Bitch A Scifi Petplay Tale Pt 02

For warnings and story summary, please see part 1.

The elevators are large, made to accommodate rush-hour crowds, with doors on the front and back of the car and benches to either side; an elevator ride can take up to ten minutes, given how large the district is. Mirrors around the walls discourage pickpocketing or other illicit activities when the elevators are full--but right now, Vera and the three girls have the car to themselves.

As soon as the doors slide shut beside them, the girls gang up on Vera, pushing her onto the bench.

"I want to ride her mask," one of the girls says.

"Hold on," another says, pulling something out of her purse, and the other girls shriek with laughter. When Vera tries to turn to see what it is, though, she's restrained, two of the girls holding her in place and pulling her arms in front of her. There's a bar that runs along the top of the bench, a hand-hold, and they want her hands there, for some reason.

That reason quickly becomes clear when a pair of fuzzy handcuffs comes into view.

"What--no," Vera says, immediately starting to struggle, but she's no match for the three younger women. They get the cuffs looped around the bar and then slapped onto her wrists, and she's trapped, attached to the bench. "What's happening? What are you doing?" The mask turns her panicked words into animal noises.

"God, listen to her whine like a puppy. Upset that you can't finger your horny hole?" one of the girls says. "Rena, go ahead and get on the bench."

Rena, it turns out, is the one who keeps talking about riding Vera's mask. She clambers onto the seat of the bench and presses a hand on top of Vera's head, shoving her down into position.

Vera is forced to squat awkwardly on the floor, her arms straining up on either side of the other woman, and Rena has to kneel on the bench, and then Vera's head is under Rena's skirt and she's staring at the thong Rena is wearing.

"Here's the deal. You make Rena come by the time we get to Floor 12, and we'll uncuff you and bring you to meet our boyfriends, and maybe even let them fuck you. Otherwise, we're leaving you here," one of the girls informs her.

"What--no!" Vera protests, then gasps, her vision blurring when one of them crouches down and rubs at the entrance of the fuck-hole with her fingers. "I--no, wait, you can't..."

"Tick tock, bitch. This is only a five-minute ride, and we're already moving, so I suggest you stop whimpering and start working."

Vera groans, then leans forward and buries the snout of her mask against Rena's pussy.

"Oo-ooh!" Rena squeaks. The pressure of her hand on top of Vera's hand increases as she shoves Vera in deeper, and Vera can feel the faint humming of what must be the vibrations in the mask. "Fuck, that's good."

"Jeeze, Rena, you're almost as much of a--" static "--as she is," the woman crouched beside Vera snickers. She skewers her fingers roughly into the hole, making Vera whine and spread her knees wider, her thighs trembling under the strain of holding the position as arousal rockets through her body.

"Shut up, it's been a while since my vibe died," Rena says, then gasps. She's moving her hips now, rubbing her slit along the length of the mask's snout. She reaches down to tug the thong to the side, out of the way, and groans in gratification as her clit presses directly into the material of the mask, the tip of the snout grinding against her entrance. "Ooh yeah, right there, bitch. Mmmm."

Vera finds that she doesn't need to do much except brace herself and pant, doing her best to stay upright between the fingers teasing inside her and the violent movements of Rena humping into her face. Time drags slowly, but she knows from the countdown on the elevator screen that it's only a minute and a half before Rena starts to grind harder, her cries of pleasure becoming more urgent in a way that makes Vera relieved and simultaneously incredibly jealous as the woman loudly approaches orgasm.

When Rena comes, she goes almost silent with it, clutching Vera's head in place and fucking hard against the vibrating mask.

Vera helplessly mimics the movements with her own hips, grinding down on the fingers that are teasing her, making the two other girls laugh.

"Oh, look. The bitch wants to come, too."

"You two have got to try that. It's so good," Rena gasps as she tugs her thong back into place and rights her skirt, nudging Vera's head casually out of her way.

"We don't have time," one of the others says. "Come on, the doors are about to open."

As Rena climbs off the bench and finishes tugging her clothes right, and the other two start to gather up their purses, Vera tugs at the fluffy cuffs, jingling the cheap metal of the chain against the bar. "Hey!"

"Don't fucking bark at us, bitch," one of the girls reprimands her, reaching down to tug at the ear of the mask, yanking her head to the side. "You didn't really believe what we said earlier, did you, you--" static "--? Of course we're not going to let you--" static "--with our boyfriends."

"Yeah. Settle down, girl. You're nice and safe tied up here. I'm sure someone will be along to fuck your horny hole," says one of the others, and then the doors slide open.

