A Dog's Tale

The rest of Christmas flew by. Every morning, Tawnya would use me as her toilet, and twice Stan used me while I cleaned her. I’d always wear my collar; it gave me a sense of purpose.

Tawnya and Stan took me into town; they fitted me with a brand-new wardrobe—pretty skirts, panties, and tops. Our tiny little town had little to offer in variety; I could be cute, pretty, and even elegant. There wasn’t much in the slutty whore category, which was too bad, because that fit my mood on most days. Tawnya and Stan insisted I come to the city with them, and they promised to spoil me rotten and slut me up real good.

Tawnya taught me all her makeup tricks, and I was a fast learner. Sometimes, I’d get turned on watching my transformation in the mirror: from cute teenage boy to elegant, flirtatious girl or, my favorite, teenage tramp and cum-dump.

I would strut around the house like a temptress, and rarely did I get turned down. Some nights I slept with Mom and Dad; some nights, I spent sleeping on the floor in Tawnya and Stan’s room, listening to my brother taking her. One night, I spent sandwiched between Aunt Chloe and Monique, to Shaquila’s great delight.

The best night I spent with Mom and Dad. As Dad watched his cum flow from me, he put his hand on my arm; his voice showed genuine love and concern, “What have you become, Ritchie?”

“What do you mean?” I moaned, still recovering from his massive release inside me.

“You…dress like a girl now, and you flaunt yourself to everyone. Don’t get me wrong, your mom and I both really love fucking you, but have you no concern? I’ve seen you with the stable boy; I know you fuck your brother and sister; Chloe has developed a weak spot for you.”

“You’re wondering if I’m still your little boy or if I’ve become your little girl? Are you asking me what to call me?”

“We’re just trying to understand how you identify yourself, Rich,” Mom added.

“Identity? I need you to identify me through your eyes as Stan and Tawnya do; to them, I’m a dog, a sweet, horny little bitch. Chuck sees me as a sixteen-year-old boy he once fucked on a trek down to Florida. To Aunt Chloe, I’m a thing of beauty, a delicate little fuck-toy. In her eyes, I’m a sweet little pussy that sighs deeply at the thought of her cock. To Shaqula and Monique, I am a prop, a device to incorporate into their games of give and take. Monique gives, and Shaquila takes. Mark? I think Mark sees me as his girlfriend, although he’s usually on the receiving end. I love to watch his cute little face when I make him cum.”

I paused and looked at my parents; their gazes revealed a long and slow thought process.

“Your logging crew took turns on me, Dad. To them, I am a cheap little whore with a cock, and they believe Chuck gifted me to them as a Christmas bonus. I enjoy being pretty; it turns me on. Besides, it’s so much easier sneaking a cock into me in a skirt than in pants. So, the real question, Dad, is how do you see me?”

My Dad had always been a practical man. Words, however, only came easily to him if he talked about forestry, machinery, or farming.

“It’s OK,” Mom whispered, “I…we get it. I no longer see my son in you, partly because of what Stan and Tawnya have transformed you into, partly because of your cute little outfits. I love the sweet little sounds you make as you cum, how your lips twitch, and your nose wiggles. Yet, I don’t see you as my girl, either. There’s something about you that sets you out.”

She paused. She was giving the room time to breathe.

“We’ve never shared Tawnya or Stan. Their relationship is their own. Have we been tempted? You’ve seen your sister; she’s truly beautiful. Why would we not desire her? And Stan? When your father works his long days, why wouldn’t I dream of Stan while I rub myself into orgasm?”

Mom’s breath deepened as she sat closer to me; her hand, much in a reflex, found her crotch, and she started to rub herself.

“When I saw your spying gaze through the kitchen door the other night, I started seeing you differently. The desire on your face and realizing it was me you longed to be, that was what made me cum like I did.”

Mom’s breath burned on my neck as she sat on my lap, rubbing herself intensely.

“The droplets of tales I was served, your dad telling me how you had taken all of him in the car, and you sprayed like a fountain when he fingered your ass. Chloe, pounding me into a frenzy, telling me you make the same face I do when you cum.”

Mom’s hand on my back dug its nails sharply into my skin, and she moaned deeply as she bit into my neck. Her spray covered my stomach, and as she finally relaxed, her eyes met mine again.

“It’s just…We want you to become more than your Uncle George…our brother,” she halted at the last word, making sure I understood what she was telling me.

“So, you’re telling me we’re your little incest babies?” I said, looking for the final confirmation.

“You were made from love, all of you. Perhaps not the kind of love eagerly accepted by their world, but the love between your father and me is stronger than they can comprehend. We may be brother and sister, but you’re our children, and we love you—possibly more than any children have been loved.”

There it was, Aunt Mother and Uncle Dad, fornicating their incest offspring and asking me how I identified myself. I was still leaking Dad’s cum out my ass, and Mom’s flavor still lingered in my mouth, and she had just sprayed her cum all over me.

