“You thought I was kidding about the beer bottle, didn’t you, bitch?”
I shook my head “no”, but I don’t think he really cared if I though he was kidding or not.
“Hope you’re wet.”
With his thumb and forefinger, he spread my pussy lips, and pressed the bottom of that cold bottle against my opening. I made an involuntary squeak — the bottle was painfully cold!
Holding it by the neck, he angled it to one side, so that the bottom edge could poke into me like a wedge. He rubbed it up and down between my lips a little, moving the coldness to a new spot every couple of seconds. He was steadily pushing it harder against me, and starting to focus on the entrance to my pussy. He stopped sliding it around, and increased the pressure. As I’d done earlier tonight with my ass, I was now trying to relax my pussy.
“Yeah, there you go, let it in.”
He spun it a little as he worked it into me. The bottom of the bottle wasn’t totally smooth, it had little bumps or ridges, and I could feel each one as they rubbed against the sensitive opening. I felt my pussy being stretched open, and as Garvey pushed a little harder, the entire bottom of the bottle slid into me.
“Ok, bitch, looks like your twat is wide enough. Let’s see if it’s deep enough.”
He pushed it in another inch or two, and I gasped at the chilling sensation. First my tits and now my pussy — what was it with this guy and cold? He kept pushing, and I moaned into my ball-gag as the hard, icy bottle invaded the depths of my soft opening. The metal walls of the bottle were doing a great job of conveying the cold into my wet, and previously warm, pussy.
He stopped with the wide part of the bottle about half-way in, then pulled it all the way out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness, and lack of the coldness I had just been getting used to. He wasn’t done, though, just teasing me I guess, because a few seconds later he worked it back in. It was easier this time, as I was still stretched, but the expression on his face made it clear he was enjoying inserting it into me again.
This time he didn’t stop at the half-way point. Slow and steady, he kept pushing it in until my pussy held the entire length of the wide section. I felt the cold radiating through my pelvis, stinging at first and then slowly becoming a little numb.
“I think you can take more,” he said. He was breathing fast, and his dick looked rock-hard. Once again he took the time to give it a few strokes with his other hand. He resumed pushing, and didn’t stop until I screamed into the ball-gag as the bottle encountered what had to be noticeable resistance to further progress.
“Look at that.” He motioned Damon over for a closer look. There was pride in his voice as he said, “Got it in there far enough her pussy can close around the neck of this beer.”
He looked at me, and said, “You want to see it sticking out of your slutty cunt?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, as he let go of the bottle and came around to where he could grab a handful of my hair, and use it to roughly tilt my head up off the bed. I looked down, and could just barely see the short length of the neck of the bottle that still protruded from my pussy. It did look and even feel like the entrance to my pussy had contracted down to grip the bottle’s narrow neck.
“Hey, I only had a few swigs — she’s got more beer in her than I do in me.” He laughed like he’d told the best joke ever, and Damon responded with a laugh that was clearly just out of politeness.
He let go of my hair, and I lay my head back down on the bed. Garvey grabbed the neck of the bottle, and moved it around in circles, churning the body of the bottle around in my pussy. It was an interesting sensation, and maybe it was just because I was feeling pretty damned slutty, but the little bit of pain and discomfort just made me even more excited. I wondered if he was going to at least fuck me with it a little bit, or was just going to wiggle it around in me.
Apparently just stuffing it up me was enough for him, because after a few more slow circles with the top of the bottle, he pulled it out. At least he did it slowly.
The beer bottle was just the warmup — although it had been far from warm — and as I’d feared, he was anxious to move on to the champagne bottle.
The beer bottle had actually gotten me excited enough, and loosened me up enough that I was kind of curious to see how far my wet pussy would let him get, even though I knew it wasn’t going to fit. Yes, I’m aware that when sexy pain get’s me into “slut mode”, it just makes me want more sexy pain. That’s one of the reasons Eric was concerned that I have some good pre-defined rules that applied to my parties.
At least it’s not cold, I thought, as he pressed the wide bottom edge of the bottle between my pussy lips, just the way he had started with the beer bottle. He rubbed it up and down before centering it on the opening between my lips.
Damon said, “Here, at least add some lube.” He handed a bottle of lube to Garvey, as he rolled his eyes, which I saw but Garvey didn’t. I couldn’t decide if I appreciated him making sure things were plenty slippery, or if I was annoyed that he was prolonging things by humoring the guy.
