Servicing the Serviceman

For the rest of that night, I was in a bit of a dwam. In the immediate aftermath, I hurried into the nearest employees' privy to gather myself, splashing some cold water onto my face to rinse off the fluids and doing my best to clean up my uniform. I still had to finish out my shift.

When I returned to the lobby, my coworker, Angela, was at the front desk. As I approached her, she gave me an odd look and asked me, "Are you alright?"

"Yes...why?" I replied haltingly.

"You seem distracted."

"Oh, I just have a lot on my mind, I guess," I lied. It wasn't a complete fib. I was having a hard time concentrating on work because I was still reeling from what had just happened to me.

"Okay," Angela nodded sympathetically. She's a nice girl, and rather pretty, too--I liked her a lot. "You have a stain on your shirt, by the way," she pointed out.

I looked down at my uniform. There, in the chest area, was an off-white splotch. I'd missed it when I was cleaning myself up earlier, and I knew exactly what it was.

"It must be from the snack I had earlier," I said, avoiding eye contact with her. It was the only plausible story I could think of right at that moment. I prayed inwardly that she wouldn't think too much about it.

"Oh...okay." Angela said. She still had a strange expression on her face, but she thankfully decided not to pry.

I took the lull in our conversation as a chance to walk away before she decided to inquire any further. I headed into the porters' office; luckily, nobody else was inside, as it was getting to be late at night already. I shut the door behind me, sank into the couch at the far end of the room, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

My brain was swimming. I had so many thoughts and I couldn't focus on any of them. I think I was experiencing a little bit of shell shock. I tried to calm myself down. To recollect myself, I had to start somewhere. I decided to try with the beginning.

It had been a routine evening until I noticed that that door at the end of the hallway was ajar. When I went to investigate, that's when I saw the serviceman all but nude. Should I have stayed away? Yet, as an employee of this hotel and being the only one there at the time, responsibility would have fallen on me by default to check on any door left open, and I couldn't have known that there would've been a naked man inside. Then, when he asked for my assistance, should I have said no? But, I work here, and it's my job to make sure our guests' needs are met. It was reasonable for me to accede. There was no way that I could have predicted what was going to happen next.

My head was starting to throb. I rubbed my eyes and tried to think.

I realized that I was having a hard time coming to terms with what happened with the serviceman. I could rationalize the events leading up to what I did with him, but it's the actual...activity itself that disquieted me. Was I interested in men? I'd never before touched a man in that way, I'd never thought I would debase myself for a male, but in one fell swoop all of that happened in less than an hour.

What really perturbed me was how easily it came to me. When he ordered me to service him, it was so easy for me to obey him.

I felt exhausted. My body was so tired. I didn't want to think about it anymore--I just wanted to go home and crawl into my bed.

I completed the remainder of my shift that night quietly, avoiding everyone.

A fortnight went by and I slowly returned to normal. I was nervous at first because I worried that someone would find out what had taken place, but that faded away as the days passed. It was an impossibility. We don't have security cameras installed in the guests' rooms, and the hallway cameras would have only caught me entering and leaving his room, looking disheveled as I exited. However, even that could be explained as physical exertion from assisting the guest, and it was all moot, anyways, because I know the employees that monitor the cameras. I know they don't review the footage unless there's a reason to do so.

A few nights after that, I happened to be passing through the lobby when Angela, whose shift again coincided with mine that evening, called me over.

"One of the rooms asked for your help," she informed me. "Could you go assist them? They're in 106."

"Okay," I assented. "Do you know what they need?"

She shook her head. "No, they didn't say. They just asked if you could please head over as soon as possible."

"Alright. I'll go there now," I said. I left her behind and made my way over.

When I reached room 106, I knocked on the door. Almost immediately, the door opened, and I was surprised to recognize the person inside. It was him again--the serviceman. In my momentary hesitation, he wordlessly pulled me inside and closed the door behind us, locking it.

"Sir, excuse me," I began, "I was told that my assistance was requested--"

"Yes," he said, simply.

I took a second to get my bearings. The room itself looked fairly untouched, as if he'd only just arrived. He was clothed this time, wearing a simple t-shirt and tactical pants. I avoided looking at his groin area. I didn't want to think about the large endowment that I knew was there.

"How may I assist you?" I asked him, finally.

"Come with me," he answered, his voice curt. He led me into the room and sat onto the bed. He spread his legs and looked at me expectantly.

I started to get nervous. "Sir, I don't think I can do that..."

"I think you can," he said. "You were quite good at it last time."

It felt like it was happening all over again. I knew that I was supposed to say no, that I should walk away, but I stood there, uncertain if I could refuse him. His presence was overwhelmingly commanding.

He watched me waver and smirked. He reached up and forced me into a kneeling position between his legs. "Nobody has to know," he said, "just help me take this off."

My heart was pounding so fast, I could feel it in my throat. If I really didn't want to do this, would he let me leave? Yet, as the thought of escaping crossed my mind, I knew that I wasn't seriously considering it. Deep down, I knew I wouldn't leave, and maybe he already knew that about me too. Maybe he already knew that he would be in full control.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was on my knees and tugging at his waistband. As I lowered his pants to his ankles, an earthy muskiness filled my nasal passages. It was intoxicating. He wasn't wearing underwear. He must have known that he wouldn't need it.

Once again, I was confronted with his massive cock. Whether it was factually larger than average or seemingly so because it was the largest I'd ever seen was immaterial--he was so well-endowed. I resigned myself to reality. Tentatively, I took his cock into my mouth and, once again, I began to blow him.

