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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Singleton and Green welcomed each co-investor as he stepped into the penthouse. The two managing partners went to stand by the elevator when the doorman, thirty floors below, called up to alert them to the new arrival. Harris, LeBlanc, Jefferson, Tagliaferro, Ming, Jovanovich, Dartmoor, Wilkes: not all of them country-club types, but none of them the slightest bit shady. Above all, every one a businessman with an understanding of the importance of the bottom line.

Tonight, each man had a nearly identical broad smile on his face. It had taken Singleton nearly six months to round them all up. He had worked to discover in each case a certain outlook: most important, the prospect of sharing a beautiful young woman who might be enjoyed as one pleased produced a particular response in every one of these men.

Singleton had only chosen men who displayed enthusiasm, but whose eagerness was restrained by the realities of the necessary arrangement. To buy one’s own defaulter represented a cost-prohibitive proposition, reserved for the ultra-rich: all ten of the men present tonight to fuck Karen Hunter belonged to the .001%, but only the addition of two more zeroes allowed a man to purchase a girl for his sole use. The men Singleton had found, and Green had approved, had all manifested a keen interest in having a girl, but also an interest in sharing her.

Frank Harris, for example, had intimated to Singleton over a cigar that he had daydreamed of keeping a girl in the basement of the second home he owned mainly for the purpose of fucking his various mistresses. “But then I’d have to pay someone else to look after her when I wasn’t there,” he’d added wistfully before Singleton let him in on the deal Green had started to put together.

One week before Green and Singleton went to the CDF to choose the girl who would serve all ten investors, and anyone else each man might decide to lend her to on his night, or who might be invited to the weekly gangbang, the investors had all met to sign papers and deliver checks. Sitting in the same living room where they now began to mill around, drinks in hand, greeting old friends and relatively new acquaintances, Green had laid out the details one final time. Looking around the nine faces of the men who would soon become his fellow owners of a cunt, an ass, and the pretty face attached, hopefully with some nice tits in between, Singleton would never have imagined that he himself might have a problem with the lovingly crafted arrangement.

A four-week cycle: four days off, two days each for the ten investors, four gangbangs. All the days had seemed so neatly accounted for that the men looked a little puzzled by the good fortune of being ten in number. Singleton had felt a good deal of pride, for though Green had of course taken care of the accounts and the contracts, he had drawn up the plan.

Now Singleton had the image of the real Karen Hunter in the back of his mind. Only he and Green had seen her in person, though the others must have availed themselves of the video stream from the detention facility. Above all, he couldn’t shake the memory of using her mouth the previous night, right after Green had finished there. His cock leapt at the ghost sensation of her hair around his fingers and her mouth around his thrusting cock.

He and Green followed Vern Wilkes, the last man to arrive, into the living room, where Pete and Joe had pulled a black metal, glass-topped coffee table into the center of the echoing white space adorned with blood-red chairs and couches.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Green said. “Welcome. I hope you’ve arrived ready to fuck.”

A ripple of laughter went through the eight newcomers at the studied coarseness of the financier. Singleton tried to relax, telling himself that the tension he felt came only from his desire that this first night of the scheme he had devised go well for everyone.

Everyone. Even Karen, though she will never admit she needs it.

“Griff,” Green said now, “would you like to say a few words before we bring her out?”

Singleton smiled: at least when he had an audience—especially an audience this congenial—he could never feel nervous. His unshakable faith in his skills of persuasion had never shown itself to be misplaced, and these men didn’t require any persuasion at all.

“Sure, Sam. Welcome, again… to Sam’s place.” The line didn’t really have any actual humor in it, but his timing and his ironic tone made the rest of the men, even Green himself, laugh—in fact Singleton felt sure he had gotten a better laugh with his line than Green had gotten with the directness of his reference to fucking. This would go brilliantly; the tension in his mind began to slip away. He would think about Karen’s needs later; what mattered now was the enjoyment of Karen’s body by the men who had each paid a very large sum to fuck her regularly.

“I think you’ve all probably watched some of the video from Karen’s exciting day in jail yesterday.”

Another laugh: Singleton had hit his stride, as always with great ease.

