Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ANNABEL AND MR.  NASH

   Copyright 2013 by Lorenzo Marks

   (MF, nc, bd, exhib, spank)

   (Author's Note: If you want to find out how Annabel became entangled in
this humiliating trap, please first read Part One - `Annabel's Initiation',
and Part Two - `Annabel's Transformation')



   PART THREE - ANNABEL'S DESCENT



   Chapter Twenty-Seven

   "Annabel, the sausage rolls are ready," said Mrs.  Craddock.

   With a weary sigh, Annabel stopped what she was doing, picked up a
dishcloth, and crouched down in front of the oven.  It was a maneuver that
she found both awkward and embarrassing, due to the bizarre and kinky
costume that Nash had assigned her for the morning.

   She wobbled on her absurdly tall pumps as her round ass cheeks settled
just above her heels.  In the reflection of the glass door, Annabel could
see the old woman scrutinizing her bare back, and was grateful that Nash
had at least allowed her to cover her front with a blue apron.  Other than
that, her only other attire was a pair of black satin panties and a white
cotton cap, under which she had been instructed to tie up her auburn hair.
So far this week, Mrs.  Craddock hadn't displayed any lesbian tendencies,
but the way she constantly examined her new charge was somewhat
disconcerting, to say the least.

   Nash had hired the stern, gray-haired woman to teach Annabel how to cook
and clean, as well as give her lessons in etiquette and deportment.  At
first, Annabel had welcomed the idea, thinking that for at least four
mornings a week, she would be spared Nash's lewd and intimate attentions.

   But Mrs.  Craddock had turned out to be a hard and relentless
taskmaster, and any illusions that Annabel had harbored of receiving some
feminine sympathy were quickly dispelled.  This was their third morning
together, and it had been no less physically or mentally tiring than the
first two.  After spending three hours on her feet in the living room,
practicing how to bow, curtsey, kneel, and speak to her master in the
correct manner, Annabel had passed the remainder of the morning learning
how to make sandwiches, dips, salads and snacks under Mrs.  Craddock's
watchful eye.

   Placing the tray on the counter, Annabel felt the stern old bitch's hot
breath on her neck and she automatically stiffened.

   Why does she have to stand so close?

   "Not bad," the old woman said.  "I think we might just about have you
ready in time to receive Mr.  Nash's guests tonight.  Now, go upstairs and
change into your leotard."

   *

   Darius settled into a garden chair with his Canon Sure Shot at the
ready, and watched as Mrs.  Craddock put Annabel through her paces.  It was
a crisp, clear afternoon, just cool enough for Annabel's nipples to poke
proudly against the green latex leotard that she was squeezed into.  Right
now, Mrs.  Craddock had Annabel holding a rather comical and
uncomfortable-looking pose - her left arm held out straight to the side,
her right arm aiming at the sky, and her legs bent slightly at the knees
with her feet pointing outwards.  The posture had the effect of
accentuating the bulge of her mons, and certainly merited a couple of
pictures.

   Annabel had been motionless like this for over a minute, and already her
slender arms were beginning to tremble.  However, Mrs.  Craddock appeared
to have no intention of giving the hapless girl any relief just yet.

   "Now we are going to work on facial muscle control," she said from the
comfort of the other garden chair.  "I want you to open your mouth and poke
out your tongue as far as it will go."

   Darius watched gleefully as Annabel's eyes briefly flickered in his
direction and her cheeks glowed a deeper shade of pink.  As her pretty
features contorted into the absurd expression, Darius could have clapped
with delight.

   Oh, Mrs.  Craddock, you are priceless!

   There could have been no useful purpose in having Annabel display
herself like this - the sole intention being simply to humiliate her!

   Darius was very pleased that he had invested some of Sissy's payment
money in procuring the sadistic old housekeeper's services.  She had been
recommended by an acquaintance who shared Darius' warped sexual tendencies,
and her presence acted as a buffer between himself and Annabel, helping to
consolidate their master-slave relationship.  To further enhance the
illusion, the old bag never once dropped her officious demeanor, even
though it was quite evident that she got her sexual kicks from directing
Annabel's escalating debasement.

   As Annabel struggled to maintain the excruciating pose, Darius realized
that he was watching a master of cruelty at work, and from whom, over the
coming months, he hoped to learn so much.

   *

   The aching in her jaws, arms, and back, were becoming intolerable, but
Annabel knew from her previous exercise session that if she moved without
Mrs.  Craddock's permission, a painful and humiliating ass-whipping would
ensue.  She had only been laid across the old woman's lap once before, but
the red stripes that Mrs.  Craddock's crop had left on Annabel's buttocks
were still visible.  On that occasion, Nash had not been present, but now,
the possibility of having her bottom flayed in front of the dirty lecher
seemed unthinkable!

   While her tormentors waited for her to slip-up, Annabel avoided their
eyes and tried to concentrate.  Her mind had been such a ragged mess over
the past few days that she wasn't thinking coherently any more.  Between
Mrs.  Craddock and Nash himself, she had been kept constantly on her toes -
often literally - and her only time alone had been spent in an exhausted
sleep whilst handcuffed to her bed.  The only positive was that Nash had
not touched her since she had so shamefully offered herself to him -
although his apparent indifference both baffled and worried her.  Even she
wasn't naïve enough to believe that that would be their last physical
liaison.

   "Very good, Annabel," Mrs.  Craddock said grudgingly.  "You may close
your mouth and stand up straight."

   Grateful for the relief, Annabel did as she was told, but then Mrs. 
Craddock added, "Now we'll have twenty minutes running on the spot.  Hands
behind your head, and knees up high!"

   Annabel jogged in place and tried to remind herself why she was still
here.  She hadn't lost sight of her goal, but there were other factors now
- the punishment chair and the terrifying rubber hood, Mrs.  Craddock's
painful crop, and of course Nash's ever-growing collection of pictures.

   With her breasts bouncing wildly, and her bare feet pounding on the
grass, Annabel stared at the back door of the house, and out of the corner
of her eye, saw Nash raise his camera once again. 





   Chapter Twenty-Eight

   Showered and shaved, dressed in a pressed white shirt, gray slacks, and
highly-buffed loafers, Darius settled into an armchair and waited for his
delightful maid to bring him his drink.  He was quite honestly astonished
at how readily Annabel had buckled down over the past few days.  He had
deliberately reduced their personal contact, preferring to take on the role
of occasional observer - and photographer - while Mrs.  Craddock molded
Annabel into his subservient plaything, and he had to admit that the
results so far appeared to be beyond expectations.

   In their few exchanges, Annabel had been courteous and obedient, kept
her lovely eyes lowered, and had followed his orders promptly and without
complaint.  Ever the connoisseur of delayed gratification, Darius had
refrained from instructing her to do anything of a sexual nature -but that
would all change this evening, and he was interested to see how she would
react.  Having come this far, she would undoubtedly do her utmost not to
allow her efforts go to waste, but by bringing three other equally-depraved
players into the game, Annabel would once again soon be breaking
unchartered territory.

   While he was dwelling upon the delicious possibilities ahead, the
beautiful young girl timidly entered the living room with a tumbler of
bourbon on a silver tray.  She was back in her skimpy maid's outfit,
complete with cap, garter belts, fishnet stockings, and five-inch pumps,
the only addition this time being a matching black lace bra and panty set,
which was plainly visible under the see-through uniform.  Mrs.  Craddock
evidently knew a thing or two about make-up too, because Annabel was
wearing just enough scarlet lipstick, black mascara, and green eye shadow
to look slightly tarty without obscuring her innate beauty.

   Averting her eyes, Annabel placed Darius' drink on the coffee table
whilst remembering to keep her legs straight, and her rump thrust out. 
Admiring the smooth curves of her thighs, Darius was just contemplating
giving her ass a squeeze when the doorbell rang.

