SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 07, The Path Gets Darker

KAYLEY GOES DOWN A DARK PATH, PART TWO OF THREE

Leroy grinned at me, then he looked over at Ian. "Our girl here," he said, "she was telling me how bad she needs a cock.

KAYLEY POV

Leroy grinned at me, then he looked over at Ian.

"Our girl here," he said, "she was telling me how bad she needs a cock. Why don't you let her take you to the men's room and help her out."

I took Ian's hand.

The minute we were in the bathroom, I took off the dress and hung it over a stall door. No sense letting it get even more wrecked. It was all I had to wear. Besides, Ian was almost glowing, his desire was so urgent, and wanted to show off.

"What do you think?" I presented my naked body to him.

Well, not completely naked. I still had my ankle boots and heels, and the stockings. But they weren't doing well. Stay ups don't stand up to rough treatment. They had runs and ladders, one knee was going. The elastic on my left had stretched and it sort of hung half way down my thigh. The other was still holding, but the tip of the elastic was curling. Neither were going to last the night. I needed to switch to garter belts.

Apart from that, the only thing I was covered in was sweat... and men, their sweat, their skin oils, their shed skin cells, their saliva and semen, the psychic residue of their lust, and their ownership and use of my body.

"You're hot!" he said. I stepped close to him, he didn't retreat. So I took his hands and put them on my breasts. His palms were sweaty, and he didn't seem to know what to do, he alternately grabbed and stroked, exploring. How many boobs had he touched? I decided I liked his hands on me. I liked strange men's hands on my breasts, it was an epiphany.

"They're real," I said. I'd never even thought about it until Jake asked. Of course they were real, you could tell just by looking. They weren't big enough to be fake.

He wouldn't look in my eyes, playing instead with my breasts. We were so close we could embrace. I reached down, feeling his cock, already hard, already twisted in his underwear. It felt a good size, I could feel myself quiver with need, my body wanting to feel it inside me. I unzipped him and struggled with his jeans, finally kneeling to rolling it out.

"Fuck," I breathed, "it's beautiful."

It was! His cock was like sculpture, the colour of dusted alabaster, every feature exquisite, bluish veins perfectly placed and proportioned, not ugly or intrusive. It was smooth to the touch, like fine silk, the head rolling off my tongue. The shaft was perfectly symmetrical with just the right hint of a subtle upward curve. The head, circumcised, was a graceful symphony of curves, from the glans to the corona, nothing blunt, nothing excessive, just exquisitely balanced. Even the urethra was the exact size and position.

I hadn't seen a lot of cocks. I wasn't a slut, or at least I hadn't been before Leroy. But I was speechless. This was the most beautiful, the most perfect cock I'd ever seen, that I knew I'd ever see in my life.

"Is everything okay," he asked. What was his name? I think it started with 'N.' Norman? No? Fuck it.

"I was just checking," I said quickly. I kissed it. "You have to be careful. It looks good."

"Okay."

"Did you want a blow job?" I said hopefully. "I can do that. Or both, blow job and a fuck."

I closed my mouth around it, shutting my eyes to memorize it's perfect symmetry with my lips and tongue.

"I only want to fuck," he said. "I think maybe I should wear a condom."

"I've been careful for a while," I told him. "Only two men have come in me bare. Leroy, and a fifty year old married man with kids. I'm pretty safe. Are you?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Your call. Wear one, don't. Up to you. But I don't think it's necessary. Are you sure you don't want a blow job? I swallow."

It wasn't until after I realized I'd forgotten someone. Sam.

"I don't mind wearing a condom.," he said politely.

Fuuuuuuuck!

"What do you prefer?" he asked.

"I want to feel you," I told him impulsively. How many men were going to come in me tonight, I wondered? I didn't care. Except this one. I had this mental image of it inside me, the head swelling as it ejaculated, just spurts and spurts, that made my heart skip a beat. I so wanted this one, it was so fucking beautiful.

I let him touch me all over, lifted my leg and parted my lips so he could run his finger between. I showed him my clitoris and how to touch it. I desperately wanted somewhere to lay down on my back so that I could watch it enter me. But the safest thing to do was to bend over the toilet and be taken from behind.

