It was a loud, raucous night at the Booty Lounge. I could hear a full-blown orgy going on in the main bar. Denny had just gotten back from Iraq, and upstairs, the Lane sisters were giving him a three-mouth salute. A spanking contest was in full swing in the bathroom, and not an ass was to be spared. Nights like these were what made the Booty Lounge the greatest dungeon in existence.
Poor Maggie was going to miss it all. Tucked away here in the corner of the storage room, Maggie was chained by her ankles and wrists to a cold wooden chair. Goggles painted black covered her eyes so that not even the barest trace of light would come in. Earphones pumped out an endless track of ocean sounds so she wouldn’t hear any of the debauchery happening around her. Maggie would never know what had happened this night except for what we told her later.
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Don’t feel too sorry for her. It was her own damn fault. Last night had been a little bit quieter, and Maggie made the mistake of declaring her boredom. No-Pants Wally, the owner, host and captain of our dirty little bar, overheard her, and let’s just say he was not amused. In a place where the come runs as freely as the liquor and no fetish is ever denied, No-Pants Wally felt it was your own damn fault if you were bored.
Now, it would have been perfectly acceptable if No-Pants had decided to kick her out of the Booty Lounge for the weekend, but no, the captain was in a mean mood. He gave her the option of either being exiled for an entire month or submitting to his punishment. Poor Maggie, she liked the idea of a special punishment so she chose that.
That was why she was sitting here, isolated from the excitement she had craved last night. She had been stripped nude, of course, because that’s just how we do things here. Her restraints kept her legs spread wide, and her wrists were on chains too short to allow her to touch herself. All she could do was sit and daydream about what might have been happening around her.
Oh, and she could suck. You see, Captain No-Pants Wally believes that everyone in his crew should serve a function. Maggie usually pays her way by playing serving wench, but since she was tucked away here in the storage room, No-Pants had decided that there was no reason not to put something else of hers to work. He had settled on her mouth.
Why was I sitting here in the storage room with her? Well, the captain isn’t a foolish man, and he knew that someone had to keep an eye on her. Even in the Booty Lounge, we just don’t leave someone tied up and helpless by herself. I volunteered because it’s my job at the lounge to chronicle the events for the newsletter. As the crew’s scribe, I am often the only sober witness, so why not witness Maggie’s denial of the things I usually record?
The first hour was uneventful. Maggie sat there, pouting and annoyed. I had my notebook out and was trying to come up with a poem that did justice to Maria’s big brown tits. Maggie just sat quietly, sighing only once in awhile.
Wildman was the first guy to come in. He nodded at me and then unzipped his pants in front of Maggie’s bound body. His pierced cock pointed straight at her unsuspecting mouth. With both hands, he grabbed hold of her dirty-blond hair and pulled her mouth onto his cock. She barely had time to smile before eight inches of cock and a metal stud went down her throat.
He fucked her face hard; you don’t earn a name like Wildman because you’re a gentle lover. I watched as he pounded her face with his hairy crotch. Maggie’s hands clenched and pulled at her chains, but the shackles held tight. Only her breasts could move freely, bouncing with every thrust of Wildman’s cock.
He climaxed with a roar of approval and then pulled his cock free. He might have slapped her face with his cock or he might have just been wiping himself off. Either way, he zipped back up and walked out. He left without saying a ward as Maggie panted in her seat.
That was just the start of the night. After Wildman left, a long parade of men came in to make use of her. It was if it took one cock to break the ice. One by one, they wandered in, ignoring me and making full use of Maggie’s mouth. Out in the bar, there were willing sluts with even more willing mouths, but here was the chance to just fuck a mouth without a word, a negotiation or a conquering seduction. In here was bound, choking, gasping Maggie.
And it wasn’t just the men who used her. Susan came in with her strap-on and assaulted Maggie’s mouth for a good half=hour. Belinda came in with six dildos and had Maggie get them nice and wet for the party in the bar. The Duchess propped her leg on Maggie’s shoulder, allowing Maggie access to her cunt. After sucking so many cocks, Maggie likely welcomed the taste of pussy, I thought. Well, not like she had any choice.
