Media & Erotic Literature

His Dollgirl
BigBrucey 9 Reviews 1412 reads
posted

Master told me to be ready by 11pm. Short skirt, no panties, tank top, no bra . . . and no shoes.

We had driven for about 45 minutes, when Master pulled into a parking space at the rest stop. There were no other cars, but the big rig parking was full. Master told me to go sit on the picnic table and wait for Him. In my bare feet, I picked my way along the sidewalk to the darkened picnic table. Sitting on the table, I waited quietly. Master returned, after about ten minutes, with His black bag.

“Lay down,” He ordered. He pulled my arms over my head. I felt the ropes being wrapped around my wrists . . . then Master tied them to the table. My skirt was pulled up around my waist, exposing my pussy to the night. Looking down at me, He pulled the black tank top up and over my face.

“No one wants to see your whore face,” Master said. “ All they care about are these. (He twisted my nipples) This. (He slapped my pussy) And this. (He rubbed my asshole)”

It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps. Voices were muffled with the tank top over my head. The feeling of a cock pushing into my pussy was unmistakable. This first one didn’t last long, but another quickly took its place. The seventh or eighth dick wanted my ass. Hands grasped my ankles, pulling them towards my head. He had trouble getting in and finally just shoved His way inside me making me cry out in pain. Laughter was heard. Five or six dicks . . . maybe more . . . helped themselves to my brown hole. Hands were grabbing my tits, pulling and twisting my nipples. Combinations of moans and cries came from my covered mouth. They were back to using my cunt. One of them began rubbing my clit while he fucked me. I was on the edge when He groaned loudly and filled His condom. The next Man came after a few strokes. I was out of my mind!! I needed to cum soooo badly.

Things got quiet. Footsteps moved away from me. Master untied my wrists and helped me sit up. The tank top was pulled off me as I sat. Master pushed me to my feet and yanked my skirt to the ground.

“A patrol is due shortly,” He spoke. “We’re continuing over there.” I was shoved in the direction of the big rig parking.

A truck flashed its lights twice. We moved to the rear of the truck. The large doors were open and I could see men inside, already stroking their cocks. A few of them reached down and hauled me up. Cardboard covered the floor.

Master joined me as the group closed in. Standing naked in front of all these men made me feel dirty. Looking at them made me feel dirty. Master drew my hands behind my back and, once again, tied my wrists. A ball gag was placed in my mouth. The group moaned . . . a complaining type of a moan.

“The rules haven’t changed, Gentlemen,” Master announced. “Except now, You may cum on the whore, On her head. On her tits. On her face. Cover her. She’s a filthy cum rag. Treat her like one.”

Hands pressed me to my knees. A boot in the middle of my back knocked me forward. A big dick tore into my asshole. A dozen or so real hard strokes before He pulled out. Moving in front of me, His load hit my face. Instinctively, my tongue snaked out of my mouth to taste it. It was awful. Unclean. I thought I was going to be ill. One of the Men was now lying on the cardboard. I immediately moved to mount His cock. It took only a few seconds before someone penetrated my ass. The two Men worked me hard as the others watched. A few onlookers shot their cum in my hair. A few more closed in and managed to squirt on my tits. The man in my ass managed to make it to my face. His semen was thick and stuck to my lips. Another cock took His place. The Man underneath was lasting a long time. I wanted to cum, but I felt sick. These were dirty Men. They smelled. The truck smelled. I wanted to cry. My two users dislodged and dumped on my tits.

It began. In twos and threes, the men approached me. Moaning and calling me names, they showered me with cum. Some streams were strong, others dribbled. By the time the last drop landed on my face, I was covered. I can’t tell you how many Men there had been . . . but there was a lot of them.

Master grabbed my arms, jerking me roughly to my feet. He wiped my eyes free of the semen. I saw His smile.

“Time to go, slut,” He said.

I made my way to the doors. With my wrists still tied, I didn’t know how I was going to get down from the truck. No one was going to help me this time. A few Men were standing on the ground watching. Don’t ask me exactly how, but I managed to sit down on the edge and scoot forward till my feet found firm footing. I sort of slithered down to the ground, scraping my back a little as I did.

Master poked me with His bag, moving me in the direction of the bathrooms. I tried to pick my carefully across the asphalt. Master prodded me to the back of the building. I made it to the sidewalk when I was ordered to stop and turn around.

“Look at you,” Master spat. “Letting these Men use you as their cum rag. You’re soiled . . . and you stink.” He walked around behind me. I kept facing forward. A dozen or so Men were still watching. Noises from behind me. Then, Master was standing at the front of the group, a garden hose in His hand.

“Gonna clean up this whore,” He shouted as He pointed the hose at me. The water was cold and made me jump. The stream of water was hard as it hit my skin. He moved close, then backed off. He moved the stream up, then down . . right then left. The water battered my clit and I began moaning. Master moved it away as soon as He realized I might orgasm. As cold as the water was, at least it washing off the disgusting leftovers of tonight’s use. Master came close and held the hose over my head. I shook my head to rid my hair of the cum and the water. Master then wedged the hose in my tied hands pushing the torrent against my cunt. My hips began to rock forward and back. I was fucking the jet of water.

“Master,” I began to beg. “Please. I need to cum. I need to cum bad.”

Laughter, then the water stopped.

Once again . . . no orgasm.

Master untied my wrists, then produced a large towel from His bag. As He led me back to the car, applause sounded behind me. I didn’t turn around. I wanted to be small . . . be away from here.

I climbed in to passenger seat, closing my eyes and letting my head relax against the seat. Master got in the driver’s side. He was silent.

We were halfway home before He spoke.

“Did you enjoy yourself, doll?”

“No, Master.”

“Good.”

More silence.

When we arrived home, I was allowed to have a proper shower. I took my time. Shampooed my hair three times. I even douched twice and gave myself an enema. Anything to help feel clean again.

Master was sitting in His favorite chair, sipping on a Scotch when I entered the room. He pointed to the floor in front of Him and I knelt.

“Tonight, you were put in your place. Shown that you have no value than that of a set of holes to be used. You have been having too much fun . . . been treated too much like a Princess. You are a slut. You are a whore. You are MY slut; MY whore. You did well tonight. I know you have not orgasmed. So, lay down and masturbate for me. When you orgasm, you must squirt for me. You may begin.”

I laid down on the floor spread my exhausted legs as wide as I could and gave Master His show.

And when I finally orgasmed . . I fanned it so it flew all over. I was soaked and spent . . .

Most importantly . . .

Master was pleased.

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