Reagan’s whole world had narrowed to another girl’s wet, puffy pussy.
She was naked, on display, as a room full of wealthy, amused men stared at her. She was on all fours, on top of an elegant mahogany table, positioned over her equally-nude friend Bunny, with Bunny’s face beneath Reagan’s cunt and Reagan’s head above Bunny’s pussy.
The humiliation was overwhelming – and it was good. She had done this to herself. No-one had made her. She had accepted the bonus asking her to do this because she was greedy, and she needed the money – and because she was a slut. She had gotten wet from objectification, and wanted to feel it again – and now here she was, a literal sex-decoration, on display for male pleasure.
Her cunt was throbbing so hard it was an effort not to reach down and masturbate frantically. She had never been this wet.
In the haze of humiliation and lust, the world around her had gone dark and dim, and all she could see was Bunny’s cunt, directly below her face. It was completely hairless – laser-treated – and pink and inviting. Her labia were parted slightly, and Reagan could see the little pink nub of her clitoris – erect and eager – and the darker pink that marked the entrance to her fuckhole. Bunny was wet – visibly wet – drooling, leaving a little puddle of slime on the mahogany table beneath her legs.
Reagan had the sudden overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss that perfect pink pussy, to flick the clitoris with the tip of her tongue, and discover what Bunny’s juices tasted like. Bunny would moan, and writhe, and then Reagan would press her own wet, needy pussy against Bunny’s face, and Bunny would lick…
She suppressed the thought. She wasn’t a lesbian, after all.
“I thought it would take longer for Kisses to come back for another bonus,” said a male voice from somewhere in the room. “Kisses” was Reagan’s working name.
“Oh, no,” said someone else. “Did you see her last time? She was practically in heat. That’s a girl who thinks with her cunt. I’m surprised it took her this long, honestly.”
Reagan flushed. Was that what the men thought of her? That she “thought with her cunt”? A part of her felt like she should object, angrily accuse the men of misogyny, and leave the club immediately. But she knew she wouldn’t. She liked it. And she had invited it. The men never said these things about her during her normal work hours. They only did it when she stayed back – when she accepted one of their slutty bonuses. It was part of what she was being paid for – and part of what she so desperately craved.
Besides, they were right. She *did* think with her cunt. How else could she explain where she was right now?
She felt her pussy throb, and again wished that she could masturbate. Had she ever been this wet before?
“Look at the way she’s staring at Bunny’s twat,” said someone else. “She’s dying to have a good munch on that tasty snatch.”
There was laughter, and someone said, “There’s a girl who was born to have cunt juice on her face, if ever I saw one.”
Reagan moaned. She couldn’t think past her lust. She had to fight to avoid touching her pussy – or worse, forcing it down and grinding it against Bunny’s face. “I’m a dumb slut,” she told herself – and somehow that helped, so she began to repeat it, under her breath. “I’m a dumb slut. I’m a dumb slut.” Focusing on the words helped take her mind off her fuckhole.
But then Reagan became aware of something. She was wet – dripping wet – *literally* dripping wet. She could feel moisture from her pussy collecting on her cunt lips – and then she winced as she felt it begin to drool downwards, in a long, sticky rope – directly towards Bunny’s face.
“Open wide, honey,” said someone in the room – and then there was raucous laughter, and some scattered applause.
Reagan risked a look beneath her, down the length of her body, trying to see past her own dangling tits.
Sure enough, Bunny had opened her mouth, and Reagan’s cunt nectar was drooling directly onto her tongue.
Shame coursed through Reagan. She was a *whore*. She had gotten so sluttishly wet that she had drooled cunt-slime into her friend’s *mouth*. In front of all these men. It was so dirty – so filthy. She wasn’t a lesbian – but she thought with her cunt. She was a slut. She was a dumb slut. She was…
… orgasming. Her body shook, and as she realised what was happening, Reagan’s humiliation intensified to new heights, until it felt like electricity running through her whole body.
Because as she orgasmed, she squirted. All over Bunny’s face.
Her pussy made a wet squelching noise as it sprayed female ejaculate across the buxom girl beneath her. There were gasps, and cheers, and laughter from the men.
“Is she… pissing?” asked one man, scandalised.
“No, you idiot, she’s cumming,” said another. “All over the other girl’s face.”
“Make her lick it clean!” shouted someone else.
“We don’t make them do anything,” said a quieter response. “Anyway, don’t you want to see Bunny lie there, with her friend’s cum all over her face?”
Reagan moaned, as she came down from the orgasm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Bunny. “I’m sorry. I’m a dumb slut. I’m sorry.”
Bunny reached up and caressed Reagan’s left breast in a way that felt friendly – even loving. “It’s okay, honey,” she said. “It’s not your fault.” She paused. “And anyway, you taste good.”
This made Reagan blush even harder.
“If you want to make it up to me, you could kiss my pussy to say you’re sorry,” said Bunny. Her voice was husky – with lust? – and she spread her legs a little wider to Reagan.
Reagan knew she shouldn’t. It was slutty. No one had paid her to do it. It was a lesbian thing to do, and she wasn’t a lesbian. But she had been staring at that pussy so intently…
She leaned down, and kissed Bunny’s cunt. Her lips pushed Bunny’s labia apart, and closed around Bunny’s clitoris, sucking it gently. Bunny’s arousal tasted amazing – musky and thick and slutty.