After three hours, I hung a sign on the storage room. I unlocked Maggie’s shackles from the chair but left them on her. A tug on her hair got her to follow me as we went into the main room of the Booty Lounge. Blind and deaf, she saw nothing of what Red Yolanda was doing to her slaves. I guided her to the bathroom where she did what essentials she had to. When it came time, it was I who wiped her cunt and ass, for the captain didn’t trust her not to masturbate even for a moment. I’m not sure who was more humiliated by the ass-wiping, Maggie or I. I made a note to talk to her about it later.
There was a line of men waiting outside the storage room when we came back. I brought her back to her chair and reattached the chains. Ready for business once again, I took down the sign, and we resumed her punishment.
I couldn’t imagine what it was like for Maggie. A cock went in, and then some sucking, licking and swallowing later, another cock replaced it. No words, harsh or kind, could she hear. Per the captain’s rules, no one touched her bare breasts or pinched a hard nipple. Her cunt was also forbidden, left to soak in its own juices. All she was tonight was a receptacle for come. Thrust, ejaculate, re-cock — that was all she knew.
Every so often, when there was a lull in the face-fucking, I would wipe her down. She would groan so much as the warm washcloth cleaned the come from her chin and chest. During these breaks, I would press a straw to her lips, and she would suck down water instead of come. These brief moments of care were all the kindness she was receiving this night, but I like to think they helped her during her punishment. Well, not too much. It was a punishment, after all.
It was during one of these breaks that Maggie spoke to me.
“Please, please help me come.”
I sighed and began to answer but then remembered that she wouldn’t be able to hear me, anyway. Mercy is not unheard of in the Booty Lounge. I had watched her sit her in this dark corner while endless parties happened outside the door. One cock after another she had taken without complaint. The captain had forbidden anyone to touch her, but if I broke the rule, I doubted Maggie would tattle.
I reached down between her legs. Her cunt was slick from servicing dozens of cocks that had parted her lips but never her thighs. I gave her a little stroke, and Maggie gave me a big moan. Her hips shook, and she clenched tightly on my finger.
“Oh, please, I have never wanted it so bad!” she said.
Neither had I. Watching this slut suck cocks all night long had made my own cock harder than steel. I pulled my finger out of her and pulled down my pants.
I grabbed her head and pulled her mouth to my cock. Maggie groaned, but she opened her lips and took me in. Her jaw was sore and her tongue exhausted, but she managed to suck the hell out of me anyway. It was a frantic sucking as she tried to somehow convince me to fuck her by the power of her blowjob. She struggled in her restraints, grinding uselessly in her seat as she tried to gain some sort of satisfaction for her neglected cunt. She mumbled as she sucked me, no doubt begging me to finger her cunt.
Instead, I reached down and groped her lovely tits. While the Captain had declared them off-limits, too, I indulged myself and squeezed hard. I pulled and tugged on her poor tits while she sucked my cock. My fingers teased her nipples, giving her ideas of what I could do to her clit. Maggie whimpered louder, but she never stopped sucking.
It didn’t take me long to climax. I emptied myself in her mouth, and Maggie faithfully squeezed out every drop. As soon as my cock pulled free of her lips, though, she went back to begging.
“Oh, please take me,” she said. “Just one orgasm, please!”
I pulled up my pants and went back to my seat. By the time I got my notebook open, Tito had come in with a hard-on. Maggie was still pleading when he slammed his cock into her mouth. I can only assume she knew what the answer was.
Poor Maggie. Did I deny her orgasm out of loyalty to the captain? Or did I deny her for my own sadistic pleasure? No, I did it because last night she was bored, and tonight, she was far from it. A horny mouth slave drunk on cunt and cock, she ached for release. She waited for a rescue that was hours away, trying to plead with her tongue to get something in return.
She couldn’t know whether she’d succeed in getting some sort of satisfaction: Maybe I’d give in and just fuck her. Or maybe the captain himself would come in and give her something to come on. Worst of all, maybe she’d just keep sucking and licking and her cunt would be neglected all night long.
No matter what, Maggie wouldn’t be bored tonight.
3 Responses to “Fiction: Open Mouth”
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“Denny had just gotten back from Iraq, and upstairs, the Lane sisters were giving him a three-mouth salute”
rg- Thanks :)
It’s like a pornographic Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon. Very amusing. ;-)