Red Swallow Ch. 06

Desiree's phone chimed as the driver exited the vehicle and walked to her door to open it.

- Go inside the bar, and order a drink - Carl's message read.

Abject terror made Desiree's stomach cramp. Go into a public place, dressed like an extreme fetish slut?! No way. She couldn't do it! But...the consequences if she didn't? Desiree bit her lip in a moment of indecision.

Her phone app pinged.

- You know the alternatives if you don't do what I expect -

Desiree yipped as the Stinger pulsed for less than a second. The warning was enough and Desiree moved to exit the car.

Desiree took a deep breath as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She was thankful for the long trench coat that reached down to her calves; she hung her purse on her shoulder and walked towards the entrance.

She walked into the large, marbled foyer without incident. "So far, so not so bad," she thought. The bar was further in, to the left of the front desk. She made herself walk calmly with deliberation, focusing on her balance and the lessons Anastasya had drilled into her during comportment lessons for walking in high heels. She found that the slower she walked, the easier it was to control the noise that the cat suit made.

Desiree was highly conscious of the way the latex cat suit hugged her everywhere, and the corset enforced rigid posture. With the 6" heels, she knew her hips were swaying seductively, the fringe of her trench coat waving to and fro.

She entered the bar, and was hit by a fresh wave of anxiety. She had assumed it would at least be dark - no such luck. It was a large, open room with very high ceilings, and it was very brightly lit. It reminded her of pictures she had seen once of a Paris brasserie from the 1920s, with waiters in black vests and white shirts bustling between low tables where patrons enjoyed hand-crafted cocktails.

Her phone chimed again.

- Take a seat at the far end of the bar -

She quickly noticed the bar against the far wall, which stretched nearly the length of the room, and seemed to be a polished black marble. It had silver metal and black leather bar chairs, and silver accents down its length. Behind the bar were mirrors, with shelves containing hundreds of bottles of alcohol.

Desiree made her way slowly to the end of the bar, her exaggerated figure swaying. "Of course," she thought, "he would make me walk the length of the place. What a dick."

She was turning a number of heads already, and for the thousandth time in five minutes, she was thankful for her coat. The bar was primarily filled with men, though there were a few women here and there.

Everyone was dressed up - the men in suits and women in cocktail dresses or smart skirt and top combinations. But, no one was wearing a latex outfit of course; no one else, anyway.

She reached the end of the bar, found a seat and placed her purse on the bar. As she started to climb into the chair, her phone pinged.

- Take off your coat -

Oh God no!! Desiree froze, she couldn't do it. All these people would see her! They would think she is sick! A freak!

As she hesitated, unable to decide, the Stinger pulsed again, for just a split second. The very brief, but painful shock jarred her into motion. She jumped slightly, then removed her coat and reluctantly hung it on a coat rack against the wall. She then returned to the bar and sat into her chair.

Her face burned red, and her stomach churned. She focused her gaze on her purse directly in front of her. What was she supposed to do? Driven to distraction she nearly jumped out of her skin when the bartender arrived.

"What will you have Miss?" the bartender asked.

Desiree looked up at the man. He had a handsome, New York bartender look, with a square jaw, chestnut hair, and a stubbly beard. He smiled, looking her up and down.

"Oh, you must be Desiree," he stated. "I know just what you need."

The bartender pulled out a bottle of Hendrick's gin and expertly mixed it with some tonic. He poured the mixture into a glass over ice and garnished it with a slice of cucumber.

"Thank you," Desiree mumbled, her eyes reverting back to the bar.

"So, did you lose a bet or something?" the bartender asked. "We don't get many ladies dressed up like you in here. Though, I have to say you are certainly causing quite a stir!"

"I'm just waiting for someone," Desiree replied.

"You must mean the guy who paid for your drinks in advance. He asked me to give you this note." The bartender handed Desiree a small envelope with a card inside.

"Thank you." Desiree said as she took the note. She took a sip of her drink and decided that it wasn't too bad. A little harsh tasting maybe, and then opened the note.

"Go walk around the bar - do a full circuit - and find a man to hit on. You have to get his phone number. If you don't want to do this, just remember, you can always choose the Stinger."

Desiree's heart sank. Just a short while ago as she left the Greystone, she had felt so confident and sexy. Now, she wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Desiree took another sip of her drink, and then another larger sip.

