Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Annabel and Mr.  Nash

   Copyright 2014 by Lorenzo Marks

   (MF, nc, humil, bd, exhib, spank)



   Author's Note: If you want to find out how Annabel became ensnared in
this humiliating trap, please first read Parts 1- 6.

   PART SEVEN - ANNABEL GOES TO WORK



   Chapter Eighty-One

   "There!" Mrs.  Craddock chuckled.  "That looks much better!"

   Annabel stared at her new hairstyle in the mirror and nearly burst into
tears.  Her beautiful red tresses were gone!  She had worn her hair long
for as far back as she could remember, and its luster and rich quality had
always been a source of both admiration and envy amongst her peers.  But
now in its place was a plain, frumpy bob, which Mrs.  Craddock had - quite
deliberately - hacked away at so badly that all the ends were at different
lengths, making it obvious that it was a homemade haircut!

   Over the past couple of months, Nash and his accomplices had
systematically taken away Annabel's dignity and pride, possessed her body
in every conceivable way, and had even reduced her to the status of a
performing animal - but up until now, she had always had her lovely long
hair as a reminder of her former life.  Now they had taken that away too.

   "What's that miserable face for?" Mrs.  Craddock said, stroking
Annabel's bare shoulder.  "You are going to be a hired help now.  We can't
have you presenting a hygiene risk in nice people's homes, can we?"

   To her chagrin and self-disgust, Annabel felt her nipples tightening as
the old woman continued to caress her shoulder.  The fact that she was as
naked as the day she was born meant that she was unable to hide her
unwanted arousal.

   Mrs.  Craddock moved around behind her, and ran her fingers through
Annabel's newly-shorn locks.  "Well, I think you look very nice."

   Unexpectedly, she planted a kiss on the back of Annabel's exposed neck,
making her start, and causing goose bumps to spread along her arms. 
Annabel had spent many hours alone with Mrs.  Craddock over the course of
her confinement, and the old woman had often hinted at a less than healthy
interest in Annabel's body.  She had grown quite accustomed to being naked
in front of the strict housekeeper - often whilst enduring one of her many
sadistic punishments - but she had never quite been able to get used to
being touched by her.  The problem was that her rebellious,
sexually-supercharged body had other ideas!

   To Annabel's dismay, Mrs.  Craddock slipped her hands under her armpits
and then gently cupped her breasts.  As the old lady took her swollen
nipples between her fingers, Annabel couldn't help emitting a little
embarrassing moan of pleasure.

   "You like that?" Mrs.  Craddock crooned into her ear.

   It was a difficult question to answer.  Just as when she was forced to
make love to Nash each night, Annabel was now torn apart by her utter
revulsion at the old crone's fondling, and the overpowering desire for
sexual release that was building within her.  Wretchedly, she knew from
bitter experience that it was only a matter of time before her base animal
instincts took over.

   "Please stop!" Anabel whimpered.

   "Come now, you don't mean that, do you?"

   Keeping her watery eyes on Annabel's reflection, Mrs.  Craddock moved
her right hand lower down until her fingertips were tickling Annabel's
puffed-up labia.

   Annabel's hips jerked involuntarily as Mrs.  Craddock deftly inserted a
calloused finger into her pussy.

   "No!" Annabel gasped.  "Please don't!"

   She started to wriggle as Mrs.  Craddock slowly moved her finger in and
out of her cunt, and a tear of shame escaped her eye.  The warmth was
spreading through her belly and despairingly, Annabel knew she was on the
brink of losing control.  She could feel Mrs.  Craddock's thumb rotating on
her clitoris now, and she let out a low groan and closed her eyes.  But
just when she was about to come, the old woman stopped her ministrations
and abruptly removed her finger.

   "Oh!" Annabel opened her eyes, and looked at Mrs.  Craddock frantically.

   "What's the matter?" Mrs.  Craddock said.  "I thought you wanted me to
stop?"

   Annabel's right hand automatically went to her crotch but Mrs.  Craddock
slapped it away.  "No you don't, you dirty girl!  You know the house rules
- no masturbating.  If you want to come, you'll have to ask somebody else
to do it for you."

   Oh, you spiteful bitch!  You can't leave me in this condition!

   Looking miserably down at her bare feet, Annabel drew a tremulous
breath, and said, "Would you...  please...?"

   "Oh no, you had your chance.  You'll just have to cope." Mrs.  Craddock
smiled cruelly, then added.  "Although if you ask nicely, maybe Mr.  Nash
will oblige."

   Despite the urgency of her situation, Annabel recoiled at the thought of
begging the old lecher for sex.  But what in God's name was she going to
do? She felt as though she was going to explode!  There was no way she
would be able to last the day like this!

   In the event, Mrs.  Craddock, as usual, made the decision for her. 
"Come along, follow me downstairs, and we'll ask him."





   Chapter Eighty-Two

   Alastair Barclay sipped his tea impatiently.  It was always the same
whenever he visited Nash's modest brownstone.  Just knowing that he was
about to participate in yet another installment of the continuing
debasement of young Miss Annabel, put him into such a state of excitement
that he could hardly sit still!

   Alastair's sadistic pleasure was heightened by the fact that he had both
known and lusted after Annabel for many years as she had matured from a
precocious child into a stunningly beautiful woman.  As the head butler at
Pemberton Hall, he had of course been obliged to keep his lustful desires
private - compelled instead to relieve his frustrations with nightly
jerk-off sessions in his bed whilst fantasizing about his young mistress.

   Of course that had all changed dramatically over the past few months,
and since Darius Nash had taken control of Annabel's life, Alastair had
enjoyed the delights of her body on numerous occasions - not to mention
witnessing her undergoing the most humiliating and depraved sexual
torments!

   He glanced over at the man responsible for changing his life - as well
as poor Annabel's - with an ambivalent mixture of distaste and admiration.
Despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, Nash clearly had no breeding,
and mother nature had certainly not been kind regarding his physical
appearance.  And yet, beneath that unappealing exterior dwelt a strength of
character and a dark magnetism that had enabled him to transform Annabel
and her equally attractive black friend Alisha, from arrogant, independent
young women into shamefaced sex objects.  Even though they were acting
under duress, bit by bit, Nash was insinuating himself as the ultimate
authority in their lives.

   In the latest development in her new life of servitude, Annabel was to
be farmed out as a domestic to certain carefully selected clients.  No
doubt, Alastair mused, she would be performing far more than regular
household duties, and he had no doubt that Nash would be charging
handsomely for any `extra' services that Annabel might be required to
perform.  Alastair had found out about this when, to his delight and
surprise, Nash had asked him if he would be prepared to use his own Honda
CR-V to ferry the hapless girl to and from her various destinations.  In
return, Alastair would receive a modest remuneration, but more importantly,
as Annabel's `chauffeur', he would be allowed to attend and hopefully
participate in her humiliating ordeals.

   A rap on the living room door brought him back to the present, and the
ugly old housekeeper, Mrs.  Craddock, entered the room followed by Annabel
- who was stark naked!  Upon seeing Alastair, she wrapped an arm across her
breasts, and placed her other hand over her crotch.  Even after all he had
seen and done with her, she remained as shy and embarrassed as ever.  As
the red-faced girl studiously examined the carpet, Alastair stared in
amused surprise at her badly cut hair.  She hadn't worn her hair short
since she was a small child, and he knew how vain she was about her long,
flowing red locks.  Yet another link with her former privileged life had
been cruelly severed!

   "I'm sorry to bother you," Mrs.  Craddock said, "but Annabel has a
request."

   "Well, what is it?" Nash said haughtily.

   "Annabel, go and stand in front of your master and tell him what you
want?" Mrs.  Craddock said.

   Annabel shifted uneasily, her face growing even redder.

   "Now!" Mrs.  Craddock said, slapping her on the ass.

   Annabel yelped and shuffled awkwardly into the center of the room. 
Still with her eyes averted, she said, "I...  I want..."

   "For goodness sake girl, spit it out!" Nash said.

   "Annabel's been playing with herself upstairs and now she's all
flustered," Mrs.  Craddock said, her words making Annabel squirm
noticeably.

   "Is this true?" Nash asked Annabel, who nodded her head imperceptibly.

   "And now you want to come?"

   Again, the slight nod of the head.

   "You are a filthy little slut," Nash said.  "Well, if you want us to
satisfy your carnal urges, you're going to have to ask nicely."

   Her head bowed, Annabel mumbled, "Please will you..."

   "No, not like that.  Put your hands behind your head and look at us,"
Nash said.

   Slowly, Annabel adopted the humbling pose, and Alastair hungrily took in
every inch of her firm, smooth body.  Her pink nipples looked quite
engorged and when he gazed at her shaven vulva, he noticed that her puffy
labia were glistening with her love juice.  Even though she was obviously
dying with embarrassment, it was indeed evident that she had been worked up
into an extreme state of arousal.

   "Kneel on the floor," Nash commanded.

   Her eyes glistening, Annabel dropped to the carpet, keeping her hands
behind her head.  Watching her wobbling breasts, Alastair felt his cock
stiffening.

   "Now what do you have to say for yourself?" Nash said.

   Her face an impossibly dark shade of crimson, Annabel said in a barely
audible voice, "Please will you make me come, sir?"

   Alastair gazed at the devastated girl, open mouthed.  To be naked and
kneeling, pleading for sex, in front of her former manservant, had to be
humbling beyond words.

   Nash checked his watch and looked at Alastair.  "You don't have to take
her to work until noon.  Would you like to oblige?"

   Trying not to appear over eager, Alastair said, "I guess we have time."

   "Very well, but you know that self-stimulation is strictly forbidden,
don't you Annabel?"

   "Yes, sir," Annabel whispered.

   "So you will have to be punished.  Do you agree?"

   Annabel looked at him, apparently unable to reply, so Nash said, "Either
you accept your punishment or you can go off to work all het up like that.
It's your choice.  Do you agree to being disciplined for your wanton
behavior?"

   Annabel nodded miserably.

