Lorenzo Marks' Deviant Tales
Lorenzo Marks'Deviant Tales 

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Annabel and Mr. Nash


© Lorenzo Marks 2014-2020. All rights reserved. Not for sale.









Chapter Eighty One


“There!” Mrs. Craddock chuckled. “That looks much better!”


Annabel stared at her new hairstyle in the mirror and nearly burst into tears. Her beautiful red tresses were gone! She had worn her hair long for as far back as she could remember, and its luster and rich quality had always been a source of both admiration and envy amongst her peers. But now in its place was a plain, frumpy bob, which Mrs. Craddock had – quite deliberately – hacked away at so badly that all the ends were at different lengths, making it obvious that it was a homemade haircut!


Over the past couple of months, Nash and his accomplices had systematically taken away Annabel’s dignity and pride, possessed her body in every conceivable way, and had even reduced her to the status of a performing animal – but up until now, she had always had her lovely long hair as a reminder of her former life. Now they had taken that away too.


“What’s that miserable face for?” Mrs. Craddock said, stroking Annabel’s bare shoulder. “You are going to be a hired help now. We can’t have you presenting a hygiene risk in nice people’s homes, can we?”


To her chagrin and self-disgust, Annabel felt her nipples tightening as the old woman continued to caress her shoulder. The fact that she was as naked as the day she was born meant that she was unable to hide her unwanted arousal.


Mrs. Craddock moved around behind her, and ran her fingers through Annabel’s newly-shorn locks. “Well, I think you look very nice.”


Unexpectedly, she planted a kiss on the back of Annabel’s exposed neck, making her start, and causing goose bumps to spread along her arms. Annabel had spent many hours alone with Mrs. Craddock over the course of her confinement, and the old woman had often hinted at a less than healthy interest in Annabel’s body. She had grown quite accustomed to being naked in front of the strict housekeeper – often whilst enduring one of her many sadistic punishments – but she had never quite been able to get used to being touched by her. The problem was that her rebellious, sexually-supercharged body had other ideas!


To Annabel’s dismay, Mrs. Craddock slipped her hands under her armpits and then gently cupped her breasts. As the old lady took her swollen nipples between her fingers, Annabel couldn’t help emitting a little embarrassing moan of pleasure.


“You like that?” Mrs. Craddock crooned into her ear.


It was a difficult question to answer. Just as when she was forced to make love to Nash each night, Annabel was now torn apart by her utter revulsion at the old crone’s fondling, and the overpowering desire for sexual release that was building within her. Wretchedly, she knew from bitter experience that it was only a matter of time before her base animal instincts took over.


“Please stop!” Anabel whimpered.


“Come now, you don’t mean that, do you?”


Keeping her watery eyes on Annabel’s reflection, Mrs. Craddock moved her right hand lower down until her fingertips were tickling Annabel’s puffed-up labia.


Annabel’s hips jerked involuntarily as Mrs. Craddock deftly inserted a calloused finger into her pussy.


“No!” Annabel gasped. “Please don’t!”


She started to wriggle as Mrs. Craddock slowly moved her finger in and out of her cunt, and a tear of shame escaped her eye. The warmth was spreading through her belly and despairingly, Annabel knew she was on the brink of losing control. She could feel Mrs. Craddock’s thumb rotating on her clitoris now, and she let out a low groan and closed her eyes. But just when she was about to come, the old woman stopped her ministrations and abruptly removed her finger.


“Oh!” Annabel opened her eyes, and looked at Mrs. Craddock frantically.


“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Craddock said. “I thought you wanted me to stop?”


Annabel’s right hand automatically went to her crotch but Mrs. Craddock slapped it away. “No you don’t, you dirty girl! You know the house rules – no masturbating. If you want to come, you’ll have to ask somebody else to do it for you.”


Oh, you spiteful bitch! You can’t leave me in this condition!


Looking miserably down at her bare feet, Annabel drew a tremulous breath, and said, “Would you… please…?”


“Oh no, you had your chance. You’ll just have to cope.”  Mrs. Craddock smiled cruelly, then added. “Although if you ask nicely, maybe Mr. Nash will oblige.”


Despite the urgency of her situation, Annabel recoiled at the thought of begging the old lecher for sex. But what in God’s name was she going to do? She felt as though she was going to explode! There was no way she would be able to last the day like this!


In the event, Mrs. Craddock, as usual, made the decision for her. “Come along, follow me downstairs, and we’ll ask him.”






Chapter Eighty Two


Alastair Barclay sipped his tea impatiently. It was always the same whenever he visited Nash’s modest brownstone. Just knowing that he was about to participate in yet another installment of the continuing debasement of young Miss Annabel, put him into such a state of excitement that he could hardly sit still!


Alastair’s sadistic pleasure was heightened by the fact that he had both known and lusted after Annabel for many years as she had matured from a precocious child into a stunningly beautiful woman. As the head butler at Pemberton Hall, he had of course been obliged to keep his lustful desires private – compelled instead to relieve his frustrations with nightly jerk-off sessions in his bed whilst fantasizing about his young mistress.


Of course that had all changed dramatically over the past few months, and since Darius Nash had taken control of Annabel’s life, Alastair had enjoyed the delights of her body on numerous occasions – not to mention witnessing her undergoing the most humiliating and depraved sexual torments!


He glanced over at the man responsible for changing his life – as well as poor Annabel’s – with an ambivalent mixture of distaste and admiration. Despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, Nash clearly had no breeding, and mother nature had certainly not been kind regarding his physical appearance. And yet, beneath that unappealing exterior dwelt a strength of character and a dark magnetism that had enabled him to transform Annabel and her equally attractive black friend Alisha, from arrogant, independent young women into shamefaced sex objects. Even though they were acting under duress, bit by bit, Nash was insinuating himself as the ultimate authority in their lives.


In the latest development in her new life of servitude, Annabel was to be farmed out as a domestic to certain carefully selected clients. No doubt, Alastair mused, she would be performing far more than regular household duties, and he had no doubt that Nash would be charging handsomely for any ‘extra’ services that Annabel might be required to perform. Alastair had found out about this when, to his delight and surprise, Nash had asked him if he would be prepared to use his own Honda CR-V to ferry the hapless girl to and from her various destinations. In return, Alastair would receive a modest remuneration, but more importantly, as Annabel’s ‘chauffeur’, he would be allowed to attend and hopefully participate in her humiliating ordeals.


A rap on the living room door brought him back to the present, and the ugly old housekeeper, Mrs. Craddock, entered the room followed by Annabel – who was stark naked! Upon seeing Alastair, she wrapped an arm across her breasts, and placed her other hand over her crotch. Even after all he had seen and done with her, she remained as shy and embarrassed as ever. As the red-faced girl studiously examined the carpet, Alastair stared in amused surprise at her badly cut hair. She hadn’t worn her hair short since she was a small child, and he knew how vain she was about her long, flowing red locks. Yet another link with her former privileged life had been cruelly severed!


“I’m sorry to bother you,” Mrs. Craddock said, “but Annabel has a request.”


“Well, what is it?” Nash said haughtily.


“Annabel, go and stand in front of your master and tell him what you want,” Mrs. Craddock said.


Annabel shifted uneasily, her face growing even redder.


“Now!” Mrs. Craddock said, slapping her on the ass.


Annabel yelped and shuffled awkwardly into the center of the room. Still with her eyes averted, she said, “I… I want…”


“For goodness sake girl, spit it out!” Nash said.


“Annabel’s been playing with herself upstairs and now she’s all flustered,” Mrs. Craddock said, her words making Annabel squirm noticeably.


“Is this true?” Nash asked Annabel, who nodded her head imperceptibly.


“And now you want to come?”


Again, the slight nod of the head.


“You are a filthy little slut,” Nash said. “Well, if you want us to satisfy your carnal urges, you’re going to have to ask nicely.”


Her head bowed, Annabel mumbled, “Please will you…”


“No, not like that. Put your hands behind your head and look at us,” Nash said.


Slowly, Annabel adopted the humbling pose, and Alastair hungrily took in every inch of her firm, smooth body. Her pink nipples looked quite engorged and when he gazed at her shaven vulva, he noticed that her puffy labia were glistening with her love juice. Even though she was obviously dying with embarrassment, it was indeed evident that she had been worked up into an extreme state of arousal.


“Kneel on the floor,” Nash commanded.


Her eyes glistening, Annabel dropped to the carpet, keeping her hands behind her head. Watching her wobbling breasts, Alastair felt his cock stiffening.


“Now what do you have to say for yourself?” Nash said.


Her face an impossibly dark shade of crimson, Annabel said in a barely audible voice, “Please will you make me come, sir?”


Alastair gazed at the devastated girl, open mouthed. To be naked and kneeling, pleading for sex, in front of her former manservant, had to be humbling beyond words.


Nash checked his watch and looked at Alastair. “You don’t have to take her to work until noon. Would you like to oblige?”


Trying not to appear over eager, Alastair said, “I guess we have time.”


“Very well, but you know that self-stimulation is strictly forbidden, don’t you Annabel?”         


“Yes, sir,” Annabel whispered.


“So you will have to be punished. Do you agree?”


Annabel looked at him, apparently unable to reply, so Nash said, “Either you accept your punishment or you can go off to work all het up like that. It’s your choice. Do you agree to being disciplined for your wanton behavior?”


Annabel nodded miserably.


“I can’t hear you.”


“Yes, sir,” Annabel mumbled.


“Yes, what?”


