Portal Bra

I don't see my boss again for a whole week - which is ironic, given how often his cock is in my mouth. The gag that covers my mouth is invisible but can be sensed as an oily second skin. It's too intangible to be actually scratched away or otherwise removed, and there are times I almost forget it's there. There are times when I see my husband looking at my lips and I think he's about to kiss me, but then I remember he hasn't kissed me once since learning about the gag.

Because, of course, it's no ordinary gag. It's a gag that leaves my mouth entirely unobstructed most of the time, but portal technology allows my boss to claim my mouth whenever he likes. To use as a sex toy, of course. What else would you use cutting-edge technology for.

It was my husband's idea for me to try to steal the technology, but I was stupid enough to agree to his stupid plan. I was caught and my boss gave me a choice between being handed over to the criminal justice system (which would, no doubt, involve years of just waiting for trial, followed almost inevitably by more years in prison and fucked-up job prospects thereafter) or wearing the gag. Forever.

I blame the slowness of my wits on my general state of panic at the time. Mostly I worried about being able to breathe, about being able to eat and drink and kiss and, even, suck my husband's cock... Oh, cruel and bitter irony. The gag allows everything, being so insubstantial in its inactive state that you would not believe it there at all. I could, indeed, suck my husband's cock if he wished me too, but he is terrified the gag will activate while his cock is between my lips.

And he will not kiss me, for fear of tasting another man's cum there.

He will, however, watch with fascination as my unseen mouth is used by an unseen cock. He will stand there staring at me and stroking his cock while my elsewhere boss fucks my throat. He has set his morning alarm to six-fifty just so that he can be awake and ready at five past seven. Regular as clockwork, that is the first time each day my boss activates the portal. I'm usually still in bed, still half asleep, when the portal forces my mouth open and an erect and urgent cock thrusts into my mouth.

There's no sleeping through that, and even if I could, my husband's fingers pressing roughly at my pussy, stroking my clit and testing to see how wet I am, would certainly wake me. "Suck that cock, you dirty slut," he growls, as if I have any choice in the matter. My mouth is a sex toy for another man to use.

I used to like him calling me that. A bit of roleplay never hurt anyone, but now he says it with anger and his fingers are so impatient they hurt me. And he no longer kisses me. My husband fucks me with savage passion as I struggle not to gag as my throat is fucked by a man who is not him. My body welcomes this brutal use, but I can't deny a building resentment. I can't suppress the bittersweet delight in his revulsion at seeing another man's cum on my lips and in my mouth.

My boss has made a whore of me and a cuckold of my jealous husband, and part of me - the same part that used to love being called a dirty slut - wants to take it further. If my husband will not love me the way he should, then let him watch as others use my body.

But one week after that fateful day, my boss is back from wherever he was. The note he left for me on Monday said only 'Confidential Client Meeting - Back Friday', leaving me to fend off dozens of confused telephone calls from a hundred different people. But it's Friday now and he's back and has spent the whole morning on the phone to those same hundred people. He has pointedly said nothing about the fact that I've sucked his cock maybe twenty times over the course of the past week.

And he never replied to my cheeky message about portal panties. I've been kicking myself about that ever since. Really, it's bad enough that he can use my mouth whenever he likes. What would it be like if he owned my pussy as well?

Would my husband ever dare fuck me again, knowing that a portal might open while his cock was within me? Knowing that my pussy was wet with another man's cum?

The dirty-slut part of me is excited by the idea. The rational part of my mind? Not so much. I would gladly return to the way things were before. To having a husband who loves me and kisses me and with whom I get to enjoy being a dirty slut without feeling like a whore.

It's mid afternoon when he calls me in at last for a 'private and personal' discussion. I take a seat opposite him, eyeing him nervously as he regards me coolly. "I want," he says at last, "to give you a chance to reconsider the agreement we made last Friday." He's a handsome man and well dressed, and clearly used to authority. I have always admired him as a boss, while also feeling a little intimidated by him. I'm not, however, particularly attracted to him. It's very strange to look at him and think about his cock in my mouth. "I can remove the gag, if you wish, and let the criminal authorities handle the matter, as indeed I should have done."

He's asking me to choose between his use of my mouth for whatever deviant purpose he may delight in, or to have my future stripped away from me. It's still an absurd choice, but I won't be able to pretend any longer that I didn't give my fully informed consent to being a willing sex toy.

What an utter bastard.

When I don't answer immediately, he unlocks his phone and shows me the message I sent him. "Interesting that you should ask about portal panties. We do have some in development, and maybe you'd like to test a prototype once they're ready. There would be a substantial bonus for you if you did."

I keep my mouth firmly shut, but can tell by the heat in my cheeks that I am blushing.

"What we do have," he adds, "is a portal bra. As an official product tester, you would, of course, get a significant salary increase, but you would have to agree to wear it permanently, as with the gag."

