Toy Store

"I'm not going in there," Robby laughed, heroically, reeking from the mixture of beer and the cake girl's perfume. "Colleen would call off the wedding if she knew I'd been in a place like this." He tried to back away from the blackened door, but he encountered a mass of sweaty men behind him blocking withdrawal.

"See boys," his best friend Mark, chided. "Collar already firm around his scrawny neck. What's next? No beer night? Laundry every Friday night like a good little houseboy? Maybe she'll even get him a uniform to perform for her in." Guffaws ensued with percussive slapping of Robby's back.

"I'm not leashed, idiots," he scratched at his neck.

"Oh, yeah," Mark snickered, "then go inside. We ain't telling her what our little virgin did tonight." Mark cued the laughing gallery with a crotch grab and woofing sound.

"I'm not a virgin."

"Then nothing to fear inside, Rob-baby. You've seen it all. Done it all. Bet you will be out in no time with a bored look on your face then. Rob-baby."

"Don't call me that."

"But you do what Colleen says when she calls you that."

"Yeah, but she has a pussy and you don't."

"He's got you there, Mark," Tony admitted, guzzling down the rest of this fifth beer. He tottered, stumbling into Robby who braced himself by using the door's sweat-etched knob.

"Good one, Tony." Mark praised.

More laughs or jeers. With the blood alcohol level, it was hard to discern the difference.

"Please, Mark." Robby pleaded, sounding like he was back on the elementary school playground.

"Poor little cry baby, Rob. Scared of a Toy Store." Mark suckled the end of his beer bottle.

"Do you need more of mommy's milk to get your scared ass inside that door?"

"You're an asshole. I've seen the people who come out of this store."

"Rob, Rob, Rob," Mark recited, "if you ain't a virgin, then nothing to be scared of. Heck, you're wedding isn't for three days, so we have time to clean you up by then."

Rob turned the doorknob, just to get away from the laughter. Why had he asked Mark to be best man? If Mark was going to act like this, there would be no alcohol at the wedding. He'd save Colleen's

parents a mint on that alone with the amount his friends drank. Reminder past friends. After the wedding he was sending them friendship over cards, instead of thank you notes.

Fluorescent lights met his unprotected stare. Whatever he had expected, dark moldy grime and grizzly screams, it wasn't Beethoven music and a man whose rolls of flesh bubbled under his shirt as he moved between the stainless steel shelves polishing. Jim Bob, as his mesh shirt proclaimed, tugged his chin-length beard and with feigned

interest, eyed Robby with the precision of a body cavity search.

"Don't tell me," he sounded bored, "bachelor party, bet, and blasted. The three B's that say you are too chicken shit to be any fun. If you throw up, you clean it up. Just washed the floors from the last moron, and I'm not into babysitting again. Should I get the bucket now, or can you hold your liquor until you leave?"

"Not very friendly are you?" Robby let the alcohol go with whatever it wanted to say.

"Show me the money, and I'll squeeze your ass for free, but no free boners. Money or get out of here and take your lewd friends with you. They're cutting down on the real business if they keep blocking my door."

"How do you know they're blocking the door?"

Jim Bob picked up an electric cattle prod and waved it in Robby's direction.

"Okay, okay, okay. How much?" Robby yanked out the wad of bills Mark had stuffed down the front of his boxers.

"If that wad is wet you pay double. Let me get the gloves." Putting down the prod, Jim Bob shuffled over to the counter and extracted a pair of Latex gloves from the freebie box by the register. "Hand it over," he said, putting out his hand for Robby's deposit.

Robby put the crinkled mass into his rubber hand.

"Humph, boner or wetting yourself tonight?" Jim Bob uncreased the limp bills. Before Robby could respond, he answered himself. "By the looks of you, you need to be diapered and spanked. Throw in a mercy fuck discount because I do have a modicum of pity for your ass, and that gives you a full peep show in your very own control room. Jim Bob pressed no-sale on the register and tossed the bills in need of laundering inside for later sanitation.

"Control room?" Robby was back on the playground blubbering. Maybe the laughter outside wasn't so bad after all.

"If there is a God, it hates me. Why else would I have to handhold

your type every weekend?" He pulled back the black curtain behind

the counter. "First door on the left."

Robby shook his head 'no'.

"Door's behind you. No refunds." Jim Bob nodded to his drinking buddies, but left the curtain pulled so Robby could stagger through.

