I tell you we're going out to dinner. You ask where but I refuse to answer, instead telling you to take off your clothes. I watch you wriggle out of your jeans, unbutton your blouse and shrug out of it, remove your bra and slide your panties off.
I make you wait, naked, while I choose your clothes for the evening. I pay special attention to your lingerie, selecting a tasteful combination of your best items -- panties, stockings, garters, bra. I insist on watching you dress.
In the car, I hand you a silk scarf with a curious design repeated on it, and insist that you blindfold yourself with it. As I drive, I explain the rules for the evening. They are simple. You will do everything I tell you to. There is no safeword.
I start by demanding that you spread your knees: "Make yourself available to me."
You comply immediately, and I run my hand up your thighs, gently stroking the crotch of your panties. They are already warm and damp. Satisfied, I order you to leave your legs open whenever we are seated.
Eventually, we arrive and I lead you from the car. A gruff voice asks if I've brought the guest of honor. He leads us to an antechamber, where I order you to wait on your knees. You hear a discussion about you from the Host of the event. When the Host mentions a "quality inspection" I say "Be my guest, by all means." Then, to you: "Honey, do everything you're told."
You can suddenly smell the Host's fine clothing and faint body odor. The Host says "Unbutton your blouse." You do so, and the Host's firm hands slide over your breasts, loosening them from your demi and shocking the nipples with the rude cold air of the antechamber.
You hear a fly unzip and the Host says "You may receive me now." You can smell his prick as he pushes it into your mouth. Eager to impress, you pull out your entire bag of tricks. You bring up your hands but the Host barks: "Did I say you could use your hands?" You place them at your sides again and suck his cock with everything you've got. Suddenly, the Host pulls out with a wet pop and declares that you have had enough.
You have not.
Frustrated, you are led away to another room where a beautiful woman in a flowing vintage dress removes your blindfold and sizes you up coldly. She tells you to reveal yourself, and with trembling hands you unbutton your blouse and lift the front of your skirt.
Apparently satisfied, she tugs on a little chain hanging nearby, and a huge man with hairy arms and a small leather mask over his eyes wheels in a cart. The curiously-constructed cart features stirrups mounted off of one end, as in a gynecological examination table, a little padding, and a headrest with a hole in it, like that of a massage table. Beneath are stainless steel drawers. D-rings are mounted in various positions on the cart.
The woman says "Welcome. This is Jesus. It will be his pleasure to serve you tonight. He'll take good care of you." She pronounces his name in the American style. She orders you to climb onto the cart, although the command is unnecessary as Jesus has lifted you easily into his arms and settled you in place on the freezing cold steel.
A drawer opens beneath you and Jesus withdraws some black leather restraints, including cuffs and a spreader bar. With these fastened to your ankles and knees, you are secured in a position of excessive vulnerability. Your knees are forced awkwardly apart, and stirrups are positioned higher than you've seen before. You feel a chill on the dampening lace in the crotch of your panties, which are plainly presented to the open air. Jesus affixes a dog collar to your throat and cuffs to your wrists. He chains these to the cart, although he has surprised you by giving it a little play.
Suddenly, Jesus opens your blouse and starts roughly slapping your breasts and tweaking the nipples. With the contact and your shock, they harden quickly. Jesus closes your blouse again and wordlessly wheels the cart quickly through restaurant-style swinging double-doors.
Through the romantically dim lighting you can see an opulent dining room filled with beautiful, formally-dressed people seated among glittering candles at oddly-shaped tables. There is a stage at one end of the room featuring a bed, and a sagging leather construction suspended by chains from up behind the proscenium, both vacant. Elsewhere in this main dining hall are other carts similar to yours, bearing women and a man or two, wheeled about from table to table by large muscular men.
Jesus wheels you to the nearest table, where three distinguished-looking masked men in their fifties stand up from their chairs as you arrive. Jesus asks, in deep stentorian tones, if they would like anything from "cart six." The men cheerfully gather around you, poking and prodding. Your blouse is unbuttoned for a closer inspection, and you are startled when one man moves the crotch of your panties aside and inspects your vulva as another forces your mouth open to look within. Abruptly they return to their tables and apply feather pens to parchment cards before them.
