--- Friday -- Evening ---
The hotel was crawling with people 'cause there was an adult convention taking place. However, there was a place that was literally deserted like a morgue, which was the wellness area in the basement. Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was hanging around, also literally.
Remember? Ortega had given me the chance to earn two pity points for the out-please-ment center by entertaining the two sales champions. That was why I had given them a fitness session as yoga instructor. Unfortunately, though, the dudes had tricked me. Not only had I missed the chance to earn the second point, they had tied up their ho-ga instruct-whore with some fitness gear.
Here I was, the senior consultant with arms and legs bound by suspension straps. Here I was, the mature manager exposed in the fitness room with my titties hanging out of my pink zebra-style crop top and the zipper of my black wetlook leggings opened. Here I was, the college grad outsmarted by a young salesman.
I didn't know how long I remained in the fitness room all by myself. It must have been pretty long, or at least way too long for my taste. No matter what, I couldn't lose my bonds but lost all sense of time instead. All the while, the strain on my arms was growing, slowly becoming arduous.
Oh dang! This was becoming worrisome. Not just 'cause I was helpless and exposed, but mostly 'cause the chances of finding Mr. Weasel and earning that second point were getting slim.
Just then I heard footsteps behind me. Maybe, it was Weasel coming back to cash in on his free fuck?!? Maybe, it was Ortega coming back to free me?!? Maybe, it was Shelly coming back to deride me?!? Maybe, it was the janitor to name and shame me?!? OMG! Each possibility was worse than the previous one.
Turning my head as much as the suspenders allowed, I saw a dude approaching. Ya-nay! It definitely wasn't Shelly! Phew! Yet, it could be anybody else, so I didn't know if I should rejoice or whimper. As the dude was getting closer, I noticed the black leather shoes and khaki pants. Ya-ya-nay! It definitely wasn't the janitor, and it didn't fit Ortega's elegant fashion style, either. Could it be Mr. Weasel? Was I finally getting my lucky break? Maybe! Or maybe not.
"So, I'm told you're waiting for me." The dude eventually addressed me.
That could totally be Mr. Weasel's comment, what with him knowing about his free ride and all.
"Though, the exact words were, you're waiting for my dick." He added.
That didn't sound like the slimy dude 'cause neither the words nor the voice was fitting. Nay-nay-nay!
"Word is, there's never been a whore more suited to her occupation." The not-weasel dude elaborated, seemingly oblivious to the degrading impact. "If it wasn't your career, it would be your lifestyle choice. That's what they agreed upon."
"They really had to tie you up to keep you from rubbing yourself senseless." He added. "I couldn't believe it, so I had to see for myself. Guess they were right."
While inspecting the bondage stuff, the dude slowly circled my suspended body. That was when I finally got to see his face. It was Mr. Squid, the stereotype of a salesman who was still wearing his blue shirt and yellow tie 'power dress', which didn't make me look forward to whatever was about to happen. Remember back at the workshop? The dude had been the most modest of the bunch who hadn't even dared staring at my boobies. Would he dare touching me this time? Would he free me?
"The bitch needs that empty head filled with meat 'n that dirty cunt stretched to get those life choices validated." He obviously cited Mr. Aggro.
"Assy totally loves some awesome shitter splitter action thingie." He apparently cited Sharkboy next.
Oh gosh! The way the sales dudes must have been gossiping about me was driving me mad. Bimbo-me was giddy about being the talk of the party whereas Consultant-me was outraged by their pretentiousness. In combination, it made my pussy twitch and convulse, so much so that I felt like pussy juice was leaking out of me and dripping onto the ground.
"Is that true?" Mr. Squid asked me directly.
Obviously, the holier-than-thou dude still needed my encouragement to get going. As I said, totally modest. When he didn't move, I realized he was waiting for a reply. However, I had to find the right tone 'cause lust versus decency. Surprisingly, the choice turned out really easy. In fact, I seemed to find it naturally as I meant every word.
"Yes sir, please sir, fuck my holes like extra hard." I babbled. "This so ain't a job for me, like no way. This so is what I need, like totally."
"Fill me, stuff me, plug me. Just like the dudes have said!" I literally opened my mouth and inserted my foot. "I so need my inner filling, fer shure!"
The words just spewed out without any thought or rationalizing or stuff. I was way too committed to my role and my assignment, so much so that I didn't think about any consequences. After all, in my current position, the time for modesty was long gone, wasn't it?