   "Ah," he said.  "That will be the first of my guests.  Be a good girl
and see them in."

   *

   Even though Mrs.  Craddock had explained in chilling detail the dire
consequences Annabel would face should she fail to perform her duties
exactly as instructed tonight, she was still swamped by a sudden attack of
stage fright as she approached the front door.  Thus far, Nash's vulgar
sport had been conducted in relative privacy, with only two witnesses to
her steady fall from grace, but tonight there would be three other
strangers in the house, and although the new list taped to the refrigerator
merely outlined her responsibilities as a hostess, there was a lurking
dread in the back of her mind that she was going to be the object of a more
debauched form of entertainment.

   After taking a series of deep breaths, she opened the door with
trembling fingers.  Two men of about Nash's age stood on the doorstep and
eyed her hungrily.

   "Good evening, sirs," she said, following Mrs.  Craddock's script.  "My
name is Annabel.  Welcome to Mr.  Nash's residence."

   Then, trying not to blush, she dipped into a dainty curtsey whilst
holding out the edges of her flimsy miniskirt.  The first man entered the
room as Annabel straightened up, and then holding her breath, kissed him on
the cheek.  She had to reach up to perform this demeaning greeting because
he was a tall man, with a square, stubbly chin, and striking gray eyes that
were currently fixed upon her well-supported cleavage.

   "Very nice to meet you honey," he said, giving her cheek a playful
squeeze.  "I'm Eddie Yeats.  I have to say, Darius is a lucky man to have
such a sweet-looking maid!"

   As Yeats went into the living room, Annabel turned towards the second
guest, a squat, balding old guy, with a bulbous red nose.  Resisting the
urge to retch, she went to press her lips against his cheek, but at the
last moment the dirty old pig turned his face towards her so that their
lips connected, causing her to pull away in shocked surprise.

   "Hello, Annabel," he grinned, displaying a row of yellow uneven teeth.
"Tom Craddock.  I believe you know my wife."

   *

   Alastair Barclay decided to park his car a block away from Nash's house
and walk the rest of the way.  Oddly, despite his eagerness to discover how
much Annabel had been altered during the past week, he was also a little
nervous.  Nash had promised him on the phone that he would soon be living
out his lifelong sexual fantasy, but he couldn't quite bring himself to
believe that it was really going to happen.

   Over the years, Alastair had watched Annabel grow up and develop into a
most desirable young woman - and the inspiration for most of his dirty
dreams - but he had never even remotely considered that she would become
anything other than that.  As he walked, Alastair reminisced over some of
the disgusting acts that he had visualized Annabel performing during his
frequent masturbation sessions - was it really possible that he was about
to see them happening in the flesh?

   He climbed up the steps of the modest brownstone and shaking with
anticipation, pressed the doorbell.  When the door swung open a moment
later, the heavenly apparition standing before him, almost took his breath
away - Annabel was dressed in the most provocative maid's outfit he had
ever seen!  The black, low-cut, semi-transparent top was trimmed with white
lace and stopped just below her thrust-up breasts, leaving her flat midriff
bare.  The tiny skirt and apron barely reached the tops of her thighs which
were adorned with white garters, and her long legs were wrapped in black
fishnet stockings, their shape accentuated by a pair of high-heeled pumps.
Her make-up was heavier than she usually wore, enough to make her look
cheap but not comical, and the stunning image was crowned by a cute little
white cap on her head, under which her glorious red hair had been pinned up
into a bun.

   My God, just look at her!

   Alastair watched open-mouthed as without preamble, Annabel pulled her
miniskirt outwards with her fingertips, and bent her legs into a low
curtsey.

   "Good evening, sir, my name is Annabel..." she started, and then her
eyes grew wide and her face twisted into a mask of horror.  "Barclay!" she
shrieked, and in the next instant, she fled up the stairs. 





   Chapter Twenty-Nine

   As soon as she reached the landing at the top of the stairs, Annabel
stopped, her breasts heaving.  The dreadful repercussions of any
transgressions on her part had been deeply ingrained into her over the past
few days, which was why she had managed to dredge up the inner strength to
demean herself in front of the other two guests.  She hadn't meant to run,
it had been a spontaneous reaction when she had seen Barclay standing in
front of her.  This was a man who had been catering to her every whim for
as long as she could remember!  For her entire life, she had barely given
him a second thought as he had chauffeured her to school, served her food,
and obeyed her orders without question.  It hadn't entered her head that he
might be one of the guests tonight.  Now the tables would be completely
turned.  How could this possibly be happening?

   I'm going to have to serve him!

   "Annabel!" Nash bellowed up the stairs.  "Get back down here this
instant!"

   Slowly, she turned around.  Her pumps were at the foot of the stairs
where she had kicked them off in her panic.  Barclay remained in the
doorway, a bemused expression on his face.  She needed time to think. 
There had to be a way to avoid this.  But Nash was waiting, and Mrs. 
Craddock's ominous words still echoed in her mind.

   "Annabel!  This is your last chance!" Nash yelled from the living room.

   Her mind enveloped in a fog of confusion, Annabel skipped down the
stairs in her stockinged feet and put her pumps back on.  Then she tottered
along the hallway and stood once more in front of her former servant. 
Swallowing hard, and unable to meet Barclay's gaze, Annabel lowered herself
before him.

   "Good...  good evening, Sir," she croaked, feeling her cheeks on fire.
"My name is Annabel.  Welcome to Mr.  Nash's residence."

   Then she straightened up and, for the first time in her life, kissed
Barclay on the cheek.

   *

   Darius had no idea if Annabel understood anything about the rules of
poker, but as the delectable young girl hovered around making sure that
their glasses and plates remained full, she appeared unaware of the absence
of money or chips on the table as they played out the first hand.

   Alastair and Craddock folded, but under the previously agreed rules,
they couldn't have cared less - they were all going to be winners tonight.
Yeats beat Darius with a straight and then said, "So let me see if I've got
this right.  Now I get to choose - a shot, an item of clothing, or a
forfeit?"

   "That's correct," Darius said, glancing at Annabel for a reaction, but
she either wasn't listening, or didn't understand.  "But before you do,
Annabel has a special little gift for us."

   Now she looked at him nervously as he continued, "Annabel, would you be
so kind as to fetch the little tray from the coffee table?"

   Darius had left it there earlier amongst the plates of snacks and
bottles of liquor, and although she hadn't said a word, she must have
noticed the blue, diamond-shaped tablets on the silver tray.  Again, he
wondered just how naïve the pampered young lady had been before her arrival
here, but surely she must have known what they were?

   Remembering to keep her legs straight, Annabel bent down and retrieved
the tray.

   "Now, when I explained to Annabel that we would be playing strip poker
tonight," Darius smiled, "she came up with a delightful idea."

   Annabel looked at him, her face a picture of anxiety and bewilderment.
"In order to ensure that the forfeits won't be a...  flop, so to speak, she
is going to feed each of you a Viagra, aren't you Annabel?"

   Darius observed the panic in Annabel's eyes with delight as he went on.
"And you can start with Mr.  Eddie."

   *

   Oh, this is too good to be true!  Alastair Barclay thought as he watched
Annabel pick up the first tablet with her slender little fingers.  Darius
Nash is wicked beyond words!  Not only are we all soon going to be sporting
rock-hard erections, but he has managed to create the illusion that Annabel
will be responsible for them!

   She stood awkwardly before Yeats, her ever-present blush intensifying as
she waited for him to take the pill from her.  The big fella had no
intention of letting her off that easy, however!  With a twinkle in his
eye, he simply opened his mouth and offered her his long tongue.

