Lyndseygurl's Sissy Captions

“Lyndsey. Your name is Lyndsey and don’t you forget it!”, he said to the mirror.

He studied the face; it certainly looked like Lyndsey. It definitely did not look like a man in the mirror – a man wouldn’t be wearing that shade of hot-pink lipstick that drew the eye to full, glossed, cock-sucker lips. Also unmistakably un-manly was the pink-and-purple-shaded, glitter eyeshadow, tarty bordering on drag-queen-overdone, that vied with the lips for attention with heavy eye-liner, thick false lashes, and carefully covered and drawn-on, thin, arched brows. The foundation, powder, blush, and excessive rouge were almost subtle by comparison, though they may have made an Essex-girl on a Friday night blanch. The cheap, white-streaked, black, bob wig, clip-on earring, and pink contact lenses finished a look that was definitely more street-corner-whore than man.

Seeing herself helped steady Lyndsey’s nerves and made her stomach churn less violently. She took a deep breath, placing pink-nailed hands on the dresser and leaning closer to the mirror, focussing on her face, “Hi, I’m Lyndsey.”, she tried.

She cleared her throat and tried to force her voice up an octave, “Hi, I’m Lyndsey.”

“Better!”, she decided, but tried again, trying to add some enthusiasm and tone variation, “Hi… Lyndsey; nice to meet you!”

“My name is Lyndsey; won’t you come in?”

“I’m Lyndsey; welcome!”

“Pleased to meet…”, a knock on the door interrupted Lyndsey’s practice, making her stomach heave again with the realisation that her fantasy was about to become harsh reality. She glanced nervously around the small, cheap, clean but tired and dingy, motel room, deciding that everything was as ready as it could be. The knock came again, impatient, and Lyndsey knew she could hesitate no longer; the point of no return had passed and she had no choice left.

She walked to the door, wobbling a little in the five-inch hot-pink peep-toes, and put an eye to the peep-hole. On the other side was a tall-ish, muscled but slightly flabby, square-jawed, white man wearing the agreed white T-shirt, faded blue jeans, and slicked-back hair that identified this as the “Al” she had been texting with.

First hurdle passed; Lyndsey had been terrified that someone else would knock on the door after she’d got ready. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, which didn’t work as another impatient knock amped up her anxiety again, and opened the door a crack, forcing herself to look around it at the man outside, “Hi, I’m…”

Her introduction was cut short as “Al” stiff-armed the door, firmly forcing it open and pushing Lyndsey back behind it, barging his way into the room and turning to face Lyndsey, blocking her path of escape while holding the door wide open. Before Lyndsey could protest or even say a word, the reason he held the door became apparent.

Past the door came a tall, wiry black man, in jeans and a long-sleeve-T who had obviously been waiting with “Al”, but out of sight of the peep-hole. A second man had not been part of Lyndsey’s arrangement with “Al”, about which Lyndsey had been nervous enough already. That arrangement had been for Al to fulfil the fantasy Lyndsey had posted on to an escort site in the throws of pre-orgasmic eagerness during her last “sissy play day”.

After a whole day mincing about the house in her sluttiest clothes, edging for hours on end with a big dildo up her arse to femdom videos, forced bi videos, sissy hypno videos, posting the advert, “Wannabe sissy whore seeks anonymous hotel meet with real man”, had seemed like a great idea. In the post-sissygasm shame, though, it had seemed less good and Lyndsey had almost deleted it from the bulletin board. She somehow hadn’t, though she didn’t respond to any of the many replies it got that ranged from clueless to dangerously creepy and everywhere in between.

The reply from someone calling themselves “Al” had caught her eye, though; it simply said, “Looks like you need some real cock, I need a good fuck and I don’t care who as long as they’re eager. Let’s meet and both get what we want.” 

The reduction of her fantasy, that had taken on scarily huge proportions in her mind, to a simple, obvious transaction caught her imagination and Lyndsey had agonised for 2 days before sending a tentative reply that she regretted immediately but dared not back out of once started. After a few swapped texts to agree the details, that reply had led here to a cheap motel room that Al would pay Lyndsey for, along with an extra £80 for the use of her “fuckholes” as Al had put it.

The texts had talked about where and they would meet, how she would know it was him at the door, what she would wear and what he could do. What had very definitely not been included had been even the idea that he might bring a friend and Lyndsey suddenly felt out of her depth and even more nervous, bordering on terrified, than she had before. 

She tried to brazen her way through it, putting on a smile she didn’t feel and trying again with the introduction, “Nice to meet you, uh, both, I’m Ly… Yipe!”

Lyndsey’s introduction cut off with a yelp of surprise as Al’s hand landed on her heavily made-up cheek. Not hard, definitely more for effect than pain, but stinging nonetheless.

“Shut up, slut!”, Al growled, “If I wanted you to use your mouth, I’d have unzipped!”

Lyndsey staggered back a couple of steps and her jaw dropped and flapped helplessly, not knowing how to respond to this unexpected and forceful man. Everything seemed to be going out of control and Lyndsey was getting more and more scared. With a sneer curling his mouth, the broad, muscled, but over-weight man, bordering on middle-age appraised her with his eyes. His frank, possessive gaze travelled from her pink high heels to her heavily made-up face, taking in the black fishnet stockings with their pink lace tops, the wide expanse of bare, hairless, white thigh split only by black-edged, pink suspender straps before the hem of the pink, tartan skirt so short it barely covered her crotch. Lyndsey could almost feel the eyes like hands up her body as they travelled up the black-boned, hot-pink, satin corset that nipped in her waist, didn’t do anything for her anxious breathing at this moment, and emphasised the D-cup false tits, their nipples protruding through the pink peep-hole bra that contained them under the see-through, pink satin trimmed, tie-front cropped blouse. Still upward the eyes groped her, the lip curling into a more severe sneer as they came to the pink dog collar with the tag that read “SISSY WHORE” dangling from it.

The scan, claiming at the same time it appraised, took only a second or two of Lyndsey’s stunned inaction and, as it reached the whorish makeup of the face, ended in a growled order, “Skirt up, slut; I want to see.”