He wasn't fully hard yet, so I could fit more of it in my mouth. I tongued around the head, tasting a little saltiness from his slit, possibly from his pre-ejaculate. That concept, being so new to me, felt weird in my head. I was tasting a man's pre-cum. I was sucking his cock. I pushed those thoughts away.

The serviceman--I still didn't know his name--exhaled deeply. He put a hand on my head and started to control the cadence. He bobbed my head up and down between his legs, using me to become fully erect. I felt him stiffen between my lips, and I had to open my jaw wider to accommodate as he gained thickness. I decided to try pulling my lips up and down his shaft, making the fellatio feel more velvety for him, eliciting a groan from him. Evidently, he approved.

For I don't know how long, there I was, on my knees and blowing him. It was novel--it wasn't something I ever thought about doing before--but it, oddly, didn't feel unnatural. It no longer crossed my mind that I should try to escape. Instead, I sank deeper into a trance, doing my best to pleasure this foreigner who'd suddenly come into my life. He was so hard, and I was becoming accustomed to having him in my mouth.

"Stop."

Gripping me by my hair, he pulled my head away from his cock. Confused, I looked up at him. Why did he stop me?

He pulled me up from kneeling, making me stand. "Take off your uniform."

I demurred. He wanted me to undress?

"Now," he demanded.

Okay. Alright. I could do that for him. Reluctantly, I stripped off my clothes, one by one, until I stood in front of him, stark naked. In contrast to his muscular form, I was much leaner. That difference made me a little apprehensive.

He turned me around, looking me up and down. He nodded, then pushed me onto the bed face-down.

"Lay down and stay down," he commanded. He took off his shirt.

"Sir, I..." I didn't know what to say. I felt uneasy. I was lying prone and he was climbing atop me.

"Be quiet if you don't want anyone to hear," he said. I heard him rustle around until he grabbed something.

When I felt him spreading my ass cheeks, I panicked. "Sir, I've never done this before--"

"You'll get used to it," he said. He sounded almost indifferent.

He drizzled a cool liquid onto my hole. Lubricant. That's what he must have grabbed. Using a finger, he prodded at my rectum, pushing the viscous fluid into me.

I don't know what I expected. His fingers were rough, and the sensation of his fingers inside of me hurt. He took his time, slowly stretching me open and slicking my insides. For him, I tried to adjust.

Then, I felt something different pushing into me. It was thicker than a finger or two. I turned my head to look--it was his cock. He was beginning to penetrate me.

Suddenly, I saw stars. I was speechless. I felt like I was being split in half. I collapsed onto the mattress.

He lowered himself onto me as he entered me. The penetration wasn't easy--he was extremely girthy. The length was so much and, then, when it felt like it would never end, that was it. He was fully inside of me.

"Fuck," he hissed. "It's so tight."

I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I was being cleaved into two, and my body felt like it might break under all that duress. As he laid on top of me, his body weight easily felt twice that of mine.

"I knew it," he was saying, "boy or girl, your people were made to be fucked by us." As he spoke, he began to grind his hips, creating friction inside of me. His movements caused me to whimper. I was letting out sounds I didn't even know I could make.

He reached around to cover my mouth. "Be quiet if you don't want anyone to hear," he repeated.

I couldn't help it. I was no longer in control of my own body. I was totally overwhelmed.

Slowly, surely, he began to thrust into me with more speed, more strength, more regularity. It hurt, but the pain gradually dulled into a different feeling, and a passive sort of acceptance came over me as my body kowtowed to his. I was being fucked. He was fucking me.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so tight." He spoke directly into my ear, his voice low. There might have been a time in my life when I would have objected to being told that, but I hardly heard him. I could barely even focus on breathing.

As he fucked me, his cock plunged in and out of my depths, ramming me open. His body weight pinned me down; I was forcibly servile to him, a hole for his use. It was uncomfortable at first, but even that discomfort was forgotten as time went by. It wasn't uncomfortable anymore--it just was. It was a natural fact. He was using me for release, for relief.

His cock seemed to brush up against a different spot within me, and it sent a shock through my body. What was that? I tried to focus on my senses--there it was again. It was that spot. As he fucked me, he occasionally pushed past...whatever it was, there was a nerve there, and he was hitting it. "Oh, oh my God..." I mumbled, completely muffled by the hand covering my mouth. Whatever he was hitting inside of me, it was reacting to him and electrifying my body.

"Yeah? You like it?" He must have noticed a difference in my reactions. "I fucking knew you would," he sneered. "Take my cock. This is what you were born to do."

He began to fuck me harder. Where I earlier saw stars, I was now seeing black spots. My eyes were rolling backwards. I no longer cared about what was happening. I just wanted to know what it was inside of me that was sending lightning through me, and whether it would stop. Whether it was pleasure or pain, I had no capacity to differentiate. I just wanted more. I whimpered through his hand over my mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned, "it's just like fucking a bitch." He was pumping so hard now that the bed frame rocked against the wall. "Take it. Take my cock, make me cum." He slammed himself into me, over and over again, milking the full length of his cock with my hole.

Finally, with a grunt, he pushed himself into me, collapsed atop me, and his entire body spasmed. Dimly, I could feel a warmth pooling inside of me as his cock spurted. I laid there, beneath him, as he inseminated me. I never thought I'd utter those words.

In the end, when he finished, he said nothing. He got up, dressed himself, and exited the room. He'd obviously rented the room just for this. I was left alone.

I don't know how long it took me to come to my senses. I was a mess. I had just allowed myself to be so thoroughly and limitlessly used by a foreign serviceman.