Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. ï>¿Kat Fucked Up by greer_masterson Kat Fucked Up Pt. 03 Katherine, fresh off her first gangbang, ups the ante. I glanced down at the sign on the door to the middle video booth. It signified 'vacant.' I turned and looked back at the store. In a place where most people did everything they could to avoid eye contact, every eye was on us. I hadn't thought about how out of place we looked. Kat was almost 5'10" in stocking feet and well over six feet tall in the heels she was wearing, which made her legs look substantially longer than they were. Her deep brown hair was up in a tight bun, and she wore bright red lipstick and a near ankle-length coat. I looked like one of the hippy-riche fresh from a winter jog around Lady Bird Lake, decked out in trail shoes, black fleece pants, and a bright neon weatherproof shell. I looked ridiculous and she looked suspicious. I'd been to this place--a middle-of-nowhere adult bookstore--several times before. It was twenty or so minutes outside of Austin on Highway 71 headed towards Bastrop. There was a welder in a building next to it, and the building on the other side looked abandoned. I wasn't sure if the bookstore had a name. I'd gone there looking for a specialty video once and the top of the receipt read "Books #1" with an address. There was a small white sign on the windowless wall facing the highway advertising "Adult Books" in dark red lettering. If you looked carefully or had a sharp eye, you could see the words "Video Booths" in small, faded, blue lettering on the side of the building underneath another sign pointing to parking behind the building. There were plenty of adult bookstores in Austin when the Internet failed to deliver, but this one had privacy, an unusual selection, and the drive wasn't unpleasant. Aside from that, it seemed to attract random events semi-frequently--maybe because it was an odd combination of secluded and accessible. I happened to be there for one of those glorious random events. A tall, beautiful woman, not unlike Kat other than her jet-black hair, walked into the store in a sheer maxi dress. She made eye contact with every man in the store, including me, and walked straight back to the video booths. She'd stopped, pulled off the dress in a slow, showy display, and entered the middle booth. Before that night I'd stayed away from the booths. I preferred the comfort of my own apartment near the law school, and I was certain men were jerking off in them. I had no desire to come into contact with another man's bodily fluids. After the raven-haired beauty disappeared, I heard two men talking and realized the booths had glory holes. I'd never seen a live sex act before and my curiosity got the best of me. My heart raced as I headed for the back of the store. Both of the booths on either side of the center booth showed 'occupied' so I waited. Another man joined me and avoided eye contact. Several minutes later, the booth to my right opened and a man hurriedly exited. I looked at the man next to me, who still refused eye contact. "Come on, man," he hissed. "You gonna just stand there?" Embarrassed, I eased into the booth. It took me several minutes to get my bearings, but I finally saw light coming through a hole in the wall. I expected a soup can-sized hole. To my surprise, it was much larger--wider than a bowling ball, and rectangular. The sides were protected with neon orange duct tape. It was less a glory hole and more a glory window. Still afraid to actually touch anything, I bent down the best I could and looked through. The video monitor in the center booth lit up the tall young woman, who was fucking some unknown man. As she humped back against the unknown cock, the light from the video monitor gave me intermittent views of what was happening. Moaning, she bent forward and her hand came through the hole I was looking through, searching, beckoning. I felt like I was on cruise control. I unzipped my pants and stepped to her hand. She massaged me for a few moments before, grasping me firmly, she pulled me into her world. I felt her mouth on me, felt the hum of her moaning. It didn't take much time, but I thought I heard the man on the other side finish. Regardless, her mouth came away from my cock and I saw her pussy through the hole as she impaled herself on me. I didn't think about sloppy seconds--or worse--until much later. Like the man before me, I hadn't lasted long either. I got the idea she wasn't disappointed. Somehow I knew it wasn't just anonymity that drove her, but quantity. After I finished inside her, I'd suddenly felt guilty and had the urge to flee. But, again, my curiosity got the best of me and I stuck around in the aisles of the store. I counted 14 men after me, which meant 17 including the two before me. I was astounded. When it appeared there would be no more and my adrenaline levels crashed, I went to the nearby bathroom, drenched several paper towels under the faucet, and headed into a stall to clean myself for some subconscious reason. While there, two hicks pulled the woman into the bathroom and fucked her on the floor, on the counter, and against the wall. I watched through the crack in the stall door and jerked off. When they were done, they left her on the disgusting floor in a heap. I remained silent while she hurriedly brought herself to orgasm. It sounds odd, but I was afraid to reveal myself. When she'd caught her breath, she left the bathroom. As far as I know, I never saw her again, but I saw someone around campus who looked like her. It couldn't have been, though, because someone told me the girl I'd seen around campus was on the university volleyball team. I'd returned to the store randomly, if infrequently, ever since. At least half the time, there was something unusual going on and interesting enough to keep the store in the back of my mind. I'd never seen another glory hole event like my first, but I'd seen others and not participated. I was too worried about STDs and none of the women I saw aroused me enough to take the risk. After I graduated from law school, my infrequent trips grew non-existent. I bought a small house off of Redbud Trail past Westlake Drive, with a great balcony that looked out at downtown Austin peeking between the hills. Still the bookstore was in the back of my mind and glory holes and random, anonymous, multiple-partner sex was my go-to fantasy. ***** "Ready?" I whispered to Kat out of the side of my mouth. I counted only seven men around the store. The Internet, I assessed, must have destroyed most places like this and marginalized the few that remained. I should have been surprised they were still in business. It was probably only