BMOC: The Shopping Trip Ch. 03byTripleL©
This is a stroke story. It's ridiculous and unrealistic. No one is worried about STDs, sizes are exaggerated, everyone is bi (or at least the women are) and people can fuck for hours without chafing. This chapter has (consensual) public sex and public humiliation. Caveat reader.
It was around noon when I pulled into the parking lot at the steakhouse. "But I thought I could only eat your cum," said my anthropology professor, Dr. Anne Carrington (in whose car I was driving, and in whose mouth, cunt, and ass I had been enjoying myself all morning).
I turned to face her, a disapproving look on my face. "Yes. And your point?"
She was nervous, hesitant. I had slipped into her apartment during the previous night, tied her up, whipped her with a belt, and fucked her silly . Then I took her again in the morning, and since then we'd spent the day together at the mall as I bought her slutty clothes, new lingerie, and a few other things. The last twelve hours had basically been a nonstop barrage of humiliation and degradation—and arousal. So it wasn't surprising that Dr. Carrington was off-balance.
I understood why she was nervous and scared, but that didn't mean I was going to take it easy on her. When she didn't answer immediately, I sneered at her. "Spit it out, slut."
"Well, sir... it's just that if I'm only allowed to eat cum, there's no reason to go to a restaurant."
"What, did you think I wasn't going to eat? I'm going to enjoy a nice meal on your dime. You're going to watch me eat it. If you're good I'll let you eat some real food tomorrow."
"B... but I'm hungry too." She was on the verge of tears now.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to let you starve. You'll get the chance to suck me off in there. If you do a good job you might be able to do it twice before I finish eating."
Dr. Carrington opened her mouth as if to protest, but a sharp look from me cut her off. She looked down at her feet and said, meekly, "Thank you, sir."
We got out of the car without another word. Dr. Carrington looked like a frightened rabbit, her eyes flitting nervously from side to side. It was a good look for her, and a big change from the confident, forward image she had put forward as my anthropology professor. She could still put that mask back on, in front of a classroom—although she was slipping on occasion. But when we were together her deep-seated need to be dominated took over and made her something that no heterosexual man could ignore.
She had medium-length strawberry-blonde hair, which she had started to grow out at my request. I had dressed her in a partially-shredded white T-shirt that clung to her glorious, C-cup tits like a second skin and a pair of cutoff jean shorts that barely covered her cunt and ass. Of course, I paired that with some high heels that forced her to totter about slowly, highlighted the lovely shape of her legs, and made her tits and ass bounce with every step. It wasn't exactly appropriate attire for a decent restaurant, but she wasn't a decent woman (at least, not anymore), and if anyone gave us trouble I could have her get us out of it, one way or another.
We went into the restaurant without any more discussion. There were dozen or so other parties in there dining at various tables, and another four or five at the bar. Dr. Carrington drew a few looks from the other diners and the wait staff as we were led to our table. I asked for a table away from the other diners and got it; we were a bit nearer the kitchen than I'd have liked, but it was the best that could be arranged.
Our server was a woman who looked to be in her 30s, with brown hair and eyes. She was carrying a bit of extra weight. Normally I'd have paid her more attention, but I'd moved up in the world, and in any case I had much better pussy sitting right next to me. She gave Dr. Carrington a dirty look, obviously judging my professor based on her clothes and rumpled appearance. I could practically see the thoughts running through the server's head—what kind of whore dresses like that in public? And with a younger man? My professor-slut returned the server's sneer with one of her own, and I won't lie—I was a bit proud of how well Dr. Carrington was taking to her new life. I decided to reward her.
After the usual rigamarole with drinks and whatnot, I ordered for the two of us: a nice, juicy sirloin for me, cooked medium-rare, and a Caesar salad with no dressing for the lady. Dr. Carrington gave me a surprised look when I ordered her food, given what I had told her this morning (and again just before entering the restaurant). Once the server left, I turned to her. "You want to know why you're getting a salad?" She nodded. "Three reasons." I held up my hand and counted them off as I went. "One: it would look strange if I ordered a meal and you just sat there without eating. Two: I had them leave off the dressing, because I'll be providing it for you. I assume you understand. And three: because you did something that impressed me. Do you know what it was?"
