Our bodies change as we hit middle-age, with bumps splodging out and heading south, and while I know I can still turn heads, and my fiancé thinks I'm gorgeous, I'm a size 10 and my body is pretty nifty for over fifty, my middle-aged body just isn't as firm as it used to be. The idea of being body-shamed by younger, prettier women is something I fantasize about, as is my sexuality being seen as an amusement by younger men, especially my daughter's ex-boyfriend. I love the idea of being the whole world to my fiancé and an objectified fuck-pig to men who fuck me while holding me in contempt for being their owned desperate slut. This story explores some of these themes. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do fantasizing about it! xxx

*****

I: A little bit of background.

II: From texting to sexting while on the train to Cambridge.

III: Presenting myself as a trashy middle-aged slut for my two young stud muffins.

IV: Behaving like a middle-aged slut while out for a meal out with my two young stud muffins.

V: My humiliation at the Six Bells.

VI: Itty-bitty-titty taser torture.

VI: Middle-aged fuck-meat, literally!

VII: Filming the fuck-meat.

***

I: A little bit of background.

A few weeks ago, I had to travel to Cambridge to do a piece of consultancy work and as my son's friend 'Mr C' only lives an hour away, I texted him and I had a lovely meal out with Mr C and his friend 'Popeye'.

Now the thing is, while we've known each other for years in a sort of surrogate mother-son relationship, there are aspects of each other that we really don't know. For example, while Mr C is always respectful and pleasant whenever we meet up, I know he has a darker side that enjoys comedians like Frankie Boyle, which really shocked me by its ugliness when I watched it with my fiancé one night when Mr C had left the DVD at our house:

"What's the difference between football and rape? Women don't like football."

"I live in a flat with 3 women, I call it surround sound. I keep the ugly one behind the sofa as a woofer."

"What sounds better the more you beat it? My wife, 'cos she shuts the fuck up."

"What do you tell a woman with two black eyes? Nothin'! You told her twice already!"

"My Gran said to me, "Young men of today just aren't as polite and charming as they were when I was young". I had to explain, "That's because they aren't trying to fuck you now."

"A 66-year-old woman has become the oldest new mum in Britain after giving birth to a baby boy. I'm amazed she needed to have a caesarean section though, you'd think at 66 she would have needed some masking tape down there just to stop it falling out."

Now, I'm in my frisky fifties and after watching Mr C's DVD I began to wonder if Mr C ever thinks or talks about me the way those comedians talk about women; so disrespectful and full of contempt.

Whilst in real life I have an adoring and respectful fiancé, I love the idea of being the respectable career woman, mother and partner in one part of my life and Mr C's objectified middle-aged fuck-toy in the other. The hate and contempt towards women in those jokes has such a visceral power that really makes my pussy tingle.

That's what I didn't know about Mr C. The thing Mr C doesn't know about me is a quirky little thing I did for a while when he used to date my daughter (and before I met my current fiancé). It began one morning while I was gathering the dirty washing to put a load on before work. I was in my daughter's bedroom stripping their bed wearing my red work sweater which has ¾ length sleeves. I had pulled the sheets off and was carrying them down to the washer in a big bundle when I felt a cold goo drip on my wrist. I felt it slide down the bare flesh of my fore-arm and peering over the bundle of bedding, I saw a glistening trail meandering over the rounded flesh of my smooth forearm down to a pool of Mr C's cold cum collecting between my sweater sleeve and the bare flesh of my fore-arm.

I dumped the bedding in the washer and yanked my dirty sweater over my head to add it to the washing when I got a strong waft of Mr C's deliciously musky spunk. Spunk has such an intimate and personal scent and instead of wiping Mr C's cum off my arm with some kitchen roll, I stood in my kitchen in just my bra and work pants and actually licked Mr C's cum off my naked arm. I even found the sleeve of my sweater with the cum stain on it and sucked it clean with one hand down my pants, desperately stroking my clitoris. I can still remember the slimy texture giving way to the harsh brittle feel of cotton against my tongue as Mr C's cum slid off the sweater and down my throat.

All that day my pussy tingled at the memory of what I had done. It felt so kinky tasting Mr C's cum in my mouth all morning. It wasn't that I was attracted to Mr C, at 22 he was more than half my age. It was somehow linked to his general indifference to all the things I did for him while he visited my daughter. It was incredibly arousing to think that Mr C knew it was bed change day and had deliberately left his cum for me to have to clean up. The idea of Mr C just expecting me to clean up his cum after accepting my hospitality with indifference and then fucking my daughter, as though it was my duty to be his cum sponge was somehow thrillingly humiliating. When Mr C made love to my daughter, she excited him sexually; his cum was intimately, lovingly and sensually given and received... and then just left as a discarded by-product. The thrill of being so desperate that I embraced the humiliation of lapping up Mr C's discarded cum as my favourite sexual indulgence always made me wet.

The fact that as far as I knew, Mr C didn't even acknowledge me as a sexual being, made it even more arousing as if he saw my role as simply to clean up his cum. I'm not saying Mr C had any of these thoughts, in fact I doubt he even cared whether I had to touch his cum or not as long as their bed was beautifully made as usual. But when I found his Frankie Boyle DVD, it did make me wonder! After all, Mr C is always so polite and charming and as Frankie Boyle points out; "My Gran said to me, "Young men of today just aren't as polite and charming as they were when I was young". I had to explain, "That's because they aren't trying to fuck you now." Maybe Mr C was trying to fuck me!

Over the next few months I began searching their bedding for fresh loads of cum and I was always aroused whenever I managed to find a globule of cum left for me to clean up. I even searched his dirty boxer shorts in the hope he had cum inside them. It became almost an obsession when I did chance on a fresh pool of his musky spunk and I'd wear it inside my panties, my pussy tingling at the feel of his slimy wetness all day at my desk, or when I was too randy to wait, I would rush to my bedroom, pull out my favourite vibrator and use Mr C's spunk as lubricant for my desperate pussy and then scoop his spunk into my mouth with a finger while I climaxed imagining what Mr C would think of me if he knew I slurped up his cum like a desperate middle-aged slut.

So, for a period of time, while Mr C and my daughter lived with me, I was Mr C's secret cum thirsty mom-in-law. Although on the surface, Mr C and I were always polite and respectful to each other, I sometimes would hear Mr C fucking my daughter in the other room, and hearing how much pleasure the young stud muffin was giving her, I would stroke my desperate divorced pussy imagining our house with Mr C as 'Head of Household' treating my daughter with loving respect, while he began treating me as his desperate 'cum sponge', ignoring and denying me sexually but finding it hilarious that I was such a sexually desperate middle-aged slut that I begged hm to feed me his cum. Although I stopped lapping my daughter's boyfriend's cum when I started dating my current fiancé (the day he asked me out actually) I still love the idea of Mr C gloating as he finds out how I loved licking up his cum.

So, those two things combined; my secret past of licking up my daughter's boyfriend's cum for a few months and his enjoyment of misogynist comedy, led me to enjoy a naughty fantasy of being humiliated and objectified when I met up with 'Mr C' and 'Popeye' a few weeks ago and how things might have developed. So, here's what didn't happen but what I enjoy fantasizing did happen; Like I said, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy imagining it, and I especially hope Mr C reads it and thinks of me. Not that I'm brave enough to ever admit it's me! LOL!

II: From texting to sexting while on the train to Cambridge:

I carried my travel bag onto the train carriage, shoved it into the luggage rack and found my reserved seat at a table opposite two middle-aged business men. I gave them both a polite smile in acknowledgement, pulled my laptop from its case and sat down, so excited and desperate to text my son's friend Mr C, as I travelled towards him.

'Hi Mr C. I'm in Cambridge for a couple of days if you fancy meeting up for a meal? I'm travelling by train so if you do the transport, the meals my treat. Xxx'

Having sent the text, I turned on my laptop and focused on my report, not expecting Mr C to reply for a while, as my train was an early morning one.

Ping! I excitedly checked my phone:

'Yeah, cool.'

Mr C's casual indifference to my offering to pay for his meal, and his replying to my fawning kissy text without any kisses from him, was so piggy it made my pussy tingle at the idea of him seeing my affection and generosity as an inconvenience. The idea of matching Mr C's indifference with extra effort on my part to flatter and please him, practically begging my son's friend to notice me as a desperate middle-aged slut he could use as he pleased; well, if he chose too, had my pussy tingling already.

But how to let him know that without risking destroying the surrogate mom-son relationship we had established over decades?

'That's great news, Mr C! I can't wait until I see you. I'm shaking with anticipation. Xxx' I sent, hoping to give Mr C a peek at how tingly and desperate I was for him. It wasn't a dirty text, but definitely held a hint of naughtiness to it, that I really hoped he would pick up on.

But no such luck. All I got was a practical 'When?'

Damn! We knew each other so well as pesky surrogate mom and son that it was difficult to get too flirty, so I tried a bit of flattery, plus a question to show my interest in him, as well as basically just desperately trying to just keep the young hunk texting me:

'I'll get to my hotel about five, but will need a bit of time to make myself beautiful. Is seven okay with you, Mr C? How is my favourite young man doing today? Xxx'

'Which hotel? Yup I'm gud.'

