Nico Robin

Robin discovers in a one-night gig what most people take a lifetime to find: a job she is good at and loves.

Desires Unchained

Under the lights of the dressing room, Robin tightened the laces of the cowgirl vest jacket she had to wear. Observing her ample ass, she adjusts the belt on the small western skirt so that it hung properly on her wide hips; she did not want to expose any more skin than necessary for her job tonight. She walked over to a hat stand, the heels of her black, knee-high boots announcing her every step, and chose a cowgirl hat that fit her best. Lastly, she picked a purple heart badge from a basin on a common table and threaded her belt through the safety pin attachment, displaying it prominently on her hip.

Satisfied after one last check on the mirror, she struts into L'Exhibition O's themed party where pirates, explorers, and other adventurers of all sorts —all scantily clad, it should be noted—awaited, with wanton desires lingering in every lit and unlit cranny of the ball room.

Her job for tonight was simple: help keep a steady supply of liquor from the kitchen to the buffet tables. If a patron says hi, smile and flirt but she's not obliged to do anything more. Though this is one of L'Exhibition O's famed thematic orgies, she was just a waitress, neither a participant, nor a "toy" —others were filling that role. The purple heart badges told everyone the exact extent of her duties.

It wasn't an establishment Robin wanted to work in but, for a one-night gig, it paid handsomely. Her only misfortune, as far as her opinion goes, was being assigned the leathery cowgirl costume. There were other options—her preference being the latex catsuit—that provided more cover and even variations of the cowgirl that either also covered more skin or, at least, more prominent options on which to put her pin.

"Okay, ladies, line up," called their supervisor, a blonde wearing a leather corset and fishnet stockings. They lined up to be inspected —lower cleavage here, higher hemline there, a couple of pointers to look both aloof and seductive at the same time. "And remember what to do when a patron asks to fuck you? Robin, our new girl, if you please?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot, my lord," Robin repeated the rehearsed line, pointing at the badge on her hip. "Would you like me to fetch one of our toys?"

"Very well," their supervisor said, satisfied. "Point to the badge and offer our toys," she reiterated their agreed playbook.

Robin rehearsed the scenario in her head, uncertainty clouding her mind. Given her costume and the placing of her badge, she felt there was no way she could point to her badge that wouldn't be suggestive to an already-aroused patron.

Dim red lights soon flooded the halls of L'Exhibition O. Certain rooms, specifically furnished for different pleasures and sensations, were reserved for private use at the guest's discretion. Designated "Masters" of the orgy facilitated specific shows and activities in larger, better-lit rooms (or "galleries", as L'Exhibition O referred to them) often with the participation of one or more of the establishment's "toys".

The job presented Robin with difficulties she did not anticipate: carrying a tray of filled wine glasses was already difficult in the high heels she wore even without patrons strutting and crawling across the halls and corridors in various states of undress and intoxication. Once, she almost stepped on a man on fours with his vision obstructed by a leather mask askew. Another time she narrowly avoided colliding into a man standing as his slave took him into the throes of orgasm with her mouth.

She got her first indecent proposal a little more than hour into the orgy. "Honey, would you like a 69? I bet I can make you cum before you can make me," asked a guy dressed impeccably like the leader of a crime gang, complete with a fur-collared overcoat and a prosthetic scar across his face. His long dark hair was neatly smoothed back. It took Robin a few moments to understand the proposition that has been made. "Uh, I'm sorry, I cannot, my lord," she fumbled the reply. "Would you like me to fetch one of our toys?" she asked, tapping on the purple badge on her hip.

"Ah, bad luck," said the man, getting a tall glass of champagne from the tray Robin carried instead. "The management should make you waitresses available for service too. I'd pay extra for you."

As the night wore on and the patrons felt less and less reservations, it became harder to serve drinks without bumping into someone. A couple of near-misses nonetheless left a shiny wet spot of liquor on Robin's cleavage. The ever- growing state of inebriation also triggered a growing frequency of indecent proposals made. It also became more and more difficult to fend the patrons off.

Things came to a head for Robin as she was serving a couple on a table. Robin was bent over laying down the wine glass on their table, when a light bump on her ass sent an almost glassful of champagne on the woman's exposed breasts. Fearing an outburst from an enraged patron, Robin apologized profusely.

"Let me wipe it off, please," she said as she took the towel draped on her arm.

An inch or two before she made contact with the soaked spot of skin, she found her wrist in the tight grip of the man.

"You seriously won't just clean-up my slave like some common furniture, will you? You won't just wipe her breasts with that filthy rag? Show some respect slut!"

Taken aback, Robin failed to free her wrist from the man's grip. "I apologize my lord, shall I fetch a new serviette?" She wasn't quite sure if that was the correct response either.

"I think that's unnecessary. How's your tongue?"

Still bent over with her wrist in the man's grip, Robin wasn't quite sure she heard the man correctly.

"Tongue. Out. Now!"

"Uh..." surprised by the man's assertiveness, Robin was forced to comply. It took mere moments for her to realize what a vulnerable and compromising position she put herself into: not only was her tongue out but she was also, to begin with, bent in front of a couple playing power games, with her wrist in full control of the man.

The man wasted no time in enacting his plans. Taking Robin by the hair, he pressed her face with an exposed tongue to his slave's breasts. "That's it you filthy slut, show my slave some reverence!"

The slave moaned and giggled as Robin's tongue (and face) was dragged across her chest. The serving tray, thankfully empty, lay splattered on the floor. Finally satisfied, the man let Robin linger one last time between the breasts of his slave, tilting her head so that the two women were in eye contact.

"This is a very beautiful treat, master. Thank you!" said the slave as she ran an ornate fingernail lightly across Robin's face.

Released, Robin stumbled on her knees. She straightened out her skimpy clothes before crouching to retrieve the serving tray that has fallen by the wayside, and then straightening her clothes once more.

The man, meanwhile, has taken to pouring down his champagne on his slave's agape mouth, trickling down her chin, into her neck, and then her chest, smeared with Robin's lipstick and saliva.

