Melissa was in the doghouse. That's what Ron had called it, and that is sort of what it was like, at least on the inside. There was a booth between the kitchen and the dining room that could seat six people, three on either side, that came out from the wall. There was a cubby, not much larger than a real doghouse, built into the wall beneath the table. It did have a door on it, but at the moment it was open. Neither the doghouse not its inhabitant were visible unless you looked beneath the table.
She was waiting, like Ron had instructed her to do. She found the cage comfortable, mostly, though she imagined if the door were closed she would get claustrophobic pretty quickly. Still, she did not even poke her head out.
The men arrived for breakfast, once more joking and teasing one another some. She could smell the food as bacon and toast and eggs arrived, and could hear their conversation peter out as they slid into the booth, two on one side and one on the other. She could see feet and legs only, those of the men seated and Ron's, as he brought food to the table.
Once the men were busy eating, she eased out of her cage and crawled over to the first man on her right. Ron had explained her job here and she began by gently stoking the first man's right leg, then his left. He did not stop her, so she began to stroke his inner thighs. Ron had told her that if a man closed his legs, that meant her attentions were not required at the moment and for her to move on to the next man. This man did no such thing, so she began to stroke his inner legs very close to his crotch.
His shorts were loose, and she reached up with both hands cupping his balls and stroking his growing penis. It had to be Tim, since his was the long skinny one of the three she had encountered yesterday. He had no underwear on, and she was able to expose him by simply moving the material of his shorts over to one side. She continued to stroke him and then flicked the top of his nearly turgid member with her tongue. She could feel him twitch, and she did the same several times before wiggling her tongue into the little hole there. She was actually getting into this, which surprised her a little. She started with sloppy caresses of his glans and then eased him into her mouth. She played with him, teasing and coaxing him, getting more into it herself as she did so. When she eased him all the way into her mouth and into her throat, she heard him gasp, which gave her some satisfaction. She made his cock disappear down her throat and back out over and over, picking up speed until he began to shoot. She backed out with just the head in her mouth as he filled it with semen. She did not let go until he stopped spurting and started to shrink a little. She swallowed all he gave her and then kissed the head of his penis before tucking it back in his shorts.
She turned her attention to the man on the opposite side, the red hair on his legs identifying him as Stan. She began slowly like she had with Tim, stroking his legs, but he grabbed her hands and put them into his shorts. Like Tim, he had on baggy enough shorts that she could easily access him, and she began to stroke him with her hands. When she kissed the end of his member, he grabbed both sides of her head and held her there. He thrust forward, and pushed her head down on his cock. She was eager enough in her ministrations, but he had taken control and was forcing himself into her throat. He held it there for what seemed like forever. Melissa was starting to run out of air and was beginning to panic when he pulled her off and then began to make her head to bob up and down on him. He then held her and thrust deep into her mouth once more, and into her throat, only to pull out a little and then shove her all the way down with his cock in her throat again.
Her nose was buried in his pubic hair and he held her there, only to pull her off and then do it again. She had a hard time finding her breath and struggled to not gag as he vigorously fucked her face. She was panicked, alarmed at being used so violently. She had none of the control she felt she had when she was blowing Tim. At the same time, being used like this was arousing to her. Her vagina, moist from her efforts sucking on Tim, was positively wet as Stan's cock was thrust down her throat over and over. Her eyes watered, her nose was running, and she was struggling to breathe as he fucked her throat over and over. Finally he stopped, held her down with his cock deep in her throat and began to ejaculate. She struggled to swallow as he unloaded in her throat, not able to breathe as he finished. She was shaken but she did manage and she felt an odd sense of pride when he let go of her and she pulled back to gasp for air. He had come in her throat and she had done it okay.
She spent a minute or so trying to catch her breath and gain her composure before she approached Bob, the final set of legs, sitting across form Stan and next to Tim. When she stroked his legs, however, he reached down and with one hand just pressed her face to his leg. It was a gentle gesture. He stroked her cheek a few times, then patted her and let her go. He was turning down her services, which bothered her a little until she remembered that she had wakened him just a little while ago with her mouth and he was probably satisfied from that. She returned to her doghouse and waited until the men left. They had been talking about going out fishing, and with their typical banter, they headed out to the boat.
Melissa was still a little shaken from being face-fucked so roughly, and was trying to sort that out in her mind. Like virtually everything that she had experienced in the last several weeks, she was quite ambivalent. Just what it means to be a plaything, a toy, was becoming more clear to her. She really was an object for the most part. Her only purpose was to sexually satisfy the needs and fantasies of men. Strangers, men she did not even know the first thing about. And those fantasies were clearly not going to take her needs, likes, or feelings into account. That, too, was becoming clear.
What was most confusing about it all was how unconcerned about all that she was. In fact, she was beginning to find some comfort in letting go of any semblance of control, though she did not really recognize that just yet.
She returned to the kitchen to find Ron just finishing cleaning up. One look at her, her makeup a mess and some snot still around her nose and a slightly shocked look on her face, was enough to communicate to him that her blow jobs had been a little rough.
"Looks like you got a good face fucking," he said, wetting and handing her a wash cloth.
"I guess so."