EroticReverie

A darker Story, not sure how much I'll write of it, or if I'll even keep it on here. But, enjoy , I guess?

Willow

Seven years. That's how long it's been. Seven years since I was kidnapped, taken and sold. Everyday I tell myself, "It could be worse" , because that's what Carver Whitestone taught me, that's what he brainwashed me into believing. That him, now fifty years old today, a rich man that "took care" of me, was far better than the life I was supposedly destined for according to him. 

"You want for nothing Willow, and you never will. I give you everything you need." 

"You really should learn to be more grateful for the life I've bestowed upon you. Plenty of young women would give up anything, do anything to be in your shoes." 

I doubt it. But Im not stupid enough to say so. At least not anymore. I learned within the first few months of being Carver's , that I was expected to only speak when spoken to, to do what I was told without question, to obey, to serve, to warm his bed. 

Normal people would call it grooming, Carver Whitestone calls it "the way it should be". 

My first beating taught me the lesson he meant it to. Keep my mouth shut. I never talked back again, never complained again, taught myself how to control the urge to roll my eyes or act in anyway that would end up with his hands smacking the shit out of me or throwing me into walls. 

While I "behave" myself , it still doesn't stop him from occasionally reminding me my "place", just because he can. Breathe the wrong way? Slap. Simply exist when he's in a "mood"? Slap. 

Yet he truly believes that any woman would beg to take my place, simply because of the luxuries that come with it. He says I want for nothing....but I do. I want freedom.

---------------

It's Carver's fiftieth birthday. As I stand beside him, my hand trained to rest lovingly on his chest, I wonder if the hundreds of people here even like Carver. Do they come out of obligation? I know plenty of them are as corrupted, rich and depraved as Carver. Because that's what being too rich does to people. When they want for nothing, they find more "Creative" ways to feed that hunger for power and status. But I wonder how many of them are here because of Carver's power and the fact they too are trained to bow down to his wealth. And how many are here because they admire him, or share the same immoral fucked up love for power and money, and doing whatever the hell they want and getting away with it. 

The man Carver is talking to? I know for a fact shares the same tastes as Carver. I'm pretty sure his wife does as well, because she looks at me like she knows very well that her husband has used me to satisfy those tastes. Because Carver, likes to boast, likes to show off, likes to let others use me. Though now that I'm almost of legal age, I doubt any of them will care all that much to have me. Because they want, what they can't have, aren't SUPPOSED to have. 

"Willow, why don't you take Jeffrey to top off his drink." Carver says, and slides his hand up my bareback. I'm wearing a white gown, the plung v neck hangs off my breasts, which have grown to a c cup, making me far less desirable to many of the men like Carver and Jeffrey. But some men, just want power over ANY female. Age means nothings, they just enjoy making females submissive, showcasing their power, reminding us that the hole between our legs makes us lesser. Jeffrey smiles as he looks at the floor length dress, the two slits up either side that showcase my legs, the front panel only just wide enough to hide the space between my legs as I walk. Jeffrey's wife looks at me, turning up her nose and turning away like she knows exactly what "topping off" her husbands drink is going to entail. But she pretends like she doesnt. Because SHE is the kind of woman Carver talks about, the ones that would do anything, put up with it all, just to take my place. 

There's several faces I know all too well as I take Jeffrey's arm as if I'm honored to be his whore for the next ten minutes or however long it takes him to get off. Several faces that I know how they look when they're on the brink of orgasm, several faces that i've watched turn red, sweat, and seen at the state of their climax. Their knowing smirks as they see me with Jeffrey, because they know exactly what I am. Craver's whore. His plaything. His obedient slut that he shares with men just like him. 

I walk to the library, shutting the door behind us, not bothering to lock it. The only person who would come in anyways, is the man that sent me here. Sometimes Carver whores me out for free, sometimes the men pay him. I wonder if this one is a freebie. I wonder how much they pay when it's not. But I'll never know, because whores arent allowed to ask questions.

Jeffrey is already undoing his pants and walking to the nearest seat, which is a dark brown leather sofa, and sitting down with his flacid cock in his lap and his pants around his ankles.

I walk over and kneel without a word.

