Drain Ch. 01

Here, our protagonist Sophia finds enjoyment in being strictly restrained and made to swallow a deluge of cum as she is inducted into Flora's scheme. If that tagline doesn't appeal to you, you will probably want to skip this.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I know that much of my writing is pretty "out there," so it is good to know when people enjoy it.

This story contains depictions of nonconsensual activity. All characters are over 18 years of age.

***

Sophia startled awake -- bright fluorescent lights stinging her eyes, a sterile scent like a lab. As her eyes adjusted, there were tiled walls, the glint of computer monitors, steel vats. It was only when she tried to turn her head that she realized she was almost completely unable to move -- her neck, hands, elbows, ankles, and knees all immobilized by devices unseen, her clothes replaced by strict restraints.

"What?" she tried to say, instead producing something like, "Nhaah?" She was gagged, too. A ring of rubberized metal held her mouth wide open.

"Ah, you're finally awake," came a voice from behind her. Sultry, arrogant, cloying. Flora. Her heels tapped against the tile floor as she circled around into view. Long auburn hair braided tightly down to her shoulder blades. Glasses with thick black rims. A white lab coat over a turtleneck sweater. A clipboard.

"Ngaah!" Sophia cried -- an expression of dismay more than an attempt at human speech.

"Mmmm," Flora continued, "you must be wondering where you are; isn't that right, Soph?"

"Nnngh." A whine.

"Don't worry, darling, I'm happy to fill you in," she smiled. "You see, this here is my little project. And since you were the only one to object to the execution of the Program, I thought it might be poetic if you were here to help administer it."

Flora's eyes lit up as Sophia's heart sank. She was enjoying herself.

"Of course, the crux of the Relief Program was always clear -- self-cleaning masturbators installed around the work campus; stress relief; lower rates of sexual misconduct. You were never a fan, were you? 'Bad optics'; 'coddling'; 'misplaced funds'. Well, while you sulked, I was thinking of more important things. Namely, in this case -- what to do with all the byproducts."

Sophia whined again. Flora, you fucking pervert! she thought, struggling uselessly against her restraints.

Flora laughed. "Well, right now, the two of us are in Central Collections: the heart of the Relief Program," she said with a grin, "and while you slept, the Program made its debut: activity commenced six hours ago. What you see there is the fruits of our labor."

She lifted the pencil from her clipboard and pointed to a tank almost directly overhead. A slit of inlaid glass revealed a white liquid inside.

"About 4 liters so far. Marvelous."

Sophia continued staring at the tank and saw what looked like a long clear tube, a couple inches in diameter, descending from it. The monitors on the walls seemed to indicate marginal rates of intake, flow parameters, pump statuses. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? she thought.

"Anyway, let's get to your part in this, Soph." Flora turned to look directly at her. "You see, I was thinking of ways that this byproduct -- semen, naturally -- could be used to support the success of the Program. We couldn't just throw it all down the drain, I thought. But that was a short-sighted thought; what we really needed was something to encourage the participants: a mascot; a figurehead -- someone that would make them feel like they were contributing to something exciting. Then it occurred to me: what is a drain, really? Could it not be exciting in its own right?"

She grinned, pressing her pencil eraser into Sophia's cheek.

"Now, let me describe our mascot's situation to you, Sophia," she said, peering down over her glasses. "Her mouth is held open by this spider gag, as she may have noticed, and her head is snugly fitted into this round steel basin." She gave it a tap with the ferrule of her pencil. "And soon, the other end of the tube from the main collection tank will be placed inside her mouth; then, on my signal, the flow of liquid will begin."

She grinned cruelly. "Her job is simple, of course: to support the Program the only way I trust her to -- by guzzling cum."

"Nhaaaah!" Sophia cried. She couldn't believe this was happening -- but the tank was right there, the tube descending only feet from her head.

"And of course," Flora continued, "she will be filmed. What is the point otherwise?" She motioned to a spot in the darkness beyond the fluorescent lighting: a little red dot.

"Nhaaaaagh!" Sophia shrieked. How could Flora do this!? How could anyone even dream up something like this!?

"Oh, don't worry, darling," Flora said, "we still have some finishing touches to do first, and those will have the side-effect of concealing your identity, if that's what you're worried about."

