Plaything

The life of a Plaything wasn't all that bad, actually.

Nobody cared about what you did on your off hours, when the collar was taken off and you were fully dressed. You could have a spouse, children, hobbies, even a social life outside of the job.

You were sterilized, of course, so there was no chance of pregnancy from an unwilling donor, and you had an implant to make certain you could neither catch nor carry any diseases. There were rules against hurting Playthings--a bit of spanking and rough fondling was fine, but if anyone drew blood, the fines were exorbitant. You were given injections, too, to make you tougher and stretchier, so if someone wanted to use your cunt as a makeshift wine bottle cubbyhole, they could without causing damage.

That did not necessarily mean it was comfortable, however.

Amelia, who had her knees hooked wide open over a steel frame and a slender bottle of red wedged all the way up to her cervix and on full display, had been rubbing out orgasm after orgasm through this corporate function, and no one had removed the source of her frustration yet.

She was just considering another one when a well-dressed, portly man came up to inspect the bottle.

A flicker of disappointment and hope crossed her mind--maybe he would be the one to claim it?--but both were ultimately for naught.

Instead, he popped the much more slender plug out of her ass and unzipped his pants.

Amelia had only the time to remind herself to relax before the head of something blunt and huge and hot took its place.

The penetration forced a shriek out of her throat, tears spilling from her eyes as the bottle was rammed even deeper, the smooth curve compressing her g-spot, dick and bottle stuffing her so full and tight she couldn't even breathe--

Her cries got louder and louder as the man thrust, slick and easy because of the lube and the cum of all the men that had done this before him, the neck of the bottle bobbing against his lower abdomen as the body of it deep-massaged every erogenous area accessible within Amelia's cunt.

One hand wrapped around the neck, angling it both better and worse within her, and he groaned in satisfaction while Amelia keened.

She came like that, ecstasy nearly shattering her mind with how full she was like that, her aggressor entirely apathetic to the whole thing except for a muffled grunt when she contracted, and simply kept going.

Her eyes were still rolling and her breath was still sobbing when a voluptuous woman in a tiny black dress came up to her platform.

"Oh, do be quiet," the woman said, kneeling over Amelia and placing a knee on either side of her head, "and make better use of that mouth."

Amelia moaned brokenly into the woman's warm cunt, but licked as best she could through the post-orgasm stimulation.

The woman was riding her face before long, moaning softly herself as she got wetter and wetter and wetter, helped along by the noises muffled in her muff as the portly man continued to pound Amelia's ass.

It drew a crowd, as Playthings in use tended to do, and soon, Amelia had a dick in each hand for stroking and fondling and pumping. Her coordination was all off, but one of the men had her wrist to guide her and the other didn't seem to mind, and it was like that that she felt pulses of spunk filling up her back end.

The portly man pulled out and left, grabbing a few too many complimentary wipes on the way.

Amelia's reprieve was brief. The portly man was immediately replaced by another cock--smaller, thankfully--which started off easy but quickly picked up a brutal pace.

A hand--who knew whose hand--reached out and tweaked one aching nipple of one of Amelia's voluminous breasts, and jolted all of them with the resulting twitch.

The man who had her wrist creamed on her upper stomach, then politely cleaned up his mess with a wipe before he went.

Another load of cum went into her ass as the woman on her face started to flutter and twitch, and Amelia was immediately distracted by a third cock taking its place.

On and on the rotation went, until Amelia lost count of the cocks she had taken and stroked, of the cunts she had fingered and licked, of the playful fondles to evoke her twitches and clenches, but, eventually, the party guests who were interested had all come a time or thrice and trickled away one by one.

The last one to pound her ass took the bottle of red with him, and Amelia was left to lie there, limp, coated in a thin layer of hastily-wiped sex fluids and exhausted pleasure.

She flailed to her right, to the small case of water that was left for her, cracked one of the bottles, and sat up just enough to chug it.