All my flattery and kisses and hints seemed to be falling on deaf ears. He hadn't even cared enough to ask how I was. His disregard made me desperate to try harder to please the young stud muffin and make him notice me, so I tried playing the ditz on top:

'Oh, so sorry Mr C, of course you need to know where I'm staying if we're to meet up! I'm at the Talbot Hotel in Ledbury. I really hope that's not too far out of your way! As soon as I realized we could meet up I haven't been able to stop thinking about you after that. Xxx'

I doubted if Mr C would care that once his ex-girlfriend's mom started thinking about him, she couldn't stop, but I figured he might at least enjoy the ego boost, plus it was making my pussy tingle acting so inappropriately like a desperate floozy towards my daughter's ex-boyfriend.

'Pick u up at 7:30 with Popeye.'

Popeye was Mr C's housemate; a lovely young, black gentleman. As Mr C hadn't seemed to have picked up on any of my hints, I tried being a little more direct:

'Thanks Mr C. Can't wait for my hot date with my two young men! LOL. Xxx'

Sitting opposite the two business men at my table in the train carriage, I tried to look all professional and decent, but I couldn't concentrate on my report for clenching my thighs and enjoying the squirmy wetness in my panties at the idea of playing such a slut for my daughter's ex-boyfriend.

After about fifteen minutes I realized Mr C wasn't going to text back. I hadn't asked a question, and the date was arranged so I supposed there was no need for him to reply, but I was desperate to continue playing the horny middle-aged slut, so I typed;

'Don't tire yourself out too much today, Mr C. We might have a big night planned! Xxx' and cringed as I reread it. That had to be one of the most flirty texts I could send to my daughter's ex-boyfriend, but at the same time I figured it could be read as totally innocent. It felt deliciously naughty to imagine Mr C guessing whether I might have something naughty planned or if I was just being playful about having a meal together. I really hoped I had managed to create a bit of anticipation and the idea of Mr C considering me as an available middle-aged slut had me discreetly unzipping my work pants, right there at the table, so I could slide a hand inside my damp panties and relieve the frustrated tingle in my pussy. The two business men opposite thankfully seemed oblivious to what a total slut the suited business woman opposite was being.

'Eh, how?' Mr C replied. So much for building the anticipation, Mr C had called it straight away.

I typed one-handed, feeling desperate and horny with my other hand in my panties swirling round my swollen clit. I worded a text that I hoped might be a sultry way of letting him know that I was desperate for things to get a little more physical without putting any pressure or commitment on him, after all I had no idea if Mr C was dating, or was even interested in fucking his ex-girlfriend's mom.

'I like our relationship, but how would you feel about adding a few benefits. xxx?'

'?'

Hmmm, a man of few words, I thought as I brought myself nearer and nearer to my orgasm.

'Just wandering 'cos texting you makes me feel so good. Xxx' I sent, trying to avoid any committal text, while at the same time loving the idea of Mr C feeling good knowing I'm enjoying his conversation. If only he knew how much! I thought, giggling to myself.

'Wot benefits?'

Oomph! I was stumped. Mr C had called me straight out on my flirty insinuations. I had just potentially made this real, and what I sent next might change everything forever. Did I tell him the truth; that I was sitting on a train with my pants unzipped and my hand down my panties as I desperately stroked my swollen clit, wanting to beg to be his objectified middle-aged fuck-toy, or did I back off pretending it was just me being a bit perky and flirty and enjoying getting my girl on for once?

The thought of backing off gave me such a feeling of sagging disappointment and emptiness that right then and there I knew what I so desperately needed. I wriggled down behind my laptop screen and stroked my desperate clit fast and hard, bringing myself closer and closer to orgasm at the thrill of sacrificing my dignity to offer myself as a middle-aged fuck-toy to my daughter's ex-boyfriend.

'Favourite type of underwear on a woman, Mr C? xxx' I sent, desperately stroking myself at the idea of my clothing being at the whim of my daughter's ex-boyfriend.

'Commando. Why?'

'Why' was a very reasonable question; why would a middle-aged woman you'd known all your life as your friend's mom and later as your girlfriend's mom ask what your favourite type of underwear on a woman might be? Perhaps because she was a desperate middle-aged slut!

Mr C's question seemed to throw into relief just how unnatural my desire to be Mr C's middle-aged fuck-toy really was, but then what sort of a woman actually gets turned on licking up her daughter's boyfriend's cum? Um... me! I thought, smiling luxuriously at the memory of the young hunk's musky, salty taste as I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the pleasure my fingers

Mr C's 'why' was also yet another way out; another chance to retain my dignity and stay within the safe boundaries of our surrogate mom-son relationship. All I had to type was something innocuous like 'just wandering, Mr C! xxx' and even then, it would probably leave him guessing what I had on under my skirt this evening. But that wasn't enough to satiate my desperate need to subjugate myself to my daughter's ex-boyfriend. The more inappropriately slutty I was towards Mr C, the closer I came to climaxing on my frantic fingers.

Instead I typed;

'I'm typing one-handed 'cos my other hand is down my panties right now, but I promise I'll be totally bare under my skirt tonight, in the hope you two young stud muffins might enjoy me more like that. Is that okay with you, Mr C? Xxx'

I read the text back without sending it, my fingers sliding in and out of my ridiculously aroused and sloppy pussy. I was scared the sloppy sounds and my scent of arousal might reach the two men opposite me but really, I was past caring, revelling in behaving like such a slut in response to my daughter's ex-boyfriend. I loved acting the desperate middle-aged slut, and imagining Mr C's shocked expression.

Just what would he think of the strait-laced friendly and respectable middle-aged Ally he knew, who usually chatted over a cuppa or acted at hostess at family parties, openly confessing she was sitting on a train, with a hand down her panties while she openly offered herself to her daughter's ex-boyfriend?

Hopefully he was stroking that big, hard cock that had pleasured my daughter so many times, as he thought about having his ex-girlfriend's mom as his willing sex-slave. The thought made me giggle indulgently again; if only!

I certainly sounded desperate enough to please, promising to go commando because that was Mr C's expressed preference just on the off-chance he might enjoy it. No, it was even sluttier than that; I was promising to expose my most intimate parts in public to two young men practically half my age. How could Mr C have anything but contempt for me if I was obviously desperate to be such a slut for him?

The whole idea of offering myself for Mr C and his friend was driving me wild; my fingers were incredibly sloppy and slimy; I was so aroused. I whirled them around my swollen clitoris. It wasn't even the idea of becoming Mr C's objectified middle-aged slut that was driving me wild, it was the desperate sacrificing of my dignity unasked to Mr C.

Even if he just laughed in response, I knew I would orgasm at the fact Mr C knew me as a sexually desperate middle-aged slut as opposed to the surrogate mom and professional business woman he had always known. The idea of Mr C's next text sending me over the edge of orgasm, whatever he sent, felt as if Mr C had control of my orgasms, and it was that idea that made me, in my desperately aroused state, press send.

I kept rereading my text as I kept myself near the point of orgasm and half eagerly, half dreading repeatedly checked my phone for Mr C's answer:

'I'm typing one-handed 'cos my other hand is down my panties right now, but I promise I'll be totally bare under my skirt tonight, in the hope you and Popeye might enjoy that? Xxx'

What a totally desperate slut! I thought as I kept stroking myself inside my panties.

When the text finally did come in, the ping made me nearly leap out of my skin.

'LOL. Woteva Ally. U been drinking?'

I climaxed right there and then in my seat on the train, opposite the two business-men, stifling a moan by biting my bottom lip, and clenching and unclenching my thighs like crazy as my pussy sent spasm after spasm of pleasure through my body.

I had disclosed the fact I was masturbating while texting Mr C, promised not to wear panties when I met him as a subjugation to his preferences and his response was to laugh! Not just to laugh, but to laugh and dismiss my offer of sexual subjugation with a simple 'woteva'. My blatantly offered sexuality seemed nothing but an amusement to Mr C and that drove me over the edge to a delicious body-racking orgasm. It was the side of Mr C that enjoyed Frankie Boyle getting sadistic pleasure out of mocking my sexual subjugation as I tried so desperately to please him that finally made me climax.
Once the waves of pleasure had gradually subsided and my pussy was left tingly and wet in my soaked panties, I zipped up my pants as discreetly as possible, hoping the business men opposite wouldn't notice my flushed face and neck, and wiping my slimy fingers with a wipe from my handbag, I reread Mr C's text with a little more composure;

'LOL. Woteva Ally. U been drinking?'

The connotations that had brought me to climax were my own, I realized. Mr C's 'LOL' was most likely a defence from not knowing how to respond to receiving such an openly slutty text from his ex-girlfriend's mom. The 'woteva' was then placing the responsibility for my slutty behaviour squarely on me; Mr C had not texted or responded inappropriately at all.

The same wariness seemed in Mr C basically questioning my mental capacity through inebriation. To be honest, it seemed a fair question. What had made a middle-aged woman Mr C had known all his life suddenly text him like some kind of slutty freak? Was I a middle-aged slutty freak? Have other middle-aged women enjoyed tasting their daughter's boyfriend's cum? If not, their loss! I giggled again. I could put that period down to the stress of divorce, but not my actions now; these were simply the actions of a desperate, middle-aged slut I decided, and felt that delicious tingle in my pussy again. In for a penny, in for a pound, I suddenly decided:

'You can check for yourself when we meet, bad boy! Xxx' I sent, cringing so much that I threw the phone in my handbag, wrinkling my nose at my own ludicrous naughtiness.

Mr C didn't text back, and disappointed, but with a lovely tingle between my thighs for the rest of the journey, I tried to get my report done, feeling the anticipation in my pussy of meeting my two young stud muffins that evening as I typed away.

