washout
By VeryWeird

Chapter One.

Joanne was dead. Unless she could find a solution to her latest problem, her life insurance was about to become a good investment. At 5 ft 8 inches, with the looks of a top model, long glossy brown hair and a body that was a teenager's wet dream, Joanne did not look like she had a probable life span of mere days. Unfortunately, her recent addiction to gambling and a really prolonged losing streak had put her in massive debt to a loan shark who had a reputation for making permanent "examples" of defaulters. Unless she came up with $15,000 in two days time she was doomed. Ironically, she had enough money coming to her from advances on a book and video deal that she had signed to be able to cover her debts easily, but the money was due only in three weeks time.

Standing, outside her publisher's office, she knew that her last chance of reaching old age lay behind the polished teak door that bore a brass plaque that read "Nichole Foster". Joanne knew that Nichole, her publisher, disliked her intensely. Oddly enough, Nichole's hostility was what gave her hope. She knocked and went in.

"Nichole, I need my money now . . . today!" she said, sticking out her hand as if expecting the woman to drop a bundle of cash in her palm.

"No can do, Joanne," replied Nichole, frowning. They had just signed the contract last night and there had been no ambiguity as to when any payments were due. "You will get your money when the package hits the stores . . . "

"I know what our agreement says," interrupted Joanne. "I want you to give me a special advance. Call it a loan if you want."

Nichole rubbed her brow in puzzlement. Theirs was a purely business relationship, and the last thing that she expected was for Joanne to ask - demand even - a favour. "What . . . ?" she began.

Joanne held up her hand, cutting Nichole off once again. Looking her straight in the eye, she said, "I want to make you an offer, Nichole. A once in a lifetime chance."

"I'm listening," replied Nichole, ever the businesswoman.

"I know that you dislike me . . . "

"True."

"In fact, someone told me that you once described me as a filthy cunt!"

"No comment," said Nichole cautiously.

"I also know that you are a lesbian," continued Joanne.

"That is not much of a secret! If you think that you can blackmail-" began Nichole angrily.

Joanne shook her head. "I am not trying to blackmail you, Nichole. I only brought that up because I think that my . . . um, 'offer' will interest you because of your . . . you know, tastes."

"I already have a girlfriend, and I don't need more sex on the side."

Joanne took a deep breath, sighed, then took the plunge. She had to make this sale if she wanted to continue breathing. "Nichole," she began nervously, "how, um . . . how would you like the chance to hurt me?"

"Huh?" exclaimed Nichole, confused by the turn in the conversation.

"I mean hurt me physically. T- torture me . . . " Joanne's tongue tripped over that word. "You called me a filthy cunt. I am offering you the opportunity to hurt my . . . my vagina." She went on, grimacing at her sudden attack of prudishness.

"Just your vagina? Are you being specific or are you talking about your genitals in general?" asked Nichole sardonically, arching her eyebrow. She did not understand what Joanne was up to, but she found it amusing enough to play along for the time being.

Joanne tossed her head in irritation. "Not just my vagina! The whole thing! My inner and outer labia, my clitoris, my vagina and my urethra. There! Is that graphic enough for you?"

"Again, why just your genitals? Why not your breasts, your buttocks or anywhere else?"

"That should be obvious, Nichole. I cannot risk having bruises or scars on parts of my body that would prevent me from modeling or performing. Turning up with a damaged body would void my contract. However, I am not scheduled to do any crotch shots as part of the current deal, so as long as you limit yourself to the area covered by a g-string, there is no problem."

"You are serious!" said Nichole in amazement. The idea of torturing Joanne's pussy was extremely appealing, and the money was not a problem as she knew that Joanne's book and video package would be a hit. However, she decided to toy with her a bit more.

"You are the one trying to sell the deal, Joanne. Make me a specific offer. Tell me exactly what you propose!" demanded Nichole, grinning.