My cheeks are practically burning. My boss is offering to pay me for the use of my breasts as another sex toy.

"Would their use," I dare to ask, my voice breaking with nervousness, "be limited to yourself?"

My boss blinks. "I'm not sure what you're suggesting, but I can assure you the company will want to perform a wide variety of tests with the portal bra. Being a product tester is a full-time job, with aftertime."

"I'd need to see the contract," I say, hardly able to believe what I'm already sort-of agreeing to.

"Of course," he says. "Take an hour to think about it."

He dismisses me, but I don't even make it back to my desk before the portal gag activates and his cock fills my mouth. It's an open-plan office and there's no hiding from my co-workers the void where my mouth should be. I wonder how many of them know exactly what my mouth is being used for.

It's impossible to concentrate on work, but I pretend to. My fingers tap aimlessly on the keyboard as my tongue and lips do what they have become so very accustomed to doing. I wonder what it would be like if he were fucking my tits instead, or if someone else were fucking my tits while he filled my mouth with his cock.

An e-mail arrives with the contract. I scroll through it, unable to focus on the words. The salary increase is significant, but to be honest, I don't even care. I want to do it. I want my husband to know my breasts belong to the company, and that one day my pussy will too.

I wait until my boss is coming deep inside my throat, his cum jetting out straight into my belly as the blood pounds in my ears, before signing the contract electronically and sending it back to him.

"Excellent," he replies. "Report downstairs to R&D for fitting."

*

The technician who fits the invisible bra is a young woman, which I find reassuring. "It's probably best if you wear a wire-reinforced bra on top," she says, "to maintain the appearance of breasts at all times." She lifts my breasts one at a time and runs her fingertips just below the inframammary fold then up around the sides, almost including my neck too.

I'm not a lesbian, and her touch is strictly professional, but the intimacy of her touch and the subtle oiliness of the portal material are almost erotic - although perhaps it's more my awareness of what this is likely to mean. "It will take a few hours for the portal device to properly calibrate to the size and shape of your breasts," she says. "It's a bigger challenge than the human mouth, especially since we designed that primarily as an aid to remotely and safely administer food and medicine."

Not as a sex toy, then, although clearly it works well for that purpose. "And the portal bra?"

"The original concept was to allow new mothers to continue breastfeeding after returning to work." Her delivery is so matter-of-fact. There's no indication in her expression that she knows there's no intention of using my breasts for that. "We'll begin testing on Monday," she says. "You may experience some sensation prior to that as the device adjusts to your body."

She checks the device with a handheld scanner for a few minutes, nods with satisfaction, and says, "All done. See you Monday - well, your breasts, anyway." There's a glimmer of a smile as she says this, enough to make me blush at the thought of my breasts being displayed here in the lab while I'm at my desk upstairs. The whole thing is so wildly improbable, so utterly absurd, I wouldn't believe it for a moment if I hadn't been living that improbability for the past week.

"Thanks," I say, getting dressed.

Stupid. I'm so stupid. First by agreeing to my husband's scheme, and then by letting myself get sucked into my boss's fantasy of me as a living sex toy for him to use however he wishes.

On the other hand, I'm not going to prison, and my salary just doubled. And Monday suddenly seems far too long to wait to see my husband's expression when he sees my chest swallowed up by an impossible void.

*

I don't tell the cuck about the increase in salary. We have always kept separate bank accounts and shared the bills, and whatever was left was our own to spend as we liked. That suited him when his salary was higher than mine, and now it suits me. I spend the weekend shopping for new clothes, including fully supportive bras that hopefully will retain their shape in the absence of my breasts.

On Monday I arrive at work looking very smart and formal, but underneath my cool, calm exterior I'm tense and excited. My husband is yet to notice the slight gleam to my breasts from the portal device, but I'm certainly aware of it. My breasts have been tingling quite pleasantly, and at times there has even been a gentle suction around my sensitive nipples.

At nine o'clock, however, while I'm logging in to the system and sipping filter coffee from a flask, the device activates properly for the first time. I know this because of the abrupt absence of the pressure from my bra. I feel suddenly as if I'm topless, although there's nothing visual to indicate that. To anyone looking at me, I'm prim and proper and suitably dressed.

But my breasts are definitely elsewhere. The air against them is cool, and I have the most awful temptation to touch them. My hands feel completely useless.

I rush to the bathroom - I have to see. I stare at my chest in the mirror there. With my shirt open and my bra removed, there is only a flat void where my breasts should be. My hands pass through empty space where I should feel soft flesh. Reluctantly I dress again and return to my desk, and make a surreal effort to concentrate on my work when really all I can think about is my breasts being elsewhere - and no one is touching them.

I keep waiting for something to happen to them. I expected hands and lips, not the cruel absence of touch. I'm tempted to march downstairs and to demand to know what they plan to do, but the thought of doing so is both embarrassing and ridiculous.

