It was a gloomy day in Manhattan.

The seasons were shifting, and the city was bracing for nonstop drizzles and cold gusts of wind. Streets shimmered under a wet gray sky, people rushed past with umbrellas, and the air smelled like wet concrete and coffee.

As for me—I’m in my mid-20s, and have been in the U.S. for a while now. Pale brown skin, moderately fit thanks to on-and-off workouts, and taller than most from where I come. I’ve always kept myself well-groomed. Over time, I’ve come to understand my sexuality more clearly. I’m bisexual, kinky, and unafraid to explore what turns me on. This story is one of many.

Today, I was grooming myself for someone special.

We met online—on a kink forum, of course. Her name is Victoria: a mature, dominant Caucasian woman in her mid-50s from Kansas. We’d flirted, sexted, even shared a few pictures, but this was the day we’d finally meet in person.

Victoria was in Manhattan for business and had given me a place and time. I had clear instructions on what to wear: a red women’s panty beneath a cotton black banyan, topped off with a fitted black shirt and blue jeans. Simple, yet deliberate.

I followed every detail. Showered, shaved, dressed exactly as she’d asked. A touch of expensive cologne. Then, I called an Uber to her hotel.

She greeted me at the reception—tall, confident, and radiating control. Victoria had curves in all the right places: probably a 38C, wide hips, a firm ass, and strong thighs wrapped in tight yoga pants. Her blonde hair framed a commanding face. Even in a simple sweater and leggings, she looked like someone who knew how to own a room—and her playthings.

My cock stirred the moment I saw her.

We took the elevator to one of the top-floor suites in a luxury hotel downtown. From the windows, I could see another hotel directly across—its rooms close enough that you could see people moving inside.

The moment we stepped inside the suite, she led me to the far end, near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Not a word spoken yet. From her sweater pocket, she pulled out a leather collar and fastened it around my neck.

“Kneel… bitch,” she said, her voice low and firm.

A surge of blood rushed through my body. My breathing quickened.

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied instinctively.

She gripped my neck just enough to make me gasp, then shoved me down onto the soft carpet. Without a glance back, she walked into the bathroom.

And I stayed there—on my knees, collar tight, staring out at the gray Manhattan skyline, the occasional flicker of lights in hotel rooms opposite. My heartbeat was the only sound I could hear.

Ten minutes passed.

Victoria returned in a bathrobe, now wearing a black mask over her eyes. Mysterious. Sexy. The lights dimmed. She pressed a switch by the bed, and the motorized window screens slowly slid open.

Now I understood.

The city sparkled beneath us, and across the way, several rooms in the facing hotel were lit—people moving, working, watching TV. We were visible. Not clearly—but enough.

Victoria knew my exhibitionist kink.

She’d set the scene perfectly.

She approached and spoke: “Stand up.”

I stood.

“Undress. Only your panty stays.”

I stripped off my shirt and jeans, neatly placing them on hangers in the wardrobe as she watched, silent.

“Good boy. Now—get on all fours and crawl to me.”

I obeyed, crawling slowly across the plush carpet. She watched, amused, aroused.

“Turn around. Face the window. Arch your back. Ass up, face down. Show the world what you are.”

My cock throbbed in my panty. A drop of precum leaked out.

SMACK!

Her hand landed hard on my ass. I moaned.

“That’s my sissy bitch,” she growled.

The Ritual Begins 

“Now,” she said, circling me slowly, “strip everything above your hips. Lie on your back. Arms outstretched.”

I obeyed without hesitation. The room was dim, the city glowing in the background. I lay back on the bed, still in my red panty, arms spread wide. She approached with precision and tied both my wrists to the headboard using soft restraints—tight, but not painful.

I was helpless. Exposed. Only my panties clung to me, and my cock was straining against them, leaking more now.

Victoria let her robe drop.

I gasped.

She wore crimson lace lingerie—elegant, expensive, sinful. A matching bra and panty set that hugged her body like it had been tailored for this very moment.

“Fuck…” I breathed out loud.

She smirked, eyes focused on the growing wet patch over my underwear.

“Well, well,” she said, “you are a leaky little sissy, aren’t you? Look at your clit dripping.”

She pulled a blindfold over my eyes.

“Don’t speak unless told to. The only part of you allowed to work is your tongue. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered.

The mattress shifted. I felt her climb on top of me. Her thighs straddled my face, and her scent filled my nostrils instantly. She lowered herself down, pressing her warmth against my mouth.