They laugh as they walk out.

"Wait! You can't leave me here--hold on--" Vera calls, tugging again at the cuffs. They're novelty cuffs, the kind of thing that one might get as a joke at a bachelorette party, with a simple push-hole to undo, but she doesn't have anything to hand to unlock them. She yanks, but they're well-made enough not to break; when she leans back to see if anyone outside the elevator can see her, there's only the retreating backs of the three laughing girls, and then the elevator door sliding shut. "Shit! Fuck, I'm trapped!"

CALM DOWN, VERA, the Playsuit says, and immediately she does, her panic easing as she remembers that she's not completely alone. I AM ABLE TO SUMMON ASSISTANCE IF IT BECOMES NECESSARY.

"Oh. Right." Vera takes a few breaths, then twitches in surprise when she feels the elevator start to move again, even though she can't reach to press any of the buttons. Someone must be summoning it to another floor. Then she finishes processing the Playsuit's phrasing. "If it becomes necessary?"

YOU ARE NOT CURRENTLY IN ANY PHYSICAL DANGER, AND THIS ELEVATOR IS WITHIN THE BOUNDS OF YOUR RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT, SO YOUR PRESENCE HERE IN YOUR CURRENT STATE IS NOT AT RISK OF VIOLATING ANY PUBLIC DECENCY LAWS. UNLESS YOU CHOOSE TO USE YOUR SAFE WORD, NO ASSISTANCE WILL BE REQUESTED AT THIS TIME.

"Oh. Fuck. But..." Vera whines, flushing again as the reality of her position sunk in. A second later, her cunt reacts, throbbing hard. "Oh God."

GOOD GIRL. YOU ARE LIKELY TO MAKE PLENTY OF NEW FRIENDS IN THE ELEVATOR.

Vera can only groan again.

The ascent to whichever floor had called the elevator takes several minutes again. Vera finds a more comfortable position, perching on the edge of the bench to rest her legs without pressing her tail against anything. She can't help but catch glances of herself in the mirrors ringing the elevator, making it clear just how wrecked and helpless she looks: tied up, her mask shiny with the fluids left behind by Rena, her lacy bra slightly askew from the girls' rough handling.

As the elevator slows and the door begins to open, her heart rate picks up. In response, the Playsuit's tail wags, vibrating the plug inside her anus and making her whine.

Into the elevator steps two young women.

More students, from the looks of them--but these two are more reserved than the group who cuffed Vera up. They both gasp and gape at the sight of her, and then look at each other, giggling behind their hands.

"Hi," Vera says weakly, then blushes as the friendly yip that comes out of the mask makes them giggle again.

For a moment, Vera thinks they might just get back off the elevator, but then one of them steps boldly inside and her friend follows.

They don't approach her, though. The girls key in their destination and then take the opposite bench as the elevator starts to move, watching her like they're waiting for her to do a trick. Occasionally, they lean in to whisper to each other, staring at Vera in a way that makes it obvious they're talking about her.

Vera can feel the heat of her skin flushing all the way down her chest. She can't help but squirm miserably as her arousal continues to burn inside her, stoked by the idea of spending who-knows-how-long trapped in this elevator, presented endlessly to strangers who may or may not be interested in helping her.

Right as the elevator reaches its destination, one of the girls springs up from her seat and darts towards Vera, reaching for her chest. She pulls out one of Vera's tits and gives a brief but firm pinch to Vera's nipple.

After several minutes of no stimulation--except the gentle massage of the insert in her pussy, which has become so familiar that it feels like a natural part of her arousal--the pleasure is a shock.

Vera cries out a garbled sound that the mask translates into a series of yelps as she flails, humping her hips automatically up at the air as she mindlessly seeks more stimulation to answer the pulsing need in her cunt.

The girl has already let go of Vera, though, laughing as she retreats back to her friend's side. They both watch with open amazement as Vera whines and squirms and tugs at the handhold, fruitlessly seeking some way to get one of her hands down between her legs.

She's so stunned by need that she forgets to even beg for them to undo the cuffs--not that it would do much good; they wouldn't understand her, and they don't seem interested in helping, anyway.

Vera's still squirming when the doors open and the girls scramble out, still giggling, leaving her behind.

WHAT RUDE WOMEN, TEASING A TIED-UP DOG THAT WAY, the Playsuit comments. IT'S ALRIGHT. YOU'RE A GOOD GIRL, VERA.

