locked dungeon for the rest of my life to be his personal sex slave?

More weeks passed and soon I was back to being "taken" in the streets about once a week. I didn't fight, just used my skills that I had acquired to get them off as fast as possible and hope the whole time that this wouldn't be the guy who decided to keep me as his own. Six new men in just over a month and a half. Luckily none of them took it too far, or saw where I lived. They took the risk of fucking me, got off, then came to their senses and bailed. Who knows how many other people every day recognized me but didn't muster the courage to approach.

One day I received a text from a hidden number. I didn't know how he had gotten my number, but it was obviously one of my more obsessive fans. He started out by sending me mocking barbs, pictures of me and my parents posing together at my highschool graduation, me smiling in my cap and gown, and then asking "Do you think they're proud of their baby girl now?" He continued for a while with more disparaging and hurtful comments and images, but I just ignored him for a while.

Finally he began to escalate. He began to detail the things he'd like to do to me. Most of it was worse than the things typically written on the forums. He said he was going to kidnap me and sell me to his connections in the human trafficking industry. That I would spend every day of the rest of my life in a dark hut in Liberia getting fucked by 40 new raw black dicks a day, getting pregnant over and over and catching every disease known to man until my shit was so wrecked even a homeless man wouldn't fuck me with someone else's dick. This was already starting to really disturb me, but on the third day when I pulled out my phone and reluctantly checked the latest message he sent, I nearly had a heart attack.

It was a picture of my current apartment from the outside. my heartrate was flying off the scales. Another picture came in. It was me in my room the night before, taken through the window. I was looking down at my phone, oblivious to the danger. I automatically looked up at my window to make sure he wasn't still there right now.

I was thankful my roommates were home at least. I didn't sleep a wink that night, the whole time just waiting for someone to break through my window and take me. I knew I could not continue living life like this, unprotected. But I had no idea what else to do.

I moved again the next morning. I kept my life small enough to fit into a single duffelbag, still. I couldn't just move neighborhoods again. This guy had scared me badly. I got the first bus I could board to San Francisco.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I was in the same situation here. I moved from cheap hotel to cheap hotel. I didn't want to stay in the same place for more than a night or two. San Francisco was expensive. I didn't know if i'd be able to afford even a shitty apartment with roommates at the moment. I moved from place to place. I always looked over my shoulder. I knew I couldn't keep this up long. My money was running out and I had nothing I could do to make real money. I began to feel a serious creeping despair that was threatening to overwhelm me. Two weeks in San Francisco and I had already been recognized a handful of times. Fucked in the street on two occasions, by five different men total. I was about to have a complete nervous breakdown, feeling unable to go anywhere or do anything. I had no options.

Then Andrew came into me life.

It happened on my 20th day in San Francisco. I had been recognized for the third time in this city, and was made to give my pussy to three new guys behind a liquor store. Mr. 1303, Mr. 1304, and Mr. 1305. They filmed and claimed to be streaming straight to my forums. The third guy was taking his turn with me when the police pulled up. He yanked his cock out of me so quick I yelled, and pulling his basketball shorts back up, he took off with the other two. They got enough of a head start that the cops didn't even bother to chase them. They were more interested in me anyway, this apparent with my panties around my ankles and cum leaking from me cunt. I didn't even try to run.

They booked me for and indecent exposure. My weak protests did nothing to help me. They were out to pad their numbers. They were not inclined to believe me. The position and circumstance they found me in was certainly not one that indicated that i didn't want it. I sat in the holding cell and contemplated more months in jail again. They set my bail at $1000.

It was Andrew who bailed me out, six hours later. I knew the instant I saw him that he was there for me. He was older, probably in his late 50s, but fit and handsome. He was well-dressed. When he first saw me he broke out into a strange yet somehow comforting smile. He exuded authority. For some reason I immediately began to trust him.

The cops turned me over to him without a question once he paid my bail. I went with him voluntarily to his car. It was a Cadillac. It smelled new. There were very few words of introduction between us. His voice/accent reminded me of Sean Connery. Utterly British with a Scottish twist. I understood his motives without having to be told. He had to know me from my online notoriety. It was how he had known where to come looking for me. He probably knew what every single inch of me body looked like. Had probably seen every manner of repugnant thing done to me. By his firmness and the effortless confidence which oozed from him, I knew that he approved of what he had seen. This was to be no standard, good-Samaritan liberation. He would be a savior of sorts. But it would come with many things he would require of me.

I knew all this intuitively, within moments of meeting him. He knew I knew, as well. The ride back to his place in the hills above the city only began to confirm the details of the offer I knew had to be coming.

"You have nowhere to go, do you?" he asked me. His voice was warm but carried in it already hints of the biting authority I knew he had to be capable of, as if at any moment he could snap into giving a command. His hand rested on my thigh, but respectfully low, near my knee. I didn't try to shrink from it.


"I thought not. You have no prospects of any kind, do you?"

I looked out the window. The city dropped and rolled away beneath them.

"No." My voice was soft, just above a whisper.

He took me chin in his hand and turned me face to him.

"You will be alright now. If you want to be."

Night was falling when we arrived at his house. It had an incredible view of the city, of the bay and the bridge. I couldn't imagine how rich he had to be to afford this. I couldn't imagine how lucky I was to get swooped up by this guy instead of literally anyone else it could have been.

We had wine on an elevated patio that hung halfway off the hillside, after I showered and put on the most comfortable bathrobe I had ever felt. He said he lived here alone. This wasn't his only house. He didn't talk about himself much at all beyond that. We mused over small talk and little nothings for a while. He did not seem to be in any rush. I found myself almost liking him.

"I want to protect you, Kattie. I am well aware of the particulars of your situation, and the particularly unique predicament you are in. There is no need to elaborate at present, unless you wish to. There will be time aplenty. I feel that I am uniquely capable of offering you a fitting living situation. As you can probably imagine, our relationship will not be a standard one. I am not a man of normal sexual tastes nor a respecter of norms. I will not gloss over the fact that I can be demanding. But I think if you choose to take me up on what I am prepared to offer you, you will find yourself more than satisfied in all of the various needs I suspect you have."

I sipped my wine and stared down at the lights far below.

"I don't know that I have much of alternatives anyway, but I have to say whatever you are prepared to offer me is probably a hell of a lot better than whatever else would be coming for me." I smiled a little at him. It was probably the first time I had smiled in months.

He returned it. Something in me melted. His hard-set eyes examined me in the subtle light.

"I know you must be afraid of what some of your less savory fans might do to you if they find you. I won't parse words there. You are correct to fear it. In fact, I'm amazed worse hasn't befallen you already. Not to minimize that which you have endured, but...plenty of men out there would be more than happy to force you into a situation you could never remove yourself from. One that would not even appeal to a woman with your...sensibilities."

I blushed into my wine glass. I knew he meant "a woman who has an uncontrollable sexual urge to be disgraced and used and humiliated." I didn't even try to explain or defend myself.

"I have seen plenty of discussion of interest in having you kidnapped and turned into the most pitiful and doomed of sex slave on the planet -- the kind that are chained naked to a wall and never permitted to leave their cinder block cell or see sunlight, ever. If they had their way you would have your legs tied open and be forced to do nothing but watch as 50 new men a day sloppily and harshly had their way with you, peasants in the third world who would pay a dollar each to fuck a white cunt. Then you'd be served your one meal of gruel a day and permitted to sleep for four hours before it was all repeated over again, every day for the rest of your life. I don't say this to be crude or scare you unnecessarily. This is the reality of life for many tens of thousands of invisible women around the world. It is simply a fact that there are some who want to see this done to you for no other reason than the pure cruelty and control of it. They want to see you truly reduced to nothing, as punishment for being what you are. And that's just assuming someone doesn't kill you first. They will keep taking it further."

My hands were trembling slightly. I set the glass down so it would be less obvious. Unbidden, tears started to form in the corners of my eyes.

He touched the side of my face and made me look at him.

"I can offer you protection from that. And in far lovelier confines than, I would guess, almost anyone else so inclined would be able to offer you."

He refilled both of our glasses.

"We can discuss the exact particulars later, but there will be terms to our arrangement. I will require you to submit to me, perhaps more fully than you have ever submitted to anyone. I will have rules for you. You will do whatever I say, so long as you are here with me under my protection. My rules will be fair. My actions will be measured. My firmness will be for your own good. I will guide and sculpt the desires that I already know are inside of you. I will show you how to take ownership of them, to gain power and purpose from them. You will be permitted to leave at any time of your choosing, of course. I do not seek to make you a prisoner. But I will not disguise the fact that I am absolutely positive that the life I can offer you here will be far better for you than anything that may await you out there."

He swept his hand out and gestured at the lesser world below.

"But you will submit to me entirely while under my guidance and protection. Do you understand?"

I looked into those dark, unblinking eyes. I knew in that moment that this man must be capable of what most people would call cruelty. I did not know how far. But at the same time he had a way of making me feel as if I maybe deserved whatever cruelty he might see fit to bestow upon me. I nodded, meekly.

He smiled.

"You are the loveliest form of weak and broken. I am glad fate finally brought us together."

He stroked the side of my face again, carefully feeling my smooth ivory skin. I trembled.

"Do not be frightened," he said. "This is the only way you will gain ownership of your nature and situation. I will cultivate, use, and develop your tendencies. I will teach you to love them and live in constant pleasure, though not of the kind most people imagine. You will be safe here. We will have our own world together. You won't have to worry about the actions and opinions of everyone out there anymore. With me there will be no material wants in your life. I will give you whatever you need. These needs will be dictated by me. You will have the best medical care. A woman with your lifestyle is at severe risk for AIDS, cervical cancer, and everything else under the sun, as I'm sure you know, if you don't already have them. To be frank, the human body has not evolved to protect itself against so many sexual partners as you've had."

I flushed again in shame. He was calling me an abomination of nature. But he was right.

"I imagine you didn't have any health insurance on your own. Well now you won't need it. You'll have the best doctors in the country as your personal physicians, and it won't cost you a cent."

His eyes flicked up and down my body. He leaned closer to me, then gently pulled open my bathrobe, revealing my nakedness beneath. He looked at it for along time, his eyes roving as long as they wanted to.

"You have, no matter what the true story is, found yourself in a particularly unique situation in life. But you have yet to fully accept it. You've gone through waves of acceptance, or resignation rather, but they're always fleeting. You always revert. I will teach you not only to accept it but to love it. The love for it is in there, I know, but your shame hides it. I will teach you to use that shame, to use it as a crucible for the greatest pleasure imaginable. Only I can do this for you. But you have to allow yourself to trust me completely. As you said though, what other choice do you really have?"

He leaned back and laughed loudly, inappropriately pleased with himself. I started to shut my robe again after his hands left.

"Don't," he said. "Just leave it open. You must learn you have nothing to hide from me. You're right though. Your reputation, your future with any hope of any kind of normal life is already ruined. It's gone forever, completely impossible, it doesn't matter how much you want to return to it. I know you do, but you can't, you wont. But, I will show you another kind of life is possible for you. My offer to you should be seen as a godsend, given your particulars."

He took a big swig of wine.

" accept?"

I took a sip as well. I was feeling flushed. I let my robe stay open and fought the urge to shudder as the Pacific breeze blew in and grazed my naked breasts, hardening my nipples.

"I do."

He smiled. He had, of course, known I would from the moment he'd bailed me out of jail.

He turned the subject to trivial matters then, and for the rest of the evening proceeded to charm me as if I were a normal, respectable date. He said the details of their arrangement would be made clear in coming days, but for now to relax and enjoy myself with no reservations.

We fucked that night, in his bed. He made love to me passionately, but fairly normally. His cock was large, but not particularly so. It was the most regular sex I had had since I had dated Kevin and been under the impression he was a normal guy who thought I was a normal girl. Andrew kissed me, took the time and care of foreplay. It was the first time someone had had sex with me like I was a person and not just a piece of meat in well over a year.

But at one point, right as he was fucking me doggy style and quickening his pace, preparing to finish, he said: "Tell me what number I am."

I was panting heavily as he thrust into me. I looked back over me shoulder.


"Tell me how many fucking men have used this cunt before me."

I faced forward again and stared out the full length window in front of me, looking over the city. In my mind I knew I was too small to actually see, but every person in the city could look my way and see me being fucked. My face peering thru the glass looking right at them. I took a deep breath.

"One thousand, three hundred and five. You're number 1306."

He grunted. He pushed himself as far into me as he could. His cock was hitting me cervix, pushing it further up into me. I felt him twitching and spasming inside of me, unloading pulse after pulse of hot cum directly onto that little entrance to my womb. Finally, when he was completely finished, he pulled his spent cock from me with a sigh of satisfaction. He collapsed onto the bed and pulled me against him, holding me with one arm.

"I've been waiting to feel that pussy for myself for a long time. I think it was worth the wait. 1306. I'll have to remember it. That might just be our lucky number."

I settled against his sweaty skin but didn't answer. I laid there, matching my breath to his rising and falling chest. Soon he was snoring. I got up and looked out the window at the city below. I certainly had never imagined myself ending up in a place like this. Eventually I went and laid back next to him. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. He was handsome, I bent naturally to his domineering attitude, he had all the riches I could need. It was surely vastly better than 99% of the other scenarios I could have ended up in. His talk of "rules" and everything else was slightly nerve-wracking to me, but I supposed that was only natural. My life as a purely sexual being was clearly not going to end, but maybe this way wouldn't be so bad? He seemed reasonable and fair enough. He clearly had dominant and possibly somewhat sadistic tendencies, but compared to what else that could happen to me, and in these upper-class quarters? I could have done far, far worse.

I settled in and pressed myself against him as he gently snored. It would be alright, I told myself. I started to drift off to sleep, suddenly more at ease than I had been in a long, long time.

I could not have known, of course, about the true depths of cruelty and deviance in the man I now slept against. Could not have known the manipulations, exploitations, and humiliations unthinkable even to me, after all I had been through, that awaited me in this house. I would only realize the true reality of the new situation I had been inserted into in time, very gradually, and with the same sense of denial that ha
d allowed me to persist this long in this life. But for tonight, I slept sound.
Business Junket
Posted:Jun 11, 2024 10:37 am
Last Updated:Jun 13, 2024 8:10 am
Yesterday I finished up all the plans for our bosses and top three house finders (guys that find super deals for our investors to buy houses) to go on an all expense paid trip to Cancun in July. I planned every detail. Getting the last of the rooms at the resort since it was planned so close to the departure date.

All the plane fares were bought, the transfers scheduled from the airport to resort, meeting rooms, lodging. a few specialty treats at the hotel, fishing, golf and even a Biker Fest weekend party scheduled for all of the guys. The resort was gracious to shoehorn us in.

I laid all the details out in front of my boss just before leaving yesterday.

This morning he says "i don't see your name on the airline list".

I'm like "cause i wasn't invited."

"of course you are going. it's your job to make sure everything runs smoothly ... to keep everyone happy."

I was dumbfounded. I just walked out of his office and was half way back to my cubical... what the hell does he mean "keep everyone happy?"

There are no available rooms. Now i'm gonna have to sweet talk two of the guys to share a room.

or... should i just refuse?

Kattie's Reality Sets In Chapter 2
Posted:Jun 10, 2024 12:10 pm
Last Updated:Jun 13, 2024 8:13 am

"Just give up the cunt, bitch. We know it's you. Be good for your word."

Kattie squealed under the muting palm of the guy behind her while the man between her legs got out his cock and buried it deep into her wet and hot snatch. He moaned as he sank all the way in. Of course her pussy had made it easy for him. She had started dripping the moment they called out to her on the street, despite herself. The angle and gravity of the position made her sink onto every millimeter of his cock. She felt his tip just nudging her cervix. Her cunt pressed grool into his pubic hair whn he thrust all the way in.

"Just as fucking advertised," he whispered, leaning close to her face, his breath rancid.

They laid her down behind a dumpster and took turns with her, one standing watch while the other went. They barely spoke from there on out -- just used her mouth and cunt, then left her lying panting and spread eagle on the pavement with their cum leaking out of her. They just took a few pictures of her lying there and left without another word.

Nothing more for two whole weeks, and then suddenly three bastards on successive days. The third guy was an older man in a suit who had been driving a nice car and pulled a U turn when he recognized her and followed her for a couple blocks . He filmed her face the whole time he fucked her. She had gotten wet enough that he was able to coat his dick in her pussy juice and use it as lube to fuck her ass.

"Are you that fucking who loves being used by strangers?" he asked her, pointing the camera right at her face.

She had no good response. Wasn't she? She shut her eyes and shook her head no.

"Then why is your pussy so fucking drenched?"

He pointed his phone down to her visibly messy cunt where it sat empty but leaked girlcum down to the dick fucking her ass just below. Strands of her slime stuck to his pubic hair and belly each time he thrust all the way into her ass and pulled out.

He was right. How would she ever be able to convince anyone she didn't want this when her body constantly reaffirmed that it did? Would that even make a difference to them?

She would go home after these assaults and shower and try to feel clean, but she knew she could never feel clean again in her life. She would always end up on the forums later, seeing the posts that the men always, without fail, made about their conquest, and would masturbate herself to shamed orgasm after orgasm. She had two female roommates who were rarely at home, but she still figured they had to hear her climaxing night after night in her room. She tried to stay quiet but it was difficult.

Hundreds of comments would pour in on every new thread about someone finding and fucking her. Countless nasty comments and words of praise for the men who put her in her place. Her current location of San Diego was revealed by one of the men. She knew people would only get more bold, now that they were seeing so many instances of guys going for it and having success. They were realizing you could get away with it.

She would go through endless waves of humiliation, then growing arousal and masochistic euphoria and back. The banner at the top of the forums had a collage of nice, personal pictures of her face, juxtaposed against pictures of her spread labia or her face completely covered in cum. There was a counter at the top that was kept up to date with her number of sexual partners. It read 1,092 right now. It proudly proclaimed itself "The largest fansite for Kattie Ann Duval on the web!" There were links to videos, to pictures, to anatomy shots, to her story (as they understood it) spelled out in great detail. It was important for them to impart the knowledge that she was a previously normal girl who had slid rapidly down a path of runaway self-destruction, quite obviously beyond her control. They liked the fact that she wasn't some pornstar or sex worker. There was a whole section that was just for safe-for-work pictures of her, for photos, videos, and stories of her life "passing as a shy, decent girl, before the day that everyone in her life found out she was the most insatiable shame- of all time."

Up and down the roller coaster of arousal followed by anxiety and shame would go. She would get soaked and literally shake with adrenaline as she furiously rubbed herself to orgasm while seeing this extreme exploitation of her body and life, and would feel alright until she came down. Then she would feel doomed and trapped, as if she could never show her face in public again, which would once again start making her horny. It was a vicious cycle she could not break out of. She spent all day, every day, either extremely horny, or extremely anxious and depressed and terrified. There was almost no in between. Her brain coursed with adrenaline or cortisol or both at all times.

Finally, dick number 1,093 followed her all the way home from her waitressing job one night. She was always on the lookout for guys who might be following her, and would divert her path and force a confrontation before they could find out where she lived, but this guy had been very effective at hiding himself. He finally revealed himself just as she was about to put her keys into her apartment door.

"Hey Kattie," he said, grinning horribly at her. He was maybe 40, dressed like he thought he was twenty years younger. Scraggly beard and unkempt hair. "Can I come inside?"

She froze, trying to think of her options. She knew at least one of her roommates was likely to be home.

"Come straight to my room," she said. "And please leave as soon as you're finished."

Sure enough, one roommate was sitting on the couch in the living room as she entered. She just glanced up at them as they entered and just briefly raised her eyebrows in greeting then looked back down at her laptop. Kattie quickly ushered her "date" back to her bedroom and let him have his way with her. The man was rough, and made sure her roommate heard as much of their fucking as possible.

He used her hard, in every hole, and left her with a pussy full of cum after taking plenty of pictures. Her roommate seeing him just leave immediately after a rough fuck session was almost more embarrassing than the sounds she must have heard. Her roommate would know for a certainty that she just got used and dumped in some capacity. Kattie didn't leave her room.

Later that night she saw him post all the pictures and details on her forums. He relayed all the details of how he had followed her without her noticing, posted the pictures he had secretly taken of her walking as he followed. Posted pictures of what her apartment looked like from the outside, the pictures of her after their quick and dirty fuck session, and then finally posted "if interested in her full address, just ask in the comments."

"I'm sure you all will have fun, boys," he posted. As Kattie read his post, the comment count started climbing. each time i refreshed the page, the number of comments were 40-75 counts higher. Finally the guy just posted "this is too many to answer individually. Here is her address" and he posted it correctly with a google map pin url.

I packed up my stuff that night and left. I couldn't deal with the possibility of a line of men waiting outside of may apartment every morning, every evening to use my holes.

She left a note for her roommate that apologized and explained to turn away anyone who might show up looking for her. She wasn't coming back. She left enough money to cover her rent that month, then she took her single duffel bag that contained all of her worldly possessions and split town.

She made it up the coast to LA. About 15 miles from where she grew up. She briefly toyed with the idea of moving to a small town where there wouldn't be so many people to recognize her, but quickly discarded the idea. Even small towns have internet, and when someone finally recognized her the ramifications and shaming would be far worse. Not to mention how much attention she would draw moving to a place like that out of nowhere. At least in a large city there was the anonymity of numbers. Just another face in the crowd.

Another month to month apartment. I quickly found another server job. I started wearing hoodies and big sunglasses to and from work, despite the fairly warm temperature. The longer i could delay people recognizing me the better.

Still, they always found her. You couldn't wear sunglasses and hoodies at work, and the only jobs she could get quickly with no resume and no background check were waitressing or bartending jobs. Only three weeks in LA before a drunk patron recognized her. He clumsily tried to stealthily flash her explicit images of herself that he had pulled up on her phone, as if she would be thrilled that a fan had recognized her. She tried to hold him off by telling him to just wait until her shift was over and she would talk to him. This worked for a little while, but soon he had pulled a male stranger into his confidence, and showed the bewildered man all kinds of things on his phone. They huddled and browsed for nearly an hour, the new man's mouth hanging open in amazement, and glanced from her to the phone and back a hundred times. She wanted to tell them to leave but knew that would only make escalate the situation. Besides, they were still buying drinks.