“You don’t deserve my pussy yet. Lick my asshole.”

I started instantly—greedy, eager, lost in the smell, the taste, the pressure. Her moans started soft and built slowly. My face was soaked in her juices and my own spit as she grinded down harder.

She suffocated me with purpose, her full weight pressing on my face, owning it.

Then—her hand reached down between my legs.

She grabbed my cock, still tucked in the tight panty, and squeezed. Hard.

I moaned into her ass.

“Shut up and eat my hole,” she barked.

I obeyed. I licked harder. Worshipped her with my tongue.

After what felt like eternity, she finally lifted herself off me. My breath came in ragged gasps beneath the blindfold.

She slid her panties back on. I could hear the soft sound of the lace stretching as it clung to her again.

“Open your mouth.”

She pulled the blindfold off. I blinked into the soft light.

“You’re such a nasty, stinky little sissy.” She laughed, genuinely delighted. “Now answer with just a yes or no.”

“Is your hairy pussy clean inside?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy.”

She untied my wrists and gave me a moment to stretch.

Then, stern again: “On all fours.”

I flipped over. Knees spread. Back arched.

The screens had closed now. The room was fully lit, trapping the intensity in.

She stepped behind me, and with a small blade, sliced my panty open—then stuffed the ruined, soaked fabric into my mouth.

“Eat your own juice, bitch.”

The taste of precum and fabric filled my mouth. I moaned softly, humiliated and aroused beyond reason.

“Hands behind your back. Palms together.”

I obeyed, still face down, cock twitching against the sheets.

Click.

Handcuffs locked my wrists in place.

“Now it gets interesting,” she whispered. “Let’s break you.”

I shivered.

Plugged & Presented

A cold drizzle of lube hit my hole.

I flinched—then relaxed into it.

Moments later, something small and slick pressed against my entrance. It slid in easily. A thin dildo—just enough to tease. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

The girth started increasing.

She was using a toy with interchangeable sleeves—slowly building me up. Inch by inch, my hole stretched wider. My breathing got shallow. My eyes watered. The burn was real, but the pleasure underneath it buzzed even harder.

“Can’t take it, bitch?” Victoria laughed, standing above me. “That’s okay. You’ve done well so far. Look at your clit—it’s leaking.”

I could feel the wetness dripping onto the sheets beneath me. My cock pulsed helplessly with each stretch.

Then she whispered:

“I’m going to plug you now. Be a good little whore.”

The plug was thicker than I expected. I let out a muffled scream through my ruined panty gag as it pushed in. It filled me. It locked me in.

I whimpered.

She leaned down and slowly pulled the soaked gag from my mouth.

“You’ve earned a breather,” she said. “And… I have a surprise for you.”

My head tilted up. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She walked over to the lounge chair in the corner, poured herself a glass of red wine, and sank into the cushions. Her legs parted just slightly, one hand lazily rubbing her pussy through the soaked crimson lace.

I stayed on all fours, plugged, wrists cuffed behind me, drool slowly trailing from my lips.

Deep inside, I was in heaven.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Victoria called out.

The door opened—and in stepped a man.

Massive. Mature. Easily over 7 feet tall. Broad chest, thick arms, shaved head. Every step he took felt heavy. Deliberate. Dominant.

My cock throbbed instantly at the sight of him.

“Hah! Look at this bitch. He already likes you,” Victoria said, sipping her wine.

The man walked over, towering above me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and lifted my face.

He looked into my eyes—and spat on me.

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, voice low, submissive.

“Good boy.”

He unzipped his pants. His cock—thick, veiny, and at least eight inches—popped out, already hardening.

Without another word, he shoved it into my mouth.

It hit the back of my throat in seconds. I gagged, coughed, but didn’t pull away.

He held my head, used it like a toy. Slow thrusts became rougher. Sloppier. Saliva poured down my chin. I gagged again and again, but I didn’t stop. I wanted it.

Victoria walked up behind him, still in her lingerie. She stripped him fully, let her hand glide across his chest, then stepped back to enjoy the show.

She was smiling. Proud.

Ten minutes passed. His cock stayed buried in my mouth, my tongue lapping up every drop of precum he fed me.

Then he looked over at Victoria.

“Milk this bitch,” he said, “and collect the juice in a wine glass.”

Victoria grinned.