Vera can only whine in response. She tries to right her bra, but with her hands restrained, she can't get the right angle to tuck her exposed breast back in. She gives up and wriggles restlessly in her seat, squeezing her thighs together to try and comfort her aching, empty hole.

A minute later, a delivery man steps into the elevator. He's clearly on the clock, decked out in the uniform of a restaurant located at the boundary of the residential district and carrying a bag piled with take-out containers.

As soon as he sees Vera, he puts the bag down. He's undoing his pants almost before the elevator doors close.

Vera rolls over and spreads her legs to present herself to him, already panting with excitement at the idea of being fucked again, taking another load of come that might potentially grant her her own release.

The delivery guy fucks her in a quick, businesslike fashion, leaving her writhing and whimpering on the bench when his semen turns out to not be a match for the algorithm's profile.

Neither is the semen from the next guy to step on, an older man who isn't shy at all about shouting his pleasure as he bends Vera into herself on top of the bench and pounds hard into her throbbing cunt, fills her with more come that the Playsuit calmly announces isn't right.

There's a slippery dripping sensation inside her, making her feel deliciously filthy and used; she almost forgets that it can't possibly be the men's come, because of the barrier. The suit must be using lubricant to simulate the sensation.

Or maybe Vera's just that wet.

She's whimpering quietly to herself when the next passenger climbs on: a woman this time. The woman sits next to her and just touches her, gently petting her bare skin along her stomach and her arms, simultaneously soothing her and stimulating her sensitive nerves. The woman speaks to her too, gentle and reassuring, until Vera is melted into the woman's side, her pleas to be touched on her pussy or her sensitive nipples coming out as plaintive, wordless whimpering.

The woman fixes her bra for her, at least. But when Vera rattles the cuffs and whines, she tuts and shakes her head. "You look good where you are, puppy."

"No, please," Vera begs, fantasizing feverishly about how many men could be fucking her right now if she could just make her way to the sex club--but the woman just smiles and pats the top of her head and then leaves.

The next passenger ignores Vera entirely, staring past her like she's not there, which is a whole new humiliation.

Then, after that, a man who stands over her and strokes himself, looking supremely satisfied by her begging and whining and the way she spreads her thighs to try and convince him to fuck her. The Playsuit censors half the words out of his mouth.

He comes like that, striping her chest and stomach with semen that might have been a chance for her to get off, and Vera almost cries.

GOOD GIRL, the Playsuit reassures her as the man leaves, its inaudible voice calm and soothing. IT'S NATURAL TO BE UPSET THAT HE DIDN'T WANT TO BREED YOU, BUT IT'S ALRIGHT. YOU DID VERY WELL.

"I'm never g-gonna be able to come like this," Vera hiccoughs, then moans and squirms restlessly as the belt's gentle stimulation stokes the fires inside her once again, making it impossible to calm down or catch her breath.

YOU WILL ORGASM AT THE END OF YOUR HEAT, EVEN IF YOU ARE UNABLE TO FIND A BREEDING PARTNER THAT MATCHES THE SELECTED PROFILE, the Playsuit reminds her.

"How long left?"

APPROXIMATELY 1.5 HOURS REMAIN IN YOUR LUCKY DRAW HEAT SESSION.

Vera groans and pulls at the cuffs, aching to touch herself, to just have something inside of her to soothe the twitching emptiness.

Minutes crawl by. The elevator drifts up, and then down again, like it's idling; most people are either home or out for the night now.

Vera wonders if this is what the next hour and a half of her life will look like: tied up in an empty elevator, presenting herself to be fucked by exactly nobody, slowly going out of her mind with sexual desperation.

She can't. She'll safe-word long before the end of the session if that happens, she knows it. But even just the thought has her throbbing and squirming again, lighting up her arousal even as she thinks that she should be well past the point of enjoying her own torment.

Minutes pass.

Vera's fantasies about being at the club, about being fucked raw by one man after another until she finally takes a load that makes her come her fucking brains out, drift into what feels like a more realistic, and yet equally out of reach wish: to just have one wrist unrestrained, able to finger herself whenever she wants and as much as the Playsuit allows.

It's a pathetically mild fantasy, and yet it makes her hot with need, her pussy clenching longingly at the idea.

Vera thinks, too, about the mindless pleasure of humping the couch in her living room, the brief flashes of sensation against her clit whenever the Playsuit had permitted it.

With all of the attention that the elevator passengers have given her hole and her nipples, her clit is begging for attention, and even a little pressure there would feel so good right now...

