Chapter 11

I’m not sure how long I was asleep, but I woke up with a shiver to realize that I was cold and that someone was tugging on my big toe. I raised my head up enough to see Becky standing at the end of my cot, wrapped in a quilt. Damn, there were quilts? I didn’t get one.

“I’m really cold,” she said in a quiet voice. “Can I cuddle with you?”

I smiled at her and gestured with my hand for her to join me. It was a bit awkward, but I scooted back against the wall as she crawled up the cot and spooned up next to me. We worked together to get the quilt spread over us. The cot was just barely wide enough to hold us both laying our sides.

I put my arm around her and nuzzled my face into her silky blonde hair. She smelled like bubble gum ... and also cum. We all did, I guess. I brushed hair away from her neck with my free hand so I could plant a few kisses along it. Then my hand moved down and I wrapped it around one of her cute little boobies. They were B cups at most, but on her tiny frame they seemed to fit her just right. I squeezed it a few times before I used my thumb and forefinger to lightly pinch and tug on her tiny nipple.

Becky sighed in pleasure and wiggled her bottom as she pushed back against me. I cupped my hand back around her warm little tit and was asleep again before I knew it.

I woke up on my back, with Becky draped over my chest, drooling on my left tit. Her leg was thrown over mine and it felt very warm and nice under the quilt.

Of course she’s a snuggler.

I could see sunlight streaming through the partially open doors of the shipping container we were in, and a few people were moving around down at that end.

I turned towards Becky a little and scooted down some so our faces were almost even. Then I started lightly kissing her on her face, moving all around her lips, cheeks, and nose. Her eyes fluttered open and at first, she had a confused look on her face. Then she pulled her head back a little and smiled at me. Damn, she was pretty. Her eyes were sky blue and she had a few scattered freckles across her cheeks.

“Mornin’, war buddy,” she mumbled, breath kombucha-sour. Then she stuck her tongue in my mouth.

The first thing I noticed was how sore my mouth and jaw were. The second was the taste. Not the usual morning breath—this was advanced morning breath, like a raccoon died in my mouth and left a farewell gift of Dick #19’s protein-powder cum. My jaw clicked like a rusty garage door hinge when I tried to groan. How many cocks did we swallow last night? 40? 50?

Mom’s shadow loomed over us. “Adorable,” she said, voice dripping faux syrup. She tossed a bottle of Aleve and a lukewarm Evian at my chest. “Hydrate. Now.” Her lips and cheeks were still crusted with last night’s “earnings,” but she’d managed to comb her hair out somehow.

Becky stretched, the quilt slipping to reveal a hickey I didn’t remember giving her. “Glo’s my favorite pillow,” she said to Mom with a smirk.

Mom’s eye twitched. Before she could retort, Sharon kicked the container door fully open and sunlight started burning our retinas. “Rise and grind, sluts!” She hurled a McDonald’s bag at Mom’s head. “Sausage McMuffins—extra grease.”

Mom caught the bag and tossed behind her towards me and Becky. Then she marched over and got right up in Sharon’s face and jabbed a finger at the sweat-stained corset. “Where the fuck are we, Milk Jugs? This ain’t the Ritz—it’s a dumpster!”

Sharon smirked, adjusting her tit-sling. “Your cunt’s on Line 23 of my spreadsheet, bitch. So you’re right where you belong—sucking cock and making bank.” She reared back with her riding crop.

“Spreadsheet this,” Mom snarled, snatching Sharon’s riding crop mid-swing and hurling it into the woods, where it thwacked against a tree. She got nose-to-nose with Sharon, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “You wanna whip me? Put a tip jar out and call it a show. But this morning? You ain’t paid to crop my ass. So talk. Now.”

Sharon’s face flushed puce. “You ungrateful—” she screamed as she lunged forward. Mom tried to sidestep, but Sharon got her outstretched arm around her waist and the momentum sent them both crashing into the dirt just outside the container’s open doors. They rolled around in a tangle of sweat, squirts of breast milk, and the remnants of last night’s fishnet stockings.

Becky, meanwhile, leaned back into my lap and had her thumb lodged in her mouth like a pacifier. “Mmmf... drama,” she mumbled around it.

I yanked her thumb out. “Gross.”

She blinked, then dove for my tit, latching onto my nipple and swirling her tongue all around it as she sucked hard. “Mmmf... Mmmf ... Mmmf!”