She shook her head, a bit of pride appearing on her face. "You didn't take shit from that waitress. You're beginning to recognize that her opinion of you doesn't matter. No one's opinion of you matters—except mine." Dr. Carrington smiled at that and nodded happily. I finished up my little speech. "Now get down under the table and suck me off so that your dressing will be ready when the salad arrives."
Still smiling, Dr. Carrington slid out of her seat and under the table. I moved my hips forward slightly and pulled the tablecloth up to hide my groin. Luckily for Dr. Carrington, the tablecloth hung low enough to hide her presence from casual observation, although anyone who ducked their head would be able to see her legs—and if our server came back, she'd almost certainly see the movement under the table as my professor bobbed her head up and down in my lap. Oh well, I thought—not my problem, and not my slut's problem either.
I felt Dr. Carrington undo my belt and unzip my pants, then reach into my pants to haul out my half-hard cock. Not being able to see her work was unexpectedly arousing; every moment of contact was a surprise. Her lips closed around the very end of my prick, and she started to suck like a god-damned vacuum cleaner. I swear, it was like she was trying to suck every drop of cum directly out of my balls.
Then she started to hum—and that wasn't something I had taught her, or something she'd done before. That's when I figured out her goal—to get me off before the server returned and saw what my little professor-whore was doing. And she had been doing so well, too.
I reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair just as she started to swallow up more of my shaft, holding it firmly and keeping her from going deeper. She looked up at me from under the table, her eyes betraying her confusion. I smiled down at her and said, "Naughty, naughty, professor. Getting greedy, aren't you? Take your time, enjoy it. I know I will." A small glimmer at the corner of her eyes told me she was going to obey.
Dr. Carrington started sucking me again, her tongue broad and flat against my shaft as she slowly went deeper and deeper. I slid my hips forward slightly—making her cough briefly as my cockhead nudged against the back of her throat—and put my hands behind my head. I could feel her spit running down my length—Dr. Carrington knew what I liked, and one thing I liked were wet, sloppy blowjobs. Her hands came up and she started to stroke me, her hands corkscrewing up from my base up to her own lips, their path lubricated by her drool. She started to move her head and hands in sync, twisting her wrists, her lips forming a tight seal as she sucked me in.
It didn't take long before my pussy-pleaser was dripping with her spit and my own copious precum; streams of it were running down my length and over her knuckles. "Don't mess up my pants, slut," I ordered. She whimpered briefly, but obeyed. Her hands went down to extract my bloated sack from my pants, and she started to cradle my balls in her hands. At the same time, she pulled herself off my prick with a pop and started to lick up and down my length, the sloppy mess she'd made collecting on her tongue before she swallowed it down like a good girl.
When my cock was clean and shiny with her spit, she went right back to it, messing it up again, taking me down her throat and kneading my balls gently. She gagged briefly when she pushed herself down on me, but forced herself through it, her throat convulsing as I entered it. When she reached the base, Dr. Carrington's tongue flicked out and lapped at my balls, and I couldn't hold back a low groan.
That drew the attention to our server, who was nearby getting another table set up. She came over to me and asked, "Do you need anything, sir?" My cock flexed once when she said 'sir'—don't blame me, that word just does it for me, even when it's not coming from one of the members of my harem. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. She gave me a funny look and leaned forward slightly.
I don't know exactly what she saw, but I could imagine it. The server probably saw the back of Dr. Carrington's head, her strawberry-blonde hair a bit disheveled, bobbing up and down in my lap, quiet wet noises coming from her mouth. She blushed crimson and her jaw dropped. "S-sir, you can't do that in here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she stammered.
That's when I gave her my most winning smile and said "Don't be so hasty. My suck-slut just wanted to get her salad dressing ready."
The server was speechless, so I kept going. "She just loves how my cum tastes. Says it's like ambrosia. Isn't that right, suck-slut?"
Dr. Carrington was almost as red as the server, but she played her part. She pulled herself off my cock again, giving a little whine as it left her mouth. Then she cocked her head back so she could see the server, and said, "Sir's cum is delicious. Today I'm only eating his cum, because I like it more than people food." And then—I shit you not—she gave my cock a long lick, base to tip, gathering up the precum running down my veiny shaft and moaning as she swallowed it. I gave her a beneficent smile and stroked her hair gently, and after a small nod from me she went back to work.