For the umpteenth time in a week, my mind was blown. Of course, I should have seen it, but I had grown up a simple farm boy and accepted everything I was fed as truth. Why would I question anything? Besides, my mind worked at a superior rate to Mom and Dad’s, perhaps because I had a simpler, more straightforward way of thinking.

“That is so fucking hot,” I whimpered.

“Unfortunately, your grandparents didn’t see it that way. When I fell pregnant with Tawnya and Stan, and they found out who the father was, they signed the farm over to your father, packed up and left. We believe they settled somewhere in California, but we’re unsure.”

I had just accepted the absence of grandparents on my mother's and father’s sides. We had asked when we were younger but had accepted that it was a topic our parents didn’t want to discuss. We had had plenty of time to fantasize about their fates; being part of a satanic cult and sentenced to lifetime imprisonment was Tawnya’s favorite. For the longest time, Stan figured the lake monster had eaten them, and I was convinced the evil witch in our forest had taken them.

I liked the truth better and wondered if my grandparents ever dared to fuck again, in case they ended up with another batch of incestuous whore-children.

I slept like a child that night.

***

Unfortunately, all good times seem to end, but I viewed it as transitioning into something else.

Aunt Chloe and Uncle George were the first visitors to return home. The day before they left, they took me to the cabin by the lake, where they recreated the scene she and I had observed with Shaquila. Bound to the table, they had used me in all imaginative ways; they napped and ate, eating off my naked body, before they retook me.

Finally, they untied me, and as they kissed, they fed me their urinating cocks, and I drank and showered, already longing for the next time.

I didn’t get to play with the twins before they left; their last night was spent in Mom and Dad’s room with Aunt Shelly. It was ok; Stan took me on the floor by their bed with Tawnya watching.

The girl in my dreams was gone. Rather, she had materialized within me; she is me. I no longer need to visit her in my sleep; she embodies me.

By New Year, it was just our little family, and I felt slightly neglected as Tawnya and Stan disappeared into their room while Mom and Dad went to a neighboring farm to celebrate.

The following day, Stan returned to the city, leaving Tawnya in a foul mood for a few days, and the feeling of total neglect was utterly overwhelming. I had been reduced to being responsible for my orgasms, but going back to hand jobs and fingering myself was deeply unsatisfying.

January blues didn’t feel much better. Tawnya would take me with the strap-on several times, but it was nothing like the real thing. Dad was busy running the farm and returning to his early morning, early bedtime routine. Sadly, Dad’s busy schedule made Chuck’s workload heavier as well.

Mom fucked me often; sometimes, Tawnya’s pee still lingered in my mouth as she came to my room to ride me; other times, she’d call me to the kitchen and have me take her on the table. Some nights, she didn’t even wait for Dad to fall asleep before coming into my room to have her desires quenched. Mother was delightful, but she didn’t have a cock.

Fortunately, I had Mark, but he liked receiving more than giving, which I didn’t mind, but you know. There was an absolute and impending draught of cocks to please me, and it was clawing at my soul.

Mid-January brought about some change. It was early morning, and Tawnya startled me as she jumped onto my bed.

“Sorry,” I gasped, sure I had overslept our morning ritual.

She laughed at my startled face, straddled me, and kissed me. It was only then I noticed she was naked.

“I’m pregnant!” she said, “I’m fucking pregnant with Stan’s baby!”

She beamed with joy, and I couldn’t help but share her happiness. Granted, it wasn’t that long ago I had asked her in the downstairs bathroom what the hell she was thinking, but her and Stan’s devotion was absolute; it made perfect sense. And if my owners were happy, it made me happy.

“That’s…” I struggled to find the right words, and it ended with a simple “wonderful.”

“You’re so thick, sometimes, puppy,” she giggled, “It’s fucking awesome, granted. But it also means I can fuck you! You can cum inside me, and I can drain you!”

She didn’t wait for my response as she started grinding her crotch against my morning rigidity; we both knew she didn’t need my approval.  

“God, I haven’t had a cock in me since New Year, and ever since I walked in on you in the bathroom that day, I’ve not been able to get your cock out of my head. Can you imagine how hard it is for a girl not to be tempted in this house? Watching Monique and Shaquila, their cock greed? And you, my little puppy, the hungriest little pussy in the house. Is there a cock on this farm that hasn’t had you?”

She lifted herself off me and pulled my covers to the side before lowering herself onto me, grinding on my cock.

“It pleases me,” she moaned, “that my pussy can get you this intensely hard. You’re not just a filthy cum-dog, are you? You know, that night downstairs, when you cleaned me so good? I struggled so when you sucked onto my clit, but had I let you do that, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I would have fucked you. Imagine me and Stan raising your incest baby? This family is fucked up enough as is, don’t you think?”

