Shopping [MF] [FF] [bd] [forced orgasm] [Fdom] [ruined orgasm]

The driver turned the van off the busy main boulevard, and down a narrow alley. We were in an upscale part of town, buildings towering over our heads. The buildings were tall, but they weren’t ostentatious skyscrapers. Our employers preferred more reserved, classical displays of wealth.

We pulled up to a rolling door nestled between a loading dock and a private parking garage. Nobody was around, this alley had no storefronts or anything else to attract attention.

The driver rolled down his window, a light on an intercom flicked on automatically. Security must have been watching through cameras. At places like this, they always were.

“Please state your business,” the intercom squawked. Bland and professional and anonymous.

“We’re here for WMI company,” the driver said. WMI was Wilton-Mathers Inc. — the company we worked for, on paper anyway. WMI was not the type of company that you’d ever hear about, and if you researched it you wouldn’t find anything useful, least of all who owned it.

The intercom light turned off, nothing more needing to be said. The door opened, and the driver pulled the van through. We drove down a ramp to an underground road a few stories down. The road ended at a large underground garage, filled with ordinary cars.

I knew this was the staff parking lot for the very exclusive, very private, very old Hudson Bay Company Club. Nobody called The Club by that name, though. The members (and us staff) just called it The Club. The public didn’t call it anything — The Club didn’t advertise, had no media presence (social or otherwise), didn’t participate in the community — it existed anonymously in the city, just another imposing, intimidating, stately building that looked busy, even though you never saw anybody enter.

The reason you never saw anybody enter is because, by some sort of weird Club tradition, and The Club was full of weird traditions, nobody used the front door. Literally, it had not been opened in over a hundred years. Members entered through a small, unmarked ‘Member’s entrance’ on the backside of the building. And staff like us entered underground a block away. Like I said, The Club was exclusive.

A parking attendant directed us to a reserved space, and I asked the driver, “We good?”

“We’re good,” he answered, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“Ok,” I told him, “It may be a little while.” I climbed out of my seat and made my way towards the garage lobby. Glass walled, fine, lush carpet. Dark, wood paneled walls. Shiny brass fixtures. And this was just the staff entrance.

Working this job as long as I have, I notice these things without noticing these things. I mean by this, I am expected to have an eye for quality and taste, while simultaneously being unimpressed by shows of opulence. I think I’m decent at balancing the two, it’s what makes me good at my job, why my employer picked me to carry out today’s specific task.

Entering the lobby, I was greeted by a woman who is impossibly attractive. I have worked for the wealthy long enough to have met many woman who are impossibly attractive, but I have never numbed to the experience. Her beauty distracted me, as it was designed to. But only for a moment.

This woman was probably in her mid-30s, and had retained much of her youthfulness, while learning to exude that sense of savvy professionalism that only comes with experience. She was wearing a business suit, but one that was cut tight enough to hint at her body’s slender curves beneath. Her white button-down shirt was tight around her chest, and cinched down into her waistband. She wore her long, auburn hair in a tight ponytail at the back of her head.

Her makeup was the only hint towards her profession — sexy red lipstick, dark eyeliner, subtle red eyeshadow, and a touch of glossy glitter on her prominent cheekbones. When she smiled at me, even though it was just a friendly greeting, I felt my cock twitch.

“You must be Mr. Smith,” she said.

“Madame de Sade?” I responded. I did not know her real name, and she didn’t know mine either. That’s the world her and I operated in.

“Welcome,” she said, guiding me towards the elevator, pushing the down arrow. “Will today be your first time shopping with us?”

“My employer has made purchases here before,” I said. A short ride down, we arrived at another subtly ornate corridor, all dark wood paneling, softly lit by golden sconces with green glass shades.

“But yes, this is my first time using your services, as his agent or otherwise,” I continued.

We walked through a solid wood door, entered what the sign said was Madame de Sade’s office. She smiled at me, “The experience can be … let’s say, off-putting, if you don’t know what to expect.”

