I walked up to the silvery metal-framed contraption, not exactly knowing what it was. Its construction was of Chromed tubes and bars that glistened in the soft lights.  The frame approximated the figure of an adult, but there was much more to it. There were straps at ankle and waist level, along with various restraints for the thighs and shoulders.  I felt very apprehensive about it’s purpose, but reserved any mention about my hesitancy. She had me walk up to it front wise and place my feet into some sort of holders, which simply consisted of the act of “stepping” into them, and therefore, into “it”. The holders were actually spike heeled Ankle boots permanently fastened to the device. My stockinged foot slid easily in, and I became acutely aware that these holders would literally keep me on my toes, for they felt like ballet boots, stretching my toe joints to their maximum. I felt very little actual weight on my heel.

As I stepped up to the device, my neck fitted up to a semi-circular ring, or collar, that was also permanently fixed to the framework. I could have pulled my upper body back, to remove my neck from contact with the ring, but saw no immediate reason to do so. The core of the ring, while obviously metal, was covered with a plush padded wrap. A set of small diameter holes could be seen around the top of the ring. She wrapped a soft strap about each thigh and pulled them snug to the frame. The front on my legs were pulled into a set of pads that kept my legs straight, and slightly spread. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was obvious that I had lost control of my leg movement. Another soft strap went about my lower torso, slightly above my hips, and another just below my armpits. As she tightened both of these, my body was likewise pulled tight to the frame. 

There were no pads or other obstructions in proximity of my breasts, but there was a curved plate, with two round cut-outs where a larger set of breasts could fit. My chest was forced tightly against this plate. I could feel pressure all about, but aside from my bra, there were no sensations from my breasts.  She left my brassiere in place, my small mounds now protruding firmly out from my chest.

My right hand was raised straight out from my shoulder and pushed into an oddly shaped latex mitten that did not resemble any mitten at all. My right wrist was fastened by soft straps, of a material similar to that used about my thighs and torso, to an extension of the frame. The thumb was separated from the rest of the fingers, which were tightly pressed together and forced into a curve, a position you would use to pick up a round object - like a small cup, with my thumb around the other side - but there was no cup.  As hard as I tried, I could barely manage to bring my fingertips together with my thumb tip to form a perfect circle.  The mitt was rigid enough to prevent me from either closing them too hard or opening them too far. She raised my left hand and fastened it in a similar manner, into a similar latex mitten.

At this point, the only movement I could make of free will was to drop my head backwards, from the collar ring that circled around the front of my neck. As the thought of doing this came into my head, I heard a click on both sides of my head accompanied by a soft pressure on the backside of my neck. I realized that she had snapped on the back half of the ring collar. The ring was positioned at the base of my neck. Even if the rest of my body were free, the strength of the ring prevented my head from similar freedom. She cooed in my ear. I flexed my muscles, testing for free movement, but found none, except for my head, which was still free to swivel about. I was effectively attached to this metallic frame.

She walked from left to right in front of me, eyeing me up and down, with a half smile on her face. It wasn’t a wicked smile or a pretty smile, perhaps more of a smirk. Her look made me appreciate how helpless I was at the moment.  She left my field of view. My curiosity fully aroused, I felt it was time to ask what was next, for it seemed her restraining activities had ceased. I had no sooner opened my mouth when I felt her fingers slide something between my teeth, forcing them open perhaps an inch. I instinctively pushed my tongue forward to explore this invasion of my mouth only to find nothing there; my tongue went right past my teeth and out through my lips! I felt around with my tongue to discover that an insert had been placed to prevent my teeth from coming together. The restraint had a large round opening directly in front, between my upper and lower teeth, and was obviously pliable at the inner circular edges with the force of my tongue. With it in place, anyone could force something past my lips and into my mouth, without my able to bite down on the foreign object or otherwise prevent them from doing so. I could open my jaw further, but not close my teeth closer than maybe an inch or inch and a half.  This restraint did not prevent my lips from closing however; with effort I could bring them all the way together. I could feel tiny rods extend from the sides of the insert outward past the corners of my mouth. My exploring done, I considered opening my mouth as wide as I could to force this thing from my mouth.