I looked back up at the server, who was still flabbergasted. "You know, my suck-slut's very greedy—but if you ask nice she might give you a taste." Dr. Carrington started to suck harder and faster, spurred on by something—perhaps the audience, or perhaps the thought of sharing some of my cum with another woman. I didn't know if she was upset or turned on or (most likely, in my judgment) both at once, but it didn't matter at that moment. My hips started to buck up as she sucked at me, and I knew I wouldn't last long.
Dr. Carrington's eyes were watering as she started taking my full length rapidly, plunging down to my base before pulling her head back, sucking hard as she did. The server was still too stunned to respond. I beckoned her with one finger, and she looked around the restaurant dazedly. Seeing that no one was paying attention, she slid into the chair next to me and put one hand on my thigh. "Oh, god... your cock is enormous. How the hell is she taking it all?" she asked.
"Hear that, throat-cunt? You should be proud of what you're doing here." That got a moan from her, the vibrations running through me and bringing out another thick blob of precum. "You're going to get your salad dressing soon," I said. "Keep it in your mouth and don't swallow, you greedy slut."
Dr. Carrington sped up, sloppy gagging sounds coming from her throat, and I closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me. I could feel the server was still nearby, no doubt watching slack-jawed as my professor-slut displayed her astonishing oral virtuosity. The server occasionally muttered a quiet little exclamation as she watched the performance. "Holy shit... Fuck me... Where is it going?" And Dr. Carrington just kept up her efforts, her tongue seeming to coil around my length even as her throat convulsed and rippled around me.
As my climax approached, I opened my eyes. I gave her a few moments' warning when I was about to cum—nothing too noticeable, just a light pat on the head. But she got the message. She pulled away from me, sucking hard as she did, her lips coming free with a small 'pop.' Her hands picked up the slack, immediately coming up to stroke me as her lips slowly made their way up. She knelt under the table, eyes open, looking up at me with undisguised need in her eyes as she stroked me into her open mouth. The server was staring at her—I suspect she wanted to trade places—as Dr. Carrington sent me over the edge.
With a small grunt, I came. Streams of thick white cum rocketed from my dick, expertly coaxed out by Dr. Carrington's milking, strokng hands. I found my eyes closing of their own accord, as my cocksucker unburdened me of my heavy load. Her hands were magic—she was using both hands to stroke me, twisting them in opposite directions as they flew up and down my shaft. My cockhead was resting on her lower lip, and she tickled my glans with the tip of her tongue as she made small, pleased sounds.
"Oh... my... god!" said the server, as she saw me unload into Dr. Carrington's mouth. "There's so much!" She wasn't wrong—my first few shots left a pool in the back of my professor's throat, and it was rapidly growing as one creamy spurt after another found its target. Before long, her back teeth were covered, and still the level rose. She had to open her mouth a bit wider, making a single pearly drop spill out of the corner of her mouth and run down her flushed cheek. By the time I'd finished, her tongue was only visible as a little pink island in a sea of white.
"Remember, professor," I said, making the server gasp slightly, "don't swallow." Dr. Carrington couldn't nod without spilling her treat, so she just twitched her head infinitesimally and tried to close her mouth. But there was too much cum for her to do that cleanly, either, and when she tried a small amount escaped, running down her chin. She hurriedly scooped it up with her fingers and looked around frantically for somewhere to put it. "Perhaps your audience wants a taste," I suggested. Dr. Carrington looked at the server, eyes wide, and slowly offered her her fingers.
The server looked around nervously, and when she was satisfied that no one was watching she darted forward, licking my excess cum off Dr. Carrington's fingers. She held it in her mouth as if she was savoring it—I could see her tongue moving as she rolled it around—and then she swallowed. "I can see why she likes it," she said.
I handed Dr. Carrington her napkin and told her to clean me up—normally, this meant licking up whatever she'd missed, but in this case it was just excess spit that needed drying. She did so very well, patting me dry and gently putting my softening shaft back into my pants before smoothly gliding back up into her seat. If it weren't for her red face and chest and the fact that her nipples were standing up proudly under her tight shirt, no one would suspect anything had happened. The whole time, the server just kept watching,, too overawed to speak.
