House Slut - S01 E91

Story 1 day ago

House Slut - S01 E91

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 91

The First Circles



Sam and Tegan wove through the party. The room they were in, which seemed to be an old ballroom, reminded Tegan of the last party she had attended. She wondered how many old manses in the area were outfitted like this. She guessed there had to be at least forty guests present, though as she had noticed earlier it was mostly men. Including herself she estimated there were no more than six women, suggesting that by even the most conservative estimate Tegan was going to enjoy the company of five strangers tonight. She hoped enjoy was the right word. The party she’d been paid to attend had had structure, and rules, and limits. From what Sam had told her she could walk away at any time but that still didn’t tell her exactly what to expect.

Occasionally a cluster of chatting men would turn their attention to Tegan on Sam’s arm and they would make polite small talk but Tegan wondered if they were undressing her with their eyes behind their small red masks, mentally making a note of her for later. Occasionally someone would ask Sam who Tegan was and he would introduce Tegan as his close friend. One particularly forward man reached under the short skirt of Tegan’s dress and briefly squeezed her bare ass, which she acknowledged with nothing but a coy smile in his direction before her and Sam moved on. They met another couple who claimed to be husband and wife, though the man was eager to profess that for tonight she would belong to everyone. After making conversation with a few people and finding them friendly and easy-going, Tegan began to feel more relaxed.

Around twenty minutes after their arrival there was a clinking sound of someone rapping a knife against a glass that cut through the murmurs of conversation and everyone settled into silence. A man, not really distinct from anyone else in the room in terms of his attire, spoke with the assistance of a lapel microphone that broadcast his voice to concealed speakers around the room. He spoke gently but to Tegan he might as well have been standing right next to her.

“Ladies and gents, or rather I should say, angels and devils.” He paused for the polite chuckle that rippled through the crowd “We thank you all for your presence this evening, especially those of you that have brought sacrifices.” He paused again to raise his glass in salute and a few glasses raised in response.

“Now, we will proceed with the evening’s events. You have all been welcome to be present in the first circle, which we call Limbo. You may at this time be undecided as to whether you will begin your descent, or if you will turn away: we require that you make that decision now. Anyone who does not wish to proceed, we would ask that you leave the room. There is a small bar in the adjacent room where you are welcome to enjoy some drinks and canapes, and make conversation, but sadly if you make that decision you will be unable to return.”

The speaker took a long pause and the people in the crowd looked around, seeing if anyone was going to make a move. Tegan glanced up at Sam, her stomach giving a twist of nervousness, or perhaps excitement. She had conflated the two so much recently that it could be a mix of both. Sam looked down at her though she didn’t sense any doubt in his eyes that she intended to stay, and that strengthened her resolve.

When no one moved the speaker continued.

“Excellent. We have quite the crowd this evening. The ceremony is about to begin – sacrifices, gather in the centre of the room. Beyond this point, you will begin your slow descent through the circles. Your only escape back to the world of humanity and reason is Virgil, who can guide you back. By which I mean, that is the safeword. Otherwise, you will be dragged down… down… down… deeper into the pit, at the mercy of the demons that lurk there.” The speaker finished on an ominous, dramatic note, which made Tegan shiver despite its cheesiness. As he finished speaking his voice was replaced with what seemed like organ music that faded into the background noise but lingered on the edge of hearing. It wasn’t any piece Tegan recognised though she was no classical music. At her best guess some kind of fugue, though she was not sure she even knew what a fugue was.

With one last look at Sam she pulled away from him and wove through the crowd where a space had opened up in the centre of the room. She was joined by five other women all attired similarly to herself, white wraparound dresses and togas, faux wings of varying quality, halos quivering on stands that rose up from the wings or a headband of some kind. As they gathered in the centre the men pressed forward around them until they were closed in on all sides, a tight circle of around twenty or so men standing shoulder to shoulder with even more behind. Tegan stood with her back to the centre as did all the others, as they pressed together and faced the demons surrounding them. The speaker’s gentle, soothing voice came over the speakers, almost hypnotically blending with the organ music.

“In the second circle, Lust, those who give in to the sins of the flesh are tormented by being buffeted by the strong winds, as their unbridled passions cause them to drift endlessly.”

As he spoke the men closed in on the group of vulnerable women and their hands reached out and snatched them up. Tegan let out a cry of surprise as two men grabbed her by the dress and pulled at her roughly sending her stumbling into them and also tearing the fabric. As she was pulled out of the circle into the mass of men she felt hands wandering all over her, tugging at her clothing and the slip knots holding the garment in place. She was reminded almost immediately of her lack of undergarments as hands slid up her thighs towards her crotch and her small chest was exposed as the top half of her dress was pulled open. Her notional modesty was preserved by the loose belt cinched around her waist even though she could feel a hand cupping her bare slit, but someone tugged at that knot and her dress fell completely open leaving her bare. The hands continued to roam over her body, fingers closed over and tweaked her nipples which grew hard. Hands squeezed her modest tit-flesh and flat ass. Someone stripped her sandals from her and she involuntarily thrashed as they tickled the soles of her delicate feet. Fingers stroked her face and she seized up as she fear they were going to divest her of her mask, her notional anonymity, but they did not – apparently that was still sacrosanct.

She realised that as they groped and caressed and touched and pulled her the men were gradually shedding their own clothing. The arms manhandling her became bare and she felt someone’s bare chest pressing against her back. Bare legs and a half-erect cock brushed her thigh. She didn’t have a lot of time to get her bearings as she was kept continuously off-balance but she was reasonably certain none of the men were Sam, who was presumably off participating in this theatrical ritual with one of the other sacrifices. As she felt fingers probing her slit and spreading her lower lips she impulsively reached out to try to grasp one of the swelling members surrounding her but her arms were pushed away. Her arms were pulled up above her and her wrists held in strong hand, stretching and elongating her slim body. The hands of the other men ran down her body, tickling her arms and exposed armpits, her small breasts and toned stomach, her thighs and calves. She was shivering not just from bring tickled and touched but from excitement. She turned her head side to side, trying to see if the other women were being subjected to similar torture but her diminutive stature compared to the press of men around her made it impossible to tell. For now, she was isolated and outnumbered. She felt a mouth envelop one of her nipples and suck, a tongue dancing around her areola. She could feel the erection of a man pressing into her back as a man held her by the hips and kissed her neck from behind. A finger slid between her lower lips and found her wet hole, sliding easily inside. She went weak at the knees but the hands and bodies pressing in on her made it impossible to fall. Someone pushed their thumb into her mouth and she sucked it hungrily. They continued to stroke and caress and grope every inch of her until no inch of skin, no crevice on her body remained unmolested.



“In the third circle, we find the Gluttons. The ones who gave over to temptation and indulged in their vices to excess.” The speaker’s voice soothingly cut in among the notes of the music, enticing. Tegan was lain down across what seemed to be a kind of table. She didn’t know where it had come from. There was a pillow in the small of her back which made her back arch, her thighs hanging off one end and her head dangling from the others. Her wrists were bound with what felt like some piece of cloth as it was cinched tight, her hands resting on her stomach. Her ankles were held by strong hands, keeping her legs apart. She could feel someone between her thighs and realised she was straddling someone’s head when she felt a mouth press against her and a tongue probe between her labia, tentatively tasting her. She let out an appreciative moan in response as hands holding her down continued to caress her skin and grope her chest.