Hearing the door rattle, Robby squeezed between Jim Bob's stomach and the wall. The wall didn't give, but Jim Bob's stomach spread out around him in a mid-waist hug of physical suction.

"Remember, you puke, you and your boyfriends get cleaning duty." Jim Bob's mint breath hissed on the back of his neck. Slipping the curtain shut, Jim Bob filled the exit with his behind. "Door on the left, numb nuts. Your money doesn't last all night and Sheila needs to go home to her kids."

Robby felt his way in the semi-darkness, finding the first door on

his left. A 'cleaned and ready' sign hung on the door handle. Pushing

the unlatched door open, he found himself in a small room filled with

a padded chair and table before a one-way mirror.

"Showtime." Jim Bob's voice broke through on the hidden speakers embedded in the ceiling. "This is your orgy, God from on high. Sit your ass down in the chair. If you need tissues there is a box on the

table.

Robby sat down cautiously. "You photographing me?"

"Hell no, you're way to boring for something like that. Blind as a bat to what goes on in your side."

Robby could hear a click, and floodlights illuminated the other side of the mirror, offering up a wooden stage, backdrop dripping with bolts and metal rings. Jim Bob sat on a high metal chair with a microphone in his hand. Before him, a surgical table stood covered with different samples of toys sold outside.

"Guy or gal?"

Robby blinked.

"You aren't the one with a gag, boy. Do you want to see nuts or a pussy? What makes that squeaky clean cock of yours grow?"

"Girl. Pussy. I like pussy," Robby hoped.

"Okay Sheila, your turn again tonight. Sorry, hon, but this one shouldn't take long. He's probably half jerked off in that seat of his already just at the thought of your luscious lips walking out here."

Robby sat with his hands as far from his groin as was comfortable. He might be sitting in the chair, but that didn't mean Jim Bob could control his wand or make him come. Mark was probably related to the bastard on his father's inbreeding side.

Heeled boots clicked onto the stage. Sheila placed herself spread eagle for Robby's viewing so he could catalog her features for later revival: black shiny boots with metal buckles rising to her knees; fishnet crotch-less pantyhose keeping her plump legs held back tightly; unclad pussy hanging out for airing; and black see-through material draped over bountiful breasts in a baby doll chemise that framed two belly piercings available for easy grabbing. She moved her legs together, collapsed her arms at her sides, and awaited the

first command.

"Let me give you a hint. You're the kind that doesn't want to hear a peep while you whack off in her body. I'd suggest a nice ball gag." Jim Bob lifted up a ball and collar contraption.

Silence.

"You do know how this works, right?" Jim Bob inquired.

Silence.

"Great. Seeing as the exit bell hasn't gone off, I know you're still in there. Probably breathing really hard right about now at the sight of

pretty Sheila here. So I'll walk you through this in baby steps. This is a store. This is a toy store. This is your private play party. Call it

premarital education if it makes you feel better. You choose the toys. We show you how they work. First one to come, wins. Not really, we run until either you scream for us to stop or your money runs out. Breathing really hard and mumbling 'stop' also works. Microphone in your cell is pretty good at picking up heavy breathing. Turns

Sheila on. Doesn't it, girl?"

Sheila nodded and sucked on her finger.

Robby clenched his legs tight. Saying Colleen's name over and over in his head, he hoped the mantra would clear him of any sin. "How can she breathe in that gag?"

"Good question. See this pretty pink ball, has holes in it."

"But how can she tell you to stop?"

Jim Bob shook his head in bewilderment. "Boy, you aren't paying for her to say 'no'. You're paying her for a dripping wet crotch. You're wasting precious time here. Do I have to come over to that

room of yours and whip you into talking?"

"No!" Robby grabbed his crotch.

"Good, then start her purring. She's all yours tonight. What will you do with your party girl?"

"Gag her," Rob blurted.

Jim Bob scuttled off his chair, pink gag in hand. "Pink candy for the lovely lady. Now open wide for our boy's dick to suction out that mouth of yours."

Sheila's mouth opened at Robby's whim. Curling out her tongue, she licked the ball, rolled it down her tongue, and sucked it into her mouth.

"She must like you, boy. Look at how much you fill her mouth." Jim Bob strapped the collar around her black curls and latched it tight into her hair. "She's got you by the balls, boy. She is all yours. No one is going to hear a peep out of her until you've had your rocket go off.

Robby's breath quickened and he loosed the belt around his waist.