For some reason, the tone of voice was irresistible and Lyndsey found her hands on the hem of her tiny skirt and pulling upwards before her brain caught up with what he actually wanted. When it hit her, she could feel her face flush and thoughts of protest melted away in the sudden shame that wash up her body from her toes as she displayed to these two strange men what was under her skirt.

It had seemed so… normal when Al had insisted on it in the arrangement – like the fantasy turn on it had been up to now. Now, with control over the “fantasy” rapidly slipping away from her, it seemed instead shameful and humiliating – all the more so because it was at his command, just like this embarrassing display.

“I don’t do men”, Al had written in the text exchange, “Whatever you got between your legs isn’t getting touched.”

“That’s fine”, Lyndsey had written back, “I don’t mind if my cock stays in my panties.”

“I’m planning to be fucking you.”

“They’re crotchless.”

There had been a long pause in his reply at this point and Lyndsey had thought with a mixture of relief and disappointment that he’d given up on the whole idea. Finally, though, the reply had come; “You got one of those chastity things?”

Lyndsey almost didn’t say yes, knowing where it would go and having not long got one to play with and only having tried it out a few times by herself, but, “Yes I do.”

“Good. Wear it if you want this to happen. I see your dick, I leave.”

So now here she was, victim of his demand and her own desire, showing the short, pink, resin tube of her chastity cage, visible through the thin, pink lace of tiny panties that barely contained it, to this strange, demanding man and his friend while the hot flame of embarrassment burnt away yet more of her control of the situation, especially as she realised that the unnamed black man was still holding the room door wide open for anyone passing to see.

Al’s sneer turned into a mocking grin and he glanced at his friend, “Wadd’ya think, D?”

The answering voice sounded a bit more refined than Al’s, smoother and higher pitched. It was hard to tell though; the reply was more in the wolfish grin and shoving of the door closed than the laconic, “Slut.”, that was the response to his friend’s question.

“That’s what I thought.”, Al’s grin matched his friend’s, “On your knees, slut.”

The order was unnecessary; a thick hand on Lyndsey’s shoulders shoved her down and if she hadn’t knelt under the pressure, she would have fallen instead. She felt uncertain; not really properly scared, but apprehensive and unsure, out of control. As uncomfortable as the feeling was for Lyndsey, it was also a turn-on. She’d played submission games with dominant women before, even dabbled with a bit of “forced bi” in BDSM play, so the feeling of someone else taking control was a part of what she craved. Still, this was different; this wasn’t a Dominatrix Lyndsey trusted calling the shots and the feeling of control being out of her hands and in the hands of two strange men was very different from the feeling of control resting with a woman Lyndsey trusted to not let things go too far.

Trembling a little, Al’s forceful actions both exciting and unsettling her, Lyndsey tried to take back a little control in the only way that seemed available to her; she reached pink-nailed hands for the fly of his jeans. Her pro-activeness was denied and she yelped a little as Al slapped her hands away growling, “Yeah, I know what you want, you slut, but no one said you could touch!”

Al glanced at “D”, grinning with a jerk of his head towards her. Before Lyndsey knew what was happening, D was behind her, bending to grab her wrists and pull her arms back firmly behind her. At the same time, Al unzipped his own jeans and, apparently wearing nothing under them, pulled out a thick cock. Lyndsey gasped on seeing it, but before she could protest the entrapment of her arms, or say anything at all past, “But…”, Al put a hand round the back of her head and pushed his cock into her mouth forcefully.

Lyndsey squealed around it, the sound muffled by a cock that the detached part of her brain guessed was about 20cm long but was so thick she could feel it stretching her lips. Her whole body tensed and she struggled against the assault, but her trapped arms and firmly-held head gave her nowhere to go and Al was very slowly and inexorably pushing her head onto his cock, the bulbous head already lodged behind her teeth and pressing against her tongue, pushing its way to the back of her mouth.

Lyndsey was torn between panic and familiarity – she’d had cock in her mouth before and it had been agreed in the texts that she’d suck Al’s cock, perhaps even bare, but the utter lack of control she felt at that moment had her heart jumping extra hard behind her fake tits. Reason deserting her, Lyndsey’s body took over and automatically did what it turned out it had been trained to do by a series of Dominatrixes with strapons and the occasional male helper; she closed her lips around the huge head and moved her tongue over it.

Al laughed cruelly, “Yeah! We got a cocksucker here, D!”

A single grunt of laughter sounded behind Lyndsey and a laconic, “Give the slut more, then.”

Another laugh and Al wasted no time in taking the advice; his hand came off his thick cock-shaft where he was feeding it into her mouth and joined the other on the back of her head. Lyndsey’s eyes just had time to widen and her throat let out a muffled semi-squeak of realisation before Al literally yanked her head onto his cock.

Lyndsey’s throat tried to gag as the massive head lodged against the back of her mouth and tried to force its way in. It wouldn’t go – it was far too thick and the brutal suddeness of the assault gave her throat no opportunity to even begin to open – but that didn’t stop Al trying to force it. He kept the pressure on the back of Lyndsey’s head, grinding the huge knob of his cock against Lyndsey’s throat opening without mercy. She couldn’t breath. Her eyes began to stream with tears almost instantly and she could almost feel her cheap mascara running down her cheeks as her sight blurred.

Still Al held her down, her body beginning to twitch and jerk against the hands holding her as her throat retched again and again against the fat lump blocking it, though there was no will behind it, no thought of struggle or escape, just her body’s reaction to the abuse.

Just as she thought she would pass out, her vision darkening, Al pulled her head off his cock, his hand still holding it. Lyndsey gasped a huge ragged breath, choking on the torrent of spit that gushed from her mouth with the blockage gone. She coughed and gasped for a moment and had begun to manage proper, if panting, breathes when Al tipped her head back, forcing her to look up into his face, “Fucking useless slut! Can’t even deepthroat properly! Maybe y’need some more lube!”

With that, Al spat square into Lyndsey’s dangling-open, drooling mouth. She felt instantly and incongruously disgusted, feeling it hit her tongue and spray over her nose and cheeks, but had no time to protest as Al forced his big cock back into her mouth, this time holding her head still and fucking his hips forward.