There were more cheers, and applause. “Look at her lez off like a pro!” someone said.
“Natural born cunt-eater,” said another.
It felt good to kiss Bunny’s pussy – but it felt even better to do it with these men watching. With these men *approving*. Their enjoyment made Reagan blush with pride, and she kissed Bunny again, harder.
Bunny moaned, and brought her knees up, pressing them against either side of Reagan’s head. Reagan wasn’t really trapped there – she could move away – but it felt like she was, and that just made her wetter.
At the same time, Bunny reached up and put her hands on Reagan’s hips, and pulled gently. Reagan let herself be pulled, her groin descended to rest against Bunny’s face. A moment later she felt Bunny’s tongue sliding between her labia, and the warmth of her lips, and then Bunny was enthusiastically licking Reagan’s pussy, and Reagan went wild with lust.
Nothing mattered except the taste of Bunny’s cunt, and the feeling of Bunny’s tongue on Reagan’s twat. It felt like a closed circle – like licking Bunny’s fuckhole made her *own* fuckhole get licked – and so she licked as hard as she could.
The men were cheering. Someone said, “It’s not surprising. The fake tits on that Bunny girl make it clear she’s always wanted to be a fucktoy.”
Someone else said, “Kisses should get fake tits too. Anyone want to sponsor her?”
“Absolutely,” said a third voice. “I’ll put it in the bonuses box.”
“She’ll jump at the chance,” said the second voice again. “Look at the way she’s licking. She wants nothing more in the world than to be a sex-doll.”
“No girl who looks like her has brains in their head,” said the first voice. “There’s no point in talking to a girl like that. If you want a response, you need to address her cunt.”
“I wish I’d put in a bonus to let me rape them both,” someone said. “Look at them, they’d cum the second I shoved my cock into one of them.”
At the word “rape”, Reagan felt herself cumming again. There was less squirting this time, but Bunny eagerly swallowed everything that came from Reagan’s pussy. A moment later, Bunny orgasmed too. To Reagan’s disappointment, she wasn’t a squirter, but feeling Bunny’s body shake and knowing that she, Reagan, had made it happen felt amazing.
They might have licked each other all night, except that at some point Reagan felt the tap of a woman’s hand on her shoulder, and a voice said, “Time’s up, girls.”
Reagan looked up from Bunny’s pussy – her face shining with Bunny’s arousal – and saw it was Babydoll, one of the other waitresses, looking down at her not unkindly.
“How long have we…” asked Reagan, but Babydoll answered before she was finished speaking.
“Forty minutes. You’ve put on a good show. Now you can get down.”
There were disappointed noises from the crowd as Reagan unsteadily climbed off Bunny and got to the floor. Her legs were trembling; she was shaking. Now that she wasn’t focused in on Bunny’s cunt, her sense of vulnerability and humiliation returned.
To her immense gratitude, Babydoll draped a warm, soft blanket around her shoulders. Reagan wrapped it around herself eagerly.
Beside her, Bunny was dismounting, and Reagan was obscurely pleased to see the other girl just as flushed and shaky as she was.
“Let’s hear it for Kisses and Bunny!” said Babydoll, and there was a cheer and applause from the audience – after which, Babydoll efficiently led the girls into one of the club’s backrooms, and allowed them to dress.
“I’m sorry,” said Reagan, shyly, to Bunny as they dressed.
“For what?” asked Bunny, squeezing her tits into a black lace bra.
“For being a slut,” said Reagan, blushing.
Bunny laughed. “Oh, honey, you have nothing to apologise for,” she said. “Except maybe that we should have made them pay for that show. Your tongue… was amazing.”
“Really?” asked Reagan. “I mean, I’m not a lesbian – but you tasted so good – and your tongue was wonderful too…”
Bunny chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “Well, let’s not put labels on things, but your mouth certainly knows its way around a pussy.” She paused. “Actually – are you just going home now?”
“I guess,” said Reagan. She thought of going home, and lying awake all night thinking about what a slut she’d been. It made her feel a little scared and lonely. “Why?”
“Well,” said Bunny. “My boyfriend’s out of town. Do you want to maybe… come back to my place, and just make sure that we were *really* finished what we were doing on that table?”
Reagan went bright red. Bunny was inviting her to have sex – not for money, but just because she wanted to.
And, to her surprise, Reagan found she *did* want to, except…
“I don’t know,” she said. “Part of what drove me wild was being *watched*.”
“Well, if that’s what’s bothering you,” said Bunny, “why don’t I film us tonight, and share it with my boyfriend when he gets home?”
Reagan should have said no. She knew she should have.
But the idea of being *filmed* lezzing off with Bunny – of having a video that she had no control over, showing her being a whore, that Bunny would share with other people – with men – did something funny in her pussy, and she felt herself gushingly wet again.
“Yes,” she said, in a quiet, husky voice. “Yes, please.”
And then she said nothing else, because Bunny was kissing her, on the lips, and Reagan was kissing her back, and there was nothing she wanted more than to be a filthy, disgusting whore with Bunny all night long.
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