Before I could try this, I was distracted by something sliding down over my head. I could not readily tell what it was, but my eyes did catch a glimpse of a thin wire cage-like affair being lowered about my head. The look immediately reminded me of that which encloses a fan blade, a device constructed to prevent one from accidentally touching the blade. She came around to my front, raised her hands to grab this thing on each side and adjust it into position.  Her eyes met mine briefly and she smiled again, this time a knowing smile. She said simply that “this was for my protection”.

She fit the bottom spokes of the cage into the holes in the ring encircling my neck. The wires of the cage must have been spaced closer together behind my head than in front, for I could barely feel but a few over my face. She adjusted here and there by some unseen mechanism, and I could feel the cage-like device come to assume the same shape as my head. The cage-like spoke wires essentially followed every curve and camber on my head. I found that I could no longer push the insert out of my mouth for it was held in place by the two small metal rods that ran out the corners of my mouth, presumably attached to the cage-like affair enshrouding my head. I could bring my jaw closed just enough to swallow, thank goodness, for my mouth had started watering from the presence of the insert. I was appreciative that the material in contact with my teeth was soft and rubbery, causing me no discomfort beyond the fact of keeping my jaw apart.

With her done playing with the device on my head, I experimented moving my head about. Because of the cage and ring’s unique construction, it was still possible to swivel my head, but the ring around my neck, obviously a mechanical affair, only allowed about 15 degrees movement in any direction. My head simply would not go beyond that imposed limit. This seemed odd to me, the whole experience seemed odd to me. I was rigidly strapped to a metallic tubular frame in a sort of spread eagle position, my arms outstretched, hands inserted into some sort of gloves and held in a peculiar position, my head encased in a wire cage, but allowed to move about. I didn’t feel like I was in any danger, at least not in the traditional sense. None of the bindings were particularly tight or uncomfortable. I was however, exposed to any and all, and unable to defend myself against any advance. She came back around to my front and spoke to me.

She informed me that I was to have a most unique experience, one that I would surely enjoy, or so she hoped.  She told me that if I thought what has happened so far was bizarre; the best was yet to come. Instead of trying to describe it, she had to finish “setting me up”. Once the preparations were complete, I would understand. She walked to my side. I could hear metal on metal, and all of a sudden, my body was allowed to pivot about my waist, to bend over forward. As I had come to be in a relaxed state, somewhat limp in the frame, I immediately started to fall forward. My legs were kept vertical by the frame, my feet unmoved in the ballet boots. She caught me as I moved, and lowered me gently until my upper body had dropped about 45 or 50 degrees. A loud CLICK was heard as the frame locked me into this angle. Thankfully, my body rested upon the frame, as I don’t think I could have sustained that angle long unaided. My cock dangled in front of me, free to enlarge if it so desired.

I could raise my head slightly and see her go directly in front of me, sliding open a large door to an adjoining room. The floor level in the next room was significantly higher that the floor I was on, perhaps two feet higher. I could make out that the room was small, perhaps 6 by 8 feet, and decorated like a sitting room; nicely furnished with rich appointments. She went behind me and pushed. I looked down and realized there were two small tracks on the floor, and my frame was slowly riding on them. She pushed me until my head was in the next room, but not much more of me. With movement restricted as it was, I could no longer view what was behind me, or to my side behind my shoulders. I could feel slight air movement signifying she was moving around the room, doing something.

I became aware of a structure of some sort being assembled around the rest of my body. Her activities took several minutes. Something was placed tightly around my waist. I could feel it fastened, but only tightly around my lower waist. Otherwise I would have likened it to a corseted feeling. Several minutes later, I could feel her moving my hand around. A loud click, and my arm was moving freely, although still attached to the frame. Another click, and it was locked into place again in a new position.  Something was placed around my wrist and I could detect significant other activity in that area. A few minutes passed and similar things happened to my left hand and arm.  This already was the most bizarre thing that I had ever experienced, and this still was only the “set up”?

After several minutes of quietness, I saw a side door in front of me open and she walked in. I tried to talk, but unable to operate my teeth, all I could do was create humming noises. She walked to the door between the room that she had slid open initially and moved it back towards closed. Obviously, my shoulder was in the way so she stopped it when it touched my right shoulder. She went to the left and slid another door towards me. This one had a cut-out that allowed it to close and seal with the first door, leaving my shoulders, neck and head sticking through the wall at about her waist high. This must have looked awfully peculiar, this upper bust of a caged head sticking out of the wall in this decorated sitting room. The reason for this became obvious at her next movement.

