All I could think about was how desperately I yearned to be fucked. Before my store had even opened, my toys were drained and lifeless, but my aching cunt still throbbed with horny need. Cum-saturated hands unlocked the doors, and my mind was consumed with taboo, horny fantasies. Unlike Mary Boring-Vanilla Sue, an orgasm or two wouldn’t sate me. I was so far gone that only the nastiest, dirtiest, and most degrading sex-marathon I could endure would quench my lust.

My sultry, redheaded friend was online that day, and my antics stoked her sexual fires into an inferno. Opening our conversation with, “Let’s just say my morning coffee had extra cream,” sent the two of us on a quest to deplete our infinite supply of orgasms. Not one-upping each other, only sharing our lusty joy, our overheating desires mingled and grew in logarithmic proportions. Her naughty behavior had my fingers buried in my pussy all day; my antics and growing needs made her toys overheat.

As the day wore on, my horny, needy, dirty lust only increased. The overwhelming need to be used, treated like a rag doll, and punished for being such a slut turned off my brain. Other than the basic power to form words, all of them torrid, I could not do anything except beg and plead to be treated like a useless slut, just holes and a body to be used for others' pleasure. I knew that this would only feed my pleasure centers, and confessing my overpowering horny desires set off another bout of masturbation.

Throughout the day, my husband was sexting me, my friend and I were driving each other insane with desire, and every orgasm was, to me, just an appetizer, further whetting my lusty appetite for more. Although I’d gleefully plummeted off the cliff of sanity into the torrential waters of outright sexual frenzy, I broke even further. A car accident outside my store was the catalyst that made me beg my husband to promise that I’d used and savagely abused. It wasn’t just what I wanted; it was what I needed to feed my overblown lust craze. I was so into my bender, simply a manifestation of sexual need.

I withdrew my fingers from my convulsing, needy pussy and went out to see what was causing all the commotion. Strutting my stuff, I sauntered outside into the blazing sun. My hips swiveled with each step, and every footfall bounced my pert, overly aroused breasts. It was a minor car accident—just a fender-bender. However, Byron was outside with his staff, so I busied myself, bending deeply at the waist, pretending to pick up random pieces of litter from the sidewalk in front of my store.

His lecherous look, filled with horny longing, drowned me in the fiery waters of passion. I caught his eye and smiled back, putting on a show for him by writhing seductively. That’s when my mind’s final defenses crumbled. The demon succubus named Lust was now in control. My horniness was burning brighter than my red, cascading hair. The only thing that could possibly put out the fires in my loins was to surrender to them, to submit to my aching need to be used hard and rough, and to overdose on the pleasure I’d feel from it.

“I need to be used, savagely ravaged, and treated like a fuck toy. Please treat me like a slutty piece of meat, make me fuck everyone, and have them abuse me. Make your slut your property and treat me like sexual trash,” was one of the tamer messages my husband received. Knowing what I needed, my man took control and gave me explicit instructions.

I was to drive home, bottomless, and ready to receive the spanking I kept begging for. When I’m on a sex bender, I crave naughty, sexy punishment for my behavior. The fact that I get off on his idea of punishment, arousing me even further, only intensifies my feedback loop. I act like the insatiable slut I am, and he fucks me longer and harder, telling me what a dirty slut I am. Catering to my desires and fulfilling my perverted desires, things get nastier, kinkier, and hotter. This makes me even more lust-addled, and I grow wilder, becoming more deviant and increasingly sex-crazed just to get punished again.

A text from Java Man enhanced my mood. “I couldn’t take my eyes off your butt when you were outside.”

“My ass?” I texted back. “I get off at six if you want to touch it... or fuck it.”

Regretfully, he couldn’t, as he had to be at work. As I was talking with my friend, she was using her wand on herself, and I mentioned that I planned on flashing him as I walked to my car. When closing time came, so did I. I stripped off my sweater and pulled my see-through shirt up over my breasts. One of my hands fondled my exposed tits as I stood with my back against the glass door and fingered myself under my pants to another orgasm. Regretfully, there were too many people in the coffee shop for me to be comfortable flashing Byron. However, the multitude of lewd stares I received, walking the few blocks to my car made up for it.

