BMOC: The Shopping Trip Ch. 03

My precum was leaking from the end of my dick, coating Dr. Carringtons perfect C-cups in my slime. Her shirt was damp and translucent where it had soaked up her spit and my precum. Her creamy skin was turning pink where it rubbed against my cock. The only sounds were our breathing and the wet noises of her skin gliding over mine. I was nearing my breaking point when we heard the door to the bathroom creak open.

Dr. Carrington froze. I leaned forward and whispered in her ear: "Keep going, slut." Her lip trembled and she looked away from me, but she once again restarted, moving quickly, her breasts cradling my cock. With her head down, she was able to stick her tongue out and flick it against the tip of my cock on each stroke.

I bit back a groan as the tip of her tongue teased my piss-slit and the sensitive underside of my cock. Dr. Carrington, by now well aware of when I was about to cum, turned her face to mine. She whispered, "Please cum on your slut, Sir" and bit her lower lip just so. The look on her face—so needy, so eager to please—was enough to set me off.

The first shot went over her completely, splattering on the stall door in a two-foot-long streak. Dr. Carrington rose up on her knees, and the next shot left a pearlescent line of sperm running from her chin up into her strawberry-blonde hair. She let go of her tits to clutch my erupting shaft, stroking it gently through her shirt. Her expert hands coaxed out another half-dozen spurts that painted her face, white cords dangling off her elegant features. She kept her eyes open throughout—even when some of my load landed on her eyelashes, she just blinked a few times to clear them and kept stroking. As my climax waned, more cum coated the tops of her tits, soaking her shirt thoroughly and making her pale skin even whiter.

Dr. Carrington stayed on her knees for a moment, panting and turning her head from side to side so I could admire my handiwork. She rose, careful not to disturb her new makeup, and cleaned me off with a handful of toilet paper—normally, I'd have made her use her tongue, but in her current condition that would no doubt have made more of a mess. "Ready to go?" I asked her. She gave me an infinitesimal nod, dislodging a bit of cum which fell from her chin onto her tits with a splat, and I opened the stall door and stepped out, Dr. Carrington following two steps behind me.

The man who'd come in was washing his hands, and he gave us a quick glance in the mirror—then did a classic double-take when he saw my slut, her top practically transparent, her nipples stiff, the crotch of her denim cut-offs was soaked with her juices. And of course the strings and streamers of cum on her face and tits made for quite the picture.

He froze, bent over the sink, and stared. I didn't look back, but in the mirror I could see Dr. Carrington's face turn crimson under all the cum. She was looking down at the floor, tottering on her too-high heels, tits bouncing as we walked out. I held the door open for her—I'm a gentleman, after all—and she left the bathroom, moving as quickly as she could.

It seemed like half the restaurant stopped and stared as she walked out, blushing and almost completely exposed. I could hear people muttering, not surprisingly—this wasn't an everyday event. Dr. Carrington wasted no time in fleeing the scene. She made it out the door at a near-run, leaving a trail of sperm droplets as she went. I followed, thumbs tucked into my jeans, sauntering out the doors. Dr. Carrington had crouched down by her car, hiding, facing away from me. I opened the car door and gently guided her in.

We made our escape. Dr. Carrington looked at me, her face still covered with a sheen of rapidly drying cum. "Why did you make me do that, Sir? I can never go back there again."

I let her stew in silence for a moment before responding. "Did you like it?"

"I... I don't know."

"You did. I saw how you reacted. You love being dominated, humiliated. You crave it. Your body knows, even if you don't."

She looked down at her feet, pondering what I'd said. I continued. "This isn't going to be an everyday thing, Princess. But it's going to happen again, eventually." My tone made it clear that this wasn't a request. I was simply stating a fact, and I knew she'd accept it as such. From our first encounter, it was clear that Dr. Carrington had a long-suppressed desire to be controlled, to be used. I had acted on it, and now she was mine.

There was a long silence while she processed what I'd told her. "Yes, Sir," she said, in a small voice. Another pause. "Sir? May I... may I eat your cum, before it dries?" I glanced over at her and smiled.

"Of course."

