And so their days together continued. Every morning she blew Mr. Anderson after he took his shower, and awaited Consuela's delivery from the cage in the bedroom afterwards. Consuela gave her long, luxurious baths, lotioned up her body and made her come with her mouth or her hand. She would spend some time immobilized and blinded in her little bedroom, have some lunch and then take the car to the gym where she would be given an intense workout.

When she came back, she would spend some time either naked or wearing one of her pastel sundresses in the den reading or viewing viddys on the CPad Mr. Anderson had given her, her ankle confined by a chain. Consuela would give her her late afternoon orgasm and then lock her in the cage by the top of the stairs until Mr. Anderson came home. When Mr. Anderson came home he would question her about her studies of the afternoon while she knelt with her hands bound behind her at his feet. If he wasn't satisfied with her answers he would have Consuela bring him the quirt and he would give her five hard strokes. Then she would give him oral obeisance.

The second week after their routine began he took her to a party at someone's elegant house. He had her wear the maroon slinky, woolen dress. She stayed as close to him as she could while people talked and laughed all around. Mr. Anderson engaged in multiple vivacious conversations. She tried not to look at the people, conscious of the golden collar and bracelets with his initials that she wore. At one point, as he was bragging about her salaciously, talking about her talented mouth and her energetic fucking, he made her bring back the panels on her dress and fasten them off so he could show off her floral tattoo. Many people commented on it after that, mostly to him, but also to her, which she acknowledged with a nod or other meek expression of thanks. He made her lean back in an easy chair, pulling her knees up high and spreading them so that people could get a good look at her butterflied conch. Several of the people stroked it and played with it until she moistened.

She realized that she was not the only sexually imbonded woman at the party when she saw a young auburn haired woman, her hair back in a long ponytail, scurrying around with trays of hors d'oeuvres. She was wearing a short, frilly white and pink skirt that came only a few inches down her thighs and no top. She had round, bulbous breasts, each sufficient for a large man's hand. Her skin was a little dark, but her breasts were as white as milk, as if maybe they had been bleached somehow. Over her chest was tattooed an intricate, curly, lacy spray of pale red ink that went from just below her neck to the top third of her breasts. On her back were two naked, voluptuous women, one a blond, the other a brunette, locked in a passionate kiss, their breasts pressed together, their hands exploring each other's quims. The girl seemed distressed and she had to stop often to let someone play with her breasts or slide their hand under her skirt.

Ruth was glad to see the guests disappearing. There had been about twenty five or so, but now it was down to three, a man and two elegantly dressed women, plus their host, a short, barrel chested man with a gruff face and short, curly black hair. They all adjourned to a small, well-appointed salon where there were pleasant, padded chairs sitting in a circle as if prepared for a ritual. There was a 6' long 4' wide dark blue mat in the middle. Mr. Anderson instructed her to take her dress off and get in the center. She did so reluctantly and sadly. The other girl joined her, her little fluffy, pink and white skirt discarded. The lacy designs above and partially on her breasts were duplicated across her lower belly and over her plump, hairless mons.

Mr. Anderson told her what he expected her to do and she sank to her knees as the auburn haired girl did the same. The girl, no more than maybe 22 or so, seemed nervous and afraid. Ruth tried to calm her by stroking her cheek and making soft eyes to her. This seemed to help and the girl gave her a slight smile. Ruth leaned over, placed her hands on the girl's shoulders and gave her a soft, deep kiss. The girl placed her hands on Ruth's hips and reciprocated. Their breasts and bellies pressed together.

In a short while, they were sighing and moaning. Ruth dropped her hand to the auburn haired girl's quim and began to stroke it gently. The girl wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in tightly. Ruth soon had her pussy flushed and responsive and the girl started to issue little moans. She guided her to her back, kissed and suckled at her breasts and then lowered her head across her belly down to her crux. She spread her thighs with her hands and dropped her mouth to her sex.

Ruth tried to block out her consciousness of the several pairs of eyes watching her. She concentrated on the aroma and taste, things so familiar to her. It made her think of Sheila and Celia from back at the center. It made her think of the hundreds of women she had coupled with at the command of customers over the years. It was nothing new to be performing salacious acts before an audience. She kept on telling herself that she was pleasing Mr. Anderson, that she was doing something that he wanted. That was the most important thing, and not to disgrace him. She would put on a good show.

The girl was moaning and writhing before her. Her hands had landed on her head and she was pressing her face inwards. She gasped and sighed and moaned as Ruth worked her quim. Ruth suckled long and hard on her rigid button and the girl writhed beneath her. She began to shake and groan and cling desperately to her hair. She gave a final, explosive shudder and she went limp.

Their host issued her a sharp instruction. The girl rose to her knees and pushed Ruth to her back. She kissed her fervently and then descended to her breasts, kneading and massaging them, tormenting her nipples and then dragged her lips down, down, down until she reached her crux. She lapped and suckled and kissed and tormented with her tongue until Ruth was squirming and moaning under her in her turn. The lust inside her built and built and built until it exploded and she called out and groaned and writhed and shuddered as the pulses of pleasure from her puss reverberated all through her. The girl was slowing her efforts when her owner gave her another sharp command. The girl rose, swung her hips the other way and mounted her, spreading her legs and proffering her pussy to Ruth's mouth. Ruth circled her arms around the girl's graceful thighs and pressed her mouth against her already mushy puss. She felt the girl's lips seize her little nubbin and begin to suckle.