She slid herself onto me. Fuck, she’s such a tight pussy. Her eyes shone differently; before, they would always gleam in excitement at using me, pushing the limits of my demeanor, and asserting her ownership over me. That morning, my sister made love to me, and when she came, she told me to fuck her and fill her up.

That bubble only lasted a few short weeks until she packed her bags and moved to the city, joining Stan in his flat.

The day Dad drove her into town to catch the bus, she caught my saddened eyes.

“Hey, puppy,” she said, “I’ve arranged for you to come and stay with us in a couple of weeks. We’ll go shopping for more clothes, we’ll get a cage for you to sleep in, and while Stan’s at work, you can fuck me when I get horny. Stan misses your little butt; I’m sure he’s looking forward to doing you just as much as you do.”

As she turned to walk out the door, she hesitated, “But not as much as I look forward to watching him take you. That’s my vice; nothing turns me on as much as watching the two of you fuck.”

It was two long weeks of waiting. I thoroughly used Mark to get through it. If I imagined myself to be Stan and projected myself onto Mark, I could make his pleasure my own. I would strut down to the stable and grab him, leaving the other boys to do his work. Sometimes I’d suck him off and leave him wanting more; other times, I’d pull him into the barn and fuck his brains out. I didn’t care if the other guys heard us; I didn’t care if they knew Mark was my bitch or if they thought I was his.

One day, though, I put him in place. He had to understand my needs and that if he wanted to keep me, he needed to please me.

It was a Friday, and the afternoon was nearing evening; Mark and three other guys had just fed the horses and finished cleaning the stable when I walked in. I kissed him and dropped to my knees, pulled out his cock, and greedily took him in my mouth. I wiggled my ass at the spectators. Mark struggled to get hard in front of an audience, but I sure as fuck didn’t. I knew they could see my cock stretch at my panties, then escape and throb excitedly between my legs.

Mark never could resist my mouth for long, and I enjoyed the look of embarrassment on him as his cock deceived his shyness and grew in my mouth. His cute cock throbbed, and his adorable little moans started escaping him.

I turned myself around and shot my ass in the air.

“Take me,” I panted.

The other three guys were cute. Simon had done me in our hallway on Christmas Day. He was a handsome devil in his early twenties. I do not know the others' names, but they knew who I was. Their employers…daughter?

I loved the confusion on their face almost as much as I loved Mark pushing inside me. They couldn’t take their eyes off us, off me, and stood frozen against the far wall, trying to hide their arousal from each other.

“You guys are cute,” I panted between Mark’s thrusts into me, “Don’t be shy. Drop your pants and join in.”

Simon didn’t need much encouragement; he grinned as he approached me and moaned as he pushed himself down my throat. Fuck, how I needed this. Simon grabbed the back of my head and started fucking my throat.

“Greedy bastard,” I thought, remembering the two other guys left without a hole to pound.

I managed to pull myself free from his cock, and catching my breath, I whimpered, “You know, you can fuck Mark as well.”

The gasp of shock escaping Mark was cute, but his thrusts remained steady. Simon walked behind me.

“Is that true, Mark? You’ve been hiding your pretty little ass from us?”

Whatever resentment Mark had for me seemed to escape him as soon as Simon pushed into him. I could feel his cock throb hard inside me and knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Those other two boys seemed to lose their inhibitions and eagerly served me their beautiful cocks; two little fuck sticks fighting over my attention; as soon as one was in my mouth, the other hollered for my attention. It was almost a relief feeling Mark spend himself inside me, accompanied by his little sulks.

Simon let him collapse to the floor, where he crawled under me and took me in his mouth. Simon wasn’t done, however, and I watched him take (my boyfriend? What an alluring thought!) whatever Mark had become. I loved how Simon took him.

I also loved how I no longer had to decide which cock to please; I just had to decide which one I preferred where. Again, it didn’t really matter, they both deserved to fuck me, and I let them figure it out. I wasn’t going to let them cum inside me; I had something better planned.

I could feel whoever pounded my ass started to tense up, so I told them to switch.

“You really want me to make you cum, don’t you sweetie?” I teased the panting teenager.

His reply was just a muffled moan.

“I want you all to cum on my face.”

Simon, ready to burst inside Mark, pulled out and was the first to blow his load in my face, the other two followed suit, and their spraying cocks, their stinging seed in my eyes, and their guttural groans as they showered me made me shoot my load deep down Mark’s throat.

Satisfied, for the first time in weeks, I left them there.

“You should take good care of them, Mark,” I said, “They’re all decent fucks.”

Dad questioned me about the unforeseen overtime they put in and sighed when I told him they were still cheaper than hiring prostitutes to serve me.

Mark didn’t speak to me for a few days, so I went down to the stable and grabbed him, and took him to my room, where I fucked him all through the night. His father sent text after text, wondering where he was, and I told him to say he had to work late and spend the night at the farm.

I believe Dad was happy to see me gone the day he drove me into town to catch the bus. Minneapolis was only an hour and a half away by car, but the bus would spend almost twice as much time on its slow journey and many stops.

