Fresh Cunt 30

I didn’t realize until some time had passed, but Miranda was the first clue that something wasn’t right with Duncan. It was the elephant tattoo that alerted me to this, though I needed 94 to explain it me.

“How was your trip,” 94 asked when I was back home in my cage? I was glad to see the cheerful pretty face of my friend again. I explained about the method of travel, which 94 was familiar with and had experienced before. But it frowned when I mentioned Miranda and the tattoo.

“Are you sure,” it asked me? “The elephant tattoo is a known symbol of the Femdom Republic. Elephants are matriarchal; that’s why they chose that symbol. It is especially popular with FRA soldiers. She must be a soldier for the Femdom Republic, or she was at one time.”

“But why would our owner be meeting with someone from the Femdom Republic?” I asked.

“There’s a lot of intrigue back and forth,” 94 replied. “At least so I’ve been told. The General would know more. It could be that our government is trying to infiltrate the FRA and Duncan is involved somehow. The Empire loves to get its hands on FRA soldiers. Maybe this Miranda is a traitor.”

It wasn’t something I dared to ask Duncan about, and in any case I only lasted as his assistant for two more weeks, after which I was returned to the stable for regular duty as a Civil Service Whore. Soon I was too busy to think about the Femdom Republic, and I rarely got a chance to see Duncan.

My first assignment back in the stable was to a road crew. Mike dropped me off in the morning at around coffee time. I was dressed as usual in my gag and cuffs, but the road crew removed them for me. They were a big boisterous bearded bunch, hefty and hearty. The crew chief sat down on a crate and pulled out his cock, a big meaty spear. I backed down onto his lap and took him inside me while he and his crew had their coffee break. My tits flopped in front of me while I ground on his cock with my hole, working him up to a release. I was successful in getting him to pump his load up into my hole. It was my first success in what would prove to be a busy career as a Civil Service Whore. That big bearded crew chief was the one to get me started. I never learned his name. But he’s the one who broke me into my new job.

There were seven other guys in the crew, and I knew it was my duty to take care of all of them. Imagine if my former family and friends could have seen me then. Collared, branded and ringed, going from one beefy bruiser to another. Spreading my legs like a whore and taking one cock after another into my cunt. Grunting as I was pounded. Gulping as I swallowed their cum.

The boys on the crew treated me well, I must say. They were good hardworking men who just needed to let off some steam. They were appreciative of me and enjoyed my body and I actually felt like I was doing something useful and good.

At the end of my shift I had one more session with the crew chief. This time I got on my knees and put my mouth on his fat cock while he reviewed blueprints with his crew. They all ignored me while I sucked. I was just a cunt doing its job. My blonde head bobbed back and forth and I tasted his precum in my throat.

“Just a sec, boys,” he grunted. I felt his big calloused hand on the back of my head. I realized that my face was just a cum receptacle. His cock touched the back of my throat and I felt his hardness pressing my tongue. His cock twitched and he groaned, and I felt a hot spurt splash into my throat. I gulped it down, my throat rippling visibly for the guys who were watching. They could hear me gulping as I swallowed every last spurt.

When he was done my shift was over. I slid my mouth off his cock and they gagged and bound me again for pickup. I stood there waiting for Sean, with my belly and cunt full of cum.

“It was good,” the crew chief reported when Sean arrived for pickup. “The guys liked it. Not bad for an older cunt. Its a hard worker and its holes are still tight. Nice ripe tits too. Bring it back again some time.”

On the way home in my cunt cage, I was ashamed at myself for being a good cunt. What kind of woman is proud of herself for being raped by a crew of road workers? What kind of woman is pleased to bring home their cum inside her afterward? I’m not a woman, I reminded myself. I’m just a cunt and I fulfilled my purpose. That sort of made me feel better I think.

To be continued…