" weren't supposed to do that!" Robin called the couple out, forgetting to use the honorifics for guests. "I'm only a waitress, not a toy!" she continued, indicating the badge on her waist.

But the man couldn't be bothered with her protests. He grabbed his slave by the chin and proceeded to give her champagne-doused lips a passionate, vulgar, and violating kiss. After he was done he spent a few moments admiring the gleeful face of his slave and, while still holding her by the chin, spat on her face.

The slave meekly wiped her face as the man now turned his attention to Robin, still fuming and considering her next course of action. The man took a wad of bills from his pocket and stuffed it in Robin's cleavage.

"For your trouble. Now leave."

The dressing room was empty when Robin went in, her heaving breasts threatening to burst the seams of her attire. Taken aback by the turn of events, she did not pay attention to the wad of bills still stuck in her cleavage, like a dirty towellete wiping between the sweaty folds of her skin. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrors as she considered how to handle the situation.

"Robin?" came an impersonal voice from behind. "Is everything alright?"

She turned around to find her blonde supervisor has also just entered the room. In contrast to her orderly appearance at the beginning of the night, now there were strands of hair detached from her ponytail and her make up looked smeared at certain places. Her pink lipstick has definitely blended into the sides of her pale chin.

Before Robin could answer, her supervisor noticed the bills between her breasts. "Oh you naughty girl," teased her supervisor, eyes narrowing in a conspiratorial glance. "Have you?"

"Oh, no. No!" Robin insisted, yanking the incriminating slips of paper from her cleavage. "It's not what it looks like!"

Her supervisor produced a small red felt wallet and took the bills from Robin's hands, with no resistance. "We can keep it here for the night, so it does not distract you," she assured Robin.

"But, it's not...I don't want..." protested an alarmed Robin.

"And by the way, you don't have to take money from our patrons. The establishment will pay you fifty for each intimate physical contact with a patron, be that a kiss, a touch, or caressess with something more frisky. A hundred if you pleasure them with your mouth and a hundred-fifty if you spread your legs. The house will know," emphasized her supervisor.

"But I don't want to..." Robin wanted to be more assertive but didn't know how to.

Her supervisor looked at her with light blue eyes, as if understanding her protests for the first time. She advanced towards her, both women's nubile busts a hair's breadth away from each other.

Robin felt a long fingernail gently run down the side of her cheek. She suddenly became aware of an unusual tension in the situation, oddly reminiscent of the encounter that brought her to the dressing room in the first place. Her supervisor's fingers rested delicately just below her chin.

"You know this doesn't mean you are a toy, I'd still expect you to keep the drinks flowing," she told Robin. "You get a say on which patrons you indulge. Not to say you can't take all comers, though I'd advice just choose the ones you fancy," she adviced flirtatiously.

"And one more thing..."

Her supervisor drew her in for a long kiss on the lips. The leather of her cowgirl costume rubbed against her supervisor's leather corset, producing small squeaks. Though surprised, Robin was even more astonished to find that she liked it; the release from having to wear a costume so suggestive all night and now finally being able to indulge desires which the costume seems to have awakened in her, was a pleasure that seems to have set-off even more switches inside Robin's brain.

Robin's chest heaved wildly as the kiss ended. Staring at her supervisor's blue eyes once more she felt all too aware of the sweat induced by the leather on her skin. Suddenly her nipples were too aware of the leather pushing her sizeable breasts into an enticing cleavage.

"And one more thing, remove the badge when you indulge a patron; I don't want to give the wrong impression, inconvenience the other waitresses, you know. Enjoy," concluded her supervisor with a wink before she returned to retouching her make up.

The eruption inside her throat was violent and copious. Despite their best efforts, spurts of cum leaked out of Robin's mouth. The stiff rod in her mouth limping and withdrawing, she felt her loins loosen up.

Rather unsure of what's actually expected of her now, Robin walked the halls with a fresh tray of drinks in one hand. She tried not to attract attention so she attempted to frequent the less-busy areas of the establishment. In these corners, the lights were even dimmer and there were fewer people. Maybe a couple making out here and there and occassionally fucking but otherwise it resembled a brothel in a lousy night.

A man came up to her, took a drink, and cleared his throat. "I thought you didn't do patrons any favors other than the drinks," said the man.

Robin nearly dropped her tray at being addressed directly though she carefully recovered, getting a good look at the patron. It was the guy who first made an indecent proposal to her, the one dressed impeccably like the leader of a crime gang, not a strand of hair out of place.

"Excuse me?" clarified Robin, not bothering to sound polite.

The man took a sip of his drink. "You still got your lipstick smeared from cleaning the champagne off that slave. Lucky bitch."

"Have you been stalking me?" asked Robin, her temper flaring up.

"Whoa calm down, sweetheart. It's just that, you're easy on the eyes. And really, how much does it cost for you to reconsider my proposal? Offer's still on the table, just saying."

Robin considered her next response carefully, remembering her supervisor's words. She didn't want to indulge the man at all and yet she thought she could use something out of her earlier conversation with her supervisor.

"Okay, tell you what. I'll let you blow your load on me but that's it. On the house."

"Hmm...and maybe my cock will tempt you to go beyond that..." suggested the man.

"Take it or leave it."

The man did not need time to decide at all. He drained his glass of wine and indicated a nearby empty room.

Robin followed and by the time she entered, the man was already unbuckling his belt. She laid the tray down on a nearby table and took a glass for herself. Then she laid down on her belly on the silken sheets. Even through her leather costume, the silk felt cold but Robin took that as a sign that it hasn't been used. Her lower legs dangling behind her, she propped herself up by her elbows and observed the man so obsessed with her. Soon he was completely with his throbbing erection only a couple of feet away from Robin's face.

"How do you like me now?" asked the man confidently.

"Hmmm..." Robin considered, taking a sip of wine. "Put the overcoat on."

Though only the man's face showed surprise, her cool temerity actually surprised Robin too. Maybe it was the wine, intoxicating her rattled head. Maybe it was the sensation of silk against her skin. Maybe it was the relieving sensation of being able to lie down after hours on her feet. Or maybe it was a perfect combination of all these factors. But the fact is, Robin's face at that moment betrayed no surprise, rather only a mischevious sort of glee.