   "I can't hear you."

   "Yes, sir," Annabel mumbled.

   "Yes, what?"

   "Yes, sir, I agree that I should be punished," Annabel said, her moist
eyes betraying her inner anger at being forced to concede that she was at
fault.

   "Okay then," Nash said, raising himself out of his armchair.  "Let's go
to the garage."





   Chapter Eighty-Three

   The garage-cum-torture dungeon was getting cooler now that summer was
near its end, but Annabel's rampaging body was on fire.  As humiliating as
it was to be standing naked in front of her three, fully-clothed,
middle-aged tormenters, her need for release was overwhelming.  She knew
that when it was over, she would feel the full brunt of her self-loathing -
but also that within a few hours she would be overcome with sexual desire
once again.  However he had achieved it, that cruel bastard Nash had
managed to ensnare her in a vicious cycle of bodily craving followed by
shameful remorse!

   Now she watched as Mrs.  Craddock bent down to unlock a vertical plank
bolted down a few inches above the concrete floor.  When she had been
suspended by her breasts down here with Alisha, Annabel had had plenty of
time to examine the new and sinister additions to the garage that Eddie
Yeats had constructed - the wooden cage, the hanging ropes and chains, the
horrid-looking headless rocking horse with its indecently attached rubber
dildo - but the low wooden plank had always baffled her as to its purpose.
Now she saw that it was separated down the middle and hinged, and when Mrs.
Craddock swung it outward, four holes that had been bored into the center
split in half.

   "Step inside, Annabel," Nash instructed.

   Still confused, Annabel placed her bare ankles inside the two
semi-circular openings as guided by Mrs.  Craddock.

   "Now bend over and put your hands on the floor," Nash said.

   Despite her extreme state of ardor, Annabel hesitated.  Placing her
wrists in the inner segments would mean bending double, and the holes had
been set approximately three feet apart, meaning that her ass would be
thrust out and her legs spread wide, gifting them all with a clear view of
her spread pussy!

   "Hurry up, girl!" Nash snapped.  "We haven't got all day, and you have
work to do later!"

   Hopelessly, Annabel bent forward as far as she could go, until her
wrists were just outside her ankles.  What was left of her hair hung down,
as did her breasts, and between her spread thighs she could see the
inverted faces of Nash and Barclay leering at her.  When Mrs.  Craddock
pushed the outer segment back into place and slid the small metal bolt
across, Annabel was firmly locked into her obscene and uncomfortable pose.

   "Look at that dripping cunt," Nash said.  "The little whore is aching
for it!"

   Annabel closed her eyes.

   *

   The distraught and frustrated girl certainly did present a delectable
picture as she bent her knees to accommodate her awkward and degrading
posture.  Alastair had seen stocks before, but never one that forced a
person to bend over in such an obscene and disagreeable way!  Nash was
right about her pussy too - her stretched labia were swollen and moist, and
there was even a damp patch surrounding her little button asshole.

   "I got the idea from a history book about the persecution of medieval
witches," Nash said proudly.  "It's a variation on the pillory but as you
can see, the victim is compelled to remain in a doubled-over position,
which I should imagine would become quite excruciating after a while."

   Alastair leaned forward for a closer look at Annabel's upside-down face
between her parted thighs, and although partially obscured by her hanging
breasts, he could see that it was already a much deeper shade of red than
before.

   "Well?" Nash said to Alastair.  "You'd better get on with it if
Annabel's not going to be late for her first job."

   Alastair would have preferred that Nash and Mrs.  Craddock left the
room, but by now he understood well that he was merely being used as a
conduit for Annabel's humiliation and suffering.  What mattered the most
was that she was demeaning herself in front of them, allowing them to
closely study this most intimate of acts.  If it hadn't happened already,
it would only be a matter of time before Nash and his cronies were familiar
with every detail of Annabel's private world - mentally, emotionally and
physically.

   Wordlessly Alastair unzipped his fly and positioned himself behind the
tormented girl.  He pulled his underpants to one side and his cock sprang
out, as rigid and proud as a teenager's.  Annabel always had this effect on
him, no matter how many times he possessed her.  It wasn't just her
physical beauty and sensational body that turned him on so, but also the
depth of shame and self-hatred that she had to be feeling as she submitted
to him.

   As he guided his cockhead up against Annabel's puffy labia, she jerked
her ass, sliding her plump vaginal lips over his purple glans, which caused
her to moan deeply.  Beside them, Mrs.  Craddock said, "If you want to
come, you must do the work, Annabel.  Now push back."

   As bizarre as it was to be once more copulating in front of spectators,
Alastair treasured the moment as Annabel slowly impaled herself upon his
member.  Placing his hands on her haunches, he watched his cock slide into
her body inch by inch, until his groin was flush against her soft buttocks.
Keeping totally still, he allowed Annabel to grind against him, nudging her
hot, sticky cunt back and forth in little thrusts along his shaft.

   It look less than five minutes before she came, her body convulsing, and
a high-pitched squeal rising up from below.  As the velvety walls of her
pussy contracted around his prick, Alastair too, breathed out a grunt of
delight as he erupted inside her.  They remained locked together while
their orgasms receded before Alastair was brought back to earth by the
sound of Mrs.  Craddock's voice.

   "What do you have to say, Annabel?"

   Breathing hard, Annabel said, "Thank you for fucking me, Mr.  Alastair!"

   Withdrawing his cock from her slick cunt, Alastair knew how difficult
that must have been to say.  Yes, he had fucked her many times before, but
in Annabel's mind, he would always remain the humble manservant that she
had grown up with, and he doubted that she would ever get remotely
comfortable with their new and kinky sexual relationship.

   "And now you need to be punished," Mrs.  Craddock said, retrieving a
rattan cane from a rack on the wall.

   Annabel's thighs began to quiver as she heard the wicked instrument
slicing through the air.

   "Yes," came her tremulous reply.

   "Then ask politely."

   Dear Lord, Alastair thought.  The old cow doesn't give her a moment's
respite, does she?

   "Plea...  please punish me for being a dirty girl!" Annabel whined.

   The first lash came unexpectedly, leaving a wicked, red welt across
Annabel's thrust-out buns.

   "Aah!" Annabel shrieked, and even Alastair winced at the sound of the
rattan biting into her soft flesh.

   "What do you say?" Mrs.  Craddock said.

   "Thank...  thank you for punishing me...eek!"

   A second angry stripe appeared as Mrs.  Craddock swished the cane
viciously down again.  With her wrists and ankles firmly secured in the
wooden stocks, Annabel had no choice but to remain in position, her legs
spread wide, her recently violated cunt on full display, and her tortured
ass wriggling frantically from side to side.





   Chapter Eighty-Four

   Turning his Honda CR-V into the wide leafy avenue that led to Helen's
parents' house, Alastair noticed Annabel shift uneasily in her seat beside
him.  His pretty young charge had been silent for the duration of the trip
- probably still inwardly squirming with abashment after her sex and
punishment session in Nash's `dungeon'.

   After giving Annabel six painful strokes of the cane, Mrs.  Craddock had
instructed her to ask Nash for anal sex.  Alastair had become aware over
the past weeks that although her asshole was being regularly breached -
both by middle-aged men's cocks and also a variety of sex toys - it
remained a painful and disgusting practice for her.  To make the act even
more degrading, Nash had placed the tip of his dick against her anus and
ordered her to impale herself on it.  With her wrists and ankles locked in
place, the stricken girl had been forced to rotate her lovely round ass
until she had successfully accommodated the entire length of Nash's penis
inside her rectum.

   Alastair had watched in fascination as master and slave had remained
locked obscenely together while Annabel had been forced to repeatedly thank
him for violating her bunghole.  After a good ten minutes of this
humiliation, he had finally exploded inside her, after which Annabel had
been ordered to plead for another six lashes across her ass cheeks.  When
her agonizing punishment had been administered, they had retired to the
living room for another cup of tea, leaving Annabel in her bent-over
position, naked and aching, her buttocks red and contused, and her cunt and
ass filled with semen.

   Now Alastair turned into Helen's driveway and shut off the engine. 
Noting the look of alarm on Annabel's sweet face, he said, "Yes, that's
right.  You're going to be working for your old friend Helen today."

   Aware that Annabel always suffered worst when being humiliated in front
of her former peers, Nash had deliberately kept her in the dark as to her
destination today - and from the look of panic in her eyes, the surprise
had obviously had the intended effect.

   With a little coaxing from Alastair, Annabel reluctantly got out of the
car.  It was quite extraordinary that even after all of the demeaning acts
she had been forced to perform in front of her old chums, she was still
terrified of facing them again.

   In a way, Alastair supposed, this new subservient role was probably
worse for her than the obscene sexual displays she had already enacted. 
Here she was, the former `lady of the manor', waited on hand and foot her
entire life, now being sent to work as a lowly skivvy for her old rival. 
No doubt, Helen would make her suffer every bit as much as Nash and Mrs. 
Craddock did - perhaps even more so.

   Alastair rang the bell and turned to survey Annabel's latest get-up. 
With the clear intention of making her an object of ridicule in front of
her trendy former friends, Mrs.  Craddock had dressed her in a plain gray
frock that buttoned all the way up to her neck.  The hem however, had been
cut away as raggedly as her hair, stopping at the tops of her thighs.  She
was wearing white cotton panties which were just visible from behind, but,
as was all too evident from the jutting outline of her nipples, no bra, and
on her sockless feet were a pair of cheap plastic, buckle-down sandals. 
With her terrible haircut completing the effect, this once
fashion-conscious heiress, would be the laughing stock - a fact which
clearly wasn't lost on Annabel, judging from her crimson cheeks and
anxious, round eyes.

   The door swung open and Helen said, "Ah, about time."

   Helen was dressed in a pair of powder blue shorts and a yellow shirt
which she had tied up to reveal her flat midriff, and Alastair thought she
looked absolutely radiant.

   Pity she's not another one of Nash's victims, he mused.  Then again, if
the old bastard ever gets an opportunity, I have no doubt he wouldn't
hesitate to ensnare her!