III: Presenting myself as a trashy middle-aged slut for my two young stud muffins.

I got to Cambridge, did my consultancy work for the day, did a quick bit of clothes shopping hoping to impress my two young stud muffins later on, got a taxi to the Talbot Hotel in a cold and damp Ledbury, admired the old Tudor beams as I checked in, and dumping my travel bag on the bed texted my fiancé to let him know I was otherwise engaged tonight:

'Contacted Mr C and arranged to go out for a meal in Cambridge tonight. He lives about an hour away. X'

Then I tried the shower; it was hot, powerful and steamy; a bit how I envisaged my night with Mr C and Popeye. The thought of dressing up for my two young men had me stroking myself in the shower, and the moment I got out, with a big white towel wrapped around my petite bare body, I sent Mr C a text:

'I just got out of the shower and thought I'd give you a text to let you know I'm all excited for tonight, bad boy! Xxx'

I really hoped my naughty text would put a certain image of me in his head, and not the usual frumpy mom image, at the same time as telling him that I was thinking about him in the shower, which sounded so intimate, despite me not mentioning the fabulous orgasm I had just enjoyed whilst imagining him using me, under the steamy jets of water.

By the time I'd laid my new outfit on the bed, Mr C had still not answered. My fiancé had sent a quick reply though;

'Okay, have fun. X' to which I wanted to reply 'I will, Mr C's spunk tastes delicious. X' but instead I eagerly texted 'Mr tasty spunk' himself:

'Hairy or shaved? Xxx' I sent, feeling all squirmy between my thighs at the idea of Mr C picturing my most intimate parts to himself and then dictating how I should present them for his pleasure.

'LOL. U still at it? Shaved.'

I supposed Mr C still didn't believe I was serious, or was playing it safe either way, but I loved that he got to choose how my pussy was presented. I rushed to my toiletry bag, and grabbing my razor and shaving foam, obediently headed back to the shower. I hadn't shaved down there for years, and the fact that my little mound was all squeaky clean, bald, pink rubbery as I eventually left the shower, just for Mr C. had me wet with anticipation at displaying my obedience and most intimate parts to my daughter's ex-boyfriend and his friend. There was just something intimate and much more exposed about offering my pussy totally shaved and bald rather than just trimmed. I really hoped having a middle-aged woman completely shave her most intimate parts for Mr C would give him a lovely ego boost.

I pat-dried my pink, totally bald, and very sensitive pussy and then tried on my new outfit. The top was a pink vest-top with a knight and a pawn from chess on it and then underneath it read 'Are you staring at my chess pieces?' I thought it was funky and fun, but more importantly I hoped it might invite Mr C and Popeye to enjoy my little braless 32aa boobies and treat me as their sexually objectified middle-aged slut. There was no way I could get away with a crop-top like girls Mr C's own age; not with my middle-aged paunch, but with a bit of tugging and tactical manoeuvring I managed to get the chess pieces right over my prominent nipples so my young men's attention might be drawn to the outline of my braless little boobs and hard nipples as they poked against the tight pink cotton, rather than the unsexy bulge of my barrelled middle-aged torso.

Next, I rolled a pair of black stockings up my short, pudgy legs to hide them as much as possible, whilst still giving a clear invitation to what lay above them to my young stud muffins. The skirt I had chosen was a denim mini-skirt, and once I had wriggled, squashed and shoved my rounded ass into the tight denim, the hem fell just below my ass, leaving my stocking tops and suspenders revealed. I added some hoop ear-rings, bracelets and anklets, high heels too, and after doing my make-up a little tartier than usual, I looked in the mirror and saw a middle-aged, desperate slut, dressed far too young for her sagging, bulgy, mutton-like body to get away with. It screamed 'no idea about fashion!' and reeked of desperation; 'Desperate old slapper' I thought, putting my hands on my head and jutting out my hip as I stuck my tongue out at my reflection, and giving myself an energetic 'baaaaaaa' as mutton dressed as lamb, hoping Mr C might think the same.

'Desperate old slapper for you, Mr C' I added with an excited giggle, turning on one stiletto heel and slapping my rounded ass through the tight denim of my mini-skirt, and feeling flirty and energetic tottered downstairs on my high heels to wait for my two young stud muffins.

IV: Behaving like a middle-aged slut while out for a meal out with my two young stud muffins.

It was still damp, and even colder in Ledbury now the sun had set, and the cold evening air accentuated just how exposed my middle-aged body was in my skimpy outfit. I had decided if I was going to do this, then I was going to do it properly, and a coat would have spoilt the whole 'old slut on display' image. Standing outside the Talbot, stamping my feet and rubbing the goose-bumped flesh of my bare arms, I could feel the October chill against my bare flesh and whipping up the slightest gap between my body and my flirty 'Are you looking at my pieces' pink cotton vest.

With my pussy being so recently shaved she felt ultra-sensitive and exposed with the cold wind blasting up my tiny denim mini-skirt. Even my silver bracelets felt cold and chilled against my bare fore-arms.

Luckily my two stud muffins were on time, and as soon as Mr C's BMW pulled up, I opened the door and clambered into the back, grateful for the warm air courtesy of Mr C's car heater.

"Hi Mr C, Hi Popeye!" I said in my best flirty-chirpy voice and gave the boys my best perky smile as they checked out my middle-aged body on display in my skimpy outfit as I sat in the back of the car.

The chat on the way there was the usual catch up of what we had all been up to since we last met, and as we chatted away, I decided I was going to have to take the lead, and I was going to do it by being a total flirty tease for my two young stud muffins.

Mr C had booked us a table at a Thia restaurant he liked and as soon as we walked in, I could feel the animosity my trashy image provoked amongst the staff and diners. The waiters and waitresses were dressed impeccably in conservative, high-buttoned stylish tunics and the diners sat at various tables in tasteful eveningwear. I was easily the most under dressed female in the restaurant, and the trashiest looking; no wonder our waitress greeted us and guided us over to the most discreet booth, giving me a look of utter disdain as she handed me my menu.

There was a lamp right above our booth, so my two young stud muffins could get a much better view of my bare flesh and skimpy outfit than they could in the glare of passing streetlights when we had been in Mr C's car.

"So, what's with the outfit, Ally?" Mr C asked, raising his eyebrows and sighing, as if weary of how I was behaving.

"You like, bad boy?" I asked, putting my hands on my head and shimmying my torso so that my little boobs jiggled for my two young men under the tight pink cotton.

"Fucking hell, Ally! What's got into you?" Mr C said, looking a mix of shocked and disgusted. I knew if I let the conversation turn to our usual dynamic, we'd end up back in the old surrogate mom-son rut I was trying to avoid, so I just smiled sweetly as though oblivious and carried on with my cheeky flirting.

"I've got the buns. Have you got the hot dog?" I said, cupping a breast with each hand and then wriggling my shoulders forward at the two young men.

Mr C sat back in his chair, folding his arms, and just stared at me bemused.

"Relax Mr C, I'm just having a bit of fun!" I said, smiling and running a hand up his thigh. He didn't move away, just kept looking at me with that bemused expression.

"Shame this isn't a Mexican." I said, looking around at the Thai decorations. "'Cos you two dreamboats are heating up my taco!" I added with my best saucy giggle. It was true too; I was loving playing the flirty slut for my two young men, being more and more outrageous and doing all the work while they just sat there amused, confused and hopefully getting as aroused as I was under my skirt.

"For fuck's sake Ally, your crappy lines are as pathetic as you look in that outfit!" Mr C said. "You're a fucking embarrassment to be out with. Just shut the fuck up and choose your order." His tone was severe and disgusted and he glared at me with such annoyance I felt it in my pussy.

"Okies, sorry stud muffin. Whatever you say, Mr C." I said and began obediently looking at my menu. After a couple of minutes silence, I could feel my naughtiness bubbling up like a schoolgirl and added "If I've been naughty you should spank me!"

Mr C was about to say something horrible and angry, judging by his face, but the waitress returned just at that point and we gave our order, the waitress taking my order with a disgusted pursing of her lips all the while.

"Alright Ally, you've had your fun; just what the fuck?"

"What?" I asked, lifting my palms up in supplication and shrugging. "Can I borrow your napkin, you're making me wet!" I added, my thighs squirming together under my very tight skirt.

Mr C ignored me, holding up his hand for me be quiet as he pulled out his phone.

"Yeah, Hi Kelly. Can you come down the Six Bells in about an hour?... Yeah, and bring Stace; Popeye's here... yeah... yeah... nice one. Cheers." I heard Mr C say before hanging up his phone.

"Kelly and Stace are coming down, at least we might have a decent conversation then, instead of listening to this bullshit!" Mr C told Popeye, nodding at me.

I felt as though I had pushed my flirty-perky persona as far as Mr C would take so when the meal arrived, I ate mainly in silence, still doing things like stretching so I could push my little braless breasts against the tight cotton of my vest top, but when I did try and start one of our usual conversations, both Mr C and Popeye gave the most minimal of answers.

By the time we had finished our meal I could feel the young men's contempt for me sitting there with my short, middle-aged body on display in an outfit only a young svelte young woman could really carry off.

"My reat, boys." I said, when we had all finished, and giving them a big smile that fell on stony faces.

I had to visit the bar to pay, and I could feel the disapproving gaze of the customers and restaurant staff watching my rounded ass wobbling under my tight denim skirt, with my suspenders and stocking tops blatantly on show around my pudgy, short legs.