The man picked up his fur-collared overcoat from a nearby couch. "For someone who doesn't like this, you sure are demanding," he remarked.

"And don't you like it?" asked Robin, already knowing the answer. "Grab a drink and come here."

Obediently, the man picked up the final glass of wine from the tray and faced Robin eagerly. She ran a delicate finger through the underside of his cock starting from the base to the tip, wiping off a few drops of sweat and precum in the process. Robin then dipped that same finger in her glass of wine and licked the finger, as if tasting some delicacy.

"Do you want more of that?" the man teased her, giving his cock a few strokes. "Your lips might just persuade it..."

"Not too fast, baby," Robin stopped him from stroking himself. She then spat on her hand and started lathering his cock. "How do you like that?"

The man took a sip from his wine glass. "Hmm, no the question is how would you want that? Down your throat? Between your legs, perhaps?"

Robin applied a fresh coat of her spit on the pulsing rod. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?"

"You sure know how to tease. But what, are you just gonna stare at it?"

Robin drained the rest of her wine and sat up, still with that mischevious grin on her face. She set her wine glass carefully aside and pressed her breasts together. Slowly, she let a gob of her saliva fall from her mouth to her chest and rubbed it across, coating herself with a thin layer.

"How about you show my breasts what your cock can do? If you can tempt me then maybe I'll consider your proposal," she dared the man.

"So this is how you like it, huh?"

The man eagerly slid his throbbing cock between Robin's breasts, the tip just resting on Robin's throat. More precum oozed out of the man's erect cock and mixed in with the coating Robin has applied. Soon this makeshift lubrication was everywhere and the man's thrusting hips sent his cock sliding effortlessly across Robin's cleavage.

"Yes baby, more! Cum on my tits, baby! Cum on my tits!"

With a racing breath, the man suddenly pulled to a break, withdrawing his cock from the warm confines of Robin's cleavage. He held it in his hand, lightly slapping Robin's breasts, even going as far as sliding it over her face.

"I'm only cumming in your mouth or in your pussy, babe. Don't tell me you are not enticed? Your panties must be very wet."

Robin sighed. As a matter of fact, she is indeed wet between her legs. But she didn't want the man to get what he wanted.

"Okay, fine. You are forcing my hand."

Robin stood up and forced the man to lie on the bed. She mounted his stomach and directed the man's face over her wet glistening cleavage.

"Keep it wet baby, that's it. Spit on it!" commanded Robin.

The man's face completely shocked, Robin then kissed the man on the lips, tasting the mixture of fluids on them. She moaned in approval before going down, kissing the man on the nipples. He shuddered between her legs.

"Do you like that?" Robin asked.

"Damn yes baby! Ride me! Hard!"

Robin worked her way down, kissing his stomach. By now, she can feel the throbbing cock squirming under her chest once more. She wrapped the stiff rod of flesh firmly between her huge breasts. She looked up, a naughty grin of victory plastered on her messy face.

"Now, baby. Cum for me," she commanded, rubbing the man's cock between her breasts, pleasuring it with immense pressure from her soft, warm flesh.

"No! No! Ohhhh..." It was too late by the time the man realized what Robin was up to. He had already erupted to a violent orgasm between Robin's breasts. An explosion of cum punctuated Robin's victory in this encounter. In three or four pumps the man ejaculated copiously but Robin could feel it throb even afterwards.

The man caught his breath as Robin stood up, her chest plastered with the man's cum. She took the wine glass she set aside and scraped off the blobs of cum that was on the man's skin, into the glass, and then poured the collection down her cleavage. Now, she has a legitimate excuse to change out of this revealing cowgirl costume, into something that covered more of her skin.

She scraped the remnants of cum inside the glass with her finger. The man watched as she tasted this sample with that ever mischevious, now victorious, grin.

"For what it's worth, you did make me wet," Robin confessed.

She got up and collected the empty wine glasses on the tray. "Enjoy the rest of your night, my lord," she said as she left the room, in far better spirits than when she entered.

Earlier that night, Robin would've been extremely apprehensive to walk the halls of this orgy with her chest drenched and dripping with cum. But now she took a certain pride in displaying it; it's her trophy for having outsmarted a particularly pushy patron.

She realized that she did not remove the badge on her hip as her supervisor advised. In fact, in the encounter that just ended, the badge has been put askew. She hoped that she could find a replacement when she changed costumes.

"Excuse me, my master wants to talk to you," came a voice interrupting Robin's thoughts. "He has a proposal to make."

"Master, please, I want your cock too. Please cum in my mouth," the slave implored jealously, pitifully, from her messy station at Robin's cleavage.

The voice belonged to a dark-haired woman wearing a black full-body latex suit. It left her pale face uncovered but she also wore a simple leather Venetian mask highlighting her blue eyes.

"I'm sorry but...where is your master?" inquired Robin.

The woman pointed to a blond-haired man sitting by a circular table several meters away. He raised a glass of wine in acknowledgement to Robin.

"He...he wants me to clean you up," said the woman hesitantly, as if unsure whether or not that was a detail she was at liberty to reveal.

Robin observed the man from a distance. Like the persistent patron whose cum she currently wore, the man's blond hair was neatly smoothed back, though it was shorter. The man wore a rather nondescript sports coat and lounged on the table as if he merely awaited a business partner for a meeting. Though plain in the dim lights of L'Exhibition O, the coat accentuated the man's muscular build.

Her pussy still wet from her previous encounter, she decided to at least hear what the man has to say. "Take me to your master then," she told the meek slave.

The slave put her arms around Robin's waist and walked her to the table where the man awaited, escorting Robin as if she were some precious sculpture on the way to a reserved spot on a museum's exhibition floor. Robin rather relished the idea and could not disguise her glee at the thought of how this looked like to onlookers. She strutted her way to the man, hips swaying provocatively.

"Here she is, sir." The slave politely presented Robin to her master.

"Oh how nice of you to come by," the man greeted Robin. "Please have a seat."

The slave took the tray of empty wine glasses from Robin and remained standing while her master offered Robin the spot next to him.