Soon enough it was four of them in a booth together, all nearly salivating at whatever they were looking at on their phones. Kattie tried to ignore them, but it was impossible. She could only imagine how horrendous the stuff they were looking at was. She could feel her face burning red hot. She tried to remember all the many horrible things that had been done to her over the last couple years, all the heinous, dehumanizing footage that had been taken of her and put online forever. All of those extreme detail close ups of every part of her. Inside and out. To think that a table full of guys was currently poring over that material a mere fifteen feet away from her almost made her knees buckle. She wanted to melt into the floor. She was completely distracted from her job. She kept repeating the same task over and over, automatically. Her coworker looked at her strangely and tried to keep up with the rush on her own.

"Are you ok?" she came over and whispered. "Are you drunk?"

Kattie shook her head no and tried to pull herself together. She felt something strange as she walked over to take someone's order. She looked down. She was wearing short jean shorts, and she had managed to soak through her panties hard enough that her bare upper thighs were visibly glistening and wet, slowly seeping out from either side of the crotch of her shorts. Mortified, she walked as quickly as she could to the bathroom. She cut in front of the line, to the protestations of a few drunk girls, and went in the first open stall and wiped her thighs clean. She dropped her pants and panties. They were completely sodden. She wiped herself up with toilet paper and then folded a few squares over and stuffed them in the soiled gusset of her panties. Hopefully it would soak up some of what was to come. She went back out with shaky knees, sneaked a shot to calm herself, then tried to get back to work.

It was hard going. The four guys at the table soon became six. She could feel their eyes on her without even looking at them. Could imagine exactly what they were seeing on their phones. She just hoped they wouldn't draw the entire bar's attention to what they were looking at. Luckily it was loud and rowdy enough in there to drown most of it out.

Finally it was last call. They all got up and left, all six of them craning their necks at her as they walked out. She knew they'd be waiting for her. Waiting to try out those famous holes they'd been ogling all night for themselves.

She left out the back door around 4 am. Sure enough, they were all standing there waiting, smiling drunkenly at her as she approached.

"Shall we do it here or somewhere else, Kattie?" one of them asked.

She looked around. She did not like the idea of being gangfucked in a cold, dirty alley yet again, but going to some hotel or apartment with them ran the risk of turning this encounter into something far larger and longer lasting. The fact that she had virtually no ability to say no to this random group of bar patrons waiting to cum in her both scared, humiliated, angered, and thrilled her. They had merely seen and recognized her, and this was all the justification they needed.

"Let's do it here," she said.

They let out a little whoop and then manhandled her over to a little cattycorner nook between a dumpster and a brick wall. They already had a thick, discarded comforter laid out there. Their hands were all over her, stripping her clothes away. They spun her this way and that, each sloppily sucking on her face or shoving their tongues down her throat. One of them already had three fingers up her pre-soaked cunt as she turned her head and was made to french one of his friends. Now another guy's two fingers were in her butthole at the same time.

For two hours they used her hard. They were rough, unabashed, and cruel. None of them wore protection. They didn't take turns -- they fit as many cocks into her at once as they could. When one guy came he'd just wait out for a few minutes until he was ready to go again. The guys who couldn't fit into her at any given moment would pull up pictures of her bukkaked face and hold their phones in front of her face as the others railed her. They had videos of her being gangfucked pulled up on all their devices as they themselves emulated what they saw on screen. She heard her own wailing voice coming from four different phone speakers around her in various repetitions of her past violations. They taunted her as they ravaged her.

"The really puts out, doesn't she?"

"God, do you know how fucked up you are?"

"Do you know what number I am? Tell me. How many different guys have you let in these holes?"

They made her say it. She remembered the tally she had seen on the banner of her fan forums just recently -- a number she already carried with her in her head at all times. She added their tally to it.

"One thousand and ninety-nine," she said, breathing hard. Saying it out loud, articulating it like that, made it seem so much more real and obscene.

"That's right. You're fucking disgusting, aren't you? What's wrong with you? What kind of girl lets herself get fucked by one tenth that number of guys?" The guy speaking came inside of her not ten seconds after finishing this sentence.

They took their own pictures and videos, par for the course, and left her panting and raw and broken as dawn broke. Her clothes lay in a scattered heaps nearby and she lay naked and with legs spread, several loads of cum leaking from her open vagina. It burned when she shut her legs. She had orgasmed maybe twenty times during the course of her gangbang, and hated herself for not being able to hide it from them.

This story repeated itself in a dozen variations over the coming months. She would stay at a job until something like this happened, and then switch. When it happened too many times at back to back jobs she would move apartments. She hopped around the greater LA area. She wore her hoodies and sunglasses into the summer months. It only worked sometimes. She would get NC fucked once a week on average. She was at 1,124 by August.

She got tired of moving. What difference did it make? They found her often enough. It was common knowledge now that she was somewhere in the LA area. If she went somewhere else they'd catch up to her there. She couldn't run from it forever. But what was even the alternative?

She got fired from two separate jobs for being late multiple times. It was always because she was getting fucked on her way to work. A couple times she missed a shift altogether because some guy had briefly kidnapped her to his apartment to service him and a couple buddies.

She started practicing kegels. The more she could control her vaginal muscles, the faster she could make men cum from fucking her. The sooner they came, the sooner they were likely to leave her alone. Most guys came to their senses and let her go after they shot their load. She got into the habit of bringing extra work shirts with her in a backpack for when her first one got cum on it during her walk to work.

1,155 by October. Her 28th birthday came and went, celebrated or acknowledged only on her fan forums. She spent the night getting her ass fucked by a big black dude who barely even spoke to her. She started just taking guys to her apartment when they recognized her on the street on her way home from work. It was better than getting fucked outside in an alley, and it barely mattered if she was at risk of having her current address posted. Her roommates probably took her for a . If only they knew the real story. She was far worse than a . They barely spoke to her except when it came time to discuss rent or utilities.

Twice a week on average now someone got to come back to her room with her and fuck her. Sometimes they wouldn't leave afterward, and she'd wake up in the morning and see the random who had gotten to help himself to her the night before in full light, and she would feel the shame and disgust all over again. Many times they would take her again in the morning, drilling away at her and leaving her with another pussy full of cum before she went to work.

Her life was just shame, anxiety, arousal, isolation. These were the only things she ever felt. She tried to imagine how her life could continue like this. She constantly felt like her legs were spread, like a crowd of people were looking right into what should be the most private part of her. While working, while walking down the street. At any given second she knew that thousands of people around the world were jerking off to videos of her being fucked and used in the worst ways possible, sharing and commenting, or examining the most minute details of her body, all over. All of them knowing her name, her birth date, where she went to high school. It sent that little electric jolt to her groin every time she thought about it.
She continued operating and behaving like a normal person whenever she could, simply because she didn't know how else to act. But what was really the point of dressing modestly or conducting herself with any dignity when anyone in the world, any of her coworkers, could just go home right after work and look up pictures of her gaped cunt? She knew some of them knew. One time she had walked into the office and caught three of her male coworkers watching a video of her farting cum out of her asshole right there on the computer. She just turned and left, but she came back the next day because they had never bothered her about it, and she needed money badly. No one brought it up, but she could barely bring herself to speak to those three guys now without turning red in the face. She started looking for another job as soon as she could.

She viewed the forums more and more, driven by some dark and irresistible compulsion. She would read a few threads every night before orgasming and then exiting out in horror. The worst posts (and the ones that made her cum the hardest) were by people who had known her in high school or before.

"I always knew she was a closet ," was a common refrain. "Great to see her finally spreading her holes for all the world to see, like she was always meant to."

She tried to guess who was saying these things about her. Probably people who had been nice to her in person. Or older people who had authority over her. She resented it and got off hard from it. She was, of course, always a good girl in school. She was quiet, never dressed provocatively or brought attention to herself. She usually had worn big hoodies and tried to sink into them, become invisible. Her extremely shy nature was precisely why her most explosive fantasies, even back then, always involved being forced to expose herself, to be a slut. Because the idea terrified her so much. And of course, perhaps by fate, it was now the constant reality she lived in. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, with no expression on her face. What would that shy in an oversized anime sweatshirt, the one who would turn beat red if a teacher called on her in class, think if she could see herself just ten years later. The of the fucking century. A host of porn sites dedicated solely to her.

Some fans were not just satisfied to dwell on the physical aspects of her exposure. They were more interested in the psychological revelations her story suggested. A couple dedicated, perhaps obsessive, users had an ongoing series of lengthy psychological profiles and theories written out about her. She was disturbed by how accurate they were. They had developed them through in depth studies of her life, of all material she had ever posted or said. Through discussions with her former acquaintances. Through existing academic thought and gut feeling.

"She indulges and recoils from her self-destructive instincts in equal measure, the ratio ever changing. She despises her situation yet is driven deeper and deeper into it through visceral reaction, learned helplessness, and sheer circumstance. I suspect she was somehow tricked or coerced into the initial stages. She would have never taken the step on her own. But from there, it snowballed and there was no turning back."

This was a growing consensus, that her supposed willingness in her initial public gangbang which started all this may have been fabricated. Analysis of her application video to the dom service proved difficult, but this line of thought had gained traction. But this seemed to only excite them further. Her subsequent depravity she had been talked into was real. Her pleas to be relentlessly shamed and fucked without discretion seemed much more real. Her orgasms and wetness were definately real.

Late one night she sat on the floor of her bedroom, flipping through and found new but old pictures of herself that someone had found and posted in some collection online. My god they are our family albulm pictures. How the hell do someone find these? The cum of three men i didn't know was pooling in the crotch of my panties and i just sat in it. I hadn't bothered to even take them off since getting home. I looked so wholesome in the pictures. Not really so different thani did now, if you didn't know any better. But i was this. Whoever had posted the images had scattered occasional photos of her getting gangbanged or bukkaked throughout the gallery, as they liked to do so much. The contrast between what was and what came later. She clicked from one image to the next. Therei was at my 18th birthday party. There i was with my face under an inch of cum. There i was in my awkward senior pictures that i hadn't even wanted to take. There i was sucking cum from a used condom.

A new wave of loneliness hit me. This is what i was now. Who would love this, or take me seriously? Who would want to marry or love me when any of their friends or anyone on the street could just look up video of me doing everything a woman's body could be made to do? Who would want me when they knew just how conquered i was? No one wants to pretend to be the "only one" after the 1,200th man on the moon.

It suddenly hit her, more vividly than it ever had, that everyone she had ever known knew about this stuff. Anyone who had ever known her or had an opinion of her had since had that opinion recalibrated to knowing that she was the kind of girl who ate the contents of 90 used condoms in a row. For a long time she had allowed herself to think that only some people knew, or that maybe some vague rumors swirled here and there, but this had become increasingly hard to believe. Now it hit her, with absolute certainty, that there was no way anyone from back home didn't know. It would have been huge news in her fairly small community. And this meant that every single man she'd ever known had seen her do all the filthiest things on earth.
There was exactly a 0% chance that a man would hear about that stuff and then not find an opportunity to look it up. He might not admit it. He would of course express disgust to his wife or any females around him, but he would absolutely look, probably many times. Sweet, proper, quiet Kattie Duval became a gangbang cumwhore overnight, with her shame spread far and wide online? They absolutely looked the first chance they got.

Every. Single. Man. She had never really allowed herself to think about it, or had been in denial. But after seeing all the action on the forums, she knew it was true. This was a secret from no one. Probably a good number of these former friends and acquaintances had become "fans" and followed her obsessively. She already knew that some of her old teachers had, and had joined in on one of her previous gangbangs. Her own father and brother had probably been unable to resist the morbid curiosity. They had to confirm it for themselves. Images of all the different men she'd known in her life flashed through her head, a fresh burst of panic and humiliation hitting her for every new person she considered who had seen her content. They'd probably looked at all of it. Seen her pushing her groin muscles out until her rectum turned inside out and prolapsed and billowed out of her asshole, leaking cum. What was even the fucking point of trying to be a normal person or worry about further humiliation at this point anyway? Who was she kidding?

She went into the kitchen and grabbed a mostly full liter of vodka from above the sink. It belonged to her roommate. She didn't care. The cold bitch was out of town anyway. She took a big swig as she walked back to her room.

She scrolled through the forums as she took sip after sip of the vodka. She rarely drank. It burned and made her wince as it went down, but she kept forcing sips down. She wanted to feel something other than anxiety.

She read through post after post of people disparaging her and detailing their fantasies and wishes for her. Someone described his desire to see her do a donkey show in a Tijuana whorehouse. People posted images in a thread dedicated to sharing their favorite parts of her body. They had plenty of photos and videos of each and every bit to share. Many were predictable: her asshole, her labia, the soles of her feet. But some were more interested in the tiny details that made a person so unique. The soft little bump right on the crest of the Cupid's bow on her lips, which had been there since birth. The little cluster of tiny freckles on her taint, right above her anus. A detail so small and private that maybe one man ever in her life should have noticed it, but now it was being discussed by legions of invested strangers, stored on a hundred hard-drives. She drank and fiddled her clit with one hand in her panties as she browsed, the leftover cum from the three men who had fucked her on her way home coating her fingers. She ran a finger up and down her vulva, collecting more of the slick fluid to rub into her bead.

She could feel the alcohol hitting her. Her face flushed warm. She was breathing hard. She switched between rubbing her clit and stuffing several fingers into her vagina, feeling the walls of that well-traveled canal. Despising it. Internalizing the derision that the entire male sex seemed to harbor for her. Who was she to dispute their assertions, their characterizations of her? Had she not proven them correct, time and again?

Before she realized it, she was properly drunk. The bottle was still three quarters full. Her vision swam slightly as she watched a video of herself filling a large cup from the tub of piss she was sitting in, then drinking it. She felt wet tears rolling down her face. She hated herself. She was completely soaked. Her fingertips were starting to prune from being soaked in the cum and pussy juice in her panties.

She grabbed her roommate's laptop from her room and opened it up back in her own. No password. She pulled up her old Facebook account and logged right in. It had been deactivated, but came back as soon as she signed on.

She made a status. Her vision was nearly doubled.

"Hey guysm rememeber me? The slut you all love to shittalk. If youve wanted to say soemthing to me ever, message me now and say it."

She posted it with an emphatic click.

People started publicly commenting on the status, and reacting to it right away. Most of the comments were people tagging their other friends so they would see it. People clearly found it amusing. She took another swig of vodka.

Time started skipping. She realized she was truly drunk now, but she didn't care. She saw her fingers typing rapid, typo-riddled responses to the host of messages that had flooded in from former acquaintances. People asked if it was really her. Guys she had only barely known in school asked her for nudes. A girl she had been distantly friendly with asked her why she was doing this to herself.

Many guys were rude or mean to her. She gave it right back to them in her inhibition-free state. She was still crying, sad, angry, horny, belligerent, all rolled into one.

Soon she faded into lucidity for a moment to find herself in front of the webcam, broadcasting on Facebook Live. She knew it was a terrible, humiliating idea, but she didn't care. Right now, that's exactly why she wanted to do it.

"Is thish what you guys want to see?" she slurred at the camera, lifting her shirt up and baring her tits for several seconds. "That why you tuned in? To see the spectacle?"

She stood up and walked a few feet away so the camera could see her whole body. She stripped off all of her clothes and held her arms out to her sides in a sort of gesture of conciliatory presentation of her nudity.

"This is what you're here for right?"

She sat back down in front of the camera and watched as the reactions and comments from her former "friends" poured in. She knew she was visibly drunk. She didn't care. She took more swigs of vodka on camera. She flitted in and out of lucidity. She was very nearly blacked out and operating on autopilot. She was following the commands of guys on screen. She slapped herself in the face. She sucked on her big toe. Whatever her initial impulse to do this was, it now served just to prove them all right about her.

She was soaking wet. She was glad she was a ruined . She fished the remnants of stale cum out of her cunt and licked it off her fingers. She told her audience what she was doing. She was on the bed with the laptop now. She laid back and lifted her bare pussy and ass up to the screen. She pulled her labia open wide for them.

"I'm a filthy fucking who no one should ever respect," she said. She was now drunk enough that it would not be until days later, when she could stomach to watch the footage, that she would even remember what she said or did from this point on.

She stumbled to the front door and unlocked it, even leaving it open a crack. When she got back to the webcam she gave out her exact address.

"My front door is wide open," her blacked out, hormone-raging brain made her say. "If you've ever wanted to fuck me and you're anywhere in the LA region, now is your chance."

Surely some of her old classmates lived around here now. Even more certain was the fact that this video was being watched by legions of her dedicated fans who had caught wind of it. She rubbed her clit for them and let her pussy obviously pour forth with juice at the thought of all who were watching her debase herself at this very moment.

"I am a fucking . You were all right. This body doesn't even belong to me anymore. I've fucked one thousand, one hundred and seventy three men. Come get it too, if you want it."

She was operating in total blackout mode by the time the first guys showed up. She could speak back and forth to people, react and move more or less like a normal person, but her brain was recording none of it. Three guys showed up at once, waltzing right in the open front door, about thirty minutes after she had first given out her address. She took all three of them at once, right in front of the Facebook live audience. She made one lie down on the floor on his back and she climbed right on top of him.

More came. She slurred drunken encouragement at them. She openly berated herself for being such a nasty, worthless slut. The room slowly filled over the next couple hours. She encouraged guys to cum balls deep in her. She kept a tally of the first score of guys that she would shout out loud after each new one took his place inside her.

"Alright, number 12!" she called as she felt his hot cum gushing into her. "Thank you number 12. Who's number 13?"

Number 13 took her hard. Then number 14, number 15. She berated herself in a voice that almost didn't even sound like her own, higher pitched, and shrill, almost hysterical, like she was fighting the urge to weep as she said it. "I'm a worthless fucking , please use my holes."

She thanked each man who used her. She wrapped her pale naked legs around them and pulled their hips into her as they came, looking up into their eyes with a pitiful look on her face as she repeated things like "Yes, thank you. Ruin me. Please fucking ruin me," to each one in turn.

And they did. The video kept rolling, the door stayed open, and man after man filed in, stayed a while, took a turn. Word had spread fast on the forums, and plenty of her fans were near enough in the LA area to make it. It soon became a scene of general festivity and debauchery, all aimed at her. By 3 AM the living room was filled with perhaps 20 men, and some had already left and more were on their way. They continued to feed her alcohol and stimulants, but they weren't even needed. Her brain was already hardly functionally present. She fucked them wildly, with more gusto and enthusiasm than she had ever done in her past gangbangs. A seemingly eager participant in the degradation and exploitation of the body and soul of the being she controlled.

Up through about the 30th guy of the night she was still speaking to them with sentences. Her face was turned sideways, right into the camera, as she panted, taking a man's hard thrusts who lay atop her.

"Everyone watching this needs to know that Kattie Duval wants complete strangers to cum in her unprotected cunt," she huffed, her face shining with sweat. "It's all true. No one should ever date me or love me or want me beyond my holes. You'd be dating a used up ."

Soon after this she devolved into simpler, one word utterances, and eventually into just animalistic moans and gasps and vocalizations. The only way she ever found out exactly what happened to her this night, and how many men ended up using her, was through the archived video, which was of course duplicated and spread far and wide by fans. Once she was only responsive through grunts the guys seemed to amp up what they tried on her. Each guy's aggression and escalation then spurred his successor to push things even further.

By 5 AM the 55th cock of the night entered her, and the man had her sphincter choking his wrist at the same time. Another guy was shoving a super-length dildo he had brought into her throat at the same time, making it distend visibly over and over. She wretched over and over but didn't fight him. All the contents of her stomach had already been vomited out onto cocks in the preceding hours.

They continued on with her well into daylight. She was further plied with alcohol and drugs, her lizard brain accepting them without question. They used her every which way and she did not resist them. They used her hard. They fucked every hole, often at once. Most guys took a turn at fisting her in either her cunt or asshole. Her body continuously provided ample lubrication for them. They seemed to enjoy loosening her up, seeing how much they could wreck her pussy for the next guy.

"Fuck, her goddamn holes are used," one newcomer commented in amazement as he sank bareback into her cunt. "I've never felt a bitch this fucking loose in my life." He pulled his dick out and slipped effortlessly into her asshole instead, commenting that it wasn't that much better.

Guys jerked their cocks off with her feet, her longish toes wrapping around their shafts, her bright red toenail polish shining through the cum. They pinched her nipples so hard she would have screamed her vocal chords raw had she been remotely sober. They pressed their lips against and sucked every bit of her skin, hard, until she was covered in hickeys. They slapped her as hard as they could, until her body was covered in welts and bruises. They shoved her face into the carpet, ass up, and played a game where they fucked her doggy style, thrusting into her so hard that they scooted her across the living room floor inch by inch, thrust by thrust. They would fuck her from one side of the room to the other, and then back again, over and over, until her face and knees were scraped raw and bleeding from rugburn. They found a pack of little baby oranges in the kitchen and shoved all of them, one by one, into her rectum, and then packed them further in by taking turns fucking her in the ass, stuffing them in like little cannonballs, until her internal muscles accepted them and swallowed them somewhere deeper in her intestines. She didn't even know until two days later when her bowels finally shifted them back down and she painfully shit each one out in turn. After this they raided her roommate's room and found several pairs of dirty panties. These they stuffed into Kattie's cunt and mouth until she was overflowing at both ends with the other girl's soiled undergarments.

Around 6 pm that next day it was finally put to an end. The apartment landlord had caught wind of the situation and arrived and threw everyone out, threatening to call the police. The place emptied out quickly. This is where the video ended. It wasn't until she revisited the video weeks later that she saw the extent of what had happened. 118 new cocks had entered her total as a result of her drunken, broken invitation, as was well-documented on the forums. Bringing her to 1,291, lifetime count.