“What you didn’t get to see is our shopping trip afterward. When we present her to you in a few moments I hope you’ll appreciate our taste in lingerie.”

A chuckle—but Singleton thought he could hear in the slightly muted sound that humor had started to give way to arousal.

“Thank you for coming.” He looked around at the nine avid faces, of several different ethnic backgrounds but all with the confidence that only continued success can bring. His understated expression of gratitude had brought a smile to all their lips. He turned to Pete and Joe, standing near the entrance to the hall that led to the block of bedrooms of which Karen represented the only current occupant. “Let’s get our girl out here to meet her masters.”

The two dark-suited henchmen disappeared into the hallway. Murmured conversations broke out among small groups of the investors, about the prospect of having drinks refilled, about dinners eaten before heading here for the long-anticipated main event of the night.

The pause stretched further than Singleton had anticipated. He glanced at Green, who had his head close together with Jovanovich. As Singleton looked, Green met his eye, his brow furrowed slightly: yes, this was taking too long.

A door banged, and indistinct, angry words could be heard in Pete’s voice. Singleton looked around again to see quizzical looks on the faces of his co-investors. Just as he thought he would have to think of something to say so that he could go investigate, Joe reappeared, with Karen held tightly by the elbow and Pete just behind. She had on the sweats they had given her for her days off.

Singleton frowned. Green and he had looked in on the girl just before they went out to greet the arriving investors, and seen that she had put on the white lace lingerie just as they had instructed. They had left the door open so that she could go to the bathroom if she needed to, but it hadn’t seemed like a risk because the hallway had no exit other than through the living room.

“Pete?” Green asked.

“Found her in the other bedroom. In the closet,” Pete said. “Cunt must have meant to try to run away while we thought she was gone or something.”

Green looked at the girl, whose downturned face had resumed the hard, impassive expression they had seen the previous night. “Karen?” he asked in a tone of disappointment that had nevertheless a hard edge behind it. “What did you think you were doing?”

A shudder went through her whole body, then, but she said nothing.

Singleton’s thoughts and emotions roiled inside him: some frustration at Karen having ruined her presentation to the carefully selected men present, some pity for her fear despite his unyielding determination to get his and the others’ money’s worth, and much more lust for the delights of the new scene about to unfold.

“Well, girl,” he said, in a voice loud enough to make clear he meant his pronouncement as much for the ears of the other men as for Karen’s, “you’ve just made tonight a good deal harder on yourself. Pete and Joe, get those sweats off her, please and bring her over to the table. I’m hoping she still has her pretty things on underneath.”

She did: Joe held Karen in place and Pete ripped her sweatpants down and pulled them off her feet to show the stockings and suspenders. She struggled, but with two men to subdue her the voluminous hoodie came off too, to reveal her tiny breasts in the lacy bra, the garter belt, and the thong that at her owners’ instruction she had put on over the suspenders so that her masters could fuck her more easily.

Or whip her more easily, Singleton thought with grim satisfaction. The henchmen pulled the recalcitrant girl toward the center of the room. That movement in the direction of certain punishment—for Green already had in his hand the heavy punishment strap upon which the investors had agreed for the purpose of correcting faults in their girl’s behavior—made Karen start to yell.

“No! You can’t! You fucking assholes!” She looked around wildly as they dragged her toward the table. She saw only smiles on the faces of the men who had paid a good deal of money for exactly the sort of thing they would now witness.

“Maybe you should have thought about what might happen if you defaulted on your loan,” Harris suggested.

“You’re only getting what’s coming to you, for trying to run away,” Ming said.

Each comment drew a chuckle from the other men.

“Please!” Karen said. “Please… I’ll…” But it appeared she couldn’t even finish voicing her acquiescence, because with tears in her eyes she said in her hard voice, “You fucking assholes.”

“Stop a moment,” Green, who stood next to the table now, said. Joe and Pete had her at the edge of the table and had been about to bend her over it.

Karen looked at him wildly.

“Karen, sweetheart,” Green said, putting his hand out to cup her chin, “yours is the only asshole that’s going to get fucked tonight, so you should use the singular: asshole, not assholes. But, yes, we’re going to do some very pleasant fucking there.” His next words were addressed to Pete and Joe, but he still spoke them straight to Karen. “Hold her down for her whipping.”