“Yes, sir, I agree that I should be punished,” Annabel said, her moist eyes betraying her inner anger at being forced to concede that she was at fault.


“Okay then,” Nash said, raising himself out of his armchair. “Let’s go to the garage.”






Chapter Eighty Three


The garage-cum-torture dungeon was getting cooler now that summer was near its end, but Annabel’s rampaging body was on fire. As humiliating as it was to be standing naked in front of her three, fully-clothed, middle-aged tormenters, her need for release was overwhelming. She knew that when it was over, she would feel the full brunt of her self-loathing – but also that within a few hours she would be overcome with sexual desire once again. However he had achieved it, that cruel bastard Nash had managed to ensnare her in a vicious cycle of bodily craving followed by shameful remorse!


Now she watched as Mrs. Craddock bent down to unlock a vertical plank bolted down a few inches above the concrete floor. When she had been suspended by her breasts down here with Alisha, Annabel had had plenty of time to examine the new and sinister additions to the garage that Eddie Yeats had constructed – the wooden cage, the hanging ropes and chains, the horrid-looking headless rocking horse with its indecently attached rubber dildo – but the low wooden plank had always baffled her as to its purpose. Now she saw that it was separated down the middle and hinged, and when Mrs. Craddock swung it outward, four holes that had been bored into the center split in half.


“Step inside, Annabel,” Nash instructed.


Still confused, Annabel placed her bare ankles inside the two semi-circular openings as guided by Mrs. Craddock.


“Now bend over and put your hands on the floor,” Nash said.


Despite her extreme state of ardor, Annabel hesitated. Placing her wrists in the inner segments would mean bending double, and the holes had been set approximately three feet apart, meaning that her ass would be thrust out and her legs spread wide, gifting them all with a clear view of her spread pussy!


“Hurry up, girl!” Nash snapped. “We haven’t got all day, and you have work to do later!”


Hopelessly, Annabel bent forward as far as she could go, until her wrists were just outside her ankles. What was left of her hair hung down, as did her breasts, and between her spread thighs she could see the inverted faces of Nash and Barclay leering at her. When Mrs. Craddock pushed the outer segment back into place and slid the small metal bolt across, Annabel was firmly locked into her obscene and uncomfortable pose.


“Look at that dripping cunt,” Nash said. “The little whore is aching for it!”


Annabel closed her eyes.






The distraught and frustrated girl certainly did present a delectable picture as she bent her knees to accommodate her awkward and degrading posture. Alastair had seen stocks before, but never one that forced a person to bend over in such an obscene and disagreeable way! Nash was right about her pussy too – her stretched labia were swollen and moist, and there was even a damp patch surrounding her little button asshole.


“I got the idea from a history book about the persecution of medieval witches,” Nash said proudly. “It’s a variation on the pillory but as you can see, the victim is compelled to remain in a doubled-over position, which I should imagine would become quite excruciating after a while.”


 Alastair leaned forward for a closer look at Annabel’s upside-down face between her parted thighs, and although partially obscured by her hanging breasts, he could see that it was already a much deeper shade of red than before.


“Well?” Nash said to Alastair. “You’d better get on with it if Annabel’s not going to be late for her first job.”


Alastair would have preferred that Nash and Mrs. Craddock left the room, but by now he understood well that he was merely being used as a conduit for Annabel’s humiliation and suffering. What mattered the most was that she was demeaning herself in front of them, allowing them to closely study this most intimate of acts. If it hadn’t happened already, it would only be a matter of time before Nash and his cronies were familiar with every detail of Annabel’s private world – mentally, emotionally and physically. 


Wordlessly Alastair unzipped his fly and positioned himself behind the tormented girl. He pulled his underpants to one side and his cock sprang out, as rigid and proud as a teenager’s. Annabel always had this effect on him, no matter how many times he possessed her. It wasn’t just her physical beauty and sensational body that turned him on so, but also the depth of shame and self-hatred that she had to be feeling as she submitted to him.


As he guided his cockhead up against Annabel’s puffy labia, she jerked her ass, sliding her plump vaginal lips over his purple glans, which caused her to moan deeply. Beside them, Mrs. Craddock said, “If you want to come, you must do the work, Annabel. Now push back.”


As bizarre as it was to be once more copulating in front of spectators, Alastair treasured the moment as Annabel slowly impaled herself upon his member. Placing his hands on her haunches, he watched his cock slide into her body inch by inch, until his groin was flush against her soft buttocks. Keeping totally still, he allowed Annabel to grind against him, nudging her hot, sticky cunt back and forth in little thrusts along his shaft.


It look less than five minutes before she came, her body convulsing, and a high-pitched squeal rising up from below. As the velvety walls of her pussy contracted around his prick, Alastair too, breathed out a grunt of delight as he erupted inside her. They remained locked together while their orgasms receded before Alastair was brought back to earth by the sound of Mrs. Craddock’s voice.


“What do you have to say, Annabel?”


Breathing hard, Annabel said, “Thank you for fucking me, Mr. Alastair!”


Withdrawing his cock from her slick cunt, Alastair  knew how difficult that must have been to say. Yes, he had fucked her many times before, but in Annabel’s mind, he would always remain the humble manservant that she had grown up with, and he doubted that she would ever get remotely comfortable with their new and kinky sexual relationship.


“And now you need to be punished,” Mrs. Craddock said, retrieving a rattan cane from a rack on the wall.


Annabel’s thighs began to quiver as she heard the wicked instrument slicing through the air.


“Yes,” came her tremulous reply.


“Then ask politely.”


Dear Lord, Alastair thought. The old cow doesn’t give her a moment’s respite, does she?


“Plea… please punish me for being a dirty girl!” Annabel whined.


The first lash came unexpectedly, leaving a wicked, red welt across Annabel’s thrust-out buns.


“Aah!” Annabel shrieked, and even Alastair winced at the sound of the rattan biting into her soft flesh.


“What do you say?” Mrs. Craddock said.


“Thank… thank you for punishing me…eek!”


A second angry stripe appeared as Mrs. Craddock swished the cane viciously down again. With her wrists and ankles firmly secured in the wooden stocks, Annabel had no choice but to remain in position, her legs spread wide, her recently violated cunt on full display, and her tortured ass wriggling frantically from side to side.






Chapter Eighty Four


Turning his Honda CR-V into the wide leafy avenue that led to Helen’s parents’ house, Alastair noticed Annabel shift uneasily in her seat beside him. His pretty young charge had been silent for the duration of the trip – probably still inwardly squirming with abashment after her sex and punishment session in Nash’s ‘dungeon’.


After giving Annabel six painful strokes of the cane, Mrs. Craddock had instructed her to ask Nash for anal sex. Alastair had become aware over the past weeks that although her asshole was being regularly breached – both by middle-aged men’s cocks and also a variety of sex toys – it remained a painful and disgusting practice for her. To make the act even more degrading, Nash had placed the tip of his dick against her anus and ordered her to impale herself on it. With her wrists and ankles locked in place, the stricken girl had been forced to rotate her lovely round ass until she had successfully accommodated the entire length of Nash’s penis inside her rectum.


Alastair had watched in fascination as master and slave had remained locked obscenely together while Annabel had been forced to repeatedly thank him for violating her bunghole. After a good ten minutes of this humiliation, he had finally exploded inside her, after which Annabel had been ordered to plead for another six lashes across her ass cheeks. When her agonizing punishment had been administered, they had retired to the living room for another cup of tea, leaving Annabel in her bent-over position, naked and aching, her buttocks red and contused, and her cunt and ass filled with semen.


Now Alastair turned into Helen’s driveway and shut off the engine. Noting the look of alarm on Annabel’s sweet face, he said, “Yes, that’s right. You’re going to be working for your old friend Helen today.”


Aware that Annabel always suffered worst when being humiliated in front of her former peers, Nash had deliberately kept her in the dark as to her destination today – and from the look of panic in her eyes, the surprise had obviously had the intended effect.


With a little coaxing from Alastair, Annabel reluctantly got out of the car. It was quite extraordinary that even after all of the demeaning acts she had been forced to perform in front of her old chums, she was still terrified of facing them again.


In a way, Alastair supposed, this new subservient role was probably worse for her than the obscene sexual displays she had already enacted. Here she was, the former ‘lady of the manor’, waited on hand and foot her entire life, now being sent to work as a lowly skivvy for her old rival. No doubt, Helen would make her suffer every bit as much as Nash and Mrs. Craddock did – perhaps even more so.


Alastair rang the bell and turned to survey Annabel’s latest get-up. With the clear intention of making her an object of ridicule in front of her trendy former friends, Mrs. Craddock had dressed her in a plain gray frock that buttoned all the way up to her neck. The hem however, had been cut away as raggedly as her hair, stopping at the tops of her thighs. She was wearing white cotton panties which were just visible from behind, but, as was all too evident from the jutting outline of her nipples, no bra, and on her sockless feet were a pair of cheap plastic, buckle-down sandals. With her terrible haircut completing the effect, this once fashion-conscious heiress, would be the laughing stock – a fact which clearly wasn’t lost on Annabel, judging from her crimson cheeks and anxious, round eyes.


The door swung open and Helen said, “Ah, about time.”


Helen was dressed in a pair of powder blue shorts and a yellow shirt which she had tied up to reveal her flat midriff, and Alastair thought she looked absolutely radiant.


Pity she’s not another one of Nash’s victims, he mused. Then again, if the old bastard ever gets an opportunity, I have no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to ensnare her!