She came to sometime the morning after this. She woke up sick and disoriented, as nauseous and hungover as she had ever been in her life. She was in some bed in a strange apartment one of her fleeing fans had dragged her to, although this took her several minutes to piece together. Her eyelids were still glued shut with cum when she first tried to open them. She actually had to pry each one open with her fingers to see. She was alone in the bedroom. The blinds were drawn and the door shut. Her head was pulsing, her throat was so dry that it clenched and stung, and every inch of her body felt like it was damaged somehow. It felt like she had been in a car wreck.

She finally willed herself to get up. She swung her feet to the floor and made her way to the adjoining bathroom. She was still naked. She turned on the light but before she even looked at herself in the mirror she turned on the faucet and gulped down handful after handful of water. Finally she stood up and saw herself.

She had hazy recollections of bits and pieces of the previous day, but very little context or fidelity. She knew men had come over to her apartment, at her own hysterical, defeated invitation, but she could not remember how many or what had happened. But from the looks of herself it had been an utter hedonist bonanza inflicted on her.

Her hair was a wreck, pointing in every direction and matted with thick sheets and globs of dried cum all over. Several strands were stuck in stiff clumps to her face. Dried cum peeled off like glue on nearly every inch of her body. She spread her toes and fingers and discovered it stuck there too. Her tits were horribly bruised in huge splotches of purple, black, blue and green, as were various other places on her stomach and legs and ribs and ass. Her nipples were raw and surrounded with teeth marks of varying sizes. Terrible rugburn rashes opened her skin all over her knees and face. She was covered in welts and what looked like cigarette burns in a few places. A stream of dried blood ran from her nose. The corners of her mouth were ripped open, and her lower lip was busted open. The raw, red hot pain still pulsing from her pussy and asshole spoke for itself. She couldn't bring herself to look at them.

She sat in the shower for as long as she could, running the water nearly scalding hot until it ran out of heat. A ritual she had now experienced a few times. She didn't even know where she was, and still hadn't seen whoever owned this apartment she was now in, didn't know what else he planned for her. The dried semen covering her skin and hair became viscous and tacky again in the water. She wiped it from her face and felt the slick substance slide between her fingers. There was barely enough shampoo in the shower for her to feel like her hair was clean. Her whole body felt like one pulsing terminus of pain. It was the sacrifice her body was expected to bear to bring unlimited pleasure to men. She had never been so sore all over in her life. Not even after her group assaults in prison. She just hoped that there was no internal damage.
Kattie's Reality Sets In Ch 1
Posted:Jun 5, 2024 10:22 am
Last Updated:Jun 10, 2024 9:42 am

[This story continues from Blog Kattie's Abduction Fantasy]

Now come days of worthlessness. Days of shame.

The complete confrontation with the reality of her exposure online shook her to her core. Before, when she'd first moved to Boston, she had been able to delude herself. It was life-ruining footage, already, but it would fade into the depths of the internet, and with a move across the country and a false identity, she would be able to eventually escape it for the most part. That is what she had thought. The virtual tour she was given in the hotel suite, nine months ago now, had shattered that delusion.

Her footage, her story, had blossomed into some internet zeitgeist. It was not going to go away. She had thousands of dedicated, some borderline obsessive, some way over the borderline fans. They all were communally dedicated to virtual (and real-life) stalking of her. She would never be able to hide from them. They would duplicate and spread her footage, and endlessly seek to create more content of her. They wouldn't let her move again and change her identity. She couldn't go to the cops. They obviously didn't take her side one bit. She realized, only just now in her post-jail freedom, that she was completely and utterly fucked.

She sat on her bunk one morning in a women's shelter she had gone to while she considered what she could do or where she could go next. She wanted to be somewhere with no men. She hadn't gone outside in three days. She sat and stared up at the high window. She was utterly baffled with what she should do next. She seemed to have been pushed into an impossible corner. She had no money, no real possessions. Her reputation was utterly ruined, socially and professionally. What could she even begin to do with herself? No matter where she went, it seemed like a dead end. Should she just kill herself? She knew she wouldn't, but she could think of no logical reason not to. She was finally accepting what her assailants had told her so many times -- that she had nothing to live for now except cock.

A disheveled woman with sunken eyes was sitting on the bed next to hers. She had a magazine of some kind in her hands. They had talked a couple times in the last few days, just a word here and there. Now she kept glancing from the magazine to Kattie and back again.

"This your skanky ass?" she asked, and handed it to her.

It was called "Jailbirds," one of those garbage rags they sell for 75 cents at gas station checkouts. It was just a collection of recent mugshots in the county. The top of the page it was turned to was labeled "." There, along with 20 old hardened hags and methed out homeless looking women, was Kattie, clear as day, standing out so much with her youthful beauty, despite the wild hair and dried clumps of cum. "FREE BLOWJOBS" right across her forehead. "Kattie Ann Duval, 27. Multiple counts of , drug possession, public indecency."

She didn't even have a response for the woman. She just stood up, threw the magazine on the bed, and walked out, as the woman watched her leave in shock and disgust.

She wandered the streets for two hours, worried all the while that someone would recognize her. If they did, they didn't say anything. Would this be how it would be every day for the rest of her life? How could she operate like this?

No money. No possessions. Nothing except the donated clothes on her back.

She hitched her way to a rest stop off I-95. From there she met a trucker, an older, rugged female, who agreed to let her ride as far west as she was going. Kattie rode in the cab, glad she had found a woman. She spoke very little, and luckily the woman didn't press. She had no plans. She just knew she had to leave Boston.

The woman drove her west as far as Detroit. From there, she told her she'd be heading north into Canada. Couldn't tag along if she couldn't provide the documents to cross the border.

She hitched again further west, and then again, going wherever she could find someone willing to take her. It was mostly men who drove her, but luckily no one recognized her or sought sexual favors. For a moment she let herself once again begin second guessing the extent of her exposure. She had assumed people would recognize her everywhere she went. Maybe, just maybe, if she stayed off the grid she could get by like a normal person?

She quickly squashed the idea. She knew she was going down the same path of mental self-delusion as last time. It would only lead to a harsher reality check. She was a known, publicized, ubiquitous webslut. And real life slut. She just had to find a way to accept it. To live within that framework.

To reinforce the idea, she went into a public library when she was in Denver. She signed up for a library card, rather easy even with no ID, and then got a private booth to use the Internet. There were no restrictions on the browser. She typed in her name.

Page after page after page. All her. Just dozens and dozens of videos, hundreds or pictures, endless pages dumping all of her personal info, her history, everything. She found the page that documented every single square inch of her body in extreme HD, and couldn't bear to click on any of the images. Just the search "Kattie" still had her on the first page.

Her heart was racing, despite herself. She already knew all this was there. Why did it elicit such a panic response to see it? She clicked on the fan forums dedicated to her. The board was very active. Guys posted every day. They loved digging up old pictures of her, old videos, and splicing them next to the most explicit content of her that they could find. The innocent vs ruined dichotomy.

They loved how she was reluctant now. They perceived her initial supposed consent to the gangbang in her apartment to be a one time mistake, a disastrous slip up that had spiraled far out of her control, that she didn't know how far it would go, and that she wished she could take it back. They loved that she was a punished , forced to keep living with the consequences of past fucks ups. Her reluctance was exactly what made it hot to them. She could tell they were all closeted sadists, cowards who had finally found a victim who couldn't fight back, who they could take out all their sexual frustrations and aggressions on without any consequences to themselves. The kind of thing they would probably love to do to all kinds of women they knew in their personal lives, but would never be able to. That's why she had developed such a dedicated fanbase online. She attracted every type of guy like that out there. She was the only person they would ever get the opportunity to take it all out on.

That's why they loved to dig up pictures from her old life so much, and hear old stories from people who knew her. They didn't just want a wanton slut. There were thousands of pornstars out there who were willing to be that. They wanted a good girl who had been reluctantly morphed into a wanton slut. The old pictures, blog posts, contrasted with what became of her, reminded them that she was a real person, a shy, reserved, private person who had somehow, against all odds, been pushed to the absolute extremes of human exposure. Levels that weren't even possible 30 years ago, before the advent o f the internet. Unparalleled in human history. Her obvious horror and tortured arousal over the situation was precisely what fueled them. This pussy, this asshole, all of these parts you could see in incredible HD quality, preserved for all time on a hundred different websites and growing, were never supposed to be seen by more than a small handful of lovers. Now their spread through out humanity, throughout time could never be stopped.

This was also why they loved so obsessively keeping track of her "number." It was a quantitative evaluation of how ruined she was. They loved the idea of adding on to this number, on and on, indefinitely.

A thread on the forums was titled "Take a picture of your dick next to one of Kattie's selfies if it's ever been inside her!" The thread had been up for three months. There were hundreds of posts. She made herself click it and scrolled through. Picture after picture, all posted by guys with crowns and numbers next to their screennames, indicating they'd presented proof of having fucked her. Picture after picture of cocks posed right over or next to a selfie of Kattie they'd taken from her Facebook or elsewhere at some time, her smiling face oblivious next to the bulging dicks. Dicks of every size, shape, and color. Some straight, some curved, some small, some huge. Cut, uncut. Clean, disgusting. Some had scabs or flakes of dried skin circling the ring of the head. All had been inside of her. She knew it was true, but it was difficult to wrap her head around. She felt her face flushing hot and red with shame as she scrolled down this long, long chronicle of her degradation. The cumulative effect was overwhelming. She felt so disgusting, so ruined. That this was out there for anyone to peruse at their leisure...her heart was racing. Seeing so many variations of cocks all at once, disembodied, it all seemed so crass, like alien invaders that had been forced into her. Yeah she looks pretty in these pictures, but look at all these cocks she's taken. This large sampling of humanity, who have all rubbed themselves to a gushing climax against her wet, pink walls. A single human female had never been intended to be used by this many men. It was a perversion of biology and nature.

She found another women's shelter in Denver and stayed there while trying to decide what to do next. What options could be available to someone like her? Had anyone even been in such a position before? Should she move to California and become a pornstar? Is that all that was left to her? But no, her mind twisted even this thought... what studio would pay her when the worst content imaginable of her was already out there, with an unending potential for more to be created?

She stayed at the women's shelter in the evenings and at night, and in the day wandered the streets of Denver, wondering what to do with herself, always scared that someone would recognize her and call her out on the street. She found herself going to the library more and more, always taking a private computer room and looking herself up online. She couldn't help it. She would trawl through page after page, seeing the videos, the pictures, seeing the things people said about her, her face flushing red and her heart racing in panic and involuntary excitement. She hated it, hated every person who commented or reposted images or videos of her. And yet, it was all she could do to stop herself from masturbating in the library. Every time she would leave with panties full of girl cum and a conviction, more than ever, that her life was completely fucked.

She knew she needed money, before anything else. She had no drive, no real goal, but she knew she had to have money. She could stay at the women's shelter a while longer, if she had to, but that was not a permanent solution, and she hated it there.

She decided the best way to get money, quickly, would be by taking advantage of one of her fans, who she figured would act more deferential and attempt to charm her in a one-on-one discussion. She wanted to find one who lived overseas, who couldn't easily demand for her to come to him, and who was well off enough to give her money, but not in a life situation where he could just pay to fly her to him. That meant someone with a wife.

She made an account on her own fan forums, but posing as a regular person. A male. She participated in discussions, here and there -- mostly in the off topic boards, where she didn't have to participate in degrading conversations about herself, as much as the idea gave her a strange stirring between her legs. She prodded subtly, here and there, trying to prompt people to divulge details of their personal life, filtering through potential targets.

Finally, after her sixth day in a row of visiting the library and sifting through endless debasing descriptions of her body and details of ideas people had for further shaming and humiliating her, she landed on someone who seemed like he fit all of her criteria.

She made another dummy account and messaged him. She very frankly laid out her identity, her need for money, her desire to keep this relationship private and exclusive. His name was Ed. He lived in the UK, he had a wife and , who obviously did not know of his fandom here. He made enough money. Send me enough money to let me survive, and I'll speak with you exclusively, something no one else on these forums has. I will produce whatever photos or videos you want.

At first he didn't believe her, of course. She wrote her name and the exact time and date and held it up next to her face and took pictures with the laptop's webcam. She wrote various messages demanded by him, distorted the paper this way and that to ensure him they were not photoshopped on. Finally he was convinced. He was talking to the real Kattie, the girl across the world who was so infamous, who he had had so many huge, guilt-ridden orgasms to. Wanting to develop some kind of private relationship, pragmatic and removed as it was, with him.

It was almost comical how quickly his tone became friendly and supportive when he knew he was speaking directly to her, as opposed to the comments he had left in various threads describing all manner of awful opinions and wishes for her.

Ed quickly used Western Union to get some initial cash to her. Not a ton, but enough for her to add some minutes to her phone, and a hotel room for a few days. More would come later. She moved out of the women's shelter to a Motel 6, and over the coming days performed every personalized request he had. Luckily, he was bad at being a dom. He was too unsure of himself, too scared of overshooting. He had her write his screen name on her nude body, had her contort herself into various mildly degrading positions and send the pictures to him. Her big toe in her mouth, her asshole circled in sharpie and spread. Nothing 1/100th as bad as what was already out there of her. She took the pictures with full awareness that he would surely share them all once their relationship was severed, but she didn't care. With every picture, he would send her $5.

After a few days he finally made bigger offers. Offer yourself to strangers off the street, take them back to your room and fuck them bareback. Let them creampie you or cum on your face and send me the picture proof. Send me video clips of each one fucking you. For every man you fuck I will give you $100.

She had been expecting something like this eventually, and knew it was her best option. It wasn't that bad, really. Her vagina had handled hundreds of different men over the course of a weekend more than once. What were a few more?

So she started bringing men back to her hotel room. It wasn't hard, of course. She'd walk to one of the nearby bars toward closing time, find a guy by himself, tell him he was cute, and ask if he wanted to go back to her place. It didn't fail a single time. Three guys in the first three nights. All three fucked her and came in her pussy with no condom, without hesitation. They seemed slightly more confused by her request for them to take pictures and videos on her phone of them fucking her, or of their cum leaking out of her afterward, but they still didn't question it. She agreed to each of their requests to send the pictures back to their own phone number. She must be a real kinky bitch -- fair enough.

Ed praised her exploits. He began venturing into more risque language with her. Feels good to have new cocks in you again, doesn't it, slut? She would placate him. After a week with a new cock a day, he began to up the ante. Tell them you have to have a fist in you or you can't get off. I'll give you $200 per when they fist you. Tell them up front, when you're still in the bar. I'm a who needs a man's fist in my puppet-pussy right now. Say it in front of their friends. Tell them dick can't get you off anymore. Wear the sluttiest outfit you can buy. When they're done with you, tell them your full name and tell them to look you up online.

She obliged. She wasn't happy to, but how much worse would it make her life? Men 1,052 through 1,067 occurred this way. Each one hurt. Each one thrilled her. The pure look of excitement mixed with revulsion on each man's face as her labia closed around his fist humiliated and electrified her. She was surprised it could still affect her. She was humiliated by how easily her pussy could be fisted now. Each one took plenty of pictures of her. Most they saved for their own use, or sent to their friends, but they also sent what she requested to her.

It slowly reinforced her uselessness to her. Beyond this, what was there? For a month he kept it up. It carried her until man 1,078. His demands kept escalating, and she finally quit. It gave her enough money to move on. 26 random bar pickups putting their fist in her pussy, 26 men who nearly blew their load from the sheer depravity of what they were doing. It wasn't something a normal person experienced in their life. Well, you're welcome.

She cut it off with him. She'd accrued enough of his money.

She knew she'd have to move on quickly. It would probably be a matter of hours before he posted all those pictures he'd collected, before he posted her new location.

She took a Greyhound to Phoenix. She had enough money to get an apartment. Month to month rent. She found a job waiting tables at a local place, all payment under the table -- no ID required. It felt almost useless. She'd go back to her empty apartment at night and wonder why she bothered. Was she going to live a life of running, constantly starting over?

She was afraid to try to make friends. She'd make the mistake of trusting new people before. It would just make it worse when they found out about her.

On the 12th day at her new job someone recognized her. The thing she'd been dreading. It was a young guy -- a fat, ugly, loner type. When he first came in he looked at her weirdly, but didn't say anything. She thought she noticed him sneaking pictures of her on his phone. She tried to ignore him, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, hoping it was nothing. Finally he left, and she started to breathe a little easier.

Less than an hour later he was back. She didn't notice him until he was right up to her.

"Hi Kattie," he said, "Big fan. Will you sign this for me?"

Hot flashes of anxiety flared all over her body. He was holding out a glossy 8x10 photo to her. It was a picture of her, on her knees, staring up at the camera, her face completely coated in the cum of dozens of men. Covering her eyes, her hair, every inch of her skin. It almost wasn't recognizable as her, but she knew it was of course. He was holding two other photos. Her enormously gaped pussy in one, both cervix and face visible at once. The other was a deep look into her asshole. He was holding them out with a marker.

She just looked at the pictures, unable to form words. Her mouth hung open and she just stuttered. Some of her coworkers were looking over at them. The guy just leered at her with a terrible grin.

"Please put them away," she finally managed to whisper.

He just smiled bigger.

"Then fuck me," he said.

She looked around. "Right this way sir," she said, loudly, "I'll show you."

She quickly led him back toward the bathroom. There was a family bathroom you could lock. In the back. No one was around. She quickly went in with him.

"Please just hurry," she told him.

She was wearing a skirt. She hiked it up, and pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. He had his grubby cock out and was stroking it while spreading her asscheeks with his other hand, poking her asshole. She tried not to look at him. He had terrible acne, and smelled bad.

He mounted her from behind, bareback. She felt his cockhead rubbing around her groin, trying to find her hole. She was barely even wet, but he managed to get in quite easily once he had figured out how to angle his cock correctly. He groaned loudly when he felt himself go all the way inside her.

"God you're tighter than I was expecting," he said. She doubted he had much idea what a vagina was supposed to feel like.

His cock was average-sized, but it was big enough and was thrust with enough roughness that it made for a fairly painful experience. He had both hands on her waist and used her hipbones to pull her pussy slamming onto his cock over and over, muttering about what a filthy she was between his grunts all the while. She hated how quickly she could feel her cunt getting soaked for him. For this complete troll who she would have never let anywhere near her if her life had stayed anything remotely close to normal. But now here she was, being his worthless cumdump, somehow against all odds.

He took one hand off her hips long enough to take a picture of his cock inside her, then both hands were reaching up her shirt and folding her bra cups under her tits. He pinched both her nipples, incredibly hard. She involuntarily yelped and slapped at his hands, but he maintained the same pressure on them. With a wave of disgust she felt a sudden orgasm building in her loins, and then felt it quickly hit its climax. She did her best to stifle a scream of pleasure so her assailant wouldn't know it was happening, but her knees shook viciously and she nearly fell to the floor, the pads of her fingertips digging into the tile wall to try to keep herself aloft.

He came nearly simultaneously with her. His thrusts became more urgent and violent, and then he stopped, pulled himself as deep into her as he could, and she felt the warmth of semen oozing out of his cockhead and directly onto her cervix.

He pulled out of her and she fell to the floor. She put a hand down and felt the cum spilling out of her. Someone knocked on the door and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Just a minute!" she said.

She got up and grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped the grool and cum from between her pussy lips while he smirked at her.

"Lick me clean," he said. "And leave the rest of my cum in you for the rest of your shift."

She sighed and felt fury rise up in her, but she knew she was in his hands. He just had to raise his voice and who knew what trouble what befall her from outside that bathroom door. She folded a piece of toilet paper over a couple times and then placed it in the crotch of her panties as she pulled them up, to catch any cum that dripped out of her before she got to go home. Then she got on her knees, gingerly grabbed his cock with one hand, and proceeded to clean the semen and pussy juice off it with her tongue. He smelled terrible, and his pubic hair was long and unkempt, tickling her nose.

She licked him clean as hastily as she could. His overly-sensitive cock sprang up involuntarily when her tongue ran over his glans. He tucked his cock and balls back into his pants and pinched one of her cheeks while she still knelt before him.

"Thanks, bitch."

He snapped one more picture of her on the floor, glaring up at him, then he walked out of the bathroom. Kattie tried to pause and hide the fact that they had been in the bathroom together, but she had only waited about 10 seconds before someone else walked in, thinking the bathroom was empty. Luckily it was a customer and not her boss or a coworker, but the man looked sufficiently surprised.

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"It's ok," she said, and quickly left. She tried to busy herself in the back of house until the man was gone. Her lucky fan appeared to have left.

When she left that night she walked two blocks away before ordering an Uber to take her to a restaurant 6 blocks away, from where she walked back to her apartment. She couldn't risk her misogynist fan following her home. It was bad enough that he knew where she worked. If he found out her address she would very likely have to move again.

He came back to the restaurant exactly twice in the next month. He seemed to know that if he pushed his luck too far, she would disappear. Both times she had him wait until business had died down, then she would sneak to the bathroom to allow him to quickly fuck her. It never took long for her to get him off. Each time he took pictures, and each time she found where he posted them on her forums. Luckily he never gave further details for anyone else to locate her. He must have thought he could have her to himself for a while. He also surely enjoyed all the jealous comments from others.

Then, just a few days after the last time he showed up for his bathroom sex, she was walking home via her usual circuitous route that took her past several bars popular among the college crowd. A small group of drunk frat dudes exited a doorway right ahead of her on the sidewalk. Six of them. The one who looked the drunkest turned his head toward her and saw her just as a window brightly illuminated her face. He stared at her for several seconds, a dumb and stunned look on his face. She tried not to make eye contact and walked around them.

She had only gone about another 10 feet before she heard him call after her.


She just kept walking without looking back.

"Hey, Kattie!" he called again. "Come back here!"

She picked up her pace. She heard the other guys talking to him: "Do you know her, bro?"

They were following her. The one guy took off at a run and caught up to her quickly. He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

"I knew it was fuckin' you!"

She couldn't do anything but freeze. Unrelated people around the street were looking at them now. His friends looked confused and hesitant but also mildly amused.

"She'll put out to anyone," he said, loudly enough for the whole block to hear.

His friends look alternately embarrassed or amused. One said "She doesn't look like she wants to put out for you, dude."