My sexy camouflage pants were stripped and tossed into the back seat before I’d gotten into my car. Let them gawk; it just made me hotter. With the windows down and my stereo blaring hair metal, I peeled out and headed for home. I’d gone less than half a mile before somebody noticed my nudity. The truck tried to pace me, the passengers’ tongues wagging and eyes popping out of their skulls, but I veered away, waving and smiling.

As soon as I hit the highway, my foot stomped on the gas, and my fingers grew hectic between my thighs. Sometimes, I waved to the truckers who blew their horns at me, and, at others, I spread my legs, giving them a better show. At a seldom-used intersection, where a lone stoplight blinked to nobody for most of its life, an appreciative teamster pulled his semi up for a better look. Watching earnestly, we sat through two red lights as I fingered myself, moaning as loud as I could, begging him to pull out his cock and cum for me. After I came hard on my busy fingers, I held up my dripping hand, licked some of my sex juice from it, and, to his horny delight, flicked the rest onto the cab of his truck. He turned left, and I continued straight.

All the way home, I was getting more and more aroused. I’d reached the point of frenzy, anticipating the savage spanking and rough sex I begged for and had been promised. I was at least two miles away from home before I couldn’t stand it any longer. My shirt was stripped off and thrown behind me as I blasted my music and sped toward home as fast as I could without crashing. I was so fucking horny that I was masturbating my ass and pussy as I walked to the front door.

“I’m ready for my spanking. Abuse me like the worthless slut I am!” I shouted as soon as the door opened. "Fuck!"

My surprised shriek echoed off the walls. Rather than just my husband, two of our friends were seated on the couch in the living room. This was a complete shock to me. I’ve played with both of them before, so I wasn’t completely mortified. In fact, storming into my house, completely nude, with my liquid coating my fingers, and announcing that I wanted to be spanked and abused turned me on even more. I almost had a spontaneous orgasm when my friends looked at me with horny mirth.

Sammy and Angela were their names. Sam is my friend’s little brother, just a few weeks shy of turning nineteen. He’s athletic, cute, sexy, and eager to please. Less than two minutes after he’d turned legal, I had his cock in my hand, then my mouth, and, finally, inside my greedy pussy. Because of me, he has a penchant for highly sexual redheads.

Angela is a newer member of our medieval group. When we first met, I was stunned at how similar we looked. She’s a younger, sexier, more buxom version of me at her youthful age. As I showed her around the campsite we gathered at, we both quickly grew tired of everyone asking us if she was my sister. We dyed her hair blond to stop that nonsense, but she immediately changed it back to red when she hooked up with Sammy.

The two of them were dressed casually, so I was taken aback for a moment.

“You want to be treated like a trashy slut,” Angela said to me. Her voice was stern, commanding, and filled with erotic overtones, and it made my already saturated pussy drip onto the floor. She lifted her skirt, showing some finely trimmed pubic hair growing in, just as I had mine until recently. “Crawl over here on your hands and knees, you worthless cunt; lick my clit, and finger my holes while Sam gives you the spanking you deserve!”

“YES!” I screamed, dropping to all fours.

It could have been broken glass doused in gasoline and set on fire for all I cared. I was so turned on and desperately needy that I would have crawled to her. This was what I wanted—everything I craved at that moment—and my husband had delivered. Then, he made his appearance.

Fully dressed, but looking so sexy that my clit jumped to attention, my breath caught in my throat as soon as I saw him; he smiled at me with that roguish, knowing expression of mischief that makes me melt. Yes, he’s that fucking hot, sue me. In his hand, lightly tapping into an outstretched palm, was my new paddle. Fur-covered on one side and black, ominous leather on the other, it could give both erotic pleasure and pain. I’m not big into pain, but sometimes I want a mild bit. By then, I could have been whipped with barbed wire, and I would have still begged for more.

“The worthless piece of fuck-trash has been a bad girl and needs a severe spanking, Sammy,” my husband said. His tone dripped with eroticism. "Be a good lad, and do the honors.”

I crawled between my friend’s legs, helped her out of her soaked panties, and lowered my smiling face to her crotch.

“What the fuck are you waiting for, you horny bitch? Make me cum.”

