Finally, I had a plan! I would confront Alan with his subconscious feelings for me, get him to admit to them, and we could go from there, building a more healthy relationship.

Well, that was the plan.

"Come on, Valerie, get your clothes on, we're going to a party!" As usual, Alan had appeared unexpectedly at my door and, as always, I was stripped naked, wearing my collar, just in case he did. On his orders, I put on the blue dress and stockings which I had worn before, and headed out to his car.

"Where are we going, Sir?" I asked.

"It's a surprise, you'll love it!" he replied, smiling. I looked at him doubtfully, wondering if this ‘party’ was going to involve humiliation and sex. Despite my conscious reluctance, my fickle body responded by making me distinctly moist between the thighs.

"I have something that I have to talk to you about, Alan," I said, making myself stick to the plan. "This thing is, when we were in that producer’s office, you-" I was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing, and all I could do was watch as he picked up the Bluetooth earphone and plugged it in.

"Oh hi, Kate!" he said enthusiastically into the microphone, "how are you doing? Yes, I'm good! Yes, I'm on my way, it'll be great to see you there! Oh, I've got to tell you, this amazing thing happened today, you'll never believe it! I went into town…"

To my dismay, he kept up a conversation with this Kate which just went on and on, regaling her with, I would say, not very interesting anecdotes of his glamorous life as an actor. When he did stop talking to draw breath, she obviously returned the favour, and the phone call just went on. When it finally ended, I was about to start my speech again, but he started another phone call, talking to someone called Tom, and proceeded to entertain him with exactly the same stories!

"Sorry, Tom, I'm going to have to go," Alan finally said as he pulled the car into a gravelled drive up to a very impressive house, "just pulling up now, I'll see you in a few minutes. Ciao!" The car came to a halt outside the house, just one more sports car in a row of at least half a dozen, and Alan jumped out, beckoning me to join him.

The front door was opened by what looked like a maid - who has a maid in this day and age? - and she showed us through the rather opulent house and out onto the veranda. There was a group of people, drinks in hand, chatting and laughing together, and I immediately fell out of place. The men, about seven or eight of them, were all casually but smartly dressed, while the women, probably eight or ten, were either dressed in tailored shorts, ridiculously short miniskirts or, in three cases, bikinis. Meanwhile, I was in my frumpy dress, stockings and heels! I had no idea who these people were, although the girls in bikinis looked like swimwear models. It seemed that the younger and more gorgeous the woman was, the more flesh she was showing.

"Alan!" I heard a woman's voice squeal, and my heart sank. "Darling! So wonderful you could come! And you brought your slut with you, lovely!"

It was that awful woman, Verity, the one who had made me lick her out and then whipped me. It was clear the this was her house, that this was her party. She greeted Alan ecstatically, air kissing and hugging repeatedly, then introducing him smugly to her other guests.

"And this is Alan's little ‘friend’… What's your name, dear? Oh yes, Valerie!" I nervously nodded in response to their smiled greetings, and felt all their eyes upon me, assessing me, some judging me in a more friendly light than others. I particularly sensed the glares from some of the older women, while the swimwear models looked rather amused by my lack of glamour.

"You join in," she urged, ushering Alan into the circle, "thingy and I will get the drinks." She linked arms with me and led me back into the house and through to the kitchen.

"I'm so glad you came," she gushed, "I don't know what I would have done without you!" She took a small, lacy apron, down from a hook and held it out to me expectantly. I stared at her, uncomprehending, and looked down at the apron.

"Oh, didn't Alan tell you?" she said with a tone of sympathy, "I asked him if I could borrow you to help out with serving the drinks!" Realisation hit me with a horrible, sinking feeling, as it became clear that Alan hadn't brought me as a guest to the party, but as a servant! Feeling like I wanted to cry, I reached out and took the apron from her, putting it over my head.

"I think you’re a little overdressed, don’t you?" Verity said archly.

"What?!" I gasped as it dawned on me what she was implying, "you've got to be joking!"

"Do you want me to go and get my whip, slut?" The threat of another whipping was enough and, reluctantly, I pulled the dress off over my head, leaving me just as I had been in her office, naked except for my collar, stockings, suspenders and heels. I put on the apron, which just about covered my bush, but left my nipples and buttocks fully exposed.

"That's better," she smiled, "now, let's just ‘accessorise’." She reached into a drawer and brought out a set of leather cuffs, which she placed around my wrists and ankles, locking each one in place. She then produced two lengths of chain with which she joined my wrists together, a couple of feet apart, and my ankles, with a little more slack. She took off my glasses, putting them on the side, and passed me a tray full of drinks.

"Okay, let's go serve some drinks!"

