I felt a tug on my right hand and allowed it to be pressed against Mark's throbbing cock. I slid my palm downwards and cupped his balls, scratching my nails against them as I did so. Then I felt someone grab my left hand and pull it towards my pussy. The implication was clear, and I began to stroke myself, rubbing my index finger up and down between my swollen lips, gathering up strands of my moisture and coating my fingers in it. I knew that as I did this my Master and Andrea would be watching, watching me play with myself shamelessly while attending to the two men, and this excited me even more. To know that they were sitting opposite me, looking on as I plunged my fingers into my hot hole confirmed my subjugation to their will.

I felt hands roughly grab at my breast. They were male, I think, so it must have been my Master but, with my head buried in John's lap, sucking his cock down my throat, I couldn't see what was happening behind me. The hand kneaded my breast, twisting my nipple painfully and squeezing me hard, while the other hand rasped over the rest of my body, the harshness of its contact thrilling and exhilerating. From the other side I felt someone else grab me: this must be Andrea. She, too, took a firm grip of my breast and squeezed hard, as though attempting to milk me. He long fingernails gripped my nipple and tweaked it; the pain was excruciating and it was all I could do not to yell out. With a mouthful of John's cock that would have been problematic, I thought.

Andrea's left hand wormed its way down my body and roamed over my uptilted arse, sliding down the crevice towards my hole. Only an hour ago I was across her knee, being soundly spanked: it seemed an age ago. Indeed this whole day had taken on an ethereal glow, seemingly endless, eternal. I could scarcely remember a time when I wasn't a slave girl, at the beck and call of my master and his companions, and yet it had been a matter of mere hours. Her hand worked its way down to my pussy and I gasped as I felt her thrust a couple of fingers inside me. She pressed herself up and down inside me, working her fingers deeper and deeper within my aching pussy. Withdrawing it, I felt her fingers work back up my arse again and press against my exposed arsehole. Too late I realised what she was doing.

My Master had let go of my breast now, and I felt him slide up close behind me. I could feel his skin against mine, and knew he must have removed his clothes. His cock made contact with me, its hot and hard length brushing against my arse and pussy. He pressed it to me, rubbing it against my slit, gathering up my juices, lubricating it, but making no effort to penetrate me. I knew why.

Only seldom had my Master fucked me up the arse. I had enjoyed it, but found it somewhat painful, so I knew what to expect as I felt my Master's prick pushing against me. I took John's cock out of my mouth and concentrated instead on licking his balls and perineum: I was worried that if I kept it in my mouth, with my Master pounding into my arse, I would inadvertently bite the damned thing off. Typical Harriet: even in the midsts of an impending orgy I think practically. John, however, didn't seem to mind, and lifted himself slightly off the settee to allow me to reach my tongue further towards his hole. He was hot and sweaty, and I was shocked and thrilled to be doing this to someone to whom I had never previously offered so much as a chaste kiss.

I relaxed myself as much as I could and tried to allow my Master access. He continued to press and gradually I felt his cock breach my arsehole and slide tentatively in. My Master was gentle, knowing I wasn't used to this, and didn't force his way, but strived to ease himself into me as tenderly as possible. The lubrication he had picked up from my pussy helped and he began to pump out a steady rhythm, at first very slow and deliberate, allowing me to get used to the sensation, then picking up speed gradually, and becoming more and more forceful. Andrea's hand was on my pussy, frigging my clit and stroking my pussy lips, her nails dragging deliciously against them, and my Master was beating an insistent tattoo inside my arse; the sensations were exquisite, painful and pleasurable in equal measure.

I was getting seriously aroused, and enjoying anal intercourse in a way I had never imagined. How far you have come in one night Harriet, I thought. Could you have picture this scene when you awoke this morning? Could you have believed that you would be doing this? That you would allow yourself to be made to do this? And that you would enjoy it? Enjoy being used in this way? This morning, in the cold light of normality, another typical day about to commence, it would have been inconceivable. And now...

Just then, and to my great disappointment, my Master pulled out of me. I needn't have worried: it was a temporary respite while the furniture, as it were, was rearranged.