   Alastair watched in fascination as the wretched girl warily placed the
tablet on his tongue, and then whipped her fingers away quickly, as if he
was going to bite her.

   "Offer Mr.  Eddie a drink," Nash prompted.

   Almost in slow motion, Annabel picked up Yeats' glass of scotch and held
it to his lips.  After he had swallowed, he moved the glass aside and held
her gaze, before leaning forward and kissing her on the lips.  Incredibly,
Annabel didn't scream, jerk away, or even close her eyes - it was as if she
had been hypnotized.

   "Mr.  Tom's turn now," Nash said, breaking the spell.

   Mechanically, Annabel moved around the table to where Craddock was
eagerly waiting.  As soon as she reached him, he grabbed her by the waist
and pulled her onto his lap.  Now Annabel did react with a yelp, but
Craddock held her in place as he opened his mouth and waggled his tongue at
her.

   As he sucked the Viagra pill from her fingertips, his other hand slid up
over her stomach, pushing up against the underside of her bra and jiggling
her breasts.  After a brief struggle, she managed to worm her way off his
lap and then stood in front of Alastair.

   If hand-feeding erectile-dysfunction medication to middle-aged strangers
wasn't bad enough, Alastair could only guess at the inner turmoil Annabel
was suffering as she offered him his pill.  For Alastair, it was a highly
symbolic moment as he opened his mouth and allowed her to pop the blue
tablet inside - they both knew what this meant, and where it was all
heading.  As Annabel's pretty blue eyes brimmed up, Alastair felt a
stirring in his loins that couldn't possibly have been caused so soon by
the Viagra. 





   Chapter Thirty

   Standing numbly to one side, Annabel fought back tears of shame as she
tried to process what was happening here.  Of course Nash had lied when he
had told his friends that she knew they would be playing strip poker.  But
what did that mean?  Were they all going to get naked in front of her?  And
what would happen when the Viagra kicked in?  An unwelcome image popped
into her head of the four old men with their penises jutting out from under
their fat bellies.

   "So now that the naughty little maid has given us our medicine," Yeats
caught Annabel's eye and winked, forcing her to look away.  "I get to
choose."

   "An item of clothing, a shot, or a forfeit," Nash confirmed jovially.

   "Well, that's a no-brainer," Yeats said.  "Shots and forfeits come
later." He rubbed his chin and looked around the table and Annabel held her
breath.  She still hadn't come to terms with Nash's nudity earlier in the
week, so she most definitely didn't want to see this!

   "Let's see," Yeats said.  "I choose Annabel's top."

   There was an awkward silence as all eyes turned towards her.  Then
Yeats' words finally sunk in.

   "But...  I'm not playing!" she pleaded.

   "It's in the rules," Nash said, leaning back in his seat.  "The winner
of each hand decides who takes off what.  Now hurry up, girl.  We haven't
got all night."

   "Please," Annabel whimpered, as realization dawned.  They're going to
strip me completely naked!  The game is all about me!

   "Annabel!" Nash snapped.  "Do not try my patience!  I have guests!  Now
get your top off, and pour me another drink!"

   His sudden switch to authority figure mode stabbed against something
fragile within her, and Annabel thought of the punishment chair and the
long, lonely hours spent under the stifling rubber hood.  All of her
resistance crumbled and she slowly unbuttoned the scanty top.  She could
feel their lecherous eyes boring into her as she parted the material and
then shrugged it over her shoulders and let it fall to the carpet.

   Now the shape of her generous bust was clearly on display, her cleavage
pushed up by the sexy lace bra.  Trying not to make her breasts wobble too
much, Annabel timidly took Nash's proffered glass and made him another
drink.  Her ears burned bright red as she heard them dealing out the next
set of cards.

   *

   "Flush!" Craddock declared triumphantly, and then without hesitation
said, "Annabel loses her bra!"

   Well, well!  Darius thought.  They're getting impatient.  The Viagra
must be doing its work!

   He had noticed during the second hand that they were having difficulty
concentrating, but for Darius it was important that they kept up the
charade.  The rules of the game had to be observed, and the striptease that
Annabel was performing, would have to be slow and - for her - painful.  The
fact was, even though his perverted pals were going to have a deliciously
rude evening at Annabel's expense, he had devised this scenario purely for
his own gratification.  She might, in time, get used to being groped and
fucked by him, but each time a new person was introduced to her continuing
abasement, she would be forced to endure her humiliation anew.

   They all looked up at their unwilling temptress, and she took an
involuntary step backwards.

   "I can't!" she breathed, and her hands came up to cover her black bra.
She looked at Darius helplessly, but all he did was raise his bushy
eyebrows.  Fresh tears ran down Annabel's cheeks now as she understood that
it was pointless to keep stalling.  They both knew what was at stake, and
having come this far, that she may as well accept everything else that was
heading her way.  Sadly for her, it was never going to get any easier.

   Her bottom lip trembled as she reached around and unhooked her bra. 
Darius noticed each member of her audience lean forward slightly as, after
a brief delay, she let the cups slip from her ample boobs and then dropped
the bra at her feet.  Darius wondered if she was going to cover her nipples
with her hands this time, but to his surprise and delight, she kept them at
her sides, giving them all a splendid view of her pointed, pink nubs.

   *

   "Oh my Lord, Annabel!" Yeats chuckled.  "You could hang your hat on
those headlamps!"

   Craddock and Nash both laughed, but Alastair simply stared transfixed at
the gravity-defying tits that his former mistress was presenting to them.
He couldn't count how many times he had fantasized over seeing them
uncovered, but the reality in front of him was even more breathtaking than
he could have imagined.  He tore his eyes away from her bloated areolas and
leisurely perused the rest of her stunning young body, taking in every inch
of her shapely legs, her narrow waist, her exquisite little belly button,
and finally her overly made-up face, which was now deeply flushed with
shame.

   "Okay, gentlemen," Nash said briskly.  "Tom to deal."

   How can he possibly be interested in cards?  Alastair thought.  When all
three of his guests continued to gawp, Nash added, "Don't worry, our
topless maid isn't going anywhere."

   Somehow they managed to play out the hand, although Alastair's shaking
fingers gave away his excitement.  He could only make a pair, but all he
wanted was for somebody to win quickly so that he could get a good long
look at Annabel's naked pussy.

   "Flush beats a straight," Nash said to Yeats, and then without even
glancing at Annabel said, "Remove your skirt."

   There was no complaining from the tearful girl this time, and she simply
slipped the negligible piece of material down her legs and stepped out of
it.  Now she was clad only in her fishnets, heels, panties, and the
charming little white cap.  Alastair's cock strained at his underpants as
he studied Annabel's pubic mound, her camel-toe almost devouring the black
satin.  She stood quite still and kept her moist eyes fixed upon the
opposite wall.

   The next hand was Craddock's, but by now it didn't make any difference
who won because they all had the same agenda - to strip Annabel naked and
then move on to the forfeits.  But to Alastair's frustration, rather than
choosing Annabel's panties, Craddock said, "I think I'll take a
shot." 





   Chapter Thirty-One

   "Annabel, bring over the Patron."

   She had deliberately been trying to ignore their lewd comments while the
four middle-aged men drank and played cards.  Now the sound of her name
brought her back to the awful present moment, and after a split-second's
confusion, she went over to the coffee table.  Painfully aware of her
obscenely dangling breasts, she bent forward - legs straight and buttocks
pushed out, as she had been drilled by Mrs.  Craddock - and picked up a
tray of salt, limes, shooter glasses, and the squat bottle of gold tequila.

   Returning to the table, she needed no further instruction from Nash as
she poured out a shot glass of the amber liquid and then handed it to
Craddock, whose face was just inches from her breasts.  When he stuck out
his wet tongue, Annabel flinched and drew back.