As I came back out onto the patio, there was a round of applause when they saw me, accompanied by a few whoops and hollers. I shuffled over to the group, the chain rattling on the paving slabs, my face red as a beetroot as they all stared at me. With my head down, I went around whilst they took the glasses from the tray in front of me. Finally, I approached Alan. He gave me a big grin as he took his drink with one hand and cupped my breast with the other, flicking and then tweaking the nipple until it stood erect. The others were laughing at this point.

"Where do you find them, Alan?" one of the men laughed.

"I don't find them," Alan replied, moving his hand around to grope my buttock, “I make them, like moulding putty. Valerie, though, you're a natural, aren't you? You love all this stuff, being humiliated, being treated like the slut you are." I managed to go an even deeper shade of red and, as the tray was empty, took the opportunity to run away – or shuffle away, at least – back inside.

However, any hope of escaping or hiding away was dashed when I was met at the door by the girl who had let us in, handing me another tray, this one covered with canapés, and shooing me away with a grin on her face. Feeling completely trapped, I turned and went back to the group, passing between them as they took the food on offer.

As I overheard their conversation, it became clear that they were all in the TV or film business, producers, directors, actors or other technical staff. It turned out that the three Bikini-clad lovelies were dancers in a programme produced by one of the men, and they were eager to use this social situation to move their careers into acting. Alan was soon deep in conversation with one of them, a particularly good looking, tall, curvy blonde and, as they moved away from the group to be able to speak more privately, I felt a pang of jealousy. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it felt like this bimbo was moving in on my territory - I was Alan's slut, not her!

Gradually, I became less self-conscious about being naked, in chains, and serving like some kinky waitress, and found myself becoming more and more aroused by exactly those things, helped along by the frequent fondling of my body by the guests, both male and female. As the summer afternoon turned into a pleasant evening, Verity came over and indicated that I should come inside.

"Debbie," she said, calling the ‘maid’ over, "could you get our waitress here ready for the evening's entertainment?"

"Of course, ma'am," the girl replied, taking my arm and leading me inside and through the house. She unlocked a door and led me into the room beyond, closing the door once she was inside. I looked around in amazement and alarm.

"What's this?!" I exclaimed, not wanting to accept what was pretty obvious.

"This is madam's playroom," Debbie responded, "and tonight, you're going to be the centre of attention!"

On one level, the room looked like a den, with sofas, a couple of chairs, two large flatscreen TVs on the wall, and a bar in the corner. But on another, far more obvious, level it looked like a torture chamber, with chains hanging from the ceiling, manacles on the walls, a St Andrews Cross in one corner, and a rack of whips, floggers and canes on one wall. The place scared the hell out of me!

Debbie went to a set of drawers and brought back a waist cincher, which she handed to me and told me to put on. It was shiny and black, feeling like thick, stiff rubber, and I could feel the stays inside it. I put it around my waist and fastened the buckles at the front. The girl told me to lean over and hold on to the back of a chair while she pulled the laces tight behind. Very quickly, I felt my waist being crushed until it felt like it was tiny, and I was struggling for breath. Finally she finished, closing a panel to hide the laces, and I straightened up, feeling just how restrictive the garment was. I ran my hands over the smooth, shiny surface, noticing how it met my skin, leaving slight bulges where it pinched me tight. From there, my fingers seemed to stray naturally, to fondle my breasts, my buttocks, and my pussy…

By the time I had focused on her again, Debbie was standing in front of me holding what I recognised to be a leather armbinder. I turned my back to her and clasped my hands together behind me, as instructed, then felt her pull the leather up over my arms, covering them, until my fingers hit the bottom. She took the straps over my shoulders, between my breasts and under the opposite arm, buckling them to the main body, ensuring that I couldn't shrug it off. A strap fastened around my wrists prevented me from freeing my hands, and then gradually she tightened the laces, pulling my forearms closer until they seemed fused together. My shoulders were pulled back, making me thrust out my small breasts, and she didn't stop until my elbows were almost touching behind me. I now felt seriously restrained.

The girl then fitted me with a head harness which held a ring gag deep in my mouth, the other straps pulled tight across my cheeks, forehead and over the top of my head, with an additional strap underneath my chin, leaving me with no freedom to move my jaws at all. I began to imagine what kind of entertainment I was going to be expected to provide in this kind of bondage.

"Come on then," Debbie said, gripping my shoulder, "time to take your starting position."

She led me to the middle of the room and positioned me facing the door. She brought over a wooden bar with shackles at either end and applied it to my ankles, spreading them almost uncomfortably wide. She took a small chain hanging from the middle of the bar and attached it to an eyebolt in the floor directly beneath me, holding me in place - as if I was going to wander off anywhere otherwise! There was still more, as she brought over what looked like a medical neck brace, except that it was black and coated in rubber, like the waist cincher. She put it around my neck, forcing my chin up and preventing me from looking down, or even straight ahead unless I squinted down on my nose. My ability to move was gradually being reduced, and I felt like I was being transformed from a woman into a sex object.