"Either of you lads got some change I can borrow, please, and I'll get a taxi back as I've clearly embarrassed you." I asked coyly when I returned to the table, trying my best to put myself in their debt.

"Nope. Tell you what though, Ally; you can make up for your showing me and Popeye up by setting up a tab at the Six Bells for the night and then being the nominated driver. Fair?"

"Yeah, sure, Mr C" I said perkily, hoping my young men might exact some saucier repayment.

That agreed, the three of us made our way to the restaurant exit. The same waitress who had treated me with such disdain rushed to hold the door open, smiling professionally and bowing as the two young men walked past.

"I'm sorry for the old tart. I'll make sure she never comes here again." Mr C told her, stopping as he walked past.

"Very glad to hear it. We have a reputation. You two gentlemen are welcome back anytime." The waitress said with a smile.

"Apologize Ally." Mr C said, his tone definite.

"I'm very sorry for dressing like a tart." I said, raising my bare arms up, and putting my hands on my head, jiggling my breasts and getting a look of total disdain. "I won't come here again." I added. As I drove Mr C's car under his directions to the Six Bells, my bald pussy was sopping wet under my denim skirt knowing I obeyed my first order from Mr C, at the same time as he had just assumed the right to refer to me as an old tart whilst me apologize like a scolded child to a woman half my age. I thought I was doing well at shifting the surrogate mom-son dynamic into objectified middle-aged slut and young stud Master.

V: My humiliation at the Six Bells.

The Six Bells was an old-fashioned pub, original beams along the white-washed ceiling, wood panelled walls and wooden flooring with plenty of sturdy, strong wooden tables and chairs. The panelled walls were scattered with portraits and the whole bar was packed with table-football, cigarette machines, a pool table, even a yellow sweet dispenser.

There was a general murmur of mixed voices and commentary from the sports channel on the television as we entered. As we walked to the bar, I could feel the stares from some of the men in the pub at my displayed scantily clad body so ludicrously on display.

"Set the tab up, Ally. Stella for me and Popeye, two Bulmer's Ciders for the girls." Mr C told me, not even looking at me, instead looking round for 'the girls', and spotting them at a big oak table, gave them a friendly wave.

I managed to get the bar tender's attention, more likely through the view of my big nipples poking through my tight vest top than anything else, and managed to both open the tab and get the round in. By that time Mr C and Popeye had joined 'the girls' so I had to walk across the wooden floor, my stiletto heels clicking loudly, and my ass wobbling under my short skirt as I waddled slowly, trying not to spill the tray of drinks.

"Who's this?" A young, svelte blonde in a stylish white blouse and denim jeans asked, looking me up and down with a smirk even more contemptuous than the waitress at the restaurant had.

"This is Ally. Drinks are on her!" Mr C said.

"Nice one. Why's that?" The blonde asked.

"You see how she's dressed; well the behaviour matched the outfit at the Thai place, so she's trying to make it up to us."

"Yeah, some women should never start wearing minis. It's not just about age; short skirts never did anything for the short tubbies. The shorter the skirt, the more it accentuates the hips. The more it shows off wibbly-wobbly, fat legs!" She said, an expression of gloating vindictiveness on her pretty face as she gestured at my middle-aged body on display before them in my denim mini-skirt and skimpy vest top with its innuendo motif. "I'm Kelly." She added, taking out her phone and assuming the right to take a photograph of me standing there on display.

"Let's face it - minis are for slender, stylish women, under thirty-five and little girls. Little girls look very sweet in short skirts. Do you think you're a little girl?" The other woman, presumably 'Stace', with two-toned brunette hair styled in bangs and also dressed in a designer blouse and jeans, but with a cardigan over her shoulders, asked me, grinning.

"No. I don't know what I was thinking." I said, trying to smile pleasantly as I placed their drinks on the table before them, and feeling overly exposed in my skimpy short skirt and vest top before these two svelte young women in their respectable outfits.

"I do; You thought you'd project a youthful kickiness by wearing a mini. 'I'm a girl,' is the message you were probably trying to display, but to be honest, sweetie, you look more like Mona Bushpig!" Stacey said, making Mr C and Popeye both spit their drinks out from laughing.

Revelling in being found entertaining by the lads, Kelly patted the bench next to her; "Come park your fat arse here, Mona Bushpig, and I'll give you some fashion tips." She said, grinning at the others.

I felt quite overwhelmed by Kelly, she seemed so confident, smart, stylish and well-groomed and had instantly assumed the right to insult and disrespect me, as my trashy outfit invited. I tentatively sat down beside the elegant classy blonde, feeling trashy and on display beside her.

"How old are you, Mona?"

"In my fifties."

"In your fifties, wow, and do you think you have the legs for a mini?" Kelly asked, glancing down at where the pale flesh of my pudgy thighs between my stocking tops and the taut denim hem of my mini skirt had spread out on the wooden bench.

"No. Not really." I said, feeling belittled, and looking down at me exposed thighs in their suspenders and stockings.

"To be totally honest, Mona, a fifty-plus woman who wears a mini just looks desperate. Are you desperate, honey?" Kelly said, making a mocking pout and patting my head as though I were a child.

When I didn't answer Kelly just carried on; "It just says you haven't a clue about fashion. But then if fat-bald-guy over there thinks you've got fab legs, then fashion be damned, is that it, Mona Bushpig?"

Within minutes of meeting me, this elegant, assertive young woman was happily insulting me, calling me sexually desperate and clueless. I felt like a scolded child in her presence, despite being twice her age.

"Well, are you as desperate as you look, Mona?" Kelly asked matter-of-factly, holding my gaze with her sharp blue eyes.

"Yes, miss." I said, thrilling at hearing myself call a woman less than half my age miss.

"Miss? I like that. Some of us don't need to sexually objectify ourselves to get male attention. I study psychology, Ally, and you know what I see when I look at you? I see a woman in desperate need of humiliation and degradation. Probably a high-powered career woman with a nice middle-class home and family, but whose desperate cunt craves the humiliation totally absent in her life. Just a guess, based on your desperate outfit and how quickly you acquiesced to calling me miss!"

When I didn't answer, Kelly looked me up and down, slowly and deliberately, like a predator, her eyes lighting up as she spotted my nipples poking through my vest top.

"You don't have to say anything, Ally, but I'm going to grab your right nipple and hurt it. Whether you let me or not will be answer enough." Kelly whispered in my ear and and then her fingers pinched my right nipple through the thin cotton of my top and cruelly wrenched it round, like a Chinese burn.
"Little masochistic, Mona Bushpig!" Kelly whispered triumphantly as I arched my back to try and push my hurting breast against Kelly's had to relieve the worst of the vicious pulling.

"Yes, miss!" I said, my pussy wet at confessing to the young woman.

"You like being insulted while you refer to me as miss. You want to earn a place at my heel. Now what were we talking about, again?" Kelly asked, finally letting go of my aching nipple which I tried to discreetly massage until Kelly slapped my hand away. I was in awe of how quickly she understood my needs as a middle-aged slut, much faster than either of my two young stud muffins, but then again they had decades of knowing me as a respectable woman to undo.

"Let it sting; feel my power over you and your flabby body. Now, tell me, what were we talking about?"

"My fashion sense, miss" I said, my nipple stinging under my vest at the hands of this cruel young woman.

"Or lack of it, more like. In all seriousness, Mona, if you want to look terrific for your age and weight you have to be very self-critical. How trim are my hips?" Kelly said, prodding my wide hips with a harsh poke. "Um, they're fucking huge like a heifer's! How wonderful are my legs? Well, like spoilt milk; all white and chunky." Kelly added, gripping the exposed 'spoilt milk' flesh of my thighs viciously and as tightly as she could, making me cry out, as dug her perfectly manicured nails into my thighs.

"What do you say, bitch?"

"Thank you, miss." I guessed, and Kelly smiled.

"And crucially; how often does a woman your age have the face for a mini? Very rarely, I'd say. I mean no offence, but Mr C's scrotum sack has less wrinkles, sweetie." Kelly said, affirmingly.

Mr C distracted Kelly by telling her the pool table was free.

"Be a good girl while we're gone." Kelly told me, and the four of them enjoyed an evening of drinking, chatting and playing pool, ordering me to the bar whenever they wanted another round. I sat on my own, very self-conscious of my middle-aged body on display in a public bar, admiring Kelly's composure and self-assurance as I watched her play pool. When she came back overI smiled up at her, delighted at having her attention, but Kelly ignored my smile instead staring at my braless small breasts under my cotton vest top with the slutty logo inviting her, and everyone else, to 'stare at my pieces'. I jutted my little breasts out for the young miss.

"I suppose you don't need a bra 'cos you haven't got tits!" Kelly said. "But you wouldn't think you'd advertise those mosquito bites though! Guys like big, fun tits, not sad sack mosquito bites like those!" Kelly added, sitting down beside me and flicking at my braless breasts with her hand and catching me right on my already aching nipple.

"Thank you, miss." I said, flinching at the pain.

"You're very welcome, you desperate old slut." Kelly said, and then leaned in and whispered in my ear.

"Do you think I'm great, Ally?"

"Um, yes, I guess so." I answered, flummoxed by Kelly's question.

"That's good. Friedrich Nietzsche said All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity. Let me translate that for you; Kelly must terrify Ally in monstrous ways in order for the old slut to truly know her place at my heel. Now, think carefully, Ally; is that what you want?"

"Yes, miss." I said, the feeling of surrender and subjugation making my pussy tingle under my short skirt.