"No, look, seriously. She has to fuck anybody." He pulled out his phone. "I've got this shit saved."

They all stood there awkwardly glancing between his phone and her. The guy was holding her wrist with his left hand. She knew she should try to break away from him and just run, but she couldn't. Her whole body felt like alternating currents of fire and ice, and her feet were rooted in place.

She heard her own voice coming from his phone speaker. "My name is Kattie Ann Duval...I will fuck anyone and everyone who wants it for the rest of my life. Don't let me tell you no. This pussy is yours."

They were all staring at her with their mouths wide open.

"I fuckin' told you," he said. "See, it's totally her."

She tried to speak. Her throat was completely dry. Her voice came out as little more than a whisper. "Please, I'm just trying to go home from work. No, I really...don't want to right now."

"That's what the video said you'd say," another of the guys said. "It specifically says 'don't let me say no.' So like, we're obligated not to let you, right? It would be rude not to."

"Here, look at this one," the first guy said.

Her voice again: "My name is Kattie Ann Duval from Lakewood, California, and I am the fuck-property of every man who recognizes me and requests my body for the rest of my life. I don't have the ability to say no. If I say the word 'no,' I'm really saying 'yes.'"

A third guy looked at her with a mock apologetic look. "That sounds like consent to me."

Suddenly the six of them were surrounding her and walking her briskly off down the street, three of them with hands on her back or shoulders. She just floated along as if in a dream. Yeah, this was happening. She just finished a 10 hour shift at a shitty service job, she was exhausted, her feet hurt, she felt like she needed a shower, and now she was going to have to go straight into giving every single bit of herself to six douchebag strangers for as long as they wanted. And yet...yep, there was the grool she could already feel sliding between her pussy lips with each step. That lower part of her dumbass brain couldn't help but get excited.

They steered her into an alley while more strangers down the street clapped in drunken encouragement, barely understanding what they had just witnessed.

They had her shirt and bra off in seconds, their hands pawing at her exposed tits. Her skirt and panties went next. She was suddenly completely powerless and exposed in this alley with these six horny bros, wearing nothing but her black, sensible work sneakers. The shoes just made her feel more naked.

They bent her over while still in a standing position. Her hands reached out and grabbed a railing to keep from falling over. They all knelt behind her and admired the rearview of her shapely pussy and ass, her asshole winking above the beautiful arch her perfectly curved asscheeks formed above her glistening slit.

"That is a fucking perfect undercarriage," one of them said.

"You should see what it's capable of," the first guy responded.

One of them took his belt off and lashed her wrists tightly to the railing she was holding, so that she was forced to continue standing there and bending forward.

More strangers watched from the opening of the alleyway as each guy took turns mounting her from behind. Her pussy was soaked to accommodate them sliding right in, thus confirming everything they thought about her.

1,080. 1,081. 1,082. 1,083. 1,084. 1,085. Each number registered in her mind with a resounding ring as the corresponding guy slid his eager cock into her weeping gash, like items being rung up at a store.

Pump and dump. They used her quickly, roughly, one after the other in quick succession, but they were obviously just uncomfortable enough with the situation and their legal standing that they must have wanted to wrap up quickly. Each guy looked uncomfortable after he had taken his turn and come down from the drunken lust, realizing he had just been part of a group to force a girl they'd never met into an alley, and then fucked her bareback. They glanced nervously toward the alley opening as their buddies finished their turns, the sounds of Kattie whimpering softly and her sloppy pussy sloshing as they thrust in and out of her. Awed and laughing spectators filmed on their cell phones from a few yards back, amused and scandalized by the random slut who obviously couldn't hold her liquor get a train run on her behind a bar.

Finally the last guy finished, adding his load to the other five already inside of her. Someone took the belt off her wrists. Her hands had gone numb. Sensation came back to her fingertips in a flood of painful pinpricks.

"Thanks," one of the guys laughed nervously at her. They vacated the scene as quickly as possible, in the opposite direction from the small group of people watching.

Kattie waddled around and picked up her scattered articles of clothing from the ground, ridiculously holding one arm across her tits to hide her nipples from the people who had just watched her give up everything to strangers without a fight.

She put her clothes back on around the corner and limped the rest of the way home, feeling the collected cum leaking out of her pulsing pussy and leaking down her thighs. She tried not to look anyone she passed in the eye, afraid they would read there the whole truth of her life and take it upon themselves to add more to her disgrace.

She walked in the direction of her apartment and planned to just enter, shower, and lay down to bring on the next endless day of perpetual potential humiliations, when she saw a police station at the end of the next block. A sudden sense of righteous indignation came over her. The law still existed. She was still a human being with rights. Why should she have to suffer the endless assaults and invasions of her autonomy and privacy just because her sexual exposure was ubiquitous and complete? You're not permitted to just NC fuck a porn star you see on the street, so why should it be different for her?

She turned and strode down the side street, regaining her confidence with every step. Growing anger quickened her. Yes, she acted complicit many times. Yes, her body could not help but indicate it loved her treatment. Yes, she had seemingly encouraged this fate many times. But she still had the right to her own self-determination. Right?

She entered the station and went up to the front desk. As soon as she stood there and looked the receptionist in the eyes she suddenly felt awkward.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"I...I'd like to report a NC fuck."

The woman looked nonplussed.

"Who was NC fucked, sweetheart?"

"I was."


"Just now."

The woman stared at her over the rims of her glasses.

"You came here straight from the NC incident?"


"Did your attacker use a condom?"

"No. It was...there were several men."

"You're telling me several men just had sex with you against your will?"


Kattie suddenly noticed three other people in the waiting room. They were all glancing over at her, obviously hanging on to every word but trying not to make it obvious.

"And the men's semen is still inside of you?"

"Yes, I..." her voice dropped. "Yes it is, I think, for the most part."

The woman stood up and looked over the counter down at Kattie's bare legs.

"Just sit down right over there, honey....I'll get you a towel to sit on. I have some paperwork you will have to fill out."

She got the towel and sat on it. The others in the room kept glancing at her out of the corner of their eyes. The woman brought her a clipboard with a couple sheets of paper on it. They wanted her full info, of course. Full name, address, birth date, a copy of her driver's license. She carefully stood and went back up to the woman.

"M' I have to fill all of this out to make a report?"

The woman stared at her, dubious and unimpressed.

"Yes of course you do," she said. "It won't take you long. Don't worry, we protect your information."

Kattie went and sat back down. She thought about just getting up and leaving, but finally she gritted her teeth in resolve and put down all of the requested information. She returned the clipboard to the woman, with her ID stuck under the clamp.

The woman took it, made a copy of her ID, and then told her to wait. She sat on the towel for maybe 20 minutes before someone finally came out for her. It was a young, male officer.

"Kattie?" he asked. She looked up at him. "Come with me, please."

He led her into a room with a single table and two chairs. It looked like an interrogation room. A single adjoining room connected but had a closed door. He led her in and pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit in. He remained standing.

"Have you had a NC kit done?" he asked.

"No," Kattie faltered. "I thought we would maybe do that-"

"We don't do those here. You should have gone to the ER first."

He stared straight into her eyes, barely blinking. Kattie swallowed nervously. She suddenly felt a little stupid.

"You understand that NC attack is a serious accusation, correct? If this is a frivolous claim, it could ruin the lives of whatever men you're bringing this against. You're completely sure this was an encounter that you did not consent to in any way?"

She stared at him stupidly, her mouth hanging open.


"And you're aware that a false accusation of NC relation is, in itself, a crime?"

She shut her mouth, suddenly feeling as if she had to defend her rationale for coming here. She simply nodded.

The officer clinched his mouth shut, almost as if in disappointment, and then opened the adjoining door and leaned in. The officer muttered something to another man inside. As he came back out and shut the door behind him, Kattie caught a momentary glance inside the room. There, on the monitor of the computer in there, she saw what she knew she would: herself, a couple years younger, on her knees, covered in the cum of who knows how many men. The video was paused, but she knew what was happening. She was in the middle of stating her full name and how all men had standing consent with her body forever.

She was going to just stand up and walk out, not even wait for them to tell her to quit wasting their time, but a large, burly older man suddenly emerged from the computer room and stood blocking her exit from the room. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at her where she was frozen in her chair. He seemed to be sizing her up. Finally he spoke.

"Miss Duval...I'm a firm believer in consequences. For criminals, for politicians, for anyone on God's green earth. If you screw up, you should have to face the consequences of your actions. You should have to learn from your mistakes. Now, I don't know what kind of sick game you're up to here, but I don't like it. We've seen your filth you've put online. Now I can't fathom just what in the hell would possess a young, pretty lady like yourself to do something like that, but the fact is you did. You can't just offer yourself up to men and then say 'just kidding' when they take you up on it. That's called entrapment. Are you trying to ruin some young men's lives? Is that what's doing on here?"

He froze for several seconds as if waiting for her to actually respond, but she couldn't. She tried to speak but she just stared at him with her mouth hanging open again. She could tell her face was beat red. He spoke softer, as if disgusted to have to speak.

"If you didn't want to turn yourself into a public , then maybe you should have thought of the consequences before performing this...this spectacle. I cannot help you. Nobody but Jesus can do that."

He shook his head and held open the hallway door for her. She stood up and hurried out, not looking either of them in the face, tears starting to well in her eyes. She was humiliated, horrified by this greater realization of how truly alone and vulnerable and unprotected she was in this world. So why the fuck could she feel that her pussy was absolutely drenched again? It wasn't just the cum inside of her anymore. Her crotch had completely flooded, unbidden, as the man chastised her. She probably left a wet spot on their chair. She rushed out of the lobby, trying to avert her face from everyone there, and ran home.

She stayed in this place for another two weeks before finally having to call it quits. Four days after she went to the police station another guy from the forums recognized her as she walked home from work, and took her into his car and fucked her in the backseat. A week later it happened again with yet another guy. She was just relieved that neither of them drove off with her and kidnapped her, deciding she should be their permanent property. She knew she could be in danger of something like that at any time.

It was after this latest incident that she decided to move again. She was worried her location had been completely given away, even though she had never seen her address or place of work posted on the forums, which she had begun to look at almost every day. Still, she didn't want to risk having 100 horny r pists form the Internet who were obsessed with her showing up at her doorstep one day.

She took a bus to San Diego and again went through the tedious and troublesome process of finding living quarters. At least this time she had a little bit of funds. She found roommates online, places that would let her do month to month rents. She couldn't get bogged down with a lease when she knew she would quite possibly have to move again within a few months.

Four weeks in San Diego before her first street encounter. It was two guys at once, big Latino guys, who recognized her. It was a particularly bad time for it, as she had just been having a bout of horrible depression and fear and resentment over her new situation in life, wondering if this would really continue for the rest of her life, when they approached her. She tried to ignore them, desperately not in the mood to let disgusting strangers enter her body, but they followed her. She finally broke into a ran but they followed her down an alley and easily caught up to her. She started to yell but one of the guys smacked her in the face and then put her in a chokehold while his buddy picked her up and forced her legs open, pulling her panties down from under her skirt. She writhed and tried to fight them but she was completely borne aloft and helpless between them.
Kattie's New Life Begins Chapter 8
Posted:May 31, 2024 9:41 am
Last Updated:Jun 5, 2024 9:51 am
Kattie's head lolled over in the backseat of the cop car. She was nearly delirious with exhaustion and intoxication. The police officer, a beefy guy with a buzzed head and a cross tattoo on his neck, glanced up at her in the rear view mirror. Her blonde, full-bodied hair was a wreck, going in a hundred directions, matted with cum, just like her face. Her trashy makeup was completely ruined, almost washed away entirely from cum, sweat, and friction. "FREE BLOWJOBS" was still written on her forehead, "CUMWHORE" on both arms. Her eyes were almost glazed over and she seemed completely unaware of her surroundings. When they'd cuffed her she'd barely responded to them at all. She'd been clothed in just a 's top and torn fishnet stockings. Her shorts and heels had vanished some time before. They'd had to put a towel down on the seat before putting her in the back so that the cum leaking out of her wouldn't ruin the seat.

The cop shook his head in disgust and glanced over at his partner in the passenger seat.

"I doubt she's even a real prost. Too pretty and healthy for it, though you can barely tell by looking at her. Nah, this is some floozy who got too drunk at a frat house and let the natural in herself come out."

The younger cop looked back at her again.

"Yeah...I figure you're probably right, Chris."

"Not that that's any better in my book. Whores like her should be punished. God, women disgust me sometimes. Whatever her story is, we can easily book her for full-blown ."

"That'll teach her, sergeant."

Chris stared at her again in the mirror. A thick vein in his temple pulsed.

"No reason we've got to take her right to the station, though, is there?"

The younger cop slowly broke out into a toothy smile. "You serious, sarge?"

"Been a while since we've had some fun, right? Yeah...I think we'll be just fine if we teach this once and for all that she shouldn't get too drunk around guys she doesn't trust."

It was nearly 7 AM now and the sun was well up into the sky. Chris pulled the patrol car into a forested alcove of a remote park. In the backseat, he saw Kattie lift up her head and blearily look out the window.

Two minutes later she was leaning over the back of the patrol car, taking the older officer's fat cock up her pussy. Her splayed fingers clutched feebly at the back windshield. He was rough with her, ramming his substantial dick as deep and hard into her already abused pussy as he could, smashing her cervix. He switched to her asshole for a couple minutes, and then back to her pussy, eventually spreading her asscheeks apart wide with both hands as he swapped back and forth between her wrecked holes, managing to steer his cock into both without using a guiding hand. The younger cop watched in awe as his rough, brawny older mentor fucked the absolute shit out of this , bucking her so hard he was worried she'd break her hips slamming against the trunk of the car. He'd seen him do this a couple times before, but never with such vigor.

When Chris was almost ready he pulled out, pushed Kattie to her knees and then held open her eyelids with one huge hand while he jerked off straight onto her eyeballs.

"There," he said, and spat viciously into her face. "You probably won't even remember this will you, you worthless slut? Take your turn, Jared. Remember to be as rough on her as you want. They won't know any of the damage came from us."

Jared took his boss' lead, a bit more tepidly at first, but quickly getting into it as the delirious slut's loose, creamed pussy sculpted itself to the contour's of his cock, massaging him as it had done to god knows how many other cocks that night. Soon he was fucking her like Chris had, digging his fingers into her pale, squeezable asscheeks and holding her ass wide, switching his cock between her ruined holes at will.

Five minutes later they were back in the squad car driving, Kattie in the back seat rubbing her burning eyes, her tears trying to push out the cum of the two cops.

Chris glanced up at the wrecked girl in the rear view mirror. He ground his teeth together.

"Maybe she hasn't learned her lesson yet. No need to bring her in just yet. Let's give her a little more justice of our own before we let her out of our hands."

Jared smiled as they drove. Roxbury was one of the worst neighborhoods in Boston, crawling with crack addicts, felons, and gangbangers. Half the time the police force didn't even respond to calls in the area. It looked like a warzone.

Chris drove to the common area between a block of projects. It wasn't even 8 yet but already various miscreants were walking around doped up or drinking liquor on stoops, most of them probably still just up from the night before. When they saw the cop car pull in they all turned a wary eye toward them.

Chris parked and got out. When they saw him haul a mostly-naked pretty white girl from the back seat, suddenly the vibe changed. About ten different thugs and junkies started leering and catcalling as they watched the two cops drag Kattie over to a picnic bench and lay her down on it, handcuffing her ankles to opposite ends of the bench, leaving her legs forced wide apart. Her wrists were similarly handcuffed together up above her head. They'd seen these same cops leave hookers here before for a few hours to teach them a lesson, but they'd never brought anything that looked this good.

Chris waved to them. "Here's something to keep you out of trouble, boys. We'll be back when our next shift starts at 10 tonight!"

They whooped and hollered and laughed. Jared was in awe. This half-delirious little white cumdump had 14 hours of jig cock to look forward to before going to jail. They'd never left a here even half that long before. Chris must really want to break this one good. The girl lifted her head up and looked around a little, but then she collapsed back down and looked to be out cold. Jared could tell she didn't know what the fuck was going on yet. She must have partied pretty damn hard last night.

As they drove off they saw the sharks start to close in on their prey.


Kattie passed in and out of consciousness. She was hot and sweaty, the sun hurt her eyes. Occasionally a silhouette of a head appeared above her, blocking the light. She had a splitting headache from hell. She realized she was getting fucked again. She didn't know where she was. She vaguely remembered being arrested. How did she get here?

A fan from the night before had followed the cops ever since her arrest, tailing them in his own car from several car lengths back at all times. He had no intention to interfere, his original intention was just to see what facility they booked her in, but the journey had turned out to be far more interesting.

Now he was lurking about 20 feet away from the action. He felt a little nervous here, but no one even paid him any attention. They were all focused on getting a piece of the white bitch the cops had left for them.

The guy had been filming ever since they first started fucking her. The guys on the forums had to see this shit. It was important that all of her debasement was documented. For thirty minutes now they'd been going at it. The cops had fastened her to the bench in such a way that her pussy and the bottom of her ass were hanging off one of the narrow ends of the picnic table. People just had to walk right up and slip their cocks in. So far 8 guys had put their fat, naked black cocks in her and left her dripping with seed. The fan mentally added the tally up. That made 570 total for her. He himself had been number 504 the night before.

He recorded it all as hoodrat after hoodrat came up and got their free pussy. Not a single one used a condom. They laughed and hollered laughing encouragement at each other as they all went, one after the other, ranging in age from old wrinkled men to boys who looked to still be in high school. Those who weren't inside her at the moment recorded with their phones, no doubt posting to their stories on Snapchat or Instagram or whatever else. The sun rose higher. 580, 581, 582. They fucked her, busted a nut in her, and then left, seemingly losing interest almost immediately. Kattie seemed to come to her senses every now and then, but only long enough to lift her head and see the crowd of black bodies milling at the head of the table she was tethered to, before she collapsed back down.

The procession continued all day, remarkably casually. No one revisited after their first turn, with the exception of a few youths who brought some of their other friends back later to get some. Everyone else mostly just got off in the white 's pussy or ass and then went about their day. This evidently wasn't the craziest thing they'd seen this week.

By the time the two cops came back to pick her up, 78 new black cocks had entered her. The fan made sure it all got uploaded and documented on the forums. Her number was up to 640. The rate of men using her had dwindled down throughout the day, but had stayed fairly steady. She'd hardly gone ten minutes without a cock inside of her. All she'd had to drink all day was opened cans of Bud Lights and other malt liquors people had offered her, with a water here or there. Still, she had to be massively dehydrated, especially coming off of an alcohol and drug hangover to begin with. Someone had put cheap sunglasses on her at one point, creating a somewhat comical image, but she'd barely reacted to that or any other stimulus the whole day. She'd come out of her reverie a few times, but only to glance around, tug feebly at her restraints and then just collapse back into stillness for an hour or more, helpless to stop man after man from stepping in between her legs and sampling her holes.

They released the cuffs holding her to the table, then helped her to her feet. Her modest tits were spilling out of her scant top, and the torn fishnet stocking that were her only other garment of clothing did absolutely nothing to hide any part of her. A huge hole had been ripped in the crotch to allow people easy access. Her bare toes poked through the stockings as she stood shoeless in the dirt.

They turned her around and cuffed her hands behind her back. They took obliging eyewitness testimony that the girl was a and had been selling her goods all day long. They took notes to the effect that she had been selling her body for $3 a pop, to be entered into the official police and public records. No one knew the exact number, but given corroborating estimates, Chris thought that 70 individual counts of would be fair. He wouldn't even write her up for the guys she was slinging her pussy to last night.

Kattie made no comment to any of this. She could barely open her eyes. She looked as wrecked as any of them had ever seen a person. The fan watched her get placed in the backseat of the cop car once again, but they had peeled out before he could follow again.


Her mugshot became somewhat legendary on her fan forums, and was circulated widely across the web, added to the many extensive galleries dedicated to her. They loved the depth of her downfall. Her brilliant blue-gray eyes were wide, as if in shock. Traces of ruined makeup were still slightly noticeable in faded streaks at a couple places on her face. Her blonde hair was teased up and wild, pointing in a thousand different directions. Dried flakes of semen adorned her skin and hair. "FREE BLOWJOBS" was still written on her forehead, and you could even just barely see where "Kattie Duval - oops, I'm a again" was scrawled across the top of her chest. Only her carefully shaped eyebrows looked normal. Everything else was beautifully wrecked. She had a tiny hint of a smile at the corners of her lips, but it didn't look like a genuine smile. It was a smile of exhaustion, of delirium and irony and shame. A bashful "did I do that?"

The mugshot was most widely paired side by side with a close up someone had caught of her face when she'd first walked into the hotel suite two nights ago. It felt like an eternity ago to her now. "Before and after Kattie's romantic engagement evening." In the left picture she looked so put-together, so dolled up and classy. Such a contrast to herself on the right, after an almost non-stop two days of getting dicked by guy after guy after guy. The left picture had "Dick count: 302"; on the right, "Dick count: 640", with the dates on each. A mere 48 hours apart. In the mugshot on the right she looked absolutely shellshocked.

She was processed and booked, then showered in a communal shower with eight other women, all of them much bigger and rougher and older than her. They taunted her and jeered at her, asking how a young and slender little thing like her ended up in here. She finally got to sleep and slept straight through until the next night. It wasn't until she woke up that she began to process what had happened to her, and how fucked she was. There was no one to post bail for her. No one to call. She tried to take deep breaths and calm herself, but it was almost impossible to stop the tears and tremors of anger and frustration that swept over her when she thought about the complete indignity and injustice of what had happened to her. The tears only made the other inmates mock her harder. She tried not to even look at them. She attempted to explain her story to an officer through the bars once, but he just smirked at her. She wasn't even sure what to tell him. *Was* this her fault, after all?

Of course her situation became completely impossible once the officers looked her up. She knew when they'd done it. They came back in smiling at her in a way more obvious and suggestive than they had before. The warden in charge that shift riffed through a small stack of papers in his hands, scrunching up his face and shaking his head in mock disapproval. He flipped the sheets for her to see, one at a time.