He started slow, ramming his cock against the back of Lyndsey’s throat, holding it there for a fraction of a second then slowly pulling back but not out before ramming in again. Lyndsey’s brain had stopped working, she felt like she was in pure survival mode, choking as each impalement blocked her throat, stopped her breath and watered her eyes again. Faster he fucked, gradually speeding up until he was jack-hammering Lyndsey’s mouth, spit drooling down her chin to soak into the material covering her fake tits, her jaw beginning to ache from being stretched around such girth. 

Lyndsey instinctively struggled to keep her teeth away from the cock raping her mouth – another product of playing with Dominatrixes enthusiastic to punish her for unsatisfactory performance such as bad strapon sucking. - almost as much as she struggled to breath satisfactorily as the massive mushroom head kept blocking her airways. 

She was out of her mind, out of control and out of options. Her hands were held firmly on the borders of pain behind her back and her mouth was nothing but a masturbation toy for a strange man who she didn’t know. Lyndsey felt like two different people; one railing against the treatment she was receiving, desperate to find a way to struggle that wasn’t futile, the other strangely accepting, letting it happen, allowing these men to use her as they wanted. There was another, though; a smaller, third part – a quiet but gleeful voice in the corner of her mind with the tone of one of her favourite Dominatrixes. The quiet voice mocked her, told her she didn’t really want to struggle at all, wasn’t really accepting what was happening to her, that she was, in fact, enjoying it, revelling in it, wanting more. The quiet but insistent voice laughed at her efforts not to bite the cock raping her mouth, told her it was because she desperately wanted to please, pointed out that her tongue was moving against the intruding cock, pointed out that her cock was straining against its resin cage, that her sphincter was twitching in reaction to how she was being treated.

Whatever the voices said didn’t really matter in the real world; it was happening anyway. Lyndsey had lost track of time so the big cock could have been pounding into her mouth for half an hour or only a minute or two; all she knew was that her head was spinning from the struggle to gain air, her eyes were streaming with tears, her jaw ached and her chest was soaked in spit. 

It was hard to tell, but the fucking seemed to be getting faster, the strokes shorter, perhaps not slamming into the back of her mouth with such deliberate force. Lyndsey could see nothing through the tears, hear little with the buzzing in her ears that accompanied the breathless dizziness, but she imagined she could feel Al’s hands tighten on the sides of her head, hear him begin to pant somewhere above her.

It wasn’t her imagination; her mouth was definitely being fucked faster now, the fat head pistonning in and out in short strokes like a jackhammer, moving from behind her teeth to the back of her mouth what felt like several times a second. The panting sound above her intensified too, like an approaching steam train on a speed run. There was a short groan and the cock stopped dead in her mouth, stuck behind her teeth, blocking her mouth opening completely as a hot, sticky jet hit the back of her throat.

The cum almost made her choke, but she couldn’t cough with the monster head both blocking her mouth and holding it so wide open, so she had to settle for desperate gagging sounds and trying to swallow to prevent more choking as jet after jet of hot cum followed it, firing into her throat and coating her tongue with its hot saltiness.

As she struggled to swallow fast enough not to choke completely, Lyndsey was dimly aware that the pressure on the sides of her head was gone. It didn’t occur to her, though, to pull her head back off the cock in her mouth. Instead, she just stayed there, limp, her mouth almost hanging onto the cock in the same way she let a lot of weight dangle from her held, uncomfortable arms. She found herself sucking the cock head, her tongue moving around it automatically, her raw, bruised, still bubbling throat swallowing down the cum leaking from it. She heard the laughter of two voices, talking she couldn’t make out with the ringing in her ears, but seemed to involve the words, “cock-slut”, “bitch”, and “whore” a lot. There seemed to be more flashes of light than the light-show behind her blurry eyes caused by the near asphyxia would allow for and it was accompanied by more laughter. Photos? She ought to be horrified by the idea, but found she couldn’t bring herself to care as her body revelled in the fact that it could actually breath now.

The cock left her mouth, the hands dropped her arms and Lyndsey collapsed forward, catching herself on her hands, her back slumping in and she panted on all fours like a dog after a hard run. Again she heard laughter, this time from behind her. The buzzing and ringing in her ears was slowly clearing and she heard the laconic amused voice, “Look at that fuckin’ ass! Bitch is begging for cock, man!”

She still wasn’t completely with it, so Lyndsey’s muddled brain tried to make sense of the words, feeling that all she was begging for right now was the chance to breathe uninterrupted. Her mind decided it was important to work out because it sounded like the assault on her body might begin again from another direction, so her addled brain tried to work it through.

She was on all fours; a traditional fucking position it was true, but surely the man could see she was just recovering? Trying desperately to catch her breath? It was also true, though, that her tiny, pleated skirt was in no way long enough to cover her arse in this position. That meant it was probably resting on her hips and leaving her panties almost completely uncovered. Her panties being uncovered meant that “D” could see that she had chosen slutty, pink lace, crotchless panties that left her arse hole – or what Al in the texts had referred to as her “fuck-hole” when they agreed he would get to sample it during this meeting – completely exposed while doing little more than semi-covering her chastity cage and balls in pink lace. At least, it would have meant her fuck-hole was exposed. Instead, after deciding on getting to the room that she ought to be properly prepared for what she expected to happen, she had spent some time “warming up” her fuck-hole with several toys, starting with a small vibrator and working up to a good-sized rubber cock. She now remembered telling herself in a transparently self-justifying way after she was done, that she didn’t want all that preparation to go to waste and had pushed a buttplug into her fuck-hole “to keep it properly ready”. What “D” could now plainly see was the wide, flared base of that buttplug nestled between Lyndsey’s arse cheeks, probably with the poor ceiling light winking at him from the large, multi-faceted, pink gem that adorned that base.

Lyndsey’s muddled mind had just finished working through that puzzle while her breathing slowed to merely heavy pants, and her hearing and eyesight cleared a little, when once more hands took hold of her head, lifting it. Her now only slightly blurry eyes saw the “D”’s dark arms extending out each side of her head, both helping and forcing her back to a kneeling position. Once she was steady, one hand moved, reaching into the jeans right in front of her face and scooping out what looked like to Lyndsey’s still blurry eyes an impossibly long, black snake-of-a-cock. 

