Old Slag Degraded by Young Studs Pt. 02

Chapter 2 — The Wanton Whore

After being allowed to land after my sexual high, I was prepared for my subsequent encounter. A large padding pool was brought into the room and inflated by those with lots of hot air, and there seemed to be plenty.

I was amazed to see a car engine hoist wheeled in. The young men under Tynan’s supervision had undoubtedly done a grand job arranging everything. I had leather ankle cuffs fitted and was lifted upside down by the hoist with my legs held apart with a spacer bar while my hands were tied behind my back.

“Fill her holes,” Kevin ordered.

Two of the group approached me with giant syringes overflowing with something yellow.

“Margarine,” Kevin said matter of factly, “To fill your arse and pussy.”

I felt the nozzles push into my two orifices, and then their cold, greasy deposits released into me.

“You asked for it,” Kevin said, “You requested folks on your writing site to provide ideas for us to use on you, and this was one… margarine,” He paused before adding, “and black treacle.”

A big bucket was placed under my head where my hair dangled. As I looked, I could see it was three-quarters full with something that looked sticky and black. As I was lowered, the aroma told me it was indeed treacle.

I have always enjoyed being made messy, even as a young girl. I always wanted my friends to spray me with water or be the one to receive the cream pie in my face or have custard poured down the top of my dress. In my teens, on several occasions, in the sanctity of the bathroom, I had tipped tins of custard, baked beans or mushy peas down my knickers and then rubbed the results over my body. I had found it sexually exciting to be messy and sticky, especially around my beaver and over tits. I still do! I guess that I have never grown up!

It had been quite a while since I had been covered in treacle as, due to Covid, I had not engaged in any naughty activity until just three months before this encounter. I had certainly not participated in any wet and messy games for at least three years.

I took a deep breath as my head entered the bucket, and the treacle adhered itself to me. Silence descended as my ears went into the thick, sticky sludge until the crown of my head hit the bottom of the bucket. As soon as the hoist wires went slack, I was hauled out with my head to my chin as black as soot.

“Now pour the rest between her legs,” Kevin instructed in muffled tones, “so the treacle will run down her body front and back.”

I felt the cold, thick liquid fall directly between my pussy and bum hole, running down my back, over my belly button and onto my breasts.

As the treacle flowed away from my ears, I heard one of the young men say, “I never thought I’d be able to do this to a woman. It’s so flipping sexy.”

“And she’s a dirty slut,” another added.

“Well, she certainly is now,” a further chipped in.

“Untie her wrists and lower her so her hands touch the pool floor,” Kevin told the guys using the hoist. “Now, bring the crushed ice.”

I suddenly felt a cold sensation around my pussy and bum as the frozen water was rubbed into both to join the treacle and margarine. The rest was unceremoniously tipped over me, running down my body as I shivered in my inverted position.

Eventually, I was lowered into the pool and released from my ankle straps, so I lay in the paddling pool among the treacle, spilt margarine and ice. The men seemed to like watching me in this position, still unable to see, and most of me covered in black treacle.

“Not so pretty now, is she?” I heard a voice say.

“No one would want to fuck that cunt of her’s seeing her like that.”

“Filthy prostitute deserves all she gets.”

I listened for over an hour as insult after insult came my way.

“Titless tart!”

“Dirty Pig!”

“Pathetic prostitute!”

“My granny could fuck better than this thing!”

“Filthy cow!”

I expected more ice or other sticky material to be poured over me, and it was. I had eggs crushed on my head, up my bum and in my pussy as others added bags of flour, tins of baked beans, golden syrup and mushy peas to the mess already covering me.

I was some sight sitting naked, covered in wet, sticky, greasy food. I relished every minute of it as I recalled a ‘Wet and Messy’ meet I had attended previously where the guys had also enjoyed getting into the same state and having long, passionate sex while sporting the results of various tins of messy food. I found that hot and exciting, and its memory started that chain wave of response that culminated in another, albeit smaller, orgasm that had me slithering in delight across the bottom of the paddling pool.

Someone on my forum thread had suggested the young men pour a five-litre tin of paint over me, and I would not have put it past them. I was somewhat relieved that they didn’t follow up on that suggestion. In my opinion, nothing beats wholesome sticky food for wet and messy play.

