Building up the nerve to get out of your Buick hadn’t gotten any easier in the last six months. You looked in the rear-view mirror for the third time and put your hand on the door handle. As far as you could tell, nobody had followed you into the lot in the last twenty minutes you'd been sitting parked with the engine off. It was 8:57PM on a Saturday night and the last thing you needed was to be identified walking into the "clinic". With one last nervous sigh, you forced yourself out of the car. You locked it, but you didn’t turn on the alarm for fear that the quick beep would draw the attention of someone you knew, sealing your fate. You made a bee-line for of the Starbucks next door, but at the last second you pivoted left and walked towards the non-descript door of the “Breaking Boundaries Stress Clinic”. If anyone had seen you, you might be able to pass it off as an unlikely, late-night, mid-weekend counseling program. They might believe you when you say that it’s to cope with the stress of your job, but any real research into the “clinic” would reveal the true, perverse nature of your evening. With one last peek over your shoulder, you pushed through the door and into the darkened lobby. The room was styled like any modern clinic lobby, except that there was a smoky haze and minimal lighting to help assure patient privacy. The light musical notes of an Asian string instrument echoed from well-hidden speakers. A young woman took your coat off your shoulders and placed it on a hook as usual.
“Welcome back Mr. Boyd.”
“Thank you, Allison. Are classes still going well this semester?”
“Yes, thank you. If you go talk to Tanya, I think she said that Johanna is getting ready for you now.”
She knew you wanted to get to your session, so she didn’t keep you with small-talk.
“Perfect, thank you.”
Allison had been working here for the last six months and every time you walked in, she had been just as professional and courteous as the last. Her tall, thin body looked elegant in the black, V-neck dress that was clinic-standard. She went to college in the area and needed an extra source of income to fund her non-academic excursions. Why she chose to spend her Saturday night’s doing this, you couldn’t figure out.
You walked across the dim lobby to Tanya’s desk. A gorgeous black woman in the same black dress looked up at you with a brilliant smile. After a flurry of clicks on the keyboard and the press of button on her ear-piece, she spoke at you, but not to you.
“Your nine o’clock is here, Johanna.”
A moment’s pause and a few keystrokes later she addressed you.
“She’s ready for you, Mr. Boyd. Door number twelve, as usual.”
“Thank you, Tanya.”
You turned to the right and looked down the hallway. The hall was 30 yards long, with a pair of opposing red doors every fifteen feet. Each frame was illuminated by the orange glow of industrial looking ceiling lamps. The building was deceptively small from the outside, because each of these rooms was quite large, allowing them to house all manner of… Equipment. You passed a shadowy figure waiting in a chair to your left. Courtesy dictated that you respectfully ignore their presence and avoid even looking in his or her direction. Your shadow rippled across the wall in arcs as you passed under the lights. The sound of your dress shoes on the hardwood floor died out as you traveled further down the hallway, casualty to the noise-dampening material that lined the walls. In all your visits, not once had you heard a sound from one of the closed rooms. You approached the red door with the metal numbers ‘12’ in the center, just below the peephole. You pressed the illuminated button of the bell and waited. Looking back down the hallway, Tanya’s desk looked miles away, and in the darkened haze you couldn’t even confidently discern if she was behind it. Gazing back to your doorway, the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, and a warm numbness filled your legs. Even after so many visits, your nerves tried to get the better of you.
A shadow passed by the faintly glowing peep hole, and a moment later the door creaked open. You almost stumbled as you forced your lead feet into the room. You were momentarily blinded by the white light that reflected off every surface. The white tiled walls and floor threw the light into every corner of the room. The only shapes that stood out were the studded black leather bench in the corner, and the woman who had let you enter.
Johanna stood over six feet tall, wrapped in a gray bathrobe. Her magenta lips and chocolate locks contrasted with her pale skin. Though she was thin, she had wonderful curves, her bust and hips still made an hourglass profile through the heavy fabric of the robe. She pursed her lips and looked you up and down. With a smirk, she addressed you.
