The other parts of this story can be found here.
The shower she led me to felt heavenly. The slime rinsed away, but the feelings it elicited, didn’t. It was as if whatever chemical magic was in that oil and weird liquid had seeped into every pore, filling me with an intense, undeniable ache for sex. Hell, I nearly came from just having the warm water run over my skin.
I let them style my hair and dress me in the shortest black minidress I’d ever seen. The stretchy material looked painted on, and with the strappy stilettos that completed the outfit, I looked very much like the street walkers that prowled the Vegas strip.
This was turning out to be a very strange spa visit, I decided. I absently wondered how much this was all going to cost me — monetarily, or… otherwise.
I was fetched back to the spa lobby, where the desk clerk and masseuse were waiting for me.
“Ready?” the masseuse asked. She smiled pleasantly, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Not at all like she was responsible for making me into a sex-crazed edge doll.
“Miss…” I started. She looked too young for ‘ma’am.’ “I just… want to cum. Please, I just want to cum.”
She ran a finger down the side of my jaw, and I shivered. “I know. Wonderful, isn’t it? A very limited-time offer, you should be glad you stopped in today.”
All I could do was nod vacantly.
“Okay, follow me, please.” Perfectly ordinary.
We went up the big stone stairs, and I could hear the thumping bass of generic techno. It felt as if I were leaving the safe, quiet confines of an underground spring, and re-emerging on the surface in full Vegas splendor. Lights, people, and the smell of greed swirled around us, but her path was undeterred. She held a door for me labeled “Service Entrance,” and ushered me inside.
The press of bass was palpable here, a pressure in the air that infiltrated my brain. We weren’t in the main room, but we were adjacent to it. She showed me to a small room, nothing much more than a cubicle. The scent of male arousal here was overpowering, and my heart raced. I needed it. I needed to be filled. My own desire crashed over me again, emptying my mind of any thought save the memory of that slime thing sliding down my throat. I moaned before I could catch myself. The need was overpowering.
The masseuse smiled. “That’s good. You’re doing great.” She pointed to three holes in the far wall, with the edges covered with gaffer’s tape. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do.”
A sick sense of realization came over me.
Well, sick, in the sense that I realized what I was going to do, and that I still wanted it, badly. In fact, I ached for it. I ached to be filled with what was going to be pushed through those holes. My voice was breathy when I asked, “Then why am I dressed up? If I’m just going to be in here?”
She smiled and pointed to the ceiling corner. A camera with a red blinking light was watching us. “You can purchase a copy of your session when you leave, if you’d like. But of course it’s up to you how dressed you’d like to remain.” She gave me the same kind look as when she asked if I had any special needs for my massage. “Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”
My stomach dropped and my cunt throbbed, all at once. Comfortable. Right. “I think as soon as I’ve cum, I’m going to be really comfortable.” I think I managed half a grin, but it was almost impossible to fight the suffocating desire in my body.
“Of course. The slime’s going to keep you on the edge of orgasm throughout your session. Don’t worry, we use a proprietary chemical that won’t let you go over.” Her eyes positively sparkled. “For most people, it wears off after about a hundred loads of cum enter your body.” She shrugged. “More or less.”