Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Hungry Guy
Title: HUNGRY FOR MONIQUE
Universe: Hungry For
Summary: Nosy TV reporter tries to do an expose on a kink club and
learns a hard lesson in BDSM.  Written at the request of a fan who, in real
life, is a genuine celebrity--a well-known TV reporter.
Keywords: M/F fist tort nc Mdom exhib oral bd va humil Celeb Fpov
Language: english

   HUNGRY FOR MONIQUE BY: Hungry Guy (hungry@stoolmail.zzn.com)

   Monique read the teleprompter, looking directly into the camera, as she
wrapped up tonight's report.  "...and that's tonight's national news
headlines for this Friday.  Next up, let's see what Ken has to say about
tomorrow's weather.  Edison Carter has the local news after the weather. 
Stay tuned to Network Twenty Three for Missile Mike after the news."

   "Camera two, zoom out.  Camera three, lead the weather man.  You're on,
Ken.  Cue Doppler on blue-screen.  Fade to camera three.  Good job,
Monique!"

   Monique walked off the sound stage and walked down the hallway to her
office.

   "Monique!  Got a minute?" the news editor called out.

   "Sure, Murray.  What's up?"

   "Last week, didn't you ask me if you could do a story on the bizarre sex
trade?"

   "Yes.  Do you have any leads?"

   He handed her a file folder.  "There this new club down on Fourteenth
Street called _Edge Play._ Sources report some bizarre goings on down
there, you know, transvestite slave auctions, that sort of thing."

   "Oh yes, I remember a story that came over API a few weeks ago.  Some
guy got bought in a slave auction there and then disappeared.  Then he was
brought to that hospital for torture victims in Copenhagen under very
strange circumstances.  I'm surprised no one picked up that story.  And
then there's that guy they found hanging by his balls from a fire escape
the morning of nine eleven not too far from that club.  That didn't make
the news either, of course."

   "Yup!  There's something funny going on down at that club, Monique.  So
if you want the story, its yours."

   "Thanks, Murray!  I'll stop by the club tonight."

   "Talk to Theora before you go if you want a crew."

   "Nah, I'm just going to check it out for a few minutes on my way home."

   Monique returned to her office and changed to jeans and sweatshirt in
her dressing room.  Then she stopped in to makeup on her way out.

   "Hi Monique.  How can I help you tonight?"

   "I'm checking out a lead on my way home tonight, Carol.  It's for an
undercover story.  I just need a temporary disguise."

   "Sure thing.  Have a seat.  I'll give you a 'Senator's aide', okay?"
referring to the disguise she used to get information from a Senator's aide
last week.

   Monique sat in the salon chair while Carol gave her a temporary hair dye
and makeup to change her highlights.  Monique also put brown contacts over
her hazel eyes.

   A little later, Monique exited the private elevator reserved for the top
stars into the private parking level and approached a row of black Lincoln
Town Cars.  Her driver was out of one car and had the door open when she
reached it.

   "I take it we're not going home, Ma'am?" the driver asked raising his
eyebrow at her disguise.

   "No Bill.  Take me down to Fourteenth Street.  I'm onto a story that I
think might be interesting."

   "Yes, Ma'am."

   The traffic down Fifth Avenue was horrendous as usual, so she took her
cell phone out of her purse and placed a call.

   "Hi honey, I missed the sports report, how'd you do?"

   ...

   "Well, congratulations, dear.  That's three games in a row.  You're
going to win the Stanley Cup this year.  I just know it!"

   ...

   "Me?  Oh, I'm just off to scope out a story about that kinky sex club I
told you about."

   ...

   "Yeah, Murray _finally_ gave me the story!  Isn't that great?"

   ...

   "Oh, I miss you too.  You'll be back home next week, right honey?"

   ...

   "I can't wait!  See you then!  Love you!"

   ...

   "Bye!"

   The car stopped in front of _Edge Play_ soon after the club opened.

   Monique stood before a pair of plate glass doors in a stainless steel
frame on an, otherwise, featureless gray stucco building, the entrance to
_Edge Play._

   She entered and walked down a short hallway, past a BDSM bookstore on
the left and a novelty store on the right, around a corner and down a short
hallway.  A bouncer was standing at a podium in front of a pair of elevator
doors.

   "ID, Ma'am?"

   Monique showed the man her license.

   "Okay, go on in," he said absently.

   "No cover?" she asked, wondering if he recognized her and was letting
her in for free.

   "There's no cover.  Some of the services downstairs are," he paused and
grinned, "personal." Getting serious again, he continued, "It'd be like we
were charging for prostitution if we charged a cover.  If it's free to get
in, it's perfectly legal.  They make up for it with the price of drinks
anyway."

   Monique shrugged and entered the waiting elevator.

