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  • The Harem Slave Ch. 18

The Harem Slave Ch. 18

Sophie didn't see the Master for several days after that incestuous evening. He knew she was furious with him, and decided to give her a few days to cool down. Even when the old man returned the next day to purchase another evening with his daughter (this time knowingly), the Master turned him away. Shamefacedly, the old man had confessed to many years of lusting for her, and offered twice Sophie's usual price for a chance to put his dick in his daughter again. The Master reluctantly declined.

After such a magnanimous act, however, Sophie was deeply in debt. Exactly seven days after that fateful evening, the Master decided to cash in.

Sophie was sitting alone in her room, reading a book while she ran a vibrating bullet over her clit. So fully engrossed in both activities, she was unaware of the Master as he watched her from the hallway. Through the glass walls, he watched her orgasm again and again, falling back onto the pillows with each overpowering wave of pleasure. Once it subsided, she calmly picked up the book and returned to her reading.

Finally he decided she had had enough. He opened the door and stepped inside. Sophie dropped the book and glared up at him. "What do you want?" she snapped.

The Master was standing over her before she could take a breath. One hand gripped her throat, the other her tiny wrists. Sophie suddenly found she could no longer breathe.

"You will show some respect for the man who has fed, clothed, sheltered and pleasured you for the past month and a half," the Master growled, inches from her ear. "Do not become so self-absorbed that you forget your place. I own you, and I could take your life at any moment."

His fingers tightened, and Sophie was suddenly unable even to gasp or wheeze. Her heart pounded. The light began to dim.

With a sigh of disgust, the Master released her, throwing her forcefully back onto the bed. Sophie gasped, sucking air into her aching lungs. He waited, watching tears stream down her face as she struggled to breathe. When at last she lay still, he continued.

"Because I have spared you from further humiliation, I feel you owe me a favor." His voice was calm, but anger twisted his words curiously. "You will attend a party I am throwing this evening. It will be a small affair, and I guarantee you will be the belle of the ball."

He left the room without so much as a glance back at the startled girl. Sophie lay in bed, shaking, until the maid came to fetch her.

--

The party was not in the ballroom, as Sophie expected. Instead, the maid led her to a room about ten floors below the apartment. It was a small, dimly lit room filled with couches and a fireplace in one corner. By the firelight, Sophie could make out more than a dozen figures. All of them turned to look at her as she entered.

As she walked unsteadily towards the group, she felt someone come up beside her. The Master's voice in her ear was calm but forceful. "You will kneel on all fours on the table in the center of the room. You will do everything you are instructed to do."

Before she could take a step, she felt something clasp around her neck. It was cold and heavy. Looking down, she saw a thick chain hanging from her neck. A forceful slap on her ass sent her stumbling awkwardly towards the table with chain dragging behind her.

Sophie climbed onto the table. It was long, low, and wide, much like a coffee table, constructed of sturdy metal and a thick piece of glass upon which she now knelt.

Her outfit was like a silly school girl's costume she might have worn for Halloween. A tight white crop-top tied below her chest, while a plaid micro-mini skirt sat around her hips. Bent over, her massive tits bulged out of the shirt, threatening to spring free at any moment. The skirt didn't even attempt to cover her ass—only a tiny pair of tight white boyshorts offered her any protection. She wore black thigh-high back-seamed stockings and a pair of black patent leather stilettos. Her hair was pulled back into two long, messy pigtails and she had been given a pair of plastic black-rimmed glasses for the occasion. The only thing that seemed out of place was the iron collar around her throat and the long chain hanging down in front of her.

One of the men stood and picked up the end of the chain. There was a clasp on the end of it, and he attached this to an iron ring secured to the fireplace in front of her. The man chuckled. "She's not going anywhere now, boys! Let's have some fun!"

Sophie's heart pounded. She suddenly felt a hand on her ass. It caressed her round, smooth ass cheeks, lifting the skirt just a little. An accented voice announced, "Gentlemen, I think I'd like to go first."

Suddenly a man came into Sophie's view. He forced a tube between her lips and gently commanded her to drink. As liquid began to flow into her mouth, Sophie obediently began to guzzle it, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. It took a moment for her to realize it was some sort of alcohol, but she continued to swallow it, breathing through her nose.

Minutes past. The men clapped and whistled as she drank more and more. The tube was changed two times, and still she continued to drink. Sophie felt her belly begin to swell with liquid, although the alcohol was enough to dull her senses. She continued.

Seven minutes had passed. Sophie felt as though she would burst. As the last few mouthfuls gushed through the tube, she spat the tube out, gasping. "Please, no more! I can't take any more."

Sophie expected retribution, but the man only set the contraption down and patted her on the head. "There's a good girl."

He sat down. She waited. Minutes passed. Her vision was beginning to blur. Her belly ached. It hung down below her, giving the impression of a six-month pregnancy.

And then she realized suddenly that she needed to pee. Badly.

"Please," she cried, staring wildly around her. "Someone, I need to use the bathroom."

Several of the men chuckled, but most just continued to stare intently at her.

"Please, for the love of god, I can't hold this much longer!" she begged. "Look, you've gotten me drunk, that's what you wanted, now let me pee, please!"

No one said a word.

Sophie moaned. "I will fuck the first man who lets me go. He can have anything he wants. My pussy, my ass, my mouth, anything. Please!"

No one moved.

A groan escaped from Sophie's throat. A tiny droplet of wetness appeared on her panties between her thighs. "Unnngh," she moaned. "I can't...I can't hold—"

The patch suddenly began to spread. The entire strip of fabric that covered her pussy began to darken. Then suddenly the wetness began to seep through, and a few droplets of piss dripped from her panties. In moments it became a stream, splashing down onto the table, soaking Sophie's stockings. She began to cry as more and more liquid flooded from her panties. It became a powerful stream, not merely gushing from her pussy but spraying in a glittering arc several feet behind her. She was rewarded with a groan, and turning to look, discovered she had soaked the man seated directly behind her. She felt vindicated for a moment until she realized he was masturbating. Her piss was only aiding him, lubricating his thick shaft.

Moments passed. Someone stood and pulled her panties down around her knees. Even in such a degrading position, Sophie found she couldn't stop pissing even if she wanted to. The liquid simply kept coming. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her head spun.

Someone commanded her to roll over onto her back. Sophie did so obediently and found herself laying in a puddle of her own piss. The urine continued to spray from her pussy.

She was instructed to put her knees up and lift her ass off the table. She did so, and the arc lifted high into the air, splattering the crowd. A cheer arose from the audience. Sophie closed her eyes in humiliation.

At last the flow slowed to a trickle, eventually ceasing altogether. Sophie collapsed on the table, wet and pitiful and very, very drunk.

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