“Oh, my God, fuck you,” Karen spat back at him, but even as the words left her mouth Pete and Joe were making her kneel, making her lie over the table. Joe, on the opposite side of the table from Green, pressed the girl’s waist into the glass surface of the tabletop. Pete came around to Green’s side to hold her shoulders down.

“Mr. Harris and Mr. Ming, would you hold her hands, please?” Green asked. “We don’t want her interfering in any way. Mr. Jovanovich, would you please do this naughty girl the honor of pulling down her panties?”

The rest of the men watched as the three lucky chosen stepped forward. Karen sobbed into the hard glass.

“Poor Karen,” Singleton said, seeing the need and the opportunity to reestablish some share in controlling the scene, “we were going to have you ride a dildo here on the table, while we took turns watching from underneath.”

“Oh, we’ll still do that,” Green said. “She’s just going to have a whipped bottom and a nice big plug in her while she does it, now. And the dildo is going to be a real cock.”

Karen tried to raise her head, but Pete put his left hand atop it almost casually, turning her cheek to the glass and holding her in place.

Green continued in a matter-of-fact tone, “That will be after we all fuck you right here, following your punishment. You’ve lost the right to a nice quiet time getting to know each of your owners. You’re our little party whore now.”

Karen gasped. “No!” she said, but it seemed she didn’t even have an insult to deliver.

Singleton said, certain of his knowledge concerning their girl, “Mr. Jovanovich, would you feel that cunt and tell us whether she’s wet?”

“Oh, God,” Karen sobbed. “Please… don’t…”

But of course Ernie Jovanovich didn’t lose the opportunity: he put his hand down and gripped the girl’s cunt firmly, probed for a moment.

“Don’t!” Karen wailed, all her attempts to remain defiant seeming suddenly to flee.

“Fucking Niagara Falls,” Jovanovich confirmed.

It could never have worked, Karen kept saying to herself, as if the thought might bring some consolation. That plan would never have worked, and no other plan would ever work. With all these men here, on top of a skyscraper, you aren’t going to get away tonight.

Couldn’t she just turn her whole body to stone, then? Let them do whatever they wanted, and fly away to some happy place and wait until a time came when she could run away? Or even until her debt was paid, years from now?

But the hand on her pussy and the voice of its owner announced to all of them that Karen Hunter couldn’t do that, because apparently her body didn’t understand that Karen wanted to fly away.

“That won’t last very long,” Green said. “It’s time to whip our little whore. Karen, while I punish you, I want you to remember that this could have gone very differently. I’m going to do my best to keep this from happening again, by teaching you a lesson you won’t forget for a few days at least. Spread those knees a little more for me, Mr. Jovanovich. I want her naughty cunt to feel some of this.”

Karen sobbed as the man tugged her panties down to her knees, then put his hands between her thighs to pull her knees apart so that the fabric stretched to its utmost, digging into the flesh of her legs.

“That’s it,” Mr. Green said. “She could be having fun with that little pussy right now, but she decided she needed to be a naughty girl. Well, Karen, it’s time to learn what happens to naughty girls.”

The hands of the four men who held her firmly in place—Joe at her right side, Pete at her left, and Mr. Harris and Mr. Ming in front of her—all tightened their grips. A part of Karen’s mind told her that it must mean Mr. Green had raised the terrible black strap she had seen in his hand. She couldn’t help crying out in fear, even as her insane, traitorous body felt another awful rush of heat between her thighs, in the bare pussy from which they had stripped even the nearly useless covering of the lacy panties.

Then she heard the crack of the strap across both her bottom-cheeks, and she felt the searing pain of the lash, and she started to scream and to struggle against the many hands that held her down. Her arousal departed instantly: Mr. Green whipped her hard and fast, visiting the bottom held firmly in place for whipping, then her upper thighs, then the place between them, the tender spot where he made sure her pussy did feel the sting of the strap as he lashed her there over and over.

The rebellion of her body against her will extended now to her voice, so terrible was the agony in the poor bottom that tried to buck and squirm over the table, but was held fast by Joe’s hands at her waist and right knee, by Pete’s hands at her shoulders and head.