Sophia was still fuming but found herself strangely calmed by this remark, her heart rate steadily declining. Could it be that the task itself wasn't so bad? -- that she found some part of it exciting, even? Fuck, she thought. The cold air of Central Collections teased her bare skin.

--

Flora walked away for a moment before returning. "Now, let's go down the checklist, shall we?" she intoned, shooting a glance at Sophia before returning focus to her clipboard. She squatted to look at Sophia's body. Sophia whined.

"One. Padded mat affixed to main assembly. Check." A strike of the pencil.

"Two. Drain seated over central mound. Check."

"Three. Drain's ankles and calves fitted with shackle assemblies. Check."

Drain? Sophia thought. Fuck, that is degrading. That's Flora for you.

"Four. Shackle assemblies bolted onto base plate. Check."

"Five. Drain's hands fitted with padded steel globe mitts. Check."

"Six. Mitts closed with heavy padlocks. Check."

Sophia whined at this. "Hmm, fun, isn't it?" Flora laughed.

"Seven. Steel cuffs affixed to drain's upper arms. Check."

"Eight. Cuffs locked closed. Check."

"Nine. Steel lower back support extended and closed around drain at the waist. Check."

"Ten. Lower back support locked closed. Check."

"Eleven. Front and back halves of basin assembly closed around drain's neck. Check."

"Twelve. Basin assembly examined for seal around drain's neck. Check."

"Thirteen. Basin assembly locked closed around drain's neck. Check."

Fuck, thought Sophia again. Each one of these items seemed to further detail just how fucked she was.

Flora continued.

"Thirteen. Feet of basin assembly bolted to base plate. Check."

"Fourteen. Recycling pump attached to basin assembly. Check."

"Fifteen. Mitts chained to rings on underside of basin. Check."

"Sixteen. Mitts chained to rings at front of base plate. Check."

"Seventeen. Arm cuffs chained to rings on underside of basin. Check."

"Eighteen. Arm cuffs chained to rings at back of base plate. Check."

"Nineteen. Drain's lower body examined to verify immobility. Tightened as necessary."

Flora grabbed Sophia's arm and jostled it. No movement to speak of. "Check," she chuckled.

"Twenty. Drain catheterized. Check."

"Ngaah!" Sophia pouted, breathing heavily. How had she not noticed that before?

"Well, we can't have you peeing all over our facility floor, now can we, cum-drain?" Flora quipped.

Sophia whined again. The whole situation was so degrading. Nevertheless, something had twisted within her upon being called 'cum-drain' so casually -- after fighting uselessly against her restraints -- after learning that she was physically locked in. And there was the anticipation of the sordid thing that the name implied, still on the forefront of her mind. There was no denying it: she was turned on.

"Twenty-one," Flora continued doggedly, now standing up in front of Sophia once again. "Drain fitted with head harness and spider gag. Check."
              "Twenty-two. Harness locked shut. Check." Another task already performed, another stroke of the pencil.

"Ah, here we are," she said with a little sigh. "Twenty-three. Drain's hair tightly braided near top of the head. Let's do that."

Flora circled back behind her, and soon the woman's hands were roughly gathering her hair. A moment later, she was tightly interleaving the strands in a strict braid. Flora tied off the end when she finished; Sophia felt the taut thing pulling at her scalp.

Sophia pouted softly. "Check," Flora said with satisfaction.

"Now: twenty-four. Braid of hair bound in rubber sheath."

Flora was still there behind her, and Sophia felt her hair being tugged as Flora sought to wrangle it into something. When she was done, she felt soft rubber pressed against the back of her head.

"This is a peculiar thing," Flora said, obviously in an explaining mood. "The goal was to create a device by which a braid of hair can be manipulated by a metal ring at its tip. To accomplish that, we designed this rubber sheath with a ring at the end; the end of the braid is wound around one side of the ring and clamped onto it; then, a number of bands running around the sheath are tightened to prevent it from losing its shape."

She tightened those bands as she spoke, each zipping as it went. "All this, just to protect your hair, cum-drain. I hope you appreciate it. Check."

Another pang of lust stirred within Sophia. Fuck, she thought.

No nonsense. "Twenty-five. Base of protective sheath fastened to head harness." Flora's hands made quick work of this. "Check."