“Good afternoon, Miss Helen,” Alastair said, slotting neatly into his professional demeanor. “Your hired help is at your disposal for the rest of the day. Naturally, she will obey your every command – no matter what it might be.”


The implications of his words were not lost on Annabel, and he noticed that her legs were quivering. Helen gave her an amused look and said, “Good heavens, Annabel, whatever have you done to your hair?”


Almost cringing with embarrassment, Annabel merely stared at the floor.


“I understand that you’ll be joining us this afternoon, Barclay,” Helen said.


“As an observer, of course. If Annabel misbehaves in any way, I am to report it back to Darius who will arrange severe corrective measures for her.”


“Well, everybody is waiting on the patio,” Helen said chirpily. “Shall we?”

Now Annabel did look up, her ample chest undulating rapidly. It was amazing to Alastair that even after everything that had happened to her, Annabel still couldn’t get over her sense of abject shame every time she was publically degraded. By now she knew Josh and Trent on a very intimate level, and only a few weeks ago, they had looked on as she had performed naked for them, first as a show pony, and then as a collared dog! And yet, here she was trembling with fear at the thought of them seeing her in this demeaning get up!


They followed Helen through the house, but when she saw her old friends assembled on the back patio, Annabel froze in the French window. Alastair pinched the exposed lower half of one of her buttocks, making her jump.


“Come on,” he said, giving her light shove in the small of her back. “It’s show time.”





Chapter Eighty Five


Just as Annabel had dreaded, everyone was here – Trent, and Josh, who had already defiled her on two previous occasions, as well as Drew and Samantha, who had also borne witness to her humiliation at the pool party. The only missing member of the old gang was Alisha of course, who, unbeknown to the others, was now going through her own personal hell at Nash’s cruel hands. But worst of all, Bobby, her ex-boyfriend, was also present, and was now regarding her with an expression of sneering contempt.


Why is he here? Annabel moaned inwardly.


The last time she had been paraded like a performing animal in front of them at Eddie Yeats’ birthday party, Bobby hadn’t been there – which was understandable given the degrading level that the woman he had once loved had been reduced to. But today here he was, obviously with Helen’s blessing, a willing spectator to yet more of Annabel’s pain and degradation.


 Now of, course, since Nash had forced Annabel to dump him, Bobby had become Helen’s boyfriend. Seeing him now, Annabel felt a stab of jealousy, knowing that while she was forced to share ugly old Nash’s bed each night, Helen and Bobby had been dating like a smart, regular couple.


“Well, lookee here,” Josh smirked. “It’s Cinderella!”


Despite her best efforts, Annabel could feel her cheeks burning. She was becoming accustomed to being made to look and act like a moron, but to have to perform in front of her old friends again was, she knew, going to be another huge blow to her already-shattered self-esteem.


“Did you cut your hair yourself?” Samantha tittered.


Standing foolishly before them, it finally hit home just how far she had fallen. They were all studying her with a mixture of amusement and pity – the once proud Annabel whom they had all envied was now nothing more than their submissive plaything, and with a heavy heart she knew that they were going to get their pound of flesh today.


Helen, who was still standing beside her, reached across and pinched Annabel’s left nipple through her dress, causing her to flinch. “Dear me,” Helen said. “You’re all hard! Are you excited to be here?”


Because of her unwanted enhanced libido, Annabel could not dispute the fact that her nipples were indeed erect – Nash kept her in a constant state of arousal these days – and the way they were straining against her frock made it plain for all to see!


“Not wearing a bra either,” Helen noted. “Do you like showing off your titties in public?”


Blushing furiously, Annabel looked at her feet and shook her head.


“What’s that? We couldn’t hear you.”


“No,” Annabel mumbled.


Helen suddenly grabbed Annabel’s shorn hair and jerked her face upward. “You will address me as Mistress Helen from now on!” she snapped. “And that goes for everybody else here. It’s either ‘mistress’ or ‘master’, do you understand?”


“Ye… yes, Mistress Helen!” Annabel gasped.


“Good. Now I’ll ask you again. Do you like showing off your boobs?”


It was useless. There was only one answer that Helen was going to accept. Yet again, Annabel was going to have to collaborate in her own debasement.


Her eyes stinging, Annabel uttered, “Yes, Mistress Helen.”


“You see?” Helen announced to her keen audience. “I told you she’s always been a slut.”


Annabel bit her lower lip and tried not to make eye contact with any of them. Quite apart from the shame and despair that she was experiencing, to her horror, she suddenly needed to visit the bathroom. God forbid that she should wet herself in front of everybody now! While she was fretting over this, Helen produced a pair of scissors from her back pocket and brandished them in front of Annabel’s face.


“I see you’ve already made some crude adjustments to your frock,” Helen said, lifting up the ragged hem so that everyone could see Annabel’s white cotton panties. “So I’m sure you won’t mind if I make a couple more.”


It was as much as Annabel could do to keep her hands by her sides as Helen pulled the front of her dress out and then snipped a hole in it. As the material drew back into place, one of Annabel’s hardened teats poked out – much to the mirth of everyone watching.


Helen then repeated the procedure on the other side, so that now both of Annabel’s nipples were absurdly exposed. But Helen wasn’t done yet. Tugging on one of the openings again, she deftly worked the scissors around until the hole was a good five inches across. Then she pulled Annabel’s nipple, making her gasp, and worked her entire breast out into the open air. Helen quickly did the same to Annabel’s other breast, leaving them both bobbing comically free in the open air.


Trying to block her audience’s laughter, Annabel wondered how she was possibly going to be able to get through this afternoon. After months of abuse and torture at the hands of Nash and his cronies, it was still the public humiliation that hurt her the most.


“Now,” Helen said, “we need to do something about your ridiculous shoes. Take them off.”


Aware of her naked breasts hanging obscenely downward, Annabel bent and unbuckled the cheap plastic sandals as instructed. While she was doing this, Helen went over to the gravel pathway that encircled the house and scooped up a handful of small, sharp stones.


“This will help you to stay focused while you work,” Helen said, dropping several stones into each of the shoes. “Now you can put them back on again.”


Miserably, Annabel started to slip her right foot into its sandal, but Helen said, “Not that one. Put it into the left shoe.”


Somebody snickered, and Annabel briefly looked up at Helen, but knowing that Barclay was on hand to report any acts of disobedience, she despondently forced her right foot into the wrong shoe. It took some effort, and her toes were pinched painfully, but she finally managed to get it buckled up. After she had, with equal difficulty, succeeded in squeezing her left foot into the right shoe, Helen ordered her to straighten up. Now there was physical pain to add to her emotional hurt as the hard pieces of gravel bit into the soft, under flesh of her compacted feet.


“God, she looks so stupid,” Trent chuckled.


“Why don’t you try them out?” said Helen triumphantly. “Take a walk around the pool.”


Feeling their eyes boring into her, Annabel winced as she set of on her absurd and uncomfortable little journey. The shoes were so tight around her toes, that combined with the painful stabs of the stones, she could manage little more than a tentative hobble.


“Come on!” Helen called after her as she made her way awkwardly around the pool. “You’re moving like an old woman! We haven’t got all day!”


As terrible as this current ordeal already was, Annabel unexpectedly found herself thinking back to the last time she was here, when Nash had made her behave like a childish idiot, culminating in her stripping off her bikini in front of everyone, then being spanked, and finally submitting to that degrading ‘spit-roasting’ by Trent and Josh. On that occasion, everyone had been initially shocked at Annabel’s dramatic retardation. Now they were all well prepared for it, and were also evidently relishing the prospect of a long, and for Annabel, miserable afternoon.






Chapter Eighty Six


Helen watched in delight as her onetime rival shuffled around the pool, her red face etched in pain, and her large, wobbling breasts, ludicrously poking out of her dress. In all the years she had spent in Annabel’s shadow, she had never remotely dreamed that she could wield such power over the formerly stuck-up bitch. And boy, was she going to make the most of it!


She looked around at her friends who were all avidly following Annabel’s labored progress. Judging from their faces, this new-found power had conjured up similar sadistic urges. She had no doubt in her mind that, no matter how despicable the acts Annabel would be forced to perform today, nobody was going to object to them.


 Annabel finally completed her circuit of the pool and stood meekly before her tormentors. Unable to look any of them in the eye, she kept her clenched fists by her sides and stared at her comical footwear.


Helen reclined on the chaise-lounge next to Bobby and said, “You are going to have to work faster than that, you lazy girl. From now on, you will carry out your orders at the double. If you keep anybody waiting too long, you will suffer the consequences. Understood?”


Head down, Annabel nodded, and then remembered to utter, “Yes, Mistress Helen.”


“And you will always look at whoever you are addressing!” Helen barked.


Slowly, Annabel raised her face in Helen’s direction. Despite the deep servile conditioning she had received, there was no denying the slight glint of venom showing in her eyes. So much the better as far as Helen was concerned!


“Good,” Helen said. “Now come over here and kneel down beside me.”


Annabel nervously approached her ex-friend, and then gingerly dropped to her knees. Helen rummaged around in a bag beside her chaise-lounge and produced two little silver bells. Alastair leaned forward for a better look and saw that they were both attached to wicked little serrated clips, which Helen proceeded to attach to each of Annabel’s puffed-up nipples. Annabel drew in a hiss of breath as each clip bit down on her delicate nubs, and from the way they were being squeezed flat, Alastair guessed that her attention had now been momentarily drawn away from her sore and crushed feet.