"Let me get to the point," the man started in a business-like manner that Robin expected of him. "It'd be a shame to let that cum dry up on you so I want my lovely slave here to clean it up. Are you up for it?"

"And you? You will just watch?" Robin asked teasingly.

"Ah, of course," mused the man. He diverted his eyes from Robin as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, revealing a bulging erection through his underwear.

Robin caressed the man's erection through the fabric. "Can I take it out?"

"By all means, please."

Robin took her time freeing the erect shaft from the tight confines of the man's underwear. Freed from restraint, Robin ran one stroke from the tip to base, resting her hand on the throbbing veins at the root of the shaft.

"Won't she get jealous, then?" asked Robin, indicating the slave who was still standing expectantly, observing the flirtation between her master and Robin.

"My slut, will you be jealous then?"

"No sir, not at all," came a well-rehearsed answer. Though her face was obstructed by the mask, Robin could not help but feel that the answer she gave was less than truthful.

"Very well then..." Robin released the man's cock from her grip momentarily in order to remove the badge on her waist. That taken care of, she gave the man's cock a couple more strokes.

"Go on, come on now," Robin commanded the eagerly awaiting slave, proferring her body. She started by licking a glob of cum on Robin's leather costume before sucking the whole of it in her mouth. She then looked up to her master, opening her mouth to display the strings of cum before she swallowed it—an exercise in submissive degradation that she seems particularly well trained at.

"That's a good, filthy, little slut," the man commended his slave. "Don't stop now there's more work for you to do."

The masked slave eagerly buried her face upon Robin's cleavage, sloppily licking and slurping the streaks of cum on Robin's skin. Her face was soon smeared by cum thinned with her own saliva.

All this time, Robin was gently stroking the man's erect cock. "Stand up," Robin ordered the man. "Fuck me in the mouth while your slave cleans me."

"That's not a bad idea," concurred the man as he stood up. The slave stopped licking as he did so, looking up with betrayed eyes as her master positioned his cock in front of Robin's lips.

"You are not yet done, you sloppy slut!" berated the man sternly. "Clean her up thoroughly."

"As you command, master."

She proceeded to unlace Robin's vest, to lick the sweaty crevaces of her body that were previously inaccessible.

"Oh, and when you're done, my pussy is also very wet. Take care of it too, will you?" chided Robin mischeviously, in between kissing the man's raging organ.

"Hey, I like how you think," said the man as Robin put a pulsing cock in her mouth. He started carressing the side of her face and she looked up to him flirtatiously. He then held her by the sides of her head and started thrusting into her mouth vigorously. "Slut, you heard what our guest said. Take care of it!"

"Master, please, I want your cock too. Please cum in my mouth," the slave implored jealously, pitifully, from her messy station at Robin's cleavage.

Robin withdrew the man's cock from her mouth to spit on the face of the slave, showering her with her master's precum. "Awww, I thought you wouldn't get jealous? You don't want to disappoint your master, would you?"

Rebuked, the slave returned to her task, slowly making her way to Robin's pussy.

The man didn't seem to take kindly to Robin ordering his slave around. He held Robin's chin up so she was looking straight up at him and slapped his engorged cock on Robin's face. "Hey, I like you but I can't have people playing with my property. You can't order her around!"

Robin, still smiling confidently, grabbed his cock away from her face and started teasing the tip. "You shouldn't tolerate disobedience like that," she said calmly. "I merely saved you the trouble of reminding her where she belongs."

The man smiled. By then the slave was between Robin's legs and Robin tightened her thighs around the slave's head, forcing her to grind and make out with Robin's wet sex. Enjoying what he saw, the man resumed fucking her mouth.

Soon—Robin couldn't tell exactly when—the intensity of the man's thrusts picked up. She found herself choking on each downstroke. The man's cock started pumping a well of saliva trickling out the sides of Robin's lips.

"I love how adoring you stare. You like your punishment?" the man commended her in between moans.

"I-I'm," Robin struggled to get words out as the assault on her mouth continued, cutting her off every syllable or two "cummi—".

Robin pinched the slave's head with her thighs. Her hips started to grind on the face helplessly buried in her pussy. Though there was hardly any space inside her tight confinement, she still managed to moan audibly, catching the attention of her master. Robin's limbs shivered intensely, as though strangling the poor slave trapped between them.

"Cum with me, woman," the man ordered Robin. He forcefully directed her head to meet his thrust, keeping his whole cock inside Robin's throat, his hands preventing Robin from pulling out. Not that he needed to—Robin would've secured that cock in her mouth by herself, ensuring to catch every load of cum.

The eruption inside her throat was violent and copious. Despite their best efforts, spurts of cum leaked out of Robin's mouth. The stiff rod in her mouth limping and withdrawing, she felt her loins loosen up. She couldn't feel her legs as they relaxed, didn't even notice the violated slave stumble down the floor, her mask askew, her face glistening with Robin's cum.

The man's cock was now limp but still enlarged, coated with Robin's saliva and his own cum. Robin grabbed the shaft, and scraped off the coating with a ring made of her index finger and thumb. She licked her fingers clean before starting to stroke the man's shaft once more.

"Woman, what the hell?" exclaimed the man, startled.

Robin admonished him with a long hush. Having reawakened his erection, she played with the tip, licking it like a lollipop. Then, she intensified her strokes and soon the man was moaning once more, bewildered.

He came a second time, in two or three short spurts. Robin directed his cock to ejaculate on her breasts, small streaks joining the ones dripping from her chin.

Having freed himself from Robin, the man sat down beside her again, his limp cock still hanging out. "My goodness, woman. I can't decide if I like you or not".

"I just didn't want to leave her with anything."

As if remembering for the first time, both of them directed their gaze at the sorry slave on her knees in front of them. "Please, can I have some of master's cum?" she begged both of them.

Robin held the slave's gaze as she scraped off a huge puddle of cum on her own cleavage into her mouth, teasing the slave as her desired cum disappeared at Robin's will. "Please!" the slave pleaded loudly, launching herself onto Robin's lap. "Please, let me clean you up again!"