She resolved to accomplish the task. She didn't want to feel the pain of the Stinger again. It would be better to just get this over with. She downed the remains of her drink.

Desiree slid down from her chair and shouldered her purse. "Just breath, girl, walk, breath, and get through this," she thought to herself. She started walking around the bar.

As she passed tables, conversations stopped. The few people who hadn't really noticed her when she entered or when she was sitting at the end of the bar were certainly noticing her now. Women were glaring at her either in disgust, or open-mouthed amazement. It seemed all eyes would look at her and then look away in exasperation.

But the eyes of some men, the single men she suspected, were locked onto her. Desiree felt like a sheep that was surrounded by hungry wolves. The bright lights reflected off her latex outfit, making her shine.

She was halfway through the bar when a man stepped in front of her. "Darlin' are you sure you're in the right place?" he asked. He seemed to be in his 50s, and he was big, about 6'4", with a respectable beer gut, and a pudgy, florid face from many nights in bars like this.

Desiree couldn't look him in the eye, so she focused on his chins. Well, I can try for this one and maybe get out of here, she thought. "Um, I...I lost a bet" she stammered.

"Ha, I'll say you did! Must have been one hell of a bet!" the man laughed. "What else do you have to do for this bet?"

"Get a phone number from a guy."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so? Well, I can probably help you out there. But what is in it for me?" He leered at Desiree, looking her up and down.

Desiree hesitated, but then pressed on, "Well I promise I'll make it worth your while." She finally looked into his squinty eyes and managed a slow smile. What the hell, she thought; I'll never see him again.

"Give me your number, and I'll call you next weekend and give you a night you won't forget." She cocked her hip and ran a hand over it to her backside.

"Nuh-uh," the man nixed her proposal. "I've seen that movie before. Wait two minutes, and then follow me into the men's room. Otherwise, I'll tell the hotel security you are hooking in here, and they ought to call the cops."

He peered over her shoulder around the bar. "You're attracting a lot of attention, so may not be long before they run you out anyway!" And with that, he reached around to grab a handful of Desiree's ass, and then strode off to the restrooms.

"What the hell do I do now?" Desiree thought. But she knew she was running out of time and had to get out of there. She walked back to the bar and grabbed her coat, throwing it over her arm, and left the bar, heading for the restrooms.

Walking through a side corridor, she prayed that the men's room was empty. As she slowly reached for the door, though, two men exited. Desiree froze, face to face with David and John from Smith Financial. Desiree's heart sunk - she was caught.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, Desiree blocking their egress from the men's room. Then David blinked and said, "Whoa, are you going in the right one there, little lady?" He had obviously had several drinks, and was slurring his words.

John was staring at Desiree, slack-jawed. "Um, are you in the right hotel? I think the fetish circuit is further downtown, sweetheart."

It suddenly dawned on Desiree - they didn't recognize her. With her dramatic makeup and red wig, she looked different enough that they didn't know she was Dustin... er...Desiree under all this latex.

Relief washed over her, and gave her a boost of confidence. She tossed her hair, and stared back at them imperiously. "It's none of your concern where I go or what I do, boys. Move please." She didn't state it as a request.

She stepped to the side to let them exit, and they slowly did so, blinking in confusion. They walked back down the corridor to the foyer, looking back at Desiree a few times.

Desiree steeled herself, and walked into the empty bathroom, her high heels clicking on the marble floor, and her latex outfit creaking and crackling slightly. Her "date" knocked on the door from within the stall furthest from the entrance. "In here, darlin'".

Desiree made her way to the last stall. It was handicapped accessible so there would be plenty of room. She opened the door and walked in, and saw her 'date' sitting on the toilet with his pants down and his cock out.

Desiree hesitated only a moment. But her fear of her Master punishing her with the Stinger drove her forward. She stepped into the stall and shut the door; and not a moment too soon, as she heard the bathroom door open and another man enter into the men's room behind her.

Her date smiled at her before he spoke.

"Well, if you want my number you know what to do sweet cheeks." He wiggled his mostly hard cock in her direction.

"Shh...please...keep it down." Desiree whispered. She needn't have bothered as her 'date' was too loud and the acoustics of the tiled bathroom meant that even the sound of her whisper carried.

"There's no keeping this thing down now honey." The man said as he waggled his cock at her.

"Give me your number," she said with a soft hiss.