the older crowd--the Luddites and the ignorant--that kept them going. I scanned the store again. All of the men were easily over 50. She looked around, shaking, and gave a terse nod. "Ever fuck a retiree?" I teased. Her eyes widened. "Never even thought about it," she whispered. I stuck out my hand. She looked at it, then at me. Though I couldn't hear it, I could see she was breathing heavily. She took a deep breath, slipped the coat past her shoulders, shrugged, and caught it as it fell past her waist. She handed it to me. Kat stood there, naked except for her black high heels, and looked around the store. A moment later, she vanished into the center booth. I smiled slightly and shivered in anticipation. I turned and followed her. The booth was smaller than I remembered the one next to it being. It was barely wide enough for both of us to sit next to each other. I quickly extracted a telescoping monopod from my jacket, extended it, then pulled a Canon HD camcorder out of my pocket and screwed it onto the monopod. I turned the flip screen around and, making sure the camera was zoomed all the way out and showed both sides of the booth, propped the camera in the corner. I adjusted it until it was stable and started recording. I put all of my dollar bills into the video monitor and, after reviewing the channels, selected a gangbang video. I laughed at the oddity of having no glory hole videos in an actual glory hole video booth. Kat stood in the corner opposite the camcorder and watched each glory hole, oblivious to what I was doing. When I was done, I leaned against the door next to her. As a warm up, she gave me a semi-distracted blow job. Several minutes--5, 10--went by and nothing. Nonplussed, Kat sat down and, for wont of something better to do, began watching the video while she absentmindedly massaged my cock. Several days earlier I'd explained my previous experiences with her and she'd initially refused to come here, telling me it wasn't what she had in mind, but she gradually warmed to the idea, revealing that it was kinkier to not even know what they looked like. I considered going to the next booth just to give her the experience, when we heard a voice whisper from our right. "It's not gonna be the guy sucking my dick, is it?" "No," I replied quietly before Kat could say anything. "I'm only here to make sure she doesn't get hurt." And to film everything, I thought. Another minute passed, then a small, shriveled dick attached to an overweight groin area appeared at the hole. Kat stared at it for a moment, seemingly uncertain, then reached out and began stroking it the best she could. Her hand dwarfed the tiny cock. It stayed shriveled up, so she got to her knees and took it in her mouth. It quickly grew hard, so she stood, turned around, and positioned herself against it. "He smells bad," she mouthed silently to me, then reached between her legs and inserted him. She moaned. "I've never been so turned on before," she said to no one in particular, and grasped my arm to brace herself. "It's hard to keep him inside me," she whispered. "He's too small and I'm too...slippery." Awkward at first, they eventually built a rhythm with him plunging into her as she fucked back against him. A few minutes later, I heard him groan and Kat pushed her ass all the way to the wall as he came in her. She leaned over and looked between her legs. The light from the video monitor revealed his spasming balls hanging over the lip of the hole. He slipped free of her and Kat immediately went to her knees to clean him off. His cock disappeared when she was done. "Did you come?" I asked her. "No, but I was so close! I've never been this wet before. Feel me!" "Uh...no." "Oh, right," she laughed, and cupped her hand over her pussy. "Was it what you'd hoped?" "It wasn't quite wh--" Her eyes moved to the hole the man had vacated. There was a new cock, this one already hard, poking through. It was considerably bigger than the previous one, but no better than average. She quickly went to her knees and took him in her mouth. A few seconds later, she let it slip from her lips with an audible smack. "Wanna fuck me?" she asked quietly into the hole, peering upward into the darkness. A grunting sound came from within. "Okay, baby," she responded, "but you have to promise me you'll come inside my pussy. Can you promise that? Can you?" Another grunt. Kat stood up and moved the chair towards the wall and, propping one foot up on it, bent over. As before, she reached between her legs and inserted him. She bounced against the wall for a few moments, then pushed all the way back. I could hear him pounding into her, then he groaned and stayed planted inside her. She moaned loudly and, again, hung her head to look between her legs. I craned my neck to see and saw a thread of semen, nearly a foot long, dangling from her matted pubic hair. When he pulled out a few seconds later, a small torrent let loose and squirted to the floor. Again, she went to her knees and cleaned him off with her mouth. Seconds after he disappeared, a new cock was pushed through the hole. Kat eagerly took it in her mouth. "I wanna feel those titties, bitch," came a muffled voice through the hole. Kat let the cock slide from her mouth and presented her breasts. I scarred-looking hand entered the hole and roughly groped her before latching onto a nipple and pinching hard. Kat squealed and squirmed, but didn't pull away. The hand disappeared. "Lick my asshole, whore" the voice commanded. A second later, hairy buttocks bulged through the gloryhole opening. Kat looked at me, blinking, then as if struck by some epiphany, turned and plunged her face into the mass of flesh in front of her. My cock was so hard I thought it was going to burst through my pants. I could hear the man in the next booth moaning and heard a noise to my left. I glanced over and saw a dimly lit face at the opposite gloryhole. Shortly after, an arm stretched through and began stroking Kat's ass. She jerked slightly, but left her face buried, then adjusted her stance slightly so that her knees were farther apart and her ass tilted upwards. The hand disappeared between her legs. The hairy ass disappeared. "Turn around, slut," ordered the voice. Kat stood and resumed her position with one foot on the chair and bent over. The arm on the other side grasped her breast. "You like eating ass?" the voice continued. "You like that your pretty face smells like sweat and shit?" Kat whimpered and moaned, reaching back through her legs for his cock, but it disappeared. "Spread your ass for me, whore," the voice growled. To my surprise, Kat complied without hesitation. I heard a spitting sound and the scarred hand reappeared and began