Marla Ch. 02


The Second Chapter – Piss

The click-clack of Marla’s heels upon the cracked tiled floor echoed through the dank corridor. The decaying surroundings in which Marla found herself contrasted incongruously with the elegant evening gown and delicate make-up worn by the woman. Whereas Marla was presented near perfect, the building possessed a dilapidated air of abandonment and decay. The walls were adorned with graffiti, some ancient some new. Odd bits of rubbish were strewn haphazardly along the corridors, bits of wood, remnants of shattered windows, and, bizarrely, an androgynous shop window mannequin.

Marla surveyed the crumbling setting, taking a quick glance at the forlorn nakedness of the dummy, “Armand,” she murmured quietly as though to speak loudly might disturb some lurking sprite and invoke some kind of pernicious visitation. “This place is awful, it’s a ruin.”

“Yes it is,” Armand agreed. “Isn’t it perfect?” His smile was like a knife.

“For what?” The tone of her voice echoed her fear.

“The contrast between you and this place,” Armand paused and indicated Marla’s form with a sweep of his hand. “You, my dear,” he grinned again. “You are exquisite, a work of art no less, whereas here-” another sweep of the hand, this time indicating the decrepit area around the pair. “This place is rotten.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You entered this place unspoiled,” Armand explained. “You will leave it utterly ruined. Used, corrupted, debased.” He paused, savouring the flavour of his words. “Tainted,” he ended.

The words curled like a lupine tongue through Marla’s cunt as arousal displaced fear. “You filthy bastard,” Marla groaned. “What do you have in mind?”

Armand laughed in reply, and then without answering, led Marla along the corridor, leaving the mannequin staring blankly after them.

The original building had been constructed during the Victorian era. It had begun as a small hospital and, having survived the Second World War, had grown by the burgeoning influence of the welfare state, with further wings and wards added at the whim of NHS bureaucrats. Then, inevitably, it fell upon hard times until — in the 1990’s — it was abandoned in favour of a newer, more modern, less efficient, soulless place of healing.

Ringed by mesh fencing, and with windows and doors boarded, the place then fell victim to the underclasses, the unseen and unwashed that inhabit the cracks in society. The once pristine walls and floors defiled by spray paint, needles and used condoms. The proud façade had crumbled, once proud now a wreck, like Miss Haversham from Dickensian lore.

Armand led Marla down a staircase; she could hear the drip, drip of water and soon found herself walking through a stygian level, stepping around murky puddles as she went. Eventually Armand pushed open a door. It opened with noisy, creaking reluctance, voicing displeasure at the ache in its arthritic hinges.

Marla stepped beyond and into a large room, a surgical ward no less in former times. How the mighty have fallen. Marla surveyed the site, the ubiquitous graffiti daubing the walls and the same detritus scattered around the floor. On the level above the storefront dummy was the oddity, whereas here a supermarket trolley was the curiosity. Who brings this shit in here, and why?, Marla thought.

“Here we are,” Armand said.

The difference between this room and the rest of the abandoned structure was that temporary lighting had been set up. Battery powered and silent the several units starkly illuminated a single mattress in a circle of bright light, throwing the corners of the room into deep shadow.

Marla noticed a movement from a corner and turned her head in time to see a man appear from the gloom. Then more movement and another man appeared, followed by another, and then one more. Marla stopped counting at eight. It was academic by then, however many appeared she would let them do whatever they were going to do.

Where do I draw the line? Marla shrugged inwardly. Let’s face it, Marla, you love it. It’s dirty and disgusting and you’re hooked. Escort Bayan She broke off her internal monologue to ask, “Is that all of them?”

Armand laughed, “Would it make any difference?” he asked as though he’d read Marla’s thoughts.

“No,” hissed Marla as the warmth between her legs spread suddenly; the fire of her lust igniting.

“As I said,” Armand murmured, “you’ll leave here totally spoiled. You won’t be able to bathe; you’ll have their semen in your hair, smeared over your body… The taste of them will be on your tongue, the stuff will be dripping from your rectum…” He watched Marla carefully, gauging her reaction.

“Oh dear god…” Marla groaned as she pictured her future self in her mind’s eye. The image of her skin smeared with come, her hair, so carefully coiffed at present, a ragged mess of rat’s tails…

Armand judged her mood correctly. “Come to her,” he commanded, and as one, the men crept forward, an inexorable tide of desire.

One person remained hidden however. The Watcher wasn’t yet ready to reveal herself. She wanted to watch Marla being used, she was patient, and she would have her fun. Later.

Marla surrendered herself to the pack. Physical resistance was useless, even if she’d had the inclination, the hounds had been let slip, and she was the prey. Hands reached for her. Eager fingers tore at her dress and the garment was yanked up over her head and discarded. Then, the delicate brassiere and matching thong were ripped from her body. There was a collective and appreciative intake of breath from the men when Marla’s voluptuous curves were revealed to their hungry stares. She heard one or two mutters of approval before the hands once again reached out to her.