   She rode the elevator down and exited into another short corridor,
passing a political poster that said:

   ###

   _Defend our lifestyle against the Puritans, moralists,

   censors, and control freaks -- vote Libertarian!

   ###

   "Hmmm," Monique thought to herself, "damn Libertarians are everywhere
these days!  I wonder if Koppel has done a story about this place for
Nightline yet?"

   Proceeding down the corridor, she came to a schedule of events.

   ###

   _Cass Carnaby Five live tonight_

   _Big Boob Parade in Blue Dungeon at 8:00_

   _Branding Demonstration in Orange Dungeon at 8:00_

   _Co Ed Tandem Beer Pissing Contest in Red Dungeon at 9:00_

   _Comedy King in Yellow Dungeon at 9:00_

   _Hot Male Revue in White Dungeon at 10:00_

   _Master of Illusion in Green Dungeon at 10:00_

   _Slave Auction in Blue Dungeon at 11:00_

   _Torture Demonstration in Violet Dungeon at 11:00_

   ###

   Looking down, she saw that there were narrow colored lines on the floor
leading away from the wall under the sign.  The colored lines streaked away
into the room where they split up and each went their separate way into
smaller rooms and corridors.

   She ignored the rainbow on the floor and walked over to the bar and paid
$10.00 for a White Russian -- at least it was a fairly large glass that
would last a while.  Then, drink in hand, she found an empty table in the
main room.  Then she watched and listened.

   The band, five guys in pastel blue leisure suits, were playing a bossa
nova tune.  She had expected a lot of leather and scene garb, and
outrageous antics, but most of the people were dressed in street clothes,
talking quietly.

   After a half hour she stood and explored some more.  She walked through
the maze-like club through all the smaller rooms.  She found a small room
that was relatively empty and took a seat at another empty table.  This
room was much more interesting.  Over at one table, a group of men were
sitting.  But they weren't sitting on chairs.  They were siting on the
backs of women who were all on their hands and knees while dressed
head-to-toe in black leather.

   On one wall, was a topless woman in leather pants chained spread-eagle
to a big wooden "X" mounted on the wall with her feet dangling inches off
the floor.  She seemed to be a prop of the club for no one was paying any
attention to her.  Monique quietly turned on her micro cassette recorder,
checked the microphone under her collar, and walked over to her.

   "Hi," she said, "What are you doing hanging on the wall here?"

   "Hello Mistress.  It's a service of the club.  They let masters park
their slaves on these Saint Andrews Crosses while they go and party."

   "So you're a slave?"

   "Yes, Ma'am."

   "And your master 'parked' you here while he is enjoying himself
elsewhere in the club?"

   "Yes, Ma'am."

   "How long have you been here?"

   "I'm not sure exactly how long, Ma'am.  Maybe about am hour."

   "And when will he return for you?"

   "He didn't say, Ma'am.  He usually likes to close the club on Friday
nights."

   "So you're going to wait here, shackled to the wall, for him until two
A.M.  or so?  While he's having fun?"

   "Yes, Ma'am."

   "And this is okay with you?"

   "He owns me.  He can do whatever he wants to me."

   "I see." Monique returned to her seat and made some comments onto the
tape before stopping the recorder.

   She continued exploring the club, losing track of time.  Looking at her
watch she said to herself, "Look at the time, it's after ten thirty
already!"

   She stopped into a restroom labeled, "Alternate Ladies' Room" before
leaving.  Passing a row of sinks, she was pleased to see that each toilet
was in a private little room rather than just surrounded by those flimsy
metal partitions that give no privacy.  She closed the door and looked down
and let out a gasp.  In the hole in the middle of the toilet seat was a
mannequin's head.  Wait -- no -- a real man's head -- as if his body was
embedded in the wall behind the toilet.

   Monique looked down at him looking up at her and backed out of the
stall. She hurried out of the restroom and waited in the corridor for a
moment.  Quickly regaining her composure, she turned on her recorder and
went back inside the restroom.  She chose a different stall this time and
closed the door.

   Looking down, Monique saw that there as a woman in this stall.  Her face
was framed by the toilet seat as if her body was also embedded in the wall.
But for the life of her, Monique couldn't think of anything to say --
unusual for a reporter with her usual nerves of steel.  Realizing that she
had to go pretty bad, Monique decided to try her services.  She turned to
face the door, and pulled her jeans and panties down.  She hesitated a
moment before taking a seat on the woman's face.  It was eerie to be
exposing herself to a total stranger, a woman yet, and about to sit on her
face.  Monique reminded herself that she wasn't being gay -- she just had
to use the toilet really bad, and as they way, "When in Rome..." So she sat
and squirmed a moment to position her clit over the woman's open mouth. 
Her bladder was nearly bursting, so she peed easily enough.