My slut started from the top down, gathering up my load on her fingers, scooping up the streaks and guiding them to her mouth. Some spots had already dried, and on those she licked her fingers and did her best. When her face was clean, or as close as it was going to get, she scooped her tits out of her tight top, bringing them up to her lips and licking them clean as well. In a matter of minutes, she was almost spotless; she devoured my cum eagerly.

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It turned out that our next stop was also our last for the day. It was a sex shop; Dr. Carrington's supply of toys was shamefully low. She had a vibrator, but that was it. I planned to get her quite a few new additions—with extras, in case I wanted to bring some other girls over to her place.

Before we could go in, though, I had to help my slut out. She looked a mess. I probably should have felt guilty about that, or at least responsible, but I didn't. A few seconds of digging around in her glove compartment revealed a wet-wipe and a handful of napkins. I dropped them on her lap and told her to clean herself up. She flipped down the sun visor and diligently wiped herself off. She didn't have any replacement for her makeup, but it had been fairly minimal to begin with. After she was done, she still looked a mess—her hair was out of place, and her clothes were still damp—but she was a presentable mess.

I took her into the store. It wasn't nearly as seedy as people tended to expect; if it resembled anything, it was a pornographic Wal-Mart. The floors were clean and white, and the fluorescent lighting was bright, if a bit harsh. The store was clean and mostly empty; there was a middle-aged man sitting behind the cash register who nodded as we came in, and a half-dozen or so customers who kept glancing at us furtively.

Dr. Carrington drew up close to me, holding on to my arm. "I've never been in this kind of place," she whispered.

"I thought not," I replied. She seemed fascinated by the store; my slut stared, wide-eyed, at the pornographic panoply on display. I led her up and down the aisles of porn DVDs, and she even picked up a few to examine them more closely. When we made it back to the toy section, she seemed to have become completely enraptured by the number and variety of dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, fuzzy handcuffs, nipple clamps—well, you get the idea. I said it was like a pornographic Wal-Mart, and I wasn't kidding.

She seemed especially fascinated by the butterfly vibrator they were selling. For those who don't know, it's basically a pair of panties, except with the whole front panel replaced by a vibrating butterfly-looking thing. The one they had at the store didn't really provide any penetration, but (I am reliably informed) it couldn't be beat for clitoral stimulation. It was a good thing she was fascinated by it, too, because I had planned to buy her one. Well, strictly speaking, she was buying it for herself, since I was paying with her money. But that's not important.

This particular butterfly vibe had one other feature that made it appealing to me: a remote control. I picked up the butterfly and a handful of other similar toys—a little bullet vibe, a butt plug, and a pair of glass toys for temperature play. Then I threw in some nipple clamps, and some lead weights (like sinkers for fishing, but bigger), and a couple of gags (one ball gag, one ring gag). She seemed a bit concerned about those last few items, but she didn't object or question me—and after all, she'd been subject to improvised versions of most of them at one time or another since I'd started using her.

We took the basket up to the front and paid for everything. Before we left, though, I pulled Dr. Carrington aside and whispered, "I want you to try some of these things out." She nodded. I continued. "Ask the clerk if you can try them here." She flushed crimson almost instantly.

Dr. Carrington took a single nervous step forward and coughed politely to get the clerk's attention. He glanced up at her, taking in her disheveled appearance, her slutty clothes, and her nearly-perfect physical form, and then his glance became a leer. "How can I help you, miss?" he asked.

I didn't think it was possible for Dr. Carrington's blush to get deeper, but it did. She stammered out her reply. "I... I was wondering... can I... uh, can I try out my purchases here?" The clerk's mouth curled into a wide, lascivious grin. He looked over at me, and I gave him a little nod.

"Well, miss, we have a back room for that sort of thing. I'll show you the way." Dr. Carrington moved to follow him, but froze as I cleared my throat. She looked back at me, and I held her gaze for a moment, then looked pointedly at the counter top. She got the message.

"N... no, thank you. I'd like to try them... try them out here." Her flush had spread from her face down to her chest now, and her pale skin was red all the way down to the tops of her tits.

"I reckon that's okay. Let me close up the store for you." The clerk went over to the front door and turned the lock and switched off the neon "OPEN" sign in the window. Two of the other customers wandered over, drawn, perhaps, by his behavior.

I drew Dr. Carrington in close and quietly asked her, "Do you want this? You can back out."