Marla felt her body mauled and pawed. Her breasts were massaged and squeezed; her legs were forced apart to allow fingers to probe at the sopping lips of her shaven sex. Marla tottered on her heeled shoes and almost fell as one man, bolder than the rest, pulled her face to his, his fingers tight in her hair, as he pushed his tongue into Marla’s mouth.

Marla didn’t remain upright for many more seconds. She was almost thrown onto the grubby mattress and immediately felt erect cocks at her mouth and pussy. As she opened her mouth to accommodate the first man orally while she felt a simultaneous invasion below.

She mumbled her approval around a mouthful of cock as her lovers began to pump into her at both ends.

“She’s turning out to be the consummate harlot.”

Armand smiled at the Watcher’s words. “She is indeed,” he replied.

“You’ve done well,” the Watcher murmured; her voice rough and ragged with lust. “I want you to take me from behind while I watch the slut being used.”

“Of course, madam,” Armand consented, “always a pleasure.”

The Watcher, platinum blonde to Marla’s raven colouring, wearing the black leather corset, stockings, boots and haughty expression of a dominatrix, offered her peach rear to Armand. The man held his erection steady with one hand and guided the thing between the Watcher’s labia. He pushed, felt the barest resistance, and sank deep into her with a sigh.

“Delightful as ever, Armand,” the watcher hissed as she looked back over one shoulder at her lover. “Thick and hard as iron, now…” The Watcher turned her attention back to the debauched scene on the mattress. “Fuck that big thing into me.”

Armand dug his fingers into his employer’s hips and humped at her with canine eagerness. He observed beyond the Watcher’s head and saw Marla being fucked by an enthusiastic black man. The tide mark of Marla’s yearning was clearly visible on the man’s shaft when he pulled the length of his cock almost clear of her body. The sheen of Marla’s juice glinted under the glare of the spotlights, coating the ebony shaft with its lubricant and easing the slide of the piston in and out.

Marla’s moans and squeals echoed around the room as her excitement grew. “Fuck me you big bastard,” she grunted lewdly before pulling another penis onto her tongue.

The Watcher sawed at her clitoris Bayan Escort while she witnessed the first spurts of semen arc onto Marla’s face.

“Armand…” the Watcher moaned. “I want you to pump your seed into me. I’m going to cream pie the slut… Oh… Oh fuck… I — adore — this. It’s so… It’s so fucking bad.”

The Watcher groaned and jerked as her climax rippled, slowly at first, and then with a roar from her core and along her limbs to the tips of her toes and fingers. Through half closed eyes she watched as Marla crouched over a supine man. The man held his erection steady and Marla lowered herself onto the upright stalk.

“In my arse,” Marla grunted. “I want it right in my arse.” She groaned and squealed again as the dome butted against the tight ring of her sphincter. Marla gritted her teeth against the burn as the invading thing forced her anus open. The lust quelled any inclination to avoid the stinging in her rectum as finally, the man eased the shaft into Marla’s dirty-hole. “Another!” Marla yelled. “One of you in my cunt.”

Her request was quickly fulfilled. Then another man all but silenced Marla’s barbaric grunting by pushing himself between her lips and fucking her mouth. Marla gagged and spat as the length of the man slid along her gullet. Her chin was covered with drool when, following her recovery, Marla slurped at the penis between her lips.

And so the scene continued. Marla was fucked, used, and thoroughly abused for over forty minutes. Sometimes all three holes were filled at once, other times men pulled her into positions to suit themselves as they used her singly.

Armand fucked into the Watcher periodically, usually as the woman herself commanded, but on occasion he would turn to her and use her for his own gratification — they had that kind of relationship.

“Remember, you’re going to fill me with your come,” the Watcher reminded Armand.

“As if I could forget,” he responded and leaned over her back and cupped the woman’s breasts in his palms.

The Watcher twisted her torso, keeping Armand inside her from behind; she turned and leaned her face to him. “Kiss me,” she urged, “kiss me and fuck me… You’re such a delicious fucker.”

“Your wish, madam…” Armand held her tightly and licked and slurped at her tongue. “I fear,” he said almost formally, “I fear I’m going to come…”

“Do it,” the Watcher acquiesced.”

Armand hissed and grimaced when he finally allowed himself the luxury of orgasm. It was a rare occasion that the Watcher allowed him to come inside her, Armand savoured every occurrence.

Meanwhile Marla had enjoyed several intense climaxes of her own, as well as having several deliveries of semen spattered across her body, spunk dribbled from her vagina and anus, her hair hung with thick ropes of the stuff, and her skin was liberally coated.