I had made myself particularly pretty that day. I wore the boots Tawnya had given me, the ones I wore that day Chuck and I…picked up the Christmas tree. I had a tiny grey skirt and a short, skimpy black top with long sleeves. My hair was a messy cascade of black locks, and although toned down, my makeup enhanced all my pretty features. I smiled at the geeky-looking teenage boys sitting in the front of the bus and even more so at the cute, elderly couple further back. I observed the look on the man in his early thirties and giggled at his wife’s jealous stare. I strutted with confidence and loved how everyone seemed intimidated by my beauty.

I found a seat near the back, put on my headphones, and pretended to be interested in my book. In reality, I observed. The group of teenage boys seemed to be looking forward to some big gaming event in the city, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much it would blow their little minds if I had them fuck me in the back of the bus. I wondered how the married couple in their thirties would react if I straddled him and told them to take me home and fuck me. Would she let me?

I watched each new passenger who entered the bus at her stops. I labeled them and sorted them into groups according to what I envisioned them doing to me. The young, black man who had entered with his daughter caught my eyes, and I smiled my shyest smile at him and fluttered my eyes. He smiled back and turned his attention to his daughter.

The creeper didn’t get on the bus until halfway through the journey. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with intense eyes. He sat opposite me, across the aisle, and I could feel his eyes staring intently at me. My mind reacted with caution, but my body responded with desire.

Desire always won. Despite the warnings echoing in my mind, I found myself leaning slightly towards him, just enough to catch his eye. A sly smile tugged at the corners of my lips, a silent invitation. My fingers toyed absentmindedly with the hem of my skirt, inching it up ever so slightly. I could see behind his eyes how he started peeling back the layers of what little clothes I wore,

When he pulled out his cock and started masturbating, I knew my eyes gave me away. I looked around, making sure the little girl was nestled safely with her dad, and the racket from the teenage boys eased my worry about someone hearing him tugging at his cock.

I licked my lips in anticipation and gasped silently as he shot his load onto the back of the seat in front of him. As he tucked his cock away, he blew me a kiss, and I smiled back at him before settling back into my seat. He should only have known the urge I had to have him cum in my mouth.

Once more, before arriving in Minneapolis, we recreated our little game. I couldn’t help but moan softly as he sprayed the back of his seat again. I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or regretful when the bus finally halted and sighed at the Greyhound Station.

I waited for the other passengers to hurry off the bus, and he did as well. When the aisle was clear, I grabbed my handbag and stood up, and so did he, his gaze following the sway of my hips. It was late afternoon when I stepped off the bus, and the chilly February air clung to my skin. I spotted Stan and Tawnya waiting in the terminal, but instead of heading inside to greet them, I turned right. I fished my phone from my handbag and texted Tawnya, telling her I’d be right back.

I felt his stare burning into my back as I strutted down the street. Away from the din of the bus station, I could hear his footsteps echoing behind me. A shiver crawled up my spine, and my mind questioned whether my feet truly understood what I was doing.

I turned into a narrow back alley. Behind the dumpster, I leaned against the wall and waited for him.

When he appeared, he stopped, his eyes locking onto mine with an intense gaze. Slowly, he approached until he stood right in front of me.

“How much?” he asked.

My heart raced, and I struggled to catch my breath.

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” I whispered.

“How much to fuck you?”

“Whoa, I’m not sure you have the budget for that, sweetheart,” my voice responded with surprising confidence.

“I’ve got fifty bucks. What do you say?”

His voice was intense, almost matching the intensity of his stare.

“Fifty? That barely covers a blowjob, honey,” I whispered.

“Then get to work,” he said.

“Money first, sweetheart,” I insisted.

He fumbled through his pockets, pulling out two crumpled twenty-dollar bills and ten worn singles, which he handed me. I placed the cash safely in my handbag and then dropped to my knees.

“Show me again what you got,” I said, and he unzipped and pulled his cock out.

It reeked of urine and cum, so I greedily accepted him into my mouth. I heard from his moans that he hadn’t anticipated the ease with which I let him down my throat. If he hadn’t already cum twice, I would have drained him easily, and those fifty bucks would have been robbery.

However, my body deceived me once again. When I released him from my mouth, he got angry and threatened to beat me and take his money back.

“Relax, tiger,” I whispered, “I changed my mind. You can fuck my ass.”

I turned around, and he pressed me up against the wall. His rough hands pulled my hips and pulled my panties down, forcing my ass onto him. As he pushed into me, he growled to my ear, “What’s your name, bitch?”

“Cindy,” I panted.

“You like being fucked like a cheap slut behind a dumpster, Cindy?” he growled.

“Fuck, yes,” I admitted.