fingering Kat's asshole. I stood on my toes to get a better look as first his middle finger, then two fingers penetrated her. He alternated between finger fucking her slowly and corkscrewing his fingers rapidly into her. The hand disappeared and was replaced by a cock. Kat didn't wait for any instructions and immediately sank her ass onto his cock. She pushed all the way back until her buttocks were resting against the wall. The gruff man brutally pistoned in and out of her, drawing tears, as she moaned and jerked the man opposite who'd previously contented himself with groping her. Several minutes passed and the man withdrew and ordered Kat to suck his cock. She turned around and got on her knees, taking him in her mouth. "Swallow it," he groaned. I watched as she took him in her throat and gagged. Her head popped back, and come rolled off of her tongue onto the floor. "Thanks, slut," the voice exhaled. A five dollar bill floated through the hole. Kat looked at it resting on the puddle of come near her feet, then picked it up and tossed it onto her coat. She turned back to the cock opposite and guided it into her pussy. A few minutes later, another unknown man's come filled her pussy while she jerked on a new cock that had appeared at the opposite wall. More than thirty minutes passed before I thought to check my watch. Every few minutes new cock replaced spent cock. By my count, Kat had serviced 19 times and there were no signs of stopping. Since there were only seven men in the store when we'd arrived, I was curious if it was just some having a second go. I undid the latch on the door and poked my head out into the hallway. There was a line stretching into the aisle with at least ten men I could see. "Jesus," I mumbled. "Where did they all come from?" The nearest man whispered. "Billy. You know...the owner? He sends out a group text when something like this happens." He grinned and added, "It's been a while." I was startled that he'd responded. "How many are in on this group text?" "I don't know," he whispered. "There's about ten in the group I'm in." "There's more than one group?" "Well, if there's only ten in a text group and thirty show up, there must be more than one group. I mean, you knew to come here because of texts, right? Billy's said before he has about 90 regulars to 'take care of.' It's how he stays in business." Suddenly my ears burned and ringing started. I steadied my strangely rubbery knees against the door. "Well," I managed to stumble, "let the others know she needs to take a break. She's been going for more than half an hour straight." "I'll pass the word, but if she didn't know there was more than one group, she sure fucked up." I closed the door just as another man finished in Kat. She slumped onto the chair and gave a weak laugh. "There's so much coming out of me I feel like I'm going to stick to the chair," she joked. "Are you ready to call it a night or do you want to keep on going?" She looked at me almost apologetically. "I want more...but I don't know that I can handle it. I'm already a little sore." The bright red lipstick was gone. Her hair had come loose from the tight bun she'd painstakingly put up. Her right breast was bright pink and looked a little swollen. She sighed. "Are there any left?" "Yep." "How many?" "Ten." "Ten?!?" "At least." "At least? Where? How?" "The next guy in line told me the owner texts customers to let them know. He said there might be ninety." "I...I can't...I just can't..." Her voice trailed off, then a look of calm descended. "I--" "Hey," interrupted a voice I recognized as the man I'd spoken to, "if you're gonna quit, can I at least have my turn? I mean, I'm already here and I've been waitin' a while. I ain't never fucked anyone pretty as you." Kat looked at me, exasperated, but stood up and, replacing her foot on the chair, bent over. "Thank you," came the voice from the other side. She winced when the man plunged into her, but the moaning began anew a few seconds later and she shuddered when he groaned and came inside her. Another cock appeared opposite and she instinctively reached for it. She moaned as another cock filled her from the rear. An hour passed before the voids remained vacant for more than thirty seconds. "I...I don't know why I...I don't...I don't know," she mumbled, breathing heavily as she slouched in the chair. Twenty-seven more new cocks had appeared in the last hour. "Now's our time to escape, I think," I muttered. Until five minutes earlier, she'd been fucking almost non-stop for over an hour and had fucked 46 unknown men. She'd had no time to process what had just happened and looked completely physically exhausted. I undid the latch on the door and poked my head out. I saw no one. I grabbed Kat's coat and the monopod without putting the camera away. We needed to move fast, I thought. "Stand up," I urged. "Come on, Kat. Stand up. Let's go. There's no one else out there." "Okay," she said, somewhat distantly. Her knees wobbled as she stood, but she braced herself against the doorway. I slung the coat around her and guided her through the door. As the door swung wide and light penetrated fully into the video booth, she glanced back. The floor was covered with come and other bodily fluids. There were a handful of used condoms there, as well. She smiled wickedly, then turned and we headed for the exit. An overweight, balding man in a stained white t-shirt and black leather vest stood behind the counter. He grinned at us as we approached, a wide, yellow-toothed grin. "Leavin' so soon?" he drawled. To my surprise, Kat strode from me, shedding the coat to the floor and rounded the counter. The smile faded from the man's face, but quickly returned when she went to her knees in front of him, unzipped his pants, and stuffed him into her mouth like she was starving. Shocked, I shook my head to clear it and watched, mesmerized. The man looked over at me and grinned broader than before. He looked down at her as her head bobbed, then threw his head back. Kat abruptly stood, turned around, and braced herself against the corner. She wagged her ass back and forth. The counter man shook his head, then stepped up behind her. He ran his dick up and down her slit as she, moaning, stiffened and angled herself for easier access. He sank into her with a great, gape-mouthed look of victory on his face. "You didn't even ask me to wear a rubber," he teased as he plowed into her. "Must be on birth control, am I right?" Kat moaned. "Ain't you worried about diseases, girly? You must've fucked thirty or forty men tonight." Kat moaned louder. "Shit...what turned you on more? Bein' dirty for raw doggin'? Bein' dirty for gettin' with thirty men?" Kat moaned and he