During this time, I was made to sit open-legged and, with the encouragement of more Kurtköy travestileri ice being added, tell the young men the password to my Literotica account. Kevin, or someone, had thought up the great idea of keeping readers up to date with developments as they happened. They also raided my photo archive and private diaries to find new material to post. My eyes were wiped clean to allow me to read Kevin’s description of what had happened and what was still planned. He then recited his post to everyone before pressing the send button.

Eventually, when all tired of watching their slut squirming in melting margarine, ice and other embellishments, I was guided to the shower and allowed to wash.

When I emerged from the shower, of which there were two in the unit, I discovered that the main room was full of camp beds with a queen-sized bed in the middle, and that was mine. Surprisingly, I was allowed to sleep unmolested through the night before being woken at seven to start the new day.

Breakfast was from Mcdonald’s, and I ordered a sausage and egg McMuffin, which, when it arrived, was coated in liberal amounts of jam and marmalade. The gang watched in glee as I gingerly ate this new concoction to set me up for the day of debauchery that lay ahead.

Having slept naked under a duvet kindly provided for my comfort, I was told to put my underwear on and my torn dress because we were going out. I hoped I was not expected to walk anywhere in public wearing a dress in such a state. I had been sent several video clips of women being walked and displayed naked during some humiliation acts. I replied with an ‘Absolutely not’ to the senders. I need not have worried.

We headed out in three cars west of the city and pulled up outside a reasonable-sized granite house. I was quickly ushered inside and met by several older men. These, I discovered later, were aged relatives of the young men I had agreed to serve.

“Okay,” Brett spoke with the authority of a sea captain, “here she is. This is Rachel, a total slut, a complete whore and a dirty bitch. She’s yours for the next three hours, so fuck her, flog her and fill her,”

The older men looked at me in wonder as if I was some apparition. They then tentatively approached as someone might a wild animal.

“You are more beautiful than even your photos,” one of them said as he pushed his hand down the front of his trousers.

“Are you happy and willing for us to play with you today?” another asked.

“Yes,” I replied, looking around at ten men all over sixty and wondering what I had got myself into, “I guess I am.”

“You don’t need to ask her,” Brett interjected, “She’s already agreed. She’s your whore to treat how you like while she’s here. You don’t need her permission.”

“We just wanted to be sure,” the enquirer responded, “and get it from the horse’s mouth.”

“Don’t you mean the whore’s mouth,” another asked to much mirth.

Within seconds my dress, bra and knickers were removed, and I was led upstairs to a substantial bedroom where I was initially closely examined before being made ready to be fucked. I was laid on my back, arms held out, and my legs pulled apart by these men nearly twice my age.

Once in position, the ‘spitting’ ritual began, and I sensed that in giving this disgusting humiliation, the men were getting thoroughly turned on as I was covered in their spittal. My face became not quite a ‘cum dump’ but more a ‘saliva depositary.’

It was quite amusing watching them fiddling and fumbling with their clothing in their excitement to get undressed and fuck their slut lying open and ready for them. Despite their ages, they had lost nothing by way of sexual energy as they lept onto me one after another to thrust their hardened cocks deep into my hairy hole and fuck me stupid.

I lay back on the bed, something like a sex doll, as I was thrust and filled repeatedly by these older sex-charged men until all had taken me up my pussy. They then wanted me to get to work on blow jobs to re-energise their sagging cocks so they could take me up my bum.

Once I had furnished each to their expectation, I was invited to kneel on the bed so my bum was exposed and ready to be pounded by well-used vintage cock. One of the young men took great delight in lubricating my back passage before his grandfather stepped up to thrust inside.

As I was taken in turn, some men grabbed my breasts while others held my head. Two entrants stopped now and again to smack my bum, while another enjoyed pulling my hair as he thrust inside me. I could feel the men’s cum filling my bum and dripping onto the bed upon which I was kneeling.

The young men, some watching grandfathers and uncles fucking me, shouted encouragement, not that the men needed any.

“Take her, Grandpa.”

“Fuck your young bitch.”

“She loves an old-time cock up.”

“Make sure she’s well fucked up.”

Finally, when all the older men had enjoyed breaching my bum and filling my arse with cum, I was allowed to lie on the bed for a couple of minutes respite.

“I Kurtköy travestileri thought you said she was dynamite in bed?” one of the aged men stated.