There was a chain hanging from the ceiling by the wall in front of me, and when she took hold of it, pulling it towards me, I realised that it was on some kind of pulley. She took it behind me and, a few moments later, I heard the whirring of a motor. The chain began to disappear as it was retracted by the electric hoist and, at the same time, I felt my bound arms being pulled up behind me. Soon, I was having to lean forward, and eventually my body was horizontal to the floor, with my arms held vertically above me. I let out a groan as the pressure on my shoulder joints became even more severe. Surely she was finished now?!

Apparently not. I felt her put something into my nostrils, and then there was a thin chain rising from the tip of my nose above my head. As she pulled the chain up, there was a sharp pain in my nostrils and my head was lifted until I was staring straight in front of me at the wall, the weight of my head now supported by my screaming neck muscles and the hooks biting into my nostrils!

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, I let out a cry as pain shot through me, focused on my nipples. They were now being cruelly squeezed by what I assumed to be some very tight metal clamps.

"There you go," Debbie said as she squatted down in front of me, giving me a smile as she patted my cheek, "all ready for your big performance, darling. Now remember, smile for the camera s, and break a leg!" I saw that she had a remote control in her hand and, when she pressed the button, the two screens in front of me came to life. It took me a moment to recognise what I was looking at, but there on the left was an image of me, shot from the side, showing my extreme bondage position. On the right was a close-up taken directly behind me, framing my buttocks and spread thighs perfectly, giving a perfect view of my pussy!

I watched helplessly as the girl walked away and left the room. I was in so much pain! My shoulders felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, my jaws were already aching, my nose hurt like hell, and my hamstrings were screaming at me. The only part of my body I could actually move was my hips, and I didn't want to swing them about too much because that made the nipple clamps sway and bite even harder. But when I did move, I realised that the images in front of me were live video, enabling me, and anybody else, to see exactly what was happening.

Despite all that, I was incredibly aroused. I could feel the moistness of my sex, so exposed and available, my juices dribbling down the inside of my thigh. I watched the door, desperately hoping that someone - anyone, everyone! - would walk in and use me in whatever way they wanted. I didn't care whether they fucked me or used the instruments hanging from the walls to hurt me, I just needed some kind of physical stimulus.

It was about half an hour before the door finally opened, and in streamed all the people who had been out on the patio, carrying their drinks, laughing and chatting as they came in, looking at me in various combinations of amazement, amusement and excitement. They gathered around me, touching me, fondling my breasts, stroking my buttocks, pushing their fingers into me. The sensations within me went off the scale, making me moan and whine in mounting frustration that all these touches would not bring me to the orgasm I so desperately craved.

"Welcome to my new playroom," I heard Verity say, and I looked up to see her walking towards me. "I'm very grateful to Alan for providing his slut for me to demonstrate with, it's a shame he isn't here to witness it." There was general chuckling at this, but I looked around in alarm, realising for the first time that he was absent, as was the blonde bimbo he had been chatting up earlier. Suddenly, I felt terribly vulnerable - there was no-one to stop this violent woman from doing whatever she wanted with me!

"If you'll allow me," Verity went on, "I'd like to try some of my new toys out on this slut, and after the day I’ve had, I have a helluva lot of frustration to work out, believe me! But after I've had my fun, you're all welcome to do whatever you want with her."

She walked over to the wall in front of me, looking along the line of canes hanging there, and selected one, flexing it between her hands as she walked over and went behind me. I couldn't see her directly, but I could see her holding the cane in front of my buttocks on the right-hand TV. The little group moved back to give her room to swing, and then her arm moved out of the shot before, moments later, reappearing in a blur.

It felt like I had been cut with a knife, like my skin had been sliced open, and I fully expected to feel blood trickling down my legs. I thought she had hit me hard the other day, with the flogger, but this was a whole new level of agony. My screams expressed my surprise, or more like shock, as much as my suffering. And the blows rained down on my poor cheeks thick and fast. The cane strayed from my buttocks down onto my thighs, I'm not sure whether it was deliberate or just a little inaccuracy creeping in due to her concentration on delivering the strokes at speed with such ferocity. Not that it made any difference, it still hurt like hell whether she meant it or not. Tears streamed down my face until I could feel them running over by stretched lips, along with a rather disgusting flow of snot out of my tortured nose.

Eventually, the beating stopped, although my tears and moans continued unabated. But just as I thought the worst was over, I felt her bringing the stick up to strike my breasts hanging down below me. Once she was in position and had got her range, she struck out viciously, tormenting me until it was almost unbearable. Of course, I had no choice but to bear it, I could not get away.