"Twenty-six. Metal weight attached to drain's hair braid and left to hang outside basin." Another easy task. Flora affixed a weight to the ring at the end of the rubber sheath binding Sophia's hair and gently let it fall outside the basin, pulling Sophia's hair taut towards its edge. "Check."

"Twenty-seven. Blindfold fitted to drain's face and fastened to head harness." Flora appeared in front of her once again -- maybe for the last time. Sophia could only watch as the blindfold of thick black rubber descended onto her face, blacking out her view of the facility, its indecencies. The thing was soft, comfortable. Better than being blinded by fluorescent light, at least, Sophia reckoned. "Check," Flora said.

"Twenty-eight. Nose hooks inserted, fastened to head harness and pulled taut." Sophia whined at hearing this. Was the need for even further humiliation really necessary?

"Oh, hush, cum-drain," Flora said, her heels clicking against the tile as she walked off to retrieve the item. "Just think about how it will make you look. Depraved; submissive; receptive. A nice touch for someone with a job like yours, don't you think?"

Sophia whined again, but there was Flora's hand, already squeezing open her nostrils to insert the hooks, pulling her nose up, snaking the end into some part of the head harness, and fastening it shut. "Check," she said. Sophia could hear the smile curling on her lips.

"Ah, here we are," Flora said with a sense of finality. "Twenty-eight. Collection tank drainage tube inserted into drain's mouth. Poetic."

Sophia heard the rubber of the tube softly creaking as Flora manipulated it, pulling it closer until she could feel it rubbing against her face, angling toward her mouth. Then -- there it was against her tongue, encroaching into her, threatening to reduce her to a component in Flora's scheme, reifying everything it meant to be her cum-drain. "Check," Flora said. The thing was resting on the middle of Sophia's tongue. She knew the taste of rubber would soon be replaced by something much more perverse.

"And lastly: twenty-nine. Drainage tube prongs affixed to left and right sides of spider gag." Her hands moved near Sophia's lips and something clicked. "Check," she said, sounding practically overjoyed.

Fuck, thought Sophia, sighing in resignation.

--

"Wow, you look wonderful, cum-drain." Flora paced around to examine Sophia, her heels clicking against the floor. "I have a few things to explain to you before I put you to work, though."

Sophia groaned, muffled by the tube in her mouth.

"Mmm, that's right; I'm sorry, darling, I know you can't wait." Flora did always enjoy taunting her, but hadn't frequently had to the opportunity to do it so openly. "Don't worry, I'm sure that understanding everything will make your situation just that much more exciting for you."

Sophia felt a pang of lust assault her once more. She had thought she hated Flora -- why was she feeling this way?

"First things first," she continued. "When I push this button, all that wonderful semen will come spilling down the drainage tube, destined for your throat. Of course, all you have to do is swallow it like a good little cum-drain. But -- you may be thinking -- what if you don't?" Flora tapped on her clipboard with the ferrule of her pencil.

"Well, that's where the basin around your head comes in, of course. If you let the stuff spill out of your mouth, it will obviously end up there, where the level will rise until there's no avoiding the problem any further. That is to say that, ultimately, you have two choices: you can either gorge yourself on cum like a good little cum-drain, or you can drown in it. And I don't think the latter option looks great for either of us."

Sophia gulped. I really have no choice. Fuck, she thought. She felt something between her legs. Was the cold air against her vulva always so obvious?

"Next: your task will be complete when the main collection tank is empty -- and not a moment sooner. Maybe you will pray for it to stop filling while you work to lower it, or maybe the opposite. Both sound good to me. You won't be unlocked from this contraption until you're done regardless.

"And subsequently, when the tank is emptied, you will be made to consume all of the semen remaining in the basin as well. In fact, when your neck is freed, you will be made to lick the thing clean. Do you understand?"

Sophia nodded weakly. She was really going to be Flora's cum-drain -- now, she was almost agreeing to it. Was that somehow even worse than doing the obscene thing itself?

"All of this will be recorded," Flora continued. "The plan is to leak the video and make it look accidental. We expect reactions to be mixed at first, but based on our projections, the sympathetic faction will prevail. Ultimately, despite your state of restraint, they will see you as a desirous, cum-hungry whore, and they will rush to the opportunity to sate you, producing a marked increase in Program engagement as they do.