"Good girl. Do you know what this is?" Kelly asked reaching for her grab bag and pulling out a taser. I nodded.

"Good, because I want you to ask me to taser your right breast. Now, I want your decision to be fully informed, so pay attention, Mona." Kelly said, talking down to me as though I were a little girl rather than a woman old enough to be her mother.

"My little Taser here releases a pair of 9-millimeter barbs, attached to the gun by thin copper wires, to deliver an electrical pulse that will cause you involuntary muscular contractions that gets called a full-body charley horse." Kelly said, running the taser down my bare arm as she spoke. "It won't cause you any permanent injury, but because the Taser barbs are designed to stick in skin or clothing and not fall out, we might have to pop to the A and E afterwards. You'll also likely have two cute puncture wounds in your breast and maybe a little superficial burn around them, but you can see them as little love-bites from me. So, will you do it, Mona Bushpig? Will you ask me to taser your right breast just so you can amuse me with a full-body charley horse, sweetie?" Kelly cooed into my ear, running the taser over my breast through the tight cotton of the vest top.

VI: Itty-bitty-titty taser torture.

I dreaded the pain of the taser, but the offer of subjugating myself was really making my pussy wet. The actual taser was like a symbol of my subjugation to the whims of my young tormenter, and had the challenge been easy, or less painful, it wouldn't be worthy of her and I wanted my subjugation to be worthy of the beautiful young woman.

"Please taser my breast, miss. I want to charley horse for you." I said.

Smiling, Kelly pushed the metal barbs firmly against my right breast and then I felt a sudden bite on my sensitive breast as the two pronged metal barbs pierced the soft flesh of my breast and the next thing I knew I was writhing around on the bench, the area around my breast in agony as if it was cramping and my whole body in spasms of muscle contractions.

By the time Kelly took her finger off the trigger, I was gasping for breath, just staring up wide-eyed at her from where I had apparently slid to the floor, totally shocked, physically and mentally, with my entire body tingling from the voltage of the taser passing through it.

I managed to put my arms out on either side to grab the bench and was trying to summon up the strength in my tingling muscles to heave myself up, when Kelly yanked the taser from my tingling breast causing the barbed metal probes to rip free of my tender breast and I cried out, instinctively covering my stinging breast with my hand.

"That's good. No need for A and E." Kelly said matter-of-factly, putting her taser back in her grab bag and then turning back to me, Kelly gently pulled my hand away and yanked my vest top up in one sudden tug so that both my small, bare breasts were exposed to the whole bar. Kelly scrutinised my bare right breast and then smirked, evidently pleased with herself.

"Do you like your little love-bites, whore?" She asked.

When I followed her gaze to my aching breast, I saw two small inflamed puncture wounds in my soft, pale flesh, surrounded by the harsh, swelling and irritation of superficial burns.

"Yes miss."

"Then leave them on show like a proud little slut."

Then, just as Kelly's eyes widened as her gaze went to the wooden floor around me, I realized I was sitting in a pool of warm, wet liquid and that my denim mini-skirt and legs were soaked.

"Oh, that's the other thing that can happen. If you've a full bladder you might piss yourself. Just see it as more fab entertainment for me!" Kelly told me, swapping her taser for her phone and pulling the table out of the way, photographing me sitting in a puddle of my own piss, my mini-skirt hitched up about my hips and my short legs splayed so that my immaculately bald pussy was exposed to her lens as she leant in for a close-up.

"Oh my God, you're so old your camel toe looks like a chicken gizzard or something!" Kelly sneered, prodding my exposed labia with the toe of her shoe as she continued snapping pictures of my most intimate shaved parts.

"Here, Stace, grab one of these and help spread this bitch!" Kelly said to Stacey, who immediately came around and grabbed my ankle, whilst Kelly did the same with the other.

"Those thighs are so fat Mona probably stinks of bacon when they rub together!" Kelly told Stacey, and then they both pulled so that my back slid down the bench to the floor and my vest top was scrumpled up my back as I was dragged feet first through my own pool of piss.

"Hey, Mr C! Here, take some pics will you!" Kelly shouted over, and Mr C joined in, snapping away while the two girls held my ankles either side of my head so that my most intimate parts were provocatively displayed.

When they were done Mr C handed Kelly back her phone. "Clean her up, Kell. I don't want my car stinking of old-woman piss!" Mr C said, nodding down at me where I still lay on the floor, my ankles pushed painfully either side of my head and my pussy and ass completely exposed between my splayed thighs.

I had known Mr C for years and couldn't believe his response to seeing me subjugated by a woman less than half my age was not only to let it happen, but to simply accept it as though I deserved it. But then, I was hardly dressed or acting in our usual surrogate mom-son relationship. I felt sore in my left breast where the puncture wounds were, and still shaky from the voltage of Kelly's taser and my thighs were aching from being squashed against my middle-aged paunch, all to amuse young Kelly. All the physical discomfort Kelly had put me through was nothing to the thrill of the humiliation and degradation at the behest of this much younger woman.

In only a few hours after meeting me, Kelly had assumed the right to insult me, grab and twist my nipple through my top, taser my breast and make me incontinent, and then photograph me displaying my most intimate parts whilst sitting in a pool of my own piss. It was hard not to see the confident, composed young woman as 'great'.

I felt completely overwhelmed and washed out, still a bit dazed from the voltage, and my body still tingling sensation as the two girls hauled me to my feet, and pushed me towards the ladies, so that I staggered forward, still feeling woozy and unsteady on my feet. I didn't even have the nous to pull my skirt over my exposed bare ass, I realized afterwards.

The toilets were cool and quiet after the bustle and intensity of the bar room. The faint murmur of conversation and karaoke singing came muffled through the door, but otherwise it was a welcome chance to try and regain my senses.

"Well, come on Mrs Pissy-pants, we don't have all day. Get those clothes off!" Stacey said, leaning against the porcelain wall and folding her arms as she watched me clutching a sink for support.

"Maybe she wants another love-bite." Kelly said, pulling her taser out of her grab bag and waving it at me.

Seeing the taser I panicked, I didn't think I could take any more of the intense cramping pain it had caused and I was still tingling and reeling from the after effects of the voltage, so stepping out of my heels, I immediately reached behind me, unzipped my drenched mini-skirt and tugged it down over my hips.

"That's those heifer hips again, Mona!" Stacey taunted as I struggled to get the wet denim past my hips and then let the skirt fall to my feet.

"And the rest, you old frumpy bag!" Stacey demanded, and I fumbled about pulling my vest top over my head, dropping it beside my skirt on the ladies room floor and then, unclipping my suspenders, rolled the soggy nylon down my legs, hobbled on one foot to yank the stocking off, did the same with the other leg, unclipped my suspender belt and then stood stark naked before my two young bullies.

"Put your hands on your head and keep them there." Kelly demanded as the two young women began to walk around where I stood, nude and exposed in the middle of the Ladies' Loos. Still feeling woozy, I could only see my protagonist when they were directly in front of me, the other always disconcertingly behind me.

"You know, behind every fat person there's someone beautiful." Kelly said, prodding my middle-aged paunch with a bony finger. "No seriously, you're in the way; I can't see Stace!" Kelly said, grinning smugly, obviously pleased with her own joke.

I could hear a tap running behind me, and then suddenly I was slapped in the back, right between my shoulder blades by a slopping wet cloth, soaked in freezing cold water and then Stacey began washing me down as Kelly smirked.

"Do that again, Stace. I want to see if the old frump's so old her tits fall off when you slap her back!" Kelly said and as she spoke our gazes met and I thrilled at the sadistic glint in Kelly's eyes as well as her knowing look that her actions were making me wet.

Stacey obliged her friend with a hard slap of the cloth to my back, making me stumble forward. Kelly immediately shouted me back in place and the washing down continued with Stacey mopping my own piss off every inch of my bare body, and Kelly amusing them both with her commentary.

"You might struggle with that butt crack, Stace, Mona Bushpig's so old it's probably sealed up!" Kelly said, and then to me; "Touch your toes, frump-lump, make it as easy as you can for Stace, you selfish sow!"

Obediently I bent at my waist and touched my toes, my middle-aged paunch squidging up in pillowed layers as I suffered the indignity of a woman half my age wiping my bare ass in a public toilet.

The rest of my washing down continued in the same manner with me being submissively compliant, my pussy wet with arousal at being washed down as though I was totally incompetent. As Stacey wiped my wee off my body, Kelly continued her insults:

"Make sure you get under those mosquito bites, Stace, Mona's so old a fucking pilgrim'll probably fall out!"

When I was made to part my bare thighs to give Stacey access to my shaved crotch: "Get right up there Stace, you might find some ancient pottery!"

Eventually my body was wiped down to Kelly's satisfaction and I was made to put my discarded clothes and heels in the bin. At first, I thought they were letting me keep my vest top, until I realised that was already binned as Stacey had been using it to wipe down my bare body.

Stacey pushed me towards the hand dryer and I was made to crouch under the hot blown air, my bare thighs splayed until my bare flesh was totally dry.

"We can't let the old sow go out like that, it'll put people off their pints!" Kelly said, striding over to a toilet cubicle and returning moments later with a white toilet roll. I was ordered to place my hands back on my head and then turn as Kelly commanded as she used the strips of toilet tissue to first make a boob-tube over my small, bare breasts and then wound more of the toilet tissue around my hips down to just below my pussy as a make-shift micro mini-skirt.

