Wendy was a working woman. She was successful, if you measure success by salary. She worked for Mr. Smith, a multi-millionaire. Could you describe Wendy’s job as a “secretary”? No, not really. It was kind of odd; a job to fit Mr. Smith’s tastes as a man.
Wendy parked in front of Mr. Smith’s private estate: a sprawling mansion. A valet took her keys. What kind of house has a private valet? Well, he was a butler, but what’s the difference at that point? Wendy always found the thought of her five-year-old Honda being parked alongside new Teslas and Lamborghinis amusing. She walked into the mansion, greeted by the servants. No one in that personal palace, save for Mr. Smith, knew her job. At least, she thought no one did. They surely didn’t act like they knew what she did in that back room.
Mr. Smith, tall and elegant, walked down the swept-out steps of the entrance hall. He welcomed Wendy with a charming smile. “Shall we get to it, then?” he said nonchalantly, opening the door under the stairway. Wendy nodded, grimacing, and stepped into that dark closet-like room with only the pale light of a widescreen monitor illuminating it.
Temporarily, Mr. Smith turned on the overhead lights, revealing a rather comfortable chair, much like the ones professional gamers used. Wendy sat down on it as Mr. Smith quickly shut the door behind them. He walked over to Wendy, strapping her legs down to ad-hoc leg rests loosely attached to the seat. There were straps on the arm rests, but her arms remained free for now. Wendy pulled off her dress, revealing there was nothing on underneath. Naked, she was obediently strapped down to the chair completely, head included. There were even loose fingers over her eyelids. She was able to blink, but the set up looked like it could force her eyes open at any time. Mr. Smith raised a contraption from the floor, putting a bulb on Wendy’s clit and a rod in her tight cunt. Then, he turned out the lights and hit play on the video player on the monitor in front of Wendy. Hardcore porn started playing, volume at a level where Wendy could hear it clearly but where it wouldn’t leak outside the room. The bulb started vibrating; the rod started sliding in and out, excreting some lubricant to start. The porn, degrading, misogynistic porn, kept Wendy’s attention. Mr. Smith exited the room.
Wendy was a professional gooner. She was paid to goon for Mr. Smith, 8 hours a day. Her pay rate? That was complicated. She started at minimum wage ($15 an hour in her progressive state) and increased by $1 an hour for every day she didn’t cum. Of course, her body had been implanted with state-of-the-art sensors to ensure she didn’t cum off the job, either. The machine on Wendy’s cunt used the sensors to stop just before she went over the edge; however, she was not given time to calm down: a little bit after the danger passes, the machine would relentlessly startup again. A button was within reach of Wendy that would make the machine bring her to orgasm, alerting Mr. Smith. The work day was done if she decided to orgasm. No more hours counted that day, and the next day started over at $15 an hour. For every orgasm she had after that and before the next shift, her pay raise was delayed a day. She worked 7 days a week, no holidays off. She was free to leave at any time, but this gig was too sweet to ditch. This particular day was her 33rd on the job: she had cum the third day, but not since then.
Wendy watched the big-titted woman on the porn getting railed, feeling down about her own average-sized breasts. Her pussy’s folds were spread open by the machine, but that was hidden by the bulb. She moaned, sensitive. Only eight more hours of this.
Wendy looked over at the camera. It wasn’t needed since there were sensors around her utereus, but they were there anyways. Was she making Mr. Smith insane money by live streaming? Was Mr. Smith using her as personal porn, having an editor keep the best bits? Was the camera even recording? Wendy didn’t know and didn’t care. All she cared about was not cumming.
Wendy softly moaned watching the women on the screen get slapped. She had developed many degrading fetishes on this job. It wasn’t her fault. Any girl would become depraved under the same circumstances. She was sensitive today, as she had been for a month. Her mind was fuzzier than usual today. It had only been about ten minutes when she felt it welling up. God, the worst part was about to begin. Closer, closer, closer. She was almost there. Then, the machine stopped. The porn paused.
She breathed heavily, trying to calm down. One, two… threee. She had barely calmed when the machine started again. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Wendy was already breaking. She might have been already broken. Mr. Smith really was relentless. His engineers that made this torture device were relentless. Wendy got closer and closer until the machine switched off again.
More vibration. More shrieking in the sound-proofed room. She tried to close her eyes to the choking happening on the video; she tried to escape some of the stimulation. The arms on her eyelids snapped open, forcing her to watch. This might be what the camera is for. At least one of its uses. She saw the button in her periphery. She could press it but… she needed the money, badly, after so much debt… Wendy soldiered on.
It was six hours into the shift. Six hours into the edge. Two streams of drool dripped down the front of her body. Her vagina convulsed and clinched again and again. Her nipples could cut glass. Wanna cum… wanna cum… wanna cum…
Mr. Smith returned exactly eight hours later. He found Wendy as he usually did, twitching, mind gone. She was moaning and slightly laughing. He asked the question he always did. “Do you want to extend to a 24 hour shift? I’d have to cut your pay down to zero an hour for the overhead, though.” Wendy laughed as the machine finally let her calm down. “Ye-ye-no. No I won’t.” The light turned on, and a maid, the only one that knew of this job besides Mr. Smith, as far as Wendy was aware, came in to help Wendy clean up.
Three days later, she still hadn’t cum. She accepted his offer then.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/rrs1i1/f_gooning_inc_bondage_orgasm_denial