I was so excited to have him in me, I moaned at his touch, before he even entered. I grinned happily as he slid in me bare. He was a good hard fucker once in me, pounding me with steady thrusts that left me arching my back to meet him, spreading my legs and bending my knee slightly to get him perfect.

"I'm coming," he shouted, and I could feel it, the sudden intense thrusting. That set me off.

"Me too," I cried, as the orgasm rolled into me. I felt my pussy squeeze, pushing him out like toothpaste out a tube, and a horrible feeling of loss. "No, no," I cried, humping involuntarily against him, "put it back in, come in me."

"I can't," he said, "you're too tight."

"No!" I was almost weeping with the need to have it in me. "Just shove hard, force it. Do it!"

He tried, but in the end, his cum painted the inside of my thigh. I kissed him on the cheek. I'd finally had the orgasm Jake hadn't delivered.

When I came out, the next one was already sitting with Leroy. He was tall and skinny, with long hair and a beard, jeans and jean jacket. They seemed to be old friends.

Leroy looked up at me as I sat down. "This is Tommy."

Tommy looked me up and down and reached out a hand. Thinking he was offering to shake, I reached out to, but instead, he leaned forward, his hand passed mine, and he copped a feel. Leroy laughed at my shocked expression.

"Nice tit," Tommy said. "Real."

"Kayley here is the real deal," Leroy assured him.

"So we doing this?" I asked. I looked at Leroy, "he paid you?"

They looked at each other and he nodded.

"Okay, fine." I stood up. Tommy's hand was on my ass on the way to the men's room.

Once the door closed, he was all over me, pulling off my dress and leaving it on the floor. His hand went between my legs, finding my clit and sawing against it without finesse, his fingers pushed between my legs. I moaned in spite of myself.

"You're wet enough," he said, "how do we do this."

"In the toilet stall," I said. "I bend over."

"Yeah, okay." He followed me in, unzipping and taking out his cock casually. He didn't even bother to roll down his jeans.

"Do you want a condom?" I asked.

"Do I need one?"

But before I could answer, he thrust inside me all at once, giving me his whole length. There was no foreplay. I gasped out loud.

"Fuck that feels good," I grunted, and it wasn't a lie. It felt good, it felt so good, and as he started to pound me, it felt even better. He held my hips, and gave it to me with a steady relentless pace, as I felt his bare cock pumping away in me and my ass brushing his denim jeans.

"That's a wet cunt," he whispered in my ear. "Tight."

He bent me over the toilet, laying on my back and thrusting up into me, as I struggled for balance, and he groped my breasts. I was a tight wet hole to pump his cock into, and he didn't give a shit about anything else about me.

I loved it! I didn't give a shit about him either. He was just a cock pumping into me, and that cock felt good. It filled me. It made me wet. It sent waves of pleasure through me. I played with my clit while he fucked me.

I didn't come, but it felt good. I swore and talked dirty, but reflexively. I didn't care how he felt, I didn't care about turning him on.

I felt him speeding up, his cock getting harder, his hands gripping my breasts and pulling my nipples painfully. I was nowhere near orgasm, but he didn't care. I was just a hole, and somehow, that made me wetter.

"Come in me," I whispered. "Come in my slut hole. Blow your load in me. Yes. Fuck that hole, that's what it's for, for you to stick your cock in and blow."

I knew he didn't give a shit, he didn't react, his accelerating pace didn't shift. He was on the way to blowing in me and as far as he was concerned, that was exactly it. I was a tight wet hole to blow a load in, and I wasn't anything else.

Knowing that, saying it, excited me. I worked my clit, knowing I couldn't make myself come in time, but almost slapping it in time with his thrusts as he slammed harder and harder.

Then he gave this loud long groan, and jammed into me as hard as he could.

"Yes. Come in that hole. Fill it. Use it."

He laid his weight on my back for a moment, breathing heavily, and then stood up, pulling his cock out.

