Clair Conner: Taken Again – Erotic Horror

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This is a story involving bondage and non consent. It is only a fantasy, with no basis in real life. All characters are depicted as over 18.

Clair Conner: Taken Again

It did not take long for me to return to the one talent that I could count on. At least I no longer had a pimp to take half of the money and still demand more.

My move to Europe was seamless, using my recent status as a victim of the International Sex Trade, to get a temporary work visa, in Spain. I probably could have given the Official a hummer, and saved myself the registration fee, but he looked a bit skittish. He knew that I had been used by the 32 men of a small merchant ship, as they traveled from the U.S. to Brazil then on to South Africa. He needn’t be concerned, I managed to get through the ordeal with my health intact.

I definitely needed some new clothes. The fashion world had passed me by as I swallowed dick on the Atlantic.

A bar was the traditional pickup point for working girls in America, but I had not figured out Barcelona, Spain. I sat at a corner cafe, sipping an espresso wondering if I had enough Pesos to pay the tab.

“Disculpe Madam. May I seat a Gentleman with you? If you are alone we will sit someone with you, please?” The waiter seemed to be both asking me and telling me the rules for single women.

“Cee,” I said, imagining that I might get lucky. How do you say Sugar Daddy in Spanish?

The man was both older and plump. Exactly my type, I wondered. He was sweating but he wiped his brow with an expensive looking pocket hankie.

“English?” He thought out loud.

“American,” I admitted.

“Oh lovely,” He decided. “Do you have a place to stay?”

Wow, right to the point.

I looked him over carefully, grateful for the sunglasses that kept him from seeing my eyes.

“I am looking for a bed, but my funds are low, very low.” I hoped he had a solution for my issue.

“A beautiful woman, such as yourself, must be careful whom she trusts in a big city like Barcelona,” The man replied, as he pulled off his eye glasses and wiped the humidity from the lenses.

I stretched my hand out to his hand and laid it on top.

“Could I trust you, Monsieur? I asked, with lips pursed to look the most kissable. I was using my arms to push my girls together, to provide the most attractive profile.

My new patron simply stood and took my hand in his damp grasp.

I followed, as he tipped his hat to the manager of the cafe. He would cover the bill.

He took me to a room that overlooked the busy plaza. It was small, but private. I only had a rolling suitcase, so I parked it in the corner and turned to my newest customer.

He was wetting his lips with a very active tongue. I knew that he was wondering where to start on this delicious looking treat. I looked away casualy, but I also began to strip, as if I were alone in my room. Often a whore has to take charge, or she’ll be waiting far too long.

Time is money.

I was wearing a bra today, but it was cute enough, and it allowed for some buildup of the show. The clip in front helped keep the focus on the prize. I pinched it open, and my breasts did the rest of the work, popping into view!

“Hmm,” he murmured, while mesmerized by the sight. I believe that it means the same thing in English.

I unclipped the long skirt and let it drop to the floor. My thong did not leave anything to the imagination, especially from the back. So I turned around to show him.

I felt his stomach against my back, when he pressed up and against me, putting both of my girls in his hands. He brought his face to my neck and I was grateful that his breath was minty. A girl can only take so much. I turned my head so he could kiss me, or not, ‘customer’s choice’.

He thrust his tongue deep into my mouth and squeezed my tits hard. He might have been grinding his pelvis into my ass, but I couldn’t feel anything solid. Typical of a short cocked man. I hoped that his tongue worked better elsewhere.

He went to his knees to remove my thong, staying behind me. He spread my ass cheeks and pushed his tongue into my ass. I usually charge extra for that, but he was getting the Early Bird Special.

I dropped forward, planting my hands on the small bed; I spread my feet wide to give him full access.

He pushed me even further down so that his 5 inch pickle could push inside of my pucker hole. I reached back and spread my ass with my narrow hands.

“What a prize!” He exclaimed as he popped to the bottom and back with rapid two inch strokes. I maintained my clothespin position while he enjoyed my tight hole. I realized that Spanish men were just as easy to please as any other.

Georgio needed a siesta before he was ready for a real fuck, so I ramped up the air conditioner and closed the patio door. I checked out the furniture and decided that it would suffice for my needs. I moved my few things to the three drawers, then went to the small washroom to put my toiletries away. I had to remember that it’s called a ‘toilet’ here in Europe. Not a restroom or a washroom. Toilet; simple and accurate.