"I see, you're the kind of hardcore whore you never expect to meet in real life." The sales rep summed it up. "So, I don't have to feel bad about this."
Oh my gawd! He really thought I was some kinda whore that got off on getting degraded and manhandled. He really thought I would intentionally choose and encourage it. Oh wait!
Zzzippp
Obviously, this holier-than-thou dude needed his personal justification to take the next step. Apparently, he had all the justification he needed, 'cause he opened his zipper to fish out his cock. Grabbing the suspenders, he pulled on them until I was swinging back and forth. Oh no! He was turning the fitness gear into a love swing! Oh no, no! He was using me like a fetish toy!
Swinging back and forth, Mr. Squid held his cock in front of my face, so it slapped a cheek with every forward motion. Oh boy! He wasn't starting out with a facefucking but punishing me for being such a hardcore whore first. What a hypocrite!
From all the swinging, I was getting kinda nauseous here, not that I could do anything against it 'cause tied up. Still, I started moaning and grunting noisily, which the squid dude quickly exploited. The next time, I swung forward, he drove his cock right into my mouth and didn't stop pulling on the suspenders until my lips touched his balls.
Oh gag me! He was making me deepthroat his meaty tool in the roughest way ever. Even though his dick wasn't as gigantic as Mr. Shark's, it still had an above average size. That was why his cock stabbed my gullet with the first thrust, causing my upper body to rear up, which made me struggle that much more in my straps.
Any further skull thrust made me gag and choke heavily. Any further throat stab made me splutter and drool massively. By then the holier-than-thou dude was getting tired of pulling on the suspenders. Instead, he found a better way to move his fetish toy around. Oh Lordy! Reaching down, he grabbed my nipples. Literally like a clamp, he pinched them and didn't let go. Instead, he used them to move me back and forth. With his steely grasp, it felt like he was ripping my big, ole funbags off my chest. Owie!
So much for modesty! So much for decency! The hypocrite!
Holding me in place with his shaft buried down my throat, he waited while my throat muscle literally performed a tap dance, as in wildly squeezing his meaty tool. It was so bad that my eyes rolled to the back of my head and my upper body reared up once more, which was super painful 'cause pinched nipples and tied arms. Ouchie! Just when a gush of slobber sprayed from my lips, he pushed me off his cock by dragging on my nipples. Holy fudge!
"My wife only ever sucks on the tip of my cock." Mr. Squid huffed. "Guess a proper deep throat's to be expected of a hardcore whore."
Oh boy! He was comparing me to his wife! So unfair! He wasn't even seeing me as a woman but as a set of tits and holes available for purchase. Wifey was the saint to love and I was the whore to use. Gulp!
Anyhow, Mr. Squid seemed satisfied with my skull fucking skills 'cause he let my boobies go and walked to my backside. Oh jeez! The pain shooting from my nipples across my titty flesh was ultra intense, so much so that I winced in agony and saw stars flashing in front of me. Totally hurty! Totally achy!
"Aaarrrggghhh!" I screamed seconds later.
Why? Cause the hypocrite dude was exhausting his options regarding that swing lever thingie. Standing behind me, he suddenly hit my ass with his open hand, so hard that I swung forward.
"30 days! That's how long my wife hasn't put out." The holier-than-thou dude hissed.
That wasn't just a statement, though. Apparently, it left the hubby super frustrated, and now he had found the perfect vessel to vent his anger, or more like the perfect whore for his anger management. Oh shoot!
"Ooowww! Aaarrrggghhh!" I shrieked with increasing intensity.
You know the way a swing works? Everything that sways forth comes back. Every time my body swung back, the momentum increased so every open-handed slap was more vicious.
I screamed and shrieked and yelped. The intensity was intolerable. The pain was overwhelming. The sales dude was giving me a major ass thrashing, so much so that my butt cheeks must have been glowing as fiery red as my lip tattoos. What was more, the sudden brutality literally paralyzed me from shock, so much so that I didn't move or struggle against my bonds.
"28!" "Ooowww!" "29!" "Mmmppphhh!" "30!" "Mmmppphhh!"
The hypocrite dude didn't stop beating my ass and pinching my clit until he had reached the number of days. By then, I was limply hanging in my bonds barely grunting anymore, I had screamed myself hoarse whereas my body was on fire. What a contrast! What agitation!