SMACK! Sammy’s hand slapped my ass. The sensation triggered another wave of horny arousal, and fire erupted within my core, shooting flames of lust out of every pore.

“Do you know how to properly spank a fucking slut?” my husband asked him.

Angie gruffly grabbed two handfuls of my hair and forced my mouth over her slit. “Ignore them, you fucking slut, and fucking eat me.”

Suddenly, I felt two hands on my ass, spanking me. One was my husband’s, and the other, less confident and perfect, was my friend’s as he learned the fine art of erotic spanking.

A litany of verbal abuse spewed from Angela's filthy mouth. “You’re a trashy fuck toy. You’re three fucking holes to be used, only serving the pleasure of others—my pleasure. Lick my cunt, you filthy whore. You’re a fucking slut. Easy, slutty fucking whore. You’ll lay on your back and spread for anybody, won’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled into her thrusting cunt.

"Don't fucking talk, you slut. You’re nothing but a body to be spanked, fucked, and to lick my cunt. Now finger my ass like a good, little whore.”

I didn’t just finger her ass. My tongue left her dripping snatch and rimmed her asshole as she began moaning. Angie’s body started to convulse, and her hand, locked in that death grip on my fiery hair, crammed my face, forcefully and violently, into her dripping crotch. All the while, Sammy was learning how to spank a slut. Their combined spanking had me on the cusp of cumming without my pussy even being stimulated.

With Angela holding my head in place, I managed to snake a hand between my thighs. As she announced her orgasm, calling me a “filthy, fucking slut,” I touched my clit, and my entire soul exploded. The power of my intense orgasm transcended physical pleasure and sent my mind spiraling away into a vast sea of nothing but erotic, horny pleasure.

Some in the BDSM lifestyle call that place “subspace.” For them, it’s the complete surrender of yourself to the lustful will of another. For me, it’s “slut space.” I burrow so deeply down the rabbit hole of debauchery that I cease to exist; only horny, rabid pleasure remains. There are no thoughts, no material reality, just my blissful, pleasured soul floating on a tranquil sea of sexual pleasure.

“Now, lick my clit while I get fucked, you fucking whore. Do it!” My mood had infected Angela, and she was also possessed by her wanton desires.

I was thrown to one side; my head forced back down to Angela’s wet, swollen clit. Sammy’s young cock penetrated her, oozing sex, and he thrust his hard shaft deep inside her, pumping away like a madman.

“Fucking lick it, you slut. Do you like being used to get me off? Don’t fucking answer! Fondle his balls while he fucks me, you cheap piece of whorish trash.”

As I licked, furiously fingering myself, I felt the kiss of the fur-lined side of the paddle, then fingers all over my hot, reddened ass, followed by the sting of leather. I moaned in delight, shrieked in agonized lust, and pretended to attempt to resist. The verbal assault continued, coming from three mouths, and hands and fingers molested my bare body, driving me insane with desire.

“Look at the useless slut; she loves it.”

“I do love it,” I agreed. “I’m a slut, a whore, begging to be used. Fucking use me like you own me. Make me pay for being such a slut. I’m fucking cumming!”

Angie came twice from the combination of my tongue and the cock pounding into her pussy. My husband’s expert spanking, plus my fingers buried in my cunt, brought me off hard and fast. Then, Sammy pulled out his juice-coated, pulsing shaft and shot his hot, white, sticky cum all over Angie’s body. It spurted as high up as her tits, coated her taut, muscular stomach, and painted abstract, erotic art on her pubes.

“Lick it off of me, you worthless skank. That’s it. You’re such a greedy slut, and you’re going to be dressed up like a cheap, trashy whore to make cunts wet and cocks hard. You will serve our pleasure, you slut, and you’re going to love it.”

I licked, savoring the salty reward on her molten flesh. I was so fucking far gone that I came once more, my fingers on my clit, as I licked and got spanked.

“Will somebody please fuck me? Please, please fuck me. I need a cock in my cunt. I’m so fucking turned on right now. Please, fuck me. I’ll do anything.”

“Yes, you will,” my smiling, laughing husband observed. “But, dinner first.”

