Chrissiebee's Blog

Partly continued by a very imaginative friend and then picked up by myself at his instruction, enjoy:-

The doorbell rings; I stand and wobble slightly on the heels. I go and answer the door, and find you there in jeans and an old t-shirt. You look me up and down, appraising me, almost like a possession, and nod. The contrast to what I'm wearing is striking. I take your arm to help me walk the short distance to the car. Ever the gentleman, you help me in and close the door. As we set off, I ask you where we're going. You just smile and run a hand up my leg, letting your fingers rest on the silk barely covering me. The touch is stimulating and I give a quiet gasp. I think we're heading for the cinema - we've had some fun there in the almost-dark seats.

But no, we drive past, and into a part of town most people don't venture into after dark. Surely we're not stopping here, are we? To my horror, you pull in outside a pub. There are a number of motorbikes parked nearby. What gives?

I take your arm again and we enter the bar. Loud rock music is playing; the air is thick, and the three pool tables are all obviously occupied by the bikers, bare arms covered in tattoos. This is scary - we'll be beaten to a pulp if these guys take it into their heads to not like us. I glance around; there are two women - girls, more like, sat with their men at the back of the pool tables, both taking long pulls from bottles of cider, both dressed like sluts. What are we doing here? Then I realise, I'm dressed like a slut too. Perhaps a bit classier, but still advertising my assets for all to see.

I'm amazed. One of the bikers comes over, and greets you like a long lost brother. You leave me standing by the door as you head to the bar with him, chatting and laughing. I can feel all eyes on me, and want to run out the door, but you have brought me here, and I trust you to not put me in any harm. I see your buddy turn round and look - no, leer - at me. More laughing as you come back to me with a pint and a bottle of cider for me. It's not what I normally drink, but it's cold and refreshing, and at least I feel like we're fitting in with these unfamiliar surroundings.

The biker you were talking to raps on one of the pool tables, and the shouting and chattering stops. The barman must be in on it - the music is temporarily silenced.

"OK - we're all here. The three of us will play pool - each against the other. We're looking for one winner, and one loser. Our ladies will play too. After one round, if there's no clear winner or loser, we'll play another three, until we have a result. "

I whisper into your ear "so what's the prize for the winner?” You give me a strange smile, and glance over at the two girls sitting at the next table. "Play your best" you say, and smile as you stand to break the balls in the first game. I take the cue you handed to me, and teeter over to the second table, realising that the micro-skirt will provide no cover as I bend to make my shot. All the bikers are watching my table; you and your friend just aren't that interesting.

I bend to make my shot, and a cheer goes up in the bar. I feel my cheeks blushing, but feel a strange satisfaction knowing that my seams are perfectly straight, and the suspenders clearly visible. Being watched like this, I make the silk which is so tightly stretched against me slightly damp.

You win your game; I lose mine. The girl I was playing was good - very good considering she'd drunk a bottle of cider before we arrived. There's no clear winner, so we have to play a second round. Everyone has had a couple more drinks, and it shows in the play. I see the barman go over and lock the doors as we're playing. It's closing time, but no bell rings; no call of 'last orders' is made. We're locked in.

The end of the second round. I've played badly, and even though you won one of your two games, we're the losers.

"So, what's the prize - you didn't tell me?" I ask. You smile, take my hand and pull me to my feet. You lead me to the pool table, and push me forward so I bend over the table.
I feel your hand on my back, holding me down, then the ripping of the silk thong. I'm exposed for all these bikers. How could this be happening? I feel you lift the tiny skirt, exposing me completely, then gasp as your hand comes down firmly on my buttock. I cry out, but fall silent as I hear your speak to the gang

"Use the condoms, please guys".

I see you walk over to the girl who was sitting with the biker who won the pool contest, and take her toward the second table. I'm shaking, and my breathing turns to panting. I feel hands on my hips, holding me firmly. In front of me, I see a zipper being lowered.