I could not see earlier what she then brought out from the corner of the room. It looked like a cross between a Mannequin and one of those inflatable love dolls with one notable exception - there was no head. It was flexible, for I noticed she had to squeeze to grab it. She brought it over to me, placing it directly below me, propping it against the wall like some Raggedy Ann doll. It was perfectly sized so that it’s neck came up to where my neck was. I was beginning to understand. As it sat there, I looked at how it was dressed. I recognized the style as one of Victorian times, like the younger women had dressed in the movie Dangerous Liasons. The bosoms were stuffed into and overflowing from a tight satin bodice with a wide flaring skirt. I could see oodles of lace and petticoats peeking from below the low hemline. I was appreciative that the model had large breasts that enticed, nothing like my manly mounds. 

She came back to me, and started pulling a rubbery latex headpiece down over the cage like spokes on my head. She had to work it carefully, for it was very tight. I could do very little but try to keep my head still, to assist her in this most difficult task. After she made it past my ears (my ears even fit into it’s ears!) it went easier. The piece came down around my cheeks and chin, around my neck, and down around the ring collar around my neck. She spent several minutes working around my neck, pulling here, poking there, fastening this and that. When she was finally finished, she stood back for a long moment and stared. I moved my head around and upwards, straining to see the look on her face, but I could not draw my head back far enough to see above her breast level.

She backed off across the room, to a wall table, and grabbed a hairbrush from it. As she turned and came back to me, I could make out her face, a look of determination across it. I could see much was on her mind. She came to me and began brushing my new long hair. I could see wisps of it fly past my eyes as my head was pulled back and forth. My head could only move so far before the ring collar prevented it from moving further. It would come to an abrupt stop when maximum travel was reached. Her brushing done, she went back to the table and grabbed a hand mirror. At last, she gave me a view of myself. My first since this predicament began.

She had to hold it for me, since my hands were somewhere on the other side of the wall, doing who knows what. I looked, and marvelled. It was me, at least my consciousness. What I saw was not me. What I saw was a rather striking young woman, dressed as I had described earlier, Victorian era, sitting on the floor of a nicely appointed sitting room. I appeared to be simply sitting there against the wall. I could move my head slightly about.  The angle that I was protruding through the wall matched rather well with this sitting body. As long as my head didn’t move too far in any direction - and it couldn’t - there was the perfect illusion of a young woman sitting, waiting, with her head bowed. My head was joined to the body in such a way that was not discernable without very close inspection. Anyone entering this room would see the young woman and could take advantage of her willing waiting mouth, which was really my mouth. At this point, I couldn’t see any way I could stop them. My teeth were forced open, unable to prevent entry, while my lips were pursed in anticipation.

She knelt down beside me and spoke. She told me that my rear end was outfitted similarly, and showed me a Polaroid she has just taken. I looked aghast at the image. At first I couldn’t believe it was me, but taking into account the transformation I had witnessed to my head, my mind fit the pieces together to believe what was in the picture. I saw the backside of a woman, mostly naked except for an extremely tight corset, standing with her arms stretched up to either side of her head then fastened to rings on the wall, her forehead tipped towards the wall. A wooden bench with large velvety pillows on it was in front of her at pelvic level forcing her to bend forward over it as her hands were secured tightly high against the wall. She had on a garter belt that I recognized as the one I was wearing, with tight stockings in tippy toe boots. The bench was exactly where the cleverly disguised tubular frame really was. The ass and legs were mine, but the upper torso, head and arms belonged to a mannequin, the joint between me and it was secreted under the corset. I could see the straps around my ankles and upper thighs, now apparently attached to the mock bench. Obviously the plot here was that any perpetrator could come up to my backside and invade my ass, receiving a real ass from the body of a doll. I made a babble sound of protest. I also hadn’t found out what happened to my hands yet.

She took my question and flipped to two other pictures.  Again I could not believe my eyes. The pictures were similar in composition. In each picture was a woman, or reasonable facsimile. One was kneeling, dressed in a classic tweed suit, knee length skirt, champaign blouse with ruffly neck and suit jacket matching the skirt. She was wearing pearls and had every look of success. Her head was pitched slightly forward. The other picture was a classic New Orleans hooker, overly glitzed and whorishly dressed. She was also kneeling, but I had not yet made the connection between them and me. I was told that the latex “mitten” I wore really was inside each doll’s head. My hands formed round receptacles ready to milk any man that needed the servicing. I looked closely and saw how the dolls were positioned. Each was in the corner of a room and had their back to a chair or pillow that concealed my arm.