Her eyes widened, fixated on the approaching pole in awe; it was so long – easily approaching thirty centimetres – though nowhere near as thick as Al’s beer-can-thick monster. This cock, her hand would actually probably encircle completely and, as the flared, dark pink, circumcised head nudged against her hotpink lips, her hand did exactly that. Completely without her volition, white fingers and bright pink nails circled the dark shaft and glossy, plump, pink lips parted to invite the flared head inside while the hand now behind her head pulled her forward onto it.

The trepidation was still there, and she still felt utterly out of control of the situation, but without the intense, brutal, barely possible to endure, mouth-rape, Lyndsey suddenly felt on more familiar ground and her body responded the way it had been trained; she began to suck in earnest, her lips forming an ‘O’ of vacuum behind the head, her tongue seeking out the sensitive spots around the flared ridge, especially underneath, and teasing into the eye. Her hand began to stroke the large amount of hard shaft that remained outside her mouth and her other automatically raised and began to gently squeeze and nail-tease the heavy, dangling balls below.

D grunted and his hips began to move, sliding his long cock a few centimetres deeper into Lyndsey’s mouth and pumping slowly. Lyndsey, still working instinctively and unable to properly gather her will, took this to mean she was doing a good job and doubled her efforts. D began to move his hips just a little faster and Lyndsey’s stroking hand sped up to match. His long cock slid slowly deeper and deeper into Lyndsey’s mouth until, even with her pink-nailed hand wrapped like an open fist around the base of his cock, the flared head was nudging the very back of her mouth every time he pushed his hips forwards.

It wasn’t comfortable – the rough pounding that Al’s thick meat had given the sensitive flesh there made it feel like D’s cock was hitting on big bruise – and the urge to gag rose slowly with each hit, but without the blocking of her airways and the impossible stretching of her throat opening, Lyndsey could cope. Her unfettered, out of control mind, desperately trying to get a handle on this utterly unanticipated situation, threw up an observation it probably thought would help; it offered that D’s cock was actually a lot easier than sucking a strapon because the head was softer and didn’t jam so painfully against the back of her mouth as the many strapon cocks that had also been pushed back there in the past.

As much of her mind as she could gather focussed on trying to do the job right, it took Lyndsey a few bright flashes before she realised it wasn’t lack of oxygen that was making light flash before her eyes. She canted her head up a little, the cock still fucking in to her mouth, and looked up just in time to see another bright flash right in front of her eyes, meaning the only things she could make out were the phone being pointed at her, the paler fingernails holding it and the white teeth grinning below the bright eyes in the dark face behind the phone.

Lyndsey’s stomach turned over; photos had been no part of her agreement with Al. The opposite in fact; she’d gone out of her way to say that their meeting should be as private and discreet as they could make it. Clearly Al had had no intention of honouring that from the moment he’d agreed – Lyndsey now realised that the flashes before hadn’t been her air-starved brain at all, but Al taking pictures of her with his cock in her mouth!

She didn’t have much time to worry about it, though, because D slipped his phone back in his pocket and pushed Lyndsey’s hand away from his cock shaft, at the same time pulling her closer. The firm but gentle pressure on the back of her head pushed Lyndsey down until D’s cock was right at the back of her mouth. The detached part of her that felt like a spectator as these two men used her how they wanted noted with amazement just how much of the black shaft she could still see past her own nose with the head starting to make her gag.

D wasn’t satisfied, though; the pressure grew and, though Lyndsey struggled a bit bracing her hands against D’s thighs and trying to push back, she was pulled inexorably closer. Her eyes bulged as she felt the flared head force its way into her throat and keep going. Her throat tried to gag it out but all she succeeded in doing was massaging the thing and make D groan, “Oh, yeah!” as her nose pressed into the trimmed, rough tangle of pubic hair above his cock.

Lyndsey gagged and squirmed, trying with everything she had to pull back as D held her against his belly for long seconds, her breathing once again at the mercy of the man using her. He let go of her head and the sudden lack of resistance made it fly back off his cock, her body instinctively steadying itself as her mouth opened wide and she drew in a huge, wet, ragged gasp of air.

The respite didn’t last long; D’s hands were back on her head, pulling her gasping, wide-open mouth back onto his cock before her lungs had finished sucking in all the air they could manage. Again, the long cock pushed into her throat – this time almost without resistance – and her nose pressed ito the musky tangle of pubic hair. Again, he let go after a couple of seconds, letting Lyndsey rock back, swaying and gasping.

The third time D pulled her onto his cock, Lyndsey let out a muffled yelp of surprise, spit running down her nose as well as drooling from her mouth around the plugging cock when a sharp, stinging snap sent a jolt of almost-pain from her left buttock where it was exposed under her tiny skirt by her vulnerable kneeling position. D let out another laconic, “Yeah!”, as if he enjoyed the feel of her yelp and another painful snap hit her other buttock, making her do it again.

Though she was far more concerned with breathing than the almost distant pain, Lyndsey vaguely identified that Al was behind her using his belt to cause the sharp sensations in her ass. Two more quick snaps and D let go of her head again to allow her to reel back, gasping.

Lyndsey’s head turned ot looking wetly reproachful at Al as he stood there grinning, belt in hand, but her attention snapped back to D as his hand landed on her cheek in a sharp but not vicious slap.

Her blurry eyes lifted to meet his and he growled down at her, “Work it, bitch!”

Partly through instinct, partly fear, but mostly through having no choice tinged with a tiny bit of desire, Lyndsey’s hands and mouth hurried to obey.

Her pink-nailed fingers circled the dark shaft and heavy balls and the pink, drooling lips once more slid over the flared head as Lyndsey began to suck cock like her life depended on it. Her mouth created a vacuum effect, her tongue thrashed and circled the head and shaft as her head bobbed, one hand pumped the base of the shaft that she could not easily take in her mouth and the other teased and massaged the heavy balls. Her mouth pumped up and down, voluntarily taking the long shaft in until her lips met her hand and the head nudged into the opening of her throat.

Every so often, D’s hands would take hold of her head and she learnt it meant her hand was to move off his shaft so he could pull her balls-deep onto his cock and hold her there for a few seconds. She also learnt that she only had a second or so of gasping after this before she was expected to resume her eager-appearing work.