“Well dressed as always, Mr. Boyd. You didn’t specify hawk or dove over the phone when Tanya confirmed our appointment. I have the equipment for either request on hand, I’ll just need a moment to prepare. Have you made a decision?”
You had felt like a “dove” all day. Being nervous all morning and afternoon, travelling here with your face hidden, and constantly peering over your shoulder like a prey animal had done that to you. However, something caught your eye as you looked over your host. Beyond the sleeves of the robe, you could see that her hands wore transparent latex gloves with metallic blue frills at their cuffs. Looking below the lower edge of the gray cloth, you could see the same clear latex wrapped around her thighs, calves, and feet. Her rubbery toes disappeared into the gleaming blue stilettos that gave Johanna such a commanding presence. She was hiding her kinky garb from you. A part of you knew that she had just thrown it on to walk down the hall from the changing area, but now you wanted to expose her secrets. Your heart jumped to life as you imagined forcing your will upon this fetish queen and giving her the same treatment that she had given you so many times previous.
“I feel like a hawk today, Johanna.”
Her eyes widened a little as her smirk became a little less brazen. It was a nearly imperceptible change in attitude, but it made every bit the difference in the upcoming session.
“Very well, Mr. Boyd. Shall I help you strip?”
“You first Johanna.”
Without breaking eye contact, she undid the knot on the front of the robe. As she opened it, she shrugged the modest article off her shoulders, and the mass unceremoniously fell to the floor. In its place, Johanna’s body filled a transparent blue latex maid’s uniform. Black rubber frills adorned the edges of the short sleeves and deep neckline, while her imprisoned breasts spilled over the top of a glossy black corset. The light glinted off the meticulously polished steel busk, and the hinge traced a line from her cleavage to the latex skirt that draped her hips. If you had felt like a “dove” today, she would have taken a powerful stance: hands on her hips and her weight centered between two feet set firmly apart, with her back straight, despite her bound midsection. Her head would have been tilted back just enough to peer down her nose at you in contempt. Instead, you were in charge, so she placed on hand across the corset as her other partially covered her impressive cleavage in an attempt at modesty. Her weight was on one dainty foot and her knees were pressed together. Her tilted head and expectant pout showed it: she was taking the submissive role today. Still, she made sure to articulate one last point before becoming your play-thing.
“Red is our safe-word. Saying yellow, orange, or green will indicate whether to decrease intensity, remain at the current level of intensity, or increase intensity as desired at and between status checks. Now, shall I help you out of your clothes now, Mr. Boyd?”
You furrowed your brow at her as she realized her error. You corrected her.
“No, I will remain clothed until I tell you to do otherwise. Now, open the chest, Johanna.”
“Yes, Mr. Boyd.”
Her heals clicked on the tile as she turned around and bent to open the bench to reveal a box of “toys”. Her round buttocks lifted the frills of the skirt high enough to get a peek underneath. You followed the fake, printed seam of the rubber pantyhose from her heel, up her leg to the gap between her thighs. The latex panties that cradled her mound glistened from the shadow. You were half-tempted to walk over right now, pull out your cock, tear away the thin elastic barrier, and fuck her right there. A deep breath calmed you down, but only a little. She stood back up and turned around. She walks towards you, her hands outstretched, presenting a tray with a ball gag, cuffs for her wrists and ankles, a spreader bar, lube and straps for the bench. You took the platter from her as she looked at her feet.
“Well I’m not going to bend over, go sit down.”
“Yes, Mr. Boyd. Sorry, Mr. Boyd.”
She turned back and sat on the bench. Many times, in the past, you had been the one tied to it, arms and legs spread with your ass in the air. Even when Johanna had been violating you with her toys, sound proofing wasn’t necessary because of the gags that had been jammed between your teeth. However, it probably was necessary to dampen Johanna’s bright yet maniacal laughter at your torture.
