With the bra-full of jiggling breasts teasing me, every bit of online work was an erotic torment. I felt as if every person I was responding to would be able to tell that my humiliation was constantly deepening. By the time it was time to take a break for lunch, I was sure I’d made a dark stain in my panties from leaking. I was only halfway surprised to find that Lydia was still in the house, relaxing across the sofa in the living room. Her presence and the way she looked up at me, amused, reinforced the erotic humiliation of the way she had commanded me to be dressed.
“Are you hungry, Mistress? Crissy was going to fix some lunch,” I said.
“No, I don’t think you are, Crissy.”
“Mistress?” I asked.
“Are you a depraved slut, Crissy?” she asked, lifting herself up from the sofa.
“Yes, Mistress,” I blushed.
“Are you a wanton and slutty little cocksucker, Crissy?”
“Yes, Mistress. Crissy is a wanton and slutty cocksucker, Mistress,” I answered.
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” she said. “So I know just where a depraved cocksucker like you should be going for lunch. I want you to put on a skirt instead of those pants, put on some proper heels, and find a tight top that will stretch over your tits. You have 10 minutes. Go.”
I didn’t have time to think or to do anything but obey. I rushed downstairs, threw off my pants and shirt, and searched for items that matched her description. The heels were easy, right there on the shoe shelf. I found a short, tight black skirt that I could zip on quickly, and then finally located a red spandex top, sleeveless with a high neckline. I rushed back upstairs, my heels loud on the stairs, feeling out of breath and rushed. Lydia was waiting for me at the front door.
“Good, let’s go, but first this,” she said.
She held out a white rubber ball gag and had me open my mouth for it. I leaned forward so she could push it past my teeth and buckle it tightly behind my head. While I was still leaning forward, she buckled a collar around my neck as well.
“I’m not a fan of small talk while driving,” she offered as an explanation and then led me outside and across our front yard to her car.
As we neared the car, she held out the keys to me.
“You drive. I prefer to be driven,” she said.
I opened the passenger door for her and then closed it once she was inside, then rushed around to get in behind the wheel. I was once again very thankful that our street was a quiet one.
I backed out of the driveway and she started giving me directions, one turn at a time. I fought to keep from drooling over my top as we drove into the city. Other than the directions, Lydia didn’t say a word. The streets we drove down got busier and busier, until she had me pull down a small side street and then into an alley off of it. I thought to myself that I was truly becoming more familiar with our new city from a very different perspective than I had anticipated when I moved.
I parked in a spot she pointed out. Once we were out of the car, I handed her the keys. I only realised then that I had no keys or wallet or ID with me, as my outfit had no pockets, nor had I had time to think of those things. Lydia walked to one of the non-descript doors marked with peeling signs and layered graffiti and pulled it open without knocking.
The corridors looked somewhat familiar but it wasn’t until she led me down a flight of stairs that I realised I was back in the bookstore/theatre that Liam had brought me to before. Once we reached the lobby space, I thought for a moment she would lead me into the theatre itself, but instead, she led me off to the side and through another door. I only saw the sign that it was the men’s room as we passed through it. Gagged, I could not complain or comment at all.
The room was quite large for a men's room, and thankfully, it seemed quite clean as well. Opposite the counter, there was a line of toilet stalls, but one had no door and was empty. Lydia led me into it and told me to kneel.
I obeyed, kneeling down on the cold, hard tile. There was a metal ring on one of the side walls with a short chain dangling from it. She stretched the chain to my collar, and locked me there. Once I was locked in place, she reached down and removed the gag from my mouth. I licked my wet lips once it pulled free.
“There is a show letting out in a few minutes. All those horny men will be looking for some relief, and I’m going to place a sign on the door telling them just where they can find it.”
Before she left, she pulled a couple small GoPro cameras to the side walls of the stall. With them in place she just turned to me with a wicked smile, then leaned in and had me purse my lips so she could paint them with a glossy red lipstick.
“Enjoy your lunch, Crissy.”
Alone, it sank in how helpless and vulnerable I was. Once again, I found myself completely dependent on the mercy of another, and I didn’t know Lydia’s capacity for mercy very well at all. I looked over at the chain and, given its length, I wasn’t able to stand, much less go anywhere.
There were a few more agonising minutes of silence and waiting, but then I heard the outer door open, letting in the din of a lobby space that was much busier than it had been when we had entered. I don’t know what had been on the sign that Lydia had posted, but the first man was already getting his cock out of his pants when he entered the open stall where I was chained and waiting. Without comment or preamble, he gave himself a few strokes and then jammed his erection into my mouth.
I did what I could to provide additional stimulation, sucking and licking as much as I could, but he seemed much more interested in just fucking my mouth as if I were nothing more than a sleeve for his cock. He groaned and gasped like he’d been on edge for quite some time and, given what I knew of where he had just come from, perhaps he had been. I felt him quickly tense and grunt, and then felt the warm splash of his salty cum over my tongue and against the back of my throat. He pumped two or three more times until he was spent, and then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared. He didn’t say a thing but just pulled up his pants and left.
There was another man standing ready to take his place. As soon as he took a step into the enclosure, he too had his cock out and ready, the head already purple and glistening. He stood close and looked down at me, seeing the chains on my collar but not on my wrists.
“Jerk me, sissy,” he grunted.
I lifted my right hand to him and took hold of his erection. I started stroking him, keeping his cock pointed at my open mouth.