   "Good afternoon, Miss Helen," Alastair said, slotting neatly into his
professional demeanor.  "Your hired help is at your disposal for the rest
of the day.  Naturally, she will obey your every command - no matter what
it might be."

   The implications of his words were not lost on Annabel, and he noticed
that her legs were quivering.  Helen gave her an amused look and said,
"Good heavens, Annabel, whatever have you done to your hair?"

   Almost cringing with embarrassment, Annabel merely stared at the floor.

   "I understand that you'll be joining us this afternoon, Barclay," Helen
said.

   "As an observer, of course.  If Annabel misbehaves in any way, I am to
report it back to Darius who will arrange severe corrective measures for
her."

   "Well, everybody is waiting on the patio," Helen said chirpily.  "Shall
we?"

   Now Annabel did look up, her ample chest undulating rapidly.  It was
amazing to Alastair that even after everything that had happened to her,
Annabel still couldn't get over her sense of abject shame every time she
was publically degraded.  By now she knew Josh and Trent on a very intimate
level, and only a few weeks ago, they had looked on as she had performed
naked for them, first as a show pony, and then as a collared dog!  And yet,
here she was trembling with fear at the thought of them seeing her in this
demeaning get up!

   They followed Helen through the house, but when she saw her old friends
assembled on the back patio, Annabel froze in the French window.  Alastair
pinched the exposed lower half of one of her buttocks, making her jump.

   "Come on," he said, giving her light shove in the small of her back. 
"It's show time."



   Chapter Eighty-Five

   Just as Annabel had dreaded, everyone was here - Trent, and Josh, who
had already defiled her on two previous occasions, as well as Drew and
Samantha, who had also borne witness to her humiliation at the pool party.
The only missing member of the old gang was Alisha of course, who,
unbeknown to the others, was now going through her own personal hell at
Nash's cruel hands.  But worst of all, Bobby, her ex-boyfriend, was also
present, and was now regarding her with an expression of sneering contempt.

   Why is he here?  Annabel moaned inwardly.

   The last time she had been paraded like a performing animal in front of
them at Eddie Yeats' birthday party, Bobby hadn't been there - which was
understandable given the degrading level that the woman he had once loved
had been reduced to.  But today here he was, obviously with Helen's
blessing, a willing spectator to yet more of Annabel's pain and
degradation.

   Now of, course, since Nash had forced Annabel to dump him, Bobby had
become Helen's boyfriend.  Seeing him now, Annabel felt a stab of jealousy,
knowing that while she was forced to share ugly old Nash's bed each night,
Helen and Bobby had been dating like a smart, regular couple.

   "Well, lookee here," Josh smirked.  "It's Cinderella!"

   Despite her best efforts, Annabel could feel her cheeks burning.  She
was becoming accustomed to being made to look and act like a moron, but to
have to perform in front of her old friends again was, she knew, going to
be another huge blow to her already-shattered self-esteem.

   "Did you cut your hair yourself?" Samantha tittered.

   Standing foolishly before them, it finally hit home just how far she had
fallen.  They were all studying her with a mixture of amusement and pity -
the once proud Annabel whom they had all envied was now nothing more than
their submissive plaything, and with a heavy heart she knew that they were
going to get their pound of flesh today.

   Helen, who was still standing beside her, reached across and pinched
Annabel's left nipple through her dress, causing her to flinch.  "Dear me,"
Helen said.  "You're all hard!  Are you excited to be here?"

   Because of her unwanted enhanced libido, Annabel could not dispute the
fact that her nipples were indeed erect - Nash kept her in a constant state
of arousal these days - and the way they were straining against her frock
made it plain for all to see!

   "Not wearing a bra either," Helen noted.  "Do you like showing off your
titties in public?"

   Blushing furiously, Annabel looked at her feet and shook her head.

   "What's that?  We couldn't hear you."

   "No," Annabel mumbled.

   Helen suddenly grabbed Annabel's shorn hair and jerked her face upward.
"You will address me as Mistress Helen from now on!" she snapped.  "And
that goes for everybody else here.  It's either `mistress' or `master', do
you understand?"

   "Ye...  yes, Mistress Helen!" Annabel gasped.

   "Good.  Now I'll ask you again.  Do you like showing off your boobs?"

   It was useless.  There was only one answer that Helen was going to
accept.  Yet again, Annabel was going to have to collaborate in her own
debasement.

   Her eyes stinging, Annabel uttered, "Yes, Mistress Helen."

   "You see?" Helen announced to her keen audience.  "I told you she's
always been a slut."

   Annabel bit her lower lip and tried not to make eye contact with any of
them.  Quite apart from the shame and despair that she was experiencing, to
her horror, she suddenly needed to visit the bathroom.  God forbid that she
should wet herself in front of everybody now!  While she was fretting over
this, Helen produced a pair of scissors from her back pocket and brandished
them in front of Annabel's face.

   "I see you've already made some crude adjustments to your frock," Helen
said, lifting up the ragged hem so that everyone could see Annabel's white
cotton panties.  "So I'm sure you won't mind if I make a couple more."

   It was as much as Annabel could do to keep her hands by her sides as
Helen pulled the front of her dress out and then snipped a hole in it.  As
the material drew back into place, one of Annabel's hardened teats poked
out - much to the mirth of everyone watching.

   Helen then repeated the procedure on the other side, so that now both of
Annabel's nipples were absurdly exposed.  But Helen wasn't done yet. 
Tugging on one of the openings again, she deftly worked the scissors around
until the hole was a good five inches across.  Then she pulled Annabel's
nipple, making her gasp, and worked her entire breast out into the open
air. Helen quickly did the same to Annabel's other breast, leaving them
both bobbing comically free in the open air.

   Trying to block her audience's laughter, Annabel wondered how she was
possibly going to be able to get through this afternoon.  After months of
abuse and torture at the hands of Nash and his cronies, it was still the
public humiliation that hurt her the most.

   "Now," Helen said, "we need to do something about your ridiculous shoes.
Take them off."

   Aware of her naked breasts hanging obscenely downward, Annabel bent and
unbuckled the cheap plastic sandals as instructed.  While she was doing
this, Helen went over to the gravel pathway that encircled the house and
scooped up a handful of small, sharp stones.

   "This will help you to stay focused while you work," Helen said,
dropping several stones into each of the shoes.  "Now you can put them back
on again."

   Miserably, Annabel started to slip her right foot into its sandal, but
Helen said, "Not that one.  Put it into the left shoe."

   Somebody sniggered, and Annabel briefly looked up at Helen, but knowing
that Barclay was on hand to report any acts of disobedience, she
despondently forced her right foot into the wrong shoe.  It took some
effort, and her toes were pinched painfully, but she finally managed to get
it buckled up.  After she had, with equal difficulty, succeeded in
squeezing her left foot into the right shoe, Helen ordered her to
straighten up.  Now there was physical pain to add to her emotional hurt as
the hard pieces of gravel bit into the soft, under flesh of her compacted
feet.

   "God, she looks so stupid," Trent chuckled.

   "Why don't you try them out?" said Helen triumphantly.  "Take a walk
around the pool."

   Feeling their eyes boring into her, Annabel winced as she set of on her
absurd and uncomfortable little journey.  The shoes were so tight around
her toes, that combined with the painful stabs of the stones, she could
manage little more than a tentative hobble.

   "Come on!" Helen called after her as she made her way awkwardly around
the pool.  "You're moving like an old woman!  We haven't got all day!"

   As terrible as this current ordeal already was, Annabel unexpectedly
found herself thinking back to the last time she was here, when Nash had
made her behave like a childish idiot, culminating in her stripping off her
bikini in front of everyone, then being spanked, and finally submitting to
that degrading `spit-roasting' by Trent and Josh.  On that occasion,
everyone had been initially shocked at Annabel's dramatic retardation.  Now
they were all well prepared for it, and were also evidently relishing the
prospect of a long, and for Annabel, miserable afternoon.





   Chapter Eighty-Six

   Helen watched in delight as her onetime rival shuffled around the pool,
her red face etched in pain, and her large, wobbling breasts, ludicrously
poking out of her dress.  In all the years she had spent in Annabel's
shadow, she had never remotely dreamed that she could wield such power over
the formerly stuck-up bitch.  And boy, was she going to make the most of
it!

   She looked around at her friends who were all avidly following Annabel's
labored progress.  Judging from their faces, this new-found power had
conjured up similar sadistic urges.  She had no doubt in her mind that, no
matter how despicable the acts Annabel would be forced to perform today,
nobody was going to object to them.

   Annabel finally completed her circuit of the pool and stood meekly
before her tormentors.  Unable to look any of them in the eye, she kept her
clenched fists by her sides and stared at her comical footwear.

   Helen reclined on the chaise-longue next to Bobby and said, "You are
going to have to work faster than that, you lazy girl.  From now on, you
will carry out your orders at the double.  If you keep anybody waiting too
long, you will suffer the consequences.  Understood?"

   Head down, Annabel nodded, and then remembered to utter, "Yes, Mistress
Helen."

   "And you will always look at whoever you are addressing!" Helen barked.

   Slowly, Annabel raised her face in Helen's direction.  Despite the deep
servile conditioning she had received, there was no denying the slight
glint of venom showing in her eyes.  So much the better as far as Helen was
concerned!

   "Good," Helen said.  "Now come over here and kneel down beside me."

   Annabel nervously approached her ex-friend, and then gingerly dropped to
her knees.  Helen rummaged around in a bag beside her chaise-longue and
produced two little silver bells.  Alastair leaned forward for a better
look and saw that they were both attached to wicked little serrated clips,
which Helen proceeded to attach to each of Annabel's puffed-up nipples. 
Annabel drew in a hiss of breath as each clip bit down on her delicate
nubs, and from the way they were being squeezed flat, Alastair guessed that
her attention had now been momentarily drawn away from her sore and crushed
feet.

