Slut Rules

I was following all my “Slut Rules”… and nothing was happening! I didn’t know what to do. I was just a beginner, and I was very much alone with this.

I had read this article on line, on a “misogyny” website, and I found it intoxicating, just incredibly exciting, so much so that I basically couldn’t resist following the directions. It was an article written by men who hate women, but this article was intended for women! I was the target audience!

The article included a series of directions on “How to Be a Slut,” and I was committed to following them.

So I was doing everything just as the article prescribed, and something was supposed to happen to me… I had even printed up all the “Slut Rules” and posted them on the walls of my living room and kitchen, where I could see them all the time, every day. I had memorized all of them, internalized all of them, and it had become second nature for me to follow them. Every night I would go out to the roughest dive bars and do exactly what the signs instructed… but no one paid any attention to me!

Okay so finally I figured out that all the bars in my area are not “rough” anymore, in any real sense. The whole area is gentrified: there is no longer a “bad side of town” around here.

So I posted a detailed report of my experiences on the website’s forum, and someone suggested that I might have to drive out of town and go to more of a “hick” bar in a smaller town where my “unladylike” appearance and behavior would at least be more noticeable, and hopefully draw more attention.

Well, I had heard a long time ago that there was a meth lab in a certain area, and it was a pretty big deal, and it was near enough to a certain small town. So even though i didn’t know any of the bars there, and it was a three hour drive, I decided to go there. Actually I googled the area and found a bar that was not even in the town but along a highway very near town but not in it. One yelp review called it a “biker bar” and implied that it was “very sketchy.” The reviewer said “don’t go there at night…” so i went!

I decided that I would go late at night so I ended up not leaving my house until 8pm and I didn’t get there until after 11. I might have gone on a Friday or Saturday, but I just couldn’t wait.

When I got there, there were a few guys at the bar close to the entrance, but there were a few guys who were more loud and drunk at a table in the back. The table was pretty close to the bar, and I decided that if I sat at the very back of the bar I would be only about ten feet from their table, and that’s where I wanted to be.

I had a shot of Jameson’s for courage, and then another because I needed a little more courage, and also I had a plan to get drunk and to stay until closing if I needed to. I wore a clingy, strappy red dress which barely covered my ass, but I had on black garters which could be seen, plainly, below the hemline. So even when I was standing you could see a sliver of my very pale thighs between my hem and stockings, and of course the garters themselves clipped onto the stockings, and when I walked on my red 3″ heels, or when I sat on the bar stool, of course a lot more was visible, and of course according to my “Slut Rules” I am not allowed to wear panties. My pussy would be on full display if I spread my legs. The dress would not cover it. And that is what my “Slut Rules” required me to do.

So that’s what I did. After my two shots, I swiveled around in my seat, faced the guys at the table, shut my eyes, and opened my legs.

I was afraid to open my eyes for a few minutes. But I could hear them talking… not every word, but most of the louder words. “Check out that fuckin’ whore” is the first thing I heard. Some laughing and some whispering, and then I think I heard one of them say “I can see her pee hole” and then a burst of laughter, and I definitely felt my face turning a darker shade of red with the pure humiliation of it, but then I heard one guy scoot his chair back and stand up, and I knew he was approaching me, so I opened my eyes. According to my slut rules I am supposed to look him straight in the eyes and open my legs wider. Even though I was almost paralyzed with humiliation, something inside of me was present and in charge, and I knew I had to follow all the rules. I had driven three hours for this.

So there he was: a tall, red haired, lanky guy with a mustache, no beard but whiskery. I looked him right in his eyes, which were blue. He had a big, sarcastic smile, and he glanced down at my pussy as I spread wider and scooted forward on the stool. I tried to smile but I couldn’t. I’m sure he could see how scared I was. But also, It was more than obvious he didn’t care how I felt.

“Lady,” he said. “Did you know that we can smell your pussy from all the way over at our table?”

I sat there silently, unable to respond. I was red as a beet. Of all the things he could have said, this was the last thing I would have expected. I started to close my legs.