"Oh, fuck yeah, you whore,” he spat out and started to rock in time with my motion. He reached out sideways to steady himself but other than that, he didn’t move, leaving his stimulation up to me.
I squeezed him and stroked him, feeling him harden, feeling him get closer and closer to eruption, while trying to imagine what film these men might have just seen that left them so primed for use by an anonymous submissive, chained in a washroom. He had his eyes closed, just drinking in the sensations my hands were giving him. When he started to cum, I had misjudged my aim a bit so his first load hit my chin, but I quickly adjusted and caught the rest in my mouth, and I milked him until he was dry. I leaned in to lick the last drop from his cock head and then released my grip. He too was gone quickly, and I barely had time to reach down to push the cum on my chin up into my mouth before the next man was waiting.
Each man seemed closer to the edge than the last by the time he reached me. I couldn’t see if there was a line forming, but there had to be by how quickly one arrived right after the other. I just imagined them standing there, their cocks already in their hands, fluffing themselves for me. If not for the confinement of the stall I’d been locked in, I imagined that more than just one man would be wanting to use me at the same time.
I knelt there and took cock after cock, and loads and loads of cum. I swallowed it all down, feeling the weight in my belly grow. I realised after a while that I had lost count of how many men and used my mouth. There just didn’t seem to be an end to them. Each cock was different, as was each man and the taste of his load. Some were handsome, some were average and some were quite a bit less than desirable, seeming to approach the stereotype of the kind of man you might imagine at an adult theatre in the middle of a workday. But I had no choice but to service them all.
I was in a kind of daze by the time I realised that there was not another man waiting after the load I was currently swallowing. The inside of my mouth seemed thick with the taste of cum and my stomach felt full to overflowing. I could almost imagine the cum backing up into my throat, waiting for room in my full belly to accept it.
I knelt there, panting, taking deep breaths, feeling almost nauseous for a few minutes. I just kept swallowing and the feeling passed in time. A shadow darkened the stall entrance and I looked up, expecting some last male straggler, but it was Lydia. She looked down at me with an expression somewhere between bemusement and judgement. She reached over to collect the cameras and then released the chain from my collar.
“Come on, you greedy little cum-whore. We don’t have all day for you to satisfy your base desires.”
She stood back and watched as I got myself back up onto my feet and steadied myself. Moving made me feel like the cum was sloshing around inside me and I imagined the unknown number of loads mixing together. Being upright and walking helped ease the temporary nausea. Lydia, perhaps noticing my slow recovery, chose to drive and lowered the windows as we pulled out of the alley.
The fresh air helped as well and by the time we were home, I was starting to feel myself again. One thing that was true was that I was no longer hungry. She had truly made me have nothing but cum for a meal. She sent me back to my office to work, leaving me in the skirt and tight top.
I knew that there would be images coming of what had just transpired, so I felt inspired to try to capture how I’d been made to feel, and posted a rather long blog post to the paysite about it all. The words flowed out of me and the confession only seemed to arouse and tease me more. I could feel all the cum inside me, and I was acutely aware of the ache it was causing me. Before I could have second thoughts, I posted the blog to the paysite, along with an excerpt to twitter, both promising images to come. Almost immediately, comments started coming in.
Some just said that the situation was so hot or so depraved, and that they just couldn't wait to see the evidence. Others started begging to be given advance notice of when such an event might be occurring again. Perhaps the most surprising and embarrassing was the one man who chose to reply to the twitter post, sharing that he had indeed been there, and he attached his own camera-phone photo as proof. There I was, for everyone to see, with my eyes glazed and my lips wrapped tight around him. I didn’t even remember anyone taking photos, but from the evidence of the photo, I was clearly lost in my service.
It was surreal to see myself there, on the screen, sucking cock, and to still be wearing the same outfit. My cock was still locked in the same cage. My ass was still full of the same, tormenting plug. My lipstick was smeared from use and the chained collar was visible, but no one who saw that image would be able to think for a moment that I was thoroughly enjoying what I was doing. I sat back and felt the weight of those emotions seeming to join the weight of all the swallowed cum inside me.
I was startled to notice Lydia standing in my open office doorway with a knowing smile across her lips.
“I saw the post, Crissy. It’s fun to see you getting more and more famous online. You’re a very popular cocksucker. I really will have to speak to Liam about a repeat performance with some advance notice for your fans. There seem to be quite a few of them who would pay good money to be one of those lucky men with their cocks down your throat. Of course, that’s becoming less and less exclusive of a club, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mistress, that seems true,” I answered.
“It’s getting late in the afternoon. I think you should probably get yourself back into your disguise, Crissy.”
“My disguise, Mistress?” I asked.
“Yes, those clothes you wear when you’re pretending to be a man,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I blushed.
“Another shower may not be a bad idea either, sissy.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. I could tell that I had been sweating, working as hard as I had, not to mention what other smells I had been exposed to.
I shut down the computer and rose to obey, feeling the strangeness of getting and feeling the breasts move on my chest. Lydia waited in the door for me to approach and unlocked my collar and removed it.
“Thank you, Mistress,” I said.
“Not at all, Crissy. You are an amusing plaything.”
I heard her leave as I went downstairs to strip off my female clothes. I really needed a full shower in the basement, I thought, while also wondering which part of me was the disguise and which was the real me. As soon as I asked myself the question, I was pretty sure that I knew the answer.