smiled so widely his eyes were nearly closed. "Or bein' dirty for raw doggin' thirty men?" Kat moaned loudly. "Oh, God, I'm coming!" She shuddered and dropped her head to the counter, her shoulders and arms flushing red. "Holy shit, girly! I can feel your cunt suckin' me in further!" With that profound proclamation, he gritted what was left of his teeth, thrust roughly into her a couple more times, then buried himself and grunted. When he was done and had slipped from her, Kat turned and went to her knees again, cleaning him off. "You sure do like dick," the man commented. "And come," responded Kat as she jammed her fingers into her twat and then licked them clean. She stood and returned to me, picking up her coat along the way. "Are you Billy?" "Yep." "Then I'll see you again," she declared, looking back, before heading for the exit. The man stood there, speechless, shaking his head. Billy motioned me over and we chatted for a moment about her relative lack of experience before the last three weeks. He told me to warn him before we returned--if we returned, I corrected him--so he could get more customers lined up. "Oh, she'll be back," he called after me. "I guarantee it." I shrugged and left. As I exited and a blast of cold November wind took my breath away, I was greeted by the sight of Kat, the tails of her coat pulled up and piled on her back, hands on the hood of some car, while another man fucked her from behind. I rested the monopod on the ground and pointed the camera toward them. The man looked over at me and grinned, then gave a big thumbs up. He slapped her ass a couple of times, mugging for the camcorder, then grimaced and came. Again, Kat went down and cleaned him off, then made a show of sticking her fingers in her cunt and licking them clean. The man hurried back to his car. I walked over to where she stood, her coat open, goosebumps raised across her entire body. "Ready? Let's get home and light a fire. It's freezing out here." I sounded considerably more normal than I felt. She nodded. ***** Kat slept all the way through Sunday, waking after midnight to eat something before returning to bed. On Monday, she called in sick and spent most of the day sleeping. It was the first time I'd ever known her to play hooky from work. On Tuesday, she called in sick again but was up and around by mid-afternoon. On Wednesday, she returned to work as normal. That weekend we stayed home. On Sunday, she watched Sunday Morning, ate half a salted grapefruit, then granola over honeyed Greek yogurt, and drank strong, black coffee. We went shopping at a nearby Randall's for our Thanksgiving groceries. Our sex life returned to normal. The night before Thanksgiving, she finally broke the silence. "How many men did I...how many men were there?" I looked at her, evaluating. "I've been trying to count them in my head, but I'm not sure." "I counted 48." She mouthed the number silently. "So now you're up to an even 60," I told her, guessing the math that was going on in her head. "A month ago you were at six." "It's...that's a little...difficult...for me to comprehend," she said quietly. "Are you sure?" "We can watch the video. It's about two hours long, I think." Despite her initial reticence, we spent the next two hours watching the video. The Canon had a great low-light processor, and only missed portions when the video from the monitor was especially bright. We counted together and totaled 46. Billy the store owner and the man in the parking lot made 48. Kat was almost clinical in her viewing, as if she were watching the video record of a research experiment. At the end of the video as she watched herself licking semen from her fingers, she grabbed my hand and shoved it down the front of her sweatpants. "Feel how wet I am!" she exclaimed, then, "Let's go back!" I called Billy to let him know. When we arrived that night, the store was packed. Instead of the gloryhole, Billy had cleared two shelves out and pulled a mattress to the center of the shop. She'd wanted to maintain some measure of public anonymity, so she wore a mask, knowing there would almost assuredly be souvenir photos and video. That night Kat took on 77 men. Several times she serviced five at once, when the men were adventurous enough. I recorded the whole thing. She wanted to know who had been with her the last time and who was new. Only 19 of the original men had returned. "That's a hundred and eighteen," she said, as she slouched in the front seat. "Never in my life did I think I'd sleep with eighteen different men, much less a hundred and eighteen different men." By the look on her face, I knew she wasn't stopping there. We pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. Kat Fucked Up Pt. 04 Katherine becomes a gangbang "professional." I sat in the darkness and watched Kat snooze on a tiny cushion in a 10-foot by 10-foot cage in the middle of a large, otherwise vacant warehouse. Her head was tucked into her arms to shield her from the single bright light overhead that bathed the cage completely and blinded her to anyone...or anything...in the darkness beyond. The bars were made of inch-thick stainless steel. The door opened with a skeleton key that appeared to be a hand-hammered. We'd found our way here through Billy. I still hadn't wrapped my head around it. When we'd started this impossible journey, Kat had five partners before me. Now, barely a year later, she was well over five hundred...and had done things I'd never thought of, much less thought possible. After her initial gloryhole experience and subsequent encore gangbang, Kat and I returned to Billy's seedy little adult bookstore on Highway 71 three times over the ensuing six months. With Billy working his text groups, the private Subreddits, and older forms of anonymous communication, like Internet Relay Chat, each of her appearances attracted a progressively growing number of participants and a number of others who wanted to gawk or make a digital memento. It didn't take long for me to discover how an outdated business like Billy's continued to operate. When we returned for Kat's second gangbang, I overheard a few people quietly discussing the Bitcoins they'd transferred to Billy for the opportunity to participate merely as onlookers. "Adult Books" was a front for Billy to pass money through. I stopped short of seriously thinking about the other revenue streams Billy might be cleaning through the storefront. I was sure I didn't want to know. I didn't convey my knowledge or suspicions to her, but I did start to wonder in the middle of the third gangbang if Kat suspected Billy was charging for her appearances. While the vast majority of her anonymous lovers never said anything and a few were