So that was it, I was to be a 4-station fuck machine.  As the reality of my predicament set in, I barely listened to the rest of her words. All that I remembered was that the “ass” users would be provided with KY jelly on the table next to me so as to not cause too much pain since they were told I was a “virgin”. As she was telling me this, I realized I could already feel light stroking moving up and down my buttocks. I remained still (as if I could move much!) while the strokes gained in force. A little fondling around my anus hole preceded a feeling that I became very familiar with in the hours that followed. A cock was entering me, slowly. The slight pain of penetration was followed by a constant force that seemed to take forever to fully enter me. The unknown cock paused, and then slowly began drawing out. He would draw back until the head was just about to pop out, then push back in. He made long slow sensuous strokes. I silently thanked him for being gentle. 

His movements continued as I felt his hands come around my hipbones and grab me. He used my hipbones as handles, controlling the in and out motion. My ass felt oozy as I realized it was the lubricant assisting my butt fucker. I mumbled some sounds and she told me that at any time I would feel someone behind me. I had news for her! I already did! I made more mumbles containing obvious pleasure. She paused, realizing what I was feeling, and then whispered that she hoped I was enjoying my ass fuck. She stood and finished tidying the room, only glancing at me occasionally with a flirtatious smirk. I felt action at my left hand. A back and forth movement was happening and I realized I was milking some guys cock. My pulse, already increased from the servicing I was receiving at my ass, caused me to gently squeeze my left hand to add to his pleasure. Perhaps it was a release of energy from the fucking I was undergoing. She took one last look at me from the door. I looked at her wide-eyed, pleading, a cock in my ass and another in my left hand. She smiled, blew me a kiss and disappeared.

I sat / stood / laid there. I enjoyed the slow rhythmic stroking of the cock making friends with my rear.  The sensations were much more pleasurable than I ever would have believed. The person availing himself in my left hand was pounding the poor dolls head in a non-stop frenzy. I tried to match my contractions to his pumps, but his furious lovemaking was hard to follow. I squirmed my ass and tried to wiggle the best I could to get the most out of my rear-end lover. Thoughts of him made me forget the scenario before my eyes, until I saw the side door open.

In came a man, well dressed, wearing a dark pin stripe suit. I did not move my head to see his face. I remembered her final words as she left. She told me that none of my “customers” tonight knew that there really was a person inside the dolls. As far as they were concerned, these were life-like mannequins with special features to accentuate the experience of sex. To this end, I did not move my head, but tried to observe his motion with my eyes. He removed his shoes, leaving them neatly under the bench against the right side of the room. He dropped his pants to the floor and laid them carefully on the bench. I then saw him turn and observe me, and my apparent situation.

All he saw a young woman in a period costume. Bulging breasts begged to spill from the top of a satin bodice.  Puffy sleeves delicately caressed milky skin while large furls of skirt and petticoat mountained about feminine legs and could hide forbidden delights. He reached and stroked my hair. The back of his hand brushed by my cheeks. I could barely feel the rubbing through the latex of my head piece.  It took every bit of restraint to avoid making any noises with all the action occurring to other parts of my body. I was positioned sufficiently high to accept him with him still standing. It didn’t take him long to pull his manhood from his underwear. He grasped it causing an instant erection. As I was being thrust from behind, I was all ready for something, anything. He straddled my (my?) legs and moved towards me. For all purposes, they were my legs, my breasts, my petticoats he gingerly stepped around. He moved the tip of the head to the dolls lips, my lips. 

As I breathed in I could smell the muskiness of his cock, trapped in his underwear all day. He was hard enough to push in, and did so, gently, not knowing what to expect. I held my tongue against the floor of my mouth. I didn’t want to scare him off. With the heat I was in from my behind, I could have bitten off his cock; anxious to release some energy had my jaw restraint let me. His cock entered my warm moist mouth.  I could feel it make its way past my lips, through the hole in my jaw restraint. He pushed it straight in. I brought my mouth to close around it, to give some sensation of tightness. As I felt the tip at the back of my throat, he strained the hole in my jaw restraint to its limit. He let out a slight sigh, mumbled something about how amazingly realistic it felt, grabbed both sides of my head with surprising strength and started pumping slowly. Withing 20 strokes he began increasing tempo. The hoop earrings in my ears rocked frontward and back, banging against my cheeks.  I opened my mouth slightly more. I could do nothing more but allow him to fuck away at my mouth.

