The life of a Plaything wasn't all that bad, actually.
Nobody cared about what you did on your off hours, when the collar was taken off and you were fully dressed. You could have a spouse, children, hobbies, even a social life outside of the job.
You were sterilized, of course, so there was no chance of pregnancy from an unwilling donor, and you had an implant to make certain you could neither catch nor carry any diseases. There were rules against hurting Playthings--a bit of spanking and rough fondling was fine, but if anyone drew blood, the fines were exorbitant. You were given injections, too, to make you tougher and stretchier, so if someone wanted to use your cunt as a makeshift wine bottle cubbyhole, they could without causing damage.
That did not necessarily mean it was comfortable, however.
Amelia, who had her knees hooked wide open over a steel frame and a slender bottle of red wedged all the way up to her cervix and on full display, had been rubbing out orgasm after orgasm through this corporate function, and no one had removed the source of her frustration yet.
She was just considering another one when a well-dressed, portly man came up to inspect the bottle.
A flicker of disappointment and hope crossed her mind--maybe he would be the one to claim it?--but both were ultimately for naught.
Instead, he popped the much more slender plug out of her ass and unzipped his pants.
Amelia had only the time to remind herself to relax before the head of something blunt and huge and hot took its place.
The penetration forced a shriek out of her throat, tears spilling from her eyes as the bottle was rammed even deeper, the smooth curve compressing her g-spot, dick and bottle stuffing her so full and tight she couldn't even breathe--
Her cries got louder and louder as the man thrust, slick and easy because of the lube and the cum of all the men that had done this before him, the neck of the bottle bobbing against his lower abdomen as the body of it deep-massaged every erogenous area accessible within Amelia's cunt.
One hand wrapped around the neck, angling it both better and worse within her, and he groaned in satisfaction while Amelia keened.
She came like that, ecstasy nearly shattering her mind with how full she was like that, her aggressor entirely apathetic to the whole thing except for a muffled grunt when she contracted, and simply kept going.
Her eyes were still rolling and her breath was still sobbing when a voluptuous woman in a tiny black dress came up to her platform.
"Oh, do be quiet," the woman said, kneeling over Amelia and placing a knee on either side of her head, "and make better use of that mouth."
Amelia moaned brokenly into the woman's warm cunt, but licked as best she could through the post-orgasm stimulation.
The woman was riding her face before long, moaning softly herself as she got wetter and wetter and wetter, helped along by the noises muffled in her muff as the portly man continued to pound Amelia's ass.
It drew a crowd, as Playthings in use tended to do, and soon, Amelia had a dick in each hand for stroking and fondling and pumping. Her coordination was all off, but one of the men had her wrist to guide her and the other didn't seem to mind, and it was like that that she felt pulses of spunk filling up her back end.
The portly man pulled out and left, grabbing a few too many complimentary wipes on the way.