“There,” Helen said, patting Annabel on the head. “Now we can’t lose you. Consuela has prepared some finger-food, which you will find in the kitchen. Bring it out to the patio table.”


Looking almost grateful for the chance to spend a moment away from everybody’s scrutiny, Annabel rose and started to walk gingerly towards the French windows.


“Annabel,” Helen said, feigning weariness. “What did I just say about being lazy? Run, damn you!”






As Annabel sped past him, biting her lip from the pain in her tortured feet, with her tinkling breasts bouncing crazily, Alastair realized that this just might turn out to be one of Annabel’s most terrible ordeals so far. Helen was a real bitch, and she was obviously deriving a great deal of sadistic, and even sexual pleasure from her erstwhile antagonist’s debasement. He himself was sporting a hard-on that was impossible to conceal, but if he had guessed correctly, Annabel’s ‘duties’ this afternoon would almost certainly involve erotically servicing all of the men present at some stage. All except Bobby, of course – Helen was definitely not going to allow that!


While Annabel carried plates of food back and forth between the kitchen and the pool patio, her ex-peers settled into casual conversation as if this was any other normal weekend gathering. Watching them, Alastair observed that although they were pretending to ignore her, every so often one or the other would shoot her a furtive look as she passed. It was a similar atmosphere to Eddie Yeats’ birthday bash prior to Annabel’s ‘dog and pony’ performances – Alastair recognized that they were trying to make her feel like a worthless nonentity, even though she was in reality the star attraction. It was a cruel game of role-play, and despite the fact that Annabel was the reason they were all here, it was important to keep up the pretense that she really was nothing more than the hired help.


 In acting out his part as Annabel’s chaperon, Alastair felt no need to join in with their play-acting, and he contented himself with feasting his eyes on Annabel’s absurdly-clad figure as she hurriedly served their food and drink. As she jogged around, breathing somewhat heavily now, her movements became increasingly awkward and jerky as she attempted to alleviate the pressure on her feet. This had the effect of making her exposed breasts bounce around even more wildly than ever, filling the air with the merry tinkling of her little silver bells.






The bodily anguish was bad enough – the searing fire in her nipples, the agonizing stones digging into the soles of her feet, the stabbing pain in her cruelly squashed toes – but it was their laughter and their juvenile, mocking remarks that almost succeeding in reducing Annabel to tears.


“She looks like a little milk cow with those little bells!”


“Her udders are big enough!”


“I’d swear they’ve grown bigger since last time. I wonder if she’s ready for milking?”


“Look at her shoes. Doesn’t she know her right from her left?”


“I always knew she was a bimbo!”


Intellectually, deep inside of her, she knew that she was the victim here, but who could deny the truth of their hurtful comments? With her ruined hair, her ridiculous dress, her painful, silly-looking plastic footwear, and her naked, jingling breasts, she really had to look imbecilic beyond belief!


And she was allowing them to belittle her, wasn’t she? There was the promise of money and freedom somewhere in the future – isn’t that why she was in this shameful situation right now? She did have a choice, didn’t she? If so, then maybe she deserved everything that they did to her.


When everybody had received their first drinks, Helen said to her, “Stand to attention, legs apart and hands behind your head, until somebody requires your services.”


Under a black cloud of despair, her nipples and feet aching terribly, and the growing pressure in her bladder reaching worrying proportions, Annabel humbly complied. Feeling utterly valueless, she watched her erstwhile friends chatting contentedly together, a fashionable crowd of young men and women without a care in the world, of which, once upon a time, she had been a very central part.






Chapter Eighty Seven


“Hey you, I need a refill!” said Trent, waving his glass.


Annabel didn’t move at first, and by the time she had registered that she was being summoned, it was too late to avoid Helen seizing the opportunity.


“Daydreaming on the job? I think that calls for a punishment, don’t you, guys?”


There was a general chorus of assent as Helen rummaged in her bag again, and then pulled out a red leather flogger. Alastair could only guess as to what other kinky delights the bag contained, but it was certainly evident that Helen had indulged in a little online shopping in preparation for today’s fun and games.


 “Trent, as you are the injured party, would you mind administering the spanking?”


“It would be my pleasure,” Trent said, taking the flogger. “Come on sweetie, bend over.”


Annabel looked aghast at the flogger in his hand, and then pleadingly at Alastair.


“Don’t look at me,” he grinned. “These good people are you employers today.”


Her already flushed cheeks turning even redder, Annabel turned around and half-heartedly offered Trent her rump.


“Not like that!” Helen snapped. “Bend right over and touch your toes.”


Annabel let out a barely audible breath, and then did as she was told, her trimmed dress rising up over her buttocks and exposing her white cotton panties.


“Christ! I’d almost forgotten what a lovely butt you have,” Josh sighed.


Alastair had to agree that she presented a most delectable sight, with her ass in the air, and her naked tits dangling in front of her face. Even her ex-boyfriend Bobby was leaning in for a closer look!


“Give her six of the best, Trent,” Helen said. “And make sure she remembers them.”


There was a loud crack as the six tails of the flogger wrapped themselves around Annabel’s thighs.


“Ow!” Annabel shrieked, her head coming up and one of her hands reaching around to her behind.


“Stay in position,” Helen warned her.




This time Trent had a better aim, and the leather tails snaked around Annabel’s ass cheeks. Again, the poor girl howled in pain. The third and fourth strokes followed in rapid succession, and now Annabel was shaking her lovely round ass, her breaths coming in choked sobs.




Number five landed on her smooth thighs again, leaving behind a series of pink welts.


“What do you have to say for yourself, Annabel?” asked Helen.


“I.. I’m sorry… for being so lazy…” Annabel sniveled.


“Good. It had better not happen again. Last one, Trent.”


Annabel shrieked out loud once more as Trent delivered the final lash, and then in a moment of exquisite delight for Alastair, a damp patch appeared in the crotch of her panties.


“Oh, fuck!” laughed Samantha. “She’s going to wet herself!”


Annabel’s hand flew back to cover herself but the floodgates had already opened, and a steady stream of urine erupted from her bladder, running down her thighs and forming an expanding puddle between her feet.


Mortified, Annabel straightened up and started to hobble off in the direction of the house, but Helen shouted, “Hey! Come back here!”


Her crimson face streaked with tears, and her hands pressed between her legs, Annabel came to a halt and looked around desperately. The stream of piss had now slowed to a trickle between her fingers, but the insides of her legs were shiny from her micturition, and she had left  an embarrassing large dark pool on the patio.


“Oh, no! No, no, no!” Annabel moaned. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”


“You filthy girl!” Helen smirked. “Well you can’t wear soiled knickers can you?” Take them off immediately.”






Although this hadn’t been a part of Helen’s plan today, watching Annabel unexpectedly disgrace herself in front of everyone fueled her excitement even further. Just as when she had witnessed Annabel performing like an animal at Nash’s house, she found herself becoming increasingly stimulated by her former antagonist’s obvious state of mortification.


“Please, can’t I go inside and do it?” Annabel moaned.


“Absolutely not!” Helen said. “You deserve to be punished for pissing on my patio, and I will keep punishing you until you are house-trained! Now take them off and hold them up so everybody can see what a disgusting girl you really are!”


Looking quite pitiful, Annabel reached behind and slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Then, looking upward to avoid their faces, she pulled the soaked garment down her thighs and then stepped out of it. After a brief delay, she picked it up and held it between thumb and forefinger. Her obvious distaste gave Helen another wickedly delicious idea.


“Now put them on your head. Wear them like a hat.”


Annabel looked at her in horror. “Please, Mistress Helen, don’t make me do that!”


“If you don’t do as I say right now, you’ll get another six lashes across your bare ass.”


Annabel vented another delightfully shuddering sigh, sniffed back her tears, and then, in front of them all, actually pulled her wet panties down over the top of her head! With her breasts sticking out of her dress adorned with the little bells on her nipples, and her silly plastic shoes on the wrong feet, she now looked ridiculous beyond words, and the anguished look in Annabel’s lovely blue eyes said it all.


“Now get back to work,” Helen said. “I need another drink.”


“Me too,” said Josh.


Obviously terrified of incurring further chastisement, Annabel quickly gathered their glasses and stumbled over to the poolside bar. When she had returned with their drinks, Samantha said, “My ashtray is full, Annabel.”


As Annabel picked it up, Helen’s sadistic imagination sparked into life again. “Where do you think you are going with that?”


Annabel paused and looked at her in bewilderment. “I… I…”


“Eat it,” Helen said with a devilish smile. “Then lick it clean.”


Trent burst into laughter, nearly spilling his drink, while Annabel merely stared in disbelief. For a second, Helen thought she might have tipped her over the edge. Several expressions seemed to pass across her face in succession – revulsion followed by a glimmer of anger, then a scowl of disgust, but finally that now-familiar expression of sad resignation.


Helen knew that Annabel had never been a smoker, so having to consume the four cigarette butts in the ashtray would be an even more revolting experience for her. The whole group went deathly quiet as Annabel, unable to keep the look of repulsion off her face, gingerly picked up the first stub and after a momentary pause, popped it into her mouth. She grimaced and swallowed, and Samantha said, “Eew! Annabel! That is so disgusting! I cannot believe you actually ate that!”


Annabel briefly looked as though she was going to throw up, but she seemed to manage to get it under control.


“Hurry up!” Helen beamed. “Finish your meal!”