"Yeah," he said, slapping my ass, "that was a good nut."

Then he walked away. I stayed there bent over, not even fingering my clit, just feeling his come ooze from my opened pussy. I almost expected someone to come in and casually take his place. After a moment, I wiped and went to get my dress.

"Well," I said to no one, "that was romantic."

There's something about having sex with someone you completely don't even give a trace of a shit about. Someone you don't have to think about, you don't have to consider, you don't have to be concerned with their pleasure or doing anything for them, or caring in any way..

Everyone should try it at least once.

Three in a row, I was done. My pussy wasn't sore or anything, but it felt used, and sloppy wet. And I was tired.

I returned to Leroy to tell him I was finished, he'd made his money. I wanted my purse back, and I wanted my phone so I could text Sam. There were men at a table next to Leroy watching as I came back, but I ignored them. They could fuck themselves.

"Hey," I said, as I approached. There was a glass of wine on the table, to remind me I was thirsty. One thing about whoring, you don't have to worry about getting something put in your drink. You're already spreading your legs. It would be a waste of a good date rape drug. Assholes.

"You have my purse?" I demanded.

The man sitting with him was brown skinned, wearing a turban. South Indian. Fuck. I didn't want to seem like a racist. He turned to look at me.

"Oh," I said politely, "hello."

"You are Kayley," he said. "My name is Mandeep, Leroy was telling me about you."

I looked at Leroy. "Friend of yours."

Leroy shrugged. "More an admirer of yours. He came by, so I said he could have a turn... if he paid."

Leroy paused.

"He paid. So he gets a turn." There was something flat and final about it.

My heart started to beat. The kick ass 'I'm quitting now' side of me felt wobbly now in the face of Leroy's unyielding tone.

Our roles had deepened with each encounter, the reality that I was being sold for money, this time to a stranger, and this time only for cash had become blunter. The relationship, the pimp that ran the whore, and the whore did what she was told had hardened.

The only thing that mattered was that I was a wet hole, and he could make money selling it to men to shove their cocks in.

Still, I was tired and fed up, and if someone hadn't been sitting there, I might have told him no. But some shred of politeness and courtesy didn't want to make a scene with a stranger at the table.

And he was black. Not technically black, but East Indian. I felt like I'd be a racist if I turned down an East Indian after fucking four white guys in a row. Weird, I know, but there it was. I looked at Mandeep, and thought... What's one more.

I drank some wine to play for time while I thought about. Mostly, I thought, 'oh fuck it.'

"Okay," I told Leroy, "one more. But that's it."

He nodded.

"Last one, I promise."

Mandeep didn't talk as he followed me to the bathroom.

I took off my dress, naked once again, and leaned backwards against the sink, presenting myself.

"You're very beautiful," Mandeep said. "May I touch you?"

"Sure," I said.

I wasn't really into it. But again, I didn't want to seem like a racist. He put his hands on me, exploring my body. There was something clinical about it. He touched me all over, as if conducting an examination, even turning me around.

He even put his fingers in my mouth, not in a 'pretend my finger is a cock and suck it' kind of way, but pushing my lips, as if checking my gums and teeth. Defiantly, I caught his thumb and pressed my lips around it, pretending it was a cock, that fascinated him.

I let his thumb slip from my mouth, it left a trail of spit down my cheek.

"Do you want me to suck your cock?" I offered. Maybe I could get him to come fast with a blow job and then go get my phone and go home. I had very little sexual energy.

"No."

"No?"

"I want to fuck you," he said. "Then when I'm ready, I will come on your face."

I sighed mentally. Whatever. What an asshole.

"Sounds like fun," I told him. "Are you ready to do it?"

His cock was still tucked away in his pants.

"Do you want a condom," I asked. The vending machine had them, but it wasn't like I had change. He'd have to get it himself. Or bareback. How much semen had been pumped up inside me tonight. I was going to have to shower for an hour.

"I brought my own."

"Do you want me to put it on you?"

"No."

He took it out of his wallet, and turned away from me a little to take his cock out and roll the condom on.