   "Stay where you are," Nash said.  "We can't have a titty tequila,
without a nice pair of tits, can we?"

   Titty tequila?  What the hell is that?

   Annabel suddenly felt a little faint.  In her peripheral vision, she was
aware of Barclay's intent stare as she reluctantly offered her left breast
to Craddock.  When the vulgar little man's tongue touched her nub, she let
out an involuntary groan of revulsion.  Taking his time, Craddock lapped
around her areola until it glistened with his saliva.  Then to her horror,
he picked up the salt cellar and sprinkled it over the moistened area.

   As disgusted and red-faced as she was, Annabel couldn't help but look
down at her salt-encrusted nipple before it disappeared once more between
Craddock's lips.  This time, instead of licking, he suckled on her like an
infant, filling the air with the sound of his slurping.  It didn't take
long before - to Annabel's chagrin - he succeeded in arousing her teat to
erection before pulling his mouth off it with a resounding plop.

   After drinking the tequila, he placed a slice of lime between his teeth
and arched his neck so that he was facing up to Annabel.  There was no
point in pretending that she didn't understand his meaning, so she bent
down and hesitantly put her lips against his.  Then, in front of the
others, they French-kissed, Annabel trying not to retch due to the alcohol
fumes in his throat as he spat lime juice into her mouth.

   Eventually she broke away, but not before Nash had captured the
humiliating moment on his Canon Sure Shot.  Understanding now that she was
going to be in for a long night, Annabel tried not to dwell upon what they
might have in store for her next.

   *

   Barclay won the next hand, and Darius knew exactly what he was going to
do.  The lustful old butler was practically panting at the prospect of
exposing Annabel's cunt, and it was greeted with general mirth when he
said, "Okay!  Annabel drops her panties!"

   "Steady on, buddy!" Yeats laughed.  "There's plenty of time!"

   "No, it's fine," Darius said.  "Rules are rules, and the winner gets to
choose.  Annabel stand back from the table so we can all have a good look
at you."

   Her tears had dried up since the titty tequila ordeal, and her pretty
eyes had taken on a resigned expression.  Of course she would have known
that this was eventually going to happen, and apparently she had mentally
steeled herself for it.  How she reacted when they started on the forfeits
would be another thing entirely, however!

   She backed away, and after letting out a deep, shuddering sigh, took
hold of the waistband and drew her panties down over her thighs.  Then
bending forward, she pulled them down to her ankles and then over her
pumps. She remained in that position, with her breasts hanging beneath her
for a moment, before finally, painstakingly slowly, she straightened up.

   Everyone gazed adoringly at her well-pronounced vulva with its covering
of soft, red hair.  Barclay leaned so far forward that he almost fell out
of his chair, while Annabel seemed to be exerting incredible willpower not
to cover herself, her fists clenched tightly by her sides.  Now completely
nude except for the cap, stockings, and pumps, Annabel was ready for the
forfeits.

   *

   Alastair had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.  The
unobtainable Miss Annabel, whom he had lusted over for the past few years
was effectively naked!  Not only that, but she was being forced to serve
him in that embarrassing condition!

   He hardly noticed the cards he was dealt as she tottered back and forth,
making sure that their glasses and plates were replenished.  He had tried
to make eye contact, but she was having none of it, keeping her eyes
lowered as she went about her duties.  However, her attempts at retaining
even a tiny amount of dignity were exposed by the constant red tinge in her
cheeks.

   As Yeats laid down a full house, Alastair glanced over at the coffee
table where Annabel was preparing another drink.  She was bending over with
her back to them, her legs straight and thighs together so that she
presented them with a first-class view of her sensational ass.  Alastair's
cock was almost bursting out of his pants now, and he was willing to bet
that there were three more rock-hard erections under the table.

   Just look at her!  How long have I dreamed about this?  And it's
actually happening!

   "Well, there's no point in getting Annabel to take off any more
clothing," Yeats said.  "I think we're all agreed that the fishnets and
high-heels look just fine."

   There was an enthusiastic chorus of approval, so he went on, "In that
case, it's either a shot or a forfeit, am I right?"

   "You are," Nash said.

   "And I get to decide the forfeit?

   "Right again."

   "In that case," Yeats grinned, pushing his chair back from the table. 
"Annabel gets to give me a blow job!  Sorry guys!" 





   Chapter Thirty-Two

   Annabel watched in stunned silence as Yeats unzipped his fly and pulled
out his penis.  In her short life, the only other ones she had seen were
Bobby's and Nash's, but this was by far the biggest, with heavy veins and a
bulbous head.  Because of the Viagra, he had a powerful erection, and
mesmerized, she couldn't take her eyes off it.

   Blow job!  He said blow job!

   She knew what it meant but she was unable to make any sense of the
words. Her friends had talked about it, and she had seen some dirty
pictures, but she had never agreed to it with Bobby, no matter how much he
had begged her.  It had just seemed like such a filthy act!  The closest
she had come of course, had been when Nash had twice ejaculated into her
mouth, but she had somehow compartmentalized that day, and when no repeat
performance had occurred, she had almost succeeded in pretending that it
had never actually happened.

   But now she was staring at another stranger's phallus, rude and angry,
and pointing right at her!

   "Come on, honey," Yeats cooed.  "You're responsible for this.  Give me
some relief."

   In spite of everything that had happened, Annabel's whole body began to
shake.

   I can't do this.  Not in front of them!  Especially not in front of
Barclay!

   "What's up, Annabel?" Nash said.  "Stage fright?  I don't know why.  You
know what sperm tastes like, don't you?"

   "I...  can't," Annabel said tremulously.  "I don't know how."

   "Just get on your knees," Yeats coaxed.  "I'll show you."

   Annabel knew that eventually she would have to do what he wanted, but
she was frozen to the spot.

   "Do as he says," Nash warned her.  "By the time this night is over,
you'll be quite the expert."

   *

   Darius watched Annabel slump to her knees in front of Yeats' spread
legs. He had moved his chair back far enough so that they could all see the
action, and Darius had to admit that the big guy was impressively well
hung. Watching Annabel take that monster into her mouth would be quite a
spectacle and he reached for his camera as Yeats placed one large hand on
the back of Annabel's head, while with the other, he guided the tip of his
cock towards her mouth.

   Annabel kept her lips clamped tightly shut when they made contact with
Yeats' swollen glans, and then shook her head and started making desperate
whining noises.  Her reluctance only made him laugh however, and he at
first satisfied himself by wiping his cockhead back and forth along
Annabel's lips, coating them with pre-cum.  Then he pinched her nostrils
together and increased the pressure on the back of her head.

   "I don't know about Annabel," Craddock commented, "but it looks like
Eddie had done this before!"

   It was only a question of time before Annabel was forced to take a
breath, and when she did, Yeats pulled her head down and thrust his hips
forward.  Darius began taking pictures as Yeats' manhood disappeared into
her mouth, making her cheeks swell.  When his dick touched the back of her
throat, she gagged and Yeats withdrew his shiny rod.

   "Put out your tongue," he said, huskily.

   Annabel coughed and shook her head.

   "Do it," Nash said, and a tear trickled out of the corner of Annabel's
eye and she let out a miserable sob.  Then she poked out her little pink
tongue and started lapping at Yeats' thick shaft.

   "That's a good girl," Yeats crooned.  "Lick it all the way up and down,
just like a popsicle."

   Darius watched entranced as their naked maid licked and slathered up and
down the giant cock and then to his surprise, took the whole thing back
into her mouth.