It was a pity one could not truly hydrate from vaginal fluid and cum, she often thought to herself. Her job would be so much easier then.

She glanced at the clock before she laid down.

Just three hours left.

---

"Hey," said a man from his cubicle, in that specific voice people used for Playthings. "Three, bring the sheet."

Amelia, also known as Number Three, or just Three, looked up from where she had been sitting against the wall, then got up to retrieve the sheet, 'the sheet' being the colloquial name for the large protective bib that the workers spread over themselves, so any of the Playthings' residual fluids wouldn't mess up their nice outfits.

After he had her spread it over him, he indicated that she should sit on his knee and lean back against his chest as he worked on his reports.

One of his hands went to one of her ample, perky, freshly cleaned tits, and idly fondled it as he worked, tracing circles around her nipple and then pinching it as he thought, and kneading the whole swell when he was frustrated.

She felt sort of lopsided for a good half hour, one breast being erotically stimulated while the other was left neglected, only enough to drive one of her free hands to her clit once, but then he had her sit on the chair between his legs and paid equal attention to both in between tabbing through documents and waiting for files to save.

She didn't touch herself just yet, enjoying the stimulation for what it was, but then he had her kneel on the floor and hold his half-hard cock in her mouth when his work started to require more typing, and Amelia got herself comfortable and let her hand start tracing lazy, delicious circles around her clit for shivering orgasm after shivering orgasm.

---

Number Two, whose name Amelia had worked very hard not to know, toasted her with his water bottle as she staggered out of the break room, his erect cock shiny wet from recent use and a band around the base to match the band around his throat.

It was a cock ring specifically designed to keep his cock firm and erect at all times without hurting him. He had told her that it mostly worked as intended, though it wasn't any fun to itch to shove his cock into something for six hours straight, and had an extremely active sex life outside of work because of it.

Amelia had nodded and made all the right noises and simply not mentioned her pillow princess of a wife and she had come to an agreement that Amelia would receive only cuddling after a long day at work, and sex had to wait until the weekends, at least.

(That had bent a bit after they decided to have a baby and her wife's libido and emotional neediness had both gone through the roof, but Amelia could hardly hold it against her, and had put in as many requests for time off as her sponsor would let her take.)

Right now, her stomach was nearly protruding from all the cum that had been pumped inside her, so she was wondering a bit if her lovely spouse would be disappointed with a sexless evening.

Two passed her a water bottle; Amelia only took it, not entirely sure she could drink it.

He nodded to her abdomen. "What's up with that?"

"Work party," she groaned. "So much cum. Biggest kegel ball I've ever seen still in there. God, I'm bloated."

"No shit," he said under his breath, eyebrows climbing as he looked at her belly, then passed her two of the snack bars. "Eat up, drink up, yada yada."

She grimaced as she took them.

"You get off four hours from now," he pointed out. "Life'll suck if you don't."

Amelia groaned and conceded the point, consuming it all and flicking her way to another orgasm before she could go in and get edged to death again.

She was pumped even fuller the next two times she was called in, and then the boss strapped her to a frame and pulled the plug out of her cunt and it all spilled out of her like a deflating balloon.

Of course, watching a Plaything emptying her cunt of twenty-plus loads of cum only seemed to fill the onlookers with the deep desire to fill it up again.

So they did.

Amelia was putting in an educated guess that this was going to be a fixation for her workplace for a few weeks, like that time everyone decided her holes were passe and fucked, fondled, and sucked her breasts instead.

Oh well.

There were worse things, she supposed.

---

That night, she got to simply lie in bed with her wife, both of them dressed in their softest pajamas and snuggled so close they may have well been fused together, breathing in the scent of girly shampoo while her wife undulated lazily against her thigh, soothing the kind of touch starvation that only Playthings had.

Together, they talked about movies, and what they were going to do on the weekend, and about her wife's sillier cravings and what mess her brother had gotten into this time, and all in all, life was pretty okay.