“Please, no more! Please, I’ll be good!”

Once in the franticness of her need to escape the burning torment Karen managed to twist free a little, and turned on her side. Mr. Green said calmly, “Get her back in place. Karen, you’ll get extra for trying to get out of what your ass has coming.”

They held her more securely after that, and Karen felt herself go limp in their grasp, her screams fading to sobs, though to her mortification she couldn’t keep her bottom-cheeks from desperate motions of their own.

“Look at that little bottom squirm,” said one of the men who stood on Karen’s right side. “I can’t wait to be inside her there.”

“The cunt looks nice, too,” said another. “Singleton, you did us an enormous favor, even if it cost me an upgrade to my yacht.”

Mr. Green stopped whipping her. “You’ll have a good look at your backside in the mirror before bed every night and when you get up in the morning, Karen,” he said. “I hope it helps you understand that obedience is your best choice. Disobedience doesn’t get you anything except a very sore bottom, and I don’t just mean your butt-cheeks and your thighs, as you’re about to find out. Gentlemen, I think it’s time to plug that ass, to get it ready for fucking. Mr. Singleton, could you bring the biggest plug from the cabinet, and a bottle of lube?”

“With pleasure,” she heard Mr. Singleton’s voice say.

Mr. Green spoke again. “Mr. LeBlanc, could you attend to the cunt for a moment? It’s almost time to put our cocks in there, and I believe it may be the best punishment of all for this girl to teach her how much she needs what we have for her. You gentlemen holding her down, keep a firm grip. She may get a little wild.”

Another hand touched her punished bottom, rubbed gently, and Karen couldn’t stifle the whining moan that burst from her chest. She felt herself becoming wild, just as Mr. Green had said, felt herself trying again to escape the hands holding her down. To her horror, though, as Mr. LeBlanc moved his soft touch inward, to rub her pussy up and down, caress her burning clit, the struggle seemed to intensify the arousal she felt there, as if her whole body somehow shared in it now through the muscles the four men restrained.

“There we go,” said a cultured voice from directly behind her and above her: Mr. LeBlanc. “There we go. I know it’s hard to take a whipping, but you can be our good girl now, can’t you?”

She sobbed into the table as she felt her pussy gush its wetness into his hand.

“That’s it. So nice and wet for us, aren’t you? Mr. Green, I think you could lubricate the plug with her sweet cunny’s juices if you’d like.”

Cunny. She’d never heard a pussy called that before. It seemed worse even than cunt—more degrading somehow. She whimpered at the sound. Mr. LeBlanc stepped away.

“Thanks,” said Mr. Green, “but this is easier to control.” Karen heard a snap, and then a squirt. Her face went hot.

“No, please…” she whispered. The men, who had been carrying on quiet, murmuring conversations just a few moments before, had suddenly all fallen silent as if at the sight of whatever Mr. Green held in his hand, so her whisper came clearly to her own ears and, she felt sure, to theirs, against the soft background noise of ice clinking in drink glasses.

“We did warn you not to disobey, sweetheart,” said Mr. Singleton. “We even put you in your cage last night to help you understand. Now it’s time to learn your lesson.”

She wanted to cry that she had already learned her lesson with the strap, but a remnant of her defiance, her hardness, kept her from giving in that way.

“Mr. Jefferson,” said Mr. Green, “would you hold the bottom open for me?”

“Glad to,” said a deep voice that made Karen think that Mr. Jefferson must be the black man she had noted among her owners. More hands, rougher than Mr. LeBlanc’s. Karen cried out as he spread her whipped buttocks, held them far apart.

“This will be difficult for you at first,” Mr. Green said. “Try to remember how you relaxed for the doctor yesterday.”

Karen whimpered at the memory, and then a hard, rounded thing pushed at the tight ring of her anus. The sensation made her tighten, despite Mr. Jefferson’s hands holding her bottom open, and that brought searing pain from the whipping that made her cry out.

“You have to open, Karen,” Mr. Green said in a harsh voice that seemed to make her whole body quiver. “This plug is going in your anus one way or another.”