Everybody looked on in repugnance as Annabel slowly and miserably swallowed the other three butts, one after the other. Her constantly red face had taken on a rather pale hue now, and she was unable to prevent herself from gagging as the last cigarette butt descended into her stomach. Finally, to a background of groans form her former friends, Annabel stuck out her little pink tongue, and started to lap up the ash on the bottom of the tray.






Chapter Eighty Eight


Annabel had been constantly standing for over two hours and her tortured feet felt as if they were on fire! When there were no glasses to refill, instead of allowing her to sit down, Helen had instructed Annabel to stand perfectly still with her hands behind her head, except for a couple of  occasions when she had been deemed too slow to react to an order and had been sent on an agonizing trot around the back lawn. As her underwear had dried out, to Annabel’s shame it had started to give off a rather unpleasant fishy odor, and Helen had ordered her to remove it and rinse it under the outside faucet. Now, as the sun started to sink and it started to get cooler, the group decided to move back inside.


“Annabel, take the dishes and glasses into the kitchen and wash them, then join us in the dining room,” Helen said.


Even as accustomed as she now was to taking orders, Annabel still inwardly bridled at Helen’s offhand manner. Who did she think she was? Even so, there was no question of disobeying or showing any sign of dissent with Barclay watching. As with all the other indignities she had suffered so far, she knew she would just have to endure this awful day as well – otherwise all of her efforts so far would have been for nothing.


She loaded everything up onto a tray and took it into the kitchen. Apart from the pain in her feet and nipples, her legs were aching now and she desperately wanted to sit down for a while. On top of that, despite drinking from the kitchen sink, she couldn’t get rid of the horrible taste of ash in her mouth!


As she washed the dishes, she listened to them taking in the other room. Along with her conflicting states of shame and arousal, a vague sense of unreality had now enveloped her. A few months ago, she would have been sitting there with them, sharing their jokes and gossip and enjoying the envious glances of Trent and Josh while she snuggled up next to Bobby.


 Now she was nothing more than their menial, and worse, the target of their verbal and physical abuse. So far, apart from making her expose her breasts, her mistreatment hadn’t involved anything of a sexual nature, but she was sure that would come soon. The boys in particular had been drinking quite heavily all afternoon, which did not bode well!


“Annabel, hurry up will you?” Helen yelled from the living room. “We’re ready to start the game!”


Annabel’s stomach tightened and she drew a deep breath. Game? That doesn’t sound good.


Then she hung up the dishcloth and hobbled painfully and anxiously into the living room.






Alastair watched with interest as Helen laid out her kinky props on the coffee table. Clearly the young lady had been putting a lot of thought into Annabel’s trials and tribulations today. He thought back to the times she had visited Pemberton Hall as Annabel’s friend, and it reminded him that you never really knew what was going on in other people’s minds. Yes, he had observed that they had been rivals, constantly jousting with each other in a fake-friendly manner, but he had never realized the depth of animosity that Helen had been carrying all this time. She had already stolen Annabel’s boyfriend, but she was evidently far from satisfied, and it looked as though it was her intention to destroy Annabel’s spirit as well as her reputation.


Annabel appeared apprehensively before them, her face beginning to glow from embarrassment again. Her tits still poked ludicrously out of her dress, her pink nipples decorated with the tinkling bell-clamps, and her feet remained squeezed the wrong way around into those ugly plastic shoes. He glanced around at the rest of the audience, and noted the same sexually charged excitement in their eyes as before. Even Bobby, despite the smirk of contempt of his lips, couldn’t take his eyes off his ex-girlfriend.


“We’re going to play a little game now, Annabel,” Helen said. “You’d like to play a game, wouldn’t you?”


Annabel looked at her, looking both puzzled and fearful. She had become accustomed to a variety of sordid ‘games’ under Nash’s tutelage, none of them pleasant for her.


“Answer me.”


“Yes, Mistress Helen,” Annabel said, and Samantha tittered, evidently still unable to get used to Annabel’s new submissive position in their lives.


“Good,” Helen said. “This game is designed to test your obedience. I’m going to set you a few simple tasks. If you don’t complete one, you will have to pay a forfeit instead.”


She gestured to a glass bowl in the middle of the coffee table, which was filled with slips of paper. “Myself and the boys have already decided on the forfeits, but as I am a kind mistress, I will allow you to chose them yourself.”


Annabel’s eyes wandered anxiously over the array of sex toys and other items littering the table, her expression becoming visibly more distressed.


“Of course, if you don’t want to pay the forfeits, simply carry out each task as requested,” Helen smiled. “It’s entirely up to you. Are you ready to begin?”


As it was a rhetorical question, Annabel watched silently as Helen picked up an empty beer bottle and walked over to the far end of the living room. When she returned to the sofa, Helen said, “We’ll start with a simple one. I want you to remove your dress and then pick up that bottle – with your pussy!”






Chapter Eighty Nine


Annabel stood motionless, her eyes fixed upon a large pink dildo on the table poking rudely up in the air. There was other bondage equipment too, cuffs, gags, hoods, whips and canes, most of which she had already been unfortunate to have become quite familiar with over the past three months, as well a bowl of eggs, and a rather large banana whose purpose she didn’t even want to think about! What the hell was this? Had Helen been taking lessons from Nash?


“If you don’t do it now, I’ll take that as a forfeit,” Helen said, snapping her out of her hypnotic daze. Annabel had no idea what was written on the slips of paper, but if Trent and Josh had been adding their input, she had a pretty good idea. As repugnant as her ‘task’ was, it would be infinitely preferable to submitting to those two sex-crazed animals again!


Inadvertently catching Bobby’s eye, Annabel felt her cheeks getting hotter as she pulled the dress up over her head and let it fall to the carpet. Absurdly, she reflexively put her hands between her legs to cover her bare crotch.


“Don’t be such a prude!” Trent laughed. “We’ve seen it before, and besides, you’re going to need it in a minute.”


Awash with shame, Annabel knew that if she didn’t get the disgusting deed over with soon, she would have to draw a forfeit from the bowl. Now wearing nothing but the bell-clips on her nipples and her painful plastic shoes, Annabel turned away from them and squatted over the bottle. Then, feeling like a cheap whore, she reached between her legs and parted her labia, which, adding to her mortification, were wet and swollen. This was in no way of course due to any enjoyment on her part, merely her treacherous body’s reaction to whatever artificial stimulus Nash was lacing her food with.


As the neck of the bottle slid into her vagina, she heard Josh say, “I once saw a sex show like this,” which drew another round of hurtful laughter.


Now came the hard part. When she had received the length of the neck, she removed her hands and squeezed her vaginal muscles, praying that she would have the strength to hold it in place. Then she gradually straightened her legs and, her embarrassment mingling with a sense of relief, managed to raise the bottle off the ground.


“What a slut!” Bobby muttered, his familiar voice driving home the fact that she was actually standing naked in front of her former peers with a beer bottle stuck up between her legs!


“Now I want you to carry it across to the other side of the room,” Helen said, adding, “and if you drop it, you draw a forfeit.”


With a slight whimper, Annabel shuffled clumsily around, thighs apart, her vaginal wall clenched around the glass neck of the bottle. She could already feel it slipping due to the excessive lubrication inside her, and as she took the first ponderous step, she instinctively knew that she wasn’t going to make it.


“I hope you’re not going to disobey me,” Helen said.


“Look at her cunt!” said Josh. “She’s sopping!”


“She must be enjoying herself,” said Drew.


Why are they being so cruel? Annabel thought. Did they really always hate me this much?


As she attempted another step, she felt the bottle slip a bit further. One more and she would lose it, and then she would have to draw one of the dreaded slips of paper from the bowl. Realization quickly dawned upon her that Helen had no intention of letting her complete any of the so-called ‘tasks’, and that, just as with Nash and his cronies, she was in for a long evening of humiliation and sexual abuse again.


Resignation and despair swept over her as she inched forward, and sure enough, the unfaithful bottle slipped out of her body and bounced onto the carpet.


“Annabel!” Helen said, her eyes glowing with sadistic pleasure. “You disobeyed me!”


She wants the forfeit,” Drew laughed. “She’s horny!”


Annabel closed her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her up. Despite all of the physical, sexual, and mental anguish she had endured so far, she knew she would never, ever, get used to being humbled so completely like this in front of all of her old friends.


Helen stirred the slips of paper in the bowel, and said, “Pick one, and read it out aloud.”






With trembling fingers, Annabel reached into the bowl and picked out the first paper slip she touched. She knew it didn’t matter which forfeit she picked because they were all likely to be equally repugnant.


Her eyes ran across the words but she failed to register their meaning. She was suddenly acutely aware of how absurd she must look, standing naked before them with the little bells on her nipples, about to read out her vile request.


“Well?” Helen said. “Have you forgotten how to read?”


Annabel tried to focus on the paper, aware in her peripheral vision of their eyes boring into her, each of them savoring her total downfall. As with all of her previous degrading trials, she knew that she was going to do this, because that nebulous day of freedom and wealth some nine months down the line was all that she had left to cling to.


Almost inaudibly, she mumbled, “Trent… please may I…?”


As her voice faltered, Helen said, “May you what? Speak up!”


Annabel cleared her throat, the injustice of it all once again making her want to scream. Even though she hadn’t written these words down, she was the one vocalizing them, and even though they all knew that it was under duress, it would still appear as if she was expressing herself willingly. Like Nash, this was the way Helen wanted it – Annabel appearing to act as if she really was a common hussy.


“Trent,” she began again. “Please may I suck your cock and swallow your cum?”






Chapter Ninety


“Annabel! Really!” Samantha tittered.