Her date just smiled at her and yet again waggled his hardening cock in her direction.

"Fine! Whatever!"

Desiree hung her coat and purse on the door hook of the stall door and then knelt down in front of her date. At least the bathrooms and the floor tiles were clean. The management of this place must take good care of these things for their rich clients.

Desiree grasped her "date's" cock and slowly began to stroke it with her latex gloved hand. Her date leaned back a little to giver her better access and spread his legs wider on the toilet.

As she stroked, she smiled at the piggish man. She knew a smile would help to excite him and get it over with faster. She had enough of that experience at COBALT. But as she continued to work his cock, she could tell by the look on his face that a hand job was not going to be enough. She would have to go farther.

Desiree leaned forward and opened her mouth to take her date's cock into her mouth. He had a smaller one, only about 6 inches and she was easily able to accommodate his length easily.

She worked as fast as she could to make her date cum. As his breathing became deeper and more ragged Desiree applied more suction with her mouth as she bobbed up and down on his average length and width.

Desire was taken completely by surprise when he came in her mouth without any warning whatsoever. One moment she was bobbing down onto his cock and the next moment her mouth was flooded with his cum.

Desiree was grateful that he came so quickly as she let his cock slip from her mouth and then turned her head and spit out his cum onto the cold tile floor.

In that position, on her knees, and at that angle, her head turned to spit, she saw a pair of men's shoes, toes pointed toward the stall on the other side of the stall door. She then heard a voice say to her.

"Can I get next?"

**

Desiree strode out of the hotel, and saw the town car parked directly in front of her. The driver opened the back seat, and Desiree got in.

In the back seat, of course, was Carl. He was wearing a black suit with a vest and a white shirt with a square collar. He looked a bit like he'd just stepped out of the old movie The Matrix. He had a shit-eating grin on his face, and Desiree suddenly had an overwhelming desire to punch him in that grin.

"You fucker!" Desiree yelled. "What is wrong with you? I have never been this humiliated! I hate you!"

"Oh come on now," Carl replied, still smiling. "Part of you loved that, admit it!"

"No, no part of me loved it! You force me to dress like your fantasy, and then humiliate me in public? Why would I like any of that?" Desiree was feeling fatigued, so far this day had been one hell of an emotional roller coaster.

Carl's face hardened a bit. "Well, what slaves do and don't like really doesn't matter." He held up his phone, with the Master app opened, and held his finger above a button labeled "SHOCK".

Desiree settled back into the town car's plush seat and forced herself to calm down. "Whatever!" she spat, allowing herself a bit of rebellion.

Carl leaned forward and addressed the driver, "To the club, Ronald. Take the long way." And then he pressed a button and a solid-looking screen slid up between the front seats and their compartment. The car silently started to move towards their destination.

Desiree wadded up a piece of paper she had and threw it at Carl. "Here is that guy's phone number that you wanted me to get!"

"Oh, that. Keep it. I was just fucking with you," Carl smiled.

Desiree tensed up again, thinking she really would hit him, Stinger be damned. Carl saw her look and quickly soothed, "Ok, Ok, I know what you need. Just relax." He pressed something on his phone.

The butt plug's vibration mode came alive inside of Desiree. It was on a mild setting, but it instantly stimulated her pleasure centers. She squirmed a bit on her seat, trying to get comfortable. She half-closed her eyes, and tried to resist at first. Fuck Carl, she thought.

But the persistence of the machine inside her was undeniable. Soon she couldn't help but focus on the pleasurable sensations emanating from her ass.

Her anger and irritation melted away, and she began to absent-mindedly feel the contours of her body, the latex gloves sliding over the latex cat suit.

Desiree hadn't had a chance to marvel at her silicone enhanced breasts yet, and she found the sensation of holding and squeezing them to be exhilarating. The differences in the proportions from her enormous chest, to her tiny waist, flaring back out to her hips were delicious.

"That is more like it," Carl said. He adjusted himself so he could have a better view of Desiree, and his hand moved down to his crotch. He rubbed himself for a while, and then undid his belt and fly.

He reached into his underwear and pulled out his semi-hard cock. He then reached over and took one of Desiree's latex-gloved hands, and placed it on his member.

Carl winked at Desiree. "And I have next," he said with authority.

Desiree was quickly on her knees and between Carl's legs with his cock in her mouth. She knew exactly what to do.