Dark wallpaper lines the walls, interrupted with paintings of landscapes, lit gallery-style. I sat down on a large, studded leather couch opposite a low table. “My employer trusts me,” I said.

The Madame picked up a folder from a traditional oak desk. Her back to me even briefly, I noted her tight pants, the shape of her ass, the hem line of her panties beneath. When she turned I quickly averted my gaze.

She took a seat on a lounge chair across from me, and said, “It’s not about trust, it’s just that attitudes towards sex can be intensely personal. It’s unusual that our clients don’t want to … inspect our products themselves.”

“I believe I understand my employer’s needs,” I told her, then added less sternly, with a hint of a grin, “And I’m trying not to dwell on why he trusts my taste on something so, as you said, personal.”

“Well,” she said, taking out a sheet of papers, “Let’s go over the specifics, then we can go make the selection.”

“They’re here in person?”

“Oh yes,” she said, “our facility is entirely here on site.”

“I see.” I thought about what must be happening, what secrets must be hiding, tucked away behind these ancient walls, mere feet away from unsuspecting, ordinary people.

“You are requesting four of products,” she began, “plus one Domina. Correct?”

“Yes,” I said, “One male, three female, plus the Domina.”

“And you will need them for … how long?”

“At least three months.”

“You can’t be any more specific than that?”

“I was told that we’ll be requiring use of the products for, quote, three months or more. The Domina’s services will be needed sporadically throughout this time.”

The Madame wrote something down on her paper. “Alright, that’s possible,” she said.

“My employer doesn’t believe in ‘impossible,’” I said.

“Of course.” The Madame grinned. Damn, but it was a sexy look. Although, I considered, any look on her would be a sexy look. “Your products will require a handler for this time, as well.”

“That’s not a problem. Our project is adequately funded.”

“Ok, good, we’re all set,” she said, “Let’s go have you select some of our products.” The Madame stood, and I stole a glance at her chest, pushing out against her tight shirt. My mind involuntarily wondered what shade her nipples were, what they tasted like.

She led me down the hall, through a locked set of double doors (still very ornate), down another hall, and through an unlabeled door. We were in a small ante-room, nothing but a small console table against one wall, some bottles and gloves sitting on top of it. The Madame put a glove on one hand, picked one of the bottles up, then went to open the opposite door, leading us onward.

I was curious about those bottles, and asked, “What’s that?”

“Special lotion,” she said, “It’ll makes skin tingle for a few hours. Totally harmless besides that. Works wonders when applied to, ah … certain sensitive parts of the body.” She grinned, held the bottle out, “Here, put a small dab on the back of your hand, you’ll see.”

I held out my hand, she took hold of it. Her skin was so soft, so delicate. The feel of her hand on mine sent tingles down my body without any need for lotion. Then she pinched the nozzle, putting a small drop of the cream on my hand, rubbed it in with her gloved fingers.

Whoa! Tingling was one word for it. It felt on my skin like mints felt in my mouth. A distinctive coolness, inescapable and desirable at the same time. “I see what you mean,” I said.

Imagining what effect this feeling might have elsewhere on my body, plus the Madame’s expectant smile as she watched me react to the cream, I felt my cock start to stiffen. It was growing insistent, ignoring my instructions to stay calm.

“Shall we?” the Madame asked.

Oh we fucking shall, I thought, then realized she meant the door. “Yes, please, after you.”

We walked into a dark room, the only light the dull glow following us in from the ante-chamber. The door closed behind us and it was complete darkness for a second, before the Madame slid up a dimmer switch.

Six rows of six spotlight glows grew slowly brighter around the room, each spotlight revealing one of the Madame’s products, presented on low pedestals: a girl, completely naked, blindfolded, hands bound behind her back and tied to a hoop in the floor, calves wrapped to their thighs, forced into kneeling positions by the ropes.

“These represent some of our finest products, tailored to your specifications, the age range and body types you requested. Each product in addition to being restrained and blindfolded, cannot hear us. They are outfitted with noise-canceling headphones playing a loud white noise.” She surveyed the room. “Effectively, they don’t know anyone is here unless someone touches them.”