Definitely not for the first time, Alastair felt his cock thickening in his pants. Even though he had witnessed Annabel being placed in so many different humiliating and degrading situations in recent months, it never failed to excite him when this former arrogant young heiress was forced to behave like a filthy whore.


It also occurred to him that some preplanning had been put into this, because the normally eager Trent, merely said, “Excuse me?”


Annabel glanced helplessly at Helen and then repeated her request.


“Why do you want to give me a blowjob?” Trent asked casually.


A rapt silence descended as everyone watched Annabel writhing with embarrassment. Not only was she going to be ravished physically, but mentally too. She was going to have to perform an act that she found abhorrent but she was also going to have to beg for it!


“Are you a nympho, is that it?” Trent said.


This was too much! Over the previous few years Alastair had watched many hopeful young men –Trent included – trying to flirt with the unobtainable Miss Annabel from Pemberton Hall, knowing deep down that she was way out of their league. Now here she was having to explain why she wanted to suck Trent’s dick in front of everybody!


“Say it,” Helen said. “Tell Trent what a horny bitch you are.”


Eyes shimmering, Annabel said, “I… I’m a horny bitch…”




“And.. and I want… please may I… suck your cock?”


A quick glance at Trent’s bulging crotch told Alastair that he was more than ready to receive Annabel’s services, but still her agony continued.


“I’m not convinced,” Trent said. “Say it like you mean it.”


Annabel looked at him, her face a mask of misery. Then, to Alastair’s utter joy, she dropped to her knees and blurted out, “Please Master Trent, I am a dirty cunt  and I would love to suck your cock!”


It was a defining moment, totally unexpected, and one which underlined Annabel’s complete and final fall from grace. You could have heard a pin drop before Trent sighed dramatically, “Okay, if you must.”


Despite the obvious pantomime that was unfolding, Annabel’s emotional pain had created a sizzling electrical charge among her onlookers. As Annabel freed Trent’s rigid member and enveloped his cockhead with her lips, Alastair looked around and didn’t see one sympathetic expression in the room.





Filled with shame and self-loathing, Annabel took the full length of Trent’s penis into her mouth, feeling its soft skin moving against her tongue while she relaxed her throat as Nash had taught her. Even though she was performing this hateful act in front of all of her ex-friends, there was nothing she could do to stop the warm rush as her deceitful body reacted to the physical contact.


She heard Trent sigh as she moved her head up and down on his shaft, and Josh said, “Damn, she’s good! Did she ever do this with you, Bobby?”


“Uh-uh,” Bobby said in disgust. “She always said it was too demeaning for her.”


“What? She’s loving every minute of it! That’s not just a blowjob. She’s deep-throating him!”


Annabel’s ears were burning now as they discussed her whilst she continued with this most intimate and personal of acts. The most awful part was that everything they were saying was true. Prior to falling under Nash’s control, she had been relatively naive about sex. Now she was an expert ‘cocksucker’ as Nash liked to call her. But none of this made her ordeal any easier. Physically, they may have transformed her into a whore, but deep inside she was still the same proud Annabel, and no matter how many times she publicly dishonored herself, it never got any easier.


To add to her torment, her own arousal was now building to a crescendo, and as she felt Trent’s thigh muscles tightening under the palms of her hands, she knew to her dismay, that she was going to climax when he did.


As she felt his cock twitch in her throat, a shuddering orgasm swept through her and she uttered a muted groan around his shaft. Trent also cried out, jerking his hips as his hot seed shot into Annabel’s esophagus. She gulped greedily, nostrils flaring as she struggled for air. Another salvo of Trent’s sticky issue was expelled down Annabel’s throat and into her stomach, as a second unwelcome orgasm pulsed through her body.


Annabel stayed where she was, slumped forward on her knees with Trent’s wilting penis still in her mouth. While her ecstasy faded, acutely aware of what she had just done in front of them all she was terrified of disengaging herself and having to face them.


A long moment passed in silence, and then Bobby said, “’Demeaning’, huh? What a slut!”


Annabel let out a muffled sob into Trent’s crotch. There was no point in protesting – her bodily pleasure had been obvious to them all. Her face flushed and damp with tears, Annabel withdrew Trent’s now-flaccid dick from her mouth. She could feel all eyes upon her, and desperately wanted to flee the room, but she was now so well-conditioned that she remained on her knees, subservient  and ashamed.


Finally Helen said, “Well now that you’ve had your fun, perhaps you’d be kind enough to refill everybody’s glasses, and then you can try performing another simple task.”






Chapter Ninety One


Helen was being utterly ruthless! After watching Annabel expertly sucking Trent off, Alastair  was once again filled with pent-up desire. But as was usually the case with Nash, the order of events were today being dictated by Helen, and he could only wait in hope that his name might be included somewhere in that glass bowl.


Alastair had borne witness to some bizarre and kinky scenes since meeting Darius Nash, but a surreal atmosphere cloaked him as he listened to this attractive crowd chatting and drinking merrily while their tormented ex-friend stood naked before them.


Annabel was standing with her knees slightly bent and her tortured feet pointing outwards at a hundred and eighty degrees. Her arms were also stretched out to the side, level with her shoulders and palms facing down, upon which Helen had balanced two shooter glasses full of water. To complete her absurd pose, another tumbler of water rested on the top of Annabel’s head.


Her mission this time was to stay absolutely still for twenty minutes without spilling any of the water. She had been in the humiliating position for just three minutes and already her arms were beginning to tremble. A cute little frown creased her brow as she battled to concentrate.


Poor thing! Alastair thought. She really is trying to avoid another forfeit!


As usual, he visually devoured her nakedness, her narrow waist and flat belly, the curve of her hips and thighs, her prominent, hairless vulva with its pouting lips, and her perfectly shaped breasts. Despite her comical and humbling posture, the degrading little bells clinging to her nipples, and her badly cut hair, she remained a beauty to behold, a luscious sight that Alastair would never grow tired of.


“Be careful,” Josh said. “Your arms are dropping. You’re going to lose the glasses.”


A tiny grunt escaped Annabel’s lips as she strove to keep her arms level. Alastair drank in the anguished look in her lovely blue eyes as her face turned a deeper shade of scarlet with the sustained effort.


Helen looked at her watch. “Five minutes. Only fifteen more to go.”


Her words were not intended to be an encouragement of course, merely a reminder of how much more pain Annabel was going to have to suffer if she was to escape more sexual humiliation. Annabel whimpered, her arms and knees now visibly shaking. It was patently obvious that she wasn’t going to make it, and yet she was giving it her all! Such was her fear of Nash by now, that even though she was in a no-win situation, she still felt obliged to go through with these absurd and meaningless tasks!


 She lasted one more minute before, with a cry of frustration, her aching arms dipped, and the two shooter glasses fell onto the carpet. There was a general hum of mock disapproval in the room before Helen tutted, “Disobeying again? Whatever will Mr. Nash say? Come on then. Pick a another forfeit.”


In a moment of confusion, Annabel forgot about the tumbler on her head, and as she leaned forward to select another slip of paper from the bowl, it landed on the coffee table, splashing Helen, before bouncing, unbroken, onto the floor.


“Oh!” Annabel gasped. “I’m sorry, Mistress Helen!”


Helen shook her head. “Disobedient. No bladder control. Clumsy and stupid. You really are damaged goods, aren’t you? Barclay, you can tell Mr. Nash that I’m quite disappointed with his maid’s service today.”


“I’ll be sure to inform Mr. Nash of Annabel’s failings,” Alastair said, and as he watched the stricken girl select another forfeit from the bowl, it was as much as he could do not to whip out his cock and start jerking of right there and then!






Annabel read the forfeit with a sinking heart, but in the knowledge that there was to be no mercy, forced herself to read the disgusting and ridiculous message out loud. “I want to drink six raw eggs whilst masturbating with a banana.”


The items in question had been sitting innocuously on the coffee table amid the array of sex toys, and now that she knew their purpose, she caught herself wondering who had dreamed up this perverted little exercise. Surely not Helen?


“Oh God, Annabel!” Samantha shrieked. “What a sick mind you’ve got! I had no idea!”


Annabel almost protested out loud, ‘It’s not me! They wrote this vile stuff!’  But instead, wretchedly accepting her fate, she waited uncertainly for Helen to say something else before hesitatingly reaching for the banana.


“Look at her!” Drew sneered. “She can’t wait to put it up her cunt!”


The banana was about eight inches long, firm and curved, and a good inch and a half in diameter. Despite everything she had done, she couldn’t believe that she was actually going to insert this into her vagina in front of them all! And yet, her hands acting as if by their own accord, she shut her eyes, parted her thighs, spread her puffy labia with her fingers, and then pushed the tip of the banana inside her body. As she worked it further in, she heard Helen say, “Josh, would you mind breaking the eggs for Annabel?”


To her chagrin, her well-lubricated pussy accommodated the intruding fruit with ease, and to make matters worse, an uninvited tingle of pleasure ran down her spine as she shoved it up deeper between her legs.


She heard Josh cracking the eggs and as she reluctantly started to move the banana in and out of her pussy, she opened her eyes in time to see him raising a pint glass filled with raw eggs, the yolks bobbing around like yellow ping pong balls. Annabel had never eaten one raw egg in her life, let alone half a dozen, and she wondered apprehensively if she was going to be able to keep them down.


Josh approached her with the glass and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Open up, you naughty girl!” he grinned, raising the rim to her lips.