“We agree she wasn’t very good, was she,” the teenagers responded, “we could see that she was a useless whore.”

“I think you should punish her,” another offered.

“Good idea,” Kevin countered, “I think it will be good to see this bitch punished a little.”

I was grabbed by my arms, hauled off the bed onto my feet, and led downstairs into the lounge. I was held tight by two of the young men while their grandfathers, still upstairs, got dressed and finally joined us. To me, at least, the tension of not knowing what would happen was unbearable.

Finally, the old men entered the room, and I was turned to face them like a criminal facing the firing squad.

“I read you like your breasts slapping,” one of them said.

“She does,” Kevin answered on my behalf, “she’s written about it.”

“I know,” the older man replied, “I’ve read about it in her accounts. She mentioned one of my favourite films and one part where the woman has her breasts slapped.”

“Which film is that?” another asked.

“It’s Japanese and called ‘Beautiful Teacher in Torture Hell,’ you need to view it with the English subtitles.”

“Someone has done a voiceover on it,” one of his counterparts chipped in.

“Have they?”

“Yes, it’s a hot movie and watching it in English makes it even hotter.”

“What’s it about?” one of the younger ones asked.

“A teacher, a beautiful buxom one, unlike this scrawny creature,” he answered, pointing at me, “who is tricked into working at a boarding school. She gets plenty of abuse.”

“Wow, it does sound hot,” Kevin replied.

“The teacher is a martial arts expert and has to fight to save one of her female pupils from the attention of some older male students, but she has to fight naked.”

“That is hot,” Tom added.

“Well, she’s not totally naked,” another of the older crew added.

“True, she wears the protective equipment over her naked body but loses the fight and loses the protection, too, as the young men fuck and film her.”

I wondered if I would be held there all day while everyone else in the room reviewed their favourite porn films.

“You’ve watched that film,” the older man said, looking at me, “you told us in one of your true life stories.”

“I have only seen one part,” I corrected, “Where the lady is tied up and has her breasts slapped. I was shown it before I agreed to visit a bondage basement.”

“Oh. So you haven’t seen all that the girl goes through?”

“No.”

“I wish we could fight you while you’re naked, subdue you and then fuck you,” a further older attendee stated.

“Well, never mind, we want your tits, and as you have seen that part, that’s okay; you know what to expect?” I certainly did.

I had participated in this little scenario on several previous occasions as I was either held or tied while someone slapped my breasts, reminiscent of the part in the film.

As the first man took his stance before me, one of the larger lads slipped his arms through mine from behind to secure me in position.

“Your ring!” someone shouted just as the man lifted the palm of his hand to slap me, and he stopped and looked up.

“Your ring,” the voice repeated, “take it off so you don’t hurt her.”

The man was embarrassed as he removed his signet ring, “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, “I never thought about it, possibly because I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“No more than twenty,” another of the teenagers ordered, “she has a lot more work to do before we let her go.”

Five men were all told they had four slaps each to use as they desired over my breasts. Thankfully, the older generation has always been kinder to me than their younger peers, and these were no exception. Although my breasts stung like crazy as their open hands caught them repeatedly, it was clear to everyone that my detractors were considerate in how hard they slapped me. As I was well aware of what else was expected that day, I was pleased that sore breasts would not stop anyone’s enjoyment, least of all my own.

“I wanted to give her a bare-handed spanking,” another of the golden oldies piped up.

“That’s a good idea,” one of the younger contingent responded, “Like a naughty schoolgirl?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Suddenly, a schoolgirl’s uniform was thrown in my direction.

“Here slut put that on,” I was told.

“With these,” another added, throwing a pair of wide white knickers at me.

“And put your hair into two plats to look the part,” a third ordered. “Come on slutbag, get moving.

Putting on the outfit was one thing, but platting my hair was another that took time.

“Quicker tart, quicker.”

I produced the fastest double plat in world history, held by rubber bands rather than hair bobbles.

“Right, grandad,” one of the young men said, “How do you want her?”

“Over my knee,” he responded with a grin that told Travesti kurtköy everyone he was the cat that had got the cream.

I was marched to him and made to bend over his knee as he sat on the sofa.

“Lift her skirt up, grandad and pull her knickers down.”