I found that a little rude. I mean, why hide it? It was going to be in me. I could see it was normal sized, but curving strongly, it was like a bow, literally. I was glad I wouldn't have to suck it - it looked like it was designed to trigger a gag reflex.

"Okay," I said, "we do it here."

I went into the bathroom stall to bend over.

"No," he said quickly. "That's dirty. I don't want to go in there."

I stopped. God, he was tiresome. Fussy, that was the word for him, fussy. My pussy was definitely not lubricating right now.

"I want to be able to see you," he said. "Touch you. Not fuck you, bent over like a fat cow."

Yeah, thanks, I thought. Jerk.

I rubbed my eyes. "Okay," I said. "What do you want?"

He guided me until my back was up against the wall beside the urinals. His hands cupped my breasts, and then one reached to feel my pussy. It was the first intimate touch.

"This is good," he said. "I can see everything, touch everything. You are very beautiful, a man should see all of you. You shouldn't hide. Lift your leg.... No, the other one."

"We tried," I said, "it won't work like this."

He moved me a few feet, up against another wall.

"Okay, lift your leg," he helped by lifting it and pulling it open and towards one of the urinals, depositing my boot, so that the high heel hooked inside the lower lip of the porcelain. "There, you are good." He pushed himself up against me, grinding. "Bend your other knee. Yes, that's it. Push your foot out..."

I grunted, not from pleasure, but from the awkwardness of it. The cold wall on my naked back was giving me goosebumps all over, and I was pretty sure that sticking my boot in a urinal was bad for it.

"I told you. This isn't going to-- Wawhg Wow Wow Wow Wow Wow!"

His curved arching cock had found my pussy, and all of a sudden he turned into a jackhammer, punching his way inside, feeling huge because I wasn't as wet, and pumped so hard and fast it knocked the breath out of me. He was a dynamo. It felt like a hundred strokes in two minutes. I'd seen men masturbate so hard and fast that their hands had been a blur, but I'd never been fucked like that.

"Auwhg!" I grunted moments later. Abruptly, just as suddenly, he pulled out, leaving me off balance and near collapse, only is body pressing into me held me up.

"What the fuck was that? Are we done?" I gasped.

"No," he said, his face was shiny with sweat and he was panting from exertion. "Resting."

"Resting?"

"I'm ready!"

"What? Wait! Wawhg!!! WOW wow wow wow!!!!"

He kept doing that. These spells of furious fucking, insanely hard and blindingly fast that made me feel like my insides were a blender. Then he's stop suddenly, and we'd both be panting. My pussy began to lubricate, the weird insane fucking was getting my motor going. But it was so frustrating, he kept stopping.

I realized that he'd fuck hard, and then pull out so he wouldn't come. I tried to grab his ass to hold him inside me, not just to make him come finally, but because this breathless punctuated intermittent fucking was sending me over. When he fucked fast, I was practically hyperventilating, holding on for life. But then he'd stop, and I'd get dizzy. His cock would pull out, and all I wanted was it back to finish the job, to keep going and get me a machine gun orgasm. Or at least fulfill the promise of pleasure that kept receding each time.

He loved my naked body, he ground up against it, he licked my neck, my shoulders and armpit between bouts. but he hardly took off his cloths at all, as if he was hiding his body. I almost wanted to see it, to lift up his shirt or take off his pants to see what was underneath. His breath was in my face, his smell vivid and exotic.

He'd fuck fast and furious for a couple of minutes, and then stop or pull out before he came, then he'd put it back in and go furious fucking. Over and over. I loved the hard and fast, it was almost like an earthquake, he'd pound me so frantically it felt like overdrive. Then he'd stop, and it was jangly and frustrating.

Once, near the end, it felt like I was just being flung towards orgasm, but he stopped and pulled out, and "I'm not paying for you to come." I thought breathlessly, 'you fucker!'

Then after one of the hard poundings, he stepped back. For a second, I felt relief from the absence of his body's pressure. He took another step back. Suddenly, he peeled off the condom. His cock head was a lighter shade than the rest of him, kind of pink.

"Are we done?" I straightened up awkwardly.