extremely, vulgarly vocal, it dawned on me that there were a few with whom she shared quiet conversations on the mattress. I hadn't asked, assuming it was merely attempts at a somewhat more private vulgarity, but noticed her staring at Billy while one of the 89 men from that night whispered in her ear. On our way home that night I'd tried, diplomatically, to get details of the conversation. "Oh, you know," she'd responded breathily. "Mostly, the quiet ones want me to come see them, take me to dinner, give me gifts, buy me things." She was quiet for a few beats, then added. "Give me money. Nice stuff. A few of the whisperers are truly perverted. One of them is telling me he wants to take pictures of me with his dog. He doesn't get more detailed than that, but he..." Her voice trailed off and the familiar vacant look on her face appeared. It meant she was somewhere in the recesses of her mind, overcome with her imagination. "Maybe they don't want the others to know how perverted they are," she finally offered, returning to the present. "Even among perverts I guess there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed publicly. I don't know." Mostly? "Give you money? But...," I stumbled, still examining her answer, "but that--" "--would make me a prostitute," she concluded, preventing my faux paus. "A whore. I'm already a slut. It's not that much of a leap." She shivered. "Really, though? Not phased by the pictures with--" "And you're--" "It's not like it's an original idea," Kat interrupted. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her examining me. I didn't turn my head to look but I knew she was smiling. "You mean--" "Prostitution is the oldest profession, I mean." She paused, then added, "Were you thinking of something else?" I drove in silence, still processing. "Would it be so bad?" she asked. "Right now I'm fucking them for free. At least, I'm not charging anything." She suspects what I suspect. "Would it bother you?" she went on. "Having a prostitute for a girlfriend?" I didn't answer. "Of course it wouldn't," Kat continued. "It doesn't bother you to have a slut for a girlfriend. You didn't mind sharing me with anyone who wandered into an alley. Or an adult bookstore. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. Having the men pay to fuck me? Anyway, I don't want to wait two more months to go back. How many did I fuck tonight?" The emphasis wasn't lost on me. "I don't know," I mumbled, my head still swimming. "Bullshit," she said quietly. "How many? You always keep count." "Eighty-nine tonight. Eighty you've never seen before." "Are you sure?" "Yeah. I know faces." "Wow. So that's...254. I only need 46 to get to 300. We could make our own movie called '300,'" she giggled. "You got it all on video, right?" I nodded. The casual way she discussed it was a bit disconcerting. It had been exciting originally, but now...now it was almost monstrous. Long gone were the days when she thought having slept with five different men made her a slut. "Arrange it with Billy. Sometime soon." "Why don't we just show up? Like we did the first time?" "Because there's no one there unless they know I'm going to be there. It would take months to get 46 more." "Are you serious about the 300 thing?" Kat laughed. "Of course not." She looked out the window and pulled her legs up snug against her naked chest. "I'm thinking more like three thousand. And I want to talk to Billy before I spread my legs next time." ***** In the past, the "client" told me, this warehouse--one of three on the property--had been used for all manner of genuine work, though he had always reserved a portion of it to 'interview' special women who were referred to him. A contractor supplier had leased the entire property from him once upon a time until the market for new homes in Austin had crashed in the mid-2000s. They stored scaffolding, machinery, generators, pre-fabricated offices, and everything else under the sun that might be needed at a construction site, enough to fill up all three warehouses, and ran extensive support operations, including a welding and metal fabrication shop for customers with specialized needs. The in-house welder, a frequent participant in the "client's" 'interviews,' had constructed the cage for him. "There was another," the "client" said cryptically, "for whom I'd originally intended The Cage. Her interview was...astonishing. Perhaps you'll see it one day. She attended my parties for a brief period of time but, by coincidence, I was alerted by a common acquaintance that her father was a high-ranking government official and worked in the intelligence community. Attention I didn't need." He paused, a slight smile on his face as he visited fond memories. "As chance would have it," he continued, "she introduced me to one of her friends, a transcendently beautiful woman on the cusp of extraordinary fame. She, however, disappeared to Costa Rica before we could interview her and her attitude changed when she finally returned." He paused as if reflecting on what might have been. "So The Cage sat in a corner, an afterthought hidden by all kind of I don't know what, until a few years ago when my tenant likewise disappeared." "I've had other tenants," he explained as he walked with me around the property on my inaugural visit, "but the warehouse has remained largely unused by them. I no longer include it in new leases. Simpler that way. I can use The Cage without worry of interruption and I can conduct my interviews in peace." He stopped abruptly. "Speaking of," he said, turning to face me. "She'll have to be interviewed, of course. I assume that's something you can stomach. You know of my interviews? No matter what they say in the beginning, no matter how coy they pretend to be, or standoff-ish, or prudish, they always end up fucking. Is that something you can watch? Or...take part in?" "You have no idea," I told him. "So I've heard." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as if he was failing to hide a grin. "I suspect it's in the back of every interviewee's mind before they get here, but relatively few appear for their interviews consciously knowing that actual sex will be involved. Does she suspect?" "She does. Billy said you would want to talk to her about her sex life. He didn't know exactly. At least that's what he said." "Billy has never been to one of my interviews. Or to my home, for that matter, where I host interview watch parties. I don't find Billy to be tasteful company. So he told you the truth. Billy is not the kind of service provider I want involved in my immediate circle. He's only interested in the fiscal perspective rather than the artistic or prurient opportunity. Did he tell you anything else?" "He said he thought it probably involved a sexual performance, like a striptease or something similar." "'A sexual performance like a striptease,'" the "client" repeated. "Did you know Billy's name is actually 'Billy' and not 'William?' Could you imagine having--'" "Why are you called The Client?" I interjected awkwardly. "I would have thought something more..." "More like 'the boss' or 'el jefe?'" There was a small amount of disdain underlying his question. "Yes." "Because certain persons provide me the very special service of finding me an interviewee. To them, I am 'the client.' But all professionals know that 'the client' is the true boss." He extended his hand. I shook it. "We have one more engagement before she can be interviewed," I told him. "Of course," he said, reaching into his suit jacket and producing a business card. I examined it and saw there was no information other than a phone number. "Call the number on that card for scheduling," the "client" continued. "Just remember--short skirt, white panties, white thigh-high stockings, and a white button-down shirt with no bra. I prefer pleated skirts. Solids are better than patterns, but plaids are acceptable. Stockings should be plain. Lace at the top is acceptable, but no fishnets and no stripes. Get a cheap dress shirt. The cheap ones are virtually see-through. Broadcloth works best. Oxfords don't work as well." "No problem. I think she has all of those things already." "No penetrative sexual intercourse--vaginal or anal--in the three days preceding. Make sure she is clean, inside and out. Does she know how to use an enema?" "Yes. I installed a hose in the shower." He looked genuinely surprised. "Perfect. I look forward to talking to her about her--what did you call them?--'engagements.' Oh...one more thing. I have to warn you, that you will be stopped if you attempt to interrupt or intervene in any way. We normally don't allow...others...but you seem to warrant an exception." "You're not going to hurt her." I was secretly delighted that my statement came across as a clear statement and not an idle, Hollywoodish threat. "Of course not, but you may see things you've never seen before. That tends to alarm some." "I doubt there's much you could do to her that I haven't already seen." He smiled broadly. His perfectly white, straight teeth gave him a ghoulish appearance. ***** Just as she had on the two previous occasions, Kat had stripped naked at the house and climbed into the car. She was already so aroused that the upper part of her inner thighs glistened with her moisture. I picked up my keys from the counter and noticed she'd left her mask there. I picked it up. "Forgetting something?" I asked as I tossed it into her lap and she was drying her legs. "Nope," she replied. "I'm going without." I tried to act calm. "And what if your co-workers happen to see you in a video or picture on Reddit or somewhere else?" "The odds are against that happening. They'd have to be exploring the seedy underbelly of the Internet. It's unlikely. And if they are...then I should be meeting them, not hiding from them." "'Seedy underbelly.' We've seen pictures and video of you all over Reddit--Gone Wild, Gone Wild Cumsluts, Creampies, Gangbangs--you name it. And on Pornhub and Xvideos." "Well, you got those taken down, didn't you? And people who show up know that the videos and pictures they take are private only or they won't be allowed back." "Once they're out there, that's it. There's really no unringing that bell." "It doesn't matter," Kat said matter-of-factly. "I don't have tattoos. I don't have any scars or birthmarks. The mask covers so much of my face you can't even tell what color my eyes are or what shape my nose is. I wear baggy clothes to work, and my hair is always up. None of them would realize it was me, even if someone who participated told them." "And if the commissioner finds out? You don't think he'll fire you?" "He'd probably want to join in. He's an old perv." "He's a conservative Christian politician." "And...that changes what?" We drove in silence for a bit. I knew I sounded doubtful and annoyed. It had been so exciting at first that I couldn't honestly say there was a little annoying voice of protest somewhere. But now... "What arouses you about this? The numbers? The anonymity? One night stands? Sex with strangers? The exhibitionism? What is it?" "Same as you--all of it. I like--no, I love acting slutty. I love being slutty. Being a slut is what arouses me. And being an extreme slut arouses me even more. The riskier, the better. The dirtier, the better. I realized it when we were talking last year. Remember? I told you about Kent and Patrick. I realized then. Only a slut has multiple threesomes and lets a virtual stranger fuck her ass bareback. Only a slut would cuckold her longtime boyfriend, especially over and over and over. "I said something like, 'Maybe I'm a slut.' I mean, I knew it right at that moment. And when you talked about me being with other men--lots of other men--and I was so turned on...I came instantly. Now I've come to realize it's not just multiple men. It's anything slutty. The more extreme, the better. Gloryholes. Anonymous partners. Unprotected sex. Sex in front of others. Having literally dozens of men come in my pussy or my ass. "I have to admit I was completely dubious about the gloryhole idea at first, but that wore off the more I thought about it. Then I went and checked out some videos and I started to get excited. Small, dark room with porn on a cheap TV and cocks randomly poking through holes in the wall. Then when we were there, I couldn't contain my disappointment at the sparse crowd or that long wait for my first encounter...my first...my first customer." She said it like she was trying it on for size. I let it pass. "There's not much more extreme you can go beyond what you've been doing," I told her. "These are bona fide fetishes." "This is nothing. I've been lurking on 4Chan and a few of the quarantined subreddits. There are a lot of things that are more extreme." "By a degree?" I lightly argued. "Well...let's start with tonight. I stopped taking the pill in the middle of the cycle this month. Right after the last event." It didn't immediately register in my head, but it was one of those bombshells that was felt before it was appreciated. "You...so you...that means--" "I'm going to let someone knock me up tonight. Impregnate me. Breed me. At least I'm going to have done nothing to stop it. And I'm going to make a big production of it. I'm going to announce to everyone that they have to use condoms because my prescription for the pill ran out and I haven't gone back to get another. "Then when the first one is