Georgio was sitting up when I came out of the toilet.

“I will need a few clothes too,” I announced as I nakedly approached my smiling fat man. It was time to show him my other talent. Ass-to-mouth was not my favorite, but sometimes hookers need to sacrifice; he looked clean enough. I knelt beside the bed and cupped his balls. He spread his legs, so that more of his shortie was available. It was still quite pathetic. No challenge at all.

I didn’t have a tongue clip, but I sucked hard as I cupped my tongue around his pride and joy. His indrawn breath told me that I had his attention. I gently massaged his ball-sack while I went down on him. I pulled off for a lick and a kiss, then back down hard, sucking while I dropped.

He loved it.

I would need a radio too. Something had to cover up his loud words of encouragement!

The boutique was nice enough for my simple needs. They did free alterations, on the spot. Georgio had an account, so I could take whatever I needed. I smiled as the clerk packaged my new things. She would know how I earned these ‘gifts’, but petty judgements no longer affected me. If she could fuck like me, well… maybe she could. She needed better marketing skills.

I loved to spend my time in the museums and art galleries. Not that I understood art, but at least I could see the beauty. Barcelona has at least a dozen, and I was taking my time.

“Spectacular, isn’t it.”

I turned around to find a well suited man standing by the window. I felt my heart flutter, but it was probably indigestion.

“It’s a great looking painting,” I responded. “I suppose the artist had a great subject.”

“If she was as gorgeous as you, it would be hanging in the Vatican.” My secret admirer replied.

He obviously wasn’t blind.

“Please tell me that you are hungry,” the man continued, as he stepped towards me.

I realized that I was indeed hungry. A girl has to eat.

“I could be persuaded,” I replied, but I did not smile. I couldn’t make it too easy for him.

“Please, let me introduce myself. I am Conrad Smythe.”

The name was meaningless to me, but he said it with a tone that suggested that I might have known him. Probably rich or famous or both; Barcelona was such a big city.

I let him lead me, though he didn’t offer his hand. I just walked with him to a cafe, then on to his apartment.

He looked good without the suit too. Military for sure; he had the required scars. He pounded into me, and wouldn’t stop until I shuddered into an orgasm, then he allowed himself to find his own. It was a wonderful way to spend an afternoon, even when you’re not getting paid for it.

“Are you free for dinner, um…” Conrad realized that he didn’t know my name. “Miss.”

I let my hand encompass his soft cock. It felt like it needed about 10 minutes before I could use it again.

“I will have to take a raincheck…and the name is Clair.”

He gave me a card with his number. It announced him as the First Minister of Defence. He was important.

When I got back to the apartment Georgio was sitting on my unmade bed. He didn’t say a word as I put away a few packages.

Then he broke his silence.

“Who have you been with?”

He caught me off guard with that question. Did he think he owned me?

“I was visiting the museum, Georgio. You know that.” I stared into his eyes, challenging him to call me a liar.

I could tell that he did not believe me, but he said no more about it.

“I was not selling myself, Georgio. That is all that I will say.”

Georgio unbuckled his pants and leaned back. The suggestion was clear. I moved swiftly to liberate his manhood, using both hands to emphasize his size. I gave him my best stuff, gentle and hard, wet and dry, my tongue swirled around his member until he burst into the back of my throat, then I cleaned him up, like it was a pleasure to do so.

Georgio left a bad taste in my mouth. I mean, I got the feeling that another man was going to fuck me, and I don’t mean that in a nice way.

I should have paid attention to my feelings.

Two days later I found my apartment locked with my wheeled bag packed and laying at the door jamb. I banged on the door, but there was no response. The lock had been changed.

When I got back to the plaza, I had already decided that I would try to find Conrad. He would help me, I was sure of it. A van pulled up just as I thought about calling for an Uber. This van had two men inside, and they pulled me in with them, leaving my luggage on the sidewalk. The sliding door slid in place from the forward momentum of the van speeding off.

I had been taken, again.

I struggled hard. First they pushed a rubber tube into my mouth and fastened it behind my head. Now I could only make noises with my fists. Then two of them wrestled my arms behind my back and I heard the ratchet sound of handcuffs. I stopped wasting my energy at that point.