"How are you doing there, Valerie?" I opened my eyes and saw that Verity was squatting down in front of me, wiping the tears from my cheeks and almost looking concerned. I could see that she was breathing quite heavily from the effort she had put into abusing me.

"Now, I've had my fun," she continued, "would you like me to release you? Or would you rather that these nice people take advantage of you whilst you’re completely helpless? Do you want them to fuck you, in any way they feel like? Is that what you want?" It was hard, and it made the hooks in my nostrils dig into the soft flesh, but I nodded my head ‘yes’ as hard as I could, making guttural noises of assent. Yes, I wanted them - no, I needed them - to fuck me!

It was the start of a long night. They took me at both ends, over and over, using me in whatever hole that happened to be free at the time. At some point - I had lost all track of time - they released me, and I cried in agony as someone tried to massage life back into my shoulders. As I lay on the floor, feeling all the aches and pains in my jaw and virtually every muscle in my body, I suddenly found myself underneath some woman who was sitting on my face, urging me to ‘get busy’ with my tongue. I did as I was told, and not reluctantly.

The hours went by, and I serviced them all, one by one, but also two, three, even four at a time. I was tied up in countless different ways, I was suspended by my wrists for a while. I crawled around on the floor from one to the next, using my hands, my mouth, presenting with my spread legs or my spread buttocks, whatever they wanted. I was covered in cum, splashed across my breasts, in my face, in my hair, dribbling from my lips, from my pussy, from my anus. And I orgasmed. Oh dear lord, did I orgasm! Too many to count, too many to remember, but somehow, never too many to satisfy me. I couldn't get enough. I only stopped when everyone else was either passed out or had gone home, and there was no-one left for me to fuck. At that point, I sprawled out on the floor exhausted, and fell asleep.

When I finally woke, I found myself alone in the playroom. Gingerly, I got to my feet, feeling about sixty years old, every joint and muscle aching, and still a horrible pain throbbing through my breasts and buttocks. I pushed my hair, thick with dried cum, out of my face and staggered into the hallway.

"Ah, my favourite cum-sucking slut!" It was Verity, looking immaculate in her business suit and make-up. "I would ask if you had a good night, but I can see you did!"

"Erm, could you tell me, please… where my clothes?"

"Sorry, dear," she said breezily as she headed for the door, "no idea, try Debbie." And with that, she was gone. I wandered around the house, but could find no sign of my clothes or of the maid-cum-bondage rigger. My head was pounding, I still felt dizzy with tiredness, and my stomach was rumbling from a lack of food.

At theat moment, I saw Alan coming down the stairs, his arm around the blonde bombshell he had been with the previous evening. She looked dishevelled (though not anything like as bad as me) but still gorgeous, and was wearing a tiny summer dress rather than the bikini I had first seen her in. The dress had a halter neck, so I could see that she wasn't wearing a bra and, when Alan leaned in and gave her a long, passionate kiss, ruffling up her skirt and fondling her pert bottom as he did so, it was obvious she wasn't wearing knickers either.

"Hi there, slut," he said as he wandered over towards me, having dismissed his shag for the night with a ‘see you tonight, babe’. "You ready to go?" As I was standing in front of him, naked and still filthy from the night before, it was obvious he wasn't really paying attention.

"I can't find my clothes, Alan," I said in a concerned tone, but I was already talking to his back as he walked out of the door. Faced with the prospect of staying here in this madhouse, or travelling home naked, I reluctantly chose the second option and ran after him.

As we rode along the motorway with the sports car top down, I had one arm firmly clamped across my chest and my other hand covering my crotch. As we drove past lorry after lorry, the drivers gawped down at my naked body below them, honking their horns in appreciation of this unexpected delight. The journey passed with only silence between us, and I don't think it was just the noise of the wind and the engine which left us with nothing to say.

As I got out of the car and realised that Alan wasn't going to come in to the house with me, I knew I had to speak out.

"Alan," I started as I leaned into the car, "I love you, and I'm sure you have feelings for me too, why won’t you admit it?" I was stunned when he laughed out loud.

"Love you?! Just how deluded are you, Valerie?" he spat at me, "you're a convenient fuck when there is nothing better around, that's all. And really, you don't love me! You love being fucked by as many different men in as many different ways as you can get. Admit it, you are just a slut! I think we’re done. Bye, Val." With those last, angry words, he put his foot down and disappeared in a cloud of tyre smoke.

I staggered into my house and threw myself down on the sofa. I sobbed, but no tears came to my eyes. I realised, finally, that he was right. I didn't love him, I was using him to get to what I wanted, just as he used me. I really did want this depraved, disgusting sex to which he had introduced me.

I knew I would never see Alan Finch again. Somehow, I had to come to terms with who and what I was. I had to get control of myself, and work out how I was going to live my life. I knew it was going to be a long and difficult journey…

The End…?