"Kattie Ann Duval. That's you, right? This is indeed you in these pictures?"

It was a gallery of her worst exploits. The worst things they'd done to her. Her face so covered in cum you couldn't see her skin; her legs spread wide, cunt gaped straight back to the cervix; her getting fucked by three guys at once; drinking a glass of strangers' piss; a wine bottle shoved nearly neck-deep up her pussy.

She obviously couldn't deny it. She looked down, unable to make eye contact with him, down at the orange jumpsuit she was wearing and the hard concrete beneath her feet.

"You're quite a wild girl, aren't you Kattie?" The man's rank breath hit her between the bars. It smelled like liquor and cigarettes. "Looks like your exploits finally caught up with you."

That night they pulled her out of bed and called her into a sequestered office at the far end of a hall. A guard led her there in handcuffs behind her back. Inside, the warden and two other officers were there, grinning and rubbing hard ons through their pants.

She sucked all four of them off, including her escort, on her knees with the handcuffs still chafing her wrists. Then they put her on the desk and pulled her prison pants down around her ankles and took turns using her pussy from behind, each one of them nutting in her within a minute or less. Then she got back on her knees and cleaned her juices off all four of their cocks. They each gave her an ironic kiss goodnight and told her what a good prisoner she was. They led her back to her cage, took off the cuffs, and locked her in. She cried herself to sleep in her bunk, trying to not make a noise so as to not bother her huge, mean dyke of a cellmate.

The next day they moved her to another jail. She stayed here three days, and each night was taken into a backroom and made to service the guards there, a different set of four men every night.

As he led her back to her cell after the third night, one of the guards winked at her and whispered "It would be a real shame for you if you just got misplaced somewhere in the legal system indefinitely, wouldn't it? Be pretty nice for us though."

The weight and significance of his words slowly sunk in as he locked the cell behind her. She felt a cold slug of semen drop out of her cunt and slide down her leg inside her jumpsuit. She got into bed and curled up into a fetal position.

The next morning, sure enough, they moved her to yet another jail. It became clear to her that there was a ring of deputies and wardens in cahoots, conspiring to shuffle her from one jail to another, losing her paperwork, making it impossible for any of her fans or anyone else to track her down and bail her out. Every three days, on average, they would move her to another location. At each jail she would fuck every guard on duty each night, a total of 12 men at each facility. She was brought to eight different jails before seeing a repeated location. These were the eight facilities she would be shuffled between at random for the next several months of her life. 96 different correctional officer cocks to please.

About one month in it became obvious she was pregnant, and obvious that she would be receiving no medical care about it. Termination certainly wasn't on the table. She vomited every morning. She knew she'd be made to carry this anonymous fetus to term, trapped in a rotating shuffle of corrupt officer cocks who had absolutely no motive to free her or help her in any way. She'd never know who fathered it, or even what race he was until it was born. She recalled she was ovulating the first night at the gangbang that Kevin had forced her into. This thing could belong to absolutely anyone, and no one would ever know who.

By about her third lap around the different jails, the guards decided they were no longer excited by just fucking this trapped - they wanted to see her really be put through her paces. After they were done fucking her in the office, they brought her back and instead of bringing her to her own cell, diverted her down a different hallway and locked her in a cell with the two biggest male prisoners in the facility: two heavily tattooed black guys both standing over 6 feet tall and north of 250 pounds. They both stood up in surprise when they saw what was being brought to them. They froze as if they thought it might be a trap. It wasn't until the locking mechanism snapped into place behind her and the guards turn and walked away with a mocking "Sweet dreams, baby," that Kattie and the two prisoners realized they were really intending to leave her here for the entire night.

It took about 30 minutes before the prisoners were convinced that the guards were really letting them do this. When they were, they took no mercy on her. These were men who hadn't so much as seen a woman in months, let alone had the opportunity to fuck one so attractive as Kattie. Her screams reverberated down the cellblock all night as the two men ravaged every opening in her body, over and over, bringing themselves to orgasm so many times they were barely able to produce any semen by the end of it. The other prisoners in adjacent cells heard her screams and hurled filthy slurs at her, encouraging the two lucky prisoners and telling Kattie exactly what they'd do to her if they got their chance.

For six hours it went on. When they came to collect her in the morning her jumpsuit had been ripped into a few useless shreds, and she was laying quivering and crying on the floor of the cell, holding her knees to her chest, her skin and wild hair crusted and matted with semen and the same pouring out of all of her raw, ugly red orifices.

"How did you get out of your cell, you nasty ?" the guard demanded in mock surprise.

He got her to her feet, cuffed her hands behind her back, and let her naked and crying past all the other male cells, not bothering to steer her out of reach of their grasping hands clawing at her tits and ass and pussy.

The next night they left her in another cell, and the next night another. She'd never been fucked with the vigor and raw anger that these men fucked her with. They all came within 15 seconds of entering one of her holes for the first time, but they were all ready to go several more rounds after that. They fucked her as if driven by sheer compulsion, knowing they may have little or no opportunity to fuck a woman again for months, or years. She obviously didn't get to sleep at all during these nights, and could only catch a few scattered minutes here and there throughout the next day, curled naked on her cot. They didn't give her a replacement jumpsuit until the fourth morning, when it was time to move jails again.

This scenario repeated at each of her 8 rotating jails. For three nights at each location she would be subjected to brutal, no-holds-barred double penetrations by a different pair of cellmates every night. 48 different men in the first circuit - all ravenous, all vicious, all insatiable. No one fucks you like men facing lengthy prison sentences. They would fuck her until they couldn't cum any more, and then they would fuck her with their fists, just to do something to her, or gape her holes open with two hands, as wide as they could, spitting into the pink maw of her cavernous cunt. The guards, now mostly active users on her fansites and forums, began recording some of her exploits, and reporting her continued tally of bodies. 784 now. When they fetched her in the mornings she was increasingly haggard and delirious and battered, bruises on her tits and crotch and legs, hickeys all over, holes so stretched and raw it hurt to look at them. The only first aid they gave her was ointments and salves for her pussy and asshole, and that only so that they could physically continue their prolonged assault on her. It was clear that none of them gave a second's worth of thought to her as a person. They'd seen online what she was capable of. Why would they give her anything but more of the same?

It went on forever. On the second rotation of jails they moved her to different pairs of cellmates. Another 48 men over the course of 24 days. 832 now.

Two and a half months in jail now. She was becoming visibly pregnant. A small rounding of her belly. A slight enlarging of her breasts. It made no difference to them. They began throwing her nude into the men's communal showers. The guards let them take their time. Two-hour-long gangbangs. Her numbers skyrocketed. Another 20 additional guys at each jail. 870. 900. She only wore clothes during the transfers between jails. One night the guards had a needle ready, and after they all took their turns with her in the office they held her arms behind her back and quickly and deftly pierced both of her nipples, quickly sliding a bar into each one afterward. She bit her lower lip and fought back the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She looked down when they were done, where the silver balls emerged on either ends of her pink nipples.

"Don't you ever take those out, unless you want your life to get a whole lot worse."

They took her back to her cell. Those piercings would become the only adornment her body had 99% of her time in jail.

4 months inside. She wondered if she'd ever get out. Could they really shuffle her around, mismanaging the books forever? Her life was never-ending cocks and force and dehumanization and cum. They threw her a mock celebration and video-taped her up close as she took the 1000th different cock of her life. A proud milestone.

She was quite obviously pregnant now, her belly swelling and her nipples getting wider and brown and engorged, beginning to painfully swallow the ends of her barbell piercings.. Gone were the pert little titties and small pink nipples she'd had before. They swung back and forth and leaked little trails of milk while they fucked her, which the men licked up and sucked out of her with gusto. They were running out of prisoners they were willing to entrust her to. She'd started repeating with some guys.

She ate in her cell. Every single meal of every day that they brought her was topped with fresh jizz from one or multiple cooks. They didn't try to hide it. Sometimes it was clear that as many as ten guys had cum on her food before they brought it to her, and there wasn't a single square inch she could pick at that was unsoiled. She eventually just began mixing it into the food as best as she could and eating it anyway, trying not to think about it. She never had a single bite of food that didn't include jizz.

She was always cellmates with the biggest, meanest dykes they could find. When she wasn't being fucked by half the male inmates in the jail she was getting her face shoved up some hairy, foul cunt. She was by far the smallest and weakest female in any of the jails, and by the far the most attractive and most prime for exploitation. There had never been a jail bitch like she was made into a bitch. Nearly every waking second of her incarceration was spent getting used and abused by someone, whether male or female, prisoner or warden. No one was going to save her, and with the exception of intervening only if her life was in literal imminent danger, no one assisted her in any way.

At 1021 she finally reached jailhouse cock equilibrium and was back to getting fucked by guys who had fucked her before. Everyone else was too new to be trusted or in for too short of a time. The lucky cellblock always cheered uproariously when she cycled back to their jail. They knew for the next three days their showers would be wild.

Sometimes she wondered how she lived. She eventually just adapted to having constant pain in every orifice of her body. She almost couldn't remember what it was like not to have an aching, raw chafe between her legs at all times.

Six months in. Her belly continued to swell outward, her breasts continued to fatten. Her nipples were so thick and brown and long now she couldn't recognize them as her own, her areolas wider too. All of the dozens of men who regularly fucked her were always sure to feed from her engorged breasts, sucking hard, nibbling and gnawing at her fat nipples with their teeth. Sometimes they would just encircle her tits with their hands and squeeze them as hard as they could, tightening their grip around the base of them until they turned purple and Kattie thought they would pop. Her milk would squirt out in splintered little streams. They loved to wack her sensitive tits hard as well, just to hear her cry out in pain. They would flick her nipples hard and pull on her piercings, stretching her nipples out by inches. Every now and then they'd replace her bar piercings with hoops, which were even easier to tug on. At times she was worried they'd rip them full out.

Her belly was almost becoming a hindrance to missionary style fucking, but guys just spread her legs further apart and fucked her that much harder, just flopping into her belly over and over if they had to. After her shower gangbangs she would sometimes just lie there on the cold wet tile, her holes all flashing with soreness, and feel the baby inside of her kicking against her womb. The of some man she would never identify or see again. In these moments, with cum even now congealing on her face and pouring from her overworked orifices she would see herself as part of some never-ending cycle of domination and breeding and defeat. I would think back on my old life, before I was a living cum-receptacle and object of ridicule and convenience for men, with no hint of recognition, the way you or I might look upon the life of someone obscenely rich or famous, as if from across a canyon of differences.

One night in the backroom the needle came back out. They made her lay back on the table and then held her legs open wide, their fresh cum leaking out of her cunt, as their piercer prepared his tools and then deftly slid his needle up the underside of her hood and then pushed through until it emerged through the other side, above her clit. Her brain flashed with pain. I nearly passed out when I looked down and saw the needle sticking straight through me. He quickly slid a new barbell through and they sent me back to my cell, their forced metal now positioned in a triangle on the front of my body. The bottom bell nudged against my clit with every step I took.

They cycled her to the different jails at random now, trying not to have any discernible pattern. She came to remember the mannerisms and preferences of certain prisoners. Came to remember certain cocks. She wondered, day after day, whether they intended to move her around, skirting the bureaucracy of the justice system, forever, or whether she might walk free again. She wondered if it would even make a difference. Was she really any better off out in the world? Freedom was, in many ways, a thing that had been taken from her forever, no matter what the current circumstances of her habitation.

Eight months. My 27th birthday passed at some point. I looked so pregnant it seemed like the baby might already come out any day. The changes that occurred in my body seemed to be localized mostly to my belly and my breasts. I still mostly looked like the slender girl I'd always been, just deeply pregnant and with changed breasts and a slightly fatter ass. My hormones went wild. Some days I couldn't wait for my shower gangbang, I felt like I wanted every man on earth to take me; other days the very smell of a man could make me nauseous. Those days were the worst.

A few new faces rotated in to her fuck lineups, but it mostly stayed the same. She got up to 1044 total. Her female cellmates and shower-peers (on the rare times she was permitted to shower with the females) didn't give her any reprieve at all. They all got to take out their aggression and rage on her. It was in many ways more demeaning coming from them. That she was so weak and pathetic that she was the bitches' bitch. She never even tried to fight them though. In addition to all the male prisoners who kept their balls drained in her, Kattie had to put her tongue in the pussies and all over the assholes of several dozen female prisoners, nearly all of whom were big, scary, or nasty, if not all three. Whenever they had to piss they wouldn't wipe themselves with toilet paper afterward, but would rather have Kattie crawl over on all fours and lick up all the residual urine from their foul vulvas and pubic bushes.

The female prisoners seemed to resent her for some reason, as if she was getting special treatment. She was, of course, but not the kind anyone would ever want. They would slap her out of nowhere or shove her from behind and knock her to the floor. They all seemed to unify together behind their disdain for her, laughing whenever anything humiliating happened to her. When they realized that the guards would nearly always look the other way when it came to mistreatment of Kattie, they only became more bold.

In the showers they would slap her swollen pregnant tits, or shove their fingers and fists up her pussy and asshole, or lodge soap bars up them. In the cells they'd have her sit nude at a table and place her tits right up on the edge of the table, the big nipples just barely on the edge, then another woman would get on the table barefoot and stand right on her pierced nipples, putting all their weight on them, the balls of her feet crushing Kattie's nipples into the steel tabletop. Kattie's screams would echo throughout the entire jail, and milk would shoot out in multiple directions in thin jets. She would shake violently and her eyes would roll into the back of her head as they shifted their weight around on her tits, sometimes just putting all of it right on the ends of her nipples and sometimes standing on the fat of the whole breast. Kattie would nearly pass out from the pain, but could still expect this to happen at least twice a week.

When she'd been in jail for nine months it looked like something was just waiting to rip out of her belly. It extended straight out three times longer than her engorged tits, which were also swollen and transformed that she didn't recognize them. Her nipples and areolas themselves seemed to be engorged, like little torpedoes that were always hard and jutting out, her barbells now just barely poking out of the sides of her fat, brown nipples. Her bellybutton was distended and bulging out. She was lucky enough to not have any very bad stretch marks on her belly or tits.

The guards videoed every single time she got fucked solo or gangbang and put it on her forums. Her extremely pregnant form seemed to excite them all even more, as if appealing to some deeply primitive part of their brains that triggered increased aggression. They would grab her by the hair and spin her around on the wet tile floor of the showers to get her into position to fuck the next guy, and would slam into her cunt so hard that she would sometimes have bruises around her crotch. Her lower piercing made every thrust feel like a direct assault on her clit.

"Bitch looks like she's pregnant with a whole litter of runts."

With cum leaking out of her still-shaved pussy and asshole just below her enormously pregnant belly she would look like a breed-pig caught in a never-ending cycle of mating, as if as soon as she delivered the one she was incubating now the next sperm would catch. Something that just lived to pop out whelps for whatever marauding cock managed to knock her up - a never-ending cycle of cum.

She felt the baby kicking every day. It kept her awake half the time she was even allowed to attempt to sleep. Between that and the hormones and the abuse, she felt as if her mind was coming untethered half the time.

Her water broke one night as she was having her private-time with two of the senior prisoners in their cell. She was on all fours, getting fucked in the throat on one end and fucked in the ass on the other, when she suddenly felt a sort of pop and then a wash of warm liquid flowing down her inner thighs. At first she thought she had squirted, as she was wont to do sometimes, but she quickly realized it wasn't that. It poured out in a sudden and prolonged gush of yellowish fluid that pooled up in the hollows of the white bed sheets around her knees.

The guy in her ass paused mid thrust.

"What in the fuck? You piss yourself, you nasty bitch?"

The two men looked at her in confusion and partial horror as it dawned on them what was happening.

"Oh hell no, get her out of our cell if she's doing this."

The guards came and took her to the shower room to birth the baby. She labored through the night, unassisted, the guards just poking their heads in uncertainly from time to time. One of them brought in a camera on a tripod, positioned it in front of her, between her spread legs, and left it running. Never a private moment. She soon became too distracted by the discomfort to continue paying it any attention.

Eventually they brought in one of the male nurses when his shift started. He was part of the ring of men who had regularly taken turns fucking her all these months. He came in and saw her panting and sweating, lying in the labor position on the shower floor. He put fingers from both hands into her vagina and pried her open for a look.

"It will be here pretty soon," was all he said. With that he left her again.

By the time of the morning shower the baby still hadn't crowned. All the male prisoners from the cellblock filed in, bemused or wicked grins on all their faces. They had heard her huffing and moaning all night.

The guards let them keep her company all through the process. Most just kept their distance and watched, but many took the opportunity to crouch in front of her face and shove their hard cocks into her open mouth, despite her major protests.

Soon they saw the dark head peek forth from between those massively parted labia in a thick welter of blood and fluid, the clit piercing placed so incongruously above. Kattie became quite possibly the first person ever to deliver a baby while getting throatfucked. The rest of them watched her whelp her anonymous spawn onto the ground like a dog. She gagged and wretched and screamed when she could get air. She looked down and saw the head with its wet, wiry hairs splitting her cunt wide open. She screamed at the top of her lungs and passed in and out of consciousness.

The nurse came back in time to see the infant burst forth in a final screaming push from Kattie, deposited onto the shower floor in a tide of amniotic fluid. He picked it up, wiped the viscera from its eyes and severed the umbilical cord. He directed one of the shower heads to spray in between Kattie's legs, and then held the up to be cleaned by the water.

The nurse tried to staunch the bleeding between her legs, but it kept on. He had the guards come and remove the prisoners from the area.

She was brought into the medical area. She was put onto a bed and the baby was laid across her bare chest. It was a boy. It was half black. It latched onto her pierced nipples and mawed harshly with its gums. She felt delirious. She felt no connection to this at all.

The nurse was looking increasingly frantic. He put gauze between her legs. He ran lines. He pulled out his personal phone and made multiple calls. She heard the words "hemorrhaging," and "scrutiny."

She faded out of consciousness. She woke in an ambulance and faded out again and rewoke in another room. Sunlight came in through a window. There was a nurse in the room. A female nurse. She took her pulse and told her to rest. The baby was gone.

She slept and woke and slept again. She was on enough painkillers to make her float in a world of apathy and disconnect.

When she finally really came to, she felt like she had been hit by a train, but her mind was finally clear. The baby was brought back to her at some point. They laid it on her chest and she allowed it to breastfeed. Her nipple and clit piercings had been removed at some point.

Eventually some legal caseworker came and discussed the specifics of her case. She barely took in what the woman was saying. She cited precedent, argued areas of jurisprudence. They had reviewed her unique case, seen her "lifestyle" that was well-documented online. The would become a ward of the state. She was, however, being released due to the numerous apparent clerical errors and rights violations that seemed to have taken place during her incarceration. Her arrest and charges would stay on her record.

She saw the sheet.

Kattie Ann Duval. Sex: F. Age: 26. Eight counts of . One count of indecent exposure. One count of public intoxication.

She was given time to say goodbye to the baby. Her baby. It didn't feel like hers. She looked at it there on her, sucking at her breast with its eyes closed and its fine hair in tiny black curls on its head. She felt no connection to it. It was something that had been an invader inside of her body for nine months, overdeveloped cum from someone who had fucked her probably without a word to her, who had used her and planted his semen into her womb without a moment's hesitation, knowing that his would be just one load among a hundred or more others, that he would never be identified or found if he happened to be the one to knock her up. She felt bad for the . But she just couldn't care for it. She was glad they were taking it away.

She stayed in the hospital for another two days. Even though all the nurses treated her very coldly and with barely-disguised disdain, it was still the first time in nine months she had been treated like anything other than a piece of meat. She almost cried. They ran tests. They told her she had chlamydia and gonorrhea, but they could be cured with antibiotics. She declined a pap smear. What difference would it make? A motherly older nurse sternly told her it was "a miracle" she didn't have HIV. Kattie turned crimson red in the face but said nothing.

Finally, after some final rounds of tests and medicine administration, they filed her paperwork, and told her she was free to leave. They offered to let her see the baby one last time but she declined. They gave her some donated, poorly fitting clothes to leave in. She had no other possessions in the world, not even a wallet or phone. No ID, no card, nothing. She could maybe try to contact Kevin to retrieve some of her things from her old apartment, if it was even still around, but she didn't want to have to see or speak to him. What would she do with some furniture now anyway? Where would she put it? She blinked in the sunlight and went and sat on a bus stop bench, dazed. It was the first time she had been out free in the world in over nine months. The first time since realizing how far-reaching and comprehensive her exploitation and exposure was online. The last time she was free in the world, she was going out to a nice dinner with her boyfriend, thinking that she was about to be proposed to, that she had successfully started another life and could move on from the horrible fate that had befallen her. How wrong she had been. How naive.

She sat on the bus stop bench and watched a bus pull up, wait a moment, and then move on again. Her head spun at the complete hopelessness or her situation. Where could she even go? She probably couldn't go get a job, not with her obviously comprehensive online presence, and now a criminal record. Her old fears about being recognized on the streets were now confirmed to be legitimate. People obviously recognized her frequently, and now they'd probably be more bold than ever in having their way with her.

She looked at the TV trying to get her mind off of things. Watching Msnbc Opinion shows. All of a sudden plastered on the screen was her image. They were talking about the legality of people relying on her video. Images of her facing a camera, flashed on the screen and saying: "My name is Kattie Ann Duval. Any man can fuck me anytime. If I say no, I really mean yes. Take this statement as my consent."

Everyday people now obviously saw that, and now she knew they would be taking it seriously. These people saw other people taking advantage of it and facing no consequences. Why couldn't they? The commentator's were saying that no, this couldn't be fully, legally, relied upon, but with the caviot that one would be hard pressed to find a judge that would ruin a poor young man's life over him believing he had her consent. Any defendant could easily show this piece of video in court, claiming "your honor she gave me consent"! The commentators, on national television drew attention to the Kattie Duval forums. In a spilt second there were nine million new viewers to her ordeal.

Far from slipping away into the dark corners of the web to fade into obscurity, a whole thriving community of interest had now sprung up around her, sharing, duplicating, spreading, seeking out the creation of new content. They were chatting with each other, setting up groups in each city to seek her out. She hadn't had to face the reality while she was in jail, bizarrely protected in a sense inside those walls. Now that she was out here again, alone, the full weight of the implications of all those fan sites they had showed her that night in the hotel suite hit her.