You approached your soon-to-be victim and stood with your belt buckle inches from her face. You placed the tray of toys on the bench and plucked the gag from the bunch. She took a deep breath and looked up at you with blue eyes full of cautious expectation. You held the straps of the ball gag as she dutifully wrapped her mouth around it, then tilted her head down so you could fasten it. She let out a quiet whimper as you tightened the gag just a little extra. She looked back up, saliva already beginning to accumulate around the red rubber ball. You chose the wrist restraints next, so she lifted her hands from her lap. She presented her wrists to you willingly, but as you wrapped the leather around them and turned the key, you could feel the nervous stiffness in her movement. Johanna could have won an award for her performance. Every action, expression, and word, drawn out or barely perceptible, convinced you that she was an anxious submissive. If you hadn’t been at the receiving end of her dominant side, you’d think her incapable of taking charge.
You picked up the ankle cuffs and spreader bar. Johanna raised one leg as high as she could, but with the corset it only came up to your knee. You let out an exasperated breath and stooped to grab her ankle. With a yank and a smothered yelp, she fell backward onto her elbows as you jerked her foot up to your waist. Her shoe clattered to the ground, so you rested her foot on your erection as you closed and locked the restraint. She must have felt your package, because she started moving her feet and toes, eagerly stroking you. For a moment you gave in, and grabbed her foot with both hands, grinding forcefully against her explorative movements. Then you regained control and dropped her foot to the floor. She grunted as her heel made a soft slap against the tiles. This time she raised her other foot properly, so you placed the cuff on uneventfully. She raised both feet this time, and you locked them together with the bar. She gave you a somber look as you carelessly dropped her feet again. You looked down at her shoes strewn across the floor and considered making her crawl around and try to put them on. With the spreader bar, she would have to struggle just to get them, much less to put them on. You liked the idea of her regal form humiliated on the tiles.
But your soft side took over. You picked the heels up and got down on your knees at her feet, to gently coaxed them over her toes. You couldn’t help kissing her on the knee before standing up. As much as you enjoyed torturing each other in this BDSM relationship, you felt there was a little something beyond the professional courtesy she showed you. The thought of her having other clients made you question that, but when you looked into her eyes and saw the gratitude for this simple action, you felt butterflies in your chest like you were staring at a high school crush. You smirked a little, then regained your composure.
“Now you may undress me, Johanna.”
With a quick nod, she stood up and shuffled to you, the links rattling as she moved. You kicked your shoes off as she reached up to your collar and pulled your tie through. She undid the knot, carefully folded the expensive silk, and placed it gingerly on the bench. Then she leaned against you for stability while carefully undoing your shirt buttons. When she finished, she carefully removed the shirt from your stoic shoulders. Setting it aside, she lifted your arms over your head to remove your undershirt. You could feel her gloves drag up your stomach and chest. She moved so close when she undid your belt buckle that you could feel her breath on your shoulder. She squatted down and unbuttoned your pants, opened the zipper, then slid your pants, briefs, and socks off with one professional sweep. She was now on her knees, inches away from your erect manhood, but she couldn’t orally pleasure you with the gag in. Instead, she stood up and guided you to the bench. She sat next to you and draped her right leg over your knees, her left dragging behind on the floor because of the bar. She took the bottle of lube and poured a generous amount into her palm, then worked it between the gloves until they were slick with the fluid. You inhaled sharply as she wrapped her hands around your cock. The room was just a little cold, most likely to make Johanna’s nipples perky, but after a few seconds the cool latex warmed.
She was expertly working you with each stroke. Her fingers were winding and weaving as her thumbs swirled around your head. You looked up at her. Your authoritarian glare was fading away under her masterful massaging, and her purely submissive eyes were showing a hint of enjoyment in playing with you. You could have taken back control in an instant by demeaning her somehow, but you chose not to. As much as you knew that playing the submissive was literally half of her job, you’d enjoyed the sessions better when you had toned it down. Days like today didn’t leave you with the desire to torment someone for two hours by tying them to a bed and having your violent way. On the other hand, you also weren’t in the mood to have your hole reamed, your ass whipped, and your predicament mocked by Johanna the dominatrix maid.
