Chapter 17

As I sat in the passenger seat, bound and topless, I couldn’t believe that the person who was once the object of my affection had become the one to inflict such a cruel punishment on me. Tamanna, who was now acting as my mistress, had ordered me to serve as a cumbucket for the entire night. This was all because my declaration of love had been met with rejection and scorn.

The journey was nothing short of torment. With the ben-wa-ball and butt plug vibrating inside me, it was a constant reminder of my newfound role as her submissive. Each bump in the road intensified the sensation, sending waves of pain and pleasure through my body. I could feel the juices flowing from my cunt and the tightness in my anal cavity as the plugs did their work, making me squirm in my seat.

Tamanna looked at me with a smirk on her face. “Where are we going, whore?” she demanded.

I replied meekly, “No, Mistress. I do not know.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “We’re going to Angel’s Pub for the ‘Saturday Night Special’. Have you ever heard of it?”

My heart sank even further as I nodded. “Yes, Mistress. I know it well.”

“Ah, so you do. Did you also know that you used to be the CEO of your company before being reduced to this?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I felt the humiliation wash over me. “Yes, Mistress. I was demoted to a Personal Assistant to Mistress Isis, who was once my secretary. She thought I needed more training, so she had me become a Glory Hole Whore here at Angel’s. Every weekday afternoon, I serve as a mouth for men to use,” I confessed, feeling the shame burn my cheeks.

Tamanna’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “You must have an ID card then. Give it to me,” she ordered.

I looked at my purse as my hands were tied behind my head, and she fished out the ID card with a grin. It had “Angel’s Glory Hole” printed at the top, with a disgusting picture of my face smeared with cum underneath. She read the details out loud, enjoying every moment of my embarrassment.

After what felt like an eternity of driving, we arrived at the pub. Tamanna opened my door, attached the leash to my collar, and pulled me out of the car. The skimpy outfit and high heels she had me wear made it nearly impossible to walk, but I had to obey. We headed towards the back entrance.

The bouncer looked at my ID card and laughed. “Welcome, Mistress Tamanna, and welcome back, CUMBUCKET,” he said, emphasizing the degrading title.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he read the word written in bold across my chest. “As you know, I cannot walk in here,” I mumbled to Tamanna, remembering the rules of my servitude.

Tamanna only chuckled. “On your knees, then,” she said, not bothering to hide her amusement.

I obeyed immediately, my knees scraping against the ground as I followed her, feeling every inch of the rough concrete beneath me. Finally, we entered Mistress Angel’s office, the owner of the pub. She had a wicked smile on her face when she saw me. “Well, well, what do we have here?” she purred, giving my sensitive nipples a painful pinch.

While the two mistresses discussed my fate for the night, I was given earbuds to wear. The voice in them spoke to me, reaffirming my place as a dumb bimbo slut, making sure that all I could focus on was serving them. I lowered my head and began worshiping Mistress Angel’s majestic black feet, licking them as I had been instructed to do.

The pub was bustling with raucous energy as the rhythmic beats of racy music filled the air, setting the tone for a night that was about to take a dark and degrading turn. The floor was adorned with women in nothing but bikinis, their bodies on display as they catered to the predominantly black male clientele. These scantily clad females, all white, were an intentional contrast to the men they served, each wearing a uniform that marked them as submissive servants to the desires of the patrons.

Tamanna, the one in charge of my fate for the evening, led me through the crowded space to a more private corner at the back of the pub. My face was obscured by a mask that was stark white, with a crimson “Queen of Spades” emblem positioned just above my eyebrows. In a bold declaration of my role, the words “CUMBUCKET” were scrawled in vivid red letters across the fabric, just above the emblem. The mask was secured tightly in place, leaving only my mouth and nose exposed to the lewd stares of the pub’s patrons. Tamanna’s mask, however, was a cut above mine, adorned with intricate detailing that hinted at the power she held in this twisted game.

As the hours passed, Tamanna reveled in the attention she received from the men around us, while I remained kneeled, a silent spectator to her enjoyment. Despite the degradation, I remained patient, my eyes cast down in submission. It was not until Mistress Angel’s booming voice cut through the din that the true nature of the evening was revealed.

“Welcome, one and all, to our ‘Saturday Night Special’!” Mistress Angel announced, her words sending a shiver down my spine. “Tonight, we have a very special treat for you! Miss Cumbucket will be gracing us with her ... talents,” she said with a sinister smile.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the reality of the situation sank in. I was the entertainment for the night, a mere object to be used and abused for their pleasure. The leather leash attached to the collar around my neck grew taut as Tamanna pulled me to my feet, leading me to the stage with a sense of excitement that was palpable. The moment my bare feet touched the cold, wooden platform, a cacophony of humiliating comments and lewd suggestions filled the air.

I was made to stand in the center of the stage, a spotlight blinding me from above. My trembling body was exposed from the waist up, my hands bound tightly behind my back with cuffs that dug into my skin. Inside me, the ben-wa-balls in my cunt rolled with each quiver of fear, reminding me of my helplessness. The plug in my ass was a constant presence, a stark symbol of the submission and pain that was to come.