With a delicately raised finger, Robin stopped her whining. She stood up, the slave in her kneeling station. Cleaning up the last streaks of cum on her body, she started to walk away. She turned one last time to the couple, with one final bead of cum on her finger.

"I don't think so, slave. That will not be necessary," she addressed the woman as she licked off the final drop of her master's cum.

Robin walked among the bacchanal crowd, enjoying a new sense of confidence in herself. There was a certain strut to her, a sway of her hips, a flirtatious seduction in her look. Though she would still prefer the latex catsuit costume given the chance, she cherished the streaks of saliva running across the exposed parts of her skin, as if they somehow augmented what her skimpy costume lacked. Rather unfortunate then, that they were drying out rather fast.

Still mindful of her role as a waitress, she proceeded to the kitchen to fetch more drinks.

Robin managed no more than five minutes of relative normalcy as she walked around the party fulfilling her official duties. As she walked around rather aimlessly holding a tray of three glasses of champagne with both hands in front of her, she suddenly felt the lightest of touches groping around her waist.

"Hmmmm...and where is your badge, you little slut?" came the teasing voice of her supervisor.

The sudden intrusion startled her, causing a bit of champagne to spill onto her cleavage. The finger probing her, immediately shifted its attention to her chest, gently sliding over the champagne-soaked spot.

"Hmmmm...and what's this?" her supervisor continued the interrogation as she massaged a certain spot on Robin's breasts. "Oh! You, naughty, naughty slut!"

The hand moved away, allowing Robin a cursory glance that gave her a clue what exactly elicited the excitement in her supervisor's voice: in between her fingers were the ever thin threads of semi-dried cum.

Her supervisor walked in front of her, tasting the sample collected on her fingers. "Mmmmm, just as I thought," she said, throwing coquettish eyes at Robin. "Just as I thought..."

Robin blushed, her little mischief discovered. She shifted on her heels, swaying her hips slightly, the sensual euphoria of her emotions getting the better of her judgement.

"I guess..." she started flirtatiously, though a voice at the back of her head braced for a reprimand. "I guess you'd just have to punish me then?"

A stern blue eye scrutinized Robin in reply. Her supervisor bit her lip, looking equally eager and inhibited at the prospect of punishing Robin.

"The Dungeon needs some drinks, I heard," her supervisor informed her, referring to one of the Exhibition's rooms. "Do attend to that, will you?"

"My King, your Queen's rightful place between your legs, ready to serve your cock."

Expecting a busy room and multiple trips to serve drinks, Robin knocked on the Dungeon door, painstakingly ornamented to look like heavy cast iron with a very medieval touch. In one hand, she delicately balanced a tray full of filled wine glasses.

A naked man opened the door and ushered Robin into the room. "Majesty!" he called out rather pompously over the rest of the room. "Your requisition has arrived!"

The Dungeon was among the Exhibit's several themed orgy rooms. True to its name, it spared no expense in looking dark, grimy, and hostile, exactly like a medieval dungeon. Somehow, in this modern building that housed tonight's orgy, they managed to make a room have cobbled floor. At the far end of the room, where windows would usually be, was an array of reflective panels, evocative of mirrors but on which swam murky images of the room. A series of cleverly- placed lights reflected blue light of off them, suffusing the entire room with a cool hue as in a night with a full moon.

In this particular night, the Dungeon hosted the party of an all-conquering king, conducting a degrading but ultimately important—even sacred—ceremony for his female subjects—that of lighting the fires of carnal desire in them so that they may serve their purpose as pleasure holes for the men of the kingdom.

Several sluts, readily broken, already served their purpose dutifully at the dim corners of the Dungeon. All fully naked, a few of them were dedicated to one man exclusively while most others pleased as many cocks as they could, hosting their own mini-orgy. Robin spied a redhead inviting more to violate her already-spitroasted body. Another blue-haired slut was blindfolded with her hands tied behind her as men took turns in her holes. Several sluts were in cages (a few here and there still empty), looking fittingly distressed as men took turns attempting to break them.

At the center of the Dungeon stood a large vaulted canopy, housing the King's throne. Torches were attached to each of the four pillars, bathing the area in a warmth and a light that contrasted perfectly with the rest of the room. Beside the King's throne, in lieu of a corresponding throne for a Queen, was an imposing X-cross. A small but luxurious bed lay in front, partially protruding from the canopy's shade and making the King rather inaccessible to his subjects.

Still giddy from her mischievious adventures so far, Robin half-considered to approach the King crawling seductively on the bed though she ultimately decided against the idea.

"" Robin hesitantly asked the Dungeon's King. "Or I could fetch you other drinks if wine's not your fancy."

It was pretty clear as Robin read the room that none of them was even remotely interested in any drink. In fact, she sensed a strange vibe in the Dungeon's mood; though at the nooks and crannies the participants orgied with wild abandon, the center of the room was rather timid.

"Cute but I didn't call for drinks," replied the King after a lengthy period examining Robin.

"Well, I was—"

Oblivious to Robin's confusion, the King rose from his throne. A group of men nearby gave way for the King, revealing the brown-haired slut in their midst on which they were taking turns.

She was on fours and a man was just emptying his load in her throat. Upon sensing the King's approach, the man promptly withdrew his cock, squirting the last throes of his seed all over the slut's face.

"I asked for a slut to make my Queen, rule this little Dungeon of ours for the night," the King dramatically explained to Robin. "And yet I get a pathetic excuse for a slut, who can't even pleasure my men with dignity!"

He spat on the brown-haired slut to emphasize his point. Robin observed her carefully as she grovelled on the floor, looking up admiringly to her King, begging him to fuck her pussy and let her cum. On her face was a mixture of fluids marking her shame: cum and wine, grool and drool. Her incoherent rambling was made all the more unintelligible by the slobber of yet more cum and drool dripping copiously from her mouth. Traces of her deep red lipstick streaked all over her chin.

She also wore the latex catsuit costume Robin has so wanted for the night.

Slowly, Robin realized her supervisor's subtle subterfuge. She did not send drinks to the Dungeon through Robin—she sent Robin to the Dungeon through the drinks.

