Very Bad Girls

by Lauren Chase

  She unsnapped the bodice and let it slide down her arms, feeling the caress of silk as she let it drop into the reaching hands of one of the men. James had pointed out Mr. Johnson just before she entered and the dancer made her way slowly through the men to where he sat. Concentrating on him for the moment she swayed and gyrated her hips, giving him a good view of all her assets. She bit back a startled noise when he suddenly reached for her, sliding his hands roughly over her hips and shoving her tiny skirt up and out of his way. Stepping back from him, she shimmied the skirt the rest of the way off her body and stepped out of it so she was dressed only in her jewelry and red lace panties.

  They gathered closer around her, hands reaching out to touch her skin, turning her this way and that. Her breath quickened with fear as she felt them pressing tightly around her. Someone slipped a hand between her legs, laughing as he felt how wet the crotch of her panties already was. Mr. Johnson didn’t leave his chair but she found herself pushed back towards him until she was standing between his legs. He reached forward and peeled her lace panties down her supple, tanned legs.

  Ashley only had time to register the growing bulge in his slacks before she was pushed forward into his lap, landing awkwardly with her full breasts thrust into his face. His smile made her shudder- it reminded her of a shark, cold and predatory. She tried to move off his lap but his hands were like steel, his hips pushing up to grind his hard erection against her slick cunt. The soft fabric of his slacks rubbed over her sex, brushing against her clit and she threw back her head, dark hair spilling down her back as a breathy moan escaped her throat.

  Someone grabbed her hand, and she jumped at the feeling of hot, naked flesh under her palm as he guided her hand inside the undone zipper of his slacks. Mr. Johnson was undoing his own zipper underneath her, until his erection bobbed free, the head brushing against her horny slit. A hand tangled in her thick hair and someone else standing around the chair pulled her head over, pushing a cock head between her lips even as Mr. Johnson thrust up, sinking himself into her tight, unprepared depths. She moaned around the cock on her mouth, closing her eyes as she felt more hands caressing her body and a hot mouth closing on one of her tits. Her nipples were pinched, pulled, bitten, and sucked and she felt an orgasm rippling through her, clenching her channel tightly around the dick inside her as she came before they’d hardly started.

  The men laughed quietly, their voices low with lust, turned on further by how the dancer responded to their rough touches. She wasn’t given a chance to refuse- no one had ever refused them, and they didn’t expect it now. She was theirs to do with as they pleased, to use to satisfy them until they felt like tossing her aside. There were so many that she couldn’t keep track of them, too busy concentrating on the cock in her mouth to keep from choking as the hand in her hair forced her to take it deeply into her throat. Something cold and slick dribbled down her ass and a finger prodded at her tight, virgin ring.

  She tried to squirm away, moaning around the cock in her mouth as it simply drove Mr. Johnson’s meat deeper into her eager cunt. Squealing as a thick finger was pressed past her ring, she almost choked when the cock in her mouth suddenly erupted cum, forcing her to swallow it by keeping his meat planted in her mouth. Some dribbled down her chin and neck, beading on her collarbone and breasts. He pulled away and she gasped for breath.

  “Please, stop-” Then another cock was shoved into her mouth and she couldn’t do more than a few more muffled protests. The man behind her worked another finger in and she squeeze her eyes closed at the mixed pleasure-pain.

  “Fucking horny slut, don’t give me that. I bet you love taking it in the ass dry. I’m doing you a service here.” A hand came down hard on her rump and she gave a muffled cry, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes as her ass smarted from the blow. Then her eyes flew open as the fingers were pulled out of her ass and the head of a cock pressed in, shoving its way past her tight pucker and ramming deeply into her.