All the while, she tried desperately to cope with the repeated hot stings of the end of Al’s belt on her poor arse. The worst was when the end of the belt curled underneath and snapped on her balls, barely hidden under the thin, pink, lacy panties. This never failed to make her yelp and squirm and spasm, which often earned a light slap from D, though she suspected he enjoyed the sensation her sealed caused. She instinctively tried to close her knees against the painful assault, but Al would just force them apart again with his foot and she came to know that each time she was held balls-deep on D’s cock there would be at least one assault on the remains of her manhood. She found herself begging silently as she worked the black cock with her mouth that the end of the belt would snap past her sore, arching, burning balls and instead expend most of its forced on the resin tube of her chastity just in front. Unfortunately, Al’s aim was too good and it didn’t happen nearly as often as Lyndsey hoped.

Lyndsey’s entire world shrank to the cock she served, the belt that abused her, the struggle to get adequate oxygen into her lungs, and D’s long, strong fingers on her head holding her on his cock. The crude comments from the two men, mostly Al, above her head faded in to just noise and she entered a world of pure instinct and sensation that lasted until she realised everything had stopped and there was no longer a cock in her mouth. 

She knelt there, all but collapsing as she sat back on her heels, her face a wet, hot, red mess of streaked, smeared makeup, her blouse and lingerie soaked in spit dragged from her mouth and still dripping from her chin. Her breath came in quick pants as oxygen finally became plentiful and her mind tried to think back to whatever exchange between her two tormentors had led to this reprieve. She couldn’t remember, but she had a feeling she might be in trouble.

She was right; Al’s hands caught her under the armpits and lifted her bodily from her kneeling position on the floor. She just had time to register that he was now naked before he literally tossed her like a discarded towel onto the room’s king-size bed, which creaked alarmingly. Lyndsey had the wind knocked out of her slightly and took a moment to recover – a moment she didn’t have as Al yanked her arms above her head and knelt on them, trapping them, his thick cock leaking precum onto her forehead as it rested there.

He leaned over, his cock trailing across her face leaving lines of precum and her own spit, smearing her wrecked makeup even more, and caught her flailing legs, pulling them up towards him and bending Lyndsey almost double.

Lyndsey’s alarm rose as the spiralling feeling of being utterly out of control and in danger grew with each departure of the two men from anything that she had agreed to when she thought she was just meeting Al to suck his cock and maybe get fucked to fulfil her fantasy of being a dirty sissy whore. This was so much more, so much worse, so out of control that the only thing stopping Lyndsey panicking and trying to scream or yell or call for help was the growing realisation that 

she was getting off on it. She could feel the throbbing of her balls, the aching pressure against the chastity cage, the sticky wetness of the front of her panties where she had leaked into them. The knowledge that some part of her loved it made their treatment of her all the more humiliating, which just drove her arousal higher. At the same time, another part of her knew that this reality was a long way from her masturbatory fantasies and wouldn’t necessarily turn out as well, and that kept her on the edge of panic.

Lyndsey flailed to no avail against the strong arms and legs trapping hers and exposing her shamefully, and she managed to gasp out, “No! What are you….? Stop!”, as D, now also naked, his ebony skin glistening with a light sheen of perspiration in the bad light, knelt on the bed opposite Al, his knees almost under Lyndsey’s up-turned arse, his long, hard cock head waving in the air above her chastity-filled panties.

She yelped as D swatted her upturned arse-cheek hard where the stretched skin of her buttock, already marked from Al’s belt, met her thigh. Above her head, Al growled, “I told you to shut the fuck up, slut! The only use we have for that hole in your face is when we put something in it!”

A moment later, his order became moot; Lyndsey felt D’s fingers grasp the jewelled base of the butt-plug lodged inside her arse hole and yank it out roughly. Lyndsey’s yelp of surprise and pain opened her mouth wide enough that D had no trouble pushing the warm, slimy, metal toy into her mouth, effectively gagging her as well as humiliating her further.

Lyndsey tasted the almost minty, tingling flavour of the anal lube, but in her imagination she could taste her own arse on the toy even though she had cleaned herself thoroughly in preparation. Her teeth clacked against the steel as D slapped her arse again and she squealed. 

Lyndsey’s squeals, though, increased in pitch, volume and urgency when D leaned down and spat wetly between her legs. As Lyndsey felt the humiliating wetness drip from her balls and slither across her twitching arse pucker, she saw D take hold of his cock and realised that he was guiding it bare and raw towards her helpless arse. Bareback had been absolutely no part of her agreement with Al – they’d agreed that he would use a condom if they got as far as sex and in fact Lyndsey was supposed to have had the choice of a condom for the agreed-upon oral sex. Now it looked like the long, black cock would violate her without any protection at all and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Her eyes went wide, she shook her head and squealed around the buttplug blocking her mouth, she tried to kick her legs against Al’s large hands wrapped around her ankles, she tried to worm her arms out from under his shins where he knelt on them, as a last resort, she tried to squirm her arse away from D as he leaned in holding his hard cock down to point at her hole. It was all to no avail; D simply wrapped the long, black fingers of his spare hand around Lyndsey’s inner thigh near her stocking top and squeezed. Lyndsey was pinned so helplessly by Al that this effectively held her immobile and, helplessly wide-eyed, she watched the long, black cock come closer and closer until the flared head dipped out of sight behind the bulge of the chastity cage in her pink panties and she felt it press against her slippery pucker of her hole. 

Lyndsey’s next squeal a moment later was one of pain as well as shock; despite her instinctive pushing against the invading cock, which she had learned from many strapon sessions eased her muscles to accept the violation of her arse, D was not gentle and his cock head big compared to the toy she had used to prepare and the plug she had used to keep herself ready.

D drove his long cock mercilessly into her arse until his thighs slapped Lyndsey’s buttocks. Lyndsey screamed around the plug in her mouth as she electric shock of the sudden, forced stretching of her sphincter pulsed through her, the flared, head feeling momentarily like it was ripping her apart. Her scream stopped a second later when the long shaft drove that head so deep into her guts it felt like it was about to come out of her throat and all the breath went out of her.

