Part Two: Sometimes You Can Get Too Much Of A Good Thing
It was my third week at Faster Pussycat and it was fast approaching midnight. I was totally exhausted. I'd been on my knees, cuffed and manacled to a humbler and spreader bar since just before nine pm, and a seemingly endless line of young women had come into the storeroom where Kelly had installed me from almost the opening bell. My jaws ached. My body was wracked with cramps from the confinement, and I was seemingly drowning in pussy juice as one woman after another entered the room for servicing. To be honest, it was hellish. I never thought I could tire of eating pussy, but this was just too much. As I knelt on my pad, my head sagging forward in exhaustion I reflected on my situation.
The first week of service had been a bit slow, but pretty fun. In addition to Kelly, only seven other women had come into the room over the course of the evening. Other than the confinement and kneeling, it was fine, and the culinary rewards seemed well worth the muscle cramping.
The second week was quite a bit more intense. Probably twenty women had entered the storeroom, and most wanted a second, third or even a fourth orgasm. It was pretty exhausting, but still, being turned into a pussy slave at a lesbian night club was pretty exciting for a submissive male like myself. Kelly had even demanded four orgasms that night, so I left at 1:45 am feeling well-used, and very tired.
Tonight seemed just endless though. In less than three hours I had been required to orally service over twenty-five women and felt near the point of collapse. I was drunk on endorphins and female pheromones, I smelled like a whorehouse and was becoming numbly unresponsive to the point where my "customers" were getting annoyed.
As I knelt, head slumped forward in exhaustion, I heard the door open again. Oh God, I thought. Give me strength. Raucous laughter and banter among the women clustered in the hallway came in through the door as it opened, and then was abruptly muffled when it closed.
"Damn! I do believe this boy looks whipped." Then there was a clatter as a bucket hit the floor just to my right. I looked up to see a stocky leather dyke, dressed in lace up black combat boots, jeans and a white tee shirt with a leather vest. She had that hat on that they all wear. Through eyes dulled with exhaustion, I recognized Kris. Oh shit. This is one bad-ass bitch, and I'm practically wiped. She had not paid a visit to the storeroom before, but I had seen her in the club and her rep was formidable. She circled me predatorially as she removed her belt from her jeans.
"You look worn out slave-boy. Are you going to be able to get me off or what?"
"I'll do my best Kris."
"So you know who I am?"
"Yes Kris, your reputation precedes you."
She smirked. "I thought I'd check out what all the buzz is about Mr. miracle pussy eater. So far I'm not impressed, although I do like the way Kelly has you all trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey in your service position. I do like seeing slaves of all persuasions on their knees in tight bondage. Not much you can do to resist the way you are all cuffed together.
"No Maam."
"Well, I don't give a shit how tired you are. I paid my money and I expect top notch service, boy. If you disappoint, I'll take my belt to your ass and put a boot to those balls-in-stocks of yours." By now her jeans and underwear were down around her ankles.
"You aren't supposed to damage the service staff."
Kris grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back. She leaned forward, her face about six inches from mine. "Fuck that! I do what I want. If Kelly objects, I'll put my boot up her skinny little cunt. You'd best be good boy, or there will be consequences. Jesus! You fucking reek of pussy juice!"
With that she bent her knees slightly, thrust her hips forward and pulled my face into her crotch. "I like it rough boy. Tongue me hard. Get me the fuck off!"
I just went right at it, prying her cunt open with my tongue and lapping from the bottom of her gash to the top. At some point I paused to suckle at her labiae and she whooped, "Oooh, good one boy! Nice move." Now I was just reverting to tonguing her out with power strokes, with the occasional detour to suck and lick her clit. Her clitoris was impressively large and I found myself wondering whether she used a suction pump on it. It also seemed chapped, which I knew meant she was getting lots of head. I wished I could get a couple of fingers into her, but my wrists were firmly cuffed behind my back, as usual.
Somehow I kept going and apparently I was getting to her because she began to groan with pleasure and started grinding her pussy into my mouth, brusing my lips with her public bone. Then she gasped, "Oh fuck yeah!" and drained what seemed like a quarter cup of cum into my mouth. I backed off the pressure quite a bit, but kept lapping at her inner sanctum and clitoris. "Suck it boy. Such my clit like it's a cock." Then she pushed me away.