Should she try to get back to Lakewood and just attempt to go back to her old life, albeit reduced to a shamed ? Just embrace her fate? What else could she do? Would any of her family or friends even accept her?

She eventually walked to a nearby homeless shelter to spend the night. She had no other options for the time being. She gave them a fake name. They didn't ask too many questions.

She lay in bed, wondering what would happen to her next. She wondered if she would even be able to maintain any sense of control of her life at all, or if that was forever surrendered to the whims of multitudes of cruel, lustful strangers. She knew the answer. She reached down and felt the wetness between her legs, and, furious at herself, quietly brought herself to orgasm under the sheets and then cried herself to sleep.
Kattie's New Life Begins Chapter 7b
Posted:May 26, 2024 2:26 pm
Last Updated:May 31, 2024 2:17 pm
Finally most of the people present who wanted a piece seemed to have gotten their turn. They were moving on to other games. She was given a large bump of cocaine and a couple sharp slaps to the face to wake her all the way back up; they wanted her fully alert for this. She was laid out on her back on a couch as men gathered around to jack off on her face - some were people who were willing only to do this, while most were guys who had fucked her already at some point in the last two nights and were spilling yet another load for her. She laid back against the couch, her head slumped back in exhaustion and her mouth hanging open, tongue lolling out, as cock after cock came up and shot their lust on her facial features.

On and on it went. Maybe half the men present had dropped their jizz on her face - well over a hundred loads - before it was just impractical to continue. Her face was so coated in cum it looked like a bowl of pancake batter had been upended over her head - it could have been anyone's face under there, with every facet of her features hidden under this opaque wall of whitish-yellow man-plasm. It was even so thick in her hair that you couldn't tell the color. The only hints that a human lurked beneath the mess were her haywire eyelashes sticking up from the goo, and the two tiny holes where her nostrils struggled to take in air, the film of cum there flexing in and out of her strained airholes with every breath she took, some sucking up into her sinuses each time.

Steve's dick was so hard it hurt. He imagined what she must be thinking at this moment. He'd followed her every step on the fan forums. Just a couple days ago she'd thought that maybe she'd escaped all this. That being an ultra-violated cumwhore was something she could leave in her dark, sad past. She'd started dressing cute again, doing her hair and makeup pretty, thinking she'd started a new life and would be allowed dignity again. Not so. Wearing a heavy mask of cum yet again, filmed for the world to see. Now she must know that this will follow her wherever she goes.

An abundance of pictures were snapped before they finally pulled her upright and scraped all the cum off her face into a large glass. It was a large margarita glass, but by the time they'd scraped the bulk of the jizz from her face it was nearly halfway full, so piled up had it all been on her.

They set the glass aside, evidently not ready for her to make use of the cum inside of it. More guys still wanted to get their cum on her. For another half hour or more, more and more guys came up and jerked off onto her. Any fucked up way they could think to degrade her that had not already happened, they did. Some guys held her eyelids open wide and let their burning, stinging cum ooze out directly onto her eyeballs. Others came up her nostrils, and had her sharply inhale to snort the semen up into her sinuses. The whites of her eyes were completely bloodshot, looking more pink and red than white, and cum was actually leaking out of her tearducts, so full of semen were her sinuses. She involuntarily clenched her eyes shut to try to stop the burning pain of the cum, but it did no good. Tears poured down her cheeks, mingling with the cum there. Someone had inserted a liter bottle from the fridge up her stretched-out cunt, letting it hang halfway out of her ruined snatch as the cum circus on her face continued. Steve had never seen such a destroyed-looking woman, not in any smut he'd ever found in any corner of the internet. Especially not one that had even half of the natural beauty that Kattie normally had. Now that beauty was hidden under several layers of sweat, cum, and general filth. Every orifice of her body looked stretched or reddened with use.

More excess cum was scraped from her body and into the large glass, which was now a good three quarters full. They got her to lay on her back on the ground, then raise her ass up in the air, her shoulders supporting her whole body, her legs and feet hanging back toward her head. Her pussy was up like an offering plate for them, situated a couple feet above where her face watched from the ground.

At their bidding, Kattie reached a few fingers from each hand into her pussy and pulled it open as wide as she could, which given its earlier stretching, was fairly wide. Guys stood above her and took turns jacking off into her open birth canal.

Cumshot after cumshot Steve watched land in and on her, her crotch eventually so painted in cum you couldn't see the skin. Jizz would land on her butthole and then slide down her sloped taint and into her gaped, waiting cunt. When everyone who could cum at the moment had done so, someone took the margarita glass and poured cum into her until her raised pussy was filled to the brim. Leaving almost half still in the glass. Every time she slightly moved some of the load would slosh out and splatter in white droplets on her wincing face.

They had her hold it in for a while, telling her it was to let as much of the cum seep down into her womb as possible. Eventually someone produced a shallow plug, riveted and wide enough to seal her vagina, but not long enough to displace much of the cum. Its intended job was to seal the cum inside of her pussy. Someone told her she had to keep all of it inside of her as long as possible.

Finally Steve saw the camera cut over to the fridge, where someone was retrieving the platter of used, tied off condoms that had been produced over the last two nights. While most people had bravely opted to go bareback in her, the festivities had still produced 89 condoms, filled with the cum of 89 different men. Steve heard someone order the condoms to be put in the microwave on the reheat setting, "just enough to get them back up to body temperature for her, like they're fresh again." Kattie was staring at this occurrence slack jawed, slightly queasy looking. Someone split the condoms into different batches, so they could be reheated in waves and all be the appropriate temperature when given to Kattie.

The first ten were heated and then brought to her.

"You made them fill up," someone said to her. "Now empty them."

She was sitting on her knees on the ground, her ass resting on the soles of her feet. She was looking at the large bowl that housed the full condoms, at the much larger pile waiting in the kitchen, at the big, still half-full margarita glass of cum. It was an incredible amount of semen to get through. Steve could just imagine what was going through her head. Then her eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, her face flushed red, and she grabbed the first condom from the bowl.

She punctured the tip with a canine tooth, then clamped two fingers at the far end of the soiled condom and squeezed all of the contents forward into her mouth. She hesitated a moment, swallowed, and then picked up the next.

She proceeded stoically through the next three batches, 30 condoms broken open and emptied into her mouth, swallowing one spent load after another. All the while she remained on her knees on the ground, ignoring the cameras and smartphones and leering faces getting right up in her face as she got through her ordeal.

For condoms 40 - 60 they placed the bowl on the ground and told her she had to empty them all without hands. Someone poured a generous offering of extra cum from the margarita glass into the bowl so that she could go "bobbing" for condoms.

They tied her wrists together behind her back, and then nudged her head toward the bowl. She sank her face into the shallow pool of cum, fishing around in the muck with her tongue until she found a condom. She clamped it between her lips and came up with it, her face dripping with jizz.

"Now find a way to empty it!" someone shouted at her.

Kattie sucked the whole condom into her mouth and then bit into it, opening a hole, then sucked the contents from it, all within her mouth.

"Tongue out! Show us!"

Her mouth opened and her pink tongue extended, showing the mangled, wadded up, but empty condom resting there. A mocking cheer, and then she spit the empty rubber out and went back down for the next one.

She finished another 20 condoms like this, her face and hair slathered with jizz from the bowl by the time she was done. They had her run her tongue over every surface of the bowl when they'd had enough, completely cleaning it free of all the extra cum that had been in it. They'd untied her wrists and had her on all fours now, and someone had the idea to stuff all the empty, discarded condoms into her holes while she finished the job. Someone picked them all up from the floor and stuffed them into her pussy, one by one, until dozens were crammed in there, eventually hanging out in different shades of green, pink, blue, or yellow translucent latex. By the time she'd eaten the cum from the 70th condom, they had to start stuffing them in her asshole too.

Eventually she emptied the 89th and final condom, and someone pushed it into the Medusa-nest of mangled, used prophylactics already protruding from her pussy and asshole.

They had her model herself in a variety of positions like this, as people wanted to get plenty of pictures of her condom-stuffed holes. It was a perfect visual representation of her filthiness.

Meanwhile guys had been continuing to jack off into the huge margarita glass. It's quite remarkable how much cum a couple hundred horny men can produce, especially when many of them came more than once. The glass was over three quarters full again, easily a liter and a half of cum or more.

"Decent job emptying those, ," the now one of many guys, named Kevin said. "But you'd better finish off the rest of this cum these nice men made for you, too."

Steve rubbed the swollen glans on his dick with a thumb as the camera zoomed in on this massive goblet of mixed cum. There was no telling how many dudes had shot their loads in it at this point, but it was without doubt at least 200 more full loads of jizz. It was nearly impossible to imagine a single person managing to force themselves to consume all of it, let alone in a single sitting...let alone after all the cum Kattie had already eaten, gargled, and been otherwise inundated with in the last two nights. Steve knew under any normal circumstances the contents of the glass would look disgusting - cum in 100 different shades of white, or gray or off-white, even yellow - mingling all together in varying levels of viscosity, chunky here, watery there, coating the sides of the glass in mottled washes of ball-phlegm. But knowing that once-innocent Kattie was about to have to empty every last drop of that foul concoction into her stomach made Steve's lions stir with unrelenting sadistic passion. That millions would witness her latest debasement fueled his lust ten-fold.

Kattie was staring at the congealing mess sloshing around in the huge glass with a dull, queasy look on her face. She appeared slightly yellow. He could tell her stomach was already full, her disgust-suppression near its limit, and her nausea peaking. The knots of used condoms were still bulging from her cunt and anus.

"Every drop," Kevin said.

They handed the goblet to Kattie, who took it in both hands, studied it in silence for several seconds, and then slowly raised it to her face. As soon as her lips touched the rim and she smelled the combined aroma of 200+ loads mingling together an inch from her nose, knowing it would all be going down her throat soon, she suddenly pulled away, one balled fist covering her mouth as she desperately fought the urge to vomit all over the floor.

"I can't," she gasped meekly.

"You can," Kevin said. "And you will, unless you want this experience to get much worse for you. Tell you what. We'll make a deal. If you can get through this whole glass of cum in the next half hour or so, swallowing every drop, and then licking the walls of the glass clean until nothing is left but your saliva, this whole party will be over. I'll send everyone home, and you can leave. You can vomit, but then you better lick that vomit back up too, like a dog. One way or another, every bit of that cum has to get into your belly. If you don't drink it all, we will drive you to the worst ghetto in the Boston area, tie you spread-eagle on a mattress and leave you inside the scariest project that even the police won't visit, and advertise all around the neighborhood that there's free white pussy in Unit 12093. You'll be taking bare thug dick for the next week, and probably end up as one of their prostitutes after that. But finish this glass in the next half hour, and this episode will be over. You can run away from all of us. I promise."

Kattie shut her eyes and exhaled for a long time, steeling herself. She knew the threat was real. She had no choice but to do this.

Her eyes still closed, and evidently trying not to breathe through her nose, she raised the glass up and quickly took a long gulp, trying to get as much down her throat as she could before the gag reflex kicked in. Suddenly she choked, eyes still clamped shut. She kept her lips sealed tight to try to keep from retching the cum out, but she coughed hard, sending two long twin streams of jizz out of her nostrils. Everyone laughed as they dangled and wobbled down to nearly her tits. Kattie quickly grabbed the strings and licked them off of her hand.

Someone gave her some more cocaine, and some other mystery powder. She took them right away. Anything to get through this easier.

Slowly, one forced gulp at a time, the contents of the glass lowered. Nearly each time Kattie had to fight back the rising bile in her throat. Twice she vomited on the floor, but the contents of her stomach was nearly entirely cum anyway, and she had to get down with her face to the floor and lick back up every bit she'd hurled up. Still the tangled wads of used condoms filled and protruded from her holes. Steve edged the whole time he watched. Had anyone in history ever allowed themselves to be demeaned and debased more than Kattie had?

After about twenty five minutes she was to the bottom third of the glass. She was now half-retching every time she brought it up to her lips again. Her eyes were red and burning, her face covered in cum from where she'd had to lick it off the floor.

"Better hurry up Kattie," Kevin said. "You've only got a few minutes left. It's best you get used to eating cum in this volume, anyway. You might be living as a sex slave with someone sooner than later, only allowed to live off of cum that your fans send in the mail for you."

She looked at him with hatred as a slug of cum slipped out of her mouth and dribbled down to her chin. She caught it with a finger and brought it back up and sucked it into her lips.

She tilted the glass back, her throat working to swallow over and over. "Chug, chug, chug!" the crowd yelled out mockingly. Phones were right up in her face, capturing her shame and struggle up close. Finally she finished the glass and sat gasping for air, holding a hand over her mouth. Then, knowing what was expected, she picked the glass up once more and licked every surface of it, making sure that no cum whatsoever was left. The cameras caught her pink tongue pressing against the glass, her tastebuds mingling with the white streaks of jizz and the clearer bubbles of her own spit.

She collapsed to the floor, the room spinning. The crowd applauded her performance. Kevin stood over her where she lay breathing hard.

"Good job," he said. "Well, I guess let's wrap up here, then. You can hit the streets soon, like I promised. But first some pictures. We need some good before and afters."

People had evidently taken photos of Kattie right as she'd walked into the suite when this all started, when she was dressed up nice. The pictures captured looking elegant, but with a look of confusion as she saw the crowd awaiting her, the full implication having not yet dawned on her. Now they were going to get pictures of her after her lengthy violation, presumably to juxtapose next to the classy pictures. Before and after 232 dicks.

Kattie's eyes were red, her pupils massive from the various drugs she was on. Her hair was wild and mottled everywhere with semen, some dry, some still wet. She was still covered in sweat and patches of dried cum all over her skin too. Her holes were ringed with redness from over-usage, both still bulging with condoms. Her makeup had long since been fucked away. Steve had never seen any woman look so ravished.

Someone carefully extracted ten condoms from her holes and placed each one over a different toe on Katties' feet. She spread her long, white legs wide in this ridiculous fashion, allowing them to photograph her.

In her normal pictures, her everyday attire, Kattie looked like the quintessential 1950s, wholesome American wife. A model from that time. Demure and elegant and perfectly respectable. This was, of course, why seeing her reduced to the most disgraced cumdumpster imaginable was so incredible. These kind of girls shouldn't reach 1/100th of the filth that Kattie was mired in.

Steve alone knew the full truth of her situation. He couldn't believe the extent of it all, how far it had gone. Kattie had, unwittingly, played her role perfectly. No one in that room doubted that she was a reluctant slut who had made a major mistake, but brought it upon herself. That she had wanted to play a dangerous little game to satisfy her secret kink, but had had it spiral way out of her control. That her kink had accidentally become her entire life; that she now lived a life of regret, yet was still unable to help but get soaking wet in masochistic pleasure every time a stranger demanded she get on his dick, as would keep happening for the rest of her life.

He felt guilty about it sometimes, but not usually. It just made him too horny to stay guilty for long. It helped that he was confident the truth would never be linked back to him. He told himself that he had just fulfilled her destiny for her. It obviously suited her. It was amazingly hot knowing this was a girl who would have been proper and normal if not for him. He made her become this. Changed her life. Her sole role in this one life she gets to live was to be a total now. Look at her, those long, slender legs spread akimbo for the world, a nest of filthy condoms bulging from her two most sacred places on her body. He reduced her to this. She was proud once.

When they were done snapping all the pictures they wanted, they told her to dress and get ready to leave. Of course, the only clothes for her to wear were those left behind by the . Stumbling around in dizziness, covered in cum, Kattie got to her feet and then awkwardly stepped into the 's thong, then the torn fishnet stockings that her toes poked through at the ends, then the tiny shorts that were cut so high her entire asscheeks were hanging out. The widecut blouse that couldn't even fully cover both of her nipples at the same time. Finally the ridiculously tall high heeled boots, that several guys had jerked off in just a few moments before, filling the toe of both boots with shallow pools of cum. Kattie felt it squishing between and around her toes and she pulled her feet all the way in.

Some girl pulled a stick of bright red lipstick from her purse and sloppily smeared it around Kattie's lips, then did the same with too much black mascara around her eyes. With her wild, cum-matted hair, the cum both dried and wet everywhere else on her skin, the wild, worn-out look in her eyes, the makeup and the outfit, Kattie looked like absolute hot trash. Someone pulled out a sharpie and wrote more filth on the visible portions of her skin. "Kattie Ann Duval - oops, I'm a again!" across her tits. "FREE BLOWJOBS" on her forehead, "Pussy and asshole, $1 each" on her exposed back. "Cum " on both of her arms.

"Well," Kevin said, smiling. "We're done with you, as promised. But now it's time for you to hit the streets."

Some people, the casuals, headed out at this point, but a medium-sized entourage, as well as the camera man, followed Kattie as she walked out of the suite in a daze, into the elevator, and down to the street. It was so late it was almost early. People looked at them in confusion as they passed, their looks turning to disgust when they saw Kattie. They all quickly tried to look away.

Kevin tried to keep the posse back a fair distance from her. He'd promised they wouldn't bother her now. He hailed two taxis that were both waiting on the curb for passengers. He placed Kattie in the first one, shut the door behind her, and then leaned in the driver's window and told him where to go, handing him a handful of cash. Kevin, the cameraman, and a couple others got in the next cab. The small crowd watched dejectedly as the two taxis went away.

They arrived at the place Kevin had told them to go after 20 minutes or so, the second taxi tailing the first. They saw Kattie stumble out of hers and begin wobbling down the sidewalk uncertainly. The final rounds of drugs and alcohol that had been put into her body in the last hour or so seemed to be kicking in with force now. She was stumbling all over the sidewalk, extremely unstable in the heels. More than once she fell. She seemed to not even know fully what she was doing or where she was going, just that she was walking away. The guys followed from a distance.

Of course it wasn't long until she had wandered into the party areas of town, and then to the seedy sides of the party areas. All by design. Just where Kevin had wanted her to end up. They kept their distance from her, and it didn't seem that she even knew they were there. Heads turned everywhere she went. People laughed, drunk people hollered at her, girls looked at her in disgust. More than once group of drunks posed for a picture with her.

Eventually drunk guys were openly groping her exposed asscheeks, or copping a quick feel of her tits. As the night went on and the bars began to close, and the further she got from the busier streets, the more things escalated.

By 5:30 AM they were watching her suck cock in a back alley, having just serviced about nine guys in a row with her mouth. A half hour later they had her bent over a trashcan, one drunken guy after another going bareback in her snatch. They'd had to pull out the wad of condoms first, but this had only amused them. Some guys followed the writing on her back and stuffed a dollar bill into her stockings. Word of mouth spread, and soon a bit of a line had formed to stuff her nasty, newly leaking, cummed-out cunt. She just took cock after cock with a glazed look in her eyes.

By the time the police arrived her total number had been brought to 560. The guys scattered and the camera filmed from around a corner as Kattie was handcuffed and placed in the back of the cop car. You could just hear one of the cops informing Kattie of her arrest being "for ."

They panned in on her face through the glass as the car drove off, looking out in a confused daze, "FREE BLOWJOBS" still written on her forehead.

Kevin turned to have the camera face him.

"Thanks for tuning in everyone, and helping to put Kattie back in her place. Don't feel bad for her. She's getting everything her heart has truly desired ever since she was old enough to feel lust. If you didn't get a chance to fuck her this weekend - you will in the future. And who knows, if some enterprising fan can afford her bail, maybe you can earn yourself a very fun new housepet. Just be sure to keep sharing her with all of us."

(Thanks for reading guys. Over 5000 read the last installment. Since there was only like 3 comments, I must assume that most don't like where this is heading. I guess we should just end it with Kattie sitting in jail. Someone told me to keep my depraved thoughts to myself. He may be right.)

Kattie's New Life Begins Chapter 7
Posted:May 25, 2024 1:29 pm
Last Updated:May 28, 2024 12:15 pm
{Kattie's journey begins with her abduction series. Best read it first.}

"I hope I can't get kicked off Snapchat for this," Cassandra said, laughing as she pointed her camera right at the spectacle before her.

Guys stood jacking off, positioned to get a good view of her bulging rectum. One guy came forward and ran his hand up her inner thigh, collecting the pussy juice and cum that was smeared there, and then did the same from her cunt. With both sides of his hand slathered in this natural lube, he brought his fingertips together and pressed them against the rosebud coming from between Kattie's asscheeks.

She mentally braced herself for what she knew was coming, trying to completely loosen her bowels and sphincter. She knew none of these guys had any interest in being gentle with her.

Sure enough, the guy's hand steadily entered her ass about as quickly as he could get it in. She let out an involuntary cry of dismay as her asshole clenched tight around his wrist, and she felt him ball his hand up into a fist inside of her.

"I want to see this thing really pop out," he said, and with that began forcing his forearm deep into her splayed ass, pulling it out only far enough to give himself momentum for the next, deeper thrust.

He kept at it for several tortuous minutes, the longest of Kattie's life. She felt like she was being completely split in half. His forearm was buried to maybe half of its length up her ass. Her battered, failing sphincter hugged his skin like a fleshy piston as he thrust in and out of her.

Men stood around jacking off, leering and calling her derisive names.

"Hopefully you don't ruin her turdcutter! She might not be able to shit properly after this!"

"I want to put my hand in the puppet next!" someone said.

Sure enough, once the first man had had his fill, he removed his arm from her bowels only for his spot to be taken by another man moments later, someone obviously unwilling to pass up an opportunity to put their whole arm in a girl. She didn't even have time to appreciate the immense feeling of relief when the huge foreign object divested itself from her. Another replaced it immediately. She really did wonder if they were doing permanent damage to her asshole.

But there was nothing to be done but take it. She stayed there on all fours, her ass raised up and her head resting on the ground, as three more men fisted her ass for the next half hour. The last was an older man she knew she recognized from Long Beach, but she couldn't quite remember in her current state, how she had known him. Whoever he was, he obviously knew that was he was doing was fucked up, because his face was flushed red and he seemed to be shaking slightly. He was pantless, and his brown, slightly curved and mushroom-headed dick was already as hard as could be, bobbing up and down as he settled into place behind her rear, trembling with excitement.