But she doesn't dare. Does she? No. Not in public. Not in a fucking elevator.

...Except she does. She really, really does.

It's a humiliating process, getting into position, given that she's still attached to the bar at the top and that the bench is mostly flat. But there are little recesses in each seat to make them more comfortable, rising to a small lip at the edge--and if she hikes one of her knees up at just the right angle on the bench, she's able to press her crotch into the corner of one of those lips.

ARE YOU GETTING LONELY? the Playsuit asks as she wriggles awkwardly on the bench, trying to figure out how to grind down without straining her knee. THAT'S OKAY. IT'S ONLY NATURAL FOR A BITCH IN HEAT TO WANT TO HUMP IF NOBODY'S AROUND TO MOUNT HER.

Vera whimpers as she finally rocks her hips against the hard resin seat, and her eyes practically cross at the delicious sensation against her clit. "Ohh," she whines, and jolts down again, helplessly working herself against the surface.

THAT'S IT. GOOD GIRL. KEEP YOURSELF ENTERTAINED WHILE WE WAIT TO SEE IF ANYONE ELSE WANTS TO BREED YOU.

"Mmn," Vera whimpers, her face blazing with embarrassed heat under the mask. "I--right there, yes--please--" She can't help begging, even though she's in public, even though she knows it won't help. Not that a passerby could hear what she's saying, but the echoes of the mask's animal whimpers in the small elevator are just as evocative, and what she looks like--

She glances at herself in the mirror, and then stares, unable to tear her gaze away from the erotic sight. Restrained, masked, twisted up like a pretzel to hump pathetically against a piece of smooth plastic in a public elevator. She's sheened with sweat, shaking with need.

"God, I'm gonna--ohhh," she groans, tormented by the fizzle of pleasure sparking at her core, the brief flashes of sensation that the suit allows her in time with her movements that feel so, so good but are never quite enough to make her come. "Mm. There, there, there, mmnn, my clit, please..."

BITCHES DO NOT COME FROM THIER CLITS, the Playsuit informs her calmly. YOUR CLITORIS IS ONLY FOR TEASING. WHEN YOU GET BRED PROPERLY, YOU WILL HAVE A VAGINAL ORGASM.

"Yes," Vera whines, shaking at the idea. She loves to come from internal stimulation, though it can be hard to get there on her own; it was one of the reasons she first got into teasing and denying herself, trying to make it easier to reach that deeper pleasure--though more often than not, she gets impatient on her own and ends up rubbing off with her clit in the end. She grinds down hard into the bench and gasps, "Ah, ah, ah," at the brief catch of sensation.

"Holy shit," someone says, and Vera yelps.

She hadn't even noticed the elevator door open, she's been so lost in chasing the small amount of pleasure she can get from humping the bench. She would've fallen right off the bench in surprise if she wasn't attached to it by the cuffs; instead, she ends up sliding halfway, clumsily scrambling one foot against the floor as she twists to stare up at the person boarding the elevator.

Or, more accurately, the people boarding the elevator.

Men. Three of them, around her own age--maybe graduate students, maybe recently graduated like her.

"Oh, fuck, please," Vera blurts, immediately spreading her knees. The suit translates her vulgar begging into a plaintive yip ending in a whine.

"Wow. I didn't know these things were real," one of the guys says, stepping close and touching the ears of the mask, stroking the top of her head like she's a real dog.

"What the hell does that mean?" another one says, laughing. "You thought the videos were, like, CGI?"

"No, I mean like--whatever, you know what I mean. Fuck, that's hot, though. Why are you tied up like this? Were you a bad girl?"

Vera shakes her head adamantly. "No, please let me go, please fuck me, please!"

"Alright, alright," the guy fondling her fake ears laughs. "God, listen to her. That's hot. You want to come to the club with us?"

"Yes!" Vera says, hope and gratitude washing through her at once, and only doubling when the guy pulls a paperclip out of his pocket and uses it to push the button on the cuffs, finally freeing her. "Yes, yes, thank you, thank you!" The dizzying sensation of the anal plug shifting inside her hints that her tail is wagging hard to match the happy yips coming out of the mask.

Another of the men sits down on the bench beside her, and she immediately climbs half into his lap, reaching for his crotch.

He laughs and pushes her hand away. "Not so fast, darlin', we don't have time for that yet. Save it for the club." But he allows her to straddle his thigh and grind down onto it, putting a hand around her hips to keep her steady as she chases whatever pleasure the Playsuit will allow her, the mask translating her heavy breathing into dog-like panting. "God, she's horny."