"Kneel," he told me, "get down on your knees. I want to see a white girl kneeling in front of me after I fuck her good."

"Do you want me to suck you off?" I was pretty dubious about the extreme upward curve. It looked like a cock made to trigger the gag reflex.

"No, I want to come on your face."

I never really understood facials. As far as humiliations go, ones that you can wipe off in a moment with a damp cloth have to be pretty low on the list. Kinky low-rent asshole.

But he was paying for it, and we were near the end.

"Okay," I said, "kneeling."

I got on my ands and knees. God, this floor was filthy. Didn't they ever clean the place?

"No. Kneel upright, I want to see your tits."

I obeyed and waited. I was still panting, still a little dizzy, my pussy was throbbing, both with need and a kind of buzzed feeling from its brutal handling, and weirdly, or maybe not weirdly, I was kind of wildly horny. If he'd ordered me to masturbate in front of him or fuck myself with a dildo, I'd have eagerly complied.

"You're beautiful" he told me, masturbating furiously. His fist was a blur around his cock. "Your skin so pale. Are you a real redhead?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Good. Your tits are perfect. Your face is like an angel. You should be a model or a movie star. You should be married to a Doctor or an Executive, living in a mansion, with beautiful white children."

"But here you are, kneeling naked on the floor in a dirty bathroom, fucked by anyone with a few dollars. Waiting for me to come all over your face."

I wasn't sure what to say. The sudden left turn threw me. What was going on with this guy? But there was something darkly hot about the degradation. It was true, but there was something deliciously contemptuous about how he said it. As if I deserved, wanted, needed it.

"I paid for you. It was no money at all. I spend more at a restaurant. You're just a cheap gutter whore."

I took a deep breath, excited but disturbed.

"How many men have had you? I bet you can't even count. How many have had you today? I bet you don't even know."

What? Was it a serious question?

"Four," I said.

"No, five..." I'd forgotten Leroy.

"Wait... six?" Sam this morning. I hated that I sounded so uncertain suddenly.

Wow, way to go, Kayley. Fumble much? That was humiliating.

He laughed.

"Whore. That's all you are. All you are good for. You have no other use. Worthless."

"Is your mother alive?" he asked suddenly, out of the blue.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Is your mother alive?"

"Yes," I told him.

"She's alive. Good. She must be a beautiful lady, full of class and distinction. A graceful lady, with high morals."

"I guess," I said. "She's an administrator at a nonprofit."

"An excellent woman. And is your father alive?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"An excellent man, I bet. And important. I am sure he is accomplished, hard working, virtuous. He worked all his life to raise you. He sacrificed so much for you. The happiness you must have gave him growing up, the promise you held up. Seeing you in a white gown, giving you as a bride, children for him to be a grandfather to."

His masturbation sped up, despite his dark complexion, he was almost red in the face. His voice was tight and frantic. How was this turning him on? Was this some sort of hindu thing, recite geneologies while masturbating?

"Such a mother, such a father," he said.

"And their daughter a gutter whore, spreading her legs for scum. Day after day, spreading for strangers cock. Fucked by criminals, and degenerates, by poor men, dirty men. Every one of them, they fuck you, and they know they are better than you."

Oh, I thought suddenly. I see now.

"Does your mother know her daughter is a slut? Does your father know you have taken six men between your legs and your night is only begun? Do they know their daughter is such a filthy whore? A slut.

"That she crawls for her pimps and customers. That you wear their cum on your face."

"No," I said softly, kneeling naked and submissive, stranger's semen oozing from me, as I watched him masturbate. It was a little too close to home and too raw not to feel it.

He was really weird and it was a hurtful weird. Hot shame washed through me, and with it, a filthy heat between my legs, radiating from my pussy.

"They don't," I said quietly.

"They should know," he groaned. "They should know what a whore their daughter is. When I come on your face, I will take a picture and give it to you, and you will text it to them. You will tell them you kneel before brown men, so they can use you like the whore you are. Will you do that. Promise me you will do it."