I looked at the closest product. Large, perky breasts capped with soft, pink nipples. Long, shimmering blonde hair. Evenly tanned caucasian skin. Zero blemishes. Ideal body. Couldn’t be older than 20 years. They were all like this. How would I ever pick?

The Madame watched me taking all this in. I saw her gaze flicker, just for the tiniest fraction of a second, at my crotch. I was definitely growing a hard-on. She said, “Please take your time making your selection. I want to make sure you’re satisfied. With your choice, I mean.” That tease.

I gave the Madame a look, I don’t even know what look. But she said, “The products are all here by their own free will. There is no shortage of the young and desperate coming to the city, willing to trade a few months of being a product for some pay. Plus, we care for our products well, sending them to beauticians to ensure their most pleasant features are enhanced, their less desirable traits are removed.”

I didn’t want to guess what that last part meant.

She continued, “They also, of course, have extensive behavioral training. You will find them completely compliant.”

My mind started reeling at the possibilities contained in that thought. I had to wrestle myself back to my task at hand. “Ah, yeah, uh … I see that all of the products are … have natural hair, and all that.” Shit, I was slipping. I cannot not lose my cool.

The Madame handled it gracefully, though. “All our products are groomed. You will find them free of hair beyond their head, eyebrows, and eyelashes. However, this is just their base state. We will customize the products per your needs. Hair style and color are the most common requests. But we can also accommodate piercings and tattoos.”

“Tattoos?”

“Stick-on, of course. Real tattoos cause bruising and take too much time to heal.” The Madame smiled.

“Plus, they’d be permanent.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s a concern.”

I set that aside. I needed to stay professional. Focus on the task.

I turned to the product opposite the blonde. This product was also blonde, but platinum. A younger, tightly toned, athletic body. Smaller breasts, but just as pert. A more innocent face, with pronounced cheekbones. It reminded me of the Madame next to me. “How do we know how a product will perform?”

“Ah yes,” the Madame said, expression lighting up. “I almost forgot.” She held out her gloved hand and pinched a dollop of lotion onto two of her gloved fingers. She knelt down in front of the platinum blonde I had been studying. Then, without hesitation, reached with her fingers, sliding them into the blonde’s crotch.

The blonde gasped, body went tense, pulling tight against the ropes, but restrained and unable to resist. I watched as the Madame rubbed the lotion into the blonde’s crotch, from clit down through her pussy, pushing far enough back she must have reached the blonde’s ass. Then the Madame retracted her hand, and stood back up, next to me. She had a wicked grin on her face. “Now just watch,” she instructed, “This should only take a few seconds.”

I could still feel the tingling on the back of my hand, and thought of that as I watched the blonde, transfixed.

Sure enough, with a few seconds the lotion began doing its thing. At first, the product started breathing more heavily. Soon, the breaths were deeper, and its chest started heaving, back arching with each draw, pushing its breasts out.

A moan issued from its mouth. Its body contracted, jerking in a writhing motion. A gasp, followed by another moan. More writhing, back arched, then bent forward doubled up. The ropes were holding, but I could see the product’s strong muscles straining against them.

Soon, every breath was a moan, a desperate, pleading sound. The Madame and I stood side by side, watching as this platinum blonde product arched its back in a final throw, body on full display. A loud, mindless wailing came from its mouth as the lotion’s sensation forced it into orgasm.

“What do you think?” the Madame asked me.

I was rock hard, tenting the front of my pants. “Uh, yes, this one will do,” I said, weakly.

“Do you want more like this?”

“I need, uh…” I tried to make my brain catch up, but was still distracted by the product we just watched orgasm — it was starting to writhe and moan again. “It keeps going?”

“Oh yes. As I said, this lotion’s effect lasts for several hours,” the Madame said matter-of-factly.

My cock stiffened further. “Oh, I, uh, that’s neat.” Get it together. “I need a petite model, too.”