He pushed again, and with a sob Karen managed to move her muscles there in a terribly shameful way that let the plug in. But as Mr. Green pressed it inside her bottom it kept getting wider and wider, so that she shrieked and struggled.

“She’s got some lungs,” she heard Mr. Harris say in front of her, a chuckle in his voice.

The thing pressed harder, got wider, until Karen thought she would faint at the pain, but then suddenly it narrowed again, and her bottom closed over what must be the taper at the base of it. For a moment silence reigned in the living room except for Karen’s jerking sobs of discomfort to have her anus so terribly full.

Then Mr. Green said, “Put her on all fours on the table. We’ll fuck her now.”

The plug in her bottom made her cry out again as they lifted her, arranged her, pulled her panties up—to her surprise, though now she felt Mr. Green pulling the lace aside, over her right bottom-cheek, and she understood that they meant to enter her like that, leaving her panties on, arrogantly disrespecting what suddenly seemed like the natural order.

A girl’s underwear was meant to keep her protected. Her underwear came down for sex, but only when she decided the time had arrived. Now Karen’s owners would decide that for her.

She felt Mr. Green’s hand there, inside the lacy thong, finally finding out for himself just how wet this terrible scene had gotten her. He pressed gently on the anal plug, and Karen moaned.

“It’s time, sweetheart. It’s time to be a good girl for the men who bought you. Tell us what you need. Ask us to fuck you.”

“Oh, God,” Karen moaned. “Please… don’t…”

“Shh,” said Mr. Singleton, standing by her head, rubbing her back, slipping his right hand around to cup her little breast. “Let this happen. Let your body have what it needs. Be our good girl.”

Mr. Green’s hand moved so gently. She heard his belt being unbuckled, his pants dropping to the floor. She felt something firm just against the lips of her pussy, moving softly up and down, parting her petals just a little, but waiting to enter.

“You don’t want another whipping, do you, Karen?” Mr. Green asked, rubbing her right bottom-cheek to remind her of how badly she wanted to avoid that pain, that shame.

The need in her pussy burned like the kind of itch that won’t let you think about anything else until you’ve given in and scratched it. Karen closed her eyes and hung her head as her hips moved, pressed back, invited. But Mr. Green pulled his cock back, too, teasing her.

Karen whispered desperately, “Fuck me.”

He took hold of her hips and entered her in a rush, giving a low grunt of pleasure that seemed to increase her humiliation but also her helpless arousal. The feeling of the cock in her pussy and the toy in her bottom overwhelmed her, wrung a sob of ambiguous pleasure from her chest.

“Is she good?” asked Mr. Singleton, as Mr. Green held himself in deep, his lap pushing the awful plug in even further. “Is she as tight as she looks?”

“Oh, my God, yes,” Mr. Green answered, his voice sounding husky, as if the pleasure Karen’s tight pussy gave his cock had mastered him, if only slightly; had penetrated his terrible calm, his diffident reserve. “Won’t take me long to come in here. Go ahead and take turns watching under the table, gentlemen. Karen, you wet little slut, you’ll keep your eyes open if you know what’s good for you.”

He started to thrust in and out, slamming his hips into her whipped backside so hard that Karen cried out with every thrust.

Did she know what was good for her?

She opened her eyes and stared straight up into the lustful gaze of Mr. Harris, who had dropped his trousers and underpants and was pumping his thick cock only a few inches from her face.

“Look at this, party whore,” he said coldly. “It will be inside you soon.”

Karen dropped her head and saw that Mr. Ming had gotten onto his back and slid beneath the glass table to look up at the fucking of her pussy by Mr. Green’s cock. The shudder of humiliation that washed over her, the way it caused another gush of wetness around the hard penis that thrust inside her, made her ask again, Do I know what’s good for me?

Lydia would like this, wouldn’t she? Lydia the saleswoman, who had seen Karen’s paddled bottom and had held envy in her heart.

“Mr. Singleton, I think we should make her come on my cock. Rub the clit, please.”

She couldn’t see it happening behind her, but she felt his hand under there, making a circle with his fingertips, and she screamed, moving her hips shamelessly, terribly, her body demanding more of what her mind rejected, until she exploded into an orgasm like nothing she had ever imagined she could feel.

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