I’m sure my trembling orgasm felt empowering to him as he made me cum almost instantly, but he took his time with me. There was nothing sensual about the way he took me; it was pure animal instinct. He played the role of dumb, drooling dog perfectly, and I was her willing little bitch. Finally, his drained balls mustered a final release, and he collapsed onto his knees in a panting heap.

I clung to the wall for a bit, collecting myself before pulling my panties back up and straightening my skirt. As I turned to go back to the street, I heard him hiss something behind me.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Dirty, filthy whore,” he hissed.

“Dirty?” I pondered, “Perhaps. Whore? Indeed. Filthy? I’m the cleanest piece of ass you’re likely ever to see.” I hissed.

When I pulled out my cock, the fire in his eyes died, and when I emptied my bladder onto his face, he just closed them and opened his mouth. I left him in the back alley; it seemed he’d gotten his fifty dollars’ worth and then some.

***

“What the fuck was that?” Tawnya wondered as I entered the terminal.

“I had some business to take care of,” I said with a grin and showed her my fifty dollars.

“What? You…with that creeper?”

So, they had noticed him following me and still decided to stay inside the terminal and leave me to whatever fate awaited? Fucking hot.

I recounted my journey, emphasizing his arrival and how he had sprayed the back of that seat. Then, I continued to describe the scene in the alley, and it amused me to see the shift in their faces, from shock to arousal, then to disgust and shock again.

“For a mere fifty bucks?” Tawnya whispered.

“The fifty bucks were for the blowjob; the rest was for my pleasure,” I grinned truthfully.

“Let’s get you home, puppy,” Stan sighed, shaking his head at me.

It wasn't much of a drive; it would have been easier if I had walked from the bus terminal. As the elevator pinged its arrival on their floor, excitement rose inside me. I had never visited Stan since he moved to the city, and I was eager to see his new place. It was a newly built building with all modern amenities. Stan spoke, and the apartment listened, offering a seamless blend of technology and decadent comfort. The large kitchen featured top-of-the-line appliances, and the spacious den was perfect for entertaining or relaxation. With two well-appointed bedrooms and two luxurious bathrooms, it provided ample space for comfortable living.

As Stan talked, he reverted to the cocky metrosexual persona, masking his farm boy roots and, to be honest, turning me off a bit. He enthusiastically detailed the latest home automation features: intelligent climate control, smart lighting, and keyless entry, all managed via a dedicated app or voice commands.

He proudly showed off the building’s amenities: a large rooftop patio with stunning views, a state-of-the-art fitness center equipped with the latest exercise technology, and a spacious pool for relaxation and recreation, complete with a sauna.

I sighed in relief as Tawnya ushered me into the shower and took my discarded clothes. Once I was done, she put my collar and leash on me and led me into the den. They had bought a new mat for me, and she instructed me to lie on it while they prepared dinner. She ruffled my hair and praised me, “Good boy!”

They served my dinner in a large stainless steel dog bowl and offered me another bowl to drink from. They sat at their table and planned the following day. Tawnya would take me out shopping, and Stan reminded her I had to be ready by six.

Once I finished eating, I crawled under the table and lay at Master’s feet.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Tawnya said.

“We need to make a few stops to get her a new wardrobe and perhaps pick up something for myself. I need to do some grocery shopping, and I might take her to the park.”

“Mmhmm,” Stan replied.

“She should be good and ready by six. You will record for me, right? I’m so envious I don’t get to be there!”

“Mmhmm,” Stan moaned.

“She’s sucking you under the table, isn’t she?” Tawnya gasped as Stan grunted.

He pulled me out from under the table by my hair and pushed my head down to the floor. He rammed into me, possibly for my disobedient behavior, taking his cock without permission, but to me, it was a welcome reward. I had ample time to admire his spotless floors, and when he made me cum loved how he made me lick the floors clean. He took me into their bedroom and locked me in the large dog cage, and I witnessed Tawnya and him go at it repeatedly throughout the night before curling up and finding sleep.

***

Tawnya’s soft voice woke me up as she unlocked my cage.

“Hurry,” she said, “I’m fucking peeing myself!”

She took my leash and guided me into their bathroom, then lowered herself onto my face and opened her floodgates. Her fragrance and aroma had changed slightly, and I welcomed her pregnant pee washing over me.

As the last trickle of pee left her, she moaned.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” she whispered.

My lapping tongue at her mound agreed.

We showered and dressed, and by the time we were done, I could sense her jealousy at my beauty; I truly outshone her in the mirror.

They let me have breakfast at the table that morning, and I wasn’t quite sure I enjoyed it as much. What I did enjoy, though, was Tawnya attaching my leash as we went out.

I was hard when she took me to the lingerie store, where she spoiled me rotten with a variety of naughty, dirty little things. I was dying to wear them all; Rather, I was dying to show them off.