Jesus reassembles your clothing deftly and takes the cart to the next table. At this table there is a couple in their mid thirties. The man is clean-cut with a politician's smile. The woman is an absolute stunner in a beautiful black silk dress trimmed in lace with sheer panels at the bosom. She is not wearing a bra or camisole beneath. Her breasts are small and thrust straight outward, nipples causing wrinkles to radiate away. As you approach, they rise.
When Jesus asks if they would like something from cart six the man smoothly offers "Darling, it's your birthday. Take whatever you like." She glides over with the grace of affluence and her hands begin sliding over your body, your thighs, your breasts. She moves up to smile and look into your eyes and then bends delicately down to sniff your fragrances. Like the men, she moves the crotch of your panties aside, sliding her fingers along your dampening labia, then briefly into your vagina. Jesus intones "if you please, madam." She quickly withdraws and slips the finger into her mouth. She returns to the table and takes pen furiously to parchment.
Again, Jesus replaces your panties and buttons your blouse, moving to the next table. This table has several rather unrefined men. One, clearly the leader, is dressed well but is gruff and uncouth. All are hairy and do not smell pleasant. They rise politely as you approach but hurry over to the cart a little too quickly. Their hands are everywhere and before you know it you are completely disheveled. While the men huddle in a private discussion, Jesus again tidies you up. The leader writes something on his parchment. None of the other men write but all of them bear vulgar grins.
Jesus proceeds to wheel you from table to table, each differing widely in gender and class makeup, the only common thread being extreme wealth. The other carts you pass bear people who look far more terrified than you are feeling, and you wonder if this is perhaps not their first time. You see a man you take to be the Host moving among the tables, collecting the little parchment cards.
Your last stop is the most curious. Instead of a table, there is a coffin. An ordinary-looking man rises from within, sizes you up quickly and retreats into the coffin, closing the lid.
Following this, you are led into a warm chamber. A pretty young woman comes in bearing a platter of fruits, cheeses and meats. She begins to feed you as you lay helpless on the cart. She feeds you peaches and pears, spiced meats, figs, asparagus, sweet potatoes. She pours fruit juices into your mouth, toying with you. You gulp fragrant wine and hard cider, trying mostly not to drown. She laughs and cleans you up, the damp cloth lingering flirtatiously. You are, however, too dizzy to respond.
The Host appears in the room and explains that cart six's "dance card is full" and that the bidding was vigorous. He has compiled a list of "engagements" and points out a few to the woman, who giggles and takes the sheet. She begins taking supplies you can't see from a cabinet behind your head and placing them in the drawers of your cart.
The liquors quickly warm your veins and it isn't long before you begin to feel pressure on your bladder. You ask to use the bathroom but the woman just laughs and says "You'll get your chance soon enough."
Presently Jesus returns, and the woman hands him your engagement sheet. She is chatty but Jesus remains quiet, simply consulting your sheet and pushing your cart back into the main dining room.
The tenor of the room has changed considerably. Around you you can see women getting fucked, vigorously and variously. Most of the women and one man are still on their carts, but some women are on the odd tables, which are shaped like sturdy painter's palettes.
One woman, surrounded by naked, masked diners, is on her back, covered in whipped cream and fruit and hot fudge. One of the men is leering and pressing a banana in and out of her twat as she moans and writhes a little, and another man moves a swollen, curiously banana-shaped cock up toward her mouth.
This table passes out of your range of vision and you see another cart with men completely surrounding it. You cannot tell if the cart's occupant is male or female, but they're all squirming and twitching and gasping, and you can hear a choked spluttering sound from the middle.
On the stage you see a trio on the bed in a complicated tryst, supervised by a dominant male tormenting a woman suspended in a leather swing. An audience is gathered at the foot of the stage, some masturbating themselves or one another, others getting sucked off, some simply looking on impassively.
Your first stop is the table with the politician and the beautiful woman. Jesus sets the brakes on the wheels and folds out something at the foot of the cart. The beautiful woman glides over and kneels between your legs. "Is it fresh?"
"Of course, madam. This is its first engagement for the evening, per your request."