I was left even more exposed and ridiculous looking than my earlier, trashy self-chosen outfit had looked. Kelly deliberately hadn't allowed for more than one layer of toilet tissue around my little breasts, so the outline of my rounded breasts was more humiliatingly obvious through the translucent tissue paper, and my big nipples not only poked against the delicate tissue, but it was translucent enough for the dark circles of my areoles to be plainly seen.

The skirt wasn't much better, with nothing to keep the layers from falling apart except for a final tuck back into the waist of the make-shift skirt. I was afraid of even taking a step, the whole thing seemed so fragile.

Kelly made me lead the way out of the toilets and I made a quick cheeky pose like a popstar in my humiliating outfit to amuse Kelly; one arm stretched up and the other on my jutting hip, and then I flushed from humiliation as I re-entered the bar, feeling completely vulnerable and exposed.

Luckily, the bar tender having called time earlier, there were just a few stragglers drinking down the dregs of their pints and paying little attention to me as I sat down at the table, the two young lads smirking at my new garb.

"Pay the tab, Ally." Mr C told me, putting on his coat and shaking his head in disdain as he walked past me and throwing his car keys at me, he opened the outside door so that I felt the skimpiness of my toilet tissue outfit as the freezing night air touched my mostly bare flesh.

I tiptoed my way over to the bar, making as little movement as possible, terrified my toilet tissue outfit would rip and asked the bar tender if I could pay the tab. He had the decency to take my money without any reference to my humiliating outfit, and I scurried out into the cold night air after the young group.

Luckily Mr C's car wasn't parked too far away, but I was still goose-bumped and shivering by the time I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Open all the windows, fatty-frump-fuck!" Kelly demanded as soon as I started the engine. "We've all got coats on!" She told the others perkily. I wound the windows down and drove, the toilet tissue flapping dangerously close to ripping as it did so and even though the cold night air lashed at my exposed flesh, being able to suffer for Kelly's amusement gave me a thrill.

"You got any booze at your place?" Kelly asked the lads.

"Yeah, plenty." Popeye said.

"I've got a meeting at eight in the morning. I'll just get you guys home and then I really must get a taxi back to the hotel." I said, the incongruity of my current situation of shivering uncontrollably in an outfit of toilet-tissue having been disgraced and subjugated by two young, pretty women and disgraced before two young men I had known all of my adult life and the professional, assertive business woman who would be chairing a meeting in a few hours.

Suddenly Kelly appeared over my left shoulder from the back of the car, holding her taser to my left breast. "Really; you've got an opinion you'd like to express, have you, slut?"

"Erm... I'm happy to go along with whatever you decide, Kelly!" I said, trying my best to smile through my chattering teeth.

"Good attitude, swamp donkey!" Kelly said, pushing the sharp points of her taser into the soft flesh of my breast, but thankfully, not pulling the trigger, and I drove to Mr C's house in subjugated silence.

VII: Middle-aged fuck-meat, literally!

I parked Mr C's car in the drive and followed my young tormenters into the house. I just stood awkwardly in my skimpy toilet tissue skirt and boob tube while they plonked themselves down in the various armchairs and sofas and Mr C brought them all a bottle from the fridge, not even bothering to bring the 'old slut' one. As they sat about swigging from their bottles Mr C put the television on, and as they seemed distracted by that, I tentatively sat down on the edge of the sofa Kelly was sitting on, still shivering from the drive with all the windows down.

Kelly immediately kicked out her leg, her foot pushing my ass off the sofa so that I landed on the floor.

"Okay; rule number one; No Mona Bushpigs on the furniture!"

"Where am I supposed to sit?" I asked.

"You're not supposed to sit, you're supposed to entertain us, frump-lump!" Kelly told me, lying back on the sofa and smirking at me.

"Telly's boring, let's have fun with Mona! Let's face it; the last time I saw something this funny I had to pay an admission!" Kelly said, grabbing the TV remote and turning off the television. "Stand in the middle of the room so we can all get a good look at your revolting body, Mona."

"Yes, miss." I said, standing up and giving Kelly a cute little curtsy and then skipping to the middle of the room, the four of them lounging around watching me.

"So, what was the big idea, Mona? Dressing that gross frumpy body up so sluttily?"

"I thought I should be honest and look like a desperate trashy slut." I said cheekily.

"And you thought you'd attract men by having those mosquito bites on show and those spoilt milk gams? You're priceless, Mona! The only way you'll ever get laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait."

I glanced up at Kelly and she smirked; "No I'm not insulting you, I'm describing you. Okay, this is going to be hilarious! Mona, I want you to do a striptease for the lads, I want to see how a crockadillapig like you tries to be sexy!"
Kelly strode over to the stereo and chose 'Don't cha' by the Pussy Cat Dolls and then waved her taser at me as a reminder of what she would do if I didn't obey.

I felt so self-conscious standing in that living room, my middle-aged body covered only by flimsy toilet tissue, about to flaunt my charms for son's ex-boyfriend and his friend. Most of all I wanted to impress Kelly though.

I didn't really know the song and so I danced along as best I could like I would at a party until Kelly turned off the music and strode towards me purposefully. Without a word Kelly rammed her taser into my left breast.

"Ask me to pull the trigger for not doing as you're told." Kelly said.

"Please pull the trigger, miss." I said, flinching in preparation of the imminent agony.

The same searing cramp shot through my chest and my whole body went into spasms. Kelly kept her finger on the trigger until I collapsed on the floor. When she pulled the barbed metal probes out of the punctured flesh of my breast the rip was agony.

"What the fuck, Mona? Don't mistake me for someone who gives a damn or is easy to please. It's an honour to serve me. Now, I said be sexy you swamp donkey! Stace get the old sow some props to help her out!" Kelly said, grinning over at Stacey as I sat up and nursed my stinging breast, the shaky feeling tingling through my body, just making me more in awe of, and desperate to please, my all-powerful miss, to the point I was grateful for the opportunity to charley horse for miss.

"Thank you, miss."

"Will this do?" Stacey asked, coming back from the kitchen with a coil of Cumberland sausage.

"Perfect! Mona can do us a snake dance!" Kelly said, picking up the stereo remote control and then staring down at me. "Ready Bushpig?"

I clambered to my feet, my legs feeling wobbly and my whole body tingling from the voltage of the taser and took the coil of raw sausage from Stacey as she held it out for me.

Kelly started the music and I gyrated my hips and slid the cold, slimy sausage over my jiggling flesh. It didn't take long for the toilet tissue to fall from me as I danced and rubbed the cold meat over my exposed body until the music stopped again.

"Mona Bushpig!" Kelly said sternly, as if scolding me with my full name. "If ugly was a crime, you'd get a life sentence. I said be sexy! What you totally lack in looks make up for in slutty! Impress the lads and fuck your sausage!"

"Fuck-meat with fuck-meat!" Popeye said with a grin.

Kelly started the music, smirking knowingly at me, arms crossed, as I abandoned myself to my role as fuck-meat.

I started dancing for her, loving the clammy feel of the sausage like meat on meat, making me feel objectified as their fuck-meat. I draped it around my exposed body, and then closing my eyes, I slid the twenty-one inches of meat between my thighs, holding it with one hand in front of me and one behind and ground my hips against the slimy skin as the song went into the chorus:

'Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?

Don't cha

Don't cha

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?

Don't cha

Don't cha'

The music stopped again, and I felt utterly ridiculous, pausing as the music stopped having just simulated fucking raw meat, and my pussy juices glistening on the sausage skin at the humiliation But this wasn't enough for Kelly.

"I said fuck your sausage, not hump it! I swear to God, if that sausage isn't up that disgusting minge in one minute, I'm going to fry those gizzards until they shrivel up and fall off!"

"Yes, miss." I said with a curtsy.

The music started up again and I opened my thighs a little and tried to push the tip of the sausage inside me, but it was really awkward. I glanced over at Kelly who raised an eyebrow expectantly and smiling over at the beautiful young miss, I sacrificed my dignity completely, lying on the floor and spreading my thighs, I parted my labia with two fingers, and fed the sausage into my pussy.

"Move your hips to the music while you fuck your sausage, Bushpig!" I heard Kelly say from somewhere nearby, and so I began gyrating my hips as I kept pushing the sausage meat inside my displayed pussy.

"You've got to the end of the song to get the whole thing inside that disgusting hole, Mona!" Kelly warned me.

I had no idea how much time was left, but I so wanted to please miss Kelly that I began stuffing the sausage into my pussy, feeling its bulk filling me. I was so desperate to please Kelly that when the music stopped the first thing I did was feel around my labia to see if there was any sausage left dangling from my pussy, and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the slimy skin bulging between my labia, but none hanging out.

Kelly tapped the protruding sausage with her toe. "Look Mona, the lads have their cocks out, you must've done something right!"

I looked up to see both Popeye and Mr C stroking their hard cocks to my humiliating performance. Seeing their virile, hard cocks standing to attention, their veins pulsing along the hard shafts as they stroked was so visceral and sexual and I felt my pussy contracting in arousal against the bulky sausage stuffed inside me.

"Yay for you, you desperate old fuck-meat! You managed to get two young men hard! Now be honest you disgusting sausage-jockey or I'll zap you like there's no tomorrow! Does it turn you on to know you've made these two young men hard?"

Although I had never dreamt of my fantasy of being an objectified, middle-aged fuck-toy being at the behest of a young, pretty woman, seeing the two young men I had known most of my life sitting stroking their cocks to my humiliation at the whim of a younger, prettier girl had my pussy sopping wet around the raw meat crammed inside.