   Surprisingly to her, the woman didn't seem to have any problems
absorbing her pee.  She emptied her bladder after a moment and then stood
again.  She tore off a stream of toilet paper and wiped herself and then
wondered what to do with it.  Seeing a trash bin mounted on the wall, she
tossed it in there.

   She pulled her jeans back up and exited the stall, feeling mildly giddy
from the experience.

   After washing up in the restroom, she found her way back to the corridor
to the elevator to leave the club when she noticed the event schedule on
the wall again.  She peered at the last two entries again.

   ###

   _Slave Auction in Blue Dungeon at 11:00_

   _Torture Demonstration in Violet Dungeon at 11:00_

   ###

   "Hmmm," she thought, "either of those might be worth observing." She
spun around and followed the blue and violet lines into the room.  The two
lines stayed together to leave the room and go down a short corridor.  They
entered a small lounge room where they split up to, each go down a
different corridor.

   She flipped a coin.  Heads, follow the blue line to the slave auction.
Tails, follow the violet line to the torture demonstration.  She tossed the
coin and caught it in the back of her hand clasping it with her other hand.
Lifting her hand revealed the head side of the coin.

   She followed the blue line into its corridor and around a corner, past
more rooms, where it veered into an open doorway.

   There was a table sign just inside the doorway piled with flyers.  The
blue dungeon was a small assembly room decorated in the motif of a medieval
torture chamber.  She took a flyer and read it over.  It explained how the
slave auction worked.

   Every time you enter the club, you are given 10 slave points.  That must
mean she had 10 points to her name right now.  You can offer yourself for
sale, and the high bidder gets you as their slave for 24 hours.  You also
gain 10% of their bid amount added to your total number of points.

   To offer yourself, you sign a release form stating your sexual
orientation: straight, gay, or bi.  If you're straight, you're only offered
to masters of the opposite gender; if you're gay, then only to masters of
the same gender; and if you're bi, you are offered to anybody.  You give
your minimum bid, which works much like the "reserve price" on eBay -- you
only get sold if someone bids at or above your minimum bid.  You also list
your limits and print your safe word -- they recommend "may day," but "red"
is the customary safe-word.  If a slave refuses to do something that he
didn't list as one of his limits, then the slave is banned from the club
for life.
On the other hand, if you buy a slave, you can't leave the premises with
your slave except under special circumstances.  For this reason, there are
suites that you can rent for the night like a hotel room -- with a bedroom,
bathroom, kitchenette, and dungeon.  Likewise, a master who violates a
slave's limits is banned for life from the club and is reported to all the

newsgroups.

   Monique barely gave it a thought -- what a way to get a story from the
inside!  She filled out the form and gave it to the couple sitting behind
the table.

   She listed her orientation as straight, but she wasn't sure about what
limits to list.  She put down, "No children or minors," but couldn't think
of anything else to list as a limit.  She also gave no minimum bid.

   They gave her a numbered tag and told her to go wait into the back room,
pointing to a door on the rear wall of the room.

   She entered the changing room.  A woman dressed all in black leather
looked at her tag and ordered her to strip naked and put her clothes in a
like-numbered Tupperware bucket.  She hesitated, seeing that the room
contained about twenty other slaves-to-be -- both male and female, some
naked and others becoming so.

   "Now, slave!" the dominatrix yelled at her at her moment's hesitation.

   "Yes, Ma'am," Monique meekly answered, shocked at being addressed this
way.  As a TV anchorwoman, she was accustomed to being treated
oh-so-courteously all the time.  Oddly enough, being without her press
pass, recorder, microphone, and notebook made her feel more vulnerable than
her nakedness.

   She took a seat in one of the folding chairs there and the auction got
started out in the blue dungeon.

   One by one, the auctioneer brought the slaves out to the auction block
as Monique waited her turn.  About halfway through the auction, when about
half of the slaves had been auctioned off, the auctioneer ushered her out
into the room.

   Her face turned beet-red as she stepped up, buck naked, on a pedestal,
and faced the small crowd.

   The auctioneer started the bidding, "Here we have a newcomer to the
scene.  She's five feet six and 118 pounds.  Just take a look at that
beautiful head of red hair, at those big brown eyes, and those firm breasts
and buttocks."

   She almost spoke up at that description of her when she remembered she
was still in disguise.  Her blonde hair and hazel eyes were well hidden.

   The auctioneer continued, "She's straight, so only guys can bid.  She
has no experience, but such a beautiful woman rarely comes our way.  Do we
have an opening bid, fellas?"

   The audience murmured.  After a few moments, Monique worried that no one
was going to bid on her.  Then a big burly biker-looking guy opened the
bidding by calling out, "Two hundred slave points!"

   The auctioneer announced, "We have a bid of two hundred for this fine
specimen of womanhood.  Surely such a catch can command a higher price. 
Can we have a counter bid?"