The Madame led us to the far end of the row, each product still kneeling at their spot, oblivious to the orgasms still being forced on one of their own just a few feet away, oblivious to myself and the Madame who were likely to do the same to them.

We stopped, and the Madame pointed to two products, kneeling next to each other. “These two are our most petite models,” she said.

One had thick, vibrant red hair, billowing in waves down over its blindfold. It was young and skinny, with flat, sexy breasts tight against its chest, small red nipples poking into the air. It had pale skin, with freckles throughout, coming all together into a cute face.

The other product was also young and skinny. Asian, with light olive skin, and dark nipples topping small breasts. They looked good on its small frame. Its cute face was framed by straight, dark hair, and wore an expression of innocence.

“How do I know about eye color?” I asked.

“Completely customizable,” the Madame said, “You can pick from any of the standard colors, or we have more exotic options available, such as pink and purple. Red is popular among clients who want something devilish, black among those with darker fantasies. And we can do a full white-out for those who want something truly unusual.”

I noticed then that the Madame’s eye color was bright pink.

“Yep, I’m wearing pink myself,” she said, then pointed back to the products. “What do you think of these two? Does either meet your needs?”

I considered the two, imagined forcing my cock in their mouths. “Let’s see how they perform before deciding,” I said.

“Of course.” The Madame applied lotion to the redhead, then the other. After a few moments, they both were writhing, straining against their bonds. They were unaware of each other, but gasping and moaning in unison as their bodies succumbed to the lotion’s effects. I especially noticed when their backs arched, breasts pushing outward. It was all I could do to not reach out and fondle them, suck on their perfection.

The dark haired product’s expression of innocence had been replaced with one of pure lust. It appeared to be lost in ecstasy, eagerly anticipating its approaching orgasm.

The redhead however, had on its face a look of reluctance, of betrayal. It was fighting against the pleasure, desperate to keep control of its body. It was failing, of course, but the struggle was there.

No matter, they were both equally helpless against the lotion’s ministrations, and together they entered orgasm, one moaning in glee, the other in capitulation.

The dark haired one’s eagerness would never suit my employer. “The redhead, please.”

“Yes, sir,” the Madame said. “One more product from this gallery, I believe?”

“Yes, the last one I need should be buxom or curvy, yet still fit.”

“Our most common request! I have two full rows of that model.” The Madame led the way around the room. As we walked, I heard loud moaning and looked around. The platinum blonde from before was still writhing from the lotion, and had just reached orgasm again. Yes, that product would do nicely.

We came to two facing rows of six products, each of them with large breasts, wide hips, and small waists. Hair and skin of all colors and complexions, breasts of all shapes. I walked up to one product with deep, ebony skin, examining her breasts. They were perfect. I wanted to nuzzle my face in them, slap my cock into them, cum all over them.

Fuck, I thought, I have to stay on task. Be professional. I shifted to try to hide my erection, but it was impossible. The Madame had to have noticed, had to be just politely ignoring my arousal.

I’d been staring at the product without saying anything, so I suppose the Madame took that as her cue to apply the lotion to its crotch. I silently stared, transfixed by the product’s undulations, heavy breaths and deep moans issuing from its mouth. It tensed, body pushing against the restraints with all its might. Its orgasm washed over its face, coaxing out sounds like wailing, intense and guttural.

“Does this one serve?” the Madame asked me.

Fuck, I was breathing heavy myself. “I need to … uh … there’s so many to pick from,” I said.

I turned around, skimming features, was caught by the striking beauty of a brunette with short cropped hair and olive skin. “Let’s see that one,” I said, pointing.

The Madame obliged.

As the brunette product began reacting to the building pleasure in its crotch, I noticed next to it another brunette, this one with pale skin contrasted against dark brown hair. Its face had big, round cheeks, and I felt an overwhelming urge to see it also orgasm. “And this one, too.”

The Madame bent over to rub the lotion between its legs, and I was so caught up in the moaning surrounding me I forgot to check out the Madame’s ass. Fuck I was horny. I had no idea how I would make a logical choice here, I wanted to fuck everything around me. I wanted to put my cock in every hole in this room.