I began to understand why my head was allowed limited movement. He pumped into me, moving my head forward and backward in a matching rhythm. The ring collar prevented him from moving my head too far, to stress my neck and possibly hurt me. This way, he can fuck me as hard as he wants. He gets a realistic blow job (more than he realised!) and be as forceful as he wants. As he began fast pumping my eager mouth, I suddenly realised I was also milking someone else with my right hand. A brief thought flew across my mind. I wasn’t sure which hand was the whore and which was the prim and proper businesslady.

At this moment I was simultaneously having sex with four different people. Presumably not one of them knew about the others. Each was within feet of the others, separated by walls in their own little room, with me literally at the Centre of attention. My butt-fucking lover kept up his slow but substantial ministrations, my left hand was still furiously being pumped, my right was receiving slower action but more forceful, and my mouth was filled with some businessman’s cock. The person behind believed that he was ass-fucking some tight corseted whore strung up by her arms. My hand-job lovers believed they were mouth fucking their respective love dolls, and the guy in front of me is thinking he’s giving a Victorian era harlot his special load. I felt warmness in my rectum, and the rear-end strokes slowed. I felt him pop out of my ass leaving a strange feeling behind. I wanted him to re-enter me, to fill me.  Instead, he released my hips, and that was the last I felt of him. At about the same time, my left hand fell still.  Evidently this person’s stamina ran out. I don’t know how he kept it up as long as he did. I kept squeezing the cock in my right hand, masturbating to the best of my limited ability. After a few minutes, I felt hands and a towel wiping off my ass. Was it my lover? Probably not, someone probably preparing me for the next one. I concentrated on the cock in my mouth. I began to give small tongue massages as he pumped me. My right hand lover stopped also. He didn’t last long! The cock in my mouth increased in speed again. I felt he would come at any time. The next cock entered my ass. This one didn’t feel as big, but he jumped in with a fury. No gentle rocker this one, I could tell he wanted to wham bam and thank me ma’am.

I could taste saltiness in my mouth; I knew the inevitable was near. As his thrusting became incredibly pronounced, I felt warm spurts at the back of my mouth.  Knowing my only option was to take it, I swallowed quickly, not even thinking of what I was doing. I milked him for all I could. After all I had been through, his cum tasted good, almost a relief. The guy behind continued to pump the shackled corseted whore in the ass like it was his last fuck; unaware this little whore really just received a delicious present down his throat. I was glad my chocolate cherry had been broken by Mr. Gentle before this speed freak got to me. The guy in my mouth slowed and shrunk. I pressed my lips together tightly, to seal his juices in me and give him a little going away present when he popped out of my mouth. He withdrew and released my head, which I let drop, like it should have. I felt a new customer start working on my right hand, with slow deliberate pumps. I watched the businessman put on his pants and shoes while my ass was worked like some common whore’s. He stood next to the door for a moment; I guessed there was a mirror there, then left the room. I mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and ran my tongue over my lips to clean up for number 2.

While I squeezed the cock in my right hand, I again felt warmth in my ass as I took another load in my rectum.  This customer didn’t wait around, but made a hasty retreat. I suppose one could think of this as the ultimate fantasy.  It is one thing to daydream about being a woman and being made love to as a woman, but being four women at once! I could do little but to enjoy it, and service my lovers the best I could. After all, I was strapped in and forced to be the vehicle.