   "There," Helen said, patting Annabel on the head.  "Now we can't lose
you.  Consuela has prepared some finger-food, which you will find in the
kitchen.  Bring it out to the patio table."

   Looking almost grateful for the chance to spend a moment away from
everybody's scrutiny, Annabel rose and started to walk gingerly towards the
French windows.

   "Annabel," Helen said, feigning weariness.  "What did I just say about
being lazy?  Run, damn you!"

   *

   As Annabel sped past him, biting her lip from the pain in her tortured
feet, with her tinkling breasts bouncing crazily, Alastair realized that
this just might turn out to be one of Annabel's most terrible ordeals so
far.  Helen was a real bitch, and she was obviously deriving a great deal
of sadistic, and even sexual pleasure from her erstwhile antagonist's
debasement.  He himself was sporting a hard-on that was impossible to
conceal, but if he had guessed correctly, Annabel's `duties' this afternoon
would almost certainly involve erotically servicing all of the men present
at some stage.  All except Bobby, of course - Helen was definitely not
going to allow that!

   While Annabel carried plates of food back and forth between the kitchen
and the pool patio, her ex-peers settled into casual conversation as if
this was any other normal weekend gathering.  Watching them, Alastair
observed that although they were pretending to ignore her, every so often
one or the other would shoot her a furtive look as she passed.  It was a
similar atmosphere to Eddie Yeats' birthday bash prior to Annabel's `dog
and pony' performances - Alastair recognized that they were trying to make
her feel like a worthless nonentity, even though she was in reality the
star attraction.  It was a cruel game of role-play, and despite the fact
that Annabel was the reason they were all here, it was important to keep up
the pretense that she really was nothing more than the hired help.

   In acting out his part as Annabel's chaperone, Alastair felt no need to
join in with their play-acting, and he contented himself with feasting his
eyes on Annabel's absurdly-clad figure as she hurriedly served their food
and drink.  As she jogged around, breathing somewhat heavily now, her
movements became increasingly awkward and jerky as she attempted to
alleviate the pressure on her feet.  This had the effect of making her
exposed breasts bounce around even more wildly than ever, filling the air
with the merry tinkling of her little silver bells.

   *

   The bodily anguish was bad enough - the searing fire in her nipples, the
agonizing stones digging into the soles of her feet, the stabbing pain in
her cruelly squashed toes - but it was their laughter and their juvenile,
mocking remarks that almost succeeding in reducing Annabel to tears.

   "She looks like a little milk cow with those little bells!"

   "Her udders are big enough!"

   "I'd swear they've grown bigger since last time.  I wonder if she's
ready for milking?"

   "Look at her shoes.  Doesn't she know her right from her left?"

   "I always knew she was a bimbo!"

   Intellectually, deep inside of her, she knew that she was the victim
here, but who could deny the truth of their hurtful comments?  With her
ruined hair, her ridiculous dress, her painful, silly-looking plastic
footwear, and her naked, jingling breasts, she really had to look imbecilic
beyond belief!

   And she was allowing them to belittle her, wasn't she?  There was the
promise of money and freedom somewhere in the future - isn't that why she
was in this shameful situation right now?  She did have a choice, didn't
she?  If so, then maybe she deserved everything that they did to her.

   When everybody had received their first drinks, Helen said to her,
"Stand to attention, legs apart and hands behind your head, until somebody
requires your services."

   Under a black cloud of despair, her nipples and feet aching terribly,
and the growing pressure in her bladder reaching worrying proportions,
Annabel humbly complied.  Feeling utterly valueless, she watched her
erstwhile friends chatting contentedly together, a fashionable crowd of
young men and women without a care in the world, of which, once upon a
time, she had been a very central part.





   Chapter Eighty-Seven

   "Hey you, I need a refill!" said Trent, waving his glass.

   Annabel didn't move at first, and by the time she had registered that
she was being summoned, it was too late to avoid Helen seizing the
opportunity.

   "Daydreaming on the job?  I think that calls for a punishment, don't
you, guys?"

   There was a general chorus of assent as Helen rummaged in her bag again,
and then pulled out a red leather flogger.  Alastair could only guess as to
what other kinky delights the bag contained, but it was certainly evident
that Helen had indulged in a little online shopping in preparation for
today's fun and games.

   "Trent, as you are the injured party, would you mind administering the
spanking?"

   "It would be my pleasure," Trent said, taking the flogger.  "Come on
sweetie, bend over."

   Annabel looked aghast at the flogger in his hand, and then pleadingly at
Alastair.

   "Don't look at me," he grinned.  "These good people are you employers
today."

   Her already flushed cheeks turning even redder, Annabel turned around
and half-heartedly offered Trent her rump.

   "Not like that!" Helen snapped.  "Bend right over and touch your toes."

   Annabel let out a barely audible breath, and then did as she was told,
her trimmed dress rising up over her buttocks and exposing her white cotton
panties.

   "Christ!  I'd almost forgotten what a lovely butt you have," Josh
sighed.

   Alastair had to agree that she presented a most delectable sight, with
her ass in the air, and her naked tits dangling in front of her face.  Even
her ex-boyfriend Bobby was leaning in for a closer look!

   "Give her six of the best, Trent," Helen said.  "And make sure she
remembers them."

   There was a loud crack as the six tails of the flogger wrapped
themselves around Annabel's thighs.

   "Ow!" Annabel shrieked, her head coming up and one of her hands reaching
around to her behind.

   "Stay in position," Helen warned her.

   Thwack!

   This time Trent had a better aim, and the leather tails snaked around
Annabel's ass cheeks.  Again, the poor girl howled in pain.  The third and
fourth strokes followed in rapid succession, and now Annabel was shaking
her lovely round ass, her breaths coming in choked sobs.

   Swish!

   Number five landed on her smooth thighs again, leaving behind a series
of pink welts.

   "What do you have to say for yourself, Annabel?" asked Helen.

   "I..  I'm sorry...  for being so lazy..." Annabel sniveled.

   "Good.  It had better not happen again.  Last one, Trent."

   Annabel shrieked out loud once more as Trent delivered the final lash,
and then in a moment of exquisite delight for Alastair, a damp patch
appeared in the crotch of her panties.

   "Oh, fuck!" laughed Samantha.  "She's going to wet herself!"

   Annabel's hand flew back to cover herself but the floodgates had already
opened, and a steady stream of urine erupted from her bladder, running down
her thighs and forming an expanding puddle between her feet.

   Mortified, Annabel straightened up and started to hobble off in the
direction of the house, but Helen shouted, "Hey!  Come back here!"

   Her crimson face streaked with tears, and her hands pressed between her
legs, Annabel came to a halt and looked around desperately.  The stream of
piss had now slowed to a trickle between her fingers, but the insides of
her legs were shiny from her micturition, and she had left an embarrassing
large dark pool on the patio.

   "Oh, no!  No, no, no!" Annabel moaned.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

   "You filthy girl!" Helen smirked.  "Well you can't wear soiled knickers
can you?" Take them off immediately."

   *

   Although this hadn't been a part of Helen's plan today, watching Annabel
unexpectedly disgrace herself in front of everyone fueled her excitement
even further.  Just as when she had witnessed Annabel performing like an
animal at Nash's house, she found herself becoming increasingly stimulated
by her former antagonist's obvious state of mortification.

   "Please, can't I go inside and do it?" Annabel moaned.

   "Absolutely not!" Helen said.  "You deserve to be punished for pissing
on my patio, and I will keep punishing you until you are house-trained! 
Now take them off and hold them up so everybody can see what a disgusting
girl you really are!"

   Looking quite pitiful, Annabel reached behind and slipped her thumbs
into the waistband of her panties.  Then, looking upward to avoid their
faces, she pulled the soaked garment down her thighs and then stepped out
of it.  After a brief delay, she picked it up and held it between thumb and
forefinger.  Her obvious distaste gave Helen another wickedly delicious
idea.

   "Now put them on your head.  Wear them like a hat."

   Annabel looked at her in horror.  "Please, Mistress Helen, don't make me
do that!"

   "If you don't do as I say right now, you'll get another six lashes
across your bare ass."

   Annabel vented another delightfully shuddering sigh, sniffed back her
tears, and then, in front of them all, actually pulled her wet panties down
over the top of her head!  With her breasts sticking out of her dress
adorned with the little bells on her nipples, and her silly plastic shoes
on the wrong feet, she now looked ridiculous beyond words, and the
anguished look in Annabel's lovely blue eyes said it all.

   "Now get back to work," Helen said.  "I need another drink."

   "Me too," said Josh.

   Obviously terrified of incurring further chastisement, Annabel quickly
gathered their glasses and stumbled over to the poolside bar.  When she had
returned with their drinks, Samantha said, "My ashtray is full, Annabel."

   As Annabel picked it up, Helen's sadistic imagination sparked into life
again.  "Where do you think you are going with that?"

   Annabel paused and looked at her in bewilderment.  "I...  I..."

   "Eat it," Helen said with a devilish smile.  "Then lick it clean."

   Trent burst into laughter, nearly spilling his drink, while Annabel
merely stared in disbelief.  For a second, Helen though she might have
tipped her over the edge.  Several expressions seemed to pass across her
face in succession - revulsion followed by a glimmer of anger, then a scowl
of disgust, but finally that now-familiar expression of sad resignation.

   Helen knew that Annabel had never been a smoker, so having to consume
the four cigarette butts in the ashtray would be an even more revolting
experience for her.  The whole group went deathly quiet as Annabel, unable
to keep the look of repulsion off her face, gingerly picked up the first
stub and after a momentary pause, popped it into her mouth.  She grimaced
and swallowed, and Samantha said, "Eew!  Annabel!  That is so disgusting! I
cannot believe you actually ate that!"

   Annabel briefly looked as though she was going to throw up, but she
seemed to manage to get it under control.

   "Hurry up!" Helen beamed.  "Finish your meal!"