Joanne had been prepared for this. She knew that her offer had to be sufficiently evil to perk Nichole's interest and yet not so severe as to require immediate emergency medical treatment. She thought that she had found just the thing.

"Since you find my . . . cunt . . . so dirty, I thought that you would appreciate the opportunity to use . . . this!" she said, pulling an object from her handbag.

At first, Nichole could not make out the identity of the white, fuzzy object that Joanne was presenting to her, as it had become a little twisted in the bag. Then she realized what Joanne was offering and her laughter filled the room as she twirled the large wire-handled bottle washer with her fingers.

Chapter Two

The two women were alone in the office. Nichole had sent her secretary out on an errand and had locked the doors.

"Tell me again. I just love hearing you talk!" teased Nichole.

Joanne gritted her teeth, holding back the anger that could get her killed. "Alright. Here is the deal. I will take off my skirt and panties and for one hour I will keep my legs spread wide apart and let you use the bottle washer in any way you wish, on or in my pussy. If you tell me to, I will help you by spreading apart the lips of my sex, or expose any part of it in particular that you want to play with. OK?"

"Deal!" cried Nichole. "Your time starts . . . now!" she announced, pointing at her wall clock.

Joanne unhooked her skirt without being told, pulling it down around her ankles along with her panties. Her experience as a model made the chore of baring her lower body in front of an audience much easier. Neatly folding her clothes out of habit, she set them aside before moving to stand squarely in front of Nichole, who was seated expectantly on a chair in the middle of the room.

"Shall I keep my heels on?" she asked.

"Yes. I want to admire those fine legs."

Joanne placed her legs about two feet apart, presenting her cleanly shaved pubis for Nichole's inspection. "Is this position what you want?" she asked. In her mind, she had decided to treat Nichole as just another demanding photographer who was able to afford her high fees for doing "adult" poses.

"A little wider."

"OK," she responded, shuffling her feet another foot apart.

"Show me some pink, Joanne."

The model obediently reached down with her right hand and spread her plump outer lips apart with her index and middle finger, exposing the "pink" of her inner labia, matched nicely by the perfect red of her nail polish.

"Both hands."

Without needing to think, Joanne brought her left hand down between her legs as well and used only the index finger of each hand to spread open her sex. She automatically swiveled her hips forward to give the best view of her inner sex to Nichole. Joanne had always been somewhat exhibitionistic and the rude pose excited her, causing her red, crinkled labia to unfurl and stand out boldly. This ability had served her immensely as her pussy photographed well, making her popular with the men's magazines.

"Good. Hold that pose," instructed Nichole, bringing the bristles of the bottle washer up to touch the down hanging labia. She pushed the brush forward between Joanne's legs, until the bare wire handle just touched her sex lips. Slowly, she drew the brush back towards herself, running the white nylon bristles over Joanne's sex flesh.

Although the harsh touch of the brush was a sharp irritation on her sensitive labia, Joanne had no trouble holding her pose.

"No, that isn't what I want. Pull back on the top a bit more. I want a good shot at your clit."

Joanne's fingers moved as directed, drawing the protective hood of flesh up and away from the shiny pink jewel of her clitoris. Despite this, the tiny bud was not very prominent. Doing her best to please Nichole she asked, "Would you like me to bring it up a bit?"

Nichole nodded, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. It had been a long time since she had had any direct contact with the models like this and it was turning her on knowing that this was all for her benefit and not just work.

Nodding, the model began to gently rub the tip of one finger around her clit, concentrating on the feeling that her own touch gave her. The pink bud of her clit began to stiffen and rise under her knowledgeable finger. Soon, she had brought herself to a firm erection. She stopped rubbing, knowing that further stimulation would cause her clit to retract instead of grow. "Ready," she announced.

Nichole now brought the bristles around to the front of Joanne's sex. With gradually increasing speed, she began stroking the brush up and down across the tip of the model's helplessly exposed clitoris.