Get it together get it together get it together.

I closed my eyes, imagined an empty grassy field. A naked woman popped into existence on the field, begging me to fuck her.

No no no no no. The field is empty. There’s a breeze, the grass billows in it, the trees shake their leaves. They are fruit trees. The fruit is melons. Huge melons are hanging from the trees. In pairs. They have nipples. I am fucking the melons, my dick sliding back and forth between them.

No no no no no no. The field is empty. There is nothing in it. There —

“Are you ok?” the Madame asked me.

I opened my eyes, looked at her in the least crazy expression I could muster. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks.” Bullshit. But she played it normal.

Just make a selection, I told myself.

The first product, the ebony-skinned one, it was moaning again, just pick that.

I turned around to pick, but my eye caught a product with golden brown hair, skin to match, and huge delicious udders with big pale nipples. I was entranced by my new powers to distribute orgasms. The product sat their proudly, it seemed aware of the power its body had on me. I had to see this one’s resolve buckle.

I pointed. “This one, too.”

The Madame didn’t bat an eye, just got to it. Soon the brown haired product was moaning along with the others, tits swinging wildly as its body convulsed, approaching orgasm. My mouth hung open, I was entranced.

Then I noticed it — tears. It was crying as it came. I was so fucking hard.

The Madame noticed too, “Sorry sir, I thought this product was ready, I will –”

“No, I pick this one.”

“Are you sure, sir? It doesn’t seem ready…” The product was leaning far forward now, tits swinging, body lost in one long, continuous orgasm, tears pouring down its cheeks, leaving trails in its makeup.

“I’m sure. The desperation will please my employer.” Or at least it will please me, holy fuck.

“Very well, then. I believe that’s all the female product you needed?” the Madame asked.

“Yes,” I said, still watching the ongoing orgasm in front of me, “Uh, what do we do now?”

The Madame led me out of the room. I left, reluctantly, lingering to listen to the concert of lustful groans. I glanced at my first two selections, the blonde was still going strong, back arched, face pointed straight up, mouth clamped down in a grimace. The redhead was slowly writhing, looking completely spent, but unable to stop the sensations in its crotch.

“Sir, do you need more time?” the Madame asked, grinning.

I shook my head and followed her through the ante-room, returning the bottle and glove, and back out into the hallway.

The silence of the hallway helped me regain my composure. “Now, the male product?”

“Yes, precisely,” she said. We walked down a ways, approached another door, anonymous as the previous, and went in.

Another ante-room, another bottle. “This one’s more traditional lubricant, it’s silky smooth, but nothing more,” the Madame said.

We went through the inner door, and again lights faded up. Similar to the female products but standing, these were prepared with blindfolds and headphones, hands tied behind their backs. The ten male products stood lined up in a row, a few feet between each.

The Madame looked at her wares, a hint of a hungry gleam in her eye, but unlike me she managed to keep her cool. “Our clients tend to have fewer specific requests when picking male products, so we stock less. But please, I will not be offended if none of these are correct. We can always source more.”

Each had a sizable cock hanging flaccid between their legs, sizable balls behind them. All were bigger than me, I couldn’t help but notice. Their age range was wider than the females, and some had muscular builds and other less so, but they were all athletic and tall. They basically all fit my employer’s request. I guess we really were less picky about males.

I pointed to a blonde-haired less-muscular product, figuring that would be a more submissive model. “Let’s pick that one.”

“Of course, sir,” the Madame said. She lubed up her hands, put a little extra on her finger tips, and sat the bottle down, approaching the product I had indicated.

The Madame grabbed the product’s cock, rubbing in the lube with the other hand, covering the entirety of the shaft and balls. The product gasped at first. Its breaths grew deeper and heavier as the Madame expertly squeezed its balls, stroked its cock.

Under her experienced hands, the product soon was fully erect. With no change in her demeanor, the Madame used an iron grip to jerk the product’s cock. The way she so casually took complete control over this penis had my own starting to twitch again.