D’s hands rested on her raised, stockinged thighs by her knees and he began to fuck hard and deep. The breathless Lyndsey managed a groan as she felt the long, hard cock slide out of her arse until the flared head pressed against the inside of her sphincter, then drive back in almost viciously until his thighs slapped her buttocks and his balls banged against her tailbone.

Again and again D fucked into her, impossibly deep and taking her breath away each time. Lyndsey had experienced toys as long, but whether it was a dominant Mistress of herself pushing them into her, it had always been done more slowly and gently. This was neither; this was hard, relentless and getting faster with each stroke. This was a strange, black man using her the way he wanted with no regard whatsoever to what she might enjoy. 

She couldn’t move, could barely breath, couldn’t make a noise to protest. If Al had let go of her at that point, she would have collapsed like a rag-doll, all volition fucked out of her by the unrelenting invasion of that long, black cock deep into her body. Even the pain of the rough violation couldn’t move her to action, it just spread through her lower body like an aching pool of shame while the pounding continued unresisted.

Lyndsey felt helpless, breathless, worthless; like nothing more than a masturbation toy for this unknown man – an object he pleasured himself with and would discard when he was done. Still, she became aware of the weak, breathless, panting, little moans she was making in time with the fucking, became aware of the heat spreading out from somewhere between her violated arse hole and her aching, trapped balls and cock that turned the pain into something else entirely. She felt it build, felt the heat of it, the pressure of it, like an urge to pee that wouldn’t go away, that became all consuming until it flooded her entire body and made her head spin.

It didn’t stop and neither did the fucking. Lyndsey floated in a detached world where the only parts of her that existed were that hot, aching, flooding sensation connected on one end to her breathless, moaning pants that had now nothing to do with protest, and on the other to the masturbation sleeve that was her arse – her cunt really since it was only there to serve the cock that pushed into it over and over.

The words the men above her spoke over their toy she couldn’t make out in her detached state, but suddenly her breathing got slightly easier as the plug blocking her mouth was plucked out. Her unfocussed eyes saw the fat, white, semi-hard cock of Al raise over her face as he knelt up. Instinctively her mouth opened wide, both to breath and to accept the inevitable cocksucking that was required of their toy.

It turned out she was wrong; the cock swept past Lyndsey’d unfocussed, tear-blurred eyes along with the heavy balls and the hairy, white flesh behind descended towards her face. Still the unrelenting, hard, flood-inducing fucking continued unabated making real thought impossible. Something like panic set in once more as her already laboured breathing was restricted by the hairy, sweaty, white flesh of Al’s arse pressing onto her face. Her nose was buried in the crack, his arse hole against her lips and it became even harder to breathe.

The corner of her mind still keeping track cringed in disgust at this new huiliation, but there was nothing she could do; the insistent cock filling what felt like the entire length of her body over and over in a driving rhythm denied all control and all resistance as the hot, wet, flooding sensation spreading through her body from her violated cunt-hole continued unabated.

She screamed into the sweaty, musky arse blocking her face – a weak effort due to the lack of air – as pain returned, throbbing in her balls from being viciously stretched. Somewhere above her, Al growled an order and it registered vaguely that it was the second time he’d said the same thing. It took a third time and another focussing, painful yank on her ring-bound balls before her slow, scattered consciousness worked out he’d told her to, “Lick my fucking arse, bitch!”

Without conscious choice, Lyndsey’s tongue pushed out from between her plumped, still pink lips and lapped weakly at the sweaty, puckered flesh above even as her body tried to flinch away from the sour taste. From somewhere above, she heard something that sounded like, “Fuck, yeah!”.

The action somehow anchored Lyndsey’s muddled, floating consciousness back in her body. It gave her no more strength or control over it, no more air in her lungs, but it made her intensely aware of every single sensation in her used body. Most of all, she could feel D’s long cock pistonning in and out of her body in a relentless, hard, fast rhythm. She could feel the ripple of the flared head drive from just inside her until it lodged deep inside her bowels near her ribcage, feel his muscled thighs slap hard against the backs of her thighs and her buttocks, feel his heavy balls swing against her tailbone, feel it push the air from her lungs hotly and wetly against Al’s arse hole in a tiny, mewing pant, then feel that long, rock-hard shaft pull back until the head stretched her sphincter from the inside.

Had she fought against it, even been capable of movement, his cock would have slipped out on the back-stroke, or at least ruined and slowed his merciless, pounding rhythm, but she didn’t – couldn’t. All she could do was lay there, helpless and strengthless and bserve her own violation.

Every sensation was intensified in her senses; she could feel Al’s shins across her biceps like bands of fire, his big hands ringing her ankles, even the texture of the fishnet stockings under them. She could feel the occasional slap D gave her arse with his long-fingered hands, feel she shape of his fingers, feel the outline of each red patch he left and where it hit the belt marks Al had given her. 

She could feel every ripple of Al’s arse pucker as her tongue ran over it, feel the way it slowly opened to her weak licking, letting the tip of her tongue slip in with each pass, even feel the hair of his crack as she licked, seemingly unable to stop herself. She could taste and smell the sweaty, sour odour of Al, feel and hear the restricted passage of air in and out of her lungs that seemed to happen because of the fucking instead of her own effort. She could feel every bit of clothing on her body from the corset binding her tummy to the upturned heels on her feet. She could hear the rhythmic slaps of flesh-on-flesh of her fucking punctuated by grunts of the two men, counterpointed by her own muffled, breathless yips and moans. She could see every hairy detail of Al’s arse and back rising above her

She could feel her balls, tight, aching, sore, one pain from bouncing painfully in rhythm with the pounding, another from the tip of the belt that had struck them, another dull throb that could still feel where Al’s fingers had stretched them, another from a lesser stretching at the root, this from the tight ring of the chastity cage as her cock strained to get hard in the small, pink, resin tube.

The realisation made her want to sob. She would have cried out in utter humiliation if she’d had the breath or control to do so, but she did not. All she could do was take it, accept it. Accept that she was being used without choice by these two men and that her cock was trying to get hard because of it. Accept that the flooding sensation in her body radiating out from inside her fuck-hole was an almost endless sissygasm that wouldn’t stop, that every time D’s cock thrust over that special spot just inside, the intensity built higher. She had to accept that the soaking wet stickiness of her panties against her sore balls and leaking slimily down her arse crack to lubricate D’s relentless cock was the evidence that her body’s desire for exactly this treatment. Worse, she had to accept that, despite her mind crying in self-loathing and humiliation at the act of licking Al’s arse hole, it had only made her sissygasm more intense to the point where rather than just dribbling cum into her panties, her straining cock was trying to squirt it in a long flood through the small eye at the top of the chastity tube and the lace of her panties as her body shuddered weakly but uncontrollably in reaction.

