[this story comes before "In The Warehouse" so if you're keeping track, read this one before that one - David]
Joe watched her from the front window of the pool hall across the street. He shook his head. She was going to go for it. What was it about these little college bitches that drew them to this kind of action? Back in the day, it was only perverts and Bangkok whores who let themselves be used the way she wanted to be used. And the whores were making money from it.
The street was dirty, most of the storefronts had been boarded up long ago. The liquor store sign on the corner flashed '--qu-or -to-e' -- the other letters were burned out. A group of half-a-dozen rough looking kids stood outside, smoking and drinking from brown paper bags. Garbage was piled everywhere.
And still, she came.
Joe recognized her car from her description. She parked half a block down from the Brown Hotel, the closest spot that wasn't littered with broken glass or sleeping bums. Her body was even better than the photos promised - about 5'8 and trim with long blond hair. He smiled. She was a brunette but he told her to dye it blonde or don't bother showing up. The shiny red dress hugged her body like a second skin. It was tight enough to show clearly that she had no panties. It was cut low enough to show off her beautiful titties, pushed up and together by a new purchase from Victoria's Secret. The bottom was cut just below her ass, enough that the tops of her stockings showed. Black fishnet stockings and four inch heels. Nobody wore those anymore and he hoped it made her feel every inch the cheap whore she looked.
He gave her fifteen minutes to get the key from the manager, pay him for the room (he wasn't going to waste his money), and go upstairs and get into position. Joe sat down and thumbed through a magazine, pacing himself. His cock was already hard but he had a lot to do before he'd let himself fuck her. And besides, John was still on his way from the airport.
* * *
Joe went into the room and locked it behind him. She was there, his clean-scrubbed, tarted-up college girl, posed exactly as he'd instructed her. He walked around her slowly, ran his hand down the middle of her back, patted her head.
She was making small gagging noises, her belly moving up and down slowly, but she kept the rubber cock planted firmly in her throat. He'd brought the gear to the room an hour before. It was a simple contraption and she fit into it exactly. He inspected her thoroughly, taking his time, crouching down and going over her inch by inch.
Her knees were exactly fourteen inches apart and held by leather straps into two iron gourd-shaped supports. Her ankles were behind her, toes pointed straight back, the straps at her ankles pressing her shins flat to the floor. Joe ran his finger along the backs of her calves and she shuddered. He knew that the fronts of her feet - stretch as they were - were already getting sore.
Her belly lay across a steel bar, eighteen inches high from the base, just a few inches longer than her femur. That held her ass pointed obscenely toward the ceiling. That and the leather trap that lay across her shoulders. She wasn't able to buckle that herself, Joe would have do to that and he would soon. But first he needed to inspect her chest. He ran his hand across her chest and nodded, she'd done as she was told. The metal bulldog clips were in place, even though they were outside her dress. They weren't causing much pain yet but were at least giving her a taste of what was to come.
Joe got up and walked around in front of her, squatting down so he could look her directly in the eyes. Her eyes were watering and she was still gagging on the cock, catching quick breaths in between. Her nose was running and he wiped it with his thumb. Then, he smeared the mucus across her forehead and back into her hair.
Her arms were straight out in front of her, her elbows resting in another pair of iron supports like the ones at her knees. She wasn't able to buckle those either so Joe took care of it for her. The steel pole that supported her arms also supported the long, black, rubber cock that was pushing past her gag muscle. Joe put his hand gently against the back of her head and pulled her forward, pushing the cock even deeper. She gave a quick convulsion then vomit shot out of her nose and around the cock, splashing all over the steel pole and the carpet. Joe nodded and stepped back, leaving the bile to burn her nostrils and throat.
Patiently, Joe wiped up the mess, cleaning the carpet and his gear, wiping down and rinsing the leather and the brass buckles until they were good as new. He went into the bathroom and carefully took down the plastic shower curtain. She watched him through teary eyes, her nose and throat still burning. The only thing worse that that was how hungry her cunt was. He was giving her exactly what she wanted and now she needed to cum. She moved her ass, swaying from side to side, trying to make herself feel something down there.
"You really are the pig aren't you? Deviant, worthless slut. Shaking your ass like that's going to turn me on? Do you think that your" he made quotes with his fingers "hot little cunt is going to get me all worked up?" He leaned close, looked her directly in the eye. "I know you. I am in your head. I own you." She nearly came as he said it, felt her cunt lips swelling and the juices running down her leg. "Damp, aren't you?" he laughed. He spit in her face, a big glob that hung from her right eyebrow and slowly slid down her cheek. She came for the first time then.
Joe spread the shower curtain underneath her, protecting his gear. He pressed her head hard onto the cock again and she gagged but this time, she only spit up some bile, most of that through her nose. He watched it run down over her lips and hang in long, thin strands from her chin. Joe picked up the bucket he'd used to clean her up and rested the rim against the top of her head. He knelt behind and beside her, his legs leg pressed between her thighs. She immediately began humping him, grinding up and down as well as she could with the steel bar pressing into her hips.
Slowly, Joe tilted the bucket, letting the watery mess drizzle over her head, soaking her hair, her face, and the top of the red dress. She came again, sucking hungrily for air through flared nostrils.
He fucked her ass then, using her cunt juice to lube himself up. When he was finished with her, he pulled the strap across her shoulders and buckled it in place, pressing her chest into the floor and putting painful stress on her back and hips. Finally, he swung the last hinged piece up from the floor. It was measured to fit precisely between her opened ass cheeks. He took the three-inch diameter butt plug and rammed it home, then swung the metal bar upward and snapped the base of the plug into the slot that was cut there. The bar was mounted on a powerful spring. The idea was to tease her and it was working. As soon as it was planted in her ass, she started humping against it. But the spring kept it moving so she never got anything more than a horrible teasing sensation, enough to make her hot but not enough to make her cum.
Joe came around in front of her again. She was completely secured, spit-roasted end-to-end with rubber cock, still dressed but now her clothes were a soaking wet, smelly mess. She was disgusting but that was what he wanted. Let her swim in it for a while.
She'd stopped gagging on the big black cock, her throat must have acclimated to it. That was all right, he had more tricks up his sleeve. He'd pump up the inflatable cock-head later, when John was there.
He looked at her one last time. Her hands were free - nothing restrained her from the elbows forward. When he designed the machine, he gave a lot of thought to that. He could have brought her forearms straight up and secured them to the pole, or taken them behind her back, or even mounted another pole to keep them stable. But in the end, he decided he liked this design. It accentuated how useless they were. Her hands were free, unfettered, unbound, but useless. She had them straight in front of her, fingers intertwined, almost a position of prayer. He leaned forward and kissed the thumbs and she looked up at him. He couldn't tell because of the huge cock in her mouth, but he thought she smiled.
. . . is the next part 'off to the airport to get John'? or should the story end here? Send your comments . . .