   Everybody looked on in repugnance as Annabel slowly and miserably
swallowed the other three butts, one after the other.  Her constantly red
face had taken on a rather pale hue now, and she was unable to prevent
herself from gagging as the last cigarette butt descended into her stomach.
Finally, to a background of groans form her former friends, Annabel stuck
out her little pink tongue, and started to lap up the ash on the bottom of
the tray.





   Chapter Eighty-Eight

   Annabel had been constantly standing for over two hours and her tortured
feet felt as if they were on fire!  When there were no glasses to refill,
instead of allowing her to sit down, Helen had instructed Annabel to stand
perfectly still with her hands behind her head, except for a couple of
occasions when she had been deemed too slow to react to an order and had
been sent on an agonizing trot around the back lawn.  As her underwear had
dried out, to Annabel's shame it had started to give off a rather
unpleasant fishy odor, and Helen had ordered her to remove it and rinse it
under the outside faucet.  Now, as the sun started to sink and it started
to get cooler, the group decided to move back inside.

   "Annabel, take the dishes and glasses into the kitchen and wash them,
then join us in the dining room," Helen said.

   Even as accustomed as she now was to taking orders, Annabel still
inwardly bridled at Helen's offhand manner.  Who did she think she was? 
Even so, there was no question of disobeying or showing any sign of dissent
with Barclay watching.  As with all the other indignities she had suffered
so far, she knew she would just have to endure this awful day as well -
otherwise all of her efforts so far would have been for nothing.

   She loaded everything up onto a tray and took it into the kitchen. 
Apart from the pain in her feet and nipples, her legs were aching now and
she desperately wanted to sit down for a while.  On top of that, despite
drinking from the kitchen sink, she couldn't get rid of the horrible taste
of ash in her mouth!

   As she washed the dishes, she listened to them taking in the other room.
Along with her conflicting states of shame and arousal, a vague sense of
unreality had now enveloped her.  A few months ago, she would have been
sitting there with them, sharing their jokes and gossip and enjoying the
envious glances of Trent and Josh while she snuggled up next to Bobby.

   Now she was nothing more than their menial, and worse, the target of
their verbal and physical abuse.  So far, apart from making her expose her
breasts, her mistreatment hadn't involved anything of a sexual nature, but
she was sure that would come soon.  The boys in particular had been
drinking quite heavily all afternoon, which did not bode well!

   "Annabel, hurry up will you?" Helen yelled from the living room.  "We're
ready to start the game!"

   Annabel's stomach tightened and she drew a deep breath.  Game?  That
doesn't sound good.

   Then she hung up the dishcloth and hobbled painfully and anxiously into
the living room.

   *

   Alastair watched with interest as Helen laid out her kinky props on the
coffee table.  Clearly the young lady had been putting a lot of thought
into Annabel's trials and tribulations today.  He thought back to the times
she had visited Pemberton Hall as Annabel's friend, and it reminded him
that you never really knew what was going on in other people's minds.  Yes,
he had observed that they had been rivals, constantly jousting with each
other in a fake-friendly manner, but he had never realized the depth of
animosity that Helen had been carrying all this time.  She had already
stolen Annabel's boyfriend, but she was evidently far from satisfied, and
it looked as though it was her intention to destroy Annabel's spirit as
well as her reputation.

   Annabel appeared apprehensively before them, her face beginning to glow
from embarrassment again.  Her tits still poked ludicrously out of her
dress, her pink nipples decorated with the tinkling bell-clamps, and her
feet remained squeezed the wrong way around into those ugly plastic shoes.
He glanced around at the rest of the audience, and noted the same sexually
charged excitement in their eyes as before.  Even Bobby, despite the smirk
of contempt of his lips, couldn't take his eyes off his ex-girlfriend.

   "We're going to play a little game now, Annabel," Helen said.  "You'd
like to play a game, wouldn't you?"

   Annabel looked at her, looking both puzzled and fearful.  She had become
accustomed to a variety of sordid `games' under Nash's tutelage, none of
them pleasant for her.

   "Answer me."

   "Yes, Mistress Helen," Annabel said, and Samantha tittered, evidently
still unable to get used to Annabel's new submissive position in their
lives.

   "Good," Helen said.  "This game is designed to test your obedience.  I'm
going to set you a few simple tasks.  If you don't complete one, you will
have to pay a forfeit instead."

   She gestured to a glass bowl in the middle of the coffee table, which
was filled with slips of paper.  "Myself and the boys have already decided
on the forfeits, but as I am a kind mistress, I will allow you to chose
them yourself."

   Annabel's eyes wandered anxiously over the array of sex toys and other
items littering the table, her expression becoming visibly more distressed.

   "Of course, if you don't want to pay the forfeits, simply carry out each
task as requested," Helen smiled.  "It's entirely up to you.  Are you ready
to begin?"

   As it was a rhetorical question, Annabel watched silently as Helen
picked up an empty beer bottle and walked over to the far end of the living
room.  When she returned to the sofa, Helen said, "We'll start with a
simple one.  I want you to remove your dress and then pick up that bottle -
with your pussy!"





   Chapter Eighty-Nine

   Annabel stood motionless, her eyes fixed upon a large pink dildo on the
table poking rudely up in the air.  There was other bondage equipment too,
cuffs, gags, hoods, whips and canes, most of which she had already been
unfortunate to have become quite familiar with over the past three months,
as well a bowl of eggs, and a rather large banana whose purpose she didn't
even want to think about!  What the hell was this?  Had Helen been taking
lessons from Nash?

   "If you don't do it now, I'll take that as a forfeit," Helen said,
snapping her out of her hypnotic daze.  Annabel had no idea what was
written on the slips of paper, but if Trent and Josh had been adding their
input, she had a pretty good idea.  As repugnant as her `task' was, it
would be infinitely preferable to submitting to those two sex-crazed
animals again!

   Inadvertently catching Bobby's eye, Annabel felt her cheeks getting
hotter as she pulled the dress up over her head and let it fall to the
carpet.  Absurdly, she reflexively put her hands between her legs to cover
her bare crotch.

   "Don't be such a prude!" Trent laughed.  "We've seen it before, and
besides, you're going to need it in a minute."

   Awash with shame, Annabel knew that if she didn't get the disgusting
deed over with soon, she would have to draw a forfeit from the bowl.  Now
wearing nothing but the bell-clips on her nipples and her painful plastic
shoes, Annabel turned away from them and squatted over the bottle.  Then,
feeling like a cheap whore, she reached between her legs and parted her
labia, which, adding to her mortification, were wet and swollen.  This was
in no way of course due to any enjoyment on her part, merely her
treacherous body's reaction to whatever artificial stimulus Nash was lacing
her food with.

   As the neck of the bottle slid into her vagina, she heard Josh say, "I
once saw a sex show like this," which drew another round of hurtful
laughter.

   Now came the hard part.  When she had received the length of the neck,
she removed her hands and squeezed her vaginal muscles, praying that she
would have the strength to hold it in place.  Then she gradually
straightened her legs and, her embarrassment mingling with a sense of
relief, managed to raise the bottle off the ground.

   "What a slut!" Bobby muttered, his familiar voice driving home the fact
that she was actually standing naked in front of her former peers with a
beer bottle stuck up between her legs!

   "Now I want you to carry it across to the other side of the room," Helen
said, adding, "and if you drop it, you draw a forfeit."

   With a slight whimper, Annabel shuffled clumsily around, thighs apart,
her vaginal wall clenched around the glass neck of the bottle.  She could
already feel it slipping due to the excessive lubrication inside her, and
as she took the first ponderous step, she instinctively knew that she
wasn't going to make it.

   "I hope you're not going to disobey me," Helen said.

   "Look at her cunt!" said Josh.  "She's sopping!"

   "She must be enjoying herself," said Drew.

   Why are they being so cruel?  Annabel thought.  Did they really always
hate me this much?

   As she attempted another step, she felt the bottle slip a bit further.
One more and she would lose it, and then she would have to draw one of the
dreaded slips of paper from the bowl.  Realization quickly dawned upon her
that Helen had no intention of letting her complete any of the so-called
`tasks', and that, just as with Nash and his cronies, she was in for a long
evening of humiliation and sexual abuse again.

   Resignation and despair swept over her as she inched forward, and sure
enough, the unfaithful bottle slipped out of her body and bounced onto the
carpet.

   "Annabel!" Helen said, her eyes glowing with sadistic pleasure.  "You
disobeyed me!"

   "She wants the forfeit," Drew laughed.  "She's horny!"

   Annabel closed her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her up. 
Despite all of the physical, sexual, and mental anguish she had endured so
far, she knew she would never, ever, get used to being humbled so
completely like this in front of all of her old friends.

   Helen stirred the slips of paper in the bowel, and said, "Pick one, and
read it out aloud."

   *

   With trembling fingers, Annabel reached into the bowl and picked out the
first paper slip she touched.  She knew it didn't matter which forfeit she
picked because they were all likely to be equally repugnant.

   Her eyes ran across the words but she failed to register their meaning.
She was suddenly acutely aware of how absurd she must look, standing naked
before them with the little bells on her nipples, about to read out her
vile request.

   "Well?" Helen said.  "Have you forgotten how to read?"

   Annabel tried to focus on the paper, aware in her peripheral vision of
their eyes boring into her, each of them savoring her total downfall.  As
with all of her previous degrading trials, she knew that she was going to
do this, because that nebulous day of freedom and wealth some nine months
down the line was all that she had left to cling to.

   Almost inaudibly, she mumbled, "Trent...  please may I...?"

   As her voice faltered, Helen said, "May you what?  Speak up!"

   Annabel cleared her throat, the injustice of it all once again making
her want to scream.  Even though she hadn't written these words down, she
was the one vocalizing them, and even though they all knew that it was
under duress, it would still appear as if she was expressing herself
willingly.  Like Nash, this was the way Helen wanted it - Annabel appearing
to act as if she really was a common hussy.

   "Trent," she began again.  "Please may I suck your cock and swallow your
cum?"





   Chapter Ninety

   "Annabel!  Really!" Samantha tittered.