I see the guy in front of me unzip his oily jeans, he pulls out his cock, it's soft and nothing special and he begins to rub it gently. I feel my short PVC skirt firmly pulled up from behind and jump as a hand slaps across my right buttock, making my bum jiggle and clench. "Nice bit of flesh" I hear someone comment behind me. I don't turn to look, I'm looking at you watching me while the slut rubs your cock through your jeans, you fit right in here, I know you've been planning this for ages now, just to show me off to your mates, show them how much under your thumb I am. Bastard, I think to myself as the other buttock takes a harder slap. Each cheek in turn gets four or five hard slaps until I can feel a warm glow from my rear as I'm bent over the pool table. "turn her over" someone grunts from behind me and I feel several pairs of strong hands grab my legs and arms and roll me onto my back, legs dangling over one side of the table, head over the other. My legs are pulled apart by the long haired greaser that's been slapping my ass, obviously the "leader" of this pack of louts. He roughly pushes two calloused fingers in my pussy and I make the mistake of lifting my hand to his wrist. "Ah, she's wet but not quite trained yet, let's make it easier for her, belts!" two belts are thrown to him and he grabs my wrist, pushing it against my thigh and wrapping the belt around thigh and wrist, slipping the end through the buckle and pulling it tight, pressing the inside of my wrist to my upper thigh and pulling it really tight before fixing the buckle pin through one of the many holes. The other wrist is quickly bound to my other thigh the same way. "Better, now I like this nice bald pussy here" he pushes the fingers back inside me "Yeah, she wants it, but she's going to get it our way, I wanna make this a bit pink too" pulling his own belt off I can only watch as he loops it and flicks the end across my abdomen, making a sharp slapping noise and making me jerk my legs together. He motions to two of his thugs and they each grab one of my ankles, pulling me wide open again, the studded wristbands one of them wears catching my stockings. Greasball stands and looks down at me as he flicks the belt across the edge of the table, making louder slapping noises, before bringing it down right across my pussy lips with a sharp movement, making me gasp and shout as the fire leaps in my pussy "Ohh too loud bitch, hey dipstick, time you found something to gag her with, stop playing with that and see what she can take" I feel my head pulled back over the edge of the table, a hand in my hair pulling me down, I'm looking up at the ceiling and suddenly it's blocked as the guy that was playing with his cock moves in, his soft member now hard and sticking out over my face. "No worries Dude. Wondering why they call me dipstick bitch? 'cos I'm going to measure how deep your throat is, no chick's taken all 11 inches of me yet and I guess you won't either, but you better try real hard"

My head is pulled back by the hair and he pushes his cock down into my mouth, my hands are trapped at my sides and I can't do anything to stop him, he pushes straight to the back of my throat and I have to fight my gag reflex. I can't stop him, I have to force myself to try and take him. in this position my throat is straight, he's pushing in from the right direction to slip straight down my throat, so I try to concentrate, forcing myself not to try and swallow, trying desperately to relax my neck muscles as the swollen head pushes past the base of my tongue and deep into my throat. my concentration breaks as the belt comes down on my naked pussy again, slapping right across my pouting lips, I almost choke, but control it, I hear a loud laugh as the belt comes down again "nice and pink" SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP oh gods the pain is awful, it takes my mind off the choking feeling as my throat is , the hands in my hair puling me around and the sudden feel of cool air as my blouse is ripped open "not the bra, leave that on, makes her look like a whore and I can reach her tits nicely with them sticking up like that" SLAP my left breast takes the belt right across the nipple where it peeks over the push-up bra and I convulsively clench on the cock in my throat, can't stop myself, I gag and gag again, dipstick just holds my head and keeps himself pushed deep in me, eventually I manage to control it but I can feel saliva dribbling down my face as he pulls out, slaps my face with his cock and pushes straight back in, laughing. my sore pussy is suddenly pushed open, not by a cock as I'd hoped, no, the thick cold end of a wooden pool cue is xxxxxx up my slippery passage, ten inches thrust straight in, thank God I was wet. as the cue is worked in and out of me and moved around inside me the belt is rhythmically slapped across my exposed breasts as my face and throat continue to be fucked. my senses are reeling, my skirt is split, my blouse ripped, one suspender dangling free and my £30 a pair stockings laddered terribly. My makeup is smeared, lipstick and mascara daubed across my face by dipsticks cock and my own tears, my hair is reduced to a rats nest of tangles as his rough hands continue to pull me this way and that as he fucks my mouth. I'm held and bound, legs wide open and ankles in the air, there's nothing I can do to resist and they tell me in graphic detail what they intend to do to me, I look across at you just in time to see you arch your back as you come, the girl with you working her head in your lap, I see there's no help coming from your direction. Then there's a blinding flash and I see the other slut has a camera, she starts taking pictures from every angle, getting my face in close up with the slimy cock stretching my lips "watch the camera bitch, we want your face on film so we can make you do this again and again, your nice boyfriend over there told us where you work and we're sure such a nice firm of solicitors would just love to see what their top P.A. gets up to in her free time. enjoy it bitch, you're going to be trained to whore properly, not just play at it!" the humiliation goes on and on, it should be hell but if it was would I be so wet? I can't control my reactions as they pump me from both ends and my writhing, groaning, mindlessly hip-bucking orgasm is captured on film as I finally let go big time to a chorus of cheers and stamps from the guys watching from the bar. . . .