fucking me I'm going to make him stop," Kat continued. "I'm going to yank off his condom and toss it to the side, and I'm going to announce that it just doesn't feel as good knowing they aren't filling me with their come." My stomach sank as my cock jumped. "It's quite possibly the sluttiest thing I can think of. I mean, there are far more perverted or kinky things I could do and--let's be completely candid--I'm going to do them, but this is the most wanton, whorish behavior imaginable. I love fucking so much and I love being a slut so much that I'm willing to spread my legs for dozens and dozens of anonymous someones I'll never see again and let them stab their cocks into my dripping wet pussy and come deep inside me, soaking my womb and filling me up." She relaxed and rested her head against the headrest. Her feet went up to the dashboard. A few seconds later she proclaimed, "Jesus, I didn't think I could get any wetter, but I'm almost gushing. This might be my new favorite fantasy." She shivered and the highway light intermittently revealed her fingers dancing around between her legs. "Can you imagine what tonight is going to be like?" she continued, still exploring her sloppy hole. "Knowing that any one of the hundred men between my legs could be the one whose sperm wins the jackpot? I've heard that women sometimes feel a twinge or a pinch in the abdomen when it happens." "This is...you're okay with this?" I asked, sounding vastly calmer than I felt. "Absolutely." "What about the...I mean what are you going to do after?" "I don't know. I'll--I don't know. Maybe I'll keep it." Out of the corner of my eye I saw her glance over at me. "You're going to...going to go all the way through with it?" "Definitely." "How...what are finances supposed to look like on this?" "You're the oddest combination of practical and impractical I've ever known," Kat frowned. "That's why I wanted to talk to Billy tonight. It's going to pay for itself." "Even if Billy agrees," I warned her, "you're pretty much limited to whatever money you can get out of him tonight. How much could that possibly be?" "Last time one of the guys told me it was a hundred to fuck and fifty to watch," she said quietly. "Kat, if he charges these guys a hundred dollars each to participate and half that to watch, you're only talking about ten or fifteen thousand dollars. Even if he gave you all of it, which he won't, that's not enough to pay for maternity, much less a child." She looked at me like I'd just farted. "I plan to keep fucking doing this," she said, unable to hide her disbelief at my idiocy. "You can film it. You can sell the videos. Amateur-looking stuff is where it's at these days! As long as we get paid, I'm going to fuck anyone, anytime, anywhere, any way. There's nothing I won't be open to, at least once. I can't believe I denied myself for so long! I'm--" "So I'm still in the picture?" I frowned at the odd-sounding mixture of desperation and disdain. "Of course, baby!" she squeaked, managing to sound like an empathetic tart. "All the way! You're the Golden Hero that set me free!" As she babbled on about her plans, I wasn't sure if the relief I felt was 'boyfriend' relief or relief that my perverted fantasies would continue to unfold before my eyes. "...even when I'm ready to pop. Don't you think it would be sexy to see a huge pregnant woman, her breasts engorged, maybe leaking or even spraying milk all over the place, ready to drop at any moment...fucking and taking a load of come? Or, even better, taking on anyone who wants to fuck and letting them all come inside her? I mean," she continued excitedly, "she knows she can't get pregnant, but she loves fucking and loves come so much that she wants them all to give her their come! How fucking hot is that?" Kat reached over and stroked my crotch. "Obviously you think something is hot. You know what? Pull over when you have the chance. I need you inside me. I want you to come as deep in my pussy as you can. We're way early and we're still 45 minutes away from Billy's. It's going to be a long night. I'm going to give your sperm a head start." ***** A door opened somewhere behind me. I was expecting The Client again, but couldn't tear my eyes from her to confirm. If she heard the door, she didn't stir. "How is she?" came The Client's voice over my shoulder. "Sleeping," I replied without turning to look at him. "Other than from breathing, she's barely moved in the last two hours." "Amazing. I've only ever known one interviewee before Miss Turner who was able to take my entire length." "The one The Cage was intended for?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. "Correct. How did she feel...after?" "We didn't exactly talk. I--" "No," The Client interrupted. "I mean, how did her vagina feel to you? Different?" I shook my head. "Same. Slicker, if anything. Maybe. Sorry to disappoint." "On the contrary. I'm pleased, not disappointed. Quite pleased. Even the original interviewee The Cage was intended for felt, to put it diplomatically, more accommodating after the first time. Miss Turner has exceeded my expectations. In fact," he added, "there's something special I've tried with several other interviewees but all were disappointments in one way or another. Interested?" "It depends," I ventured. "I know Kat. She won't want to continue to do this for free. She has plans. If she keeps coming here, she'll likely want to be financially compensated for the time she's missing from otherwise more pecuniarily-friendly activities." "How does ten thousand dollars sound?" "Given your cryptic description, it sounds like it's not enough. She makes that in a night at Billy's." "You mistake me," The Client responded with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm offering ten thousand dollars for every night she's in the warehouse. Cash. Or wired to an offshore account in the Bahamas or the Cayman Islands, if you wish me to set one up for you. I have no loyalty to Billy. Until Miss Turner, he'd only ever sent me potential interviewees who didn't make it through the pre-screen, and it's my understanding he didn't truly refer you so much as you found your way to me through him." "We need his network," I argued. "I do not; therefore, you do not. If it makes you feel better, we can provide some limited compensation to him out of the proceeds of your continuing activities here." "Billy likely pocketed nearly fifty thousand dollars from hosting Kat's events without saying a word to Kat or I and that likely would have kept on going as long as we were oblivious," I told the "client" somewhat bitterly. "I have no loyalty to Billy either." "Then it's settled. Aside from that, I'll agree that you can continue to