Her distress now matching the disgraceful arousal between her legs, Annabel obeyed, and as she allowed the first yolk into her mouth, she instantly knew that she wasn’t going to be able to do this.


“Keep moving it down there,” Helen reminded her, and with her right hand guiding the banana up and down, Annabel tried to swallow. It was the texture more than the taste that made her gag, although somehow she managed to keep the slimy yolk down, letting it mingle with the ash, cigarette butts, and semen already floating around in her queasy stomach. Despite her success, Josh kept pouring the viscous fluid into her mouth, and unable to keep up, Annabel couldn’t help but allow some of it trickle down her chin and over her naked breasts.


“Utterly hopeless!” Helen mocked.


A second yolk slipped into her gullet and Annabel retched again, before snorting two yellow lines of goo out of her nostrils. Josh pinched her nose, forcing her mouth open, and tilted the glass further. More and more of the foul egg-yolks entered Annabel’s mouth, one of them escaping as she hawked and choked.


“She’s let go of the banana!” said Samantha.


“Trent, go and help Josh!” said Helen.


All Annabel could focus on was trying to swallow the revolting eggs, and she gripped Josh’s arms with both hands, but now she could feel the banana moving inside her again, and even though her face was raised, she realized that Trent must be crouching between her legs.


As she felt the warmth gathering towards a second excruciatingly shameful orgasm in front of them all, she gagged again, this time letting the yellow mess cascade over her chest and down her torso. Josh stepped away to avoid the sticky shower and Annabel fell backwards onto her elbows, her hips bucking as Trent valiantly kept hold of the invading banana stuck between her legs.






Chapter Ninety Two


An air of insanity had gripped the room. Helen had a feverish look in her eyes and Samantha and Drew were laughing manically as Trent, also apparently out of control, whipped the banana out of Annabel’s cunt and unzipped his fly. Alastair just had time to glimpse the wet, pink interior of her pussy before Trent frantically shoved his cock inside. As he began to steadily thrust into Annabel, he reached down and started massaging Annabel’s breasts, coating them liberally with the excess slime.


Annabel had been brought to the point of orgasm by the banana and it didn’t take long before Trent’s increasingly rapid stabs sent her over the top again. Her chest and face now all slick and shiny, she arched her back and, throwing one arm over her eyes, uttered a guttural moan which gradually escalated into a high-pitched wail. A moment later, Trent grunted and tensed, his fingers gripping the little bells attached to Annabel’s nipples, pulling them up and stretching her breasts into  elongated cones.


As their climaxes dwindled, Trent pulled roughly out of her, causing Annabel to gasp. Wiping his sticky hands on her thighs, Trent stood and abruptly headed off to the bathroom to clean up. Annabel remained where she was, defiled and dirtied in every sense, still hiding her face in shame, her shoulders gently shaking.


It had been such a bestial display that at first nobody knew what to say. Such was her state of angst that Annabel hadn’t even had the propriety to close her legs, affording them all with a clear view of her juicy, shaved cunt.


Trent returned from the bathroom looking a little sheepish, and Helen said to him, “Trent honey, could you fetch that bottle of tequila from the drinks cabinet?”


Turning her attention to Annabel’s prone, still slightly breathless form, she said, “It just occurred to me that Annabel hasn’t anything to drink.”


“Unless you include that pint of raw eggs!” Drew laughed.


“Let’s see if she can still take her liquor,” Helen said. “Stand up, Annabel.”


Slowly, Annabel pulled herself up into a sitting position, pulling her knees together as she realized how brazenly she had been exposing herself to everyone. Then, with some effort, she rose unsteadily to her feet. It looked to Alastair as though the physical travails of her day were starting to take their toll. However, Helen still had plenty more games of torment up her sleeve!






Her stomach churning with the odious mixture of cigarette butts, ash, and raw eggs, Annabel watched forlornly as Helen laid a tape measure along the carpet, and then handed her one of the shooter glasses that she had earlier dropped on the floor. Uncapping the bottle of tequila, Helen announced, “Now Annabel’s is going to take the sobriety test.”


She filled the glass in Annabel’s shaking hand and said, “This shouldn’t be too difficult – even for a dolt like you. Drink up.”


Annabel was too exhausted to be offended at this latest insult. She was more concerned with the nasty drink she was about to consume. In her previously cosseted existence, she hadn’t been much of a drinker, although she had occasionally been known to get a little tipsy on cocktails or expensive champagne. She had never been interested in hard liquor however, and the one time she had merely smelled tequila had made her retch. Now Helen was forcing her to knock back a whole shooter glassful! She remembered from Nash’s dreadful strip poker night that this potent drink was supposed to be accompanied by a wedge of lime and a dash of salt, but sadistically,  Helen was going to make her swallow this neat.


Figuring it to be the least painful approach, Annabel raised to glass to her lips and knocked it back in one go. She let out a spluttering gasp as the fiery liquid burned down her throat, making her eyes water.


Oh, God! That was vile!


With an unexpected surge of pride, Annabel managed to keep the shot down, although she immediately felt giddy. Emboldened by the warm glow rapidly spreading through her body, Annabel glared at Helen defiantly.


“Like that, did you?” Helen smiled. “In that case, have another.”


Annabel’s bravado quickly gave way to alarm. Another? Surely she wouldn’t be able to hold any more of it down? With the revolting contents of her stomach mingling together, she was feeling decidedly queasy. Despite all of the depraved acts she had already been forced to undertake, the thought of vomiting on Helen’s carpet in front of her former friends would be unthinkable!


Nevertheless she watched helplessly as Helen refilled her glass, while behind her Josh cackled, “Annabel’s getting drunk! This is going to be so cool!”


With no chance of escape, Annabel decided to get it over with as quickly as possible, and chugged the second glass straight down. Again, she grimaced as the tequila scorched her throat. Her whole body felt flushed as the alcohol surged through her veins, and she suddenly felt as if she was floating six inches above the carpet.


She heard Trent say, “How are you feeling, Annabel?” and then Samantha giggled.


As if by magic, a third glass of tequila was in Annabel’s hand now, and for some reason, Annabel poked her tongue out at Helen before knocking the drink back. She wobbled in her painful plastic shoes, and put her hand on Helen’s shoulder to steady herself. She was aware of laughter in the room, but for the first time that day, she didn’t really care.


“Another?” Helen said, pouring from the bottle and handing Annabel the glass again.


“I’d be careful if I were you, Helen,” Samantha said. “She looks like she’s about to throw up!”


Annabel turned awkwardly and slurred, “Fuck you, Sam!”


“Oh-oh!” Josh laughed. “Cinderella’s getting bold!”


Without replying, Annabel snatched the glass and tipped its burning contents down her throat, but when she handed the glass back, she deliberately dropped it before Helen could reach it.


“Annabel!” Helen scolded, unable to keep the grin off her face. “You are behaving very badly! And you know what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?”


Annabel nodded, hiccupped, and took an involuntary step backwards. “Naughty girlsh… getsh punished!”


Helen retrieved the glass and topped it up again. “Come on, one more and then we’ll see how well you can hold your alcohol.”






Chapter Ninety Three


As Annabel gulped down her fifth consecutive neat tequila, Alastair massaged his erection inside his pants. Unlike the rest of them, he hadn’t had much to drink, but he had become totally intoxicated by the sexually charged madness that had gripped these young folk around him.


Power corrupts, he thought. And absolute power corrupts absolutely. Or something like that.


But wasn’t that what this was all about? Total control over a fellow human being, free reign to inflict upon her whatever perverted tortures they could dream up with impunity. During the day, at work or college, these attractive, refined young adults would surely be well behaved models of decorum. Now just look at them! Here was their ex-friend, not too long ago the very best of them, now naked, humiliated, defiled, and utterly helpless – and they were feeding off her debasement like vampires!


Annabel swayed unsteadily, clearly inebriated, her face, breasts and belly smeared with raw eggs, her face again taking on a slightly greenish tone. The poor girl had such a disgusting concoction swilling around her guts, Samantha’s prediction about vomiting had to be due to materialize quite soon!


Helen capped the tequila bottle and placed it at one end of the tape measure, and then said, “I want you to put your finger on the top of the bottle, and walk around it three times.”


“Oh, fuck!” Bobby couldn’t help but laugh. “Helen, you are one piece of work!”


Annabel wobbled for a moment as she processed this odd command, before finally leaning down with her index finger daintily extended. As ludicrous as she looked, naked and bent over with the little bells chiming from her hanging nipples, Alastair’s eyes roved greedily over her body, catching a rear-view glimpse of the soft, damp petals between her thighs.


It took her two attempts to even locate the top of the bottle, but she got there eventually and then began to unsteadily circle the bottle. After she had completed her third circuit, Helen said, “Okay, now stand up and try to walk in a line along the tape.”


As soon as Annabel straightened up, a look of alarm crossed her pretty features and she put one hand against the wall while the other came up to cover her mouth.


“Oh shit! She’s going to blow!” said Josh, leaning back into the sofa.


Indeed, for an awful moment it looked as though Annabel was about to puke, but instead, when she opened her mouth, she emitted a long, unladylike belch.


“Gross! Whatever would Aunt Sissy say?” said Samantha.


 Even in her disoriented state, Alastair could see the embarrassment in Annabel’s eyes as laughter again filled the room.


“Walk the line,” Helen reminded her, and after recovering a semblance of control, Annabel pushed away from the wall. Her head must have been in a terrible spin however, because after a tentative first step, she staggered sideways, cannoned into the drinks cabinet, and then slid onto the floor.