   *

   A wave of jealousy swept through Alastair as he watched Annabel pick up
the tempo.  It was irrational he knew, but he felt as if she somehow
belonged to him.  He had served her all these years, and he knew her better
than any one else present - and he had jerked off with her on his mind so
many times that it seemed unfair that he should now be watching her
pleasure another man.

   But his frustration was soon outweighed by a voyeuristic delight as he
watched her head bounce up and down, taking Yeats' cock deeply into her
mouth, gagging occasionally, but sticking to her task until Yeats began to
moan.  As he raised himself off the chair, Yeats said, "Hold it in your
mouth!"

   He grunted a few times, jerked his hips, and then clamped his hand
around Annabel's neck as she tried to pull away.  Finally he relaxed with a
sigh and allowed her up for air.

   "Don't swallow," Nash commanded.  "Look this way and open your mouth."

   Annabel's tearful eyes were filled with despair as she faced the camera.
Her tongue was covered in Yeats' white spunk which soon dribbled over her
bottom lip and down her chin.

   "Show everybody what a dirty little whore you have become," Nash said,
as he snapped away.

   Annabel continued to exhibit the filthy contents of her mouth to the
four spectators, and it was as much as Alastair could do not to whip his
own cock out right then!

   Oh, how the mighty have fallen!

   Finally, Nash said, "You may swallow."

   With a grimace, Annabel closed her mouth and gulped Yeats' sticky issue
down her throat.  She remained on her knees, her crimson face wet with
tears and her beautiful breasts heaving as she caught her breath.

   Nash put down the camera and said, "You see, it wasn't that difficult
after all, was it?  In fact, I think you are a natural cocksucker.  Eddie,
your deal, I believe." 





   Chapter Thirty-Three

   For a long while, Annabel stayed on her knees, tasting Yeats' sticky
semen in the back of her throat.  That had been her first attempt at
fellatio, and she hoped, without much conviction, that it would be her
last. After her initial aversion, she had impulsively opted to try and get
him to come as quickly as possible, her sole objective being to get his
rigid penis out of her mouth.  But in doing so, she had fallen into another
of Nash's psychological traps - his throw-away remark had made her feel
cheap and dirty.

   While the men turned their attention to the next hand, they appeared to
have lost all interest in her.  At least when Nash was constantly giving
her orders, she had been the center of attention - now she just felt as if
she had been used and discarded.  Even Yeats, whom she had just satisfied
so efficiently, had his back to her.  Her physical and emotional revulsion
was now joined by an emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

   A cocksucker!  Is that all I am now?

   "Four of a kind!" she heard Craddock say.  "You know what?  I think I'll
take another tequila!"

   "Annabel!" Nash said.

   She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rose unsteadily to her
feet.  Once more, all eyes were upon her as she approached the table.  She
saw Yeats leering at her and looked away.  No matter what happened after
this, he would always have the pleasant memory of her sucking him off in
front of the others.

   "Another titty tequila for Mr.  Tom," Nash announced.

   Instinctively she raised an arm across her breasts, but Craddock said,
"No, not titty this time.  I want an asshole tequila."

   "Asshole?" Yeats nearly spat his whisky across the table.

   "Why the hell not?" Craddock beamed.

   "How the fuck does that work?" Yeats chuckled.

   Nash and Barclay looked at him inquiringly - and so did Annabel.

   Sounding a little on the drunk side, Craddock said, "I'll show you. 
Annabel dear, please be so kind as to turn around, part your legs and grab
your ankles."

   *

   Well, well, I didn't see this coming!  Darius thought, as Annabel looked
at him imploringly.  Should be interesting.

   "Come along, Annabel," he said, as if what Craddock had just asked her
was the most natural thing in the world.  "You've just performed like a
common whore so you should have no trouble with this."

   Annabel stared at him, lips slightly parted, and Darius was sure he saw
a flicker of outrage in those pretty eyes - but it was soon replaced by a
dull look of resignation.  She turned and bent, shuffling her feet apart,
and then wrapped her fingers around her calves.  They had been ogling her
naked ass for the past hour or so, but this was a vision to behold!  Her
fleshy pussy lips were fully on display, and between her spread legs, her
breasts and hair hung downward.  For a second she looked at her tormentors
upside-down, but then quickly closed her eyes.

   The other three men looked at Craddock curiously as he pulled Annabel's
ass cheeks apart, causing her to jerk in surprise.  Then he poked out his
tongue and started lapping at her ring-piece.  Annabel let out a barely
audible gasp as he worked his tongue around the sensitive area and then
prodded at her opening.  Next, he began drawing long strokes up and down
the cleft of her buttocks, squeezing her cheeks with his fingers and
tickling her labia with the tip of his tongue.  Annabel began to squirm and
wriggled her hips.  When Craddock finally took his face out of her ass, the
whole area was shining with his saliva.

   "Delicious!" the old deviant said, reaching for the salt cellar.  After
coating her with salt, he went to work with his tongue again, giving a
little more attention to her cunt lips this time.

   From her obscene and inverted position, Annabel moaned, "Oh, stop! 
Please stop!"

   *

   What a disgustingly filthy old lecher!  Alastair thought as he watched
open-mouthed at Annabel's latest defilement.  He felt another stab of envy
as Craddock downed the tequila and placed a wedge of lime between his
teeth.

   Everybody is getting to play with her except me!  I'm going to have to
concentrate on my cards more!

   After sucking on the lime, Alastair assumed that Craddock was going to
feed it to Annabel's inverted mouth between her legs - but the salivating
little man had other ideas.  Prying her ass cheeks apart with his left
hand, he took the small piece of fruit out of his mouth and squashed it
against her puckered anus.  A fascinated silence fell over the table as he
worked the lime wedge past Annabel's sphincter muscle and pushed it into
her rectum with his thumb.

   Annabel wiggled in discomfort and emitted a high-pitched squeal of
disapproval - but still Craddock wasn't done.  Alastair watched awestruck
as a second, third, and fourth wedge of lime followed, plugging up her
asshole, and with each insertion, Annabel's protestations grew louder.

   "Ugh!  Aah!  Oh!  Don't.  Please!  Take them out!" she groaned, her eyes
now wide open as she observed each piece invading her body.

   I'll bet that's a first for you, young Annabel!  Alastair thought
contentedly, as he absently massaged his own erection through his pants.

   Finally Annabel was allowed to straighten up, and on Nash's command, she
turned around to face them.  Her cheeks, already flushed with
embarrassment, were now scarlet from having spent so long bent over.  Her
eyes had begun to fill up again, and her whole body quivered.  Alastair
drank in her beauty once again, his eyes lingering on her full breasts and
then dropping down to the downy triangle between her thighs.

   She has stripped naked for us, had her nipple sucked, performed
fellatio, and is now carrying four wedges of lime up her ass!  And the
night is still young!

   As Craddock shuffled the deck, Alastair decided that he absolutely had
to win the next hand. 





   Chapter Thirty-Four

   This time Annabel paid attention as they played out the next hand. 
Until now, the card game had appeared to be an incidental backdrop to the
real game - which was to subject Annabel to their increasingly sick sexual
torments.  But by now she had grasped the fact that whoever won the hand
earned the right to do whatever they wanted to her, and that meant that
there was still one unthinkable eventuality that she desperately hoped she
might avoid - being molested by Barclay!

   All of those years growing up at Pemberton Hall, he had been a constant
background presence, but unlike the cooks, maids and gardeners, whom
Annabel had treated almost like family, she had always sensed something
insidious about the old butler.  As she had matured into womanhood, she had
become aware of the furtive looks he gave her, but as creepy and annoying
as that was, she had never quite been able to catch him doing anything
incriminating.  There would have been nothing more enjoyable than getting
the old reprobate fired, but she had eventually concluded that he simply
didn't have the guts to act upon his filthy urges.  That knowledge had
provided Annabel with a measure of security, and over the past year she had
deliberately provoked him, parading herself in the skimpiest of clothing,
safe in the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to her.