   At that, another bid came from a beefy black guy dressed in the usual
black leather, "I bid two hundred and fifty!"

   The auctioneer continued his pitch, "We have a bid of two fifty!  Anyone
care to up that?  Come on ladies and gentlemen!"

   Then a geek in a jeans and a _Tech TV_ T-shirt yelled out, "I'll pay
three hundred for the bitch!"

   "Three hundred, folks!" the auctioneer called out.  "The bidding is
getting serious now."

   "Four hundred!" from the black woman.

   Then an older bald man wearing the seemingly obligatory black leather
called out, "Four fifty!"

   The biker dude who opened the bidding called out, "Five hundred!"

   Geek called out, "Six hundred!"

   The black dude countered, "Seven fifty!"

   "Wow!" the auctioneer announced.  "We have quite a bidding war here,
folks.  Anyone else care to make a bid before her price gets too high? 
Come on folks!"

   A smallish Chinese man called out, "I bid one thousand points!"

   After a pause, the auctioneer called out, "Wow, we're up to one gee
already!  Can anyone top this?"

   "One point two," geek called out.

   "Can someone top twelve hundred?" called out the auctioneer.

   The crowd started to murmur a little, then the auctioneer announced, "We
have a final bid of one thousand two hundred!  Going once!  Going twice! 
Gone for one thousand two hundred slave points to Hungry Guy."

   Hungry Guy approached the podium.  The auctioneer clicked a leash to
Monique's collar and handed the leash to him.

   That moment felt so humiliating, yet erotic, for her -- standing there
completely naked while a total stranger held a leash attached to a collar
on her neck.

   Hungry Guy led Monique by her leash into the back room and then through
to an adjoining room.  Purchased slaves were there getting dressed, some in
their original clothes, and others in fetish-wear provided by their new
masters.

   He asked one porter, "Please bring my slave's clothes in here to me."

   Then, to Monique, he handed her a leather and steel mesh garment and
said, "Put this chastity belt on, bitch."

   Monique gasped, but pulled the chastity belt up -- this was her idea,
after all.  He then belted it and clicked a padlock onto the clasp over her
crotch.  He also latched a padlock to her leash and collar.

   The porter then returned with the plastic tub that she placed her
clothes in before the auction.

   "Thank you," he told the porter as he took the bin.

   He then yanked on her leash hard as he led her out of the room with a
curt, "Come."

   He led Monique through the club.  People at tables barely seemed to
notice a man leading a naked woman by a leash as if this was a common
occurrence here.  After passing through the warren of rooms and corridors,
they stopped in front of another dungeon.  Monique gasped when she realized
where she was -- the torture demonstration.

   Upon walking inside, past a couple of big beefy bouncers watching the
room, Monique couldn't believe her eyes.  She had expected it to be some
lame fake show.

   Upon walking inside, there was a woman hanging by her breasts from a
pulley in the ceiling.

   Next they passed to a man shackled spread-eagle to a giant wooden X
standing upright.  He was naked, and he had a sort of collar wrapped around
his balls.  Hanging from that collar was a cloth sack containing what
seemed like a bowling ball.  A woman in leather occasionally touched the
ball with her foot, sending it swinging back and forth.

   Next, was a woman laying on her back on a low wooden platform with her
feet hanging over the ledge.  Monique almost puked when she saw the woman's
feet, for they were all slashed and blistered.  One of her toes was cut
off, and a couple of her toes were missing their toenails.  In a tray at
the base of the table were assorted bottles labeled, "Sulfuric Acid" and
"Rubbing Alcohol." Monique looked away as they walked past.

   Next, there was a woman straddling another sawhorse.  The top beam was
made into a point lengthwise.  She was standing on her tiptoes while her
wrists were bound together over her head and toed to a shackle mounted in
the ceiling.  As Monique watched, the victim lowered herself onto the beam,
sit for a few moments, then lift herself back up on her toes, then sit,
then stand.  Her constant rising and lowering reminded Jack of someone
riding a horse.

   They stopped at an unoccupied sawhorse at the rear of the room.

   "What are you planning to do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

   "You didn't list any limits, so I thought I might start with some tit
torture, then move to your cunt, and maybe a few of your other holes."

   He led her up to the sawhorse and told her to lean over it.

   "Wait," Monique hesitated, "I'm having second thoughts about this."

   "Shut the fuck up, bitch and get that ass in the air!"

   Monique was shocked at being addressed this way.  Never before had
anyone spoken to her so rudely.  Yet, Monique was frustrated dating men who
treated her like gold and would never dream of getting rough with her. 
Even her hockey player boyfriend handled her like delicate china.  She
wanted to be treated like a woman, not a pampered puppy, so she decided to
play along.  She bent over the sawhorse as instructed.