"Yes," I replied, because it was what he wanted. "I'll send it to them. I'll tell them. I promise."

The thought made me queasy. But wet. When I spoke the word 'promise' it felt like a dark compulsion, as if I might actually do it. I wouldn't. But the idea was vivid and intense.

"You filthy fucking whore," he said, his voice rising in pitch, the words tumbling over each other, "you disgrace your family. You deserve this. You will have brown babies and black babies and you will never even know who their fathers are, so many men will use your worthless body."

With a scream, he grabbed my hair, yanking me forward so hard I almost lost my balance. His cock hit me on the side of my cheek, his blurring fist pushing me away. He ejaculated right in my face, over and over, ropes of semen shutting one eye, crossing my nose, my forehead, my cheeks, my open mouth, my hair. His semen tasted funny on my tongue.

It felt like he ejaculated for a full minute, and even after, his penis seemed to drool a thin river of semen. He seemed to physically deflate, not only his penis shrinking, but all of him diminishing, as if the air had been let out of him.

He wiped his penis in my hair. Gee thanks. This guy! But some dark part of me whispered it was what I deserved.

"Stay," he said. He was almost staggering, but he managed to pull a phone from his pocket and hold it up, taking several pictures. "Stay on your knees, like that."

"Beautiful!" he said finally, looking at them.

"Can I get up?" I asked quietly.

My stomach was churning. I had a bad taste in my mouth.

"Oh yes, sorry," he handed me several paper towels from the dispenser to clean myself with.

Afterwards, he gave me his phone number, and invited me to parties where I could make lots of money.

The sexual fury gone, he seemed like a different man, pleasant, friendly, thoughtful. I struggled to reconcile this new him with the awful man who had used me like a wet rag. I understood that the horrible degrading talk was for him, not me, but it was still bizarre and upsetting. I wasn't sure what to do with it. Maybe other people could just wash if off. But I couldn't shake it.

My stomach churned, yet the experience left me both weirdly elated and excited, almost ravenously sexual, wanting to fuck, practically needing to, wanting to seek out an orgasm, but unsure and dark, uneasy with myself. Part of it was the intense off and on stimulation, the hyper-fucking, that seemed to leave me all revved up.

But there was something else. His words had been awful and upsetting, but something in me had responded, something dark and sexual and eager had risen up, had devoured them and hungered for more. I wished when he'd been saying those things to me, that he'd been fucking me hard instead, not jerking off in front of me. Just fucking me, taking me from behind, so I didn't see his face, but just felt his cock hammering me and his awful words filling my ears. I wished he'd come in me while saying those things. I wished I'd come while he was saying those things.

There had been a moment, when I'd been on the verge of saying it back to him, screaming it back at him. He'd kept going and going, rushing so fast, changing as he went, I hadn't been able to keep up. But it had been there, I'd thought "I know what he's doing, I'll feed him, charge him up."

But right underneath was something that agreed, something that craved humiliation and degradation, that reveled in feeling worthless, and wanted to say it, to shout it, wanted to pour those ugly out the words to him and masturbate to it in front of him.

It had almost left me shaking. He'd touched something.

If Mandeep had not been so frantic to humiliate me, if he'd been slower and more patient, I'd have joined him, deepened it. He would have come so much harder, it would have blown him away.

I supposed I still could. I had his phone number, I could call any time, set up a date, less urgent circumstances. He'd mentioned parties, would they be like that? Would they be like him? Dark and degrading, wallowing in filth?

Abruptly, I felt this deep awful surge, as if a massive oar had been plunged into a bottomless pit of shit, and stirred slowly. My pussy clenched so slowly and fiercely I put my hand over my cunt, to feel semen oozing out from my prior... lovers? No.... Users. Men who used me for a hole.

What the fuck are you thinking! Get your head out of there Kayley, I told myself, fighting the awful gravity of this dark sludge inside me.

I was strangely conflicted, I wanted it to be over, but I needed more. I wanted to be fucked, but I didn't want to talk to anyone.

When I came out, there was another man sitting with Leroy. So much for his promise of 'last one.'

Like... fuck, man.