  Ashley wasn’t sure when the pain turned into pleasure, the feeling of being so full unlike anything she’d felt before. Under her, Mr. Johnson groaned and sprayed his rich seed into her cunt. She was picked up by the man in her ass, pulled off of her wealthy patron. Another man stepped in between them, shoving his cock into her slick, sloppy pussy with a moan. She was rocked back and forth between them, her hands and mouth suddenly free of cock so she braced her hands on the shoulders of the man in front of her, moaning lustily. Hot, sticky streams of cum splattered on her golden skin, painting her body in thin, stringy rivulets.

  “God dammit, she’s so tight.” The man behind her gasped through gritted teeth as he rammed himself deep into her ass again, his body tensing as he coated he finished coating her insides. Almost simultaneously the other man came in her pussy, his cum dribbling out and splatting on the expensive hardwood floor. They set her down on the rug at Mr. Johnson’s feet and she blinked to try and clear her blurry vision, body wracked by pleasure and need, the absence of their hot meat making her feel sore and empty.

  Someone knelt behind her, grabbing her ankles and pulling them above her head, easily bending her in half due to her dancer’s flexibility. Rough leather cuffs were tightly fastened around her ankles and thighs, holding her legs folded with a bar between them that kept her from closing them. A chain attached that to a heavy leather collar fastened around her neck, holding her legs up to present her cunt and gaping ass to the room. Lasting her wrists were also cuffed and fastened to her ankle cuffs, leaving her helpless.

  Someone rolled her back onto her shoulders and Ashley bit her lip as she watched the men standing above her, again invading her orifices. Another knelt in front of her, grabbing her jaw and squeezing until she opened her mouth so he could shove his cock inside. They pounded her body until she lost track of time and how many times they had traded places. She wasn’t sure how many cocks she tasted, shoved deep into her throat and emptying their seed into her stomach until she thought she was going to explode with the amount of cum she was forced to drink.

  Eventually they left, one by one, leaving her tied up on the floor in a pool of cum and her own juices. She heard the door open softly, and let her eyes flutter open. She recognized James as he stood over, looking at her cuffed into place, helpless.

  “Please,” she murmured “I’m so tired.” She couldn’t articulate more than that, her sore body exhausted. He chuckled and leaned down and unhooked her collar, taking the spreader out from between her legs. He clipped something else to her leash and gave a hard tug. She winced and tried to get her limbs working after so long pinned in one position.

  “Come on slut, time to get cleaned up. I’ll take you home in a few hours.” He grinned as he pulled her along, shoving her back down onto her hands and knees when she tried to stand. “But Mr. Johnson might call on you again, so we’ll leave you all properly collared like a good pet. Maybe you’ll get to sleep, maybe you won’t.”

  She shivered at the threat, but could feel the moisture building between her legs. Her eyes travelled up his legs as she crawled beside him on all fours, until she saw the growing bulge in his pants. He saw her lick her lips in anticipation and smiled. Ashley met his gaze and grinned right back.

  Sister and Sinner

  The air was cold as Mary Catherine stepped from the shower stall, wrapping a towel around her body. She looked around the room, and was happy to find she was alone. After six months in the convent she still hadn't grown accustomed to never having privacy. And now, days after taking her final vows, she really needed some alone time.

  She squeezed water from her long dark hair and left it hanging down her back. As she slid the towel over her body to dry off, she winced at the rough cloth, and then chided herself for it. Comforts like fabric softener were for the rest of the world, not nuns.

  Lifting a long leg on the side of the tub, she groaned as the cold air hit between her legs, over the secret she kept from everyone, her smooth, hairless mound. As a girl when she discovered the pl
easure her own hands could bring, she'd shaved down there and marveled at how much more sensitive and naughty it felt to be hairless.

  First it had been just a hand pressed against her body. She'd rock on it, letting the hot waves of pleasure take over her body. But as she got older and realized no one knew what she was doing, she'd moved on. Using a finger to target the exquisite feeling had led to the discovery of her clit, and she's spent many nights tweaking the tiny nub until she couldn't take any more. Then, after accidentally sliding a soapy finger inside her tight hole during a bath, she'd found a new way to heighten the ecstasy.