"Of course, the blindfold, nose hooks, and other elements will also hide enough about your appearance to maintain your anonymity, so as long as you don't go around showing off your naked body, they'll have no idea that their depraved cum-goddess is among them.

"Naturally, that means that you can continue to work here, in both your usual administrative role and also each evening -- as my cum-drain -- here in this facility."

Sophia moaned, shaking in her restraints. Some part of her had already suspected, of course, that Flora had meant for her to continue in this role beyond this evening -- otherwise, she wouldn't have gone to such trouble designing and fitting this restraint for her -- but hearing it out loud stirred something strange and erotic inside her. I'm really going to be Flora's perverted little toy, she thought, the idea of defying Flora's demand not even occurring to her.

"The rest can wait until after you're done. Don't worry; if that glistening cunt of yours is anything to go by, you'll make a wonderful cum-drain."

--

Click.

The release button. The sound of Flora's heels clicking as she walked away. A beep, the doors to Central Collections sliding open and closed. Just like that, Sophia was alone, with only the quiet beeping of monitors and the anticipation of her sordid task to offer any semblance of company.

She heard the semen before she tasted it -- its viscous form glomming against the rubber tubing as it spilled out of the tank, then trickling further and lurching down when enough had built up for its mass to overcome its adherence.

Then, slowly, it found its way into Sophia's mouth, spilling onto her tongue; the first thing she was struck by was how strangely warm it was: a product of Flora's system, no doubt. It was salty, viscous. She tested it against the roof of her mouth and found it sticking to her palate. This is strangely intimate, she thought.

But she would not have time to savor that intimacy; the warm cum kept spilling in through the tube, and gravity did not care whether she was enjoying herself or not, forcing it down just the same. Soon, her mouth was full of the stuff, and it had begun trickling into her throat on its own.

All right, here goes nothing, she thought, pushing her tongue up to take her first gulp. She shuddered as it slid down her throat. How much was that? she wondered. From what little she knew of the subject, it must have amounted to the ejaculate of a half-dozen or so men. She imagined a line of them standing there -- her coworkers -- having just finished in her mouth. What would they think if they knew where their semen had ended up? Of course, soon enough, they would. Her pussy grew wetter.

As Sophia's mouth began to fill with semen once again, her thoughts turned to the last time she had tasted cum. When had that been, exactly? She had been single for more than a year, and even so, the last two people she had dated had been women, and the closest she'd come to tasting semen in those relationships was sucking on a strap-on.

Her college boyfriend, then? She hadn't thought about him in years. She remembered he had loved when she would get down on the floor and crawl towards him almost ferally, urgently prying his erect member from his pants, slobbering on it until it twitched, looking him in the eyes as his cum oozed out into her mouth, swallowing greedily. Had she been putting on a show, or did she really enjoy herself that much? She didn't remember.

A second gulp. What would he think of me now, if he knew what I was doing? she thought. Perhaps the same impulse that enticed him back them would drive him wild in knowing how she had been made into this worthless cum-drain. Then again, maybe he would be repulsed. That wasn't hard to imagine, either.

Of course, there wasn't just the cum, Sophia reminded herself. She imagined the image of herself completely immobilized in bondage -- blindfolded; humiliated; unrecognizable; the fact that she had no choice but to swallow every drop of semen, that she would be locked in until she was able to complete that task. Why am I so fucking horny? she asked herself, knowing the answer.

Still the semen was unceasing; one mouthful gave way to the next, then the next, and soon enough she had taken ten or twenty good gulps, swallowing the warm cum almost habitually, moaning with each as the semen coated her mouth, the taste pervading her senses. When did I become like this? she thought. Did Flora do this to me?

Indeed, she was growing more turned on with each moment that she swallowed the obscene substance, each second of her ordeal deepening her relationship with her role, pushing her into her place.

Regardless, she quickly encountered an obstacle: she was starting to get full. To remedy this, she began to swallow more slowly, trying to take breaks in order to control her pace. This, however, was of limited usefulness: the cum spilled into her mouth all the same, each mouthful seemingly bigger than the last. Fuck, she thought, groaning in discomfort.

Even so, the onslaught continued, filling her more and more until she felt she had no choice but to use her tongue to block her throat completely. Still, the semen proceeded, indomitable, cramming itself into her mouth, stretching her cheeks, trickling slowly into her throat despite her efforts.