"Well? What say you, whore? Does this slut look worthy of being my Queen to you?"

Robin missed a beat, thinking about what she should do in this situation. Then, it came to her. What she was about to do seemed awfully crazy to her but time and the King's patience was not on her side.

"You," she indicated one of the men. "Hold this."

The man looked surprised when Robin handed him the tray of wine glasses, but nonetheless obeyed her command silently. So far so good, thought Robin.

Taking two wine glasses from the tray, she strutted towards the King, liberally swaying her hips.

"Again, I didn't call for drinks! What say you—"

Pressing one of the glasses lightly on the King's lips, Robin silenced him. "Hush now, King," she said coquettishly. "That's no way to talk to a Lady."

The King took his drink and Robin dared slide her free hand across the King's back, up to his shoulder. "You should be enjoying the show, my King," she teased him.

"Please my King," begged the broken slut at their feet. "Your cock, my King... please fuck your poor slut doll..."

"Aww..." Robin ridiculed her, mischiveously glaring at her from beside the King. "Let's put you in your place shall we?

"Boys!" she called out to the rest of the men surrounding them. "Get this pathetic broken slut out of your King's feet. Chain her up to that cross!"

The slut protested loudly and so did the King. "That cross," he said emphatically, "is exclusively for the Queen!"

"Hush now, King, that's no place for your Queen, trust me," Robin charmed the enraged monarch. She slid her hand from his shoulder, over his neck, across his chest, and into his arm, playfully tipping the wine glass he held onto the slut at their feet.

"Ooops. You did say you didn't call for drinks anyway..."

The King glared at Robin and her antics. Her heart pounded in her ample bosom yet somehow she managed to keep her cool and hold the King's gaze.

"Do tell, then, where a Queen's place should be."

Robin's pounding heart leapt. Though the King's glare has lost none of its intensity, his reply could not have fit her seduction scheme any better.

Like a brothel lady leading a man to her room, Robin lead the King back to his throne. The slut whimpered as they walked away, trying to grab at their heels, repeatedly begging to be fucked.

Robin glanced menacingly at the men watching. "I believe I told you to chain up this pathetic doll?"

The men looked at their King, confused. A shadow of hesitation danced across the King's face but in a beat he commanded them decisively, "You heard the Lady, what are you waiting for?"

The slut wailed even louder as the men picked her up, following Robin's orders. As chains bound her to the leather arms of the cross, she watched as her King seated himself on his throne, not a meter away from her, his full attention on the scheming, seductive Robin.

"So," he asked Robin, "are you going to give me some answers or should I have my men bring out my whip?"

Robin giggled. Putting on a show of sipping from her wine glass before pouring the rest down her cleavage she began her answer with much pomp and flair.

"My King, your Queen's rightful place is..."

She knelt in front of the King but not before ensuring the King got a full view of the glistening skin of her soaked chest.

" between your legs, ready to serve your cock."

The King couldn't hide his smirk. He held Robin by the chin with his thumb and index finger, staring intensely and directly into her eyes.

"You think you deserve my cock?" He spat on her face to punctuate his question.

"Yes, King, I do," she answered confidently, biting her lips in a show of immense anticipation.

Slowly, with his other hand, the King reached inside his trousers and, with some difficulty, extracted an erect cock, the pulsing tip a mere hair's breadth away from Robin's face.

"You better suck cock worthy of a Slut Queen."

The crazed slut struggled in her chains, cries of jealousy and despair emanating from her violated mouth. Robin held out her tongue to lightly brush the pulsing head of the King's cock. The slut continued to struggle, her denied orgasm driving her to the edge. Seeking to evoke even more jealousy, Robin wrapped her hand on the King's shaft and proceeded to stroke it deliberately.

"Please my King..." the slut begged, punctuated by clinks of her chains. "Please let me cum. Please I need a cock in my pussy...I need your cock in my pussy."

Robin kissed the smooth pinkish tip of the King's cock before opening up her mouth, sheathing the whole cock into her throat. She took great care to brush the length of the shaft with her lips feeling every bump and kink.

She gagged as the King's cock pulsed in excitement inside her. Releasing the veiny shaft out of reflex, she had to inhale sharply to recover. The King, however, held her by the head, forcing her to look up to him.

"Come now, Queen," the King teased her as she panted. "You were doing so well..."

The slut heard how the King addressed Robin and whimpered and struggled even more. She hasn't carried herself like the Queen of this Dungeon and the King's displeasure was already a slight to her reputation. Hearing him address another slut with the title of Queen made it graver.

Robin found the shaft of meat, wet with her saliva, slapping her face. "You flatter me, my King, but I've yet to deserve the title of your Queen."

Without warning, the King fucked her mouth. Holding her hair forcefully, he thrusted, violating her throat with fierce disregard for anything else. Taken by surprise, for a short moment Robin struggled before the rhythmic action of cock against the walls of her throat soothed her. Though the King fucked her with such vigor, she found the sensation of predictability comforting.

Before he erupted, the King let go. Robin panted even heavier. A clear but heavy string of precum connected the King's cock with its erstwhile sheathe.

"Rise, my Queen," the King commanded her. "I want to fuck your pussy. Ride me."

Elated, Robin obeyed enthusiastically. The side slits of her scandalously short skirt proved ideal for spreading her thighs and straddling the King's hips. With a primal ferocity the King pulled her sheer panties impatiently aside, stopping short of tearing it off completely—Robin thought she might have to go home tonight commando.

Her pussy was far wetter than she realized. She slid on the pulsing slab of meat tightly, like two puzzle pieces on a board. Were she any less lubricated, the intrusion would've been a punishment. But tonight, apparently, she is the Slut Queen, destined for her King, destined to elicit a moan from this proud man with every slight gyration of her hips.

The King could not even take the time to properly unwrap his Slut Queen. As Robin bounced and violated herself on his cock, his mouth ravaged her huge breasts, gorging his face on the glistening traces of wine and leaving his own traces in the process.