There was barely an inch of her not covered with goo of some description. Rivulets trickled along Marla’s flanks, down the slopes of her breasts, while her belly button was an oasis of sticky gloop. Her thighs were slick with a combination of several loads of seed and her own juice. The tattered remnants of her stockings were smeared and the mattress wet with stains.

Marla’s eyes shone with delight at the extreme foulness of her behaviour. The feeling of liberation she experienced was intense. She may have been an object of male lust, but she had made the choice. Without her agreement none of this would have taken place. She had allowed them access to her body. Marla felt that she owned the power. She had excited these men; she had turned them from — in all probability — normal, decent citizens, and had made them animals. However, if Marla thought that she had reached the limit of her depravity, then she was mistaken.

Armand appeared, with his now diminished penis back inside his trousers. He surveyed the debauchery.

“Piss on her,” he said simply.

“What..?” Marla cried too late.

Two men, followed by a third, moved. Before Marla could react she felt the jets of urine splash over her breasts.

A Escort fourth man aimed and let fly with a great arc of piss, and then another man followed suit.

Excellent, thought the Watcher. She truly is a slut.

Astonished by the sudden turn of events, Marla didn’t really know what was happening when the first sprays hit her, but then, as more streams of piss showered down on her, Marla experienced a moment of ecstasy.

“Nasty,” she squealed. “Piss… You nasty, dirty, cunts…” Then even as she moved to open her legs she continued, “Piss on my twat, piss on my pussy.”

Marla held the lips of her sex open with her fingertips. The hot, scarlet of her opening was a target now and Marla squealed in delight as the streams of urine spattered against her clitoris.

The mattress became a urine soaked marsh as the apparently never-ending streams splashed onto her skin and ran in rivers over her body. Marla thrilled to the sensation of the hot liquid showering her breasts, her areolae tightened like never before, and her nipples ached with renewed lust.

Marla writhed and the mattress squelched beneath her as she pushed two, then three fingers into the clench of her pussy. She rubbed at her clitoris in a frenzy of fingering, eventually climaxing with noisy echoes as, one by one, the streams subsided and died.

At a signal from Armand the men exited, leaving Marla writhing on her bed of filth.

“Hello, Marla.”

Marla opened her eyes at the sound of the woman’s voice. “Who..?” She stuttered, unable to process another surprise. Who was this woman? On one level Marla recognised how attractive the woman was. Lithe figured, long-legged in those slutty boots, pretty, elfin face, and tight tits with the rigid nipples peeping over the cups of the bustier.

Anastasia, the-no-longer-watcher, smiled. “You’ll get to know me, Marla.” She approached the supine woman. “But now, one more thing — one more, nasty, filthy thing.”

“Oh god… What?”

“Armand’s come. I want you to lick it from my body. I want you to drink it from me.”

The moment stretched; a chewing-gum strand of elastic time. “Who..?” Marla repeated.

“Later,” soothed Anastasia. “Later you and I will sit together and I’ll explain it all, but now…” Anastasia knelt on the sodden mattress and kissed Marla’s cheek. “Now I want you to suck my cunt and taste Armand from me.” Anastasia stared into Marla’s eyes. “Will you do it?”

Marla whispered, “Yes.”

Anastasia straddled Marla’s head and pushed her sex onto the woman’s mouth. “Suck me,” she commanded, no longer the gentle creature she had just portrayed. “Lick my clit, tongue my hole, and drink his come.”

Marla dabbed an expeditionary tongue at Anastasia’s body. After the first tentative licks however Marla’s excitement burned hot once more and she began to slurp with energy and exuberance. The trickle of Armand’s semen slid from the blonde’s opening, a dribble that Marla sucked at with relish.

Armand stood in mute amazement and watched. It was all he could do.

“Yes, my filthy little wench,” Anastasia groaned. “Lick me, make me come.” She looked at Armand, her eyes shining. “Look at her, Armand. Look at her drinking your come. She’s perfect.”

Then Anastasia let out a howl of delight, a sound that reverberated through the disused corridors and long-abandoned wards of the old hospital. She sighed and sobbed as her climax boiled, and then, in a final act of depravity, she let go with a stream of piss that squirted onto Marla’s face.

Marla opened her mouth and allowed the jet to spurt onto her tongue. She felt her mouth fill quickly with the hot fluid straight from the blonde woman’s bladder. Marla spat the stuff in a high spray, like spume from a whale’s blow-hole, a mist of piss, and then opened her mouth to take more. She drank some of the stuff and finally sat up when Anastasia rolled from atop her. Marla let one final mouthful dribble from between her lips, the liquid running in a river down over her magnificent breasts from where it dripped onto her thighs and stained the mattress further.

Anastasia kissed Marla on the mouth, her tongue exploring deep, tasting the residue of Armand’s semen and her own pee. “Now, my spoiled darling,” Anastasia muttered. “Come home with us. Let’s discuss what games we can play next.”

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