   Definitely not for the first time, Alastair felt his cock thickening in
his pants.  Even though he had witnessed Annabel being placed in so many
different humiliating and degrading situations in recent months, it never
failed to excite him when this former arrogant young heiress was forced to
behave like a filthy whore.

   It also occurred to him that some preplanning had been put into this,
because the normally eager Trent, merely said, "Excuse me?"

   Annabel glanced helplessly at Helen and then repeated her request.

   "Why do you want to give me a blowjob?" Trent asked casually.

   A rapt silence descended as everyone watched Annabel writhing with
embarrassment.  Not only was she going to be ravished physically, but
mentally too.  She was going to have to perform an act that she found
abhorrent but she was also going to have to beg for it!

   "Are you a nympho, is that it?" Trent said.

   This was too much!  Over the previous few years Alastair had watched
many hopeful young men -Trent included - trying to flirt with the
unobtainable Miss Annabel from Pemberton Hall, knowing deep down that she
was way out of their league.  Now here she was having to explain why she
wanted to suck Trent's dick in front of everybody!

   "Say it," Helen said.  "Tell Trent what a horny bitch you are."

   Eyes shimmering, Annabel said, "I...  I'm a horny bitch..."

   "And?"

   "And..  and I want...  please may I...  suck your cock?"

   A quick glance at Trent's bulging crotch told Alastair that he was more
than ready to receive Annabel's services, but still her agony continued.

   "I'm not convinced," Trent said.  "Say it like you mean it."

   Annabel looked at him, her face a mask of misery.  Then, to Alastair's
utter joy, she dropped to her knees and blurted out, "Please Master Trent,
I am a dirty cunt and I would love to suck your cock!"

   It was a defining moment, totally unexpected, and one which underlined
Annabel's complete and final fall from grace.  You could have heard a pin
drop before Trent sighed dramatically, "Okay, if you must."

   Despite the obvious pantomime that was unfolding, Annabel's emotional
pain had created a sizzling electrical charge amongst her onlookers.  As
Annabel freed Trent's rigid member and enveloped his cockhead with her
lips, Alastair looked around and didn't see one sympathetic expression in
the room.

   *

   Filled with shame and self-loathing, Annabel took the full length of
Trent's penis into her mouth, feeling its soft skin moving against her
tongue while she relaxed her throat as Nash had taught her.  Even though
she was performing this hateful act in front of all of her ex-friends,
there was nothing she could do to stop the warm rush as her deceitful body
reacted to the physical contact.

   She heard Trent sigh as she moved her head up and down on his shaft, and
Josh said, "Damn, she's good!  Did she ever do this with you, Bobby?"

   "Uh-uh," Bobby said in disgust.  "She always said it was too demeaning
for her."

   "What?  She's loving every minute of it!  That's not just a blowjob. 
She's deep-throating him!"

   Annabel's ears were burning now as they discussed her whilst she
continued with this most intimate and personal of acts.  The most awful
part was that everything they were saying was true.  Prior to falling under
Nash's control, she had been relatively naïve about sex.  Now she was an
expert `cocksucker' as Nash liked to call her.  But none of this made her
ordeal any easier.  Physically, they may have transformed her into a whore,
but deep inside she was still the same proud Annabel, and no matter how
many times she publicly dishonored herself, it never got any easier.

   To add to her torment, her own arousal was now building to a crescendo,
and as she felt Trent's thigh muscles tightening under the palms of her
hands, she knew to her dismay, that she was going to climax when he did.

   As she felt his cock twitch in her throat, a shuddering orgasm swept
through her and she uttered a muted groan around his shaft.  Trent also
cried out, jerking his hips as his hot seed shot into Annabel's esophagus.
She gulped greedily, nostrils flaring as she struggled for air.  Another
salvo of Trent's sticky issue was expelled down Annabel's throat and into
her stomach, as a second unwelcome orgasm pulsed through her body.

   Annabel stayed where she was, slumped forward on her knees with Trent's
wilting penis still in her mouth.  While her ecstasy faded, acutely aware
of what she had just done in front of them all she was terrified of
disengaging herself and having to face them.

   A long moment passed in silence, and then Bobby said, "'Demeaning', huh?
What a slut!"

   Annabel let out a muffled sob into Trent's crotch.  There was no point
in protesting - her bodily pleasure had been obvious to them all.  Her face
flushed and damp with tears, Annabel withdrew Trent's now-flaccid dick from
her mouth.  She could feel all eyes upon her, and desperately wanted to
flee the room, but she was now so well-conditioned that she remained on her
knees, subservient and ashamed.

   Finally Helen said, "Well now that you've had your fun, perhaps you'd be
kind enough to refill everybody's glasses, and then you can try performing
another simple task."





   Chapter Ninety-One

   Helen was being utterly ruthless!  After watching Annabel expertly
sucking Trent off, Alastair was once again filled with pent-up desire.  But
as was usually the case with Nash, the order of events were today being
dictated by Helen, and he could only wait in hope that his name might be
included somewhere in that glass bowl.

   Alastair had borne witness to some bizarre and kinky scenes since
meeting Darius Nash, but a surreal atmosphere cloaked him as he listened to
this attractive crowd chatting and drinking merrily while their tormented
ex-friend stood naked before them.

   Annabel was standing with her knees slightly bent and her tortured feet
pointing outwards at a hundred and eighty degrees.  Her arms were also
stretched out to the side, level with her shoulders and palms facing down,
upon which Helen had balanced two shooter glasses full of water.  To
complete her absurd pose, another tumbler of water rested on the top of
Annabel's head.

   Her mission this time was to stay absolutely still for twenty minutes
without spilling any of the water.  She had been in the humiliating
position for just three minutes and already her arms were beginning to
tremble.  A cute little frown creased her brow as she battled to
concentrate.

   Poor thing!  Alastair thought.  She really is trying to avoid another
forfeit!

   As usual, he visually devoured her nakedness, her narrow waist and flat
belly, the curve of her hips and thighs, her prominent, hairless vulva with
its pouting lips, and her perfectly shaped breasts.  Despite her comical
and humbling posture, the degrading little bells clinging to her nipples,
and her badly cut hair, she remained a beauty to behold, a luscious sight
that Alastair would never grow tired of.

   "Be careful," Josh said.  "Your arms are dropping.  You're going to lose
the glasses."

   A tiny grunt escaped Annabel's lips as she strove to keep her arms
level. Alastair drank in the anguished look in her lovely blue eyes as her
face turned a deeper shade of scarlet with the sustained effort.

   Helen looked at her watch.  "Five minutes.  Only fifteen more to go."

   Her words were not intended to be an encouragement of course, merely a
reminder of how much more pain Annabel was going to have to suffer if she
was to escape more sexual humiliation.  Annabel whimpered, her arms and
knees now visibly shaking.  It was patently obvious that she wasn't going
to make it, and yet she was giving it her all!  Such was her fear of Nash
by now, that even though she was in a no-win situation, she still felt
obliged to go through with these absurd and meaningless tasks!

   She lasted one more minute before, with a cry of frustration, her aching
arms dipped, and the two shooter glasses fell onto the carpet.  There was a
general hum of mock disapproval in the room before Helen tutted,
"Disobeying again?  Whatever will Mr.  Nash say?  Come on then.  Pick a
another forfeit."

   In a moment of confusion, Annabel forgot about the tumbler on her head,
and as she leaned forward to select another slip of paper from the bowl, it
landed on the coffee table, splashing Helen, before bouncing, unbroken,
onto the floor.

   "Oh!" Annabel gasped.  "I'm sorry, Mistress Helen!"

   Helen shook her head.  "Disobedient.  No bladder control.  Clumsy and
stupid.  You really are damaged goods, aren't you?  Barclay, you can tell
Mr.  Nash that I'm quite disappointed with his maid's service today."

   "I'll be sure to inform Mr.  Nash of Annabel's failings," Alastair said,
and as he watched the stricken girl select another forfeit from the bowl,
it was as much as he could do not to whip out his cock and start jerking of
right there and then!

   *

   Annabel read the forfeit with a sinking heart, but in the knowledge that
there was to be no mercy, forced herself to read the disgusting and
ridiculous message out loud.  "I want to drink six raw eggs whilst
masturbating with a banana."

   The items in question had been sitting innocuously on the coffee table
amid the array of sex toys, and now that she knew their purpose, she caught
herself wondering who had dreamed up this perverted little exercise. 
Surely not Helen?

   "Oh God, Annabel!" Samantha shrieked.  "What a sick mind you've got!  I
had no idea!"

   Annabel almost protested out loud, `It's not me!  They wrote this vile
stuff!' But instead, wretchedly accepting her fate, she waited uncertainly
for Helen to say something else before hesitatingly reaching for the
banana.

   "Look at her!" Drew sneered.  "She can't wait to put it up her cunt!"

   The banana was about eight inches long, firm and curved, and a good inch
and a half in diameter.  Despite everything she had done, she couldn't
believe that she was actually going to insert this into her vagina in front
of them all!  And yet, her hands acting as if by their own accord, she shut
her eyes, parted her thighs, spread her puffy labia with her fingers, and
then pushed the tip of the banana inside her body.  As she worked it
further in, she heard Helen say, "Josh, would you mind breaking the eggs
for Annabel?"

   To her chagrin, her well-lubricated pussy accommodated the intruding
fruit with ease, and to make matters worse, an uninvited tingle of pleasure
ran down her spine as she shoved it up deeper between her legs.

   She heard Josh cracking the eggs and as she reluctantly started to move
the banana in and out of her pussy, she opened her eyes in time to see him
raising a pint glass filled with raw eggs, the yolks bobbing around like
yellow ping pong balls.  Annabel had never eaten one raw egg in her life,
let alone half a dozen, and she wondered apprehensively if she was going to
be able to keep them down.

   Josh approached her with the glass and she could smell the alcohol on
his breath.  "Open up, you naughty girl!" he grinned, raising the rim to
her lips.

   Her distress now matching the disgraceful arousal between her legs,
Annabel obeyed, and as she allowed the first yolk into her mouth, she
instantly knew that she wasn't going to be able to do this.