Exhilirated by all that was happening, Robin carried more swagger in her gesture, at least the few limbs that she could spare. Her pussy savored every inch of pleasure of the King's cock even as it meant getting rammed repeatedly with no regard for her comfort at all. It was as if her hips drew moans from the depths of his being just as her pussy coaxed cum from his balls.

In response to her shamelessly carnal bearing, the King muffled his moans on Robin's flesh. Just as his Slut Queen pleasured and violated herself with every inch of his cock, he afforded his mouth with every inch of her soft warm flesh, indulging in the lewd mixture of scents she carried.

Robin came without warning as the man was buried in her bosom, sucking on her skin. She felt grool gush forth from her sex as she moaned like a wild beast. But it did not stop her. Her pussy overstimulated, she instinctively laid both arms on the King's shoulders, as if trying to stand up, trying to extract herself from being impaled on his cock, trying to wean herself off the overstimulation that threatened to melt all reason in her head. But her legs and her hips wouldn't let her, seeking more of that depraved pleasure, everything else be damned.

Not that the King would let her leave either, as Robin found a firm hand dragging her down even as her hips continued bouncing as if with a life of their own. She caught the King's gaze glaring at her, reproaching her for being loose and cumming too early, without his permission. But the tension was short-lived. King and Queen shared a resounding perverted laugh at this small moment of connection, like two degenerate souls at the heart of this dungeon of debauchery.

"You. Scandalous. Slut." The King admonished her, punctuating each of his words with a slap on her ass.

Robin wrapped her hands on the man's head. From her attempt at extracting herself, she now used the man's frame for leverage as she quickened the pace of her hips once more.

"I thought you were looking for a slut who could ride you with dignity?" she teased.

This seems to have invigorated the King even further. He wrapped his arms around Robin's hips and fucked her as she bounced on him, his moans transforming to an almost low growl. This throne better be sturdy, thought Robin.

Robin could make out a cloudy image of herself reflected on the mirror-like panels mounted on the walls. She watched as this foggy version of herself bobbed up and down. She watched as the even-vaguer image of the king writhed within her shadow. The visions submerged her into a different level of immersion altogether. It brought to mind this afternoon she spent at an amusement park with a group of friends; together they rode this attraction that was set-up inside a special cinema. The film showed a ten-minute action sequence from the first person—that particular afternoon it was about a pirate ship besieged in battle, swaying left and right from wild waves and cannon fire—and the seats jerked, lurched, and swayed in-sync with the on-screen action.

She looked down at the King, intently making out with the glistening skin of her tits. For someone who demanded that his Queen be able to pleasure men with dignity, this King worshipped his Queen like an animal—a sloppy pig to be precise. Robin gazed back at the reflections and watched as the King's squirming form indulged itself in her comely figure.

Feeling the King's cock inside her sensitive pussy, the King's ravaging tongue on her soft flesh, topped off with the mirage of a film that she watched showing her violated and cherished simultaneously—it all amplified her experience. As this unholy and hedonistic feedback loop of sensation flooded her with pleasure from head to toe, something clicked inside Robin's head.

A slut gets used by others for pleasure but a sophisticated slut has a hand in her own humiliation. She's a slut toy but she relishes being an object of pleasure and one that has a say about how she's used; as a Queen commands her subjects so can a sophisticated slut toy make her lovers treat her like porcelain or a vulgar cumdump depending on what would please her.

This is what separated a Slut Queen—as she is— from the pathetic failure of a slut toy—as the one chained on the cross beside her, begging for cock.

Whether from fatigue or a conscious choice to fuck Robin more deliberately, the King has slowed the pace of his thrusts, his arms clasped tightly around Robin's shoulders and hips to control her rhythm. Taking the lull in action as an opportunity to enjoy her reflection more, Robin straightens her back, shoving her soft, warm, and messy flesh deeper to the King's greedy, sloppy face. It furthered her arousal as she watched the blurry shadow that is her reflection perk up, shoulders square and dignified like proper royalty, hips and breasts bouncing like a seasoned whore.

The King flinched, as if awoken from a trance, as the breasts he has been ravaging shoved back. At least, as far as his throne allowed him to. He looked up at Robin and saw, not only a Queen, but a Goddess come to her High Priest demanding tribute. With Robin's comely figure casting a shadow over him, her breasts pushing him back, he was less an all-conquering king overseeing an orgy and more a prey led to a trap by his base urges.

And now, his predator is ready to play with him.

Robin pulled his hair from behind, forcing him to look up to her. She kisses him in pure predatory lust as the engines bouncing her hips notched up a gear. In his lips he tastes herself: her sweat, her scent, the wine she has doused herself with, the cum she's worn and has dried up on her skin.

"Cum with me, my King," she commands him.

His eyes locked with Robin's as if hypnotized, the King matches his Queen's intensity. Robin moans, pleased at her King's commitment. Steadily, she builds up the rhythm of her thrusting hips as she forges her second orgasm of the night. Spellbound, the King keeps up with her. Soon, the carnal lovers seemed to converse in their own language of moans, grunts, and lascivious laughter, publicizing a very private pleasure that they both shared.

"Fuck! Fuck! I'm cumming!" Robin announced. The King responded in a moan so low it was as if he wanted to intensify the pleasant vibrations building up in their loins.

"Cum with me—in me—"

The King erupted violently between Robin's thighs just as Robin hit her peak. She grabs the King's head in a tight embrace with her bosom as they shared this wet sticky pleasure. The King growled savagely between Robin's breasts as Robin grinded her hips on his lap, intent to coax and keep as much cum from him as she could. Devoid of any thought, much less philosophical musings on dignity and smut, Robin moaned as she felt a warmth fill every fold and crevice of her pussy.

It took some time for their trembling limbs to settle. They made out as the King's semi-erect dick remained sheathed in Robin's wet pussy. Robin thought she'd get a cramp trying to keep all that warm fluid love inside of her.

King and Queen breathing heavily, Robin stood herself up deliberately and carefully to minimize cum spillage but it was ultimately futile to keep all of it in. A viscous pearly string connected both their sexes as Robin dismounted him; she was sorely tempted to lick and suck off the film of cum coating the King's semi-erect rod but she didn't want more cum to leak from her pussy.