“Nope,” he said, motioning with his hands to leave my legs open. He took a step closer to me, standing in between my legs so I couldn’t close them. I looked up and noticed everyone in the bar was staring at us… not that many people, but maybe six others plus the five from his group. “Barkeep! Bring me a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps!” He raised his right hand above his head and snapped his fingers. “And grab that bar towel for me!”

I was looking at his whiskery face with his sarcastic smile. His expression was one of pure amusement, and unquestioning self-confidence. I felt like I was in a movie. I could tell he was some kind of criminal, or something. Everyone was looking at us, and it didn’t bother him a bit. I felt like I better do what he said. I was too scared and too embarrassed to think about anything, even sex. It was just all, all of a sudden happening, and happening very fast. This was what I had fantasized about for years, but it didn’t feel like a dream come true, It didn’t feel fun. It felt very scary, but I could also feel my pussy flooding, and I was worried he could actually smell it.

And in fact, as the bartender quickly grabbed the bottle and towel, my red-haired Devil put his hand between my legs and shoved his middle finger up inside me.

He didn’t finger fuck me at all, he just swiped it around a bit and kind of scooped some of my wetness. “You are wet as fuck, you pervert,” he said, then he held his finger to his nose. “Oh My God!” he yelled. Everyone in the bar could hear him. “Your fuckin’ twat smells like bad cheese! Don’t you ever wash yourself, you skanky sewer slut?!”

As the bartender set the bottle of peppermint schnapps and the white towel on the bar near my shoulder, everyone seemed to be moving in closer. I was so wet. I’m generally wet whenever I’m even thinking about sex, but I was really drenched between my legs. I think my whole bush was soaked, which doesn’t even make sense, but I swear that’s how it felt. And I really believed my red-haired Devil could smell it.

He looked at me, and said sort of quietly, just to me “You really want to get fucked, don’t you?” He said it just to me but by now people were circling in close, and probably many of them could hear. “Don’t you?” He repeated.

I whispered “yes.”

“Speak up!” he yelled in my face, grabbing me by the hair. He turned my face towards our audience. “If you really wanna get fucked, you gotta say so!”

Facing the small, all male crowd, I said “I want to get fucked.” But I said it way too quietly.

“I can’t hear you!” my red-haired tormentor intoned loudly and sarcastically. “If you want everyone here to fuck you, you gotta say it so everyone here can hear you!”

I hesitated, and the expression on his faced changed, as if something had occurred to him. “Wait,” he said. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “say it loud and clear, but only say it if you really mean it. Do you really mean it?” He asked. “Do you really want to be fucked by all these guys?”

“Uh-huh,” I affirmed, shyly.

“I knew it, you dirty little pig.”

Then he looked back up at our audience: “This slut wandered in here dressed like this, sat down with her naked ass on our barstool, then wheeled around and spread her legs for all the guys at my table to see her ugly stank-twat. She’s the fuckin’ whore of Babylon, and she smells like she’s been fucking dogs all day! Oh good, that’s right, let’s get this action on our phones.” Some of the guys had their phone cameras pointed at me. “This bitch obviously deserves whatever she gets. But! But, my friends, it gets worse. He leaned down to me and asked quietly “what’s your name?”

“Jan” I said.

“Jan here fuckin’ wants it. I think she seriously wants this. Jan here fuckin’ wants whatever the fuck happens to her tonight. Don’t you, Jan?”

This was a terrible, amazing moment for me. I was suddenly pretty sure that I could stop this if I just said no and started crying and struggling. I don’t think everyone in this bar would have raped me, and now it was too public for it to be safe for them to do it anyway. Rape is a crime, and I didn’t think all these people knew each other. So it was really a strange moment, and I was stuck in my head, confused, with everybody staring at me.

“What do you want, Jan?” my red-haired abuser asked me matter of factly. “Do you want this?”

“Yes” I said meekly.

“It would be better if you spoke up a bit, Jan. And please speak in complete sentences!”

“Yes I want this” I said just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What do you want, Jan?”

“I want to be fucked!”

“Where do you want to be fucked, Jan?”