“Try again,” Helen said heartlessly.


With a little sob of frustration, Annabel attempted to stand up, but losing her balance once again, she slumped forward onto all floors, her musical tits jiggling beneath her. Shaking her head in an apparent attempt to clear it, Annabel bravely continued with her pointless quest by crawling on her hands and knees towards the tape measure. When she reached it, she awkwardly rose into an unseemly crouching position, knees wide apart, displaying her smooth crotch. But when she attempted to stand, she immediately fell backwards, her legs flying up in the air much to the amusement of her sadistic audience. Finally defeated, Annabel remained where she was, breasts heaving, thighs spread, with her fingers pressed up against her eyes.






“Stand up Annabel, and choose your next forfeit,” Helen said.


Oh, please leave me alone! I just want to go to sleep.


Through her drunken haze, Annabel’s focus returned to her throbbing feet and nipples, and without considering the consequences, she angrily plucked the nipple clamps off and flung them across the room.


“Annabel!” Helen said. “Who said you could do that? Do you want to get punished again?”


As the blood returned to her cruelly squeezed nubs, Annabel gasped loudly. The excruciating pain brought her a modicum of clarity, and reacting instinctively to Helen’s threat of retribution, she maneuvered herself up into a sitting position. She gazed around blurrily, and then deciding that it was still too soon to attempt to stand, she again crawled on all fours toward the coffee table. Then she rose shakily up onto her knees and dipped her hand into the hateful glass bowl.


She blinked as she tried to decipher the words, and it took a moment to realize that she was holding the slip of paper upside down. Then, mustering as much concentration as she could, Annabel read out, “I… wash… I wanna cock in eshry ole.”


Helen said, “Annabel, you’re slurring. Could you please repeat yourself more clearly?”


Suddenly feeling foolish again, Annabel slowly enunciated the sentence again. “I… want a cock in every… hole.”


“Whore!” Bobby muttered, and Annabel looked up in horror as she realized what she had just said – in her alcoholic fuddle, she had briefly forgotten that he was still here witnessing her ruination.


“Explain what you mean by that,” Helen said.


Annabel wavered in front of them. As drunk as she was, she still comprehended what Helen was doing – Annabel was going to have to spell it out, and in doing so she would lend credence to the illusion that she was the architect of these depraved forfeits. Fortunately, her current state of inebriation had a slight numbing effect on the continual shame she was experiencing, so she managed to say, “I want a cock in my cunt, one up my asshole, and another in my mouth – all at the same time!”


“Really, Annabel!” Samantha said. “You’re getting worse and worse!”


Annabel had to admit that she had even surprised herself with the ease in which she had come out with such an obscene request, and she figured she had the tequila to thank for that.


“And who do you want to perform this orgy with?” Helen asked.


Even in her befuddled state, Annabel knew that this was a no-brainer – asking her former sweetheart, Bobby, was out of the question, which left only the three other remaining men in the room.


“Trent, Josh… and Mr. Barclay,” Annabel answered, feeling more than a little disconcerted at the way her tortured nipples were already hardening at the prospect.


“Well, you’d better ask them nicely then.”






Chapter Ninety Four


Stark naked, other than her silly plastic shoes, Annabel mumbled her lewd request. Alastair could see that her pink nipples were erect, and her labia, plump and wet. As intoxicated as she was, he tried to gauge what her state of mind could be right now. Certainly, she had just come out with some brazenly foul-mouthed words, something that she normally had great difficulty with. She had also displayed a couple of minor acts of defiance – something Alastair thought Darius and Mrs. Craddock had crushed out of her months ago. He wondered how she might be feeling about that after her ‘Dutch courage’ wore off later.


Alastair was disconcerted to see that Trent and Josh, if anything even drunker than Annabel, were already stripping off, displaying their well-chiseled torsos, and muscular legs. At his advanced age, Alastair had no intention of getting naked in front of these young folk, no matter how much he wanted to join in the fun.


As the boys peeled off their underwear, Helen turned towards him. “Aren’t you going to join in, Barclay?”


Alastair saw Samantha looking at him with an amused expression and he felt himself blushing. “I hardly think…”


“Annabel asked for you,” Helen said gently. “Why don’t you take care of her mouth and let those two horny studs do the rest?”


Why the hell not? Alastair thought. He had previously taken a Cialis as a precautionary measure, even though had never previously failed to perform whenever Annabel’s delightful charms were on offer. He downed the remains of his drink and went over the center of the room where Josh was lying on his back with Annabel crouching over his dick. Trent, with a brand new youthful erection sticking up at an acute angle, had maneuvered behind her, and holding her by the waist, was slowly bending her forward.


Even though he had never participated in a foursome before, it took little imagination for Alastair to figure out his position. Unzipping himself he pulled out his rigid member and then moved around towards Annabel’s face. She looked up at him with unfocused eyes and then gave out a small grunt of surprise as Trent started to penetrate her asshole whilst simultaneously lowering her onto Josh’s waiting cock below.


Annabel braced her hands against Alastair’s thighs as her luscious lips formed a perfect circle and then enveloped his bell end.






Through closed eyes, Annabel could see bright flashes as someone in the room – probably Helen – saved this pornographic act for prosperity. That was the least of her concerns as she was currently being overwhelmed by a multitude of conflicting sensations. She still felt slightly nauseous, and each time Barclay’s swollen glans prodded against the back of her throat, she had to fight the urge to gag. Meanwhile, below and behind her, Josh and Trent had filled her up to overflowing with their rock-hard penises. She could feel them both throbbing inside her, separated only by her thin dividing vaginal wall.


Trent had his hands on her breasts, adding to the assault on her senses by roughly pinching her sore nipples. To add to her confusion, Josh was rubbing her clitoris with her thumb, and her super-sensitive body was responding with compound interest!


With the three men pressed up so closely, she began to feel a little claustrophobic and tried to pull her face away from Barclay’s groin, but he had a hand clamped firmly behind her neck, keeping her tightly locked in the vulgar four-way embrace.


As her passion built, a little voice started up in her head, and Annabel recognized it through its pompous, self-assured, condescending tone, as her own.


What have you become? You are having sex with three men at the same time in front of an audience! People you have known for years! When this is all over, you will never be able to face them again. And even if you do start over somewhere new, they will still have these memories of you. In their minds, you will forever remain Annabel, the dirty whore!


Even as her former self put her to shame, Annabel’s disobedient, libidinous body took total control, and she ground her crotch deep onto Josh’s shaft, and at the same time, squeezed her sphincter around Trent’s embedded cock, while allowing Barclay’s rod deeper into her throat.


Trent lost it first, tugging hard on Annabel’s nipples as his seed exploded into her rectum. Feeling his hot rush, Annabel quivered with the first pulses of her own orgasm. Above her, Barclay moaned and Annabel snorted through her nostrils as she received another viscous salvo straight down her esophagus.


Squealing like a stuck pig, Annabel felt her climax sweeping through her, and seconds later she accepted Josh’s sticky deposit up into her womb. They jerked and groaned together before Annabel’s knees finally buckled and she allowed Barclay’s dick to slip out of her mouth before collapsing forward so that she was sandwiched between the two younger men.


Exhausted, she lay between them, feeling their hearts pounding on either side of her sticky, sweaty body. As her euphoria subsided, she heard Bobby say, “Dear God, and to think that I was once planning on marrying that slut!”


Eventually, Trent peeled his naked body off Annabel’s back, his semi-hard member retreating form her abused back-end with a rude plopping sound. With some effort, Josh then pushed Annabel off him and she rolled like a rag-doll onto her side.


Helen said, “Annabel? Can you stand?”


Annabel kept her eyes closed and didn’t answer.


“She’s totally out of it,” Josh said, his own voice unsteady after his exertions.


Completely spent, Annabel was more than willing to let them think she had passed out. She knew that her filthy, smelly, naked body was on full view but she was beyond caring. Her lust temporarily sated, all of her muscles ached, her feet were killing her, and her asshole and pussy were raw. She placed her hands on her tender breasts and feeling the stickiness there, impulsively said, “I want a shower.”


“Yes, you do look a bit of a mess,” Helen said. “I’ve got a better idea. Guys, why don’t you take Annabel outside for a refreshing swim?”


“Okay,” Trent said. “Just give me a minute to get my legs back. This bitch goes off like a jackhammer!”


Annabel was actually just drifting off when she felt hands under her armpits and knees. Then she was floating as they carried her out to the backyard. The evening air cooled her skin as they crossed the patio, and she opened her eyes and looked up at the night sky.


The warm glow of after-sex and alcohol dissipated quickly as they began to swing her back and forth, and the queasiness in her stomach returned with a vengeance as the stars blurred above her.


“One, two, three!”


Annabel was suddenly airborne, spinning and disoriented, and then came the deafening, cold shock as she hit the water. In an instant she was sober, water rushing up her nose as she attempted to get her bearings. With a deep, hoarse gulp, she broke the surface, spluttering and coughing.


Her tormentors were all lined up at the edge of the pool, laughing at her. Her mind suddenly sharp again, the full impact of what she had just done hit her like a brick. Bobby’s hurtful words came back to remind her of all that she had sacrificed in order to keep her inheritance. Despairingly, she realized that he was right. She had become the lowest of the low. Even a street hooker carried herself with more dignity.


Now the all-conquering Helen, her arm lovingly around Bobby’s waist, said, “I hope that’s revived you, Annabel, because Samantha wants to give you a caning for insulting her earlier.”


Go To Chapter Ninety Five
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