It had been several minutes since the businessman had left. My ass was still smarting from the two invasions I had endured. My right hand was feeling fatigued from the relatively large effort it took to milk the cock I was somewhat grabbing. I heard a click and the side door again opened. I watched a man stroll in. Again I could not see his face, but could easily see the dress, causing my eyes to widen. He was wearing chicly faded black jeans, an unzipped black leather motorcycle jacket with a wide shiny zipper up the middle, straps hanging from various parts and other zippers sprinkled across other parts, a black tee shirt with some rock group’s insignia emblazoned in the centre, and black motorcycle boots that shone in the dim light of the room. I could see him walk to the centre of the room, facing me, apparently eyeing me and sizing up my situation. Again feelings swept through me, as I became the part of the scene in which I sat. I was a Victorian harlot slumped against the wall, my dress slightly wrinkled as I had just serviced a gentleman’s fine cock for a smile. I wished I could reach and smooth my skirt and straighten my bodice, perhaps pressing together the bulging of the two creamy bosoms, my two areolas barely peeking from the lace edging of the scooped neck. My waist constricted to a breath taking size serving only to connect my enhanced feminine hips to my desirable overflowing breasts. I noticed an inordinate amount of arm hair escaping from the sleeve of his jacket.  My earlier feeling of enthusiasm turned to dread as I suddenly realized what he was there for. At the moment, I did not have a love pole ramming home a message of desire at my tail end as I had before. My arm and torso muscles instinctively contracted as I involuntarily felt a keen need to escape from the tubular frame.

My fruitless efforts at escape lasted but a few seconds before he walked to me. I tried to pull back but of course could go nowhere. He put his ape hand under my chin and lifted to view my face. Afraid of giving a clue that I was indeed human, I froze my eyes still and looked straight ahead as he lifted. In my periphery vision I could see a clean-shaven rather handsome face, young, perhaps late twenties. My nose caught a slight scent of cigarette and Old Spice. He looked me over for what seemed like an hour but was actually fifteen seconds. I would like to think he found me attractive, although, on the outside I only looked like a love doll. He lowered my head till it stopped, put both hands to his wide black belt, and undid the buckle. He folded back the top corners of his jeans to expose his white Jockey underwear and pulled his already stiff cock through the fly. By now I caught the unmistakable musky smell of pent up cock. I braced myself for the inevitable, trying to run visions through my mind to “put me in the mood”. He wiped the head across my latex lips a few times, then pulled back slightly and with his right hand holding it like you would grab a hammer, pointed it straight towards my pliant doors. He placed his left palm squarely across the back of by head, grabbing some of my hair between his thumb and forefinger. With control over my head, he angled my head back until my face was vertical to the floor, perpendicular to his rod. I looked down my nose at the immense length of his shaft as he edged the head to my lips, breaking them apart with a slight twitch of the domed end. Again, I dropped my tongue to the bottom of my mouth. With his left hand as a backstop, he smoothly and swiftly slid into me and found the back of my mouth as an arrow finds its target.

Unfortunately, his arrow was longer than my mouth was deep. The curvature of the back of my mouth guided him well into the opening of my throat. His left hand had firm control for I’m sure I flinched at this, involuntarily recoiling, what little I could move. He seemed not to notice. He withdrew after a pause until the ridge of his head was at my lips. I was dazed by the suddenness of having his manhood forced down my throat. I had almost gagged but had caught myself from making any verbal noises. I resolved with urgency to relax my muscles as much as possible to let him have his way, to accept him as far as he could push, to not reveal that I was real. He again moved towards the back of my throat, his long cock moving like a freight train in the night. Again he hit the back of my mouth and was guided down my throat. This time I was prepared as he slid to a stop at full bore. He paused again and let out a gasp. I had turned him on! This man in leather was getting off on my mouth! This time, although ready, it was still difficult to keep composure. I just wasn’t used to giving deep throat. As he withdrew to my lips, I felt two hands spread my ass cheeks wide and the ridges of a lubed up head of an unknown cock pop inside my ass hole. As the man in leather again pushed his arrow to the target down my throat, another rod took a forceful journey up the avenue of my ass. The one in my mouth had already stopped in my throat as the one behind kept coming. Maybe I was preoccupied with longness at the moment, but it seemed that this one travelled allot further into me than the previous two had. It felt like it was going to bump into the one down my throat before I finally felt his body bump my buttocks. They both began to withdraw together and both ram together. I wondered briefly at the unlikely probability of two men in separate rooms pumping a mouth and an ass in synchronization. Some brain cells on the side of my head took notice that the guy in my right hand was done and had withdrawn. I let my hand go limp.