   He shackled her ankles to the two wooden legs on one side, and then
shackled her wrists to the two wooden legs on the other side.  This left
her bare ass sticking up in the air above the horse.  He then removed the
chastity belt and the other objects, exposing her pussy and asshole for all
to see.  He pulled a large wheeled toolbox from next to the saw horse and
opened it up, revealing a wide variety of sex toys, kitchen gadgets, and
bottles of unidentified fluids.

   The first thing he did was to reach under and attach a nipple clamp to
each of her nipples.  Yeow, that stung!

   A small number of observers had gathered behind her, though her view of
them was upside down through the sawhorse what with her upper body bent
over the horse with her head hanging just inches above the floor.

   "Hello folks," Hungry guy said to his spectators.  I'm making a special
offer.  I'll insert a number of interesting objects into my slave's pussy
and asshole, for a price.  He handed them sheets of paper, presumable with
his price list printed on it.  He must have had this all planned out before
he bid on her, she realized.

   One of them said, "I'll pay you one slave point to see you stick a dildo
up her cunt."

   They exchanged some slips and then Hungry Guy reached into his tool
chest and pulled out a dildo.  He shoved the dildo into her pussy.  "Yeow!"
she yelled again -- it hurt being that she was dry.

   "Silence, bitch!" Hungry Guy yelled at her.

   A woman observer then said, "I'll pay two slave points to see a vibrator
up her asshole."

   "You got it, Mistress," Hungry Guy answered.  He reached into his tool
box and pulled out another dildo.  He started it humming and shoved it up
her asshole.  "Gaaaaah!" she screamed.  Oh God, that hurt!

   "I said be quiet, whore!"

   Oh God, she thought, it felt like she had to take a huge shit.

   Then another guy standing there pointed to the toolbox and said, "I want
to see _that_ up her pussy!"

   "Sure thing," Hungry said as he picked out what looked like a metal hand
mixer, the kind with the steel wires in the outline of a large pear
attached to a plastic handle.  He pulled the dildo out of her and then
pressed the large end of the mixer to her pussy.  He gradually increased
the force, until her pussy relented and admitted the object.

   "Ow!  Ow!  Owww!" Monique yelled at this latest intrusion.

   "How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet, cunt?" Hungry asked
her again.

   Monique struggled against her restraints, thinking they were probably
flimsy against brute strength, but they proved to be quite strong and
securely attached.

   Another man walked up to Hungry.  "How big can you open her asshole with
that speculum?" he asked pointing into Hungry's tool chest.

   "Let's find out," Hungry replied.

   To Monique's relief, Hungry pulled the vibrator out her asshole.  The
relief was short-lived as Hungry inserted another cold metal object into
her asshole.  She felt it go deep up her ass, deeper than the vibrator.

   It wasn't so bad -- at first.  Hungry started turning a knob on the
speculum, causing its "fingers" to slowly spread apart.  She felt it spread
her asshole open -- a little at first, then it was stretched until it hurt.


   "Gaaaak!" she let out yet another scream.

   "Damn, you're a noisy trollop!"

   He continued fiddling with it and it hurt more and more.

   " OWWWW!  OW!  OW!  OW!  GAAA!  OW!"

   Hungry mentioned to the guy, "I've got her asshole open to about two
inches.  How's that?"

   He answered, "I'll give you five more slave points if you can spread her
asshole open two more inches."

   "I can probably do that."

   "EEEEYOWWWW!  OWWWW!  EEAAAGGGHHH!  OWWWW!  YEOWWW!"

   "There, how that view?"

   "Wow," the spectator said, "I never seen an asshole open so wide!"

   Another spectator walked up and asked, "I see some bottles of stuff in
your toolbox.  Can you pour anything in her asshole for a price?"

   "Sure thing!  Let's see.  I got liquid hand soap, Top Job cleaner,
kitchen floor wax, bleach, ammonia, rubbing alcohol, and plain old water.
What do you want in there?"

   "How about the floor wax?  That's one I never seen used before?"

   "Sure thing, but first," Hungry pulled a bedpan out of his toolbox and
slid it under the sawhorse in front of her face, "this will be like giving
her an enema.  She's probably gonna shit from this."

   "Oh, please, no!  Don't do this to me," Monique begged.

   "Shut the fuck up, cunt!" Hungry yelled yet again.

   Then hungry took a funnel and the floor wax from out of his tool box and
slid the point end of the funnel into her spread-open asshole.  She heard
him fumble with the bottle of wax and then felt something icy cold fill her
rectum.  A moment later, she felt a cold liquid drip out her asshole, and
down over her pussy.  Most dripped from her crotch into the bedpan, and
some dribbled down her legs to her feet and onto the floor.  Being as the
bedpan was only inches from her upside-down nose, she immediately
recognized the odor of kitchen floor wax.