"Get it hard you fucking whore." He says leaning back. I've trained myself not to roll my eyes, but I really want to. Jeffrey liked to degrade me. Thankfully, it was only with words. He didnt exert his "power" with physically violence, he didnt hit me, or hurt me, but he liked to remind me of what I was. 

"Put your fucking face hole on my cock." He groans and reaches his arms out over the back of the chair with a wicked grin that dares me to say something, or tell him no, or refuse. I'm not stupid enough to do any of those things.

He groans the second I place my hands on his thighs and lick over the flacid flesh. Immediately it begins to grow hard. 

"ungh" he grunts as I take him into my mouth and begin to suck. 

I also learned that being good at it, was better than fighting it. The sooner they came, the sooner it was over. Act like the whore they want you to be, let them think you believe this is your purpose and your glad to be serving them, the sooner they came, the sooner I could ecape and brush my teeth and scrub my tongue and get the taste of them out of my fucking mouth. 

I moan. I suck him as if I've been dying for his cock in my mouth, as if I'm honored to be on my knees and serving him. 

It takes all of two minutes before he's ready to cum. 

"Get up" he growls and I listen, pushing up off my knees. 

"Come here" he growls and strokes his dick. 

"Turn around" he growls as I step between his feet and I turn. 

I grab my dress, pulling it up, to the side,, my other hand lifting to my mouth, I lick my hand, wetting my fingers then reaching between my legs and wetting my cunt,  and letting his one hand grab my hips and pull my ass back as I lower it, placing my hands on his knees as he guides me down onto his cock. 

Another disgusting grunt form Jeffrey as I take him inside of me, sitting down all the way. 

"You missed this dick, didnt you?" he groans. 

"yeah" I moan as I put on the performance he wants. The performance that will end this as soon as possible.

It was hard at first to discern which men liked what. Some liked you to enjoy it, they got off quicker when the female enjoyed being their toy. Some men got off on tears and screams, begging and pleading for them to stop. Some men got off on a bit both. Jeffrey was simple though. 

"ungh, this little cunt is run through, not as tight as you were the first time" he groans and grabs my hips as I bounce in his lap, hands on his knees as I work my cunt on his cock. Another reason he was simple. Jeffrey was average length, his cock wasnt thick, and he was easy to fuck. 

"nothing beats out first time, does it Willow?" he grunts. 

I shake my head. "No" i moan. I've also trained myself not fucking puke over the way they all make my fucking stomach turn now. The ones that have been "borrowing" Carver's toy for years, always love to relive their memories of the times they had me before, when I was younger "tighter" "hotter" "sexier". 

"You were such a good whore, ungh, my cock loved fucking you like the hot little slut you were" 

"you fucked me so good" I moan, and Jeff grunts again, louder, hips jerking. Cum spilling inside of me. 

Simple. Jeffrey was simple. 

I grab my dress and lift up, leaving his cock to go soft in his lap as he breathes hard and I drop my dress and lean over, placing one hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Jeffrey" I say with a kiss to his cheek, while fighting the urge to vomit all over him. 

"Mmmm, give me a kiss" he says and I swallow, but force my mouth to go to his, touching his cheek like I would if I was in love with him, giving him the fantasy he wants. A whore that adores him, when it couldnt be anything further from the truth. 

His kiss is gross. Sloppy and wet, too much tongue and his breath smells like he's never flossed in his life. He pants over my fucking mouth and licks my mouth like he's having a pie eating contest. 

I force myself not to gag, and instead I moan, as if his slimey tongue is all a girl could ever dream of. 

"Mmm"I hum, ending the kiss with a smile. 

"If Carver ever retires you, just know you always have me to come to." He says and reaches behind me and slaps my ass and I smile, forcing my flirtly little  lip bite and I thank him for the invitation which I'll never fucking take. 

I leave the library, and rush through the hall, to the nearest bathroom, slam the door and lock it. I make it to the toilet just in time as I drop to my knees, clutch the toilet bowl that cleaner than a fucking dinner plate, and heave, my dinner coming up, splashing into the bowl violently. I dont cry. I dont let myself ever fucking cry, unless I need to, unless it's for the men that prefer it. But my eyes water from throwing up and when Im sure I have nothing left. I drop to my ass and lean against the wall and push my head back against the wall and pray for all them to burn in hell.