“Becky—”

“Shhh, I’m moral support,” she purred, just before biting down.

Ah ... fuck ... that felt so damn good.

“You dried-up cunt!” Sharon spat, clawing at Mom’s face.

“Whore!” Mom hissed, kneeing Sharon’s ribs.

Sharon snarled, her chipped red nails snagging Mom’s hair. “I own you and your cunt!”

“You don’t own shit,” Mom screamed as she tried to headbutt the short, round blonde she was currently looming over. It didn’t appear to go quite the way she wanted, and it sounded like two coconuts being banged together. They both flopped back, momentarily stunned.

As if on cue, the passenger door of the big truck Sharon drove up in opened and a mountain-sized man stepped out, his voice a gravel pit. “Enough.” He sounded almost like that big purple guy with the glove in that comic book movie I watched when I was like 12.

Sharon recovered first and ignored the command. She stood up and wobbled over towards Mom, collapsing down on her with a whoof coming from both of them.

I watched the man frown and start walking towards them. He was wearing jeans and a Carhart shirt, along with cowboy boots that looked like they were made out of a leather that had scales. Alligator maybe? Completing the Nashville Cowboy Douche look was a big brown cowboy hat and a huge shiny belt buckle. He walked up and set his boot on the side of Sharon’s ass, then shoved her hard with it.

“I said ... Enough!”

Sharon was shoved off of Mom and rolled over several times, landing on her back. She struggled to sit up but finally did with a growl until she saw the look on the big man’s face. Almost instantly, she got a contrite look on her face. “Sorry, baby. I got carried away. It’s just that this cunt...” she started to say, pointing at Mom.

“Shut the fuck up, Sharon,” the man said, not even raising his voice. Sharon shut up. Everything was quiet for a few moments. The only sound I heard was Becky sucking on my titty like she was a starving kitten or something. It was making me horny as all fuck.

“I don’t really know what lit the fuses on your tampons, but I’m not going to abide with you bitches scrabbling around in the dirt,” said the big man. “Sharon, get your ass back in the truck,” he continued while pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

He pointed at Mom. “You ... gather up your kid and get in the back seat. Be quick about it.”

Sharon got up and dusted herself up as she walked towards the truck. Mom came over and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the cot and onto my feet. Becky grabbed my hand and followed as Mom led me out of the shipping container into the bright sunlight. I wanted to shield my eyes, but Mom had one hand gripped tight and Becky had the other.

Mom finally noticed Becky tagging along just as we reached the truck. She yanked me toward the truck’s back seat as she barked at Becky, “Let go, you little maggot!”

Becky released my hand but shot me a wink, her pigtails bouncing as she clambered into the crew cab after me. We settled into the cracked leather seats—me by the window, Becky in the middle, Mom wedged against the far door, her fishnets hissing as they brushed up against the vinyl. The big man revved the engine, and AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” started blasting through the speakers.

Becky didn’t waste time.

As the truck lurched forward, she slid off the seat and onto the floorboard, her bare feet bumping against Mom’s heels. “Road trip snack!” she announced, spreading my knees apart as wide as she could.

Mom stiffened. “What the fuck are you—”

Becky’s mouth clamped onto my slot before Mom could finish, her tongue relentless. Jesus. I grabbed her pigtails, my hips jerking as the truck hit a pothole. I slumped back in the corner of the seat and the window, pushing my pussy out towards the tiny blonde to give her better access.

“I don’t think this is the time or place for this!” Mom shouted over the music.

I bit my lip, staring straight up at the ceiling of the truck. Deny everything.

Becky’s laugh vibrated against me then she pulled her head up. “Relax, Linda! Just ... adjusting my lip gloss!” I immediately pulled her back down and felt her tongue go to work almost instantly.

Mom leaned forward, her corset creaking, but the big man’s voice cut through the noise: “Sit the fuck back! Keep you goddamn head down.”

Mom recoiled, but her eyes stayed locked on us, her corset heaving. Becky’s tongue flicked faster, her nails digging into my hips. Close. So close. The truck hit a pothole, jolting us sideways, and Becky’s nose ground against my clit. Holy shit. My back arched, toes curling in my heels—

“We’re here,” the big man snapped, slamming the brakes as he made a hard right-hand turn. We flew down a long gravel driveway.

No! No, no, no—

Becky pulled away with a wet pop, lips glistening. ”Aw, blue balls for Glo!”

