Chapter 1
Two years into the pandemic, things had taken a decidedly strange turn. Charlotte sat in her apartment’s guest room, now her office, trying to decipher Aidan’s code. It was a miracle that, between stroking his cock and playing video games, he found any time to implement the new payment provider.
I hope your goddamn dick falls off, Aiden!
She sighed and rubbed the front of her massively swollen diaper, the sodden pulp hot and heavy against her skin. The thick plastic sheet on her chair crinkled as she leaned back. If that code ever went to production, customer support would have an interesting afternoon until the change was rolled back.
It didn’t help that the agonizing pressure in her overpacked bowels twisted with sharp cramps.
Two years without a date! Three, if she was being honest with herself. The assortment of dildos, vibrators, and other expensive sex toys, all lined up on the shelf outside the webcam’s view, didn’t quite cut it. And now that woman she hired didn’t call when she needed her the most.
Never in a million years did I think I’d hire a dominatrix for whore training. But here I am.
The messages she sent to Aiden kept getting more aggressive with every bug and every missed edge case she discovered. At his usual speed, fixing all his blunders would take him another week, and he’d introduce new issues along the way. Even more crappy code to review.
When the annoying jingle announced the incoming video call from Victoria, she breathed a big sigh of relief. Quickly, she pointed the webcam downward and accepted the call from her usual position: on her knees in front of the desk, legs parted, hands behind her head.
The woman on the screen sat in a huge leather armchair in her elegant, Art Deco styled dungeon, dominated by chrome and dark, polished wood. As always, Victoria looked positively formidable. She was in her fifties, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a commanding bun, wearing a short, low-cut leather dress and, clearly visible thanks to a low camera angle, no panties. When the pandemic hit and threatened the existence of her brothel, she had pivoted to offering her services online.
“Thank God, Ms. Victoria,” Charlotte groaned. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”
“I don’t work on your schedule, you stupid cunt,” Victoria said in a friendly, conversational tone, sipping from a porcelain cup. “You’re not the only slut I have to supervise.”
Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Ms. Victoria. I meant no disrespect. I’m just–”
“Desperate to take a shit. I’m well aware.” Victoria picked up a riding crop from the side table and whipped it through the air. “That’s not my problem, now is it?” She sighed, tossing the crop aside. “I should raise my rates. Dealing with needy cunts like you is exhausting.”
“I’m sorry, I–”
Victoria raised her hand. “Who said you could open your trap? Looks like I have to teach you yet another lesson.”
Charlotte bit her lip and stared at the floor. Despite herself, she felt that familiar tingle as her nipples hardened and her clit began to peek out of its hood, begging for attention. That woman on the screen sure knew what got her going.
“I will not tolerate this lack of discipline.” Once again Victoria reached for her riding crop and pointed it toward the camera. “When did I say were you allowed to open your mouth?”
“When spoken to, Ms. Victoria.”
“And?”
Charlotte’s face flushed with barely suppressed anger. “For a cock, Ms. Victoria.”
“Now use your empty little head. Since I didn’t ask you any questions and you opened your face hole anyway, what’s the logical consequence?”
“Stuff it with cock, Ms. Victoria.”
With a growl, Charlotte reached for the cock gag that had lately become one of Victoria’s favorite instruments of torture and opened her mouth. The black rubber phallus was thicker than any dick she had ever sucked, and it pressed against the back of her throat. Thanks to rigorous training, however, her gag reflex was almost non-existent.
“And where’s the gratitude?” Victoria continued as Charlotte buckled the strap behind her head. “Just this afternoon I had an urgent session with that shit-for-brains investment banker. Thirty-eight years old, and in all her life, that frigid cunt never had a cock up her ass. Can you believe it?”
Talking was impossible with the gag in, so Charlotte shook her head. Victoria’s expression of utter disbelief would have been amusing if it weren’t for her stomach cramps.
“The woman has three holes to fuck, and she only ever used a single one. Just one! I had her bounce on a dildo for an hour, just to get her started. And what do I get for my efforts? Nothing but whining. ‘Please, Ms. Victoria, my ass hurts! Please, Ms. Victoria, I’m exhausted!’ It’s gonna take a while, breaking that ass in.”
Drooling on her thighs, Charlotte glanced over to her own collection of ridiculously large dildos and butt plugs. In a couple of months, that banker would be a seasoned anal slut, capable of taking even a man’s fist up her ass without flinching.
“So,” Victoria said. “I’m impressed you’re even able to hold your shit in at this point. A lot of my sluts have accidents when they spend three days stuffed with that Atlas plug.”
Charlotte mumbled something affirmative into her gag when she heard a faint meow from the speakers.
“Hold that thought.” Victoria said, lifting herself out of the armchair. “I have to feed Misty. Use the time to go through all the messages you sent to your colleagues today. Count the ones where you sound like a rude, entitled bitch. You think you can handle that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. And that gag stays in, you insolent cunt!”
The call ended.
Really? Fucking bitch!
Charlotte wanted to scream the words, but the black rubber cock choked her outburst. She slammed her fists on the desk and groaned into her gag.
After a few deep breaths, she pulled up the code review application to check the messages she had sent.