After a few more minutes of stroking the product off, the Madame looked at me over her shoulder and said, “You may want to stand aside.”

I moved over, and just in time. The product grunted loudly, then shot rope after thick rope of cum through the room, onto the carpet. The Madame kept jerking its cock until no more was coming, then released. The product nearly collapsed forward, only catching itself at the last moment, and slowly stood back up, doing its best to return to its earlier pose.

“What do you think?” the Madame asked me.

“I think you’re fucking good at that,” I said.

“I mean of the product.”

Shit, stay professional. “Oh, yes, it’ll do.”

The Madame led us back to the ante-room, where she wiped her hands off with a towel, then back to her office. We sat back down in the same spots we had before. “That leaves just the Domina,” she said.

“Yes, the linchpin, ties this whole operation together.”

“I have several available, but I took the liberty of arranging for our first audition the one I thought best met your unique needs. She is also our most requested Domina, and our most expensive.”

“My employer wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said.

“Very well.” The Madame stood and crossed the room to her desk, leaning over to push the intercom. Damn, that ass again! What would it be like to just walk up behind her and shove her pants down… no, keep it together. “Please send in Domina Lucifera,” she said.

‘Lucifera’? Holy shit! What type of Domina is this?

A door in the back of the office opened, and in walked a woman who looked like she could eat me for lunch. Tall, strong, exuding lust. The Madame and her shook hands, what a fucking sexy pair. I wonder if they’ve ever fucked. Lucifera on top, of course, 69ing the Madame, faces buried in each other’s pussies.

Shit, no, stop. I would have had an erection, but my penis was afraid of the Domina.

They approached me and I stood in greeting. Lucifera had vivid red hair, intense red eyes, and was wearing a skin-tight vinyl outfit that covered everything below her neck, but that accentuated her every curve. She wore high heels that made her hips swing as she walked, seducing anyone in range. Her nipples, backed by generous breasts, were prominently poking through the vinyl, pierced with bars, making them gather all the more attention.

She also had a pierced nose, eyebrow, and an industrial in her left ear. She watched my gaze drift over her hardware, and her first words to me were, “I also have a pierced tongue, a ring through my clit, and another ring through my labia.” Her voice was that of a siren, confident and tantalizing and commanding, even when she spoke no command.

I was ready to hire her on the spot. I was ready to cum on the spot, too. Keep it together. “Hello, Domina,” I said.

She turned to the Madame. “This guy’s the client?”

The Madame smirked. “No, he’s staff. His employer is the client.”

“Then why am I here? I only meet with clients.”

I tried to cut in. “My employer trusts me full–”

“Look, I don’t know you, and I don’t want to. I only work for people once I’ve met them. That’s my policy.”

The Madame leaned over, whispered something in the Domina’s ear. The Domina’s expression softened, slightly.

“That changes things. Why didn’t you tell me who his employer was to start with?” the Domina asked. Then she looked at me. “Sit.” It was a command.

I complied.

“Tell me what your employer needs,” she commanded me.

I started, “My employer travels in … certain circles, circles which have grown tired of traditional entertainment and seek … something more–”

“Another rich fuck inspired by ‘Eyes Wide Shut,’ got it.”

“Ok, I’ll drop the dramatics,” I said.

“That would be best.” I ignored the Domina’s breasts. I especially ignored the way the vinyl stretched around her pierced nipples. I ignored the way I imagined they’d feel in my mouth as she abused my cock with her hands and leather toys. No! Keep it together.

“He wants you to entertain himself and sometimes guests with the four products I am selecting here today. He has recently expressed an interest in ruined orgasms for men, and I believe he wants those only for the product, at least at first. The female products are to be used in the standard ways, first on each other, then for the audience. He keeps one to four girlfriends, depending on his mood, and he’ll likely want you to include them in the performance, as well.”

The Domina processed this. “Nothing scat, or morbid?”

“No. He is obsessed with hygiene, everyone must be clean. Also, he does not consume alcohol or use any drugs, other than medication prescribed by his doctor. He does not mind if his guests drink, but he will frown upon drug use.”

