Sweetener

"q rqfc a vghv phbyt pkuxw ifggctzawn lqx kcuxtqv"

I just barely stop myself from snorting out loud at that one. Crumpling up the paper, I put it in my pocket to throw away when the train gets to the station. I power on the laptop and start working. Checking my email, I'm pleased to see that the blood panel I ordered is back already.

That evening, after I get home from the gynecologist, I take the time to have a glass of wine before I double check that the door is propped open and all the blankets and pillows are put away. I take the little black plastic bag I got from a shop on my lunch break and head into the bedroom. Opening the package the bag contains, I discard both of them and take my purchase with me into the bed. Once I'm comfortable on my stomach with my legs spread wide, I tongue the little inflatable plug to get it wet and then raise my butt a little while I push it into my asshole. Once it's seated, I squeeze the little hand pump until the plug has spread me open as far as I can take (tonight). With that done, I take the silicone phallus and push it deep into my mouth, until I'm right on the edge of gagging, and then buckle and tighten the attached straps behind my head.

I'm ready for bed, but that same keyed up energy is demanding release, so I retreat back into my Scott fantasy, changing it up again to keep it fresh. This time I use my mouth instead of jacking him off, and I make him do all the work, putting his hands on the side of my head and thrusting his girth into my mouth over and over again. His first stringy rush of cum goes straight down my throat without being tasted, but I make him back out a little so the rest fills my mouth up, so much I cough and a little comes out my nose. It's the thought of the taste that brings me off this time, and him standing over me with my hair wrapped in his fist, looking down at me submissively.

----

On Tuesday, when Phillipe tells me good morning as I'm getting ready for my jog, I take his hand and slip it inside the front of my spandex shorts, letting him finger my pussy for five minutes. I think he enjoyed it, but unfortunately it meant I had to cut my run short, and I was in such a hurry to get to work I forgot my coffee. I really must have been scatterbrained, because when I put my hand in my pocket after I boarded the train, there was the sweetener packet. Chuckling at myself, I emptied it into my mouth (it tastes just like sugar, even straight) and read the package. This one was a real humdinger:

"iumio"

I don't know why I keep reading these, but it feels like tradition now. I concentrate on work until the train reaches the station, where I go into the public bathroom, remove my bra and panties, and throw them away before heading into the office. I'm just glad I had the presence of mind to wear a silk top this morning, my nipples look great through it.

That night, after checking the door, getting into bed, and putting in my plugs, I don't even try to go to sleep before I masturbate, I can tell it wouldn't do any good. This time Scott is plowing me on my desk, hard. I'm wearing nothing but a collar and heels, and I'm sucking his fingers while he pounds me. I don't manage to orgasm when he cums, though he fills me with so much some spills out all over my papers. I only manage to bring myself off when when he pulls me upright by my hair and slaps my fat tits back and forth a few times with that submissive puppydog look in his eyes.

----

The next morning, just as I'm getting up, Phillipe walks through the open door of my apartment. I'm hardly fit for company, I'm still naked and gagged, with the hose and pump of the buttplug dangling behind me like a weird tail. Phillipe processes this for a minute while he looks at me, then he just pulls out his cock and begins stroking it. I walk over, put my hands behind my back, and kneel in front of him, and stare up at him, unblinking. Moments later he's coating my face with a relieved sigh. He leaves without saying a word and I rush to get dressed for my jog. By the time I get back the cum on my face isn't warm anymore.

I do make it back in time for coffee after my shower, though, and my morning ritual with the packets. Unfortunately, this is the final sample, so I need to remember to buy some sugar today. I dump the contents of the packet into my coffee, and then read the message:

"zegqq rd gye amdo xy"

Groaning at the inanity, but still sad that this is the last one unless I can find out who makes them, I toss the packet into the garbage and grab my phone, first to call in sick to work and then to type in an email:

-

Tiffany Ellis, 29

18443 Skyline Rd. #1804

BA Stanford, MBA Harvard

$162K annual income

No Children, No Significant Other

Parents Deceased, No Siblings

Certified Fertile

Certified Disease Free

AAA Credit Rating

Condominium Included

Anal Virginity Included (Currently Plug Training)

98%+ Susceptibility (5 packets)

-

I strip off my clothes and set up the camera in my phone to record a movie. I slowly turn with my arms raised to show myself in every profile, and then inserting my toys. I save the movie, attach it to the email, and hit send.

Then, nude except for the sex toys, I move to the middle of my living room, where I am conveniently visible from the open front door. I kneel and spread my legs wide, lace my fingers behind my head and push my elbows back, so the girls are shown to best advantage, and wait to be claimed by the winning bidder.

As I contentedly suck on my gag and flex my ass around the plug, the only thing that bothers me is that I still don't know where to get more of that damned sweetener.