“Anywhere you want.” I started to get a little more able to speak. I started to like being asked these questions. “Anywhere you want to fucking drag me!”

“Oh you want us to drag you around?”

“Sure” I said.

“Like in the parking lot?”

“Yes in the parking lot!”

“Wouldn’t that hurt, if we dragged you around in the parking lot? You basically have nothing covering your tush!” My red-haired abuser seemed to be enjoying himself. Our audience was laughing too, although some were pretty visibly disgusted. I still had my legs spread wide, and everyone was staring, and I was soaking wet.

“So you don’t mind if you get hurt? You would surely get hurt being dragged around the parking lot by your hair, scraping your ass against all the jagged concrete and gravel and so on, right? Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t mind it?”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care, or you want it, Jan. Be honest.”

“I want it.”

“You want to be hurt?”

I was quiet for a few beats. I wanted to say yes… of course i did, I’ve been waiting my whole life for this, but also it was very scary, although somehow I was not halted entirely by the fear or the humiliation, although I felt them both intensely. But the blushing, and also the mortal fear, were also somehow adding to the crazy thrill for me, and the thrill was definitely, and dizzyingly, sexual. Not only were my whole vulva and pubic area sopping wet like a mop, but I noticed myself involuntarily grinding my hips a little, lifting my exposed pussy up off the stool. I was fully leaning back on the bar with my weight on my elbows, by ass crack on the edge of the round, padded stool (which was soaking wet and probably glistening), my red pumps locked in the cross-bar of the stool, and lifting my ass off the seat slightly as I made involuntary grinding motions, pushing my dirty nasty pussy up towards everybody who could see it.

And looking up I noticed they were taking videos of it, of my grinding pussy as I held it aloft, videos that had my face in them too and would almost surely be posted on the internet. I was becoming very fond of the idea of letting them all fuck me. But I wanted more than fucking. If you’ve looked much at my uploaded pictures or read my stories, you must have an idea of where my mind goes when I am this worked up.

So i was hesitating, terrified to admit to this crowd of strange men that I not only wanted a good gang-fucking, but that I also wanted, desperately, to be hurt as well. I could barely say it. But then I remembered the “Slut Rule” that I always have to be honest. And that decided it. I have always been a rule-follower.

So I finally spoke up, and answered my red-haired Devil. At first all i could say, meekly, was “yes.”

“Yes what?” He snapped.

“Yes I want to be hurt.” My heart sank into my stomach, my whole body blushed crimson, my nipples stiffened into hard little nubs, and of course, my pussy flooded freshly and copiously, so that I believe I could feel it dripping onto the floor in front of the bar stool. And my upwards thrusting/grinding motions went into a kind of hyperdrive.

A huge smile came over my red-haired Devil’s face, and he looked right at me, right at my eyes. I could feel him looking right into me, but he spoke loudly, so that everyone in the bar could hear it. “You are the most disgusting little pig, and I bet you want us to hurt your disgusting little piggy body, don’t you?”

“Yes”

“Say it! Say it so that everyone can hear you!”

“I am a disgusting pig. A piggy slut, that’s what I am. That’s all I am. And what I want, all I really want, is for you guys to, um… what I really want, is, um, if you want to, is for you to hurt my body. I just want you guys to fuck me and rape me, and to really, if you want I mean really to hurt me, everywhere. Really hurt me, if you want.”

Red haired Devil laughed fiendishly as he pulled my shoulder straps down and flipped open the cups of my bra and dress, uncovering my small breasts with my swollen, protruding nipples. He gave one of them a quick pinch. “You want us to hurt these nubbins, right?”

“Yes.”

He slapped my face, which felt like an electric explosion, the sting just radiating the erotic sensations towards my nerve endings, while the shame of being treated like a subhuman whore hit me in the core of me being. I wanted to be slapped again.

“Yes what?!” he demanded.

“Yes I want you to hurt. Um, I want all of you to hurt my breasts. Please hurt my breasts.” I could barely breathe.