When Dr. Carrington was once again seated and breathing hard from her exertions (through her nose of course; her mouth was otherwise occupied), the server sat up straight. "That was pretty hot... but you can't do it again."
I gave her a little smile and said, "Don't worry, we won't."
"Well, uh... I'll go check on your food, I guess."
I nodded. When she'd gone, I turned to Dr. Carrington and said, "You did well again, slut. I'm proud of you." And I swear, that made her blush even deeper.
The server returned quickly, carrying my steak and my slut's salad. She set them down and then waited. "Want to see my whore fix up her salad?" I asked. The server nodded shyly, and I caught Dr. Carrington's eye and pointed meaningfully down at the bowl of mixed greens. Dr. Carrington leaned over it and let my load slowly drool out from between her lips, letting it pool in the center at first before moving her head around to ensure that every leaf of lettuce or slice of tomato was thoroughly covered. There was more than enough cream for her to accomplish that task.
A few drops clung to Dr. Carrington's lips and chin, and with a nod from me she eagerly shoveled them back into her mouth and swallowed them down. A small shudder ran through her as she did. The server opened her mouth as if to say something, but either thought better of it or lost her nerve, because she scampered off almost immediately.
"May I eat, Sir?" asked Dr. Carrington in a small voice.
"Of course," I replied, favoring her with a broad smile. "You've been doing so good today."
The rest of the meal went quickly. Our server returned a few times, her eyes on the salad. Dr. Carrington took her time eating. Whenever the server was near, my slut made a point of vocally praising the salad, even giving little ecstatic moans with each bite. It was more than I had asked for, and I was happy to see my professor getting into her new role—her new life, truth be told.
We didn't get a traditional dessert. But Dr. Carrington still seemed hungry after finishing her sperm-soaked salad, and when she looked at me with her puppy-dog eyes I couldn't let her suffer. So I took her out for a treat.
I led her back to the men's bathroom. The restaurant was a decent place, so the restroom was fairly clean and well-appointed as far as these things went—there were faux-marble countertops, and the light was low and soft. The stalls went all the way down to the floor. The bathroom was empty and we stole away into a stall, where I sat down on the toilet and once again unsheathed my prick, pumping it in my hand back up to its full (and impressive, if I may say so myself) size. Dr. Carrington knelt obediently, opening her mouth without any command from me and moving to engulf the head with pouty lips. But I stopped her.
"You've sucked me enough for now. I want to use those big..."I tweaked her nipples through her shirt, "...beautiful..." I gave one of them a little slap "...tits. And leave the top on." She looked at me, just for a moment, and then gave a small nod before pulling her shirt away from her chest and sliding my shaft in between her firm mounds. Her hands pressed them together, forming a channel for me to use as I desired. Finally, she let a long string of spit drool out of her mouth onto my cock and her chest, making everything slick and slippery.
Dr. Carrington started to rock up and down, jerking me off with her tits, her fingers interlaced in front of her. I thought I could feel her heartbeat against my cock, through her chest. "Have you been enjoying your day with me, slut?" I asked her.
She looked up at me shyly. "I think so, Sir. It's so much, so fast. But I love to please you Sir and I know you want me to be a good slut for you." Her pace accelerated, and her breath quickened. She squeezed her tits together harder. "I want to be the best slut you have."
"Even if it means going out like this regularly?"
"Yes, Sir." She sped up a bit more.
"Even if it means going to class dressed like a hooker."
"Yes, Sir. I already drink your cum most mornings... But you can do whatever you want to me." Her eyes were wide and her cheeks crimson.
"What if I want you to go to class with a toy up your dripping cunt?" She nodded, her lips slightly apart. "Or up your tight little ass?" She whimpered and nodded again. "Very good. What if I want you to walk out of here with my cum all over your face?" That made her freeze in place for a moment. I held her gaze, and she started again—slower, less vigorously. "Well, Princess? What's it going to be?"
"I... I want to be your slut. I want to leave the restaurant with your mark." The corners of my mouth turned up in a smile, and she sped up again. "Please cum on my face, Sir. Please show the world that I'm your slut."