"Yes, miss."

"Yes what, Mona?"

"It turns this middle-aged fuck-pig on to know I've made Mr C and Popeye hard, miss." I said, thrilling at my use of the word miss to honour this woman less than half my age and at being made to confess my desperate slutty yearnings for my daughter's ex-boyfriend and his friend.

It felt like a purging of a guilty secret, a huge release, and now I was a confessed middle-aged desperate slut, lying with my thighs splayed and sausage meat filling my desperate, tingling pussy, admitting my needs for these young men, it felt as though all old boundaries were gone, and that whatever new dynamics would develop between me and my four younger protagonists, it could never go back to the surrogate mom-son relationship Mr C and I had maintained for years.

"Hump my foot." Kelly demanded, pushing the sole of her boot against my bald, exposed pussy.

And I did; lying there totally bare and exposed before four dressed younger men and women, I gyrated my hips, pushing my bald mound against her ribbed sole, trying desperately to relieve the need to orgasm that the feel of Kelly's boot against my swollen clitoris was causing.

"It's a good thing we're indoors, Mona! If people saw this on a beach, they'd probably call Greenpeace to help push you back in the sea."

"Yes, miss." I said, half in a moan, thrusting my hips desperately against Kelly's boot, completely surrendering to my new role as some kind of middle-aged humiliation whore for the young group, and luxuriating in the sensual freedom it gave, as I brought myself nearer and nearer, grinding my clit against the sole of Kelly's boot and feeling my pussy contract against the meat crammed inside.

"Don't cum!" Kelly said sternly, removing her boot just as I was about to orgasm, and giving my pussy a short, sharp kick with the toe of her boot.

"Sorry, miss."

"Selfish bitch! You've given these two lads erections and instead of seeing to them, you're only bothered about getting yourself off like the desperate old slapper you are!"

"Sorry, miss."

"Go and ask the lads if you can help them get off."

I managed to sit up, but as I put a hand down to use as leverage to stand, Kelly kicked it away, making me fall flat on my back again and bang my head against the floor.

"Rule number two; Bushpigs crawl."

I looked up at Kelly in disbelief to see the young, pretty blonde smiling down at me. Kelly looked so composed; her blonde hair immaculately straightened, her make-up still fixed perfectly, and her svelte body, stylishly and tastefully presented in tight fitting jeans and her crisp white blouse. Kelly looked so composed and dignified as I looked up at her from where I lay with my middle-aged body bare and on display, my flesh grimy with sausage meat and with my pussy stuffed full of the raw meat. The disparity couldn't have been more striking, and as Kelly nonchalantly commanded me to crawl, I felt so in awe of her composure and dignity that I wanted to please the young miss more than anything.

I obediently got on my hands and knees, thrilling at being able to obey Kelly, and then crawled over to where Mr C, was sitting, still stroking their hard cocks.

"Can I help get you off?" I asked, looking up at the lads with my perkiest smile, making sure I used the language Kelly had said.

"Fucking hell, Ally! You're actually getting off on this aren't you?" Mr C said, looking at me with astonishment and to show him he was right I reached behind my displayed haunches and began touching myself.

"I want to lick something. Can you guess what?" I asked, enjoying playing the flirty tease while presenting as a totally objectified slut.

"You really are a desperate fucking meat wallet, eh, Ally?" Popeye said, grinning down at me as he jerked his hard cock.

Hearing the young man I had known most of my life referring to me in such derogatory terms, and with such a tone of contempt in his voice, nearly made me orgasm.

"Tell me three things that make you the most excited... I'll make sure you get at least two out of the three... Deal?" I said, smiling from my place on the floor, revelling in my new slutty role.

"Yeah, bro'!" Mr C said, giving Popeye a high five. "Let's have some fun! I've wanted to use this old spunker for fucking years, who'd have thought she was such a desperate cock jockey all these years? Suck it bitch!" Mr C ordered, letting go of his hard cock.

I crawled forward and opening my mouth, took the head of his cock between my lips, licking the head and looking up at him. All the years we had known each other in a surrogate mom-son relationship, and now I was obediently sucking his cock, all sense of dignity and respect sacrificed for the pleasure of serving my young man.

I really went to work, trying hard to please my young man, taking his hard shaft right down my throat, kissing his cock lovingly through my saliva and rubbing it between my small bare, sore breasts. Kelly sat down beside him and they began kissing while I slobbered dutifully on Mr C's cock.

"Do you like that Mona? Working your little socks off to get Mr C off with your mouth, while he totally ignores you and makes out with a superior woman?" Kelly asked between kisses, knowing full well the answer.

"Yes, miss."

Kelly laughed.

"So, you accept your status as our middle-aged fuck bag to use however we want, then?"

"Yes, miss."

"I want to see the old slag perform! Go suck Popeye's cock, whore!" Kelly said, clearly enjoying her demeaning language as much as I was.

I crawled over to Popeye with a perky smile. "Please may I suck your cock, sir?" I asked, feeling the subjugation of the word 'sir' in my stuffed pussy.

"Go ahead Ally." Popeye said, putting his hands behind his head and pushing his hips forward for my eager mouth to take his big, black cock. "Ah; best thing about a blow-job from Ally; five minutes of fucking silence!" Popeye said, as I dutifully did my utmost to pleasure his hard cock with my mouth.

"How many cocks had you had in your mouth before tonight, frump-lump?" Stacey asked me as I continued to suck Popeye's cock.

"Four, miss. Including my current fiancé.'

"We got to get at least two more cocks down her throat before she leaves then. Double the number of cocks in one trip!"

"What would your fiancé say if he knew what a desperate cock-sucker you're being?" Kelly asked with a sneer, taking her phone and filming me as I pulled away from Popeye's big, black cock to answer Kelly's question, saliva dangling from my chin.

"He'd hate it, miss. He would probably leave me."

"Mmm, so we blackmail you too! Would you like me to blackmail you, Mona Bushpig; to know your pathetic life is at my whims and mercy. Would that excite you; to know you willingly handed all that power over you to me?" Kelly asked, still filming me as I took Popeye's cock back into my mouth.

"Yeth, mith" I said, my words distorted by the hard cock in my mouth, and my stuffed pussy dripping at the idea of my total subjugation to Kelly.

"Okay, let's take the frump-lump to the bedroom and make a film we can blackmail the bitch with! That okay with you, Mona?"

The idea of voluntarily allowing Kelly total control over my life, the fact that performing on film would give Kelly and the others total dominion over me was such a sexy masochistic idea, I happily led the way, crawling on hands and knees and wiggling my haunches for their amusement, conscious that my glistening pussy juices, leaking past the sausage stuffing my pussy betrayed my arousal.

"Look at that drooling cunt!" I heard Popeye say. "I reckon Ally's so desperate to be licked she hitches up her skirt when anyone yawns!" I wiggled my haunches even more to prove his point.

Once in the bedroom I was made to sit up with pillows behind my back on the bed with a young man on either side of me, whilst Stacey filmed the whole thing on Kelly's phone, Kelly taking the dominant role as director.

VIII: Filming the fuck-meat.

"Look into the camera and introduce yourself frumpy-lump-fuck." Kelly told me. "But before she does boys, pin the old slapper's ankles behind her head."

Mr C and Popeye happily grabbed an ankle each and pushed my legs up, squashing my bare thighs against my paunchy belly, until my face peered through the gap between my ankles, flushed from the effort. I was the only nude person in the room, the lads had even zipped up their jeans.

"Make sure you get a shot of her meat stuffed minge as well as her face while she talks, Stace."

Hi, my names Allison _ _ _ _ _ _, I'm fifty-six, a mom, a professional business woman, and..." I stumbled to a halt, not knowing what Kelly wanted me to say. I looked up at Kelly for an answer.

"Say 'Hi' to your fiancé and explain what you're doing and make it clear there's no coercion."

"Hi Dougie!" I said, smiling into the camera and reaching round my pinned bare thighs to give a cutesy wave. "I'm here with Mr C and Popeye serving them as their willing middle-aged fuck-meat. Erm... I've got Cumberland sausage stuffed up my pussy and I've had both their cocks in my mouth. I'm going to do my very best to please my gorgeous young stud muffins and do everything they want me too... erm and I shaved my pussy for my boys and erm... " I said into the camera. "Was that okay, miss?" I asked Kelly.

Mr C leant into the frame of Stacey's shot at the same time as he pushed two fingers inside me next to the sausage meat bulging from my stuffed pussy. I immediately tried to buck my hips in gratitude and to show off my desperate need to be their middle-aged fuck-toy.

"Wow! The old slut's smush mitten is so wet it feels like a horse eating oats." Mr C said with a shit-eating grin. Mr C and my fiancé don't seem to get on, mainly they just avoid each other so I presumed Mr C's little performance was a little bit of one up-man-ship, gloating that the woman my fiancé adored most in the world was sitting with her legs splayed in subjugation to Mr C as his willing fuck-meat.

"Mmm, that's because I love being your slut, big man!" I told him, bucking my hips against his hand. Just knowing the more slutty my performance was the more damning the film would be as blackmail was driving me to behave more and more sluttily.

"Hey, Dougie; why's Ally like a dog turd?" Popeye said, leaning into view. "The older she gets the easier she is to pick up!" The two lads gave each other a high five, laughing.

"Hey, Dougie, what do you have in common with Kermit the Frog?" Mr C asked into the camera. "You both like fucking pigs!"

"Oink oink!" I said, giggling at Mr C's joke from between my pinned thighs.