She was trembling as she answered. "I... I want to make you happy, Sir."

I kissed her forehead and murmured, "That's my Princess. Now put on a good show for these guys. I won't let them touch you."

That seemed to give Dr. Carrington some strength. She pulled off her tight little top and dropped in on the counter, revealing her big, firm tits. There was still a hint of redness on the insides, where she'd used them to get me off in the bathroom less than an hour ago. Her denim cutoffs went next; she undid the button and let them fall to the floor, then turned and put both hands flat on the counter top, palms down. Then she wiggled her hips just a bit, making her perky ass jiggle appealingly for me and the others.

One of the customers got a bit forward. He was a younger guy, probably not much older than me, and was dressed like he'd just been at a grunge revival. The guy took a half-step toward my slut and wound up to give her ass a slap. I understood the impulse—hell, I'd indulged in it countless times. But she was my toy, and while I didn't mind showing her off, there was no way in hell I was going to let some stranger play with her. I mean, if you owned a Ferrari, would you let some random dude take it for a spin?

I caught his wrist as it came back and pulled him a bit off-balance. He staggered and shouted, "What the fuck!" Dr. Carrington's head snapped around, a panicked look on her face. I laid out the rules. "My lady's going to put on a show. No touching, no pictures. Everyone gets a fun memory to take home with them. Anyone tries to go for more, the show's over." I let go of the Nirvana fan's wrist, and he stepped away, glaring daggers at me. I returned his glare. "Are we gonna have a problem?"

There was a tense moment of silence. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dr. Carrington tense up—I didn't know if she was going to run, or dive for cover, or what.

But then the guy put his hands up in the air. "All right, man. You make the rules." He stepped back. I did the same, although I kept an eye on him for the rest of the proceedings. With a nod to Dr. Carrington, the show started up again.

She turned, and I handed her the butterfly vibrator. Her face was crimson, and she wouldn't meet my eyes—or those of any of her admirers. But she took it, and pulled it up her long, slim legs, sliding it into place. "Bend over the counter," I instructed, and again she obeyed wordlessly, leaning forward so that the edge of the glass counter pushed the butterfly vibe tight against her pussy.

I picked up the remote—noting how her head turned subtly, so she could track my hand as it moved—and ran my thumb across the control. It was a simple switch, with four possible settings. Before turning it on, I told her to reach back and spread her ass; she complied. "Shit, look at that little asshole..." said one of the watching men.

"Want to see how it looks with something inside it?" I asked him.

"Hell yes!" was his answer.

I took out one of the glass toys and held it up in front of my enslaved professor, near her mouth. She knew immediately what I wanted from her, and she spit on the clear glass phallus, then opened her mouth so I could slide it past those pouty lips. I heard it click against her teeth a few times—not what I was aiming for, but she hadn't really had much time to think about using her lips to protect her teeth—and when I pulled it out a thin strand of drool came with it.

She grimaced, just for an instant, as I put the cool glass up against her tight little rosebud. But then she saw the expression of disappointment on my face and the grimace vanished, replaced by the submissive eagerness to please that she'd displayed more and more frequently since I'd taken her for the first time—since I'd violated her in every hole in her own office and left her a cum-addled wreck.

I favored her with a brief nod and slowly pushed the glass toy in, in the process making her grind her pubic bone against the butterfly vibe and the edge of the counter top. Dr. Carrington let out a small whine of pleasure, then, and her hips started to gyrate. The assembled audience watched almost silently (one let out a low whistle) at the sight of her ass as it moved in a tight spiral, her asshole slowly stretching to accept the clear glass dildo I was forcing into her.

When the toy was halfway in, I stopped. Dr. Carrington pushed her ass up and back; even though she hadn't wanted this, now that it had started, she was giving her audience a good show—and, I suspected, she was enjoying it despite herself. I let her take a bit more of the toy inside her before I started to move it back with her. Her eyes had been closed, but when I denied her, they opened up again. I made eye contact and said, sternly, "Don't be greedy, slut."

She gave me a small nod and said, quietly, "Yes, Sir." I favored my professor with a small smile, and she continued, "Please, Sir, use me as you see fit." My girl was a quick learner.