“Not an issue. What about accommodations?” Contract negotiation was my specialty, I was able to focus. I was completely ignoring the fact I could see her pussy through her vinyl outfit. I ignored what it would be like to have her sit on my face, forcing me to lick her pussy, forcing me to pleasure her ass with my tongue.

“You will be provided a guest suite on the grounds of the main residence. You will not be required to stay at the suite, but my employer wants you to come with him while he travels, which he does sometimes with little warning. Accordingly, we would request that you clear your social calendar for the duration of the contract.”

“Ok,” she said, “Anything else I need to know?”

I want to soak you in my cum. “He request you bring a strap-on.”

“They all do.”

“Ah,” I said.

The Madame spoke up. “Now, I believe a demonstration is in order?”

“Lead the way,” the Domina answered.

The Madame led us back out of her office, down the hall. The Domina walked beside her, they were chatting quietly about something. I wasn’t even trying to listen, I was studying their asses. One, in tight slacks made of material so thin I could see every flex and release of each muscle. The other, in slick vinyl, sculpting the butt into an impossibly ideal shape. I could have walked behind these two for days.

The Madame stopped in front of another anonymous door, and again, we entered. No ante-chamber, this time just a room, dark except for a single spotlight in the middle, shining onto the still-blindfolded face of one of the male products I hadn’t picked. Its hands were still bound, but now pulled over its head, attached to a chain hanging from above.

A few other chains and bars were nearby, unused for the moment, and there was a small table covered in interesting looking items.

“Shall I begin?” asked the Domina.

“Please,” I said.

The Madame pulled out some folding chairs for her and I, and we watched the Domina approach the product.

She began by removing the blindfold and headphones, tossing them away. The product looked at her.

She looked back, sneering. “Eyes to the ground. You don’t look at me unless I tell you. Nod if you understand.”

The product looked down and nodded.

The Madame leaned over to me, whispered in my ear, “See? Very obedient, right off the bat.”

“Yes,” I whispered back, but all I could think about was how close the Madame’s soft, glistening lips had been to me. Focus, focus.

The Domina now had a ball gag strapped in the product’s mouth, a scarf tied around its ball sack. She was slapping its cock away, acting offended each time the cock swung back harder and stiffer.

“Since you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to use you for my pleasure,” she told it. The Domina grabbed a cock ring off the table, slid it over the product’s cock, and down to the base. It was a snug fit, and was getting snugger with each moment.

I was growing jealous over how much attention the product’s cock was getting from the Domina. Couldn’t she toy with my cock, instead? I was growing hard again, but least here in the darkness nobody could tell.

The Domina was now on her knees before the product, hand on the base of its shaft, slapping its cock into her tits, moaning each time it brushed her nipples. The product was fully erect now, and so was I. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

The Domina stood back up, and removed the product’s hands from the overhead chain. “I need you to hold something for me,” she said.

She bent the product over, and slowly pushed a stubby plug up its ass. The product grunted against the gag.

“That’s good. You just hold that there until I say.” She laid the product down on the ground, face up. Then her fingers slid to a hidden zipper in her vinyl outfit. Once unzipped, she peeled away a small portion of the vinyl around her crotch. Of course the outfit can do that, I thought.

The Domina pulled out the product’s ball gag. “You won’t need that anymore,” she said, then sat down on its face, pussy on its tongue, ass all it could see. “I will need your tongue,” she continued. “Lick it.” It was a command. The product obeyed.

I would have fucking licked it for years. I wanted to lick her thighs, her clit, her pussy, her ass, everything, for ever.

The Domina leaned forward, putting the product’s towering cock right in front of her face. She licked the tip, teased the balls, lightly ran her fingers down the cock’s underside.

My breath was heavy, nearly panting, as I watched, transfixed, imagining the Domina doing the same to my cock.

I felt a hand on my crotch. The Madame! Holy fucking shit.