My assailants wore black leather masks that hugged their faces closely. The driver wore dark sunglasses that wrapped tightly around his upper face.

“Hide her in the cubbyhole, we have a long drive ahead of us,” the driver growled.

“Can we have some fun?” One of the turds asked. He was already gripping me by a tit and an ass cheek.

“Not until after we get paid, Shithead.” The driver spit out before a dark bag went over my head.

I felt the prick of a needle in my arm, and hoped, as I lost consciousness, that it wasn’t all over. I hadn’t even made it to Paris!

I was in a fog for the next two or three days as we drove east. They delivered me to a garage or warehouse in a smoke filled valley east of Warsaw.

“Put her in the cage for now Gentlemen. I presume that she is unharmed, per our agreement?” A voice of authority instructed my captors.

They hustled me out of the van, holding me up mostly, since my legs were like rubber. I didn’t even kick out at them. I just wanted this to end.

I heard more ratchet sounds and realized, with a few jerks, that I was now chained, to a metal post. There was a mattress that I could feel with my bare foot so I found a position where I could make use of it.

It was easy to breathe through the mask, and I couldn’t undo the knot that held it closed, so I just closed my eyes and slept.

“Strip her completely. They like to reach up under the screen and fondle the tits.” It was the same commanding voice from last night.

I heard and felt the chains being removed, but I knew it was useless to resist. Someone roughly jerked my clothes off of me. My panties were destroyed in the process, but I doubted that I would need them any time soon.

“Put our Princess in the first booth, and do not forget to secure the bar.”

There were no replies, but his instructions were carefully followed. I was placed on a soft pad, face up, then my ankles were lifted and secured with soft straps up high. Finally, a bar was pushed down on my waist and I heard a sharp click as it locked in place.

My hands were free, but the sack was still in place. I felt the knot, then felt my surroundings, but I didn’t learn much there. I put myself to work on the knot again.

Then I felt hands on my thighs.

“Yes, she is new, Karl. Ten Euros, and you could be her first of the day.” The man in charge spoke.

Fingers spread my labia.

“She looks clean,” a different man spoke.

A cock filled me.

“Not very tight,” he remarked, but he started to pound me with obvious enjoyment. I felt his hands inching up my naked belly, and soon he was cupping my breasts and grinding into my pussy.

It took him less than five minutes.

I was still working on the knot when the second cock filled me.

This one did not find me overly loose.

“Hey, not so hard, big guy,” a female voice softly spoke and I felt a soft hand on my leg. I still could not see, but I finally had some slack in the knot.

The long dong stopped smashing into me, but it didn’t go away. He was still thrusting vigorously, but not quite so deeply. I felt him shutter into an orgasm, pushing it harder for those final thrusts, as men often do.

This time, when he withdrew his dripping penis, a cloth or a sponge moved over my crotch and even over my ass.

I pulled the black sack off of my head, only to find myself with only slits of light. It took me a few seconds to take in the meager sights. I had a two inch steel bar holding me in place, with no locking mechanism in view. There was a curtain, loosely shielding me from the outside.

I was on the working side of a Glory Hole!

“No anal, Petre! Unless you pay the premium!” the girl was also commanding?!

The fucking continued for hours. It must have been 40 guys, but I didn’t actually count. I certainly noticed when it stopped.

A side door opened, bringing more light than my eyes could handle.

“Do you need a drink?”

I was still blinking my eyes into submission, but it was the woman that spoke.

“Let me go.” I demanded.

“Oh, hun. You’ve been paid for.” she replied. Her hand dropped onto my right tit. “If you make trouble they will gag you.”

She set down a water bottle and closed the little access window.

Five minutes later the fucking continued.

There were no more breaks. The general trend was, fuck, fuck, wipe. But later I found that the wipe only came after no condom was used, or it broke. No one made any effort to share the pleasure. They were only interested in cumming.

It was hours before the girl reappeared.

“You can have an apple and a small hunk of cheese.”

She set down the fruit and something covered in wax paper.

“Boris says that you need to lose 10 kilos.”

I didn’t say a thing. I was giving her the silent treatment.

“I am Trixy,” She introduced herself.

“I work as an attendant here,” she continued. “I make sure they do not fuck your ass unless they pay extra, and then they need a condom.”