You made the slow realization that without the focus on BDSM, this was no longer a fetish session. Instead, this was a weekly date with a prostitute. In the moment you didn’t mind that. With Johanna’s hand edging you towards orgasm, just to bring you back down again and repeat, you were okay with the arrangement. It was the rest of the week when you were trapped with the thought that what had started out as a unique expression of extreme sexual tastes was becoming a crutch in your sex life. You didn’t date as often, because you were going to see Johanna. Going out three nights a week had dropped to two, now one because you knew you would see Johanna. You didn’t even look at porn as often because it didn’t compare to Johanna. But in this moment, looking again into her playful blue eyes, you didn’t mind the arrangement. She gave a smirk, as best she could with her mouth sealed with a gag the size of a golf ball, then turned her attention back to working your rod. As she continued stroking, you decided to give her something in return. You had pretty much given up on the idea of dominant roleplay tonight, in exchange for some mutual pleasure. You lubed up a hand as she continued blissfully stroking you. You ignored the surprise on her face as you lifted her skirt with your dry hand, because you were still technically in charge. She was breathing faster with anticipation as you pulled at her latex panties. She looked down just as you snaked your arm around her compressed waist and dropped your slippery fingers into her pants. She let loose a restrained moan as she felt your fingers squeeze her wet mound. You could feel her heat warm your hand, so you must have just draped icy-digits over her womanhood, but judging by the renewed enthusiasm of her hands, she must have enjoyed it. She tried in vain to press her knees together, but the spreader bar kept them far enough apart that you could continue as you pleased. You couldn’t resist bending over and taking a handful of her impressive bust with your free hand. You stretched the frilly neckline down and underneath one of her tits, just so you could lick and suck her perked nipple. You could feel the tense point soften as you warmed it in your eager mouth. Her breathing became heavier as you started pushing boundaries down below. You forced a yelp from her as your middle finger pushed past her wet lips. She tried to distract you by cradling your sack with her free hand, but after you inserted a second finger into her slit, she had to grip your wrist instead, in a half-hearted attempt to stop the barrage of her pussy. She raised her head to you, and while her expression said that you were torturing her, her eyes said “Don’t stop”. You could feel the fresh stubble of pubic hair recently shaven. The texture gave your hand something to grip as you squeezed her, rolling her clit between your penetrating fingers and oppressive palm. She threw her head back and cried with pleasure, finally letting go of your shaft. She shook in your embrace as you pushed her over the edge of pleasure. Saliva and tears dripped down her face as her gag restricted her breathing and slowed her recovery. She shook violently as you removed your digits from inside her and, in one last sadistic move, dragged them over her oversensitive clit. Once you let go of her waist, she weakly fell onto her side, exposing her dripping slit to you. When you leaned over and kissed her shoulder, you could hear her ragged breathing. You stroked yourself a few times and stood up, facing her vulnerable backside. She had almost recomposed herself when you pulled her by her spreader bar. A fleeting shriek escaped from around the gag, but it turned to giggling as you dropped her legs on top of the bench, leaving her face down on the leather. Your hard cock tensed with the sight of her: splayed out over the padded surface, trying to get up as you held her ass down with one hand. She struggled to get her hands underneath her, but before she could you were on top of her. You forced a hand between the leather and latex to seize her tit again. With a hard squeeze of her rubbery flesh, she finally stopped struggling. You felt the heady high of dominance as all the fight left her. Her struggling had stopped the instant you willed it, and you literally got off on that feeling. Her grunts of effort turned into simpering moans as your other hand traced from her shoulder, down her back, and between her cheeks. You kissed her neck, pausing to savor the sweet scent of her hair. Her fragrance mingled with the chemical smell of the latex and some other rubber you couldn’t discern…
You breathed down the back of her neck as you put your lips to her ear.
“Now that you understand that I’m in charge, I’m going to make you cum as many times as I please. I’m going to leave you a quivering mess in a puddle of your own filth for my enjoyment. Then, if I want, I’m going to use you to finish myself, because you’re just a sex toy that I use to vent my urges. Do you understand?”
