Chapter 1
I really should have kept my greedy little fingers to myself. It was a miracle – a concession to my well-connected father – that I was still alive and able to work off my debt.
Too bad it had to be in a cartel-owned whorehouse.
I knelt naked in my dirty, steel-barred cell, playing with the heavy steel collar around my neck. Three meters of chain, locked to the back of the collar, anchored me to the wall. The air in the windowless room was thick and stale, heated by the glare of wall-mounted monitors and numerous spotlights that illuminated every corner for the cameras.
There were only a few items of furniture: a large bed with a blue plastic mattress, a squat toilet, and a sink. Not that the toilet helped me much; it was covered by a steel lid and padlocked. On the floor, a dozen colorful dildos and plugs were lined up like trophies, from large to impossibly huge.
A ping rang out from the adjoining cell. “Thank you, baby,” Marisol cooed. “You’re a real gentleman.”
Mari was a cutie, a party girl and part-time dealer who had used too much of the merchandise for herself. One of her viewers must have paid for an orgasm, and she made quite the show of it, moaning as the vibrator hummed softly. Unlike with others down here, there were no fake orgasms with that girl.
Another ping. “Plug my ass while I come? Sure, baby. You know I like it big. I come so much harder when my holes are stuffed.”
She still had a lot of hole stuffing ahead of her until that debt was paid.
Before, when I was still running distribution in town, I had fucked dozens of girls like her, including half the current staff of this whorehouse. Now, that option was off the table.
I glanced down on myself, staring at my crotch where my balls and my magnificent cock had been – my pride and joy until that bitch of a cartel doctor cut it all off. The wound had healed nicely, and all that remained of my junk was a faded scar and the small, almost invisible hole to pee. At least the bitch had been competent.
“Carlita?” I heard Paula’s voice from cell seven. “Are you busy?”
“Yes,” I shouted back, my chain scraping over the floor as I paced through the cell.
“Liar! I’m coming over.”
My voice – no longer the deep voice of Carlos Reyes – was higher now, and the lack of testosterone had made my breast tissue grow. After two years, they weren’t huge like my mother’s, but still impressive: two generous handfuls with enlarged, sensitive nipples. Instead of idly stroking my dick, like I had done so often in my old life, I couldn’t help but play with my large-gauge nipple rings.
Paula appeared outside my cell, holding a pair of handcuffs. She was a busty brunette, one of the free whores, and all she wore at the moment was a fat black strap-on. With a grin on her face, she peered through the steel-barred door. Then it buzzed open.
“Spread ‘em,” she said, her grin widening. “Fifteen minutes of ass fucking, coming right up.”
“That’s gonna get dirty.” I glanced at the locked toilet. “Any chance…?”
She shook her head, hefting the fake cock. “Sorry, Carlita. You know that’s not allowed.”
With a sigh, I climbed on the bed, my butt toward one camera and my face toward the other. Most viewers wanted to see both. The regulars knew I hadn’t been allowed to take a dump in days. They’d be jacking off at home, probably imagining having their own dicks cut off and getting their asses wrecked by oversized cocks.
Head on the bed, I crossed my arms behind my back, waiting until the handcuffs clicked shut. By now, I was docile and very well trained.
“Good girl,” she said, reaching between my legs where my precious balls had been. It gave me goosebumps. “By the way, Miguel was really happy with your performance. That was some world-class cock sucking last night.”
I kept my mouth shut. For all intents and purposes, I really was one of the girls now. One of the whores. It was always the same schedule: days I worked the cams, nights I worked upstairs, opening my mouth for every dick that appeared in front of my face. I’d stopped counting how many I sucked in a night.
The old me would have found the thought alone disgusting, repulsive. The new me found a strange sense of accomplishment. Making them grow in my mouth, taking them deep down my throat, feeling them twitch as they shot their load. And of course hearing their compliments for my skills, for my well-shaped tits.