   "Keep moving it down there," Helen reminded her, and with her right hand
guiding the banana up and down, Annabel tried to swallow.  It was the
texture more than the taste that made her gag, although somehow she managed
to keep the slimy yolk down, letting it mingle with the ash, cigarette
butts, and semen already floating around in her queasy stomach.  Despite
her success, Josh kept pouring the viscous fluid into her mouth, and unable
to keep up, Annabel couldn't help but allow some of it trickle down her
chin and over her naked breasts.

   "Utterly hopeless!" Helen mocked.

   A second yolk slipped into her gullet and Annabel retched again, before
snorting two yellow lines of goo out of her nostrils.  Josh pinched her
nose, forcing her mouth open, and tilted the glass further.  More and more
of the foul egg-yolks entered Annabel's mouth, one of them escaping as she
hawked and choked.

   "She's let go of the banana!" said Samantha.

   "Trent, go and help Josh!" said Helen.

   All Annabel could focus on was trying to swallow the revolting eggs, and
she gripped Josh's arms with both hands, but now she could feel the banana
moving inside her again, and even though her face was raised, she realized
that Trent must be crouching between her legs.

   As she felt the warmth gathering towards a second excruciatingly
shameful orgasm in front of them all, she gagged again, this time letting
the yellow mess cascade over her chest and down her torso.  Josh stepped
away to avoid the sticky shower and Annabel fell backwards onto her elbows,
her hips bucking as Trent valiantly kept hold of the invading banana stuck
between her legs.





   Chapter Ninety-Two

   An air of insanity had gripped the room.  Helen had a feverish look in
her eyes and Samantha and Drew were laughing manically as Trent, also
apparently out of control, whipped the banana out of Annabel's cunt and
unzipped his fly.  Alastair just had time to glimpse the wet, pink interior
of her pussy before Trent frantically shoved his cock inside.  As he began
to steadily thrust into Annabel, he reached down and started massaging
Annabel's breasts, coating them liberally with the excess slime.

   Annabel had been brought to the point of orgasm by the banana and it
didn't take long before Trent's increasingly rapid stabs sent her over the
top again.  Her chest and face now all slick and shiny, she arched her back
and, throwing one arm over her eyes, uttered a guttural moan which
gradually escalated into a high-pitched wail.  A moment later, Trent
grunted and tensed, his fingers gripping the little bells attached to
Annabel's nipples, pulling them up and stretching her breasts into
elongated cones.

   As their climaxes dwindled, Trent pulled roughly out of her, causing
Annabel to gasp.  Wiping his sticky hands on her thighs, Trent stood and
abruptly headed off to the bathroom to clean up.  Annabel remained where
she was, defiled and dirtied in every sense, still hiding her face in
shame, her shoulders gently shaking.

   It had been such a bestial display that at first nobody knew what to
say. Such was her state of angst that Annabel hadn't even had the propriety
to close her legs, affording them all with a clear view of her juicy,
shaved cunt.

   Trent returned from the bathroom looking a little sheepish, and Helen
said to him, "Trent honey, could you fetch that bottle of tequila from the
drinks cabinet?"

   Turning her attention to Annabel's prone, still slightly breathless
form, she said, "It just occurred to me that Annabel hasn't anything to
drink."

   "Unless you include that pint of raw eggs!" Drew laughed.

   "Let's see if she can still take her liquor," Helen said.  "Stand up,
Annabel."

   Slowly, Annabel pulled herself up into a sitting position, pulling her
knees together as she realized how brazenly she had been exposing herself
to everyone.  Then, with some effort, she rose unsteadily to her feet.  It
looked to Alastair as though the physical travails of her day were starting
to take their toll.  However, Helen still had plenty more games of torment
up her sleeve!

   *

   Her stomach churning with the odious mixture of cigarette butts, ash,
and raw eggs, Annabel watched forlornly as Helen laid a tape measure along
the carpet, and then handed her one of the shooter glasses that she had
earlier dropped on the floor.  Uncapping the bottle of tequila, Helen
announced, "Now Annabel's is going to take the sobriety test."

   She filled the glass in Annabel's shaking hand and said, "This shouldn't
be too difficult - even for a dolt like you.  Drink up."

   Annabel was too exhausted to be offended at this latest insult.  She was
more concerned with the nasty drink she was about to consume.  In her
previously cosseted existence, she hadn't been much of a drinker, although
she had occasionally been known to get a little tipsy on cocktails or
expensive champagne.  She had never been interested in hard liquor however,
and the one time she had merely smelled tequila had made her retch.  Now
Helen was forcing her to knock back a whole shooter glassful!  She
remembered from Nash's dreadful strip poker night that this potent drink
was supposed to be accompanied by a wedge of lime and a dash of salt, but
sadistically, Helen was going to make her swallow this neat.

   Figuring it to be the least painful approach, Annabel raised to glass to
her lips and knocked it back in one go.  She let out a spluttering gasp as
the fiery liquid burned down her throat, making her eyes water.

   Oh, God!  That was vile!

   With an unexpected surge of pride, Annabel managed to keep the shot
down, although she immediately felt giddy.  Emboldened by the warm glow
rapidly spreading through her body, Annabel glared at Helen defiantly.

   "Like that, did you?" Helen smiled.  "In that case, have another."

   Annabel's bravado quickly gave way to alarm.  Another?  Surely she
wouldn't be able to hold any more of it down?  With the revolting contents
of her stomach mingling together, she was feeling decidedly queasy. 
Despite all of the depraved acts she had already been forced to undertake,
the thought of vomiting on Helen's carpet in front of her former friends
would be unthinkable!

   Nevertheless she watched helplessly as Helen refilled her glass, while
behind her Josh cackled, "Annabel's getting drunk!  This is going to be so
cool!"

   With no chance of escape, Annabel decided to get it over with as quickly
as possible, and chugged the second glass straight down.  Again, she
grimaced as the tequila scorched her throat.  Her whole body felt flushed
as the alcohol surged through her veins, and she suddenly felt as if she
was floating six inches above the carpet.

   She heard Trent say, "How are you feeling, Annabel?" and then Samantha
giggled.

   As if by magic, a third glass of tequila was in Annabel's hand now, and
for some reason, Annabel poked her tongue out at Helen before knocking the
drink back.  She wobbled in her painful plastic shoes, and put her hand on
Helen's shoulder to steady herself.  She was aware of laughter in the room,
but for the first time that day, she didn't really care.

   "Another?" Helen said, pouring from the bottle and handing Annabel the
glass again.

   "I'd be careful if I were you, Helen," Samantha said.  "She looks like
she's about to throw up!"

   Annabel turned awkwardly and slurred, "Fuck you, Sam!"

   "Oh-oh!" Josh laughed.  "Cinderella's getting bold!"

   Without replying, Annabel snatched the glass and tipped its burning
contents down her throat, but when she handed the glass back, she
deliberately dropped it before Helen could reach it.

   "Annabel!" Helen scolded, unable to keep the grin off her face.  "You
are behaving very badly!  And you know what happens to naughty girls, don't
you?"

   Annabel nodded, hiccupped, and took an involuntary step backwards. 
"Naughty girlsh...  getsh punished!"

   Helen retrieved the glass and topped it up again.  "Come on, one more
and then we'll see how well you can hold your alcohol."





   Chapter Ninety-Three

   As Annabel gulped down her fifth consecutive neat tequila, Alastair
massaged his erection inside his pants.  Unlike the rest of them, he hadn't
had much to drink, but he had become totally intoxicated by the sexually
charged madness that had gripped these young folk around him.

   Power corrupts, he thought.  And absolute power corrupts absolutely.  Or
something like that.

   But wasn't that what this was all about?  Total control over a fellow
human being, free reign to inflict upon her whatever perverted tortures
they could dream up with impunity.  During the day, at work or college,
these attractive, refined young adults would surely be well behaved models
of decorum.  Now just look at them!  Here was their ex-friend, not too long
ago the very best of them, now naked, humiliated, defiled, and utterly
helpless - and they were feeding off her debasement like vampires!

   Annabel swayed unsteadily, clearly inebriated, her face, breasts and
belly smeared with raw eggs, her face again taking on a slightly greenish
tone.  The poor girl had such a disgusting concoction swilling around her
guts, Samantha's prediction about vomiting had to be due to materialize
quite soon!

   Helen capped the tequila bottle and placed it at one end of the tape
measure, and then said, "I want you to put your finger on the top of the
bottle, and walk around it three times."

   "Oh, fuck!" Bobby couldn't help but laugh.  "Helen, you are one piece of
work!"

   Annabel wobbled for a moment as she processed this odd command, before
finally leaning down with her index finger daintily extended.  As ludicrous
as she looked, naked and bent over with the little bells chiming from her
hanging nipples, Alastair's eyes roved greedily over her body, catching a
rear-view glimpse of the soft, damp petals between her thighs.

   It took her two attempts to even locate the top of the bottle, but she
got there eventually and then began to unsteadily circle the bottle.  After
she had completed her third circuit, Helen said, "Okay, now stand up and
try to walk in a line along the tape."

   As soon as Annabel straightened up, a look of alarm crossed her pretty
features and she put one hand against the wall while the other came up to
cover her mouth.

   "Oh shit!  She's going to blow!" said Josh, leaning back into the sofa.

   Indeed, for an awful moment it looked as though Annabel was about to
puke, but instead, when she opened her mouth, she emitted a long,
unladylike belch.

   "Gross!  Whatever would Aunt Sissy say?" said Samantha.

   Even in her disoriented state, Alastair could see the embarrassment in
Annabel's eyes as laughter again filled the room.

   "Walk the line," Helen reminded her, and after recovering a semblance of
control, Annabel pushed away from the wall.  Her head must have been in a
terrible spin however, because after a tentative first step, she staggered
sideways, cannoned into the drinks cabinet, and then slid onto the floor.

   "Try again," Helen said heartlessly.