Lacking any grace of poise she slumped down on the small bed in front of the throne. The silky sheets immediately disarms her from comfort. Alas, she is not yet done enjoying the night. She lies on her back and spreads her legs for the King to view his work.

"Release her and bring her to me!" she commanded the men who have stood by all this time.

The pathetic slut doll whose purpose for the night Robin has usurped was at the point of tears, deprived of the one thing that would've extinguished the burning obsession that has possessed her. She fell immediately to her knees as her binds released and would've crawled to the King were it not for the alertness of the King's men, who, it seemed, didn't need to be told what to do. The slut was even fitted a leash to complete her humiliation and one of the men took it upon himself to drag the begging slut crawling through the floor.

Her ass was red from rubbing on the leather surface of the saltire in her futile attempt to satisfy her own depraved sex as she was bound.

Robin impatiently grabs the chain from the man's hand and pulls the slut between her legs. "Come now, I have a treat for you," she teases the slut. "Didn't you want the King's cum? Well? My pussy won't lick itself clean..."

The King laughs and his men cheer at the display of humiliation they are now treated to. The slut looks at Robin through the gaps of Robin's thighs confused and pleading. Robin tugs at the chain, reminding her that she doesn't really have a choice in the matter.

Reluctantly, the slut licks the lips of Robin's pussy but Robin has no patience for her lack of enthusiasm. She drags the leash, and engulfs the slut's face into the wet and messy folds of her sex. Taken by surprise, the slut flinches, struggles, but she finds her efforts in vain; her lips, nose, and chin are coated with her King's cum, served through Robin's pussy. Robin moaned as the slut's face flailed between her thighs, her pussy still quite aroused and sensitive from riding the King.

Her thighs pinch the slut's thrashing head, restraining her struggles and, for Robin, concentrating the stimulation of her pussy even further. The slut gasps for air, only to draw in the musk of Robin's arousal. She attempts to protest only for her mouth to welcome the second-hand cum Robin has had the courtesy to share with her.

Alas, broken and humiliated, she concedes. Convinced that she is now nothing more than an instrument for Robin's pleasure she settles and uses her tongue to enjoy the juices her Queen had so graciously allowed her to have. Greedily, she probes Robin's sex, making the best out of what she's given and cleaning her Queen thoroughly.

Robin moans in satisfaction as her slut slave licked and sucked at her sensitive pussy. She watched as the slut's sloppy kisses smeared a filthy mixture of juices on her face, as the slut humiliated herself at her Queen's orders.

Robin's cries of pleasure crescendos. She locks her thighs firmly around the slut's head and pushes her hips outward just as she tugged the leash even more taut. Surprised, the slut flails her arms around the bed in a futile attempt to beg for mercy, to get some space, some air to breathe. But Robin only grants her something worthy of a slut toy: a most intimate view of her Queen's third orgasm of the night.

Moaning explicitly and loudly, Robin lets loose and squirts copiously at the pillow squirming between her thighs. With the disgusting mess of lewd fluids blended as thouroughly as it gets lubricating the slut's head, she was afforded a small degree of freedom in her bondage. But her movement just meant more stimulation for her Queen, prolonging the fireworks of sensations erupting from Robin's pussy.

As her third orgasm naturally subsided, Robin's thighs relaxed and so did her grasp of the leash's chain. Having served her purpose, the slut—who almost fainted as her Queen released her—no longer interested Robin. The slut, slumped on the floor, gasping for air, her face still connected to Robin's pussy by tenuous lines of sexual secretions.


The King has risen from his throne and towered above the slut. Aroused by Robin's little show, his cock was erect once more. The slut gasped, finding herself a hair's breadth away from the cock she has yearned for all this night. But before she could get any ideas the King has ordered his men to take her and put her in one of the display cages. "Let any man pleasure himself on her holes," he commanded.

The slut fought back as she was taken away but, as with all her efforts tonight, her protests and struggles were in vain. As for the King, he began to impatiently and roughly tear off Robin's cowgirl costume. Robin was surprised but not alarmed—she knew the King was enamored with her.

"Would you like to fuck my tits, my King?" Robin suggested as she held her huge breasts invitingly together.

"Ah, tempting," the King responded as he ran a finger along the contours of Robin's naked body. He feels the moisture on her skin, a testament to her adventures tonight. Just as he indulged himself on her earlier he tastes the sample he has collected on his fingertip. "But I'm afraid I would have to decline...for now."

The King gestures to one of his men before Robin could tease him any further. A man approaches them, holding a royal mantle identical to what the King wore: an opulent shade of red, lined with white fur, and ornamented in gold. Robin found herself being propped up straight on the bed by the King, his hands around her sweaty ribs. And then warmth, as the mantle was draped on her. Heart and breathing still racing, she knew the mantle would make for an inconveniently hot costume, one she would sweat on all over though, at the same time, she liked how it felt on her skin.

The King sits beside her and puts his hands underneath her mantle, immersing and running them through her filthy skin. He massages her breasts tenderly.

Needing no words, Robin mounts the King once more, impaling herself on his rigid cock. She moans a bit as she slid down his shaft. The King immediately starts making out with her, alternating between her mouth and her breasts. Robin shudders atop the King, her flesh wanting more and more of tonight's pleasures but her mind feeling quite overwhelmed.

"Let's just stay like this, soak in each other's sex for a bit, shall we?" the King suggests to her, as if he could read her mind.

"As you wish, my King," she gladly responds and cuddles the King up as he continued gently making out with her flesh. Their fused beings covered by the mantles they wore, Robin realized that this is the most she's been covered throughout the night but also, ironically, the most she's been exposed. Her night started playing games with patrons but now this King has had access to—and currently very much still buried in—every inch and fold of her pussy and has made her cum. Twice.

Once more, she sees her reflection on the room's ersatz windows. The simplicity and uniqueness of her image made it very clear to her what she's looking at. There stood her dark-haired head atop a gently-pulsing mass of opulent red. Her head rocked back and forth as the King made love to her. Robin smirked.

On her reflection she could see a woman sexually indulged and satisfied. A woman with every one of her perverted and lusty desires unchained.