   Oh, how she regretted that now!  So far this evening he had watched her
strip naked, have her nipple sucked, taken a stranger's penis into her
mouth, and had lime wedges pushed into her rectum!  That was mortifying
enough.  God forbid that he should win a hand now.  Who knew what he might
do to her?

   Her heart-rate increasing, she watched uncomprehendingly as they showed
their hands - and when Nash won, she let out an audible sigh of relief.

   *

   Darius laid his four of a kind on the table and looked at the other
hands.  Yeats had a straight, Craddock a two pair, and Barclay just a king
high.  Either the old butler was plain unlucky or he was the lousiest poker
player Darius had ever seen!

   But even as he considered what to do with Annabel next, he saw the
relief wash across her face and he instinctively understood what she was
thinking.  She had already been more intimate with Yeats and Craddock than
she could ever have imagined, therefore she would probably find a repeat
performance repugnant, but just about doable.  So why was she suddenly so
interested in who won the hand?  Darius' wicked eyes flicked from Annabel
to Barclay, who was looking at her breasts with increasing frustration.

   Of course!  Years of subservience, lusting over the unobtainable
princess!  There was more than sexual release at stake here.  This was a
role reversal that neither of them could have conceived of a week ago! 
Okay, Mr.  Barclay, it's payback time!

   "Well, my turn, I guess," he said casually.  He perused the naked girl
for a moment and she eyed him with a mixture of bewilderment and
trepidation.  Had she guessed what was coming?

   "And my choice is...  Alastair gets to fuck Annabel in front of us!"

   Yeats guffawed and slapped the table, Craddock licked his lips, and
Barclay simply blinked and stared first at Darius, and then at Annabel.

   "No," she whispered.  "No, that's not fair!  You won the hand.  You
should...  have me!"

   The naked girl looked so delightfully flustered that Darius was almost
tempted to change his mind.  He had a raging hard-on that needed serious
attention - but this was going to prove far more fun.

   "Oh, our sexy maid is setting the rules now is she?  Well that's earned
her a punishment session after the game." He turned to Barclay who was
still gazing at Annabel rapturously.  "Well, Alastair?  You had the lowest
hand, so I think it's only right that you should carry out the forfeit."

   Barclay opened his mouth but no words came out, so Darius prompted, "I'm
sure Eddie or Tom would be happy to oblige if you prefer..."

   "No, no!" Barclay suddenly found his voice.  "I'll fuck her!"

   *

   Alastair would have preferred to have taken Annabel somewhere private,
but like it or not, this was Nash's game and he had full control of it.  If
Alastair had to fuck her in front of these guys, then so be it - for all he
knew, this might be his one and only chance to fulfill a lifelong fantasy.

   There would certainly be no danger of him failing to perform -
regardless of the Viagra that was currently coursing through his veins, he
had been maintaining a constant erection ever since Annabel had been forced
to reveal her gorgeous body to them.  He downed his drink for a bit of
Dutch courage and then stood up.  As he approached her, Annabel put out her
hands and backed away.

   "Please don't do this, Barclay!" she begged him, eyes wide in panic.

   From behind him, Alastair heard Nash say, "Annabel!  What were you told
about being rude to my guests?  Do you want to spend a week in the
punishment chair?"

   She glanced at Nash desperately, and then appealed once more to
Alastair. "I'll make it worth your while if you don't touch me," she
whispered.

   Alastair's eyes dropped to her perfectly formed tits, and then further
down to her succulent pubic mound.  "I'm sorry, my dear," he said.  "But
I've dreamed about this moment for a long, long time."

   Annabel sobbed forlornly and Nash said, "As it's my forfeit, I get to
direct proceedings.  Are you okay with that, Alastair?"

   "Whatever," Alastair said impatiently.

   "Good.  Annabel, get on your knees in front of Mr.  Barclay."

   With a look of despair on her face, Annabel hesitatingly sank down to
the carpet.  Alastair gazed down at the top of her head, now level with his
crotch, and once again had to remind himself that this wasn't another wet
dream.

   "Take out Mr.  Barclay's cock," Nash instructed.

   Annabel squeezed out yet more tears as she reluctantly pulled Alastair's
zipper down.  He felt her shaking fingers delving inside his underwear, and
then fumbling to free his erect member.  When it popped out, she jumped
back and turned her face away.

   "You know what to do now, don't you, little miss cocksucker?" Nash said
cruelly. 





   Chapter Thirty-Five

   He's a beast!  A terrible, awful beast!

   Even after all the torture and humiliation, this was something that she
simply could not bring herself to do.  This was the hired help!  A sad old
man who probably hadn't been with a woman in decades!  And yet, to resist
now would mean she would lose everything, and all that she had endured
would be for nothing.  Nash had spun a web around her so tightly that she
could see no way out.  In a few seconds she would be sucking the penis of
her lifelong servant, and she was powerless to prevent it from happening!

   "Hurry up, girl," she heard Nash say, and after taking a long,
shuddering breath, she opened her mouth, shut her eyes, and leaned forward.
With disgust, she felt Barclay's enlarged glans sliding against her lips as
he uttered a groan of pleasure.  Then she closed her lips around his shaft,
feeling its repulsive skin moving against her tongue.

   Her nose touched the fabric of his pants as she took in his length,
feeling it prod against the back of her throat, and making her gag.  She
pulled back until her lips encircled his cockhead, and through her eyelids,
she saw a flash from Nash's camera.

   What does it matter now?  she thought desolately.  It's really
happening, right now.  I can't go back in time and change it.  Barclay's
penis is inside my mouth!

   She continued to suck him gently, afraid of making him ejaculate into
her mouth.  She had already swallowed Yeats' semen, but the prospect of
adding Barclay's to it was too awful to contemplate.

   "Okay, enough foreplay," Nash announced.  "Annabel, turn around and get
on your hands and knees.  Alastair, I want you to take her doggy-style."

   Annabel let Barclay's penis slide out of her mouth and she inadvertently
opened her eyes.  The swollen head was pointing at her face, glistening
with her saliva.  She stared at it with a horrified fascination, unable to
connect it with the humble manservant from Pemberton Hall.  As she turned
away and got down on all-fours, it seemed unimaginable that in a moment he
would be inserting it into her vagina!

   *

   The shame and mortification on Annabel's face was plain for all to see
as she presented her rear-end to Barclay.  It was such a titillating scene
that Darius almost forgot to keep taking pictures.

   Barclay looked as though he had just gone to heaven as he took himself
in hand, and then guided his wet cock towards Annabel's waiting pussy.  He
needed a couple of tentative thrusts before her labia yielded, and then he
nudged himself inside her, each poke going in a little deeper, until she
finally accommodated the full length of him.  Annabel's head hung down, her
forehead touching the carpet, her face hidden by her hanging red locks, and
her arms braced as Barclay began to pump his cock in and out of her body.

   He gripped her by the hips, pulling her backwards with each forward
thrust, gradually picking up speed.  Darius watched intently as Annabel's
fingers dug into the carpet and her breasts swung back and forth.  For an
old guy, Barclay was giving her a pretty good seeing to, but then again, he
had probably had plenty of mental practice in the past!

   The room was silent except for the squelching sound of Barclays's rigid
prick slipping steadily in and out of Annabel's juiced-up cunt, accompanied
by her deep breaths as she became unwillingly aroused by her former
manservant.

   All too soon, Barclay's body tensed and he arched his back, pushing his
hips forward so that she was fully impaled, and then he let out a long
blissful moan as he emptied his seed into her womb.  The two unlikely
lovers remained coupled together for a moment, and nobody at the card table
was inclined to speak, realizing that they had just witnessed a
groundbreaking moment for both of them - their relationship would never be
the same again.