Lyndsey’s senses were so heightened that she could feel the moment that D’s cock began to twitch and jump as it fucked her, feel the difference in his slapping balls as they tightened, feel the slight change in his rhythm as he sped up and shortened his strokes. She actually managed a faint squeal into Al’s arse as she felt the first, strong jet of cum shoot inside her. D kept pumping as he emptied the seed from his balls deep into Lyndsey’s bowels; the very first man ever to do so. She didn’t know his name, barely knew what he looked like, hadn’t even spoken a word to him and he was cumming unprotected inside her. An experience she had fantasised about but never sought in real life, even with men that Dominatrixes she had played with had involved, because of safety concerns was now happening without her choice. She tried to worry about it, but all her body would let her focus on was her senses and the almost continuous, ebbing and flowing, anal orgasm that continued to consume her helpless body.

For the almost overwhelming intensity of the sensory barrage Lyndsey was receiving, it still took seconds for her to realise that the fucking had stopped, that where the long, black cock had been pistonning in and out of her, there was instead the gaping, aching hole of her cunt, that the hairy arse that had been smothering her face, the arse hole she had been licking had gone. Still, her body shuddered as her sissygasm continued to deliver aftershocks and she could not gain control of her limbs as she lay there legs akimbo on the bed, panting with her eyes once more blurred with sweat and tears.

Her vision cleared after a few seconds, in time to see that D and Al were swapping places either side of the bed. Her eyes were irresistably drawn to the cocks that had used her; D’s was still hard, though bowing a little from the diamond-hardness that had relentlessly invaded her hole, Al’s beer-can cock was once more rock hard, the head fat and glistening and Lyndsey knew that her ordeal wasn’t over.

D grabbed the stool from the dressing table, Al a couple of the plump pillows from the top of the bed. Lyndsey might have protested, tried to get up and refuse whatever they had in mind, but the merciless pounding D had given her and the minutes-long, intense sissygasm had left her weak as a kitten. She couldn’t even lift a hand, could barely find the strength to turn her head a bit to follow their movements, and her quick, panting breathing allowed her no more speech than a series of panted, “What..? What…?”, attempts that both men ignored.

Al stacked the pillows by Lyndsey’s shoulders and knelt onto the bed, D standing at the side above her head. Easily, like moving a sack of potatoes and with no more regard, the two for them flipped her over face down and lifted her almost limp body onto the pillows. She felt her chastity cage grind against the top of the pillows as Al put her hips down on them, her arse the high-poit of her body. She found her shoulders on the edge of the bed, her head hanging over the side and tried to bring her arms, that barely seemed connected to the instructions of her brain, underneath to steady herself.

D, sitting on the stool in front of her, his cock waving and poking her in the face, slapped her hands away roughly and held her shoulders, looking over her to say to Al, “You better get in first; I don’t want this bitch biting my dick off when that fucking thing of yours stretches the cunt.”

It was the most she had yet heard D say at once and the smooth, cultured voice sounded oddly incongruous around the vulgarity and dehumanization of his words.

Al just laughed. Lyndsey felt his heavy weight move behind her on the bed, felt his hand and knees force her thighs wide apart as he knelt between them. His hands moved to her buttocks, his fingers digging in to the hot, spanked flesh, his thumbs prising her cheeks apart roughly. He laughed again, “Fuck me, you filled the slut up, D!”

Lyndsey felt a stab of shame and self-loathing that she’d not stopped the unprotected almost-rape of her hole and that she didn’t protest the casual use of her body without even considering she might refuse. She told herself she was simply unable to because of the state she was in after the fucking, but the truth was that as weak as her body was at that moment, her will was weaker. She simply couldn’t bring herself to fight, not against the two men enjoying her body, but against her body itself, which despite its abused state was hungry for more of what had made it feel so intensely.

Her body didn’t have long to wait; Al hawked and spat on Lyndsey’s arse, then again. She felt the massive, bulbous head of Al’s cock nudge between her slippery arse cheeks and press against her abused hole. That and Al’s thick fingers digging hard into the flesh of her arse was all the warning she got; her scream was high-pitched and loud as Al’s weight piled onto her and his impossibly thick cock forced its whole length into her sore hole in one brutal, continuous push.

All breath went from her body and her scream became soundless, her eyes blind with the pain. The pain was intense, it felt like the pole impaling her was ripping her apart – probably would have ripped her apart if not for the stretching and lubrication provided by D’s long, hard fucking – and shocks of agony spread outwards from her over-stretched sphincter. Al felt like a ton-weight on her back and she might have slid away fro him off the bed if not for D holding her shoulders. 

Far from clenching her teeth as D had feared, her mouth stayed wide open in a soundless scream that made her jaw ache as a counterpoint to the agony below. Al pulled back slowly – much slower than he had pushed in – and Lyndsey felt the moment the monster left her body. She felt wetness dragged out with the cock slide down over her balls to soak her tiny panties even more. Lube, cum, blood, even shit, she had no clue and no time to wonder. She heard Al spit again, felt it land inside her arse hole and briefly worried just how much the monster had stretched her and whether it would ever close again before all thought was blotted out by the second invasion of the can-like cock.

It hurt almost as much as the first, though neither man seemed to care. Al began to pump, not pulling out again, but sliding slowly in and out to begin with, stirring the intense, stretching, pain around her lower body. D apparently decided that Lyndsey wasn’t going to shut her mouth any time soon and lifted her shoulders, dropping the wide open hole in her face into his lap, over his semi-erect cock.

Al slowly sped up and D took hold of Lyndsey’s head, moving it up and down his long cock until both big cocks were pumping balls-deep into each end of her body. This wasn’t the anal orgasm-inducing pumping of D’s fucking; this was brutal using! The stretching pain gradually faded a little, but that didn’t make the brutal use any more pleasant, nor did either man seem to care one way or another.