Behind covered windows, our next stop made me woozy with its intoxicating scent: the unmistakable aroma of leather. The interior was dimly lit, with soft lighting accentuating the sheen of finely crafted leather garments and accessories displayed on sleek racks and shelves. Jackets, corsets, and chaps hung invitingly, their smooth surfaces catching the light and showcasing the meticulous craftsmanship. A wide array of skirts in all colors and shapes lined another section, but Tawnya gravitated towards the tiniest ones, measuring me with each pick and discarding those she deemed unsuitable. I imagined myself wearing them, contemplating how they would affect anyone who saw me—how they might want to take me, use me, and soil my beautiful clothes. The thought made my balls ache for release.

Next came the collars, leashes, cuffs, and restraints. Finally, the boots and Tawnya insisted on tall, lace-up stilettos, much like the ones she had worn that evening in the slaughterhouse.  Her credit card gleamed almost as brightly as her eyes, a mix of excitement and intent. Looking at the hefty stash she'd gathered, she inquired about delivery options. When told they couldn't deliver until Monday, she filled a bag with items she needed immediately and arranged for the rest to be delivered on Monday.

“I’m leaving Sunday,” I whispered.

“Gives you an excuse to visit again soon, puppy,” she grinned.

Grocery shopping afterward was excruciating, with Tawnya teasingly using every pickle, cucumber, zucchini, and eggplant as phallic avatars for every cock that had ever had me.

“This,” she said, holding up a huge eggplant, “has the girth of Aunt Chloe but, unfortunately, not her length. What do you think of small cocks, puppy?”

I didn’t know how to respond. Every cock I had been offered had been luxuriously girthy and extravagantly satisfactory, perhaps apart from Mark. His was slightly smaller and sleeker but offered me the right amount of pleasure all the same. I remembered Chuck telling me about the boy he had in the back of his truck and his description of how his little boy-clit had sprayed.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said.

“Me neither,” she giggled, and I took that as a compliment.

By the time we got to the park, I was blue-balled and aching. She pointed to the enclosure to the right, where the dogs roamed freely.

“You’re better trained than most of them,” she said. Then, pointing at the young couple sitting at the bench further down the path, “I should take you to them and have you sniff their crotch; I’m sure you’d find him already hard and her overflowing. Imagine his face as you tried to mount her?”

I begged her to take me into the bushes and let me cum, but she was persistent.

“Stan told me not to spend a drop of you today, and I’m a good mistress to my lover.”

By the time I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I was delirious with lust. When we got back, Tawnya first got me into the stilettoes and trained me. Once again, I proved to be a natural and moved with her elegance in no time.

“I fucking hate you,” she had laughed, teasing me as she finished.

I surveyed my reflection: the black fishnet stockings, the tight black leather skirt that barely concealed the clasps holding them up, the skimpy lace bra, and the sheer top that left little to the imagination. She had applied my makeup with a bold, provocative flair. The colors were intense and daring: a deep, smoky eye, dramatic winged eyeliner accentuating every blink, and eyeshadow in electric purple and fiery red. My lips were painted a striking, glossy crimson, full and attention-grabbing. Highlighter gleamed on my cheekbones, giving them a radiant shimmer, while a touch of bronzer sculpted my face with a seductive contour. Her design was clearly meant to turn heads and serve as an open invitation to take me.

Stan stood impatiently by the door, but his temper faded upon seeing me, and his prepared tirade of wasting time eluded him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said.

“I know,” I responded, my voice barely a breath, tinged with the arousal that had been building all day.

As he grabbed my leash and pulled me through the door, I had already melted within; I wagged my imaginary tail at my Master’s heel and obeyed his every command.

All through the drive, my eyes were fixed on my Master, and joy and excitement flowed through me at every look he sent me and each little touch he gave me. When he stopped the car, I had no sense of where we were or how long it had taken to get there. When he opened my door and led me by my leash, I took in our destination with keen interest. With my nose twitching, I instinctively began to sniff the air, trying to discern the scents of this unfamiliar place. The aroma blended new and intriguing, filled with hints of fresh grass, faint floral notes, and the subtle musk of the outdoors. I focused on every detail, my body poised and attentive, ready to follow his lead.

His heavy knock on the large iron door reverberated through the stillness of the approaching night. The sound echoed ominously, starkly contrasting the faint, distant hum of cars passing on a nearby road. The thrilling silence enveloped us, amplifying the suspense of the moment.

From the outside, the unmistakable sound of metal creaking echoed as the iron door’s heavy pulls were operated. Twice, that familiar clang reverberated through the stillness before the door slowly began to swing open. The soft thuds of deep bass emerged first, seeping through the door, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke and a glimmer of deep red light.

As the door fully opened, the imposing figure of a giant man came into view. His black chest glistened with oil and sweat, the light reflecting off his powerful muscles as they shifted and played with each movement. His voice's deep, commanding timbre cut through the atmosphere, instructing me to crawl at his feet. In that moment, it was all I desired to do.