His thick fingers ventured into her primed open asshole first, followed quickly by his hairy knuckles and then the rest of his hand, and soon he was halfway up his forearm in colon. He and Kattie both let out moans at the same time, hers in dismay, his in pleasure and disbelief.

With her head on the ground, Kattie could look back underneath herself and see his turgid cock nearly bursting, a long bead of pre-cum dangling from it. He slowly pumped his arm in and out of her, and soon she felt him carefully opening his fist inside of her, curling his fingers out so that they lay flat and he could actually feel her inner walls.

After a couple minutes of this, she saw his left hand float up and then felt it exploring the entrance to her empty cunt. Humiliation always caused her body to provide such a steady and plentiful source of pussy cream that he had no issues getting his other hand in her spare hole, and now she moaned like a cat in heat on the ground as some half-remembered authority figure from her childhood filled every cavity in her lower body to the complete extent of its breaking point. One hand up her ass, the other up her cunt. She had felt similar insertions before, but she could never remember how truly enormous the feeling was until it was happening. She felt as if her whole body was being ripped open. Looking back at him from beneath herself, she could see his cock springing at complete hardness, the long drip of pre-cum swinging back and forth.

"Oh you've become such a bad girl, Kattie," he said to her in a ragged, shuddering voice. He pushed and pulled his hands back and forth inside of her stretched holes. "Filthy, filthy fucking ."

Suddenly she remembered who he was. He had been her doctor for a short time, her general practitioner just after changing from her pediatrician. She'd seen him for a couple of years as a young . Her mother mader her change again as she thought he was a little creepy. Her mother said he had no need to do breast exams on every visit. She could not focus on this humiliation though.

After a few minutes of her mind being destroyed by the overwhelming feelings between her legs, the doctor gave a rough moan and, hands still inside of her, began to cum hands free beneath her. She just had time to see the first surge of milky white cum swell out of his tip before the second , stronger spurt roped all the way up and struck her in the eye as she looked. She instinctively licked the salty cum from the parts of her face that her tongue could reach.

The doctor carefully removed his hands from her pillaged holes, leaving two gaping messes. She heard Kevin's voice, close to her ear.

"Now let's see if you can do a better job. Push your fucking nasty holes out as hard as you can, like your life depends on it. Hold nothing back. If you don't do a good enough job we'll have no choice but to loosen them up again. Now shove your rectum inside out for the world to see."

Kattie pushed. From behind, they saw her round, full ass quiver above those long, slender colt legs. Her thighs still so thin they didn't touch when her knees were together. The ass almost seeming outsized compared to them. And then she bore down again, the tendons flexing in her calves, the soles of her feet straining taut where her toes gripped the wood underneath. Her whole pelvic floor jutted forward, all being pushed out in one generalized thrust. Her asshole prolapsed out, her anal flower billowing out now like a great blooming red rose. Kattie heard a chorus of digital camera shutters behind her as a dozen smartphones snapped pictures of her hideous spectacle. Someone had cast the livestream to one of the TVs, and Kattie watched the depravity that everyone else was seeing in real time. A milky pearl of semen protruded out and rolled down her bulged out asshole, emerging from somewhere deep in her colon along with general ass mucus. She had never seen something so obscene in her life. She couldn't believe this was her. Her face was beat red, and she could feel every beat of her heart reverberating through her face. She knew her shame was plain for all to see.

"EWWW!" one of the bitches from work on the couch was saying, while laughing.

Finally Kattie could push no longer, and she collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, winded from the exertion. Her anus returned to a more normal position, but both of her holes were still wincing and rippling open somewhat.

Suddenly she was being flipped over onto her back, and her legs were being held apart wide at the knees. She was being held open as spread-eagle as possible, her battered cunt pointing straight at her coworkers, who before this night had only known her as she demure, somewhat awkward cute girl who kept to herself. Well there was nothing she could keep to herself now. Here was everything you could ever see about a person, on display for them and the world.

Some greased fist entered her cunt, suddenly and without warning. She let out a scream, tears streaming down her face from pain and ultra-humiliation, as they pumped it in her a few times as deep as they could get it, basically punching her cervix, and then just as suddenly pulled it out, quickly, with a loud wet plop. Kattie let out a loud cry of dismay, and instinctively tried to bring her legs together to protect her exposed birth canal, only to have the fist ram back into her while other guys held her knees open wide in iron grips. The guy pistoned his fist hard, in rapid bursts, her cunt making wet squishing noises around his wrist. Her torso shuddered back and forth from the inertia of his thrusts, along with the sudden sobs she was now racked with. He pulled his fist out again in a sudden jerk, and this time her pussy released an arcing jet of squirt to follow it.

The guy rubbed his hand rapidly back and forth over her soaked labia and clit, sending a spray of girl-cum flying in all directions as her pussy continued to emit pure liquid arousal.

Now he was going to fit a second hand in her, god damn him, and there was nothing Kattie could do to stop him. His hands were pressed, palms together, as he inserted his first few inches of fingers into her. She braced for it. She knew he was going to do it no matter how much resistance her pussy put up.

He pushed forward, and Kattie felt her body open as wide as she had ever felt it. The feeling was enormous; she couldn't even make a cry of pain come out. Her mouth was just frozen open in a look of silent shock. A man had both of his fists inside of her cunt at once. It didn't seem possible, but there she was looking down at it. His entire hands had disappeared inside of her. He was nearly halfway up his forearms in her. He kept pumping his fists back and forth inside of her, bottoming out, completely flushing her out. Every inch of her inner sanctum stretched to fit him. It seemed her body would do anything at all to accommodate a man's wishes. Her mind couldn't even really wrap itself around the sensation. It was too much to process. Her head flopped backward and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, a bead of drool running out of the corner of her open mouth and down her cheek. The sounds of her abused pussy squishing loudly with each thrust filled the room as the onlookers watched in thrilled, sadistic focus.


In Long Beach, Steve sat watching Kattie's latest ordeal from the livestream, just one of over 500,000 people currently doing so. He continued to live in complete disbelief of how wildly successful his original plot had been back then, over two and a half years ago. Perhaps too successful. He had never imagined it would lead to all this.

He had been the one to set all this in motion, the one who set her up for the forced gangbang with no way out, the one who had forced her from her old life of being a normal young adult to the trajectory she was currently on, a life doomed to sucking and fucking endless cock, with no exit possible, everyone she'd ever known having a front row seat to her humiliation, if they wanted it. Somehow nearly every avenue for her to ever return to a normal life seemed blocked. He smiled as he realized that the cards had fallen just right.

He'd followed her journey closely over the last two and a half years, amazed and thrilled that communities on the Internet had latched onto her the way they had, making it easy to cyber stalk her. No one knew of his involvement, of course. He had played it dumb at work when everyone discussed the shocking thing their vanished coworker Kattie had done, in hushed tones. He expressed disbelief and a hint of disgust, just like the rest of them.

Did he feel guilty? Of course, if he thought about it. What he'd done was terrible. He'd thought that his plot would maybe lead to her getting nc fucked by a few guys, on camera, and he'd get to jerk off to the footage and have the sadistic satisfaction of knowing Kattie had not actually wanted any of it. That she'd have to live the rest of her life knowing footage of her getting gangfucked always existed somewhere on the Internet. He had never imagined that it would snowball in the way it had.

Of course, although he sometimes felt justified guilt, it usually just made him incredibly horny. Seeing the full extent of her exposure and destruction, knowing she had not consented to any of it, was enough to make him cum in seconds. If he went to hell, at least he'd achieved the ultimate dark sexual thrill.

He watched every moment of her latest gangbang. Gangbang wasn't even a strong enough word. He watched as the guy double fisted her pussy, watched as her head lolled back and she seemed to completely lose her mind in the pain and humiliation. He watched as one, two, nine guys in total followed after the first guy, each of them pushing both fists into her simultaneously, each successive person doing it with greater ease than the one before him, as they stretched out and reshaped the straining but elastic walls of her cunt. The fact that her legs were as long and slender as they were only made the spectacle more obscene - the hole between those legs seemed too wide, too open now to naturally belong in the narrow space between them.

For 45 minutes the nine different pairs of fists took turns ruining that once-beautiful pussy. When they were done one of the girls on the couch, deeply drunk by now, kicked off her right high heel at the urging of the guys she was with, and with an amused but revolted squeal shoved her bare foot into Kattie's open cunt, toes first.

"I hope my foot can't catch an STD!" she yelled. She sank it in until just the very back of her heel was sticking out. She shoved it in and out, ramming her toes into Kattie's cervix with rapid little kicks, seeming to do so with more than a bit of cruelty and loathing. Kattie was still completely outside of herself, head still lolling back. She looked up when the girl finally pulled her foot out of her, with a sudden wet plop. Kattie issued an arc of squirt after the exit of the foot.

Now the girl was rubbing the sole of her other foot, the one with the shoe still on it, all over the outside of Kattie's cunt, smearing the dirty rubber in between her sensitive labia. The other girl's did the same, all stepping directly on the leaking, slightly gaping meathole on the floor with their dirty shoes, smashing her clit. Kattie's eyes rolled back in her head again, and he just issued squirt after squirt.

"Push your cunt out for us, Garden!" the drunk girls shouted at her, perhaps derisively using the fake name she had gone by with them. Kattie reflexively obeyed, straining down on her pelvic floor just as she'd done before with her ass. Her ragged pussy, with its pink, ringed and ridged interior, actually inverted and splayed out like a flower for them from between her legs.

"Aww, it's blossoming!" one of the squealed. "That's right! Push your pussy flower out for us! Show us your garden, Garden!"

More clear, hot girl cum drizzled out of her prolapsing cunt and slid down her asscrack. Camera flash after camera flash went off as the room full of strangers, acquaintances, old friends, watched her utterly debase herself yet again, her face sweating and bright red with shame, tear streak running down her face. He had down all this to her. She should have lived a normal life. But now she was this.

Eventually they let her stop inverting herself for them and recover a little bit. Of course they were going to fuck her more. After a bit the next new partners got in her, burying themselves in her worn-out guts, commenting on how loose she felt now. It didn't seem to bother anyone, for the succession of guys ready to lay between her legs and fuck her slopped-up meatholes proceeded in earnest. In fact, a physiological metaphor for the looseness of her perceived morals, her worth, may have increased the lowly pleasure many of them derived from the act.

By 2 AM of this second night she had already reached her 500th lifetime sexual partner. As the guy - a skinny, pockmark-faced, druggy-looking character - buried his bare, grody dick in her cunt, the room erupted in condescending cheers, congratulating Kattie on having fucked half a thousand people in her life. She looked up in a daze, almost out of it. Steve wasn't sure she fully comprehended what they were saying.

"That's 198 new guys you've fucked in the last...26 hours? What a perfect little fucking slut! Ahead of schedule! Let's get your numbers even higher!"

Steve watched as this odyssey of shame and degradation that he had started, this level of exploitation and ruin of a single woman that was likely without close comparison in the history of civilized people, continued. His heart raced with a dark thrill as he contemplated the extent of her fate.

The carousel of flesh continued, each partner someone completely new to Kattie's holes, another number added to that irreversible tally, the quantification of her impressive promiscuity. For another two hours it was just uninterrupted fucking - often two guys at once, and more hanging on her peripheries. By 4 AM she was at 534. Every inch of her body was covered in human filth - her own and that of others. Sweat, cum both dry and wet, saliva, all from untold numbers of strangers, mixed with her own vaginal lubrication and cream from her ovulation to cover every bit of her skin. Some guy squatted above her head and was holding his asscheeks apart, rubbing his asshole into her forehead while his large erection bobbed over her face. She seemed not to even notice him, instead looking down at the bare dick pummeling her cunt. She looked lost in a trance of fornication. Every orifice of her body bloomed with evidence of the extraordinary sexual effort she had displayed for all these men for all these hours.

[Alt denied the long version of Ch7. i've just reposted half of it to see if the problem is within this half.]
Kattie's New Life Begins Chapter 6
Posted:May 18, 2024 12:21 pm
Last Updated:May 28, 2024 12:17 pm
Carl Duval, 56, peeked around the arch into his living room one more time as he returned to his bedroom, even though he knew he was alone. His wife worked overnight at the hospital, and wouldn't be home for hours. Still, he always had to compulsively check, over and over, during these sessions. Sessions that were, to his shame, becoming more and more frequent. It gave him enormous guilt and disgust at himself, but he couldn't help it. Ever since he'd given in to that first dark impulse to look, the compulsion had only grown stronger with time.

He sat back down at his computer and turned the monitor back on. He pulled the window back up. There she was, his , taking more strange dick in some hotel in Boston, on an HD livestream. The blood instantly surged back into his penis, hardening him quickly and fully as this always did. Some guy was fucking her while shw was on her hands and knees, her legs spread so the camera could see all the action.

A thick, white lather of her own cream had been seeping out of her pussy for the last couple guys, coating her whole groin, the bottoms of her asscheeks, and her inner thighs halfway to her knees. It was also covering the guy's dick and ballsack, but he didn't even seem to care.
A second guy approached and slid under her belly, sliding his legs between her knees as he positioned his cock right under the one sliding in and out of her pussy. He rubbed his cock all over her gooey mess, and then used this goop to easily join the other cock already in her pussy, sliding in and double stuffing her cunt with ease. He didn't last long. Within a minute he'd pulled out and shot his load onto the mess of girl cum and semen already layered thick over her labia. He was soon replaced by another guy.

Carl's precious , being treated worse than the lowest .

Carl would, of course, kill himself if anyone ever found out he watched this stuff. What a failure of a father he was. First, for raising the type of that would allow herself, even reluctantly, to reach the depths of depravity she had. Second, for allowing himself to give into the sick taboo of pleasuring himself to her shame and exploitation. Already he had cum twice today while watching this horrific display, and he knew he would do so at least a third time. He always felt intense self-loathing even as he began ejaculating, but within a couple minutes would find himself drawn right back to it.

He and Kattie's mother had already moved due to the shame their brought upon them. He was just grateful he no longer lived in Long Beach. Everyone in their community knew. All the males probably watched the footage, if not joined directly in the spectacle. Even here in Atlanta most of his friends and coworkers had heard about "the thing with Carl's ," but at least they hadn't ever personally known her. They of course had the sense to never bring it up to him.

But still, they knew. Some of them were probably watching this alongside him right now. It sickened him, it infuriated him, but it turned him on like nothing in his life ever had before. He didn't know why. He'd always been a normal father, he thought. He'd loved his and treated her well and never had any kind of inappropriate thoughts about her. He'd been a normal man, up until the thing happened. Up until the world had decided to make his its great public .

He'd managed to avoid looking at the footage for months after it first happened. He'd had the normal reaction of despair, disgust, disappointment, and anger. He had fallen into a depression. His , through her actions was basically dead to him. He couldn't look people in the eye.

Then he'd had to return to Long Beach for his 's highschool graduation. It had been like attending a funeral. People seemed to try to avoid making eye contact with him, acting like they hadn't noticed him. No one wanted to try to make small talk like that, not with the huge elephant in the room. It had been a nightmare. Then, as he'd gone to the restroom at the venue, he saw a piece of paper taped up on the wall in the stall. It was a picture of Kattie's face, covered in cum, her driver's license stuck to her forehead. Under it the words: "Kattie Duval, JHS alumni." Below this there was a URL.

Carl had ripped it down and thrown it away, but the URL was simple, and he hadn't been able to forget it. KATTIEWEBS.LUT. He tried not to think about it, but the URL kept popping up in his head, accompanied by that incredibly explicit and degrading photo of his . He managed to stave off his curiosity for a week after returning to Atlanta, but finally, when he had a day off to himself, alone, he caved.

That one site led him down a rabbit hole into the amazingly widespread network of sites dedicated to humiliating, documenting, and degrading his . He was baffled at how many creeps were invested in her story. Forums, message boards. He explored all of them for months, unable to help himself. At first he told himself that he was somehow doing research, trying to help his , but it became increasingly impossible to convince himself that it didn't just turn him on. Seeing his baby girl turned out, exploited, made into an international slut sensation.

Spurred on by the incredible taboo of it, he became obsessed. Anytime he had alone time, he was trawling the forums, the sites, following every morsel of news about her. He'd seen all the videos, all the pictures, every inch of his 's body, even the insides of the good parts, in shocking detail. He had seen entire forum threads dedicated to discussing the details of her anus, and other equally specific topics (he'd come to learn that his 's sphincter had 36 wrinkles and ridges around its circumference, including one larger, more prominent fold on the side closest to her taint).

He'd soon consumed every bit of Kattie content on the web, and eagerly waited for more, always disgusted with himself for doing so. He watched as people auctioned off items taken from her apartment, selling the most mundane of her personal belongings. Her used panties went for the most, usually. The prized object though was her whole scalp's worth of dyed red hair that had been shaved off and taken from her during her first gangbang. Someone had taken it and stored it in a vacuum-sealed bag, and some other guy ended up buying it for over $2,000. Carl could only imagine what he intended to do with it.

And so his greatest shame in life, the complete and public sexual depravity of his , became his darkest thrill. The first time he allowed himself to finally masturbate to one of the videos, he was baffled by how satisfying and explosive his orgasm was. He hadn't cum like that in years. Seeing his , his proper, somewhat shy , a girl who'd always been too timid to even wear a bikini in public, outed like was too much to handle. Of course he was completely horrified at himself as soon as he ejaculated. But it had been too good. He was hooked.

It dominated his thoughts. Whenever he fucked his wife he couldn't help but pretend that she was Kattie, that he was the 80th guy in line to bust in her sloppy cunt in the back room of some bar. In his private sessions when he was alone, at his horniest, he would concoct crazy ideas of actually traveling to wherever she was and actually joining in the next time she was roped into one of these crazy orgies. He could wear a mask, she would never have to know it was him. When this Kevin asshole was announcing his plans for the current event in Boston, Carl had very briefly considered traveling up there, under the guise of traveling for work, and participating. As soon as he jerked off though, he immediately threw the idea away. It was too risky, not to mention heinous. He knew what he should really do is contact his and warn her about what this guy was planning. But he couldn't, something just kept him from taking any action.

So he watched with everyone else. He couldn't believe that assholes like Mr. Eckersley and Mr. Black openly participated in this, barely even trying to conceal who they were. He had vague memories of how much Kattie hated them as teachers back in high school. And now look what they were doing to her.

Every day when he checked his email there were a handful of new messages from anonymous internet people, taunting him with images of his gargling a mouthful of cum, or getting triple penetrated, or smiling shell-shocked at the camera while a speculum forced apart the walls of her inner vagina, revealing her cervix. It hadn't really taken them too long to find his info. They were usually accompanied with messages like "Proud of your , Mr. Duval??" Little did they know these pictures and taunts only served to deepen his sick fascination and thrill. He often thought of closing his old email.. but he just couldn't. What if he missed something that could be helpful to Kattie?

He had failed to protect his . Failed to protect her from...whatever this was. From herself, perhaps. Or whoever pressured her to become like this. He couldn't believe she had chosen this path totally of her own free will. He'd seen her initial application to the gangbang service, but even that had seemed strange. Something about it had And of course the ongoing events were strange, regardless of her well-known public declarations of herself as an eternal cocksleeve. It didn't all really add up.

But it didn't really matter now. She was utterly ruined. How could he even bring himself to look her in the eyes again, if ever they met? Knowing that she knew he knew about it all. Probably wondering in the back of her mind if he'd ever seen any of the footage. Hopefully never guessing how familiar he was with all of it.

He watched his take the 400th dick of her life, then the 401st. Was there a more colossal way to fail as a father? It was every father's worst nightmare come true.

So why couldn't he stop cumming over it?

He watched dick 406 vacate Kattie's ass, then watched her fart out a thick pearl of cum. Her slick holes looked so broken in, so easy and inviting. He imagined for the millionth time how satisfying it would be to fill them.

In another tab he pulled up the forum comments again, looking at the stuff Kattie's online fans had to say about this escapade. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to their girl since she first gained her notoriety. Hundreds of comments, still pouring in, discussing his and her body in the most vile ways. Why did he get such excitement from these comments? Why did he frequently join them?

"Don't let the forget about all the filled condoms in the fridge," he saw himself type. "She still has to empty every one of those into her mouth for us." Even as he clicked to submit the comment he hated himself for writing it.

He had seen his girl subjected to the worst sexual exploits imaginable. Seen her face covered in semen until she was unrecognizable, seen her drinks pints of strangers' piss, seen collages of her at her highschool graduation juxtaposed next to an image of her birth canal being gaped open, the views in the millions. He had seen her reduced to nothing, and then it had all seemed to stop, not fade away so much, but nothing new for quite a while. He hoped that her dignity and hope for a future was slowly restored. Maybe, just maybe she had outrun it. But then after months, a new episode sprang up and was instantly viral. Just when he (and she) thought she had overcome her terrible mistake. Why was her helplessness and exploitation so electrifying to him, at the same time that it angered and horrified him?

All he could do was turn the anger into this warped lust. If I can't help her or undo any of this, then I should get to enjoy her too. He knew the logic was messed up. But he didn't make the effort to sort through it. He didn't want to give it up.

Eventually they seemed to be taking a break, giving Kattie a chance to rest. Carl ejaculated one more time to the sight of his laying on her back panting, covered in sweat and cum, exhausted from taking dick in every opening of her body. He exited out of everything and shut the computer down. His wife would be home before things started back up. He hated that he wouldn't be able to watch the rest of the party live, but he knew all the footage would be recorded and widely available afterward. He knew he'd watch every second of it later.

He always did.


In her dream, Kattie was lying on the altar at her own wedding, her white dress hiked up around her waist, while one of the groomsmen lay between her legs, fucking her in front of all of the guests who watched from their seats. The other groomsmen were standing in line behind him, waiting. Her parents watched with disapproval from the crowd, along with the rest of her family and her old friends. Kevin looked on from behind the altar, a bashful grin on his face.