  After a few years she was obsessed with getting herself off. Four or five times a day she'd find whatever private place was convenient and make herself come over and over until her hand cramped up and her legs shook. A few times she'd even pushed something other than a finger deep inside her. That had stopped after she broke through her hymen with a carrot, but the memory of the pleasure she gave herself, the way it took over her whole body and mind was still there, creating comfort and longing at the same time.

  And now, years later, she still kept it bare, even though she knew the others would never approve. She'd given her life over to a higher power, but she still kept the spark of that voracious young girl hidden deep inside her. Of course, she didn't masturbate anymore, but she still loved the feeling of her bare pussy lips in the air or against her panties.

  Mary Catherine looked up at the mirror and frowned. As the Mother Superior had warned, her beauty was a problem. Big blue eyes on top of a cute button nose and wide, pouty lips. Not the face of a woman dedicated to prayer and service. But even without a bit of makeup she was a stunner. And her body was that impossible combination of thin and lush, curved in just the right places. Her breasts, high and round, rode her chest proudly, tipped with dark red nipples that were hard as rocks in the chilly air.

  A bell chimed and she grunted. Late again for Mass, on today of all days. She swiped the rest of her body quickly and pulled on her clothes before running out of the bathroom. She arrived at the chapel as the doors were closing and slipped in beside her sisters, pretending not to see the disapproving looks from the others. She bowed her head and tried to lose herself for the moment, pushing away her frustrations, doubts and nerves.

  *

  Twelve hours later she was exhausted. After cleaning up the kitchen she put the apron away and left the soup kitchen, waving goodbye to her new coworkers and making her way to the bus. She only had minutes to make the walk to the bus stop or risk having to wait alone in the dark for another hour. As she turned the corner she heard the sound and ran. As she feared, the bus was starting to pull away. Her first instinct was to yell, but then she remembered her vow. It seemed old-fashioned to many, but she felt the silence of her order was reverential and moving.

  So, yelling was out of the question. She sprinted, slapping the side of the bus as she drew closer to the door. And finally, it stopped and the doors slid open.

  Breathing hard, Mary Catherine climbed the stairs and showed the driver her bus pass.

  "Cutting it close, aren't you, Sister?"

  She nodded and made her way down the aisle as the bus pulled into traffic. It was crowded and she was jostled into people as she walked to an empty seat. Mary Catherine tried to make eye contact with the people she bumped and look apologetic, but most ignored her. Others muttered rude things under their breath. One man glared and called her a "Stupid cunt."

  She was shocked at the language he used in front of a nun. What had become of the world?

  With a long sigh Mary Catherine settled in her seat and closed her eyes, happy to finally have a moment of peace and quiet. Unconsciously fingering the heavy, dark fabric of her habit, she let the sounds of the bus fade away, knowing the ride back to the convent would be long.

  *

  A hand shaking her shoulder woke Mary Catherine with a start. Her eyes flew open and she was disoriented from sleeping so deeply. A moment of panic faded to calm as she recognized the bus driver.

  "Sister, are you all right?"

  She nodded, blinking as she looked around the bus, now mostly empty, and the dark street outside.

  "Good. I was worried there for a minute. Anyway, you slept through all the excitement. One of the tires blew and we've been waiting for a replacement bus, but they're taking forever. Some of the passengers want to walk a half mile or so to find other transportation and I think you should go with them."

  Mary Catherine smiled at him and shook her head. She didn't have money for a taxi and wasn't familiar enough with the city to know if there was another bus to take her back to the convent.

  "You're one of them that don't talk, right?"

  She nodded again.

  "Well, do you want me to call someone for you? To pick you up or let them know why you're late?"

  She shook her head and patted him on the hand. What a nice, thoughtful man. She wished she had paper or some way to thank him.

  "All right. Well, I'm going to go show them the way, I'll be right back."

