Chapter 2: The Diary of a Femdomme – Chapter 2 [Forced-Bi] [Gloryhole] [Degradation]

"Are you sure?" slut asks, nervously.

"I am, it'll be okay" she replies, leading him into the toilets.

The length of the room seems so long as his Mistress hurriedly, clasps her sluts hand, pulls him past rows of urinals and into the end toilet cubicle. Without missing a beat or a skip, Mistress gently closes the cubicle door and locks it, hanging her bag on the hook on the door.

"There it is, slut", she whispers, pointing.

No time to think, no time to bail, no time to get overwhelmed.

"Strip", again, whispering.

Taking off his shirt, and looking around where it can go, she takes it off him and hangs it up on the door. Next comes the belt buckle, the clinking of the metal reverbs through the bathrooms, as the main door to the bathroom swings open.

The slut freezes, hands holding his belt open, unsure, looking up at his owner for a hint, a suggestion, help. Shrugging and silently mouthing "I don't know" in response, the slut remains frozen in place, waiting to hear, waiting for anything that will give him a clue.

The noise of a zip echoes through, followed by the sound of a stream of piss. "Oh well" she mouths playfully, as he finally exhales, removing his jeans; and as those tight fitting jeans slide around his perfectly shaped buttocks and make their way down his thighs, they gradually reveal a pair of stockings, tied tightly around his shaved, smooth legs - we wouldn't want any visitors to think there was anything but the prettiest trap on the other side.

Her hand runs through her pets hair, reassuringly, and she gestures to for him to sit on the lid of the toilet; the cold, plastic lid initially sending a shock of cold through his body, he soon adjusts. He looks up at her, scared, nervous, but with a thirst, a glimmer, in those eyes.

She continues to stroke his hair and his face, his eyes close, it's soothing. Her soft hands create a sense of warmth and calm in the anxious whores mind. He knows what's happening and he wants it, deeply, but there are so many implications, so many stresses, but none of it matters when her skin touches his. This is just what it is, and it is okay. He feels it.

The next cubicle door opens and closes, and before the door is even locked, sluts eyes open like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. "I don't know", she shrugs, but a foot appears underneath the cubicle wall. Without breaking eye contact, she confidently, but lightly, knocks on the cubicle wall.

Slowly, a flaccid, uncut cock slides through the dim, waist-height, dark hole, presenting itself to the slut. A few inches long, drooping over a set of balls. Softly with his fingertips, slut strokes it across the side of the shaft, and once again underneath, exploring the first dick he's felt other than his own. He is curious, he is intrigued. He is excited.

His owners hand cups the back of the sluts head, not pushing, just holding, encouraging, and with the reminder of his support, the slut begins teasing the flaccid cock in front of him, watching it grow the more his fingers explore. The soft prick tenses, flexes, and twitches, as the sluts hand continue to stroke the length of the presented dick. Grabbing it with his hand and pulling the now firm cock, sliding the foreskin back and forth over his clients glans, he takes a moment to appreciate the long, erect prick, which curves upward ever so slightly.

A light groan emanates from next door, and prompted by the eager guests support, the whore extends his tongue. Starting at the base, the whore laps the firm, heavy pair of balls that have been exposed by his visitors upright erection - playing with them, pulling on the skin, withdrawing his tongue and pulling the skin with lip covered teeth.

Re-extending his tongue, the slut licks the understand of the rigid, hard cock that's in front of him - it's just a little longer than average, 18cm or so at a rough guess, and thick enough to feel meaty and heavy in ones hand. The slut licks, all the way to the tip, which at the timely moment, twitches and releases drops of precum around the glans and down onto the sluts tongue.

He pauses. He takes some breathes, taking this all in, trying to focus on the reality, that this is real.

This is happening. Right now. This is real.

There's some resistance when his head is guided back towards the waiting member - as his Mistress applies ever more pressure to the back of his skull. The need to submit, and the need to taste more connects with his body and the resistance drops. He takes the full length of the prick into his mouth and sucks.

As he tastes real dick for the first time, filling his mouth entirely, the whore feels a few trimmed, light whispers of pubic hair ticking his nose, and with each breath he absorbs the fresh, musky smell of a rock solid cock - sliding up to the tip, but not over, the whore moves back down again. Over and over again. Taking his time, slowly.

Eyes closed, he is in his element - sucking a dick for the first time, tasting what a real man tastes like, trapped in a cubicle with his Mistress, who is ever so engrossed watching her plaything suck his first dick, one of many to come. He knows this is his role, and like the intense satisfaction one gets while touching their own dick after days of desperation, sucking a dick gives him the same satisfaction. It is relief to finally taste it.

Allowing a few minutes of sensual sucking to pass, she reaches down and takes her sluts hand, leading it to the balls of his anonymous guest - instinctively, the hands begin pulling the guests balls down, fully stretched, the foreskin fully exposes the full member, so sensitive and exposed, it responds to the wet textures of the whore's moving lips, ever increasing in speed and intensity, as the role of "slut" fully overtakes and overpowers any sense of person he once may have had.

"My slut is a cocksucker", she whispers in his ear.

He moans and sucks faster.

"You have a real cock in your mouth right now", she offers.

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Faster.

"This is your only fucking job from now on, bitch"

More moaning.

"I bet you want to taste him cum".

Nodding.

Her hand slides down her sluts back, and her index finger teases her sluts hole.

Moaning.

"You're going to make this man cum in your mouth"

Faster.

"You're going to taste the cum of another man in your mouth"

Harder.

"You're going to swallow it all"

Gagging.

Grunting from the other side of the wall.

"It's happening bitch"

Faster.

"You're going to drink his fucking cum"

Faster.

"Finish him off with your hand, bitch"

As he watches his hand rubbing his own spit into the full length of the twitching prick, the anonymous grunting becomes louder and more intense, more frequent, harder - and the whore, with a smile on his face, feeling his visitors dick tensing up, just as he has felt hundreds of times before himself, knowing, sensing, the impending eruption about to take place, moves to be ready to collect his disgusting, desperate reward.

Just as the sluts lips are about to make contact with the exposed glans, the Mistress's hand grips her pets hair tightly - preventing him from moving any closer, and at that exact second, the sucker watches as his guest unloads. Shooting inches into the air, rope after rope of cum lands on his face, in his hair, all over his lips, covering his nose, his eyelids, all over his fucking face but like a good boy, he continues to milk his guests cock, and as the pressure releases, spunk drips down the back of his hand until the fluid ruins clear, and stops altogether.

Moments pass, and the dick softens and he slips away, out of the bathroom, ever thankful, and satisfied knowing that back in the bathroom stall, there's some pathetic cocksucker, dressed in stockings, having spunk scooped from his face and into his mouth by his Mistresses fingers.

"is there more?" slut asks, nervously.

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