I have no memory of that night, apart from Stan sitting on the deep leather couch, his phone filming every second. They had been ten men, and I still turn to mulch watching the footage of how I crawled from cock to cock, sampling them, jerking them, sucking them deep down my throat.

I get delirious at watching them mount me and take me, one after the other, while cock after cock fucked my throat. I curse the grainy footage and dim light each time I see my body tremble and the first heavy spray of cum escape me. It didn’t take long to get there, but watching my shaking thighs and hearing my sulking voice-you can almost even see the twitch of my nose and my lips tremble-pushes me over the edge every time.

The smear of my makeup from sweat and cum slowly transitions me from a beautiful little whore to a full-on slut cum-dumpster, but I greedily carry on.

When I straddle this one gorgeous stud, you can see my flopping cock dance as I ride him, all until I get pushed down and yet another stud pounds into me. That’s the one memory I do have from that night, the feeling of being completely and utterly filled and how each of their deep thrusts pushed yet another load out of me.

Their hunger is insatiable; I have no idea how many loads were deposited into me, either down my throat or deep into my guts. Near the end, they all ejaculate on me, one after the other, covering me in thick layers of their seed.

The video is on my website; depending on your flavor, you might want to stop watching at that point. The footage ends with me lying on my back, taking one final load up my ass while the rest of them urinate on me. I’m not proud of my eager acceptance, my greedy gulps drinking them, or the desperation in my eyes as their spray turns into a trickle. I’ll make no excuses for what I am, though.

I vaguely remember Stan hosing me down and carrying me back to his car. I do, however, vividly remember how he took Tawnya that night.

The following morning, he handed me the money, two thousand. He told me he kept the other half for himself.

“That’s how you fucking sell your ass,” he said with a smug smile.

I had been utterly drained and spent most of the day on my mat. I got to clean out Tawnya before I left, and she apologized for not fucking me, “Next time,” she promised.

Winter turned to spring, and with that, the timber plant shut down, and Chuck started his long hauls down south. I went with him a few times, and he took me in the sleeper of his truck as often as time would allow.

Sometimes, we’d pick up the odd hitchhiker; he was good at picking them. Most of the girls who roamed the truck stops were prostitutes, but Chuck needed the desperate ones, the runaways who needed to get from one place to another. They were willing to give it up for free in exchange for getting where they needed to go.

I remember the little eighteen-year-old who had slowly undressed in the back and, in shame, had started rubbing herself at Chuck’s instructions. Tears trailed down her face, to begin with, at each of his perverted instructions.

"Spread wider!"

"Finger-fuck yourself!"

"Stick a finger up your ass!"

But the tears had stopped as she forced herself into the oncoming orgasm, and her sweet little hulks and whimpers filled the cab. Still, when I pushed her legs up under her chin and pushed myself inside her, I could see the confusion at her situation still scrambled her brain. Her eyes had almost bulged out of her skull when Chuck pushed himself into me, but she, like all the others, greedily opened her mouth and let us shower her with cum. It was she who took the initiative in the morning, riding Chuck, and she begged us to make her cum as I mounted her and took her ass.

She smiled brightly as we dropped her off, one life lesson richer and better equipped for her next ride.

Spring turned into summer, and Tawnya and Stan decided to move home to the farm and insisted I move into the apartment in the city. Stan gave me the phone number of the man who had opened the iron door and told me they were eager to see me again.

It was the first thing I did once I settled in the apartment. The same place, the same ritual, a new price—demand and supply, I told him.

I was exceptionally good. I had more referrals coming in than I could handle, so I invited Mark to live with me. He helps me with my schedule and keeps my ever-growing wardrobe in order. Our neighbors refer to us as the cute interracial couple, and he makes an effort to woo me when we’re out. None of us are old enough to drink, but at least I have fooled enough doormen and bartenders now that I frequent enough of the hotspots downtown.

Mom or Dad calls me once daily, and I share my schedule with them and update them if any changes occur. This is a necessary precaution: my line of work isn’t without its perils.

He had raped me, fisted me, and beat me to a pulp. 

The rape, I didn't mind. I like it hard; in fact, I like it every way it is given, so I didn’t mind. It was just that 'hard' wasn't included in the fee. It wasn’t much different than when Aunt Chloe and Uncle George took me in the cottage. I was bound and used in the same way. The only real difference was, with Aunt and Uncle, I knew they wouldn’t harm me. With him, I had no sense of control, which in itself was intensely arousing, but there was something in his demeanor: the slurs he used.

If it had ended at his climax, I would have put a question mark next to his name on my list and perhaps not taken his call the next time. But it didn’t end there. He left me in that dark room until I lost track of time. When he returned, he pissed all over me and left again, only to return a little later to do me again. When he finished inside me, he grinned.