The hand unzipped my slacks, reached inside and grabbed my dick, first through my boxers, then working it free. Matching pace with the Domina’s teasing of the product’s cock, the Madame’s hand began stroking mine.

The Domina gave the cock another playful slap. The Madame gave me a strong pump. Both the product and I moaned. The Domina ran a single finger again from balls to tip, and the Madame pumped me again.

We could see the product start to tense up, its body preparing for release. The Madame’s hand left my cock, and for a brief second I thought she was going to leave me hanging. Then I felt her lips wrap themselves around my shaft, slide down then back up. Ohmyfuck.

The product’s cock twitched. The Domina gave it one final flick of her finger tip. My cock twitched. The Madame’s lips slid back down, taking me in as far as they could.

The Domina pulled back, right as the product’s cock spurted. The product grunted as its cock was left unattended, forced to spray all on its own. Its cum rained down haphazardly, landing on itself, the ground, and the Domina.

My cock spurted, too, right into the Madame’s mouth, and I grunted. Her tongue tickled my shaft as I dumped load after load into her throat. She sucked and swallowed, expertly taking everything I could give her.

The Domina got up off the product, and walked over to us, looking pleased her with herself. “Did I pass?” she asked.

Then her eyes grew adjusted to the dark, and she saw the Madame kneeling in front of me, wiping my cum off her chin with the back of her hand, my cock laying relieved and spent, hanging out of my pants.

“Oh, I see,” said the Domina.

“Yes, you’re hired,” I managed.

Once we returned to the Madame’s office, it was back to business. The Domina went off to get ready to leave, and other staff were preparing the products for transport. The Madame and I had moved to her desk, and she presented me with a sheet of paper.

The sheet of paper had a number on it, a number several times larger than the cost of my house. Other people may flinch at this. My employer wouldn’t even notice the expense, except for one minor issue. I frowned.

“Is there a problem with this invoice?” the Madame asked.

“Well, it’s about 5% lower than what we were prepared to spend,” I said.

“Ah, let me see how I can fix that,” she answered.

I loved working with professionals with experience handling the ultra-wealthy. For types like my employer, when they told you to spend a certain amount, you spent that amount. There was no such thing as ‘under budget’ — that was just code word for shoddy service. No, my employer decided numbers based on how much value he expected, and spending less would mean he would receive less, which was not what he wanted. The Madame obviously knew this type, and it saved me from trying to explain the apparent contradiction.

The Madame presented me with a new sheet of paper. “If you accept this invoice, Domina Lucifera is now not only our highest paid Domina, but the highest paid Domina in the country.”

“That’s even better,” I said. I signed the sheet. The contract was now complete.

I returned to the van, the Madame in tow, herself leading our four products, unbound, blindfolds and headphones removed, lotions washed off, clothed in simple white outfits. They were now ours and paid for.

I had had them chop short and dye blue the athletic blonde woman’s hair, and gave her ‘tattoos’ across most of her body. I’d also had them pierce her labia, nipples, and nose with rings and studs. I was inspired by the Domina, plus my employer had said he ‘wouldn’t mind one of those anime goth girls.’ I don’t think he knew what either anime or goth were, but the blonde now looked even sexier, so I don’t think he’d have a problem.

The other three I’d left as they were. They got into the passenger seats in the rear of the van, followed by an impossibly attractive strawberry blonde woman in a business suit.

“Let me introduce Madame du Pris,” Madame de Sade said to me, “She’ll be the handler for your products for the duration of your contract.”

“Pleased to meet you,” du Pris said to me. Her smile could melt glaciers.

I shook her hand, “The pleasure’s all mine.”

Madame de Sade said, “The Domina will drive herself. So, you’re all set here.” She winked at me. “Until next time.”

A small smile crept across my face as I waved goodbye. I took my seat, and the driver rolled the van back out the way we came in.

From the front passenger seat, I looked over my shoulder towards the products. “We’ll be at the estate in a couple hours. Then the real fun begins.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/fhluqi/shopping_mf_ff_bd_forced_orgasm_fdom_ruined_orgasm