Garvey squirted lube on my pussy, and on the bottom of the bottle, then replaced the bottle between my legs and got back to trying to work it into me. He wasn’t a complete idiot, so he realized that if it had any chance of working, he needed to give my pussy time to relax and stretch. He maintained a constant pressure, not hard enough to actually hurt, but firm enough to let my hoo ha know that something was trying to fit inside, and it should do its expanding thing.
After a minute or two, he actually had what felt like almost half of the circumference of the bottle’s bottom wedged inside me. Getting impatient, he started pulling on the opposite pussy lip, and pressing a little harder. I yelled into the ball-gag, which startled him, and he let up for second, but quickly resumed with possibly even more effort.
This sequence repeated a few more times over the next couple of minutes, with him pulling and prying, me yelling when he pulled or pushed too hard, and a disappointing amount of progress being made, judging by the expression on his face.
Damon said, “Uh, Garvey, that’s just not going to fit.”
Garvey set his jaw, and maintained, “I’ve seen pictures.”
“Ok, yeah, I’m sure you have. But Tawny here has a nice tight little pussy. I’m surprised you were able fit that beer bottle up her. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that the girl who can take a champagne bottle in her snatch, and the girl who can squeeze your dick with it are two different girls.”
Yeah, and I’m the second kind, asshole! I’m freaking religious in my devotion to doing my Kegels, and it’s paid off. Even guys with smaller than average cocks find me plenty tight. Sure, even a well-toned vagina can expand, but not this much. At least mine doesn’t.
Garvey frowned, shook his head in resignation, and set down the bottle of champagne. He glanced over at the wine bottles on bar, which, while smaller than the champagne bottle, were still noticeable bigger than that beer bottle. For a minute, I thought he’d set his sights on that lesser goal, but then he looked away and admitted defeat.
“Well,” he said, “I wanted to fuck her anyway.”
Now that made sense. His dick had been hard the entire time he’d been sticking, and trying to stick, bottles in me. Let’s use my pussy for what it’s good at.
He climbed on top of me, and said, “Always wanted to fuck a tied-up girl.”
He thrust into my well-lubricated pussy in one easy thrust.
“Damn, feels like warm velvet.”
His cock was nice and hard, and I loved having something soft — at least relative to a beer bottle — and warm in me, and I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of him sliding his cock in and out, fast and hard. As excited as he clearly was, I didn’t expect him to last long enough to get me to my orgasm, and sadly I was correct. I’d barely started down that road when he groaned, pressed hard into me, and I felt his cock pulsing as he came in me. He collapsed on top of me, and lay there letting his cock get soft, before he pulled out and got off the bed. He seemed like the type of guy who lost all interest in sex moments after they come, not even sparing a glance at the hot, naked, tied down, and just-fucked girl as he quickly got dressed.
Damon at least waited until the guy had his pants zipped up before he said, “So, can we count on you using Roped Up as your sole supplier?”
“Oh, yes,” said Garvey enthusiastically. “I really had fun, she’s an amazing little slut.”
“That’s great,” said Damon. “I’m very glad our little bonus here helped you make your decision.”
“Yeah. But still a lot of things I didn’t have a chance to do with her,” he said, a note of disappointment in his voice.
Garvey continued, “I’d like to talk to you about that.” His eyes quickly darted to me, back to Damon, and then he nodded towards the suite’s living room. Damon nodded in understanding, and together they walked out of the bedroom. I could hear them talking quietly, but only caught a few words here and there, like “clamps”, “senior staff”, and “this wide”.
❖ ❖ ❖
I heard the door close, and Damon strode back in to the bedroom. I looked at him quizzically.
“That was nothing you need to worry about,” Damon said, replying to my unspoken question. “Suffice it to say that he told me he wanted to do a lot more with you than he got to do tonight, and have some of his even more-imaginative cohorts join in. He also seemed to feel limited by not having any, quote, ‘proper toys’ available this time.”
I squinted at him, trying to look as skeptical as a girl can look with a ball-gag in her mouth.
“Oh, I told him I’d think about it,” he said with a wry grin. “Never tell the customer ‘no’.”
“But,” he assured me, “he is not getting his wish. Even just a few of the things he mentioned wanting to do would make tonight’s little stunts seem like nothing more than practice.”
He frowned, and added, “I know your rules, and we’ve had too much fun with you at our parties, and are going to get too much new business due to your talents, to jeopardize our relationship.”
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