Although I could not see, I sensed a look from grandfather to grandson that said something like, ‘I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

He didn’t as he exposed my rear end and enjoyed giving me five of the best on my bare arse while I tried to check my screams and concentrated on making unearthly grunting noises.

“She looks like a pig and sounds like a pig,” a voice stated loudly.

“And we haven’t even hogtied her yet,” another responded to much laughter.

With my spanking complete, I was allowed to stand.

“Strip out of your uniform, you naughty girl,” I was ordered, “and take your plats from your hair.”

I obeyed and stood once more naked before the house full of men.

“Have you got her lunch prepared,” Brett asked.

“They hadn’t until we arrived,” Tynan replied, “but I have overseen everything.”

I was taken into the kitchen and sat on a wooden chair set apart from the table upon which several tins and sauces were placed.

“Grandad, do you want to prepare her lunch as you’re quite domesticated,” one of the younger group asked.

“Yes, I can do that,” an older man replied, stepping into the kitchen.

“I’ve opened everything,” Tynan replied, “it just needs a chef to prepare it.”

I looked in horror at what was on the table: baked beans, mushy peas, golden syrup, tinned fruit, rice pudding, and brown and sweet chilli sauces.

“A little of each, I think,” the chef announced, “but we need some substance, or it will be all too runny.”

“I have a large tin of chocolate pudding,” the house owner responded, “In that cupboard behind you.”

The tin was procured, opened and tipped into a bowl where the contents of the other cans joined it as the culinary master started to mix the revolting concoction. When he was happy that it was ready, several of the junior contingent held me as another pinched my nose tight and pulled my head back while the chef held a spoon to my lips.

“You can do it the hard way or the easy way,” Kevin announced, “it’s up to you.”

I opened my mouth a little, and the spoon was pushed inside. As readers can imagine, the contents were pretty revolting; however, I chewed and ate as best I could.

“Good girl,” Tom told me as though speaking to a baby, “Now don’t spill any ’cause we don’t want our next group to think you’re a dirty old hag who dribbles her food, do we?”

It was impossible to eat the concoction without dribbling; soon, my chest and breasts had several large dollops of the mixture adorning them.

“She’s definitely dirty,” a voice piped up.

“And old,” another added with much merriment.

“As to the hag,” Kevin replied, ‘we can judge that tomorrow.”

I was force-fed for ten minutes before my torn dress was handed back to me, and I was told to put it on without being allowed to clean myself up.

A dog collar was fitted around my neck, and a pair of leads were attached, allowing two men to lead me simultaneously. I was guided out of the house and into a car for the next stage of my sexual use and humiliation.

We travelled less than a mile before stopping in a street of tenement buildings, where I was quickly ushered up two flights of stairs and into a flat. I have no idea what anyone would have thought if they had seen me on the stairwell.

“Here she is, lads, as promised, our super slut,” Kevin announced, “you have two hours to fuck her or do whatever you wish to her. I suggest you use her well without constraint or mercy. Unfortunately, she spilt her lunch down herself, but you don’t have time to clean her up.”

Six young men guided me into a bedroom before shutting the door on Kevin and his friends.

My dress was pulled off, and I was pushed onto the bed as stiff cocks were released from trousers to be used in three parts of my body.

I was quite pleased that the ‘spitting’ scenario was either overlooked or forgotten.

“I thought most whore’s were ugly,” one of the new young men said excitedly as he was undressing, “she’s a cracker.”

“You get all kinds; some are fat ugly bitches that are great in bed and give great fucks. This one looks okay, but I bet she’s a useless fucker.”

It didn’t take them long to find out as one pushed his cock deep into my damp and already well-used cunt while others offered me their rods to wank with my hands.

I was startled when unexpectedly, a shot of warm cum landed on my face discharged from one of the cocks I was massaging. Almost simultaneously, the young Glaswegian lying on top of me and thrusting for all he was worth shot his load inside me, stiffened, held his body rigid and then collapsed onto me, writhing in pleasure.

It is incredible how quickly two hours pass when you are busy and hardly have time to think. I was amazed, and the guys were disappointed when a knock came on the door telling them that their little tete-a-tete with me was over as I had other men to please elsewhere. Once again, I donned my torn and tattered dress and was led out on the dog leads to the car. I was still full of cum, which rolled in sticky dollops down my legs as I walked.

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