Well, it's time to get ready for my date. The outfit that you have sent me is lying on the bed. I just have to raise the nerve to put it on. A large glass of white wine, may help, I tell myself as I pour it with a slightly trembling hand. I sip it slowly as I look over the various parts of my costume for the night. With a small sigh of anticipation I put down the glass and step out of my dressing gown. "In for a penny . . " I mutter as I pick up the slippery black silk thong. I slide it up my legs, the material feeling soft and slightly cold against my skin. It pulls snugly up between my legs, cupping my neatly trimmed mound and nestling between my buttocks as I pull it high and tight. Next the bra, nothing subtle about this, a fully underwired quarter cup platform bra, in black satin. I slip it a\round me and fasten the four hooks and eyes, pulling it around and up under my breasts. cupping each breast as I pull the cups up and tighten the shoulder straps I take a quick peek in the mirror. The effect is amazing, my medium sized 36B's are sticking out like double D's, offered like ripe fruit on a plate for whatever hand cares to test their firmness. My nipples are beginning to harden in anticipation, peeking over the front of the bra, will I really have the nerve to wear this?

But there's more to the outfit yet. I pick up the suspender belt next. A black PVC waspie with six whipcord thin straps with metal clips. I fasten it round my waist, sucking in a little as I do up the twelve little black hooks and eyes that make sure it grips me firmly. The stockings feel gorgeous, proper Aristoc sheer black nylons with a point heel and razor thin seams. I ease my foot into one, pulling it over my ankle and gently smoothing it up the length of my leg. The feeling is exquisite as the sheer nylon slides up my thigh, I make sure the seam is as straight as I can get it, hugging the curve of my calf and on up my thigh to where the thick welt fits tight around my leg. I clip the first suspender on at the front, pulling it taught. then the back, reaching as far round as I can get it, to make sure it lines up with the seam, a little more adjustment on this one, it needs to be really tight at the back. Then the middle one, pulling the stocking taught for that extra secure feeling. The other stocking is next, following the same routine, caressing the nylon as it slides up my leg, loving the feel as the clips close and the nylon is pulled tight across my flesh.

I can't resist a quick tease of each nipple and a soft stroke of my pussy lips through the thin silk as I decide what to put on next. I'm horny, I'm very horny and I don't know how the night is going to progress, I just feel very. very excited at what might happen to me later. I decide to put on the blouse next, creamy white silk, thin and slippery as it slides over my arms. I pull the front together and button it, wondering if you had ignored the measurements I'd given you, as it pulls very tight across my breasts. Now the skirt. Black, shiny PVC. A micro-mini, zipping up the side, I pull it up over my nylon clad legs to discover it hardly covers my stocking tops. The smallest lean forward will expose my suspender clips for all to see, along with the white flesh of my upper thigh. When I pull the zip up it hugs my buttocks like a second skin, clearly showing the thin lines of the suspender straps underneath.

Now for the shoes. Lovely they are, glistening black patent leather, four inch heels which taper to spikes. I slip my nylon sheathed foot into the first one, wriggling my toes to get them to the end of the closed toe shoe. The double ankle strap I buckle tightly, clipping the little silver padlocks around the buckles (I hope you remember to bring the key!) When the second shoe is on and strapped just as tightly, I stand and walk a few steps, tentatively. I wear heels a lot, but these feel different, they feel like I'm on stilts, the muscles in my calves are taught and I have to walk with my back straight and my shoulders back, emphasising my breasts even more. I slip the soft leather choker around my neck, fastening the buckle I pull the single chrome ring around to the front and let it dangle there, set off delightfully against the black leather.

Now I check my make-up, add a few little touches. My lips are dark red, shiny with gloss. My eyes are bordered with silver-grey eye-shadow and my nails are as shiny and red as my lips. I pick the gloves up off the bed and pull them on, they are black lycra and they stretch past my elbows, the three quarter length sleeves of the blouse falling down over them with the turned up cuffs open.A single thick silver bangle on each wrist and I'm ready.I check the mirror again and swallow loudly, I can't believe how I look, like a high class whore about to earn her keep for the next month. The combination of the heels and the push-up bra make me stand as if I'm offering my breasts on a plate, the sheer nylon and the PVC skirt rustle sinisterly together as I move, and the black bra and the top of the waspie suspender belt are clearly visible through the thin cream silk of my taughtly stretched blouse.

Now I wait for your arrival, and wonder just where you will be taking me tonight . . .