film and I won't ask for remuneration, only access to Miss Turner on reasonable notice for anything I want and your agreement not to film me or disclose my identity. I'll even have a crew come in to build a soundstage and moveable set pieces. They can make the far southwest corner--the corner to our left--look and feel like an apartment or home. That corner also has plumbing stub outs. We'll even make the washroom accommodations more comfortable. "Of course," The Client continued, "you're welcome to film anywhere in the warehouse, and I'll provide you with carded access. Come and go as you want, whenever you want as long as you don't disrupt anything that's already going on here. That courtesy extends to my current tenants as well. Please do not disrupt their businesses." I nodded. "I'll talk it over with her, but she may want more than ten thousand dollars for 'anything' you want." "For special or particularly...strenuous activities, I'd expect that she and you would want to know substantially more before agreeing. Why don't we limit 'anything' to activities reasonably similar to those she's already been engaging in? As for special activities, we can discuss those opportunities as they arise." "I'll talk to her, but that satisfies me." I was too tired to act or speak with any emotion. I assume The Client mistook it for calculated negotiation. "Wonderful. May I treat you to breakfast? I'll have my driver pull around to the loading dock." "Is it actually breakfast time?" I asked, sounding confused. "Close enough," he replied simply. I could hear the smile on The Client's face. "It's almost seven." "I didn't realize we'd been here for nine hours. I'm famished. I imagine Kat is, as well." "I've made arrangements for her," The Client gleefully responded, "though I imagine she'll be asleep for quite some time, given her degree of exertion." I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Come. We can discuss details and some of my more general ideas." ***** Despite our detour, Kat and I arrived at Billy's nearly two hours early. True to her word, Kat had climbed into the backseat and kept her pelvis tilted upwards for the entire 45 minute drive to let my come soak her womb before the night's events. She'd giggled and joked with me how difficult it was to keep that much come inside her. When we arrived, the parking lot was empty aside from Billy's shit-brown 1977 Dodge. Kat used a tissue to do light clean-up, then jumped out of the car, and strode confidently into Adult Books. The conversation wasn't pretty. While Kat argued calmly and confidently, Billy was red-faced and shouted obscenities and accusations. Kat only lost her cool once, when Billy threatened to expose her across social media and call her boss, whose identity he'd discovered thanks to the Texas Tribune. Kat shut him down swiftly and coldly, telling him none of that mattered because we'd already decided on a career change for her, and hammering her point home by asking him if he'd noticed she wasn't wearing a mask this time. Ultimately, Billy softened his stance when Kat told him she wasn't after anything he'd received from her appearances before and their arrangement could continue indefinitely as long as he agreed to split the proceeds evenly from each event going forward. She was after all, she told him, the one spending six to seven hours on her back. Billy told us he figured she could only do this for so long before she got bored or the crowd did. "Every ice cream turns into vanilla if you eat it every night," he quipped, attempting to make light of his seriously-altered position. Since some of the men had informed Kat, she knew exactly what Billy was charging and told him she would know if he was shortchanging her. He agreed to pay her portion in cash, in advance, with overages paid afterwards, then disappeared into the management office only to emerge a few moments later with a bundle of hundred dollar bills. "You can count it," he said, "but those are bank fresh. That's eleven thousand dollars." We maintained our poker faces but a look passed between us. "I got a hundred and fifty, give or take, coming this weekend in ten groups of a dozen or so each to participate, and another hundred or so in ten roughly equal groups to watch. If any of those elevate to participation, they'll pay cash. We'll settle up at the end of the night." Billy gave us his office to lounge in while we waited for the men to start arriving. Since the negotiations with Billy took considerably less time than we expected, Kat decided she wanted to give my sperm a second head start. As I had earlier, I came deep inside her though not in nearly the same quantity as before and, as she had earlier, she lay down on the disgusting brown-and-orange couch and kept her pelvis tilted upwards until it was time to greet her customers. She again lightly cleaned up. As promised, Kat announced to everyone that she was no longer on birth control, demanded condoms, and, in the middle of her first tryst, discarded the condom and announced that it didn't feel the same, "consequences be damned." Some men mildly protested, but Kat ultimately serviced 139 men over that weekend with all injecting her fertile womb with their seed. Even with copious amounts of super-slick lube, she was sore and exhausted after a hundred. After the last one left and Kat had cleaned up, Billy insisted on a turn. He ordered her around and, in great contrast to her arrival, she obeyed immediately and without question, doing everything he demanded including rimming his ass. Instead of coming inside her, he made her lay on the floor and prop her pelvis up. He demanded that she hold herself open while he jerked off into her open pussy. "I want you to see how much there is," he grunted, and grinned as she watched wide-eyed as rope after thick, viscous rope squirted into her gaping pussy. She shuddered as he used the head of his cock to push any stray drops into her opening. When she announced she needed to clean herself up again, Billy ordered her to leave it in and not clean up. "I heard you talking in the office before we got started," he sneered. "I want you to ride home in the backseat all tilted up like you said and go to sleep like that. Leave it in there until it leaks out on its own. I'm potent as all hell. I got ten among four exes, plus eight bastards. I'd bet you all the money I've made off of you that you'll end up with my ninth bastard." To my surprise, Kat clamped her hand over herself and stumbled into the parking lot. We turned onto Highway 71 as the sun was coming up, with Kat fast asleep in the backseat, a travel pillow under her rear and her pelvis tilted upward, her hand still firmly clamped over her pussy.