And when, at long last, I do feel something, it's a shock. They're using some kind of machine that massages my breasts and sucks gently on my nipples, and really it's quite nice but it's impossible for me to meet anyone's eyes without blushing. It's impossible to have a serious conversation with someone while an unseen machine is kneading your breasts like dough and sucking on your nipples like a newborn babe.

The technician had said the portal device had been designed with nursing infants in mind, and I can only guess that they're testing some nursing machine on my disembodied breasts. Whatever I was expecting when I signed that contract, it wasn't this.

At five o'clock precisely it stops, and my breasts are mine again - and so very tender. I spend half an hour in a cubicle in the Ladies' just cradling my bare breasts in my hands, relieved that they are mine to touch again. My nipples are swollen and almost too painful to touch, but...

But I guess, all things considered, there are worse ways to earn a salary.

*

I'm having dinner with my husband when the device activates again. "Was your boss there today?" he asks, as if the question isn't loaded.

"No," I say. "Trade fair, today." This time there is no machine. Instead there are hands on my breasts, a much more tender massage.

"But he..." It's curious how eager he is for me to be used by my boss, and yet cannot bring himself to say it.

"Not since this morning." A tongue swirls teasingly about my left nipple. This is what I signed that contract for. I'm still wearing the support bra and my husband has no idea what's happening to me.

I gasp involuntarily as a mouth sucks on a tender nipple. My husband's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Something's happening, isn't it. He's touching you now, isn't he?"

I unbutton my shirt and remove the bra, giving him a clear view of the void where my breasts should be. His eyes widen with shock. "I can feel his hands," I say, and he's kissing circles about my right nipple."

"A portal bra," he murmurs and reaches out tentatively to touch the black void.

The gag activates suddenly, forcing my mouth open, and a very familiar cock thrusts in. It should be impossible for one man to fuck my mouth while also kissing my breasts, but the portals make it possible for him to arrange my parts to suit himself.

My husband sits and watches, his cock in his hand, his eyes bright with satisfaction. If he were a real man, he'd do more than watch. I stand up and walk upstairs to the bedroom where I can sit naked on my bed and use my vibrator in comfort while my boss does delightful things to my breasts. His cock really is the perfect size for me, and I love the taste of it.

The cuck follows, of course, and even joins me on the bed as if it's his right to fuck me. I can't speak, not while my mouth is elsewhere entirely and anyway busy sucking cock, but I push him away with a foot. He can watch if he likes, but he's not getting closer.

My boss is massaging my breasts with some slippery gel. When his cock pulls out of my mouth and finds its way between my breasts, I'm not surprised. When a woman's breast presses against my lips and a soft mouth closes about my left nipple, it takes me a moment to understand that both breast and mouth are my own. I lick and suck on my own nipple as hands press my breasts together about a hard cock.

My husband has to use his imagination to guess what's happening. He kneels at the edge of the bed, stroking his erect cock as my vibrator works wonders on my clit. This sex I'm having is surreal, but I'm loving it.

If I close my eyes, I can almost see every detail of it. I can almost see my boss fucking a disembodied pair of breasts while a disembodied mouth licks at a swollen nipple. When I open my eyes, I see none of it, only my husband working his cock while I tease my clit with a vibrator. The cock fucking my tits is long and thick and very hard, and I love its urgent glide against my lubricated skin.

He repositions my mouth so that the head of his cock thrusts between my lips at the end of its stroke. I do my best to lick and suck on it each time it thrusts in. He pauses briefly to let me suck properly, and after a minute of this my phone chimes. Laughing, I reach for my phone and see he's sent me an image of my mouth and breasts wrapped about his cock. I show it to my husband.

Cum spurts across my leg from my husband's cock. Clearly the sight of another man's cock excites him too much. I scowl and kick him away from me, and he has the grace to depart without fuss.

The hands maul my breasts, rougher than ever, and the cock drives between them with determination. He's leaking copious precum too, the taste filling my mouth, and I'm sure he is close.

Abruptly he pulls away - but then his cum is striping across my breasts, first one then the other, and his cock thrusts into my mouth so that I can suck the last of his cum from his pulsing cock and lick him clean like the loyal slut that I am.

My breasts reappear from the void, gleaming with coconut-scented gel, several creamy strands of cum a souvenir of their recent use. My husband is watching from the doorway, and I proudly display my cum-splashed breasts that belong now to my boss and his company. My sex-toy mouth is still being used, or I would make my husband watch me lick the cum from them. Instead I make a point of massaging the cum into my skin as I suck lovingly on my boss's wilting cock.

I know what my husband is thinking: "Dirty slut." And he's right. That's exactly what I am.

I snatch up my forgotten vibrator and return it to my clit, working myself quickly to a much needed and well deserved orgasm. And I love that my boss hears my every cry of pleasure.