   "I'll give you more slave points if you add something else to the mix."

   "Sure thing.  What do you want me to add?"

   "How about some rubbing alcohol."

   "Great Choice!  That's really going to burn."

   "Yeah!"

   "Oh God, no!" Monique thought silently as Hungry uncapped the bottle of
rubbing alcohol and poured some into the funnel.

   The other guy was right.  Her ass felt like it was on fire when the
alcohol flowed in.

   "Geeyoooow!!!  Yaaaah!  YAAAAH!  GOD, IT BURNS!  OWWWWWW!  OWWWW! 
OWWWWWW!"

   "Will you shut the fuck up, hole!" Hungry yelled.

   At that, she felt a boated feeling, then felt wet flowing over her pussy
and dribbling down her legs.  Next she saw wet shit drop into bedpan in
front of her nose, and dribbling down her legs."

   "Well, what do you know?" Hungry said, "The floor wax and alcohol must
have acted like an enema.  Look at the shit just pouring out her asshole
and down her pussy!"

   "Yeah!  Cool!  It sure stinks, though!  I gotta move on." the other guy
answered.

   "Yo!  Bro," some big black guy called out as he walked over, "how about
that plastic spatula?"

   "Sounds good!  Which hole ya' want in it?"

   "Her cunt, I guess.

   "You got it!" Hungry pulled out the metal hand mixer and then pressed
brought the plastic blade of the spatula to her cunt.  He held it to her
hole at an angle with one of the points pressing into her opening, then he
pressed it in.  He wiggled it as he slowly forced it in.

   "YEEEAAAAAOOOOOWW!" Not only was it stretching her pussy open wider than
it had yet to be, she could feel the blade of the spatula cutting her flesh
like a double-edged knife as he slid it in.  "GAAAAAAOOOWWWWW!"

   "Hey dude," some other guy called out as he approached, "I hear you're
shoving stuff up your slave's pussy for slave points.  I want to see that
rolling pin up her cunt."

   "Sure thing, dude!" Hungry answered.  He pulled the spatula out, then
pressed one handle of the wooden rolling pin to her pussy.  It didn't hurt
at first while he slid the one handle in.  But when he had buried the
handle, he pushed he roller in with all his might.  The flat end of the
roller itself wouldn't slide in, and he leaned on it with both hands and
putting his body weight to bear on the rolling pin.

   It suddenly slipped in all the way as Monique let out a screeching,
"YAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHAAAAAAAAA!"

   "How's that, dude?" Hungry asked the spectator.

   "Way excellent!  But, hey, you're slave's, like, bleeding out her pussy.
Maybe you, like, pushed it too far?"

   "I don't know.  Maybe the handle pushed its way through her cervix into
her womb."

   "Yeah, dude, it's in deep enough."

   That spectator walked away to view some other torture exhibit, and no
one walked up immediately.

   Hungry walked away for a moment and then returned with a couple of other
guys.

   "This is her," Hungry said to them.  "She's kind of filthy right now,
but I'm about to rinse her off."

   "Yeah," one guy said, "I'll do the bitch."

   "Why not?" asked the other guy.

   "Good," Hungry replied.  "I gave you guys my room number, be there in
about an hour."

   Monique then noticed that Hungry was holding a hose.  She let out a
screech as cold water started spraying all over her body.

   "What are you doing?" she asked.

   "I got to wash the shit off you before we leave, you filthy bitch!"

   "It's over?" she asked him.

   "Hardly, cunt!  I'm so hard from this that it's time to take you
upstairs for some private fun.  Huh?  What's that red washing out of your
hair?  Hey!  Your hair changed color!"

   He leaned down and unshackled her wrists and ankles.  Then he picked up
the leash, which was laying in a pile on the floor under (over?) her head,
still clipped to her collar.

   She struggled to stand over the cramps she felt from being tied in her
bent-over position for so long.  She glanced at him, then, in a
split-second decision, bolted for the door.  Hungry stomped on her leash a
split second later, causing the leash to go taut at her neck sending her
sprawling on her back on the floor.

   "And just where do you think you're going, cunt?"

   "This scene is over!  I'm out of here!" She started to stand, but he sat
on her chest, pinning her down.

   "Oh no you ain't, bitch!  I paid for you, and you're mine for the
weekend.  Get used to it!"

   She started flailing her arms, but he merely caught her wrists in his
hands and held them still.

   Looking down at her face, he seemed noticed something.  "Now why is one
eye brown and one hazel?  "

   "One's a contact.  I guess one fell out."

   "Then take the other out.  And your face is a mess with your makeup
washed off.  What kind of cheap makeup do you use, bitch?"

   He stood off her, holding her leash securely.  Monique stood and removed
the other brown contact.  Then washed her face off with a wet towel that he
handed her.