So I decided to reward her. "All right, slut. Get ready; I'm not stopping until this thing is buried in your ass." Dr. Carrington flushed, and I saw her knuckles go white as she gripped the counter harder, but she didn't move to resist.

She'd taken bigger things in her ass—much bigger things—but today was her first day being publicly exposed like this, and this was easily the most humiliating display I'd forced on her. Our earlier exploits were relatively private, or at least brief, but she had no idea how long this would go on. And what's more, it was much more dehumanizing than the blowjob in the restaurant or the fuck in the store. In those cases, I had used her, to be sure, but she was being used for my pleasure; her humiliation was just a bonus. This time, my main goal was to get her off, there in front of a crowd of strangers, to make her cum despite (or perhaps because of) her shame and fear. And I think she realized all this, at least at some instinctual level.

I pushed down on the glass dildo, forcing it slowly but inexorably into her tight ass. In this setting, there was probably no way for my anthropology professor-turned-public whore to relax, so her ass stayed tightly clenched, and every inch of progress I made with the toy was a struggle. Underneath her, the butterfly vibrator kept giving off its low buzzing hum as it worked away at her, the tiny but powerful motors going and making her cunt practically drip with her juices.

Once I'd gotten the plug moving again, her eyes once more fell closed and she started to push back against the pressure of my hand. Her normally pale skin was deeply flushed, and her lips were slightly parted, her white, even teeth just visible behind those pouty pink petals.

I bent down a bit and spoke to her, my voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Do you like getting your ass filled like this, slut? Here in a sex shop, while a bunch of strange men watch? I bet they're all going to stroke themselves off later thinking of you." She bit her lip. I continued. "Every one of them wishes they were going deeper into your ass like this. And they can all see how wet you are, slut. If I let them, they'd all take a crack at that tight little pussy of yours." Her breath quickened.

Behind me, I heard the sound of a fly being unzipped as one of the men decided he couldn't wait. The others soon joined him, and in a matter of seconds a half-dozen horny men were jacking off, watching me abuse my professor-slut.

The glass dildo was almost all the way in now, and I kept up the pressure and the verbal torment. "Hear that, slut? You got them too hot to wait. All of them are jerking their cocks for you right here and now." She tried, and failed, to hold back a moan. One of the men did the same. My eyes were on her, but I could hear the men muttering degrading comments as they pleasured themselves. It probably wasn't what they had been expecting to see when they came in to the sex shop today, but it didn't seem like any of them were disappointed.

"Ready, slut?" I hissed. "You're about to get the last bit in you." She whimpered and nodded, and I strained a bit as I forced the final inch or so of the glass dildo into her tightly-clenched asshole. When she felt my fingertips brushing her ass, Dr. Carrington finally relaxed a bit. Her legs trembled and her hips dropped down again. With the butterfly vibe buzzing away merrily underneath her, the sudden impact must have been a bit jarring—she didn't open her eyes, but her jaw dropped open a bit, and she gasped, and I could see her trembling on the verge of what promised to be an impressive climax.

I did my best to push her over the edge. With one hand, I pushed down, gently but firmly, on the small of her back, keeping her in place and (more importantly) keeping the vibrator pressed firmly against her clit. And with my other, I started sliding the glass dildo in and out of her now-yielding asshole. Now that she'd relaxed, it was much easier to make progress, and soon enough I was sliding almost the whole toy in and out of her rosebud. Each time it made it all the way in, Dr. Carrington seemed to start breathing faster, until she was practically hyperventilating. At some point her feet had fallen out of her heels, and I could see her toes curling as they hung in the air.

I faced the crowd for the first time since my professor-slut and I had started our little show. All the men had their pricks out and were furiously wanking themselves at the sight of this gorgeous woman being thoroughly dominated and used for their pleasure. As I watched, one of them came with a muttered burst of profanity, spilling his load on the floor and his own hand. "Want to see the slut cum for you all?" I called out, and I felt Dr. Carrington shiver under my hand as I spoke.

The men answered in the affirmative. That's actually something of an understatement; they practically exploded at the idea. One of them did explode, spurting a respectable load out onto the floor. The others stomped and whistled and yelled. I turned back to Dr. Carrington and said, still pumping the dildo in and out of her ass, "You hear your audience, slut. Cum. Cum like the little whore you are."