The intense sensation quickly became painful, as the bristles rasped over her clit, first one way then the other. For a moment her will power failed her as her hips involuntarily moved back, away from the stinging bite of the brush.

"Hold your pose!" demanded Nichole sharply.

"Sorry," replied Joanne, quickly resuming her pose and bringing her clit back into contact with the brush.

In retaliation for Joanne's failure, Nichole pressed the brush more firmly against the model's flesh, drawing it up and down several times in quick succession. The model gasped in pain, the muscles of her beautiful thighs quivering with the effort to keep her legs wide apart in spite of the rough treatment of her clitoris and labia.

For another ten minutes, Nichole scrubbed the model's widespread sex , until the skin had become raw and badly abraded. Despite the pain, Joanne had shown the intense discipline and willpower that had made her a top "adult" model and had continued to beautifully expose her sex to the other woman's merciless attention.

Finally, Nichole stopped. With mocking consideration, she said, "You look a bit untidy. Here! Why don't you clean yourself up a bit with these."

She handed Joanne a tub of wet tissues, which were soaked in cologne. Gratefully , the model dabbed at her brow and upper lip, which had become shiny from the strain of "posing".

"There, too." said Nichole casually, nodding at Joanne's pussy, knowing that the alcohol would burn the sore and skin badly.

Joanne closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage to perform the painful act that Nichole had demanded. Knowing that this was what the woman wanted to see, she took a fresh, wet tissue from the box, then resumed her widespread pose in front of Nichole. Once again she spread her lips wide apart, taking care to expose her clitoris as well. With a deliberate motion, she pressed the tissue against her swollen sex.

For a second, she only felt a cool tingling as the alcohol kissed her flesh. Then, it was as if her sex had caught fire! Her knees wobbled from the pain as her thighs automatically squeezed shut on her hand in reflexive, if futile, protection of her vulnerable sex. As the fire continued to burn her labia and clit, Joanne sank to her knees, gasping.

"That's enough relaxation, Joanne. Back to work!"

Nichole dragged two heavy coffee tables into the middle of the room, setting them two feet apart. "Lets try this now . . . " she announced.

Joanne knew without being told the pose required of her. Climbing up on the tables, she placed one foot on each, straddling the gap between them. Once in place, she squatted down, her knees wide apart, giving Nichole, who had seated herself on the floor, a perfect view of her vaginal opening.

"I will be kind and give you three minutes to get ready," said Nichole, waving the bottle washer mockingly.

"Thank you," replied Joanne gratefully. Her thanks were real, as Nichole had given her the chance to prepare her vagina for the terrible intrusion that was about to be inflicted on it. Without wasting a second, Joanne began frantically masturbating, trying to stimulate the flow of her natural lubricants and to widen the opening of her hole. As soon as she could manage, she slid two, then three and finally four fingers into her vagina, twisting her digits to stretch the red, glistening opening as much as she could. No thought of shame crossed her mind as she worked her hand in and out of her cunt in front of the laughing woman.

"Are we ready?" asked Nichole with mock impatience.

Joanne nodded, as she drew her fingers out of the mouth of her vagina. Out of habit, she spread the shiny sex juices over her inner thighs where the shiny streaks would show up clearly under the studio lights. "Shall I spread from the back?" she asked. In her squatting pose, the photographers usually preferred that she spread open her sex by reaching around the outside and under her thighs, so that her arms and hands would not hide her breasts or her pussy.

"Yes, that would be nice," said Nichole, admiring the wide open view of the model's genitals that her pose presented.

"Ready?" she asked after a moment.

"Go ahead," replied Joanne, her fingers digging into her flesh in anticipation of what was to come.

Nichole presented the tip of the brush to the gaping mouth of Joanne's vagina. Twisting her wrist, she began to wriggle the white nylon into the waiting sheath. Although there was some pain, the fact that the bristles were forced downwards along the shaft of the brush like the branches of a pine tree loaded with snow allowed the brush to slide up into her vagina without too much friction. Joanne could feel the brush make its way up into the depths of her body, consummating this most unusual of sex acts.