"Now speaking from personal experience, I'd suggest getting those hands of hers out of commission. Don't want her to scratch your

pecker and she looks mighty nice with her arms behind her and those boobs hanging on for dear life." Jim Bob walked over to the table and

held up handcuffs, wrist constraints, and thick rope. "Dealer's choice."

"Tie her to the wall, arms above her head," Robby grunted. Undoing his pants, he wiggled his ass clear of them and his boxers. His dick naturally sought out his hand for one-on-one combat.

"Well, I'll be. We have a director to our scene after all, Sheila.

Sheila exposed her wrists, placing them together in front of her body. Jim Bob looped the white silk rope around her flesh, forming a natural hook in the middle. Taking hold of the bite, he led her face first up the stage steps and to the wall. He left her, face to the wall, and walked back to his table of fun and microphone.

"Nice ass she has. Good, plump, meaty ass that you can really grab hold of. How do you want to do her? Face first, or from behind. With that gag in her mouth, she isn't going to stop your advances."

"I want to see the ass." Robby was behind the chair now, grinding his hips in, and holding onto the chair's sides to keep it still.

Jim Bob saluted him. "Is that a standing ass or kneeling ass? Do you want her hanging by her wrists, back curved so you can rake your

nails down her back?"

"Squat her." Robby leaned down into the chair, thrusting into the padded leather.

Jim Bob nodded and strode back onto the stage. "Boy, wants to see your ass, Sheila. Ass it is."

Sheila hung her head.

"It will be over soon, girl. Can already hear the pants coming from back there. Raise your hands."

Jim Bob hung the loop over a bolt at breast height, and tapped the steel toe of his boot into the back of her knees. "Boy wants to see you

hung tonight. Kneel for your boy."

Head sagging forward, she bent her knees and lowered herself to the floor. Rotating her head, she hung as flat to the wall as her breasts allowed. Jim Bob patted her on the shoulder, and whispered something in her ear then stepped back to the sterile metal table.

"As you wanted her, boss. She's now wide open for your entry. You want her to come to your stallion, right? You want to seed her? Fill her up and top her off? She's hot that one. Want me to work her

up nice and wet for you? There's this magic wand here. Can do magic down there. Make her squirm and buck into that wall. Make her stain it wet for you." Jim Bob held up an electrical toy for Robby

to see.

"Do her. Make her come." Robby tried to stab his cock through the leather, nearly falling over the top in his humping.

"Oh, she won't have a choice with this against her pussy. No one holds out for more than a minute with this thing set to high."

"Put it on high," Robby bellowed.

Jim Bob strode wand first to his master's bidding. He plugged the device into the floor socket, and stroked the girl's hair. "Boy wants his magic wand in your pussy. He is driving on high tonight."

Sheila clenched down on the gag and pushed her head against the wall.

"Push her into the wall," Robby stuttered.

Jim Bob placed his elbow into her shoulder blades, and turned on the wand. The reverberations shook down his arm.

"Give it to her. Give it to her." Robby spasmed against the chair.

"As you say, Sir." Jim Bob acquiesced and put the wand between her thighs, pressing up against her pussy. He held her firm against the wall as her body convulsed.

"Don't you dare turn it off, I'm not done yet." Robby throttled the top of the chair with his hands and made the back take his full frontal

weight.

Jim Bob held fast, keeping her pinned to the wall as she swallowed her own screams and bruised her hips from bucking against the wood.

Robby stood up and grabbing hold of his cock, jerked himself off the final distance to erupt in a white fountain that blurred Sheila's shivering body.

"Please, Sir," Jim Bob shouted loud enough to be heard over the microphone, "Can I let up on her yet. You've made her come, master. She's all yours now."

Robby looked out the whitened glass to watch Sheila writhe and try to desperately break away from Jim Bob's hold. "Yeah, I'm done. Let

her go."

Jim Bob flipped the switch on the wand, and let Sheila collapse from her wrists. Jim Bob walked back to the table, and hit a switch by

his chair. The lights went out on their side, leaving Robby alone.

"Shows over, boy. I'll trust you to show yourself out now while I clean up. Shawn is on the desk if you want to purchase any products on your way out to take home to that lovely wife-to-be of yours and give her a little one-on-one show and tell. Oh, and don't be a stranger if that wife of yours isn't as much fun as our little Sheila here. We'll

give you frequent flier miles." Jim Bob flipped another switch and turned off the PA system. The show was over.