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All things considered, you actually really liked working at a sex shop. Sure it was a retail position, you made minimum wage and the hours were usually pretty awful, but you at least got to live vicariously through the people buying things. Just because your husband hadn’t fucked you since you had your child so many years ago doesnt mean you can not think about the woman buying a whip at 3 am, or the man sheepishly buying something obviously for himself.

Still, with the hours you had to work, sometimes you’d wind up in the store all alone. This normally didn’t bother you; it was quiet, you had time to think, and few customers came in anyways. But there was at all times that risk, wasnt there?

The risk of a strange man boldly walking in. That man picking up restraints and using them on you instead of paying for them. He whispered to you that he was just trying out the merchandise, that if you kept a screaming he was gonna hurt you. And he did, by the time you learned your lesson your ass was crosshatched with red welts. And that was before he managed to work a knotted dildo into your unused little asshole wasnt it?

But the biggest humiliation was how your body reacted, how you moaned through the screams of pain, how tightly you gripped down on him when he finally entered him. And how he didn’t even need to ask twice when he demanded you finish him with your throat.

But it never ends there, does it? You were still restrained, still kept. Insteas of freeing you, he moved you to a little used closet and cut a hole through the thin plywood door. A open gag was put in your mouth, to make sure you could never close it, and then you were tied to the door, making sure your mouth lined up perfectly with the hole.

By the time your shift ended the next day, you had serviced over 50 men. Your throat was bruised, your stomach bloated with cum. Your sense of worth ruined.

You wasted no time in having your manager call the cops. He saw you, promised you he’d take care of it, even gave you a paid day off the next day.

Still, when you came back, you were grabbed again. This time your manager knows, he tells you how much money you had made him last time, how good of a girl you had been. That no one would believe you if you told them.

This time your pussy is lined up with the hole. And once again it feels like every man in your small town visits you. Each one violating your body.

By the tenth one it felt good. By the 15th you had cum for each of your new clients. When there was a lul you had to grind your slit against the door, desperate to relieve some of the frustration. And then it started again. One man after another. Cocks of all shapes, different staminas, different moans. Each made you cum.

Except one. You could tell immediately it was your husband, and you didn’t even care at that point he was cheating. He only lasted two thrusts, didn’t he pet? Before he finished. Before be shamefully hobbled back home. It was the most disappointed you had ever been in him.

It was what made you get into work early the next day and tie yourself back up to your post, ready for work.

NSFW: yes

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