“Are you seriously going to stop now, with me this worked up?” I crammed three fingers deep into my cunt, my other hand tugging and pounding on my clit. “Fucking, fuck me like the slut I am. Use me, please!”

“Nope. Dinner first. We have reservations for four. Are you sated yet?”

I wasn’t even remotely satisfied, and he knew it.

“Angela, would you be so kind as to help my slut dress for dinner?”

“Next time, can I be the one treated like a piece of meat?” she asked me as we went upstairs.

The dress had already been laid out. It was a gauzy, white linen Boho-style dress. Bloused, short sleeves and a scooping neckline gave way to a vertical line of buttons in the front. Trimmed in delicate, frilly lace, the dress was sewn from horizontal panels of wispy fabric, the multiple hemlines adding style and flair.

“You can see right through that!” I exclaimed.

”That’s the idea, you little, dirty slut. Put it on. You’re to be on display, so everyone that sees you knows that you’re nothing but a useless piece of fuck meat.”

Denied the harsh pounding I desperately needed, my libido fixated on being displayed in public, paraded around like some cheap whore. My liquid arousal dripped down to my calves.

“Get your slutty fingers out of your cunt and get dressed, Krystal!”

“I need to fucking cum. I’m so horny.”

An evil look crossed my doppelgänger’s face, and she grabbed my cellphone charger, bending the cable into a loop.

“Bad slut! Bend over.”

Angie wasn’t brutal, thankfully, but the thin cord spanking my needy ass stung a little, just enough to make my pussy gush. Ten lashes, fingering my slit between strokes, were my punishment. My body quaked and shivered as I donned the skimpy dress. Our eyes met, and we erupted in laughter.

“Sluts ride in the back,” I was told. I’d wanted this, so I happily crawled into the rear seat, wedged between my friends. My husband drove.

“Sammy, pull out your cock, so the whore can clean it.”

“Awesome! Whip it out, Sammy. My mouth is hungry for more than food.”

The drive to our favorite restaurant, the Grotto, is very short. It’s a touristy place, and not many locals visit. However, being a weeknight, it was mostly devoid of customers. The owner and staff know us, and a majority of the people in our medieval re-creation group frequent the establishment. They’re used to my husband's antics, so my slutty, see-through attire was tolerated.

“And what would you like this evening, Krystal?” our waitress, Aubrey, asked me.

“Slut,” I corrected. “See how I’m dressed? Tonight, please call me a slut, tramp, whore, or anything like that.”

She smiled at me, and then her eyes traveled up and down my husband’s sexy torso. There’s a Krystal-induced history there, so I said nothing. “Well, then. What would the slut like?”

That set the tone for the evening. Since business was slow that evening, the waiters and waitresses, the owner, the chef, and even the busboys dropped by to verbally arouse me by calling me all sorts of names. I even stood up, bent over, flashed my saturated pussy, and got my ass fondled and slapped. Regrettably, when other customers came in, we had to act at least somewhat civilized. Nonetheless, being treated like today’s steak special had me ready to explode in a fireball of horny passion.

As we left, a group of men, all in their fifties or older, stopped their chatter about the fish they’d caught and leered at me. I winked, smiled, licked my bottom lip, and chewed on it, feeling my nipples poke out under their gazes.

“Now clean my pussy, you fucking whore, so Sammy can fuck a nice, clean cunt, later,” Angie commanded.

Sam and my husband sat in the front on the way back while I slurped and feasted on Angela’s dripping pussy. Feeling so horny over having been made to show off on the way to and inside the restaurant, I knelt in my seat, raising my skirt, so any drivers on the road would have a fantastic view of my nude ass and my fingers playing in my wetness.

When we got home, I thanked my friends for helping me fulfill my deviant needs, and they left with us all, promising to get together for some tame fun sometime.

“Does the dirty slut need anything else?” my husband asked me. The look on his face told me that he already knew that I did.

“Yes!” I screamed. I lay down on the living floor, hiking up my diaphanous skirt. “She needs to be brutally violated and treated like the insatiable, perverted whore she is!”

When I get aroused more than my usual, insatiable nympho state, I’m a force to be reckoned with. When I go on a sex bender, I need to try and do anything and everything. The best part, or the worst, depending on your point of view, was that I was just getting started.

The end.