I felt my ringed nipples harden when Paula spread lube around my anus. I cursed the handcuffs. The urge to pull on my rings and rub my smooth crotch was almost overwhelming. She never let me, and knowing Paula, I had a wild ride ahead of me.
“You love that, huh,” she taunted me as I clenched my buttocks in anticipation. “You’ve become such a cock-hungry slut.”
The chain locked to my collar rattled as she wrapped it around her hand, pulling it taut. I drew in a shaky breath through my compressed throat. When the clock with the fifteen-minute countdown appeared on the screen, I stuck out my butt, and she took the invitation. None too gently, using the chain as a leash, she slammed the large cock home, making me grunt and grimace.
“Take that, little bitch!” She slapped my ass, settling into a brutal rhythm, making my breasts bounce and slap into each other. “I know it’s wrong, but I love packing your shit. Feels good, dishing it out for a change.”
I grimaced as she rammed it to the hilt. “Mine was never this big.”
“It was all right, though. I liked sitting on it.” She reached around, squeezing my right breast. “At least you got something in return, Carlita. Your tits are nice; I didn’t think they’d get this big.”
“Me neither.”
Paula had stamina. Encouraged by the soft ping of tips rolling in, she kept going, stretching my asshole and giving my already-full bowels a savage reaming. It went well enough. Then, at minute eleven, she yanked the chain, and that was it. I lost control of my bladder.
“Sorry!” I whined as the undirected stream of urine splashed on the plastic mattress.
She paused for a moment. “My God! You’re pissing everywhere!”
“I can’t help it!” I gasped, still peeing as she slapped my ass. “They didn’t let me piss all day.”
“That’s no excuse, Carlita!” She sighed, then continued her thrusting. “Can’t be helped, we’ll have to finish like this.”
There was no point in holding back now. I just let it run. When the timer finally showed zero at minute fifteen, the puddle of piss had spread to my face.
She pulled out of my gaping asshole and helped me sit on the bed. The huge dildo dangling between her legs was no longer black, but now slathered with a thick, creamy, light brown substance.
“Eww, Carlita!” Paula smirked. “You got shit on my dick!”
Applause blared from the speakers, announcing another large tip. I didn’t even have to look at the screen to know what it was. They did it every single time.
“What do you say?” she asked, painfully tugging my left nipple ring.
I gulped, facing the camera. “Thank you, viewers. I love sucking shit off a cock.”
“Very good,” she said. “You’re in luck, Carlita, there’s plenty on it.”
“Can we at least take off the handcuffs?” I asked without much hope.
She smirked. “But Carlita, handcuffed face-fucks were your favorite. I think it’s only fair if I return the favor.” With my chain wrapped around her hand, she pointed at the floor. “Down, girl. Show our viewers what you can do.”
I dropped to my knees, feeling a lump of shit pushing itself through my loose asshole. There was no way to stop it. Approaching from below, I wrapped my lips around the dirty dildo, starting to suck the mix of lube and shit into my mouth. The taste was vile, but sickeningly familiar, and it no longer made me retch. Standing still in front of me, she patted my head as I sucked the grime off her strap-on, occasionally ramming the dirty thing down my throat.
“That’s good enough,” she said finally. “Let’s clean up a little.”
Another round of applause and a text message on the screen announced that someone wanted to see me on the Goliath, the largest of my monstrous plugs. I groaned. The thing made Paula’s strap-on look like a pencil, and as soon as I’d worked it into my ass, they’d tip for time extensions. I’d probably be stuck with it for the rest of the day.
At least it would keep my shit in.
“The Goliath, huh,” she said, glancing at the ridiculously fat piece of pink silicone, suction-cupped to the floor. “You’re really getting stuffed today. But we’ll do that in a minute.”
She grabbed the chain close to my collar and pushed my head down toward the pile of feces on the floor, just like a pet that wasn’t yet housebroken. A couple of centimeters above the pile, I inhaled deeply. The stench was eye-watering, but my nipples were harder than ever.
“Come on, Carlita, your viewers paid for this! Eat up.”