They stayed in synch for at least 30 strokes. I had lost count. In fact, the intensity of being had by extra long rods in both ends put me into a delirium. I resigned myself that I was powerless to do much about the invasions I was undergoing. I let the man in leather have my throat to his liking. Whenever he paused at full stroke, my nose was forced into his leather jacket. I drew in overwhelming scents of fresh leather that drove my olfactory system into overload. If I had ever been in euphoria, this was it.

The man in my ass kept his strokes long and smooth. He always took me to full length. I marvelled at both of their staying abilities considering the sensuousness they were experiencing, longer than I could have ever gone without cumming. The ramming of these rods seemed to go on forever.  The man in leather finally gave three short strokes, all in my throat, and held me tight, never releasing the back of my head from when he started his campaign. The head of his cock stayed down as far as he could push. I could feel cum running down my throat as I held my breath for dear life. I could feel the waves pulse along the bottom of his shaft with my tongue as I stroked it inward, helping him empty into me. All the while, long steady strokes pumped at my back end. I lay there, a willing receptacle for his cum, pleased that I had survived and, yes, even enjoyed this man in leather.

As he withdrew, I all of a sudden realised that both hands were busy holding cocks and I was instinctively milking them. The man in leather pulled the head of his cock from my lips and held it about a foot from my face. I eyed it, watching a few drips of cum drip onto the skirt of my satin dress. He stuffed it back into his underwear and let my head drop. I watched him walk across the room, zip his jeans and fasten his wide belt with an easy motion. His boots clunked as he walked to the door and stepped out.

I gasped for air several times in disbelief of what I had just been through. I swallowed hard several times to flush his cum down my throat, although I never tasted much of it in my mouth. The man in back quickened his pumping and, grabbing my hips as his thrust handles, came to orgasm banging my buttocks hard like I was being spanked on both cheeks at once. I felt like my body would split in half as his rocket left the launching pad and carve a path through me, exiting somewhere from my head. I constricted my ass and hands in unison several times and, as the man in my rear injected me with his milky juices, let go with an ethereal howl as I reached the closest I could come to my own orgasm.  I rocked hard back and forth into his pole, even though I don’t think I physically moved. I gave my hands a few final squeezes, hoping to bring off the guys lucky enough to be in my clutches.

My whole body fell limp, my muscles exhausted, as I lay breathing hard. I noticed the man behind me pull out and a towel wipe me clean. I felt nothing at my hands and figured the cocks were done and gone. With no external stimuli, I drifted into a dazed, post-orgasmic stupor.

After several minutes of idleness I heard the door open but did not bother to even raise my eyes to watch whoever entered. Soon I saw two legs come into view. They were nylon clad and the feet were in serviceable heels. Their appearance seemed familiar and I vaguely recognized them as belonging to the woman that had fastened me into this multi-port fuck frame. I just wanted to lay and rest. I could feel her fumbling with something around my neck, reaching under the false face. After a half a minute, she raised the chin portion of my doll head and pulled the restraint out of my mouth. She gently let my mouth close and reattached the doll skin to me. I mumbled an unintelligible sound of appreciation as she walked to the door and disappeared. I slowly moved my jaw around, regaining the pleasant feel of being able to control it once again. My stupor continued.

Lying spent, I felt another cock enter my behind and I began to service another ass screw, as I lay emotionless and unresponsive. I did not notice the door open until I saw a pair of business wingtips and dark grey pinstriping adorning some legs come towards me. I did not have any time or desire to respond before the palm of a hand under my chin raised my Head. I looked down the shaft of a man’s cock and watched it Enter my mouth. With the mouth restraint gone, I could have refused entry, but did not. I was tired and spent. They used me as I lay as lifeless as the love doll itself, becoming nothing more than a love doll myself. Since the frame propped me and held me in position, it took no effort on my Part to allow the men to enter me and use me. I felt at one with the latex, corsetry and satin that enclosed me. They Pumped for a while, and shot me full of their sperm. I allowed it to flow down my throat and up my ass. I liked servicing them with my mouth much more without the mouth Restraint in. I formed a perfect circle with my lips to mimic the shape of the orifice. At times I felt cocks in my Hands, but still I let them do all the work.

Several cocks came, and several cocks went. I allowed them me as they wanted. Occasionally I would tongue one, or Squeeze my anus, but generally I lay still as I was fucked.  After all, I was nothing more than a love doll, provided for Use by any man that desired me.

10.10.07