Satisfied, she begins touching the inside of your thighs with one hand while stroking her breasts through the translucent mesh of her gown. At first it tickles, and you twitch, but soon you feel the wetness come. She observes it with relish and cannot resist stroking the damp spot. Her touch is electrifying. You look down and she has lifted the front of her skirt and has slipped her hand beneath lacy black panties not unlike your own.
She settles down to her knees and begins with her nose in your panties, savoring the redolence. She starts to lick and suck at the panties and you can see her shoulder moving. The man stands beside the cart watching his date. He has pulled out a fair-to-middling prick and is stroking it unhurriedly, in contrast to his paramour.
She finally takes the panties in her fingers and moves them aside, sliding her finger up and down your slit, occasionally dipping into your vaginal canal. Her delicate touch causes you to gush suddenly and she notices. Abruptly, she dives into your crotch, sucking the vulva into her mouth, her tongue greedily lapping up any pockets of moisture.
Having done so, she moves her fingers up to your throbbing clitoris which has emerged eagerly, this causes a fresh gushing and the woman laps it up greedily. She slides two fingers into you and begins a strange motion of fingering your g-spot and then popping her rigid fingers out of your cunt, keeping pressure on the front rim each time. This causes a new squirt of juices with each stroke. Thus rewarded, she does this rhythmically and consistently, twirling her tongue around your aching clitoris. She is masturbating feverishly as you approach your own climax.
She is getting very excited as you begin moaning urgently, and with a deftly timed flick of the wrist, you experience a sudden release and your cum squirts forcefully onto the lady's neck and chest. You barely have time to catch your breath as she starts frigging you enthusiastically, and herself as well. Again, with an adroit pop she causes you to squirt again, this time into her mouth and on her face, bringing her to a shuddering great orgasm.
She repeats this process until you feel as though you will simply pee in this woman's face. Idly you wonder if this is what she really wants. She nods at Jesus and he folds out metal stands on either side of your head as she hastily removes her panties. He picks up the woman as if he were picking up a beer and sets her on these stands and she squats down on your face without preamble. You begin lapping at her pulsing pussy with vigor as she holds onto your stirruped ankle with one hand, rubbing her tits through the mesh with the other.
The silk of her gown drapes sensuously over your bared belly, but eventually she tires of it, loosening a knot at the back of the neck and throwing the dress over her head. During the moment where she stood to remove the dress you see that the politician is masturbating into her soaked panties. The woman has been watching the people around the other carts from her excellent vantage point.
She lowers herself again onto you and calls for her paramour. You can tell she's grabbed his cock with the panties wrapped around them and is jacking him off. His hand wriggles past your chin to rub at her clit so you plunge your tongue as far as you can into her quim, and she rewards you both with a shuddering gasp. As the man comes noisily into the woman's hand and panties, she starts shrieking with an orgasm of her own that echoes through the dining hall. She collapses onto your belly, resting her head on your thigh to catch her breath.
After a moment, Jesus helps her down where she jumps into the arms of her lover, kissing him ferociously. She turns cooing to you, her face fragrant with girl-cum, and licks her own juices off of your face. The nods to Jesus and he folds up the cart's accessories and removes the brakes from the wheels. He wheels you into the prep room again, and you're forced to wait while the pretty young woman tends after an exhausted girl on another cart. Her face and body is covered by an impossible quantity of jism; it looks like 25 strapping men had come repeatedly on her. The pretty young woman gives up, unhooking her from the cart and leading her weak-kneed charge into another room.
She returns momentarily, consults your engagement sheet, and starts cleaning you up for your next engagement. You complain that you really have to piss and she says "Great. That's the next thing on your list. Now, I don't know if you've done this, but remember: Little girl-squirts at first; don't let it all fly. Give them all a chance. Then, when it's time to release you can hose down everyone near you. Got it?" You don't, but you nod anyway.
Jesus wheels you to a large table with six men and sets the brakes. The men gather around and start unbuttoning you, unhooking you and untying the tiny bows at the hips of your panties. In a moment you are completely exposed and then masked men have all pulled out their cocks and are stroking them. One man takes a position between your legs. Those in wait are at either side, and they gesture for you to take their dicks in your hands. These are already juiced up and are easy to jack. Soon, another man has taken your face and forced his prick into your mouth.