Unfortunately for Joanne, the brush did not only have bristles that stuck out perpendicular to the shaft, but a bunch that were set pointing straight up at the tip. When the brush finally reached the end of her passage, these bristles hit her cervix like a bunch of plastic needles. For the first time, she let out a moan of pain as Nichole repeatedly jabbed the brush against the opening of her womb.

"I don't like your expression. Lets have a smile. You just love having this wonderful thing in your cunt! Some enthusiasm please!" taunted Nichole in time to the movements of her wrist. "You asked me to use this on you, after all!"

Joanne nodded, bowing her head to hide her sobs of pain. Mustering all her skill, experience and willpower, she plastered a wide, toothy smile on her face as she looked up at Nichole.

"That's better!" said Nichole, jabbing at the model's cervix again "Now tell me how good it feels!"

"Oh, that feels sooo good! I just love it when you jab the bottom of my vagina like that!" she declared in a low, sexy voice, spoiled only by the catch of her breath as the bristles bit into her with each thrust of Nichole's wrist.

Nichole began to vary her movements, turning the brush around its axis. Strangely enough, this actually felt quite good to Joanne, as compared to anything else that she had been subjected to so far. Seeing Joanne's relief, she decided to go onto the final stage of the game.

"Well! I think that we should do this properly, don't you Joanne?" she asked brightly. She looked into the eyes of the suffering model and waited.

Joanne knew what Nichole wanted to hear. The ultimate bit of suffering that she had so willingly asked for.

"Nichole, I want my cunt to be nice and clean so that I can show it off to everyone. Please help me," she asked, as if borrowing a cup of sugar.

"Of course dear! What can I do to help?"

"Would you please scrub my filthy cunt out for me?" she said, "Here! Let me open it up nicely for you to work on!"

With a smile that looked a bit more like a snarl, Nichole pulled down on the handle of the brush. Since the bristles were all pointing towards the opening of her vagina, every plastic point stuck into the walls of her vaginal passage, scraping along the sensitive tube like a fistful of needles. No amount of self control could prevent Joanne from screaming as the brush ripped at the insides of her cunt. The agony caused her inner muscles to clamp down reflexively, which only served to narrow her passage and increase her pain. The cunt was sufficiently lubricated to allow the brush to be drawn out without much damage. A silvery flow of Joanne's cunt juices flowed out of her sex to drip on the carpet as the first bristles popped out of her hole.

Nichole reversed the stroke, plunging the brush in to jab at Joanne's cervix once more. This time, when the brush was drawn out, it abraded the delicate inner walls much more, as the lubricating juices had been scraped away with the first stroke.

Joanne was panting in agony now, although she had still not moved from her obscene pose.

A third stroke, then a fourth. The tips of the bristles now were pink with the tiny drops of blood coming from the badly scratched vaginal walls. Drops of blood stained the carpet below her loins. Twice more, Nichole scrubbed the inside of the suffering model's sex. Then, she pushed the reddened brush in one last time and released the handle.

"I have been doing all the work here, Joanne. Why don't you do the last one?"

Looking down between her widespread thighs, Joanne gripped the handle of the brush firmly in her hand. Bracing herself, she tensed in preparation for the terrible pain that she was about to inflict on herself. Before she could do it, Nichole inflicted one last demand on her.

"This is the money shot, Joanne, so remember to smile and to thank me nicely for helping you!"

Joanne drew herself up proudly, tossing her hair back. She brought up that fabulous smile one last time. "T-thank you, Nichole," she purred as she tore the brush out of her bleeding cunt.

"And that's a wrap!" cried Nichole as the clock announced the end of the session. Humming happily, she sat down at her desk to write out Joanne's checque.

THE END

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