Admittedly, when he pushed his fist inside me, it had been such an intense feeling of fullness I had moaned in pure lust. As he pounded his fist deeper and deeper into me, accompanied by his slurs and degradations, he made me cum. It was the most demeaning orgasm of my life, living up to his descriptions: ‘Whore,’ ‘Slut,’ ‘Cum hole,’ ‘Toilet,’ and ‘Filthy dog’; all precise depictions of my many identities. No, I didn’t mind the fisting; in fact, it added to my repertoire while giving another layer to my perversions.

It was the beating I could have done without. I still wonder how he had stopped short of killing me. The initial amnesia was my biggest worry, and I ended up in the hospital for a little over two weeks. My memory did return, though, and when Stan, Dad, and Chuck were finished with him, he ended up in the hospital for twice as long as I did. Rumor has it they managed to save one of his testicles, but he still has a limp. A substantial amount of money also came my way: payment for services rendered plus a hefty delinquency fee.

Has it made me more careful? My line of work has no guarantees, but my new clients are mainly referrals from my trusted base.

There are businessmen on travel with special needs, husbands who seek more than what their wives can offer, and wives who need their husbands to be more than they are. It’s the larger group that feeds me, though, and I try to fit in at least two royal gangbangs a week.

I need to start planning for the future. I have a short window at my desired peak; depending on how long I keep my slender body, pretty face, and ability to cum multiple times and in excess intact, I can possibly keep doing this into my mid-twenties.

I need to expand. I have Mark in training, and he’s coming along fine, yet he is still a bit shy about his sexuality. I can see it in his eyes, though, when he watches the videos of me being taken like a little bitch, that he desires it to be him.

I think about that boy Chuck told me about, Shawn. Perhaps he did find his way to Nashville and is making a living with his voice and guitar. I bet he could fetch more among my clients; there are enough of them who would love a smooth little bum and an ecstatically spraying little boy-clit. I might have to check with Chuck to see if he’s planning a trek down to those parts. I don’t mind mixing a little bit of business and pleasure. It’s been a while since Chuck fucked me, and I thoroughly miss his cock.

I might consider recruiting a few girls as well, but I’m still awkward around girls; it’s just so much easier for me to find willing little boy-sluts. And I can always count on Tawnya and Stan to help with the training; there’s enough room at the farm; the main concern is time; Tawnya’s just had the baby—a cute little girl with her mother's eyes.

I’ll have some downtime coming up when I go in to get my tits. I’ve been going back and forth between surgery and hormones for a while, but I’ve decided to go with surgery. I don’t want to risk my ability to cum like a fountain; my livelihood depends on it. Aunt Chloe set me up with her surgeon, and we’re using Tawnya’s breasts as the model. Not her pregnant melons, but her natural, tiny, round little tease-buttons. Both Chloe and her surgeon guarantee a natural feel; I’ll probably not stop playing with them myself for the first little while.

After even more deliberation, I’ve decided to keep my cock. Tawnya outright refused me; she even threatened to take my collar. Besides, most of my clients love watching me cum, and although I rarely use it, it’s a nice training tool for Mark. Chuck also gets a kick out of watching me fuck his girls during our trips. Basically, it makes sense to keep it from both a business and practical perspective, as well as a private one.

I can’t wait for Thanksgiving. Mom’s trying to get everyone back to the farm, and I can’t wait to see Aunt Chloe again or find out what’s become of Monique. She would be such a treat to offer my clients, but I know Shaquila would never release her. Besides, she might already be too old at this point.

If you ever venture into Minneapolis, you might find me at some downtown bar on my rare nights off. Don’t be shy; I love the attention. If you woo me enough, you might even get it free. There’s nothing quite like sucking off a stranger behind a dumpster or feeling their hands on my buttocks as they drive themselves up my ass. If you want to make a more formal appointment, visit O’Malley’s. In the second stall, just above the cistern, there’s a tag in permanent marker: “For a good time, call Cindy.” The name is right on some nights; the number is the same every night. Depending on your needs, we can quickly agree on the rate. It’s my availability that might cause problems.

If you bring your collar and leash, I will always give you a discount. Depending on your plans, like keeping me through the night, you will need to bring a water bowl. For an additional fee, I can be your toilet. Don’t be shy about bringing your wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, lover, or mistress, but that’ll always be extra, you know, more work. Even if they’re just watching, it’s an effort to be pretty like me.

Groups are always welcome; sure, it’s more money, but depending on the size of your group, it’s definitely cheaper per person this way. Much like my big-titted blonde, Natalie, discovered. She and her group have their weekly schedule with me, and for their eight grand, they can do whatever they please to me, short of breaking bones or killing me. I trust her; she has a steady hand with her breeders.

She ends our sessions like always once her men have dispersed into the night. She sits on my face and lets me clean her out, slurping cum from both her openings. Then, she takes the roll of hundred-dollar bills and slips them into my bra. She likes the idea of me getting my tits and insists on being the first to suck them. She happily agrees to the increased and permanent fee, allowing her to be first.

Yes, please find my number at O’Malley’s.

P.S. – I always cum.