   With a little sob of frustration, Annabel attempted to stand up, but
losing her balance once again, she slumped forward onto all floors, her
musical tits jiggling beneath her.  Shaking her head in an apparent attempt
to clear it, Annabel bravely continued with her pointless quest by crawling
on her hands and knees towards the tape measure.  When she reached it, she
awkwardly rose into an unseemly crouching position, knees wide apart,
displaying her smooth crotch.  But when she attempted to stand, she
immediately fell backwards, her legs flying up in the air much to the
amusement of her sadistic audience.  Finally defeated, Annabel remained
where she was, breasts heaving, thighs spread, with her fingers pressed up
against her eyes.

   *

   "Stand up Annabel, and choose your next forfeit," Helen said.

   Oh, please leave me alone!  I just want to go to sleep.

   Through her drunken haze, Annabel's focus returned to her throbbing feet
and nipples, and without considering the consequences, she angrily plucked
the nipple clamps off and flung them across the room.

   "Annabel!" Helen said.  "Who said you could do that?  Do you want to get
punished again?"

   As the blood returned to her cruelly squeezed nubs, Annabel gasped
loudly.  The excruciating pain brought her a modicum of clarity, and
reacting instinctively to Helen's threat of retribution, she maneuvered
herself up into a sitting position.  She gazed around blurrily, and then
deciding that it was still too soon to attempt to stand, she again crawled
on all fours toward the coffee table.  Then she rose shakily up onto her
knees and dipped her hand into the hateful glass bowl.

   She blinked as she tried to decipher the words, and it took a moment to
realize that she was holding the slip of paper upside down.  Then,
mustering as much concentration as she could, Annabel read out, "I... 
wash...  I wanna cock in eshry ole."

   Helen said, "Annabel, you're slurring.  Could you please repeat yourself
more clearly?"

   Suddenly feeling foolish again, Annabel slowly enunciated the sentence
again.  "I...  want a cock in every...  hole."

   "Whore!" Bobby muttered, and Annabel looked up in horror as she realized
what she had just said - in her alcoholic fuddle, she had briefly forgotten
that he was still here witnessing her ruination.

   "Explain what you mean by that," Helen said.

   Annabel wavered in front of them.  As drunk as she was, she still
comprehended what Helen was doing - Annabel was going to have to spell it
out, and in doing so she would lend credence to the illusion that she was
the architect of these depraved forfeits.  Fortunately, her current state
of inebriation had a slight numbing effect on the continual shame she was
experiencing, so she managed to say, "I want a cock in my cunt, one up my
asshole, and another in my mouth - all at the same time!"

   "Really, Annabel!" Samantha said.  "You're getting worse and worse!"

   Annabel had to admit that she had even surprised herself with the ease
in which she had come out with such an obscene request, and she figured she
had the tequila to thank for that.

   "And who do you want to perform this orgy with?" Helen asked.

   Even in her befuddled state, Annabel knew that this was a no-brainer -
asking her former sweetheart, Bobby, was out of the question, which left
only the three other remaining men in the room.

   "Trent, Josh...  and Mr.  Barclay," Annabel answered, feeling more than
a little disconcerted at the way her tortured nipples were already
hardening at the prospect.

   "Well, you'd better ask them nicely then."





   Chapter Ninety-Four

   Stark naked, other than her silly plastic shoes, Annabel mumbled her
lewd request.  Alastair could see that her pink nipples were erect, and her
labia, plump and wet.  As intoxicated as she was, he tried to gauge what
her state of mind could be right now.  Certainly, she had just come out
with some brazenly foul-mouthed words, something that she normally had
great difficulty with.  She had also displayed a couple of minor acts of
defiance - something Alastair thought Darius and Mrs.  Craddock had crushed
out of her months ago.  He wondered how she might be feeling about that
after her `Dutch courage' wore off later.

   Alastair was disconcerted to see that Trent and Josh, if anything even
drunker than Annabel, were already stripping off, displaying their
well-chiseled torsos, and muscular legs.  At his advanced age, Alastair had
no intention of getting naked in front of these young folk, no matter how
much he wanted to join in the fun.

   As the boys peeled off their underwear, Helen turned towards him. 
"Aren't you going to join in, Barclay?"

   Alastair saw Samantha looking at him with an amused expression and he
felt himself blushing.  "I hardly think..."

   "Annabel asked for you," Helen said gently.  "Why don't you take care of
her mouth and let those two horny studs do the rest?"

   Why the hell not?  Alastair thought.  He had previously taken a Cialis
as a precautionary measure, even though had never previously failed to
perform whenever Annabel's delightful charms were on offer.  He downed the
remains of his drink and went over the center of the room where Josh was
lying on his back with Annabel crouching over his dick.  Trent, with a
brand new youthful erection sticking up at an acute angle, had maneuvered
behind her, and holding her by the waist, was slowly bending her forward.

   Even though he had never participated in a foursome before, it took
little imagination for Alastair to figure out his position.  Unzipping
himself he pulled out his rigid member and then moved around towards
Annabel's face.  She looked up at him with unfocused eyes and then gave out
a small grunt of surprise as Trent started to penetrate her asshole whilst
simultaneously lowering her onto Josh's waiting cock below.

   Annabel braced her hands against Alastair's thighs as her luscious lips
formed a perfect circle and then enveloped his bell end.

   *

   Through closed eyes, Annabel could see bright flashes as someone in the
room - probably Helen - saved this pornographic act for prosperity.  That
was the least of her concerns as she was currently being overwhelmed by a
multitude of conflicting sensations.  She still felt slightly nauseous, and
each time Barclay's swollen glans prodded against the back of her throat,
she had to fight the urge to gag.  Meanwhile, below and behind her, Josh
and Trent had filled her up to overflowing with their rock-hard penises. 
She could feel them both throbbing inside her, separated only by her thin
dividing vaginal wall.

   Trent had his hands on her breasts, adding to the assault on her senses
by roughly pinching her sore nipples.  To add to her confusion, Josh was
rubbing her clitoris with her thumb, and her super-sensitive body was
responding with compound interest!

   With the three men pressed up so closely, she began to feel a little
claustrophobic and tried to pull her face away from Barclay's groin, but he
had a hand clamped firmly behind her neck, keeping her tightly locked in
the vulgar four-way embrace.

   As her passion built, a little voice started up in her head, and Annabel
recognized it through its pompous, self-assured, condescending tone, as her
own.

   What have you become?  You are having sex with three men at the same
time in front of an audience!  People you have known for years!  When this
is all over, you will never be able to face them again.  And even if you do
start over somewhere new, they will still have these memories of you.  In
their minds, you will forever remain Annabel, the dirty whore!

   Even as her former self put her to shame, Annabel's disobedient,
libidinous body took total control, and she ground her crotch deep onto
Josh's shaft, and at the same time, squeezed her sphincter around Trent's
embedded cock, while allowing Barclay's rod deeper into her throat.

   Trent lost it first, tugging hard on Annabel's nipples as his seed
exploded into her rectum.  Feeling his hot rush, Annabel quivered with the
first pulses of her own orgasm.  Above her, Barclay moaned and Annabel
snorted through her nostrils as she received another viscous salvo straight
down her esophagus.

   Squealing like a stuck pig, Annabel felt her climax sweeping through
her, and seconds later she accepted Josh's sticky deposit up into her womb.
They jerked and groaned together before Annabel's knees finally buckled and
she allowed Barclay's dick to slip out of her mouth before collapsing
forward so that she was sandwiched between the two younger men.

   Exhausted, she lay between them, feeling their hearts pounding on either
side of her sticky, sweaty body.  As her euphoria subsided, she heard Bobby
say, "Dear God, and to think that I was once planning on marrying that
slut!"

   Eventually, Trent peeled his naked body off Annabel's back, his
semi-hard member retreating form her abused back-end with a rude plopping
sound.  With some effort, Josh then pushed Annabel off him and she rolled
like a rag-doll onto her side.

   Helen said, "Annabel?  Can you stand?"

   Annabel kept her eyes closed and didn't answer.

   "She's totally out of it," Josh said, his own voice unsteady after his
exertions.

   Completely spent, Annabel was more than willing to let them think she
had passed out.  She knew that her filthy, smelly, naked body was on full
view but she was beyond caring.  Her lust temporarily sated, all of her
muscles ached, her feet were killing her, and her asshole and pussy were
raw.  She placed her hands on her tender breasts and feeling the stickiness
there, impulsively said, "I want a shower."

   "Yes, you do look a bit of a mess," Helen said.  "I've got a better
idea. Guys, why don't you take Annabel outside for a refreshing swim?"

   "Okay," Trent said.  "Just give me a minute to get my legs back.  This
bitch goes off like a jackhammer!"

   Annabel was actually just drifting off when she felt hands under her
armpits and knees.  Then she was floating as they carried her out to the
backyard.  The evening air cooled her skin as they crossed the patio, and
she opened her eyes and looked up at the night sky.

   The warm glow of after-sex and alcohol dissipated quickly as they began
to swing her back and forth, and the queasiness in her stomach returned
with a vengeance as the stars blurred above her.

   "One, two, three!"

   Annabel was suddenly airborne, spinning and disoriented, and then came
the deafening, cold shock as she hit the water.  In an instant she was
sober, water rushing up her nose as she attempted to get her bearings. 
With a deep, hoarse gulp, she broke the surface, spluttering and coughing.

   Her tormentors were all lined up at the edge of the pool, laughing at
her.  Her mind suddenly sharp again, the full impact of what she had just
done hit her like a brick.  Bobby's hurtful words came back to remind her
of all that she had sacrificed in order to keep her inheritance. 
Despairingly, she realized that he was right.  She had become the lowest of
the low.  Even a street hooker carried herself with more dignity.

   Now the all-conquering Helen, her arm lovingly around Bobby's waist,
said, "I hope that's revived you, Annabel, because Samantha wants to give
you a caning for insulting her earlier."


   COMING UP NEXT: PART EIGHT - ANNABEL HELPS THE HOMELESS