   Eventually Barclay pulled out of her, presenting them all with a good
view of her puffed-up labia.  Annabel's cheek was pressed into the carpet,
her face turned away from them, and from the way her shoulders gently
shook, Darius figured that the woeful girl was crying again.  He had no
intention of giving her a reprieve, though.

   "I don't know what you're so miserable about," he said.  "It was your
idea to feed everyone a Viagra.  What did you expect to happen?  Now, what
do you have to say to Mr.  Alastair?"

   *

   Annabel couldn't face them now.  She had surely reached her nadir this
time.  She had just submitted to the last man on earth that she would ever
have wanted to have sex with.  Through her indescribable grief, as she
choked back a fresh flood of tears, Annabel's only consolation was that he
hadn't managed to bring her to orgasm.  Not that the old fuck would be
concerned about that.  He had just acted out a dream that neither of them
had even slightly considered could ever happen.  His erect penis had been
inside her, and now so was his hot semen!  Both of them were very well
aware that nothing could ever change that fact.  They had fucked.  Mated.
Copulated.  And Nash had it all recorded on his camera.

   "Well?  Aren't you going to thank Mr.  Alastair for fucking you?" Nash
said mockingly.

   Suddenly Annabel felt an overpowering surge of hatred engulf her.  She
slowly raised herself up and turned around.  Barclay was still on his
knees, his face flushed, his eyes alight with passion, and his flagging
member still hanging out of his fly.  Craddock and Yeats were smiling
curiously, as if they had just learned something new and interesting about
her - perhaps they were looking ahead to their turn.

   She knew that it was essential to keep control, but the words just came
tumbling out.  "You pig!" she spat at Barclay.  "You fucking dirty old
pig!"

   Her eyes blurred with tears, she turned towards the table.  "You're all
pigs!"

   For a long moment, nobody spoke.  Then Nash said softly.  "I'm shocked,
Annabel.  Does this mean that you want to nullify our agreement?"

   Annabel blinked away her tears and looked at him.  She had almost
forgotten why she had allowed him to subject her to this endless string of
degradations.  There was a purpose to all of this, wasn't there?  A light
at the end of the tunnel?  She was so confused, her mind a whirlwind of
conflicting emotions.

   And then her shoulders slumped, and from somewhere far away she heard
herself meekly reply, "No, Mr.  Nash.  I don't." 





   Chapter Thirty-Six

   Darius breathed in a deep sigh of relief.  That was close!

   He had been absolutely convinced that Annabel had been psychologically
broken by now.  That was why he had allowed things to progress so far.  Her
sudden violent reaction had been totally unexpected, and had frankly scared
the shit out of him.  If she went to the police now, even if the four of
them colluded against her, a simple test would confirm that the semen
inside her belonged to Barclay and Yeats.  After that, it would merely be a
matter of time before they were all fucked themselves!

   But just when he had begun to fear the worst, she had abruptly
capitulated.  In spite of everything they had done to her, Annabel was
apparently still able to bring her focus back to the end game - her
fortune. The question was what to do now?  Call it a night and give her a
chance to calm down?  Or seize upon this sudden downshift in her anger and
press home his advantage?  Yeats and Craddock were looking at him a little
anxiously - clearly they had been startled by her reaction too.  He had
promised them that Annabel would be as docile as a lamb.  How he wished
Mrs. Craddock were here now!

   With some effort, he assumed his mask of authority.  "Well then, under
the terms of our arrangement, you have just committed a serious breach of
the rules.  You have insulted my guests.  I cannot tolerate that can I?"

   Anxiously, Darius awaited her response.  If she flared up again, it
would surely be over.  He knew he was taking a huge risk right now, but if
he prevailed here, then surely her subjugation would finally be complete.

   In a barely audible voice, Annabel again said "No, Mr.  Nash."

   Thank God!

   "Then I think we'll call an end to the card game and spend the rest of
the evening working on your punishment.  Does that sound fair?"

   Annabel kept her eyes lowered, her damp cheeks glowing, and her tits
bouncing as she tried to suppress a sob.  "Yes, Mr.  Nash."

   So that's it then.  Her outburst must have been an aberration triggered
by the trauma of being forced to submit to Barclay.

   "Good.  Then we'll begin with an apology."

   Despite his measured tone, Darius realized that he was perspiring as he
excused himself and went up to Annabel's room.

   *

   While they waited for Nash to return, Barclay zipped himself up and
returned to his seat at the card table.  He had a vague, ponderous
expression on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what they had just
done either.  Still kneeling, Annabel was suddenly aware of her nudity
again and - absurdly, considering what she had been through so far -
covered her breasts and pubes with her hands.

   Yeats waved his empty glass and said, "Honey, we could all do with a
refill, if you don't mind?"

   It was a ludicrous, nightmarish scenario.  She had been penetrated by
Barclay, forced to perform fellatio on Yeats, had her nipple sucked and her
ass plugged with fruit by Craddock, and yet here they were, expecting her
to continue in her absurd pseudo-maid's role!

   Annabel let out an exasperated, miserable sigh and rose to her feet.  As
she gathered up their glasses, she had no other option than to allow them
to ogle her unprotected body again.  She went over to the coffee table and
prepared their drinks, automatically keeping her legs straight and pushing
out her bare ass.

   What the fuck!  Let them look!  she thought dejectedly.

   When she got back to the table, Nash had returned to his seat.  In front
of him were a bamboo cane, a leather collar, handcuffs, an odd-looking
plastic circular contraption, and two small metal hooks attached to lengths
of string.  Her newfound resignation was suddenly replaced by a knot of
dread in her stomach.  She had no idea what he intended to with the other
mysterious objects, but the purpose of the cane was obvious!

   "Go and stand in the middle of the floor and turn around and grab your
ankles as you did before," Nash said sternly.

   Understanding that any resistance would only increase her suffering,
Annabel obeyed.

   Between her parted thighs, she watched Nash hand the cane to Craddock.
"Tom, you can go first.  Six of the best in your own time."

   Annabel felt her heart beginning to pound faster as Craddock took up
position behind her.  Nash said, "Annabel, after each stroke you will
count, and then say `Thank you, sir.  I apologize for being rude'.  Do you
understand?"

   "Yes, Mr.  Nash," Annabel replied in a quavering voice.

   Without preamble, Craddock swished the cane through the air and then
Annabel jumped as a fiery pain tore across her buttocks.

   "Ow!  One!  Thank you, sir!  I apologize for being rude!"

   *

   As Craddock delivered his six measured strokes, Alastair was unable to
tear his eyes away from Annabel's inflamed cunt lips.

   My cock was inside there!  Good God, after all these years of
frustration!  And Nash has photographic evidence.  I must get copies!

   Each time Craddock brought the cane viciously down, Annabel's head came
up, her mane of glorious auburn hair flying wildly, but somehow she managed
to keep her indecent pose.  As her ass cheeks began to redden, her
apologies grew increasingly louder.  Clearly each strike was agonizing. 
Finally Craddock delivered his sixth slash across her ass.

   "Aah!  Six!  Thank...  thank you, sir!" Annabel sobbed.  "I apologize...
for being ru...  rude!"

   "You're welcome, Annabel," Craddock smiled, and returning to the table
said, "Whose next?"

   Yeats looked at Alastair, and said, "After you."

   Alastair took the cane and walked over to where the distraught girl
remained bent over.  He whipped it through the air, testing its
flexibility, and Annabel visibly flinched.

   How many times over the years have I wanted to do this?  he thought
excitedly.