My legs were let down and Mr C pulled off his jeans and underwear so he was lying on the bed in socks, trainers and a T-shirt.

"Suck his cock, pudge-fudge." Kelly demanded. "And shove that fat ass in the air while you do it!"

I waddled around the bed until my face was next to Mr C's semi-flaccid cock and my ass was raised up and facing Popeye, and then began kissing Mr C's cock devotedly. The feeling of Mr C's cock growing hard in my mouth was just incredible.

"Take it right down that wrinkly throat, I want to check something." Kelly commanded and I immediately pushed down, letting his hard cock slide past my gullet.

"Nah, I don't know which one has the most wrinkles; Ally's face or Mr C's scrotum!"

"Now beg Popeye to let you suck his cock."

I waddled around on all fours until my head was between Popeye's naked thighs. "Please may I suck your cock, stud muffin?" I asked.

"Not fucking good enough, you old tripe!" Kelly snapped. "Get your tongue in his ass and then ask. Show him you know your place!"

Popeye parted his thighs and I dutifully pushed my face between his ass cheeks, his scrotum resting on my forehead, and pushed my tongue against his sphincter.

"Peath may I thuck your cock?" I asked, my words distorted by my tongue being pushed in Popeye's ass.

"Don't let her until she promises not to suck her fiance's cock ever again." I heard Mr C say.

"I pwomith not to thuck thougie'th cock ever again." I said, feeling so aroused at being made to betray my fiancé whilst licking another man's ass, it was so perverse. Dougie would be heart-broken and disgusted if he ever saw his sweet, respectable fiancé in this film.

"Of course you can Ally!" Popeye said with a grin.

"Thank you!" I managed through the slop of my drool against Popeye's sphincter and pulling my head back a little, licked my way over his balls to his delicious young, and already hard cock and took it deep into my throat.

"Fuck! That's why God gave men penises! So we'd have at least one way to shut a woman up!" Popeye said, getting a high-five from Mr C as I choked on Popeye's cock trying desperately to please him, and Mr C positioned himself behind my upraised slutty ass.

"Take her ass, Mr C." Kelly suggested.

"Yeah, that gross cunt is so old and sloppy it'd be like throwing a hotdog down a corridor!" Popeye suggested, pushing my head so that my nose was squashed into his pubic hair. All past respect for me was gone as far as my young men were concerned, and I revelled in my new role as their objectified middle-aged fuck-meat.

"Don't know, it might be a bit tighter with all that extra meat in there?" Stacey volunteered as I felt my daughter's ex-boyfriend's cock push against my anal sphincter. I heard him spit and felt the warm saliva dribble down the crack of my ass (that allegedly was sealed shut because of my age according to Kelly) and then I felt my sphincter being pushed open wider and wider until suddenly the muscle gave way and Mr C's young cock forced its way into my ass.

"Aaaaaah! Fuck yeah! How many years have I wanted to feel Ally's ass around my hard cock?" Mr C said from behind me, burying his hard cock as far up my ass as he could. "What are the three reasons that make anal sex better than vaginal sex, Popeye?"

"Dunno, bro!" Popeye said, still forcing my head down against his pelvis.
"It's warmer, it's tighter, and it's more degrading to the woman! Hell yeah!" Mr C said, ramming his hard cock as hard as he could up my ass to emphasize each 'reason'.

In all my fifty-six years I had only ever made love within the confines of a loving relationship and would never have dreamed of sleeping with more than one man at a time, and yet now I had submitted to my fantasy of being a middle-aged fuck-toy for my two young men, I was more turned on than ever before. I didn't want to be made love to, I wanted to be used, fucked hard and discarded, hate-fucked while I offered my desperate holes for their use.

Just hearing the lads laughing and making jokes at my expense as they used my ass and mouth simultaneously brought me nearer and nearer to orgasm, and then knowing I was not only sacrificing my dignity, but my freedom thanks to Kelly's intent to blackmail me made me reach behind and frantically stroke my clit, until I remembered Kelly's instruction; Don't cum! My job was to satisfy my two young men, and I wanted to be good at my job, and maybe then Kelly would let me have my orgasm.

"So, Mr C, has your view of Ally changed at all this evening?" Kelly asked, mimicking a chat show host.

"Well, I always thought Ally was a nice respectable woman." Mr C said, ramming his cock deep into my ass hard. "But you know, it's a funny thing, but having my cock stretching out her ham flower as she sucks my mate's cock like a good ol' chicken-head, I don't know, it kind of makes me think she's a slut."

"Yes, I can understand that. Not to mention she has her minge filled with raw sausage. What sort of a slut manages to end up like that?" Kelly re-joined. "I'll tell you what though, you're lucky to have a rear view, 'cos from where I'm at watching that belly and saggy tits wobble could really make you lose that erection." She added, groping the folds of my belly as they wobbled with every thrust of Mr C's big, hard cock up my ass.

"Turn her over so we can see her big fat belly!" Stacey said, and both cocks were removed from my ass and mouth and I was rolled onto my back as I gratefully gasped for air.

"What a fat, drooling, sweaty mess!" Kelly said, wrinkling her nose in disgust at my exposed flesh, glistening with sweat from all my exertions. Again, when I looked up at Kelly with her calm composed manner, stylishly dressed svelte body I felt such a compulsion to please the young woman. I could only imagine what I looked like lying on my back, my chubby thighs splayed, my anus stretched and used, my pussy still bulging with raw meat and my face a mess of slaver from Popeye's face-fucking.

Mr C straddled my face so that his ass and hairy balls were all I could see, and then he lowered himself so that his ass was right over my mouth. I immediately began pushing my tongue against his ass, hoping that would please him and loving the idea that I was such a shameless slut that I had gone from a surrogate mom-son relationship to licking Mr C's ass in one night. At the same time, I felt Popeye's legs splaying my thighs further, and then the already bulbous feel of the meat inside my pussy felt even more pressured as Popeye pushed his big, hard cock into the meat and my already stretched pussy.

"See what I mean about that barrel-belly, Popeye?" Kelly asked.

"Yeah, what's that useless bit of flab around Ally's cunt though?" Popeye asked as he continued to fuck my meat engorged pussy.

"Ally!" Kelly said, laughing.

Being talked about in such degrading terms at the same time as I was offering myself entirely to these young men to use felt so slutty and trashy, and again I had to try my hardest to avoid the inevitable build-up of my orgasm.

Mr C climbed off my face, but only to shove his hard cock in my mouth.

"Yay! Ass-to-mouth! Got to be the most degrading act possible! Nice one Mr C!" Kelly cheered as I dutifully swallowed the young man's cock only minutes after it had been up my ass.

"I don't care where you two stud muffins cum, as long as some of it goes in my mouth!" I told my two young men, smiling up at them.

"What a fucking whore!" Mr C said in total disgust, as I went back to cleaning his cock with my tongue.

After being fucked in every position imaginable, all the time doing my best to be flirty and fun, and all the while having Kelly insult my middle-aged body while the two young men fucked me, and while Stacey filled the whole thing, I was eventually positioned on my knees like a porn star for the inevitable 'cum-shot finale'. Stacey held the phone for a close-up of my face.

"I just want to confess something." I said, my hand going between my thighs and beginning to swirl around my clit. "When Mr C used to stay over when he was seeing my daughter... I used to lick up his cum if I found any. I'm such a slut. Please, please may I have the honour of tasting that delicious cum again!" I said, looking up at both the young men imploringly.

"You're a fucking disgrace, Ally!" Mr C said, stroking his cock hard and fast inches from my face.

"So, disgrace me, big man!" I said, putting my hands on my head, jutting out my breasts and opening my mouth to receive his cum. That seemed to push Mr C over the edge because he suddenly directed his cock at my face and shot jet after jet of warm cum against my face, in my hair, in my eyes, while I desperately tried to get as much of his cum in my mouth as possible.

I turned to Popeye, smiling sweetly up at him. "Where do you want to cum, stud muffin?" I asked sweetly.

"Fuck her nostril!" Kelly suggested. "Make the sow snort like the fuck-pig she is!"

There was a round of agreement from them all and Popeye grabbed my head with both hands and I pushed my nostril against the head of his cock. I dutifully held it there as he stroked his shaft hard and fast until I felt his cock twitch and I inhaled as deeply as I could, his musky scent filling my nostrils as I snuffled his warm slimy spunk up my nose and felt it slip down my throat, some of it catching and making me splutter.

I was so horny having tasted the spunk of both the young men and having tried my best to not orgasm before they had taken their pleasure, so now I begged Kelly to let me orgasm.

Instead Kelly made me sign off the film with a cum-covered smile, my best cutesy wave, and blowing kiss for my fiancé and then dragging me to the toilet, handcuffed my wrists around the basin so there was no way I could touch my desperate, meat stuffed pussy. I sat there while each of them used the bathroom in turn as if I wasn't there, the lads splashing me with piss, and then as Stacey finished brushing her teeth, the light was turned out and I was left handcuffed to the toilet while the four of them went to their respective bedrooms for a good night's sleep.

Tomorrow I had to be the respectable, middle-aged consultant during the day, but until then I was chained middle-aged fuck-meat, covered in cum and piss, my desperate, shaved pussy crammed with raw sausage. Although my arms ached stretching round the toilet bowl, I was happy suffering for miss Kelly and drifted into a light slumber wandering what wonderfully humiliating tasks I would undergo as miss Kelly's willingly subjugated and blackmailed middle-aged fuck-pig.