She approached like a predator, her hand gripping my cock instantly. She pulled the skin back, licked her palm, and began jerking me with practiced, merciless strokes.

I moaned into the man’s cock.

My hips bucked uncontrollably. My eyes rolled back.

In less than a minute, I came—hard. The cum shot out in thick spurts, and she caught every drop in the base of a wine glass.

“Good bitch,” the man said, pulling out. “Looks like your sissy slut’s been trained well.”

I was dizzy. Drained. I slumped to the mattress.

“Already tired?” he teased. “He’s soft now—but not for long.”

Victoria laughed.

“Uncuff him,” he ordered. “And get naked. Give me your panty—I know it’s soaked.”

Victoria handed me her used panties and removed the cuffs.

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t need to.

I slipped her panties into my mouth, savoring the taste, the heat, the musk.

Next to me, the bed dipped.

Victoria was on all fours now, her ass high, pussy glistening. The man climbed behind her and shoved his cock in with no hesitation.

She let out a deep, guttural moan.

I watched—panty in my mouth, plugged, cum-drunk—and couldn’t look away. He pounded her hard, hips slamming into her ass. She screamed his name again and again as he fucked her mercilessly, glancing at me with a twisted, satisfied grin.

Even in exhaustion, my cock twitched.

Victoria caught it and smiled.

“Well look at that,” she said breathlessly. “Looks like the bitch is ready for the final act.”

The Window Scene & Final Release.

Victoria crawled off the bed, her body glowing, dripping, radiant from the rough fucking she just received. Her thighs were slick with cum.

She walked over to me—calm, collected, still in control.

“Are you thirsty, bitch?” she asked, looking down at me with playful cruelty.

I nodded.

She handed me the wine glass—my own cum swirling at the bottom. I took it gratefully and drank it in one go. I didn’t flinch. I’d tasted myself before. But this—being fed it by her, in front of him, after all that—this felt sacred.

She smiled.

“Good. Now, let’s give Manhattan a final show.”

The man—still rock hard—stood at the center of the room like a statue carved from hunger.

Victoria walked to the wall and pressed the button again.

The blackout screens slowly retreated.

The skyline lit up before us.

Across the way, in the hotel opposite ours, I could already spot a few windows lit—people visible, shadows moving. Watching.

“Put your palms on the glass,” she said, voice like silk laced with steel. “Present yourself.”

I moved to the window. Palms pressed against the cold pane. Back arched. Legs spread. My sore, plugged hole was now the centerpiece of the night’s final act.

The man came behind me, knelt, and yanked the plug out.

I yelped. The sting made me tremble.

But before I could catch my breath—he shoved his cock into me.

I screamed.

Loud.

He grunted, grabbing my hips, pounding into me like an animal. My body slammed softly against the glass with each thrust. The cold surface was a contrast to the fire building inside me.

Below, the streets buzzed. Above, I was being used like a fucktoy for all of Manhattan to see.

“You’re just a fuckmeat bitch,” he snarled, voice rough and deep.

I moaned.

“Yes, Master. Please… use me.”

He rammed into me harder.

Victoria circled us slowly, one hand between her legs, watching her filthy creation get destroyed against the skyline. Her eyes sparkled with lust and power.

I peeked out the corner of my eye—there were definitely people watching now. A couple of windows with silhouetted figures. Maybe recording. Maybe jerking off. I didn’t care.

I loved it.

I wanted them to see.

I wanted the world to see what I truly was.

He grabbed my hair, forced my head back.

“You gonna cum again, bitch?”

I couldn’t answer—I was shaking, panting, falling apart.

My cock was leaking, twitching on its own, untouched.

Then I felt it—his rhythm broke, his body tensed.

He roared as he came deep inside me, and the warmth of his release filled me in waves.

Seconds later, my own orgasm exploded. My cock pulsed and shot against the glass, streaking it in white. I screamed through my teeth, body shaking, legs barely holding me up.

He stayed inside me, panting.

Victoria stepped close.

She whispered into my ear, voice soft and proud.

“You did so well, my bitch. You gave them a show they’ll never forget.”

The man slowly pulled out. Cum dripped from my stretched hole down my thighs.

The screens closed once again, sealing the room in darkness and silence.

I collapsed to the floor.

Victoria knelt beside me, cradled my head in her arms, and kissed my cheek gently.

“You’re mine now,” she whispered.

And in that moment, I knew—

I wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else.