Rising, he pulled me to my feet. His now soft cock, shiny with my spit, dangled in front of him. He pushed me back up onto the desk and tugged my arm.
“Turn around, and bend over.”
“Wait,” I said. “Do you have to?”
“Shut up. I won’t hurt you.”
As I lay on the cold desk, he reached under me and undid my belt, and tugged my shorts down over my ass, and pulled my underwear down, too, until they were both around my knees.
“Look at that ass,” he said, running his hand over my soft skin. “Nice and round. You’re a little peach, aren’t you?”
For emphasis, he gave my backside a slap, and I whimpered.
“Relax, hon. Not going to leave a mark. Hold still for me, okay?”
I heard the scrap of plastic on metal, and felt something cold press against my asshole. I jerked up, shocked as he held me down, one hand on my back, and pressed the tip of something hard, thick, and smooth against the tight knot of flesh. He pulled it back, spat on it, and pushed it inside me. Not very far, he just slipped it into my body, up my ass, and watched me squirm. The camera flashed in the gloom, and I felt the object withdraw. He set his nightstick on desk beside me with a heavy plastic thump, and showed me the picture on his phone screen, of his nightstick up my ass, my cheeks closed around the hard black plastic.
“That doesn’t feel too bad, does it?”
“It feels weird,” I confessed.
“Now that’s hot,” he said, pulling the camera back. “I’d like to fuck your tight little butt, but I forgot my lube.”
I thought for a moment that he would anyway, and tensed up. Instead I could almost feel him sinking down to his knees. His hot breath spread over my pussy, and I realized with a start how wet I was even before he dragged his tongue over the slit. I shuddered and he licked me again, slowly this time, pressing his tongue firmly against me and dragging its warm slickness over my intimate folds.
“Look at you,” he said, his breath tickling me. “Tight as a drum. Carpets match the drapes, I see.”
He licked me again, even harder this time, then opened his mouth against me and pressed his tongue against my entrance, over and over, sliding almost into me before drawing back. He slipped his finger under me and found my clit, tracing lightly over it, making me arch up and clench as I moaned softly, feeling the flush spreading on my neck and chest, the heat building until it started to pop sweat on my back and chest. How could it feel so good?
“You’re my little whore,” he said. “Say it.”
“I’m your little whore,” I croaked, the last word fading into a moan as he tongued me again.
Slowly, he started to work his finger inside me. The feeling of something entering my body was strange, all squirmy and alien. His finger moved inside me, and suddenly drew out.
“You’re tight as hell,” he said, and stood up. “I’m going to undo your handcuffs, now, and you’re going to be a good little girl for me, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Are you ready to take my cock?”
“Tell me how much you need it.”
“I need it. I need your cock.”
I did. I needed it so bad, I would have done anything for him. His fingers and tongue left me in a frenzy, overcome with need.
“Ready to become a woman?”
“Make me a woman, sir.”
He undid the cuffs, and I immediately brought my hands to the desk top and rose up, turning over. He took my arm and pulled me so I rolled onto my back, stepped away, and pulled my panties and shorts all the way off. I felt exposed and snapped my legs shut on instinct, watching him filming me with his phone. He pushed my shirt up, sliding it up over my chest, exposing my breasts, keeping the camera trained on my face as his fingers danced lightly over my skin, almost tickling, watching me squirm.