   He examined his sumptuous target.  Red welts crisscrossed her cheeks,
and already there wasn't much unblemished skin left.  Then he whipped the
bamboo across her ass and Annabel screamed in agony.  As he continued to
crack the cane hard into her flesh, Annabel's apologies became more and
more garbled, mingling with her cries of anguish.  Alastair almost felt
sorry for her by the time she apologized miserably to him for the sixth
time.

   When he was done, he couldn't resist running his middle finger tenderly
up her labia, before handing the cane to Yeats. 





   Chapter Thirty-Seven

   After watching Yeats dispense his six lashes, Darius picked up the dog
collar, cuffs, mouth extender, and nose hooks, and went across to Annabel.
She had collapsed onto her knees, her red-raw ass thrust up in the air.

   Ouch!  That looks painful.

   "Annabel, sit up on your knees and put your hands behind your back."

   Her whole body convulsed by her uncontrollable sobbing, the wretched
girl did as she was bade.  After he had cuffed her wrists together, she
watched him with moist, reproachful eyes as he secured the collar around
her neck - but she didn't offer any objection.  Next, he placed the nose
hooks inside her nostrils and pulled the strings up on either side of her
nose, up over the back of her head, and then attached them to the collar.
Her nostrils were now stretched long and upwards, disfiguring her
previously pretty little button nose.

   "Look at her!" Yeats chuckled.  "Miss Piggy!  And she called us pigs!"

   Looking increasingly distressed, Annabel's eyes were now fixed upon the
mouth extender.  This was one of several devices that Mrs.  Craddock had
brought here during the week, and it was actually intended as part of an
excruciatingly painful and embarrassing medical examination planned for
Annabel the following week.  The bizarre instrument had fascinated Darius
however, and he was keen to try it out.

   "Open your mouth," he said, holding it in front of her face.  This time
Annabel did hesitate for a moment, but eventually she parted her teeth, and
Darius fitted the plastic device inside her lips.  Then he pulled on the
sides, and the extender grew much wider, stretching her lips out into a
gigantic ugly grin.  Her beautiful face was now transformed into a
pig-nosed, mega-mouthed monstrosity, with her teeth bared, and her tongue
flailing around inside her now-cavernous mouth.

   "I can't believe you wanted to fuck that deformed thing, Alastair!"
Craddock said sadistically.

   Now Darius fetched the bottle of Patron from the table.  "It's time you
had a drink," he said.  Annabel shook her head but was unable to prevent
him from pouring a good measure into her mouth.  She hacked and gurgled as
the tequila burned the back of her throat.  Then he placed the bottle on
the floor and, taking her by the elbows, raised her up off her knees.

   "Squat down," he said, feeling his erection intensifying.

   Annabel uttered another incomprehensible ululation from her distended
mouth, but after wobbling a little on her high heels, reluctantly allowed
Darius to guide her cunt lips onto the top of the bottle.

   *

   Stop!  Stop it now!  You've done enough!

   Annabel had no idea what she must look like, but the looks of disgusted
fascination on the faces of her tormentors told her that it couldn't be
very nice.  Her nose and mouth hurt terribly from being stretched, and she
was conscious of the cool air flowing into her open orifices as she
breathed.

   Below, she could feel Nash's fingers prying her labia apart and then the
hard neck of the tequila bottle, as they closed around it.  She was no
longer wet from Barclay's rutting, and it was painful as the glass pushed
inside her.  With her hands immobile behind her back, she could only use
her legs to stop herself from being impaled deeper, but how long would she
remain strong enough to do that?

   Seemingly satisfied at her humiliating and painful position, Nash
inevitably took a number of shots with his camera.  When he was done, he
showed her what she looked like on the display screen.  Annabel could not
believe her eyes!  She looked absolutely hideous, with all her teeth
exposed and her mouth distorted into a gaping grin!  And her nose really
did look like it belonged to a pig!

   I'm a repulsive monster!  How does he come up with these insane and vile
ideas?

   More tears of shame coursed down her cheeks as she comprehended the next
level that he had brought her down to.  She had always been incredibly vain
about her beauty, but now he had taken that away from her too!  With her
ass cheeks on fire, the bitter tequila making her head swim, and her thighs
trembling from the effort not to slip further down onto the bottle, Annabel
waited mournfully for the next part of her punishment.

   *

   Alastair looked on with entranced disbelief at what Nash had just done
to Annabel.  His pretty little angel had been replaced by a pug-nosed,
big-mouthed, salivating apparition!  The grotesque mouth-widener had also
bloated out her cheeks, and if it wasn't for her lovely blue eyes, it would
have been hard to tell that this was really Annabel at all.

   Even in his most lurid fantasies, Alastair hadn't been able to dream up
something like this - Nash was a sicker pervert than he would ever be.  But
what came next was even more mind-boggling.  Nash gripped Annabel's hair
and then pushed his entire hand inside her yawning mouth.  As his
fingertips made contact with the back of her throat, Annabel began to
retch, but with her pussy impaled on the tequila bottle, and her hands
cuffed behind her, there was nowhere she could go.

   After a few seconds, Annabel's eyes started to water, and Alastair
watched captivated, as her throat strained in an attempt to vomit.  Close
to a minute passed before Nash withdrew his fingers, which were now coated
in Annabel's saliva.  While the poor girl gasped for air, he wiped his hand
on her breasts before once more plunging his hand back into her throat. 
Her eyes bulging, Annabel again started to gag, but Nash was merciless,
keeping her in place as she struggled desperately not to choke.

   It's the ultimate power game!  She is utterly under his control!

   Nash subjected her to this torture another three times, and after each
one, he wiped her sticky mucus over her chest until her breasts shone under
the ceiling light.

   While she was gulping down a lungful of air, Nash whipped out his stiff
cock and, still grasping a bunch of her hair, began to masturbate.  He
seemed oblivious to the three spectators at the table as he went about his
business.

   Seeing what was coming up, Annabel made a desperate `Aah!" sound, but
there was to be no escaping the ropy salvo that Nash's cock spurted onto
her tongue.  Unable to close her mouth, Annabel was forced to allow the
white glob of semen to dribble over her bottom lip and then dangle in a
stringy line from her chin.  The self-loathing that now revealed itself in
her eyes was almost too painful too watch.  This once dignified beauty had
been reduced to something less than human.

   His passion satisfied, Nash finally let go of her hair, and said,
"Gentlemen, she's all yours."

   *

   With Annabel disabled, Nash poured his own bourbon and ice.  Barclay had
remained seated, although his eyes were riveted to the action in the middle
of the living room.  Yeats and Craddock hadn't hesitated when he had given
them Annabel to play with, and after some awkward maneuvering, they had
succeeded in shoving both of their dicks into her gaping mouth at the same
time.

   As she fought to accommodate them, Annabel made more muffled gurgling,
retching noises while her face was buried in their shirts.

   "Um, fellas," Nash said.  "You might want to let her come up for a bit
of air."

   They pulled out of her and she gulped deeply.  He face was wet, her eyes
almost popping out of her skull, and her breasts were glossy with her own
regurgitated fluids.  The neck of the tequila bottle had disappeared inside
her cunt completely, stretching her pussy lips out even wider.  As a final
indignity, as she strained to lift herself up, a wedge of lime popped out
of her asshole and landed on the carpet.

   Watching Yeats and Craddock simultaneously shoot their glutinous semen
into Annabel's spread mouth, Nash sipped his drink and congratulated
himself on a job well done.  He didn't think he had entirely extinguished
the fire inside her, but it was only a matter of time now.  Another week or
two more, and the superior young Miss Annabel of Pemberton Hall, would
cease to exist once and for all.


NEXT: PART FOUR - ANNABEL'S PUBLIC DISGRACE