   "Holy shit!" he practically shouted.

   "What?" she asked.

   "You're!  You're!  You're what's-her-name!  From TV!  You're
Monique-somebody -- that news reporter on TV!"

   "Yeah, so?"

   "Yeah, nothing.  Get my toolbox and your box of clothes, hotshot TV
reporter.  I'm not done having fun with you."

   Seeing his end of her leash wrapped around his wrist, she realized the
futility of trying another mad dash -- maybe she'll get another opportunity
a little later.

   Monique held the Tupperware box with her clothes under her arm and
grabbed one end of the toolbox.  She was grateful that it was on casters.

   Hungry Guy let Monique through the club to the elevators.  It was
hideously difficult, being that she still has the rolling pin up her pussy
and her asshole spread open with the speculum, and had to waddle all the
way while carrying her box of clothes and pulling his heavy tool box.  He
led her to the elevator, which they rode to the level above the entrance.

   The elevator would have been the perfect time to make her getaway, but
she realized that her encumbrances would have made the attempt futile. 
Plus, if successful, that would render her a naked woman out in the streets
of Manhattan past midnight on a Friday night -- talk about "out of the
frying pan into the fire!"

   They exited into a small hotel-like lobby decorated in an old-English
motif.  He led her past the front desk into a short corridor lined with
numerous doors.  He led her past several doors, and then inserted a cardkey
into a slot in the wall next to a door.  He pushed the door open with a
click, and led her in.

   At first, it seemed like an ordinary hotel room.  They were standing in
a small sitting room.  She could see through an archway into an alcove,
past the bathroom door through another door into a bedroom.

   He led her into the foyer and opened a closet door opposite the bathroom
door.  Beyond was hardly a closet, however.  It was another room -- a
smaller version of those "dungeons" down in the club.

   He told her to lay on her back on a low padded table.  He then shackled
her legs, spread wide, and shackled her wrists at her side.  There was a
clip on the table that he clipped her collar to so that she couldn't sit
up.

   He pulled the rolling pin out of her pussy.  It was all covered in
blood, especially the inner handle that had penetrated her cervix.  Then he
pulled the speculum out of her ass.  He dropped them into a sink on a
counter against one wall.  Then he mounted her.

   "Now what?" she asked, even though she really didn't have to ask.

   "I'm so horny, bitch.  Right now, I just want to fuck.  Don't worry,
babe, there'll be more fun for you before the weekend's over."

   Lucky for him, and her too, her bloody made her pussy was wet from her
blood that he slid into her easily, as if she was hot.

   He lowered his chest on hers, placing his full weight on her frame. 
Then he started thrusting.

   Her body was in so much pain, and her pussy so stretched out, from the
torture demonstration that she hardly felt him inside her.  To her relief,
he came quickly and dismounted her immediately after.

   Then a knock came from the door.  Hungry walked out the dungeon.  She
heard the door open and some voices.  A moment later, he returned with
those two guys who he was talking to earlier.

   "Here she is, guys."

   "Looks good!" one said.

   "Like I said before, twenty slave points to stick your cock into any of
her holes."

   "Her pussy's mine," said one.

   "Then I'm in her mouth," said the other.

   The first guy walked up to the table between her legs and climbed up
onto her.  The other guy walked up from above her head and straddled her
face holding his swollen cock down as he lowered himself onto her face. 
The first guy arched his back as he jammed his cock into her soaking pussy
while the second settled onto her face with his cock forced down her throat
under his full weight.

   Monique felt his cock throbbing in her throat.  As if she wasn't gagging
enough, he flooded her throat with his cum which surged back up into her
mouth like vomit.  She was about to pass out at that point when he slid his
ass off her face.

   He stepped aside, his now limp cock dangling over her face to reveal --
that black guy from downstairs.  His cock was hard and even bigger than the
guy who just got off.  She screamed in pain from the guy who was still
fucking her pussy as the black guy mounted her face and plunged his cock
into her mouth.  With his cock throbbing even deeper down her throat, she
passed out with the vision of his black ass crack pressing down on her
eyes.

   Then she heard a slapping noise.  A moment later, she felt her face
being slapped on the cheeks.  Opening her eyes, she was still strapped on
her back on that bench, and Hungry was slapping her cheeks with the back of
his hand.  "Wake up, bitch!  The party's over."

   "You really mean that?  It's over?  I can leave now?"

   "What?  Hardly!" Hungry yawned and said, "Good night, bitch.  We'll have
more fun in the morning." Then he exited the room and turned off the
lights.

   No night had ever dragged so slowly.  What with her being shackled down
on her back by the wrists, ankles, and neck, she didn't fall to sleep
easily.  Yet, exhaustion finally overtook her and she was startled awake
too soon to the blinding light of the room as Hungry Guy walked in.