She nodded meekly. You felt a pang of guilt looking at her. Something about the curt affirmation made you feel like you just crossed a line. In all honesty you were just trying to maintain the BDSM aspect of the session. You didn’t want her to think… No… To know that you were starting to feel for her.
The thought was bothering you, so you rolled onto your side, carefully lifting your weight off her. You reached behind her head and carefully undid the gag. It slipped from your fingers once you got it loose, and it fell to the bench, splattering her drool across the leather. She lay motionless for a second, catching her breath as more saliva spilled from her red lips.
“Johanna, are you okay to continue?”
“I’m fine Mr. Boyd.” She was still facing down with her eyes closed. You leaned in close.
“Are you sure?” The care that was trapped in your heart must have carried in your voice, because the words got her attention. She turned her head to face you, her eyes a little glossy. Her spit-glossed lips curled into a faint smile.
“Green, Mr. Boyd” You thought the words had caught in her throat, but you brushed it off as a consequence of the gag.
“Alright then. Please present yourself, Johanna.”
“Yes, Mr. Boyd.”
You picked up the gag and placed it back between her brilliant teeth, then she propped herself up on her left arm and knees. Straddling her legs, her vulnerable slit faced you, ready for your girth. You got behind her and traced her lips with your tip before pressing your cock deep inside her. A drawn-out moan escaped her mouth as you thrust into her. Within a few stroked you both had found a rhythm, bouncing against each other in synch. The sound of thighs colliding got louder as you grabbed her corseted waist and started pulling her into each plunging stroke. Each deep drive forced more ecstatic chirps from Johanna’s squirming form. In an attempt to take more control of your session, you gripped her arms and pulled back, suspending her upper body off the bench as you threw your pelvis into hers. Feeling her weight bounce on your lap was exciting you. You wrapped your arms around her, one cradling her throat, the other gripping her bound tits. You started to grunt as an orgasm loomed on the horizon. Your thrusting became shorter and sharper, and her moans became a constant note interrupted by a few sharp inhales. Your bodies moved as one as the feeling came to a head. Streams of hot semen filled her hole as her leaking fluids washed down your groin and trickled onto the leather below. You both sat for a moment, enjoying the feeling of true human connection. She started to lean forward off you, but she was still weak. You grabbed her arm to catch her successfully, but something felt weird.
You opened your hand and saw what appeared to be Johanna’s flesh, rolled up like a shirt sleeve from under her latex uniform. Your heart missed a beat before you realized that she wasn’t hurt. There was no blood, it just looked like there was another layer of darker skin over Johanna’s peeled flesh. When she looked back, all eyes in the room shot open in terror. Johanna saw her “injury”, and you saw her neck. It was as if the skin across her collarbone was peeling itself away from the rest. You got off the bench and backed up a few trembling steps, disturbed and perplexed at the sight in front of you. She sat up and reached behind her head to expertly remove the gag in a few seconds. She threw it behind her and raised her hands to calm you.
“Mr. Boyd, please, stay calm.”
“That’s a little difficult at the moment, but… I’ll try. You’re not hurt, are you?”
She smiled lightly at your concern.
“No, I’m fine. This isn’t my skin.”
You tilted your head at the implication of it being someone else’s, until she continued.
“…or even real skin for that matter,” she quietly assured you as she tugged lightly at the fleshy seam on her arm. She tucked it back under her latex sleeve, and in a moment, Joanna’s arm had returned to normal.
“See, right as rain! Could we please continue like nothing happened?” Her smile told you that she clearly didn’t know about her neck, so you kept it to yourself for a moment.
“What did I just see?”
She paused for a moment, nodding.
“For sanitation purposes, we wear full gloves that look almost identical to our real hands. We can sterilize them between sessions to maintain hygiene. Additionally, the fingernails are made of a stiff rubber. That protects our gloves and clients from punctures during… Internal activities.”
You would have bought it if her neck didn’t look like it had been slit and exsanguinated.