Then he grabbed my legs up off the stool, both with one arm, and he used the other arm to slam his palm into my nude fanny. It was just a spank, but again it felt like electricity exploding and I could feel an awakening of the whole area, including the little vortex of my anus, and all I wanted was to be spanked and whipped there so brutally that the skin of my pudenda would be peeled right off.

“Where else do you want us to hurt you?”

“My ass. Please hurt my ass, everybody, please please please hurt my fat piggy ass so hard!’ I was squirming around in his arms, but I let him put me back down on the stool to get some balance. But then, with my legs still pulled up high and the small of my back resting against the barstool, he reached down with his free hand, the one that he had spanked me with a moment before, and spread my ass cheeks to reveal my dirty, stinky asshole to the crowd. I don’t know how dirty and stinky it actually was, but it was certainly sloppy and wet from all the pussy juice that had leaked into it.

Well, now it was on view.

“I bet you like being fucked up the ass, Jan. Right?”

“Yes” I said.

“But does fucking your anus really count as hurting it, technically?” Be honest, Jan.

“No no no… please fuck it, fuck my ass, but yes, don’t just fuck it. Please, as he says, “fucking it” doesn’t count… please hurt it, hurt it! HURT MY FUCKING ASSHOLE! REALLY HURT IT!”

“Oh, I think we might have hit a live wire!” said my red Devil. “Jan, you are obviously a depraved little piggy, who never washes and by the smell of it fucks dogs all day and doesn’t ever shower or douche afterwards, but honestly, are you hoping that these guys will hold your ass cheeks apart just to do terrible, painful things to the outside, and maybe even deep inside, your stinky little asshole?”

I was somewhat taken aback by this, and brought back to the reality of how much this was likely to hurt. Having the eleven men rape me would, I think, be fun, even if it might leave me a little banged up. But I had no idea what they would do to my asshole. Would they punch-fuck it? Would they shove rocks in it? Would they burn it with cigarettes? But all these thoughts made me more excited, not less, and I thought of a scene from one of my collected drawings, one I really like, in which someone gets a glowing hot metal rod forced up her ass. I have fantasized about such a thing happening to me so many times I can’t count. I’m not sure that I’d ever want to really realize this fantasy, but right then the thought of giving my ass up for whatever painful things the worst of them dared to do to me, and to tell them so, to put my “most private place” on offer not only for gentle penetration but for rough fucking and deliberate hurting, was really exactly what I was wanting right then. It felt like the ultimate surrender, and just the anticipation of explicitly offering myself to these men in that way was making me grind relentlessly at the empty air. And they were all witnessing this.

“Hurt it, yes, yes. Please, please, my anus is for hurting, hurting, please.
I want it so much!!”

The room fell silent, but only for a few seconds. “I see” said my red-haired Devil. “And i can smell by the stench of your smoking twat. Which reminds me. You probably like your twat to be roughed up too I imagine. You are a nasty little pig, and I bet your insatiable little stink-twat is what drives you to these depths, isn’t it. So if I were you, I guess I’d be pretty darn mad at my own vagina: firstly that it stinks, secondly that it leaks like a broken faucet, and thirdly that it must be the very exact part of your pathetic anatomy which drives you to do all this. Am i right?”

“Yes,” I admitted meekly.

“Come on, say it loud enough so everyone can hear!”

“Yes, it’s my disgusting, smelly wet pussy. It’s my pussy that drives me to want these things, want them so much that here I am. Here I am, asking for it. I am a slave of my evil, needy pussy.”

“Yes, I thought as much. Hmm. So, I suppose you will want us to punish your disgusting, leaky, smelly, evil pussy. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes please, yesssss.” I started hyperventilating.

“We should really just do anything we want to this evil pussy of yours, right? We should really teach it a lesson. Am i right?

Yessss, teach it a lesson.” I was so excited by this thought that I couldn’t get my breath back.

“Go ahead bitch. hyperventilate until you pass out. We don’t care. This sounds like a “no limits” agreement on pussy torture, isn’t it?”

Again, this felt like a crossroads that I did not have to pass. I could have said no. I waited until I got my breath back, as my red haired Devil hovered above me, snickering.

“No limits” I said.