  She nodded and turned her attention to the rest of the bus. Five people stood by the door ready to leave. There were two men still sitting in front of her a few rows. One, tall and disheveled, appeared to be asleep. The other was small and pale, his nose buried in a newspaper.

  Mary Catherine watched the driver lead the group down the stairs and off the bus. She lost sight of them as they crossed in front of the stopped vehicle.

  Before she had time to think about what a bad idea it was to be alone on a dark street on a bus, someone ran down the aisle from behind her. He stopped by the driver's seat and fumbled with the switch that closed the front door. Uh oh, it was the man who'd called her a rude name. That couldn't be good. He was big. Muscular, and what her mother would have called swarthy, dark in tight jeans and a black t-shirt with tattoos circling his massive arms.

  When he finally managed to shut the door the man turned to address the people left on the bus. "Well, it looks like this is going to be a private party. Let's start with everyone handing over their wallets."

  The sleeping man slept on, but the other one stood up with a shout. "Come on, now. There's no reason for this. The driver will be back in a moment."

  The tattooed man snarled and walked over to him. "Shut up. He can't get in, and he can't help you. Now, hand over the wallet before things get ugly."

  The other man's face paled, practically glowing in the dim light. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  The tattooed man took it and laughed. "Good choice. Who's next?"

  From the back of the bus came a quiet, low voice. "What's going on?"

  Mary Catherine turned to see an elderly woman in glasses struggling to stand up.

  "It's a robbery, Granny. But you don't look like you got much money. Sit down and shut up."

  The old woman gasped, but didn't sit. In fact, she stepped forward, holding onto the seats to steady herself. "You mind your manners, young man," she said.

  The tattooed man strode towards her, an evil look on his face. Mary Catherine panicked and jumped up between them, holding her hands up in warning.

  "Get out of the way," the man growled."

  She shook her head and glared at him.

  "The fuck? What are you, a dumb nun? That's funny. Dumb nun." The sound of nervous laughter filled the bus. "Move or I'll move you."

  Mary Catherine took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes defiantly.

  "You wanna be like that? Fine. Granny, why don't you hit that emergency button and get off this bus."

  The old woman put her hand on Mary Catherine's arm and squeezed. "She's going with me."

  "Not a chance. This here brave nun is staying right here with me and my boys."

  Mary Catherine wondered what he was talking about, letting her mind wander a bit too long. Before she knew it the older woman was gone and the tattooed man was closing the back door behind her.

  From the back of the bus two mo
re men came forward. She hadn't noticed them before, but from their clothes and cruel faces she realized they must be the tattooed man's "boys." The three of them advanced on her, pushing her back into her seat, and then loomed over her.

  One of the men, taller than thinner than the leader, leaned down into her face. "This ain't no nun," he claimed.

  The leader snorted. "Then what the fuck is she wearing that outfit for? Halloween is six months away."

  "I dunno, Frank, but I went to Catholic school and never saw a nun this young and hot."

  "Hot?" The leader, Frank, bent down and peered at her face closely. "Yeah, I guess she ain't bad."

  The third man chimed in, too. "You're right. Hey, maybe she's a stripper nun. You know, like you send to someone as a gift?"

  All three laughed then, their eyes roaming her body, trying to see something of her shape beneath the loose, draping fabric.

  The leader knelt down next to her and put his hand on her knee. "Only one way to find out, boys." He slid his hand up her thigh, raising the skirt over her calves and knees. "No fishnets or whatever. Guess I better keep looking for evidence since this bitch ain't talking."

  Mary Catherine's eyes widened and she tried to push his hand away, to no avail. One of the other men reached over and pulled her arms above her head, trapping her completely.

  Frank slid his hand under her skirt and up to her crotch. "Well, well, well. She's wearing some kind of cheap ass panties, so that's one point for the nun theory. But she's wet, too. One for the stripper."

  Mary Catherine gasped and wiggled back as far as she could, away from his probing hands. And just as fear was settling in, the pale man from the front of the bus appeared.