"Don't worry," Kevin told the congregation. "You'll all get a turn after them." The groomsman inside of her kept thrusting, shaking her whole body. She halfway realized she was dreaming. But the sex felt so real.

She opened her eyes with an effort. Some sweaty stranger was on top of her in the hotel bed, looking down at her and panting, and she suddenly realized that the fucking actually was real. He'd obviously been going at it for some time, because within seconds of her opening her eyes he began raggedly moaning, and then she felt his hot seed filling her up.

He pulled out and rolled off of her just as Kevin appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, leave her alone for now," he said. "There will be plenty of time for that later."

Kattie kept laying there for a bit. The full reality of her present situation began to wash over her again. She couldn't believe she was so used to being fucked that it hadn't even woken her for a while. She wondered if he was the only guy who had fucked her while she slept.

She felt bad, but not as hungover as she might have expected. She looked at the clock. It was nearly 3 pm. She'd at least managed to sleep for several hours. She felt between her legs and slowly pulled out a big dildo that had evidently been up her ass the whole time she'd slept. She didn't even remember it getting placed up there. Then again, she had several gaps in her memory from the night before.

She had to piss badly. She quickly rolled out of bed and went into the adjacent bathroom before anyone saw that she was up. She didn't want them to get the idea to make her chug her own piss or something. She sat down on the toilet and unleashed her bladder, the streaming hitting the water loudly.

One of the camera guys walked in while she was still on the toiler, grinning. The camera was hoisted on his shoulder and pointing at her. She suddenly wished she'd taken the time to lock the door. A couple other dudes stood in the doorway behind him, all of them leering at her as she sat completely naked on the toilet.

"Our star is awake," the camera guy said. "How are you feeling?"

Kattie just kept staring at the wall in front of her. Her tousled hair hung in front of her face.

"Just let me piss in peace," she said flatly.

"Mmmm," the camera guy said. "I think we both know you don't get privacy anymore. Watch her wipe her pussy everyone." He zoomed in between her legs as Kattie ran a piece of toilet paper up her labia. Christ she was sore.

"Do you know how many guys you fucked last night?" the guy continued.

"I don't know anything," Kattie snapped. "I just woke up. Please just give me a second."

"127," he said. "That's more than 99% of even the sluttiest girls around ever fuck in their whole lives. And you did it in one night. Are you proud?"

Kattie didn't say anything. She flushed the toilet and stood up and washed her hands, ignoring the camera and the gawkers. Her body was covered in splotches of dried, flaking semen all over, including great clumps of it matting in her dirty blonde hair.

She turned on the water for the shower. "Bring me something for my hangover," she told them.

She got in and felt the hot water hit her skin. Someone returned with a bottle of water and a large shot of liquor.

"Hair of the dog," he said. "Best way to get rid of the hangover."

Kattie took the shot and paused, steeling herself. She tossed it back and then grimaced, fighting the nausea that briefly rose up. Then she started chugging the water.

She showered and then emerged into the common area again, wrapped in the towel. A small chorus of greetings rose up from the guys still present, at least 20 or so. She knew there would be more arriving later. This was supposed to be a weekend-long pussy party for them.

She sat down at the table in the dining area, still wrapped in the towel. It was the only form of covering available to her, aside from the scant pile of street-walker wear that had been left for her. Someone had had breakfast brought up, and she attempted to eat some of it. She didn't have much of an appetite, especially not with all these guys surrounding and gawking her, but she knew she needed to eat. She managed to eat a banana, trying to ignore the strangers watching her and the weird, nervous energy that was in the room. She wondered if any of them felt awkward now, in the light of the day. If any of them thought of what they were doing as nc sex. She couldn't help but feel ashamed herself, too, though.

They made awkward small talk with her, some of them. Telling her how long they'd been fans, as if this should impress her. She only nodded a little in response, barely even looking at them. She had already been a shy, awkward person in life before all this. Sitting here naked in the cold light of day with these people who had all just gangfucked her or spectated the night before was nearly unbearable. She knew her face was flushed red. Someone handed her another shot and she took it. The last one had helped.


Kevin came into the dining area and looked at her sitting there wrapped in the towel, her bare legs crossed beneath the table, eating and trying to somehow ignore the guys watching her.

"We've still got this place booked until tomorrow," he said, coming up and standing behind her. "One more full night, and then some. Hopefully we have a strong turnout again tonight."

He reached down and started to pull the towel off of her. She paused, as if debating whether or not to resist him, then she adjusted her weight to allow him to finish pulling it out from under her. Subservient to the end. Why fight it now?

He tossed the towel away and then sat across the table from her. He gave her a wink, and then smiled at her until she looked back down, focusing on her food.

He knew that she had to hate him now. Of course he would have loved it if he could have subjected her to all this and then continued to be with her, keep her as a submissive, degradable fucktoy for life, but he knew it wouldn't be possible. He couldn't have his cake and eat it too. Kattie was manipulable, but only to an extent. She still had pride and a sense of dignity in there. This same trait that made her so delicious to humiliate would also ensure that she wouldn't stay with him after this. She wouldn't stand for the betrayal. He could already see this confirmed in her face. So he had to squeeze all his satisfaction from this experience. Ensure that her life from now on could never remotely pass as normal, and rid her of any delusions that it could.

Someone had poured her another shot of tequila and placed it before her.

"I really suggest you keep drinking," he told her. "It'll make it better."

He pulled out his phone and navigated to some of the older posts on one of the sites with a huge collection of her pictures.

"It's still crazy to me that you really thought all this might fade into the obscurity of the deep web," he said. She still wasn't looking up at him. "Your pictures and videos were and are getting shared everywhere. Mainstream places. I bet guys recognized you almost every day. Check this out. This is a comment on a picture of you from 6 months ago: 'Knew this slut in highschool. Kattie Duval from Long Beach. Was always pretty shy, was once the only girl who wouldn't take her top off when a few of us went skinny dipping, even though it was pitch black. Never thought I'd be seeing her gaping her vagina while staring into my eyes on camera, lol.' There's a bunch more like that. Seems like every guy in your school has been jerking off to this stuff and sharing it since the day it happened. Not to mention a million other people."

He turned and showed her the picture in question, an incredibly degrading and shocking picture of her spread eagle, full body in view, the whole tunnel of her vagina spread wide and lit with an implement. He could see her flushing red, imagining all her old friends and family and acquaintances seeing her like this. She'd probably never get used to it.

"You know, I'm not a doctor, but I have a theory about why you get off so hard to this, even while you hate it. At least why, in part. Some people, women especially, apparently carry their stress in their pelvic muscles without even knowing it. So literally the more stressed you get, the more sensation goes down there. Some women spontaneously orgasm from an overload of stress. It's the body's way of coping with it. The groin just goes into spasm mode. It's called having a hypertonic pelvis. Sounds like you anyway, on top of whatever psychological shit you have going on."

She downed the shot. It got filled back up as soon as she set it down. Apparently these guys preferred it if she were drunk. He guessed he couldn't blame them. There was certainly a tension now.

Still, he powered through it as she took her third shot of the morning. If he was losing her, he was going to make sure she was as broken as possible by the time he was done with her.

"You know, this level of exposure you're at has only been possible in the Internet age. This is sort of unprecedented in human history. For this many people to be able to see this much of a single woman's body, and in such detail, and with such ease. Even ten years ago it wouldn't have been possible on this level. Everyone has a smartphone now, they can see it any time they want. It's so fortunate that your downfall basically went viral the way it did. You're reaching new heights of human degradation, really pushing the limits. You're one of the most exposed female bodies in human history. Hell, probably the single most. Even most pornstars haven't been as thoroughly documented as you have."

Kevin, while talking to her was posting on the main Kattiewebs.lut site.. "Make the trip, she will be here waiting to please you till check out tomorrow" He again posted the address, Hotel and room number. "Don't bother to knock. This is your chance!"

He could see her hands quivering slightly as she looked down at her food. Her breathing was coming slower, shallower and more ragged. She looked to be slowly, so slowly, grinding her bottom against her chair.

He hardened his voice. "It's proper that as many people as possible should be able to see you and feel you for themselves while you're still young and healthy. You have no right to deprive them. Your pussy, your asshole, every part of you. It's a public project now. It belongs to everyone. You need to realize that there's no going back. When we started dating, you thought you could escape it. Well I'm letting you know now that that won't be possible. It wasn't before we met, but it definitely isn't now. I will personally work to make sure your face, your holes, are seen everywhere, that your location and new aliases and looks will be tracked. And so will thousands of your other fans. Give up any hope of being able to outrun this. You have to assume that every second of new footage that's being created right now, along with all your old stuff, will be seen by everyone you've known, and everyone you'll meet in the future. Look into the camera and say hi to your future boyfriend, if you can find some cuck who will have you. You know he'll be seeing this. Say hi to your future coworkers, if you ever get another job. You won't be able to hide this. Half the guys in this room are dedicated to making sure of that. You asked for it. You're going to get it."

She clenched her eyes shut, her mouth hanging open slightly. Her shaking hands gripped the edge of the table, and she moaned loud enough for the whole room to hear, even though she tried in vain to hide it. This continued for several seconds until she collapsed back in the chair, breathing hard and shaking all over, as if she were cold.

Kevin smiled as the others chuckled. "Guess I was right about the pelvic floor," he said. "But it's all true. I've thought about it every time we've gone out in public together. How that any given guy we passed very well could have seen every inch of you. Seen you fucking countless dicks. How it was pointless for you to even wear clothes when anyone in the world could pull out their phone, type in your name, and within seconds be counting the wrinkles around your anus. And now you realize the full extent of it too. You'll never be able to be confident or have dignity in any future situation in your life, because whoever you're interacting with will have immediate access to a catalog of your degradation, forever. You'll have to carry that embarrassment with you everywhere you go, knowing that there's nothing about yourself you'll be able to keep private. There is nothing exclusive left about Kattie Ann Duval. So don't feel awkward sitting there without clothes. Any shred of modesty for you is long, long gone."

When Kattie finally got up from the table, the camera captured where she left a long string of vaginal mucus arcing from her pussy to the seat of the plastic chair. When she stood all the way up it broke and whipped around to cling wet and shimmering in a clear little rope on the back of her thigh. She wobbled slightly on her feet.

"She's leaking again," the cameraman said. "I think it's finally my turn with her. Get some good POV shots."

Soon Kattie found herself back on her knees on the floor, on all fours, the bare dick of the obnoxious camera guy sinking effortlessly into her shame-soaked cunt.

Thus began the second wave of her new ordeal. It began slowly at first, but more people began to trickle in as it grew later in the day. For the first three or so hours Kattie only fucked three new partners. Most present had already had her the day before, and Kevin was trying to limit it to only newcomers. So between fucks they entertained themselves by taking pictures of Kattie in various strange or compromised positions, trying to expand upon the pantheon of offerings already available of her online. If they could think of anything they hadn't seen footage of her doing, they made it happen. Kattie, meanwhile, was fed a slow but steady supply of alcohol, now mixed with the occasional bump of cocaine. She accepted them without question.

Around 7 pm the first major wave of new arrivals came. They were greeted with the sight of Kattie, naked except for the stripper's heels they'd had her put on, lying on her back with her long, thin legs spread in the air as someone emptied the contents of a seething champagne bottle into her ass. She barely even looked up at them, her head tilted to watch the pressurized alcohol disappear into her rectum, her face flushed red.

When it was emptied, they saw her stand up at the behest of the guys around her, and waddle around the room in the 8-inch tall heels as she attempted to hold the champagne in.

"Some's leaking out!" someone called, "Clench tighter! Keep it in there." Indeed, a couple thin rivulets were coursing out of her anus, running down her inner thighs all the way to her feet. She left a trail of champagne droplets on the floor where she went.

"I can't hold it in much longer," she said, the discomfort plain on her face.

"Alright, now squat here. But don't let it out yet."

They had a large margarita glass on the ground. Kattie squatted above it, her asshole positioned about six inches above the mouth of the huge glass.

"Hold it a minute. Just a bit longer. ...Alright. Let it out now."

With a sigh of relief, Kattie released her sphincter and felt the champagne surge out of her bowels, shitting the frothy liquid into the glass.

She didn't even wait for their direction on what to do next. She knew what it would have to be. She grabbed the big glass in both hands and raised it to her lips. They all leered at her or cheered as they watched her chug the alcohol that had been deep in her colon only moments before. People held up their phones to record, or just watched in amusement. Many of the newcomers watched with fascination and excitement, the event obviously meeting their expectations already.

She finished the glass, nearly an entire bottle's worth of ass-champagne, at the aggressive prompting of the circle of men around her, with much difficulty. When she'd downed the last of it, she held her stomach and fought the urge to retch, the large volume of alcohol and the mere thought of where it came from making her queasy. Even as the impenetrable circle of increasingly rowdy and drunken men cheered her exploit, she promptly vomited it out on the floor, unable to fight it any longer. A laughing cry of disappointment rose from the crowd. Someone forced her head to the ground to begin the process of licking it up, but as she did so someone took advantage of her raised rear, entering her doggy-style, and soon the vomit cleanup was forgotten, first-timers being eager to get their dicks inside one of her available holes as quickly as possible.

Soon she was air tight again, three new partners in each of her warm wet holes, switching with each other after they'd had their share of each. 433, 434, 435. Someone announced the tally. Can you tell you're the 435th dick in that vagina? Does it still feel like a regular pussy?

The same old story. Slipping into that self-defensive reverie of lust, self-loathing and intoxication. The night went on, people came and went. Drugs and drink were passed. The hour grew later and soon the festivities seemed to have equaled or surpassed the level of the night before. They had her on a paced but steady diet of alcohol, cocaine, and ecstasy. At least that's what she assumed it all was. At a certain point she just began automatically ingesting whatever was offered to her.

People were everywhere around her, guys mostly, but also girls too, dressed up for a night out, looking down at her with disgust and amusement, holding drinks and phones in their hands. Their faces were all a blur to her. She couldn't tell if these were all new people, or some return guests from the night before, or what. Kevin seemed determined to ensure that only new partners fucked her though. His chief purpose was to raise that unique number.

One partner after another she mounted, or spread herself open for, or was tossed around by. One by one they rooted themselves to her, attaching their body to hers, grunting and thrusting until they got their hot, filthy release in or on her. Maybe one in three used a condom. Those that did tied their filled little cumbags off and placed them in the fridge with the ones from the night before, as instructed, a growing and ominous pile.

She rode them passionately again now, a delirious sort of passion, moving her hips, grinding her clit into each guy's pubes, seeking some ever-elusive release for herself. Humping up and down hard on them, letting their dickheads smash into her cervix in a sweet pain, bruising it, trying to fuck her constant nightmare away. 452, someone said. 453.

A carnival of hot, sweaty dicks, in her, on her, all over her. God she was filthy. She was bathing in the sweat and semen of this procession of anonymous men, barely able to focus on a face at a time. She hazily picked up on the fact that she was fucking a few of the staff at the hotel now, some horny bellhops who had got wind of what was going on and sneaked in after their shift, unable to pass up free pussy.

She was lying on her back on the ground now, those famous coltish legs flung wide, someone between them flushing her soiled pussy out with the full weight of his hips between each cock-thrust. The onlookers could see where a small froth was forming around the base of his shaft, building up from the residue of former creampies he was fucking out of her hole. Soon he added his own load and withdrew. He moved his still rigid, bouncing cock up to her mouth as the next guy replaced him in her creamy red cunt. As her body began to shake again from the next man's thrusts, the first guy pressed the base of his shaft against her mouth, his balls slapping her chin, and watched as she instinctively put out her tongue and licked away the ring of anonymous cum-froth that was circled there.

More time, more men. While she was covered in plenty of cum from men, her own creamy ovulation, a thick, sudsy white lather from deep in her uterus, was issuing forth in a slow but voluminous surge, coating her labia and inner thighs as she fucked. What a time for her body to be preparing an egg to be fertilized. It would have plenty of sperm to choose from. The thought that she was so unprotected, off of her birth control now, and so unable to do anything about it, or choose which of these men might impregnate her, served to mentally torture her in the best and worst ways possible. God she had never felt so vulnerable in her life. A fertile vessel for all this seed.

Kattie was on all fours, getting double penetrated by one guy below her in her vagina and one guy fucking her ass doggy style. The guy in her ass came and pulled out, leaving the rim of her asshole puckered and gaping slightly. Some people were sitting on the couch within immediate eyesight of this, and pointed out to each other the spectacle of her asshole winking and contracting in an attempt to resume its normal shape and circumference.

"It's like a little mouth!" the girl on the couch slurred drunkenly. Her inebriation was obviously adding to her amusement. Kattie recognized her as Meredith, a girl who worked the opposite shift from her at the clothing store. Still, they knew each other well enough, not that Kattie had ever liked her. She had always been a condescending bitch to Kattie. So now she'd just turned up for the spectacle. How often do you get to see a coworker get gangfucked by dozens of strangers on camera? How much more superior she must feel to her now.

"Let's make it prettier!" she said, pulling out a stick of dark red lipstick. "I don't want this shade anymore anyway."

Kattie felt Meredith's hands spreading her ass cheeks wider apart.

"Pucker it out for me, Kattie!"

Kattie just obeyed, pushing out on her anus, making the ringed ridge of her sphincter protrude slightly above the surrounding flesh. She felt the lipstick make contact as Meredith applied a dark red ring right around her asshole.

"There we go! That'll give everyone a nice target to aim for. Here, give me your lips, too. You could use a touchup. Make you match on both ends."

Meredith came around and gave Kattie's lips a thick coating from the lipstick that had just been on her butthole. Kattie pressed her lips together instinctively, absurdly assuring an even coat was applied.

"Much prettier!" Meredith said.

Kattie's body coursed with a sudden hatred for this girl, even as another cock entered her ass, leaving her to choke down a sudden sob of frustration as she continued to get fucked like a for the amusement of this bitch enjoying a front row seat of her degradation.

"Your ass is smearing lipstick on his cock, Kattie," Meredith slurred. She had her phone out now, recording the whole thing. "I've got to show this to Marty and Laura. They're not going to believe it."

A new cock was in Kattie's throat now, plugging away deep. The lipstick left a dark, reddish brown circle around the base of the guy's cock. Meredith happily recorded her work. The pro camera was up close as well, recording in full detail the way Kattie's lips worked over the cock, where the dark red of the lipstick ended in a distinct line where it gave way to the softer pink of her unpainted, inner lips. As she sucked this line became blurred, and you could watch as the lipstick was slowly smeared off of her lips as it was transferred to cock after cock.

Other guys kept switching in and out of her. She had no idea how many there'd been tonight. She knew they were keeping a tally but she didn't even want to look at it yet. Her mind kept switching back and forth between self-destructive lust and anger and humiliation. Meredith in her face mocking her was really doing a number on her. This bitch had always acted like she was better than her, even when she'd had no idea that Kattie was the most widely-shamed webslut on the internet. That smug validation on her face.

It didn't help that these cruel fan club weirdos were now saying fucked up shit to her while they fucked her, right where Meredith and her social media friends could hear it all. It stung most of all because the things they were saying were true.

"So you thought you'd be getting engaged to be married this week, huh?" one guy asked while he fucked her hard from behind, no condom. He had two fingers from his right hand deep in her ass, and his left hand in her mouth, pulling her lips open or grabbing her tongue with his fingers.

"Well that was a stupid idea, wasn't it? I knew you were a but I didn't know you were such a stupid, clueless . But don't worry about it. You get to be married to cock your whole life. Not just one cock, but every cock. The concept of cock. Isn't that really better for an insatiable little like you?"

She felt the guy nutting inside of her, and with an involuntary cry she began projectile squirting on the floor right as he pulled out. Her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor, her body still twitching slightly from the aftershocks.

"God, what a nasty slut," Meredith was narrating. "She loved that shit."

A couple other girls from the shop were on the couch with Meredith now, along with one of her male coworkers. Two of them Kattie had thought she was on very friendly terms with, but now they were sitting there, drinks in hand, with a front row seat to her getting bareback fucked by countless strangers. They couldn't look more amused.

She let more cocks enter her. After another guy came in her ass, he pulled out so suddenly that he caused Kattie's vacated bowels to make an impromptu sighing, wheezing noise. Her coworkers on the couch laughed uproariously at this.

Kevin was at her ear.

"Fart the rest of the cum out for them," he said.

Kattie bit her lip, looking down at the floor. She was on her hands and knees, her spread ass and anus pointed right at her acquaintances on the couch, maybe three feet away from them. With a sigh she bore down through her lower intestines, until a sputtering little fart rippled out of her asshole, bringing forth with it a glob of white semen that rolled down her taint and into her slightly gaped pussy.

"Oh she is SO nasty," one of the girls on the couch, Cassandra, said. She too had her phone out, recording this humiliation in detail.

"Push harder," Kevin said. "That ass is loosened up. Push as hard as you can, show them everything you have."

Kattie bit harder on her lower lip to keep herself from openly sobbing. She knew her face was flushed with her pangs of white hot humiliation. Ignoring it, she clenched her fingers against the floor and pushed her anus out as hard as she could. A much louder, wet farting noise ripped out, and she felt another warm wad of cum surge out and slide down into her vagina. A hole that was at this point probably just as filthy as the inside of her colon anyway.

From their vantage point on the couch, Kattie's coworkers saw her worn out anus bulge forward along with the broader pelvic floor region, straining out until the actual interior was actually poking out a little - a rippled, darker pink maw, streaks of cum and other fluid flowing out with it.

"Well there you go Cassandra," Kattie thought. "That's what my slightly prolapsing anus looks like."

"Keep pushing," Kevin said. "And harder. Hold it there. Don't let it go back in. Try to turn yourself inside out for them."

The faces on the couch were all shock and awe - amused and disgusted. Kattie kept pushing, the tears of frustration and humiliation in her eyes now, until her well-fucked asshole did prolapse out a bit more, a two-inch wide pink sock billowing out slightly between her asscheeks. A long line of grool hung unbidden out of her unstimulated pussy, until it swung like a pendulum and stuck to the side of her thighs. Pure livewire shame arousal.

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