   "Morning, cunt.  I trust you slept well."

   Monique didn't know what to say.  She hadn't eaten since last night, and
she was starving.  "Master?  I'm hungry.  May I have something to eat
please?"

   "'Master,' is it now?  That's a good little cunt.  Sure, I'll give you
something to eat right now."

   He climbed onto the table once again, only from the head end this time.

   "Oh God, no!  Not that!  Please!" she thought as he crawled down her
body.  In an instant, his cock was hovering directly over her mouth.

   "Open up, bitch!  Your breakfast is waiting."

   Monique clamped her jaw closed as tightly as she could.

   "So that's how it's going to be, huh, bitch?"

   He got off her and walked over to his tool chest where she left it by
the door.  He returned with a metal wire object.  He pinched her jaw open
and inserted the wire frame in her mouth and then wrapped a strap form one
side of her mouth around the back of her head to the other side.  The jaw
spreader held her mouth open wide and she could hardly make a sound.

   Again, he mounted her from above.  His cock hovered over her open mouth
for an instant before he plunged it down her throat.

   He pounded her mouth and jaw with his rock-hard cock as she gasped for
breath between thrusts.  She felt him start to quiver and knew he was about
to cum.  An instant later, he jammed it down her throat with the force of
the full weight of his body as he started to cum and cum.

   Monique started to buck, herself, as she gagged with his cock deep down
her throat.  Her lungs started to scream for breath soon after and, yet, he
was still shooting his wad down her throat.

   "Yeah, take it, bitch!  Take my load!  Take my whole load!"

   Monique, of course, couldn't answer.  Between gagging and her lungs
screaming for air, she was in agony.

   She started to feel faint as her bucking slowly subsided.

   "Yeah, die bitch!  Take your last breath as I fill your corpse with my
cum!"

   "No!  Please!" she begged in silence.  "I don't want to die!  Oh,
please, God!  No!"

   Then, a moment before she was sure everything was about to go black, he
slid his cock from her mouth and she let out an explosive breath.

   He stood there by the table laughing as she gasped, catching her breath.

   He removed the jaw spreader, and as she immediately yelled, "Are you
crazy?  You almost killed me, you fucking bastard!"

   "Oh, so now we went from 'master' to 'bastard,' eh?  I guess we'll need
a special punishment for that outburst, you worthless cunt."

   Hungry Guy walked over to his toolbox and brought over some more
implements.  One was a metal spike on a plastic handle with an electric
cord dangling from it.

   "What's that, some kind of tattooing gun?"

   "Hmmm, good idea, bitch.  Thanks for the suggestion.  But this is just
an ordinary soldering iron.  I like to sign my work, you know."

   The worst fear of all just struck Monique in the pit of her stomach as
he brought the hot point to her face.

   "No!  Please!  Not my face!  My career depends on my face!  Please!  I'm
begging you!  Anything!  But just don't touch my face!  Please!  Oh,
please!"

   "Anything?"

   "Yes, anything!  Burn my pussy before you burn my face!  Please!"

   Hungry returned the soldering iron to his toolbox and returned with an
electric mixer.  He snapped the two beaters into it and plugged it in.  He
turned it on and off briefly, letting its electric buzz full the room for a
moment.

   He lowered the beater between her legs, and she felt the cold metal
beaters slip into her, still bloody, pussy.

   "Here we go!  In a minute, your pussy's going to be raw hamburger!" he
chuckled.

   "Oh, God," the begged silently, "please don't let this hurt as much as I
think it will."

   Just then, a knock came from the door in the outer room.

   "Who's there?" hungry yelled.

   "Room service," came a muffled voice that Monique recognized all too
well.

   "Damn," Hungry Guy muttered as he left Monique with the silent beater
still inserted in her pussy.

   She heard Hungry open the door and say, "I didn't order room...  What
the hell?"

   The next thing, she heard a scuffle and a fight from the other room. 
She heard several punches land home, followed by a thud on the floor.  She
knew who won the fight without having to ask.

   "Honey!  I'm in here!  Get me out!"

   A big guy in full hockey regalia came strutting into the dungeon. 
"Monique, dear, what mess did you get yourself into now?"

   "Just get me out, okay?  How did you find me, anyway?"

   "I got home in the middle of the night and you weren't home.  I called
the newsroom but no one was there, so Max answered the phone.  To quote
Max, he said, 'Mo-Mo-Monique went to do a story-story on Edge Play-Play.'
So here I am."

   "Well, get me off this thing!"

   Her boyfriend removed his hockey gloves and mask, then unshackled her.
She stood off the table, got her clothes out of the box, and got dressed.

   She walked, hand in hand with her boyfriend, out of the club hotel,
armed with plenty of information for a headline expose.

   * END *