“I suppose doing the same for your neck, face, and head wouldn’t be a bad idea either?”
She looked at you as a hint of her confidence faded. You continued.
“That way you could protect your face from exposure to fluids… So long as the neck seal holds, right?”
Her eyebrows lifted as your point drove home. Her gloved hand traced up her cleavage until her fingertips caught on the open seam.
“Well, fuck.”
“So who lies under Johanna? Some strange woman? Many strange women that alternate weekly?... Are there men in the mix?”
She sighed deeply before responding to your pointed questioning.
“Johanna the Scandinavian fetish maid is actually a fourth-year college student named Valerie who needs to express her fetishes and make some money.”
The Swedish accent had disappeared, but her posture remained, due in no small part to the tight corset hugging her mid-section.
“Valerie also has a budding crush on one of her clients.”
Well that made this entire situation more complicated. You were planning on simply walking out, paying and setting up a new host for your next session. A new host whose skin you wouldn’t pull on. You suddenly realized how entirely naked you were. You reached down to grab your drawers and pants. She put out her hands to stop you from leaving.
“Don’t worry,” you waved her off, “I just don’t want to stand here buck-ass naked while we have this talk.”
She shuffled over anyway to help you balance. Once you were clothed from the waist down, she returned to her spot in front of the bench.
“Well, let’s see it then.”
“What’s that, Mr. Boyd?”
“I think it’s alright if you call me Leon, at this point.”
“Okay… Leon, what did you want me to do?”
“Take off the mask. It’s about time I meet Valerie.”
She hesitated a moment, but when you nodded at her she found the seam again with her fingers. She teased the corners of the slit, working her way around her neck. You watched, transfixed, as she pulled the edge of the mask off her skin, leaving a fleshy skirt under her jaw. You felt anticipation building inside, and a confused erection growing in your pants. She dug her fingers into the gap between her jaw and mask, beginning to distort Johanna’s sleek face. You could see Valerie’s digits working under the rubber skin, stretching the maid off the college student underneath. With a few wet snaps and the sound of crinkling rubber, she pulled up, the fake features freeing Valerie’s real ones. Valerie stood up, her hands in a mocking ‘I surrender’ pose, with Johanna’s artificial visage draped over one hand.
The neckline of the suit separated your usual latex housemaid, in all her kinky splendor, from the blushing, sweaty face of Valerie. Her shoulder-length, chestnut hair had partially fallen out of her tight bun, covering one of her bronze eyes. Compared to Johanna, she was at least 12 years younger. With the spreader bar, she tried fruitlessly to close her knees in an attempt at modesty.
“So now what happens, Leon?”
You hadn’t asked yourself this question yet.
“I’m not sure… Am I the client you mentioned?”
“Yes, Mr. Boyd,” she answered playfully, smirking and blushing at the same time.
“Are you going to get in trouble if we continue our sessions, in light of this new information?”
“I can keep a secret if you can. Do you mind that I’ll have to keep doing…This, as a job?” She gestured around the room.
“No, you have your fun.” You must have hesitated, just a little, because she followed up with some comforting news.
“Over the last month, as I’ve realized how I feel…About you…I’ve been trading clients with the other girls. At this point, you’re the only client with permission to play ‘hawk’ with me…”
She looked a little anxious, afraid that her response wasn’t good enough.
“So you’re saying that you dominate every other man you have sessions with?”
“Yes, women, too. Mostly women, actually; this week will be one male client’s last week, so I’ll only have one gentleman left, and five women.”
That raised your eyebrows for a moment, but you recovered.
“You tie them up and fuck them like you have me?”
“Yes, torture them to a finish and give them some aftercare.”
“Alright. I guess I’ll just call it practice for your time with me.”
She laughed a little and nervously played with the mask. You stepped towards her slowly. She threw the mask on the bench. You stood, half a foot apart, staring into each other’s eyes. You pushed the hair out of her face and leaned in. She grabbed you and kissed deeply. It started slow and passionate, but after a few carnal lunges you were groping every inch of each other and swirling tongues. She pushed away from you with a mischievous grin and sat on the bench. She picked up the mask again, stretched the neck wide, and pulled it down over her head, remembering to tuck the edge under her fake cleavage. Once Johanna was back, she rolled onto her stomach on the bench.