After several minutes in which the dicks in your hand and mouth are replaced a couple of times each, you hear the man between your legs gasp, "OK, sweetheart, give it to me!" You assume he knows what you're about to do, and you release a mighty stream of piss, which you cut off as quickly as you can. The men cheer and you feel gouts of warm cum hit your thighs. Another man takes his place at your crotch and slides his fingers into you. He feels you from the inside and you begin to twitch a little. This excites the guy and he barks at you to go. You shower him with a short spray of warm piss and he groans, decorating you with more sperm.
Each man takes a turn, each taking less time to reach his moment of truth. One guy came suddenly all over your tits -- you guess you were gripping him a bit too hard -- but he takes his turn anyway, just immediately going for the pee. You've paced your bladder pretty well, and when the last guy takes his position, he pushes his dick into you, the first man of the evening to do so. Slippery with semen, you receive him easily and he begins to pump away. When he begins to make all the right sounds, he yells something incoherent and you let loose as best you can. It feels rather similar to the squirting orgasms the woman coaxed from you. You feel the urine on his belly, on you, dripping down your ass and his balls and his legs. Your flow is constricted though, so the pee lasts a very long time, during which the man bucks wildly between your legs and deposits tremendous gouts of seed into you. He staggers away and nods at Jesus, collapsing into his seat. The men all applaud, though you're not sure for whom.
Jesus releases the brakes and consults your engagement sheet. He surprises you by wheeling you directly to the next table. You are in a sorry state, your clothes hanging in tatters and covered in drying cum. As Jesus hurries to the next table, the vibrations in the cart cause the last guy's jizz to dribble out of your snatch.
Jesus brings you to the table of vulgar men. They rise, leering, as you come to a stop. Jesus brakes your cart, opens out the stepstools, and tightens your restraints. The pack moves in, handling your body roughly. One little warthog scrambles up onto your tummy, spits between your tits and squats. He grabs the outside of your tits and lays his member between them and starts pumping. Your head is turned roughly to the side and placed around a fragrant cock. You feel another prick slide into your messy twat, your hands grabbed, spat in and wrapped around two more dicks.
You are lost in a delirious dream of cocks and sperm. Your body is a tool, a giant collective masturbation aid. The men laugh and jeer, cheering on their "cum-bucket" every time someone deposits another load onto your body, into your mouth or cunt or ass, or into your hair. You no longer have a distinct sense of self; you are just an object of desire to stimulate and then satisfy their basest lusts.
Even in this state of minimal consciousness, you work your tongue, your fingers, the muscles in your pussy, your sphincters, to please the men. Eventually you become dimly aware that the activity has ceased, that the men have gone, and that only Jesus stands before you. The next thing you are truly conscious for is Jesus giving you orange juice from a sports bottle. He gives you a moment to recover, and for the sugars to enter your bloodstream, before moving you to the next engagement.
The next table is just two gentlemen of indeterminate age. When the taller one takes his place between your legs, the other inspects you carefully, his dick in his hand, licking up the leavings from your chest. The other guy is licking up the cum from your thighs, belly, and pussy. He gets excited by this and plunges his cock into you, forcing the fluids within to squelch out over his balls and dribble down his thighs. His friend kneels down at his feet, jacking himself with one hand and playing with his buddy's balls. Soon the standing man gasps as a sticky digit is shoved into his ass but he continues the pace of his fucking. The kneeling man has maneuvered around to his friend's rear and has begun rimming him out with his tongue. Jesus presents him with a bottle of expensive personal lubricant, which the littler man spreads, groaning, onto his own cock.
The taller man leans forward over you, his body grinding harder into your pussy as he fucks you. He will not look at you. He grunts as his friend enters him from the rear and they quickly establish a rhythm. Soon, a huge load is deposited into your pussy again. The little guy pulls out and steps up to you. He rams his fat little cock into your ruined snatch and starts fucking you like you matter. It's an illusion though; it immediately becomes clear from the man's mutterings that he just wanted to fuck anything so full of cum. He plugs away viciously until at last he pours more cum into your sopping quim. His friend pulls him out and starts to clean off the cock with his tongue. The little man makes a dismissive gesture at Jesus, who wheels you away into the prep room while the men continue their tryst.