They went at it for a long while. Every once in a while Ruth would have to stop and groan and moan as the pleasure from the girl's mouth rushed through her. The girl pressed her loins down hard as her mouth energetically gemauched her. Ruth came again when she felt the girl above her shudder and heard her scream. The girl's mouth just kept going and going and she built her up to a third orgasm, a sensation that made Ruth shudder with expectancy. As with Mr. Anderson's hand, or prick or mouth, or Consuela's ministrations, a powerful urge to revolt rose within her. She wanted the mouth to stop, to let her breathe. To let her stand up and leave the room. But she had no power to make it so. She could only endure, endure, endure, even as the mouth sent wild tendrils of ecstasy all through her.

When they had both come a third time, the gruff man relented. He asked Mr. Anderson's permission, which was graciously given, and he called Ruth over to him. His rigid cock was out of his pants and he was stroking it. Ruth didn't need instruction. She lowered her mouth around his meat, crossing her wrists behind her back and went to work. She soon had the man moaning and groaning. She heard the other man, the one with the two women, start to groan and moan and she knew what the auburn haired girl was doing.

The man took control of her head with a hand firmly gripped in her hair and he started pumping her head up and down over his cock at his own pace. He would have her give him long, slow strokes and then accelerate her into short and fast ones. He pressed her head down as far as he could as he forced himself into her throat, holding her there for the longest time until she began to struggle and choke and whine. She heard the other man call out his pleasure, but the man that was using her kept going. Finally, he drove her head up and down at a furious pace while he growled and groaned. He spilled himself inside her mouth. She dutifully consumed his spume.

The grouchy man sent the auburn haired girl out for another round of drinks. She served them all, while they joked and laughed and commented on their performance. Ruth just knelt there dejected and sad.

When it was time to go, one of the women asked if she could come by Mr. Anderson's house and "play" with Ruth one day. Mr. Anderson said that it was okay by him as long as she had her RM's permission. The unknown man spoke up and said, "By all means," as long as they made a viddy for him to enjoy.

Once back in the car for the ride home, Anderson patted her on the knee and told her that she had been marvelous. "Top notch!" he told her. She began to cry.

"What's the matter?" he asked, incredulous.

She tried to stop crying but couldn't. "N-nothing, sir," she replied unhappily.

"Don't tell me nothing, Ruth!" he spat at her. "That's just a fucking lie. And whores get punished for lying!"

"Y-yes, sir," she answered. She tried to say more, but found it to be impossible.

"Was it because I ordered you to fuck that girl? Because if it is, we've got some very serious straightening out to do!'

"N-no, sir," she answered fearfully.

"Then what the fuck is it! If you don't tell me now, you're going to be one very sorry bitch!"

"Please don't make me go fuck that man, sir," she squeaked out.

"What?"

"Please don't lend me to that man. He frightens me," she whined.

"Stop the car!" Anderson ordered. The car automatically pulled to the side of the road and came to a stop. He turned to her. "Let's get something straight here!" he yelled at her. "I own you. You don't own me! Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, sir," she whined back.

"I can do anything I want to you. I can make you fuck fifteen different men a day if I wanted! I could sell you to Manny! You remember Manny, don't you? Do you want to go to work in his biker bar?"

"N-no, sir" she whined. She was just barely holding herself back from breaking into sobs.

"Or I could have you declared GU and sent to a disciplinary center, do you want that?"

"N-no, sir!" she exclaimed.

"Or I could call Rocco Marchetti. I'm sure that he would like to have you back. Do you want that?"

"N-no, please don't do that, sir! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Take off your fucking dress!" he ordered her.

She quickly raised the hem of the maroon gown and pulled it up to her hips. She lifted her behind, brought it over her head and removed it.

"Throw it in the back seat!" he snapped.

She did what she was told.

"You're going to get out of the car and you're going to get in the trunk! Understand?"

"Please don't make me do that, sir," she whined and began to sob.

"This is just fucking incredible!" he exclaimed. "How about if I send you on the next boat to China? Or would you like to be a whore in Nairobi or Kinshasa?"

"N-no, sir, please!" Ruth whined.

"Then get out of the car and get in the fucking trunk!"

Ruth's door popped open. There was considerable traffic going by and Ruth was shamed to be out of the car naked. She went around to the back of the car. The trunk was open and waiting for her. She unhappily climbed in. As soon as she was scrunched inside, the lid closed. She was subsumed in absolute darkness.

The car started moving again. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She had committed two major sins. She had questioned Mr. Anderson's authority over her and she had disobeyed a direct order. She cursed herself and cursed herself. She had ruined everything! Now what was going to happen to her?

It was another half hour before the car reached Mr. Anderson's house. She expected him to pop the trunk and lead her into the house and beat her to within an inch of her life. She heard the driver's door open and close and then there was nothing. There was only silence. She imagined all kinds of things. She imagined Mr. Anderson just giving the car instructions and her being delivered back to that man for the night. Or being delivered to Manny's biker bar. Or maybe to a DCR station where she would be held until there was a hearing in which she would be declared grossly unruly and shipped to a Disciplinary Sexual Service Center. Or maybe back to Rocco's, where Rocco would be waiting for her with a whip and a sneer.