“Mr. Boyd, you may continue using me now.”
You dropped your pants and were lying on her before they hit the floor. Reaching behind you, you grabbed the straps. She cradled your erection in her hot crack, made wide by the spreader bar. Meanwhile, you tied her arms to opposite corners of the bench. Once she was securely bound, she pulled on the restraints; the leather and straps creaked quietly as she tested them. You whispered into her ear again.
“I hope you’re ready for this, Johanna.”
She gave a quick nod in affirmation as you returned the gag to her waiting lips. With a generous squirt of lubricant between her buttocks and a few strokes of your shaft, like a painter’s brush over a canvas, she was ready. You pressed your tip against her puckered anus. It wasn’t until you eased off a little and gently kissed the back of her neck that she relaxed enough for you to gain a little entrance. She whined as your head pressed halfway into her. With all the lubricant, she didn’t stand a chance. In one deep, slow thrust you felt your cock slide entirely into her ring. She screamed through the mask, and you were almost worried until it ended with an exasperated chuckle. She was squeezing the engorged invader with such force that you couldn’t back out for another lunge, so you reached a hand between her legs and rolled her hooded clit between your fingers. She moaned loudly as your handiwork made her relax her muscles a little.
“That’s it, I’ll go real slow and gentle. Just relax for me…”
As if on command, you felt enough pressure relief that you could begin sliding into and out of her. Short distances at first, but after a few minutes you were pumping her rear with your entire, slick length. A few more minutes and she was moving with you. She was making a high-pitched note that was interrupted with the impact of each deep thrust and her own ragged inhales. You decided to pop the gag out, just to hear her whining unfiltered. As soon as you did, she spoke in a voice tortured by pleasure.
“Spank me! Cum in me! Use me, Leon!”
Not wanting to disappoint her, you leaned slightly to one side and started smacking her silicone ass with a cupped palm. She let out a shrill cry with each crack of your hand. Taking charge again, you held her gag back in with one hand as you continued punishing her tender rear. The feeling of power and her tight hole brought you to the edge. With violent thrusts, you grunted to a finish, squeezing muscles in your groin with each pulse in an effort to fill her deeper. You caught your breath for a second, but realized that Johanna still needed your attention. You let go of the gag and reached down between her legs. She let out a shocked gasp when you continued spanking her with each massage of her slit. She leaned back into your chest as much as she could while restrained, so you gave her another mix of pleasure and pain as you sucked her neck and spanked her at the same time. As soon as the sensation registered, you pressed two fingers deep into her wet cunt. She screamed as you rolled her g-spot between your fingers inside her and your palm, pressed deep over her mound. She screeched louder and louder as your hand brought her to a long-awaited climax. She shivered and screamed as waves of pleasure washed over her entire body. She went limp as the waning sensation left her body exhausted.
You were resting with your chin on her shoulder when she regained the energy to speak.
“Take off my mask…”
You pulled a hand from its resting place beneath her ample breast just as the feeling of pins and needles was setting in. The edges of the mask, around her eyes and mouth, had slipped, giving a strange peeling look to Johanna’s face. You pinched it near her collarbone, and a seam appeared just below. You slid your hand into the gash, moist with Valerie’s sweat, and the mass of your hand travelled under her skin and up her neck. Her hot breath kept the void between skin and silicon warm as you splayed your fingers out, behind her head. With one sweeping pull over her head, Johanna’s features stretched and deflated off, and Valerie’s sweat drenched face reappeared. With a dull, wet slap, Johanna’s artificial face fell to the bench, a slick puddle leaking from its many holes. Valerie opened her makeup smeared eyelids to look at you, her face resting on the soiled leather.
“How about… Coffee tomorrow… With Valerie… And an extra session on Wednesday… With Johanna.”
You nodded. That would be nice.
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