Sissyboy Jake Is Harshly Used – Part 2

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Ass

I lay on the thin blue pad, exhausted and somewhat dazed. As I said, I was very new at this and didn’t expect such harsh treatment so quickly. My bottom was sore and I actually thought I felt my insides twitching. My legs were shaking. I felt the warm fluid trickling out and down the back of my leg, pooling on the pad underneath me. This was my first time and they had been so rough. If Tiffany hadn’t prepared me so well, I doubt I could have survived it. Karl and Rashid were both getting dressed. Karl was laughing and talking with Rashid about how nice and tight my ass felt, how I compared to the last few sissy-boys he’d brought down here. It was awful, hearing them talk about me like I wasn’t there. As if I did this all the time and this was just another trick. “She’s tight, I’ll grant you that, but she doesn’t show much enthusiasm,” Rashid complained. “Remember, my friend, she is new at this. Tiffany told us she might even be a virgin,” Karl said. Rashid stepped forward and nudged me with the toe of his shoe. “Is that right, little whore? Did we take your cherry?” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. They had, and they had been completely callous about it. I wanted to call the whole thing off right then. It wasn’t what I’d imagined, not at all. “I asked you a question,” Rashid said. He crouched down behind me and I felt something pressing against my bottom. I wanted to jump to my feet but I was too sore. I straightened my legs and pushed myself up on one hip. Whatever it was, he was sliding it idly up and down along the underside of my balls. “Yes, Sir, you did,” I said. My voice was a whisper from far away. Karl leaned close to me and tipped my head back, his hand under my chin. “I didn’t hear that,” he said. “Yes, Sir, you are . . . you took my ass cherry.” I choked on the words, I’d never thought of it that way and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. But I knew that I hated saying it. “Get up,” Rashid said I pushed myself to my feet, feeling the warm cum drizzle down my legs as I stood straight. I smoothed out my corset. One of my stockings had come free of its garter clip, so I bent down and reconnected it. Another gush came out of almanbahis me. This time it made a little bubbling sound and I turned bright red. “You’re dripping,” Karl said. He threw me a pair of men’s briefs. “Put those on.” I did. Rashid and Karl motioned for me to follow them. I picked up my dress and shoes and carried them with me. We went through the basement and up the stairs. They led me up a flight of stairs, then down a long hallway and finally into the bedroom. The room was very modern, chrome and glass tables, aluminum dresser and chest. The carpet was light eggshell, almost white. One wall had an outdoor window and the two adjoining walls were mirrored closets from end to end. The bed had a simple metal frame all the way around and no headboard. There were pictures on the walls, large black and white lithographs of torsos. They were cropped such that you couldn’t tell which were male and which were female. On the bed, I saw a classic French Maid outfit. Tiny, black satin corset dress with a frilly white apron. Black stockings and high heels, a silly looking hat and a feather duster. Rashid left and Karl motioned toward the bed. I sat down on the edge, my knees together, my dress and shoes in my lap. “Once you’re put on the outfit, make the bed and tidy up this room. There’s laundry in a hamper in the closet, the machine is downstairs, near where we took you earlier. You’ll find hampers in each of the rooms. Four on this floor, four upstairs. Do as many loads as it takes. “While the machines are running, you can come back upstairs and make the beds. These rooms were all occupied last night, so they all need to be checked. You don’t need to change the sheets unless you see a reason.” He turned toward me. “Are you getting all of this?” he asked. I was, but I didn’t know what to say. It didn’t make any sense. Tiffany had dropped me off here for them to use and they were having me do the laundry? I squirmed, feeing the dampness where I was leaking into the underpants. My balls were sticky from the goo. Thinking about it made my cock start to stiffen. “Hey, Sally! Are you getting all of this?” I nodded. I was, even though it almanbahis yeni giriş made no sense. I was getting it. Karl evidently understood the look on my face because he just smiled. “All right, then. Come and find me when you’re finished with all of that and I’ll have your next assignment. By the way, when you put on the outfit, you don’t need to tape yourself. Let it all hang out. We don’t really care that much. You’re here to work, not to look pretty.” Karl left me alone with the outfit and the clothes hamper. I wanted to shower and get some of the gunk off of me, fix my hair and makeup, but my months with Tiffany had taught me to not do too much thinking for myself. They hadn’t told me to shower so I wasn’t going to shower. I took off my outfit and folded it neatly on the bed. I caught a look at myself in the parallel mirrors. My body was reflected infinitely down each wall. There was something hypnotic about it. I stared for two full minutes before I realized my focus was on my backside, on a spot that had dried about six inches down the inside of my right thigh. I felt embarrassed and looked away. I put the outfit on quickly. Tiffany must have given them my size because it was perfect – the corset snug, the stockings high and the skirt just at the bottom of my arse. I turned to look for the laundry hamper and saw myself in the hall of mirrors again. A French Maid, indistinguishable from a thousand other French Maids dressing up in costumes to please boyfriends, husbands, and lovers. Or, in my case, complete strangers into whose hands my lover had delivered me. The clothes hamper had only a few things in it. I carried them in one arm and went down the hall to the next room. It was completely different, it looked like a 1950’s bedroom, the clunky bedframe, the ugly lamp. The hamper was half full so I put the other clothes in and carried it with me. The other two rooms were decorated in themes as well – a Parisian brothel and an Old West Honky Tonk. The hamper was full now, I’d need to come back and do another load. As I went down the stairs to the first floor, I saw a couple walking toward me. The girl was looking almanbahis giriş at me and giggling. She pressed her head against the man’s shoulder. The man laughed and pulled her close. “It’s one’a them sissy boys. I heard they do the women’s work around here,” he laughed. He held up his hand and I stopped a few feet in front of him. “You doin’ the laundry, Nancy?” I lowered my eyes and muttered, “yes”. He laughed and they walked by me. I jumped when he smacked my ass. The girl giggled again. I walked down the stairs, feeling dizzy and confused. Why was this turning me on? I was doing housework, the menial task of putting dirty clothes into a washing machine, and it was turning me on. I measured the soap, turned on the water, and set the timer. The machine started up. I felt the vibration under my palm and had a flash of an image of me pressed up against it, feeling it against me like a huge steel vibrator. While the machine filled, I went back upstairs. I made the beds in the first two rooms. The feel of the cool sheets under my hand as I smoothed them aroused me. The glimpses I caught of myself in the mirror aroused me. The smell of the sweaty underclothes in the hamper aroused me. It was so confusing. I wondered what I might be turning into. The third room was occupied so I went and collected the hamper from the fourth one. On my way down the stairs, I passed another couple. As they went by, the woman slid her hand up my right thigh. I froze. “Randy, you were right,” she said. “She’s a man.” She slid her hand all the way until my limp dick was in her hand. “Well, she’s got a prick anyway.” Randy sneered at me. “That ain’t no man! And I’m not paying for you to tease the help!” he barked. He grabbed her arm. She gave my balls a hard smack and I crouched, pain shooting up into my gut. They vanished up the stairs and into the room I’d just cleaned. I leaned against the stair rail for a minute to catch my breath. Tiffany could be harsh but she knew how much I could take. This girl didn’t know me from Adam and had really slammed them. When I could gather my thoughts, I continued down the stairs. I thought about what he said to her, about the different themed rooms, about the room in the basement. They were running a brothel! Why did it surprise me? What did I think? They just had a weird decorating scheme? I set the hamper in front of the washing machine and looked around.

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