Despair Zip-Tied to the Automated Milking Machine
I hadn't seen the Masked Man in a long time, and I thought I was safe. But then, a message popped up on my phone—photos of my past "play sessions."
Masked Man: "Little Boss, busy lately? If not, come over for some fun?"
My heart stopped. I typed back with trembling fingers: "...Please... don't send those to my employees... I'll come over tonight..."
Upon arrival, I had no choice but to sit obediently. Heavy, slutty makeup was applied to my face against my will, my lips painted a fiery red. Then came the outfit: a streetwalker ensemble designed to provoke pure lust.
To satisfy his twisted desires and entertain the audience, he dressed me in 13cm open-crotch high heels and cheap, shiny black pantyhose. He tore open the back of the stockings and shoved an electric toy inside me, fixing it in place. A pony-harness gag was strapped onto my face, silencing my protests.
Stage 1: Mirror Standing Ordeal First, I was made to stand with my legs spread wide. He commanded me to look down—the floor was a mirror. I had to watch in shame as the toy ravaged my insides, a constant reminder of my current lowly status. Then, the vibrating wand touched me. It was too fast; I was milked dry in minutes. But this was just the warm-up.
Stage 2: Aerial Milking Next, I was hoisted into the air. Suspended and helpless, I struggled and twisted, but it was useless. Even my head was fixed in place. The sensation of floating while being edged and milked was terrifying.
Stage 3: The Ultimate Shame - M-Leg Automated Machine Finally, the main event. I was positioned into a humiliating "M" squat in front of the automated milking machine. Fearing ropes wouldn't be enough, he used thin zip ties to secure my limbs to the cage. My neck, my fingers—everything was completely immobilized.
The automated milking machine roared to life!
I glared at him with wide eyes. Was I hating him? Or was I overwhelmed by the pleasure of the cup incessantly rubbing my coronal ridge?
"Glaring at me?" he laughed. "I guess I'll have to turn it up!"
I shook my head violently, screaming mutely into the gag, but the machine had no feelings. With a miserable wail, white liquid sprayed out.
But the machine didn't stop.
The pleasure continued, turning into an ordeal. My sensitivity spiked in the refractory period, making my screams louder and my struggles more desperate. But I knew this wasn't enough to satisfy him or the audience.
So... it continued.