I supposed that I was learning the rules of the game. Not a game where I could get ahead, but I still needed to know how it is played.

“How do I get my freedom?” I finally broke my silence.

“Oh, that’s a tricky one. You have to pay off a big debt,” Trixy informed me. “If you get a few ‘dates’, you will pay it off faster,” She finished.

They fucked me all afternoon.

“Not every woman can put up with this much pounding,” Trixy remarked, as she brought me my dinner. It was a small salad.

“How do I get a date?” I asked.

“Wow. You want more? I will tell Boris.” Trixy left me to eat my salad with my fingers.

The fuck factory closed around midnight. I had never had that much cock.

Boris finally came to see me. He was a stone faced man with big hands.

“The three men that delivered you have purchased you for the night.” He informed me.

I was hoping that a ‘date’ would give me a chance to escape, but those three guys had other ideas. They forced a ring gag into my mouth so they could fuck both ends, then they took their pleasures, slowly and thoroughly.

I wondered how much they paid for their little gangbang. They lasted two hours, then they handed me back to Boris.

“I could use more like this one,” Boris offered further employment to the three men. “One thousand a piece and a night of pleasure.”

It was insulting to know that they only got a grand for my sweet ass. I’ve made twice that on a good night in New York.

I didn’t get any sleep that night, but I did get to keep all of the protein from the skull fucking. I was back in my fucking booth by ten in the morning. Trixy was there to greet me.

“Hey, were those guys okay towards you?” She asked me. I wondered what she thought would be an ‘okay’ rape.

“They fuck like any man.” I responded without emotion. “How much did I make for their date?”

“Oh, you don’t get any bonus for that! Or for the cops,” she added. “They don’t pay either.” She laughed to herself.

“You only get Ten Euros for a date, so it will still take you a long time to pay off your debt. Don’t be so impatient!”

“I wondered that they paid 10 to do me in the glory hole? Why would it only be 10 for a date?” I was puzzled by the math.

“There are a lot of expenses, Clair. Your distribute from the wall is only a half buck for each customer. The private date costs 50 Euros, and your distribute is ten.”

Half a buck-a-fuck. It has a ring to it, but it was like a punch in the stomach for me. I wondered who was making the money on my ass. It certainly wasn’t me.

Day two went by very much like day one. Twenty cocks before lunch included two in the ass, but it was easy for me. Getting fucked by the cops for free, really didn’t sit well. They were paid to protect me!

Trixy brought me my fruit and a few crackers for lunch, and when I told her thanks, she stayed for ten minutes.

I found out that there were 4 other women working here. They paid a fee for their stall rental, and had their own relationship with the police. I was not surprised that it involved oral sex; it was the traditional payment.

I slept through at least a dozen fucks. Trixy had to lube me up, but otherwise the men did not know. I even slept while they squeezed my tits. At least I didn’t snore.

“You have another date tonight Clair,” Trixy informed me after my salad, which included some fresh carrots and tomato slices.

After closing Boris put me into handcuffs before he released the control bar that locks me into my fuck pad during the day.

“Do not try to escape, the cops will just bring you back, but first they will fuck you a lot, before they give you back to me.”

Of course I would escape, if the opportunity arose, the cops would have to catch me, and I have run from cops before. They eat too many donuts for me to worry.

Boris took me to a private room, but he left the cuffs on me.

I was shocked to see someone that I knew in another lifetime.

“Peter! Wow, it’s so good to see you!” I announced with glee, but then realized that he had purchased me for the night.

“I knew it was you, Clair. That body of yours is etched in my brain. I knew, when I squeezed those luscious melons, that it was you!”

I last saw Peter on the Freighter, Epsilon. He was supposed to be tried for kidnapping and rape in South Africa, but he and many others had avoided prosecution by pleading ignorance and giving testamony against the Officers of the ship.

It was obvious that Peter expected to have his cock taken care of, and I didn’t want him to think that I was not appreciative of him rescuing me. I didn’t need my hands to give him a good blow job.

“Oh, yes! I remember those lips and that tongue! You are still the best cock sucker Clair!” Peter was impressed with my enthusiastic efforts.

After he gave me his cream I cleaned him nicely, I was even ready for some wood, which I would encourage, then I would offer my pussy to my hero.

He hammered into me while I tried not to land hard on my wrists. He didn’t take long to discover more fulfillment.

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