Lyndsey felt completely de-humanized, nothing more than a toy for the two men to play with. The only thing that made her feel like anything other than a rubber sex-doll that the two men were masturbating into was Al’s large, heavy hands repeatedly spanking her already hot arse in an unpredictable rhythm that denied her the chance to detach her consciousness from the situation once more.

The men kept going, absolutely unresisted by Lyndsey, who didn’t have the the will or strength to do more than twitch her hands helplessly and make panting mews, gagging sounds and breathless yelps as the cocks pumped into her holes at each end and the hand landed on her sensitive flesh. Lyndsey’s personal humiliation completed itself when, despite almost every fibre of her being praying for this impersonal, degrading, painful, uncaring use of her body to be over, she felt once more that urgent pressure like needing to pee and felt the heat spread out through her loins from inside her cunt-hole as wetness spread into the pillow under her.

Still the two men did not stop, Lyndsey’s hole squealing still in anguish with each rough thrust of the impossibly wide cock, her breathing utterly at the mercy of the hands that lifted her strengthless head off the once more rock hard shaft that impaled her face and blocked her airway each time it was lowered into the black man’s groin.

Al came first, grunting noisily and fucking even harder, dragging more pain from Lyndsey’s abused hole just wwhen she thought she had finally accommodated the thick monster. Spent, he stayed inside her, leaning his weight onto her back and arse, clearly enjoying the uncontrollable twitching of her hole that massaged his cock. The weight made her back bend awkwardly as D carried on pumping her head up and down his cock, using her mouth to stroke himself and adding yet another new pain to Lyndsey’s tortured body.

Minutes went by before D’s breathing quickened and Lyndsey felt the hot, salty spurt of cum hit her tongue. D quickly whipped his cock from her slack mouth and held her head to the side, stroking his own cock to spray several heavy spurts of sticky, milky whiteness onto the side of her face, hitting her in the eye and dripping from her nose and cheek to run down her chin and into her mouth.

Al laughed again and the two men high-fived over Lyndsey’s body. All pulled out, eliciting a broken mew from the spent toy and leaving her with a raw sensitive awareness of slimy leaking and moving air inside her gaping, vacated hole. D stood and let Lyndsey’s head flop down over the edge of the bed like a marionette with broken strings.

She felt a foot against her side that pushed her over so she sprawled boneslessly over onto her back on the bed. She watched with her body shuddering in reaction and her fuck-hole screaming its pain at her while the two men ignored her and retrieved their clothes. She could barely move enough to re-arranged her awkwardly angled leg, certainly couldn’t speak and her breath was still coming in gradually slowing pants by the time the two men were dressed.

They finished and seemed about to turn to the door. Lyndsey tried to move herself, move her jaw, suddenly feeling that she was forgetting something. Al glanced at her, laughed, then said something to D that she didn’t catch. D stared at Lyndsey narrowing his eyes, then laughed too – a low, smooth, sarcastic sound – and nodded back at Al.

Lyndsey’s returning breath caught in her throat, stopping the protest that tried valiantly to escape as the two men turned back and came round the bed, grabbing one of her wrists each. They dragged her bodily off the bed and all but dropped her in the middle of the floor at the end of the bed. Lyndsey was still struggling to bring her breathign under control enough to form words by the time the two men had unzipped their flys and pulled out their cocks.

Lyndsey finally managed to take a semi-deep breath and opened her mouth to demand to know what they were doing now. The words never made it out of her mouth, forced back down her throat by the hot, strong stream of Al’s piss that hit her square in the open hole, choking her and splashing across her face. A second later, D began to piss on her to, even harder, straight in her face, the hot piss stinging badly in her eyes, robbing her of sight.

The totally unexpected and extreme humiliation made Lyndsey want to cry again. She would have if not for the hot, stinging piss in her eyes and the sour piss filling her mouth that made it impossible. She’d played watersports games in BDSM play before, but this was nothing like it; this was pure, dehumanizing degradation, a fun thing for the two men to do to the toy they had just used, with no more consideration for the recipient of their waste than they might give a urinal in a public toilet. It was disgusting, it was humiliating, it was filthy and Lyndsey burned with shame that once again, in spite of how much her balls had emptied being fucked and how much she hurt, she was straining against her chastity cage – especially when D aimed his hot piss down her body and stopped with the strong stream directly at the still panty-covered pink resin tube.

Lyndsey gasped, choked, and flailed weakly, unable to get out of the way of the nasty, soaking assault, and unable to convince herself that she even wanted to. The piss hitting her face and mouth slowed, then stopped. Moments later, so did the piss stream playing over her sluttily-clothed body. She gasped for air, choking, coughing weakly, gagging, almost retching. Perhaps she would have thrown up if she’d had the energy, but she did not.

Through blurry eyes, she saw the two men, presumably zipped up by now, heading once more for the door and it finally came to her what she’d forgotten. She forced herself up onto one shaking arm and, just as D opened the motel room door, managed to croak, “You…”, a half choke before she could continue, “You said you’d pay…”

D stopped, the door to the corridor wide open, but Lyndsey couldn’t even bring herself to care any more. Al turned back, laughing, “Oh yeah…. Almost forgot.”

Blurrily, she saw him pull his wallet from his back pocket. He riffled through and pulled out a few notes as he stood above her and simply dropped them into the cum and piss-soaked mess of her lap.

He turned once more and followed D from the room, pausing in the doorway to look back, “Same time next week, slut?”

Lyndsey’s face flushed and she opened her mouth to do her best to scream at him that he must be joking and he’d be lucky if she didn’t call the police on him. By the time she’d managed to draw breath enough, she found she had already nodded jerkily at the blurry figure in the open doorway. She heard, “Yeah… next time you beg for it, bitch.”, from his retreating back before the door slammed shut.

Lyndsey sank back wearily into the puddle of piss under her, feeling slime oozing from the agonised, gaping hole between her legs. Every muscle in her body ached and her face, arse, balls, and locked up cock throbbed with heat and pain. Too tired to even move from the filth she lay in, Lyndsey closed her eyes, her mind beginning to replay everything that had just happened, knowing she would absolutely be in this room again next week and wondering whether she would even survive the next encounter.