The truck pulled up in front of a sprawling log cabin straight out of a Rich Asshole’s Wilderness Retreat catalog. Stone chimney, wraparound porch, solar-powered lanterns glowing along the path. So far, no murder dungeon in sight.

The big man shoved his door open. “Out. Now.”

Mom shoved the door open, dragging me out by the wrist. Becky hopped down, adjusting her fishnets. Mom followed, her heels sinking into the gravel as she continued to haul me behind her. My legs wobbled, and my cunt was still throbbing. Fuck.

The basement garage was cleaner than our shipping container—polished concrete, tool racks, a deep freezer humming in the corner. The garage door clanked shut behind us, sealing out the daylight.

Becky smirked at me. “Later on Glo, I can finish what I—”

“Stay away from her you little slut, ” Mom snarled, “I’ll whip your ass just like I did Sharon’s. Gloria is mine.”

The big man ignored us, jingling a keychain. “Heads down. Mouths shut.”

Easier said than done.

The big man led us up a flight of stairs, his boots thudding like a drumbeat, with Sharon right behind him. Mom followed, her heels clicking sharply behind him. I brought up the rear, Becky’s hand in mine—her touch grounding me as my thighs throbbed with unspent tension.

The house was a maze of polished wood and taxidermy—deer heads staring blankly, antlers adorning every wall. A chandelier made of deer antlers cast eerie shadows as we passed through a foyer.

“Nice place,” Becky whispered, squeezing my hand. “I wonder if he has a dungeon.”

Mom shot her a glare. “Shut up, Becky.”

The big man led us down a narrow hallway, his steps echoing ominously. He pushed open a heavy door to reveal an office—mahogany desk, leather couch, walls lined with bookshelves stuffed with leather-bound tomes. A massive desk chair sat behind the desk, looking like a throne.

“This is a nude house, so strip,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Everything off. Pile it by the door.”

Mom hesitated for a moment before complying, her corset unlacing as she gave a sigh of relief. Becky, Sharon, and I followed suit, our fishnets and heels joining the growing pile. The big man watched, his eyes roaming over our bodies with a mix of appraisal and ownership.

“Now, sit,” he said, gesturing towards the leather couch.

We sat, our naked bodies pressing together. Becky in the middle, Mom on one side, and me on the other. The leather was cold against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

The big man stripped down to his boxers, revealing a body chiseled from granite—muscles rippling, tattoos snaking down his arms and across his chest. He sat in the desk chair, leaning back with a sigh of satisfaction. “Ahh. I like to stay in boxers when I’m sitting on leather.”

“Sharon,” he barked, “lunch.”

Sharon, who had been standing by the door, rolled her eyes but complied, slipping out of the room with a huff.

The very scary man turned his chair until he was facing us on the couch, then frowned and rolled his eyes. “Becky, get your ass over here. You think this cock is going to suck itself?

Becky didn’t waste a second. “Yes, Daddy,” she said quietly as she slid off the couch and onto her knees, crawling towards his chair. Her blonde pigtails swung as she fished his cock out of his boxers, pulling it towards her lips so she could swirl her tongue around the tip.

For the next few minutes, no one said anything. The only sound was Becky slurping and sucking on what was apparently her Daddy’s cock. Mom and I kept glancing at each other, eyes widening a little. I was still so fucking turned on, I almost started stroking my pussy right there on the couch, but instead I just watched Becky, wishing it was my clit she was sucking on.

Finally, he pulled Becky’s pigtails really hard and bucked up off the seat several times. “Oh fuck ... yeah ... swallow Daddy’s load baby,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice as Becky kept her face buried in his pubes.

When he was finished, he gave her a quick rub on top of her head before Becky leaned back, sitting on her heels. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand then scooted back a little so she was beside his chair and facing us. She winked at me and stuck her tongue out far enough to show me all the cum still coating it.

The cowboy man reached over and stroked Becky’s head again, a very satisfied smile on his face. “Becky is a free-use slut, so anyone in the house can do whatever they want with her, right baby?”

Becky pulled her tongue in and swallowed before she smiled up at him and said, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Growing up in this house, Becky has been very well trained. We’ve had offers to sell her to a prince in Saudi, but I’m holding on to her for now. She’s made her Mommy and Daddy a shit ton of money so far. Just like I know you cunts will ... eventually.”

Mom and I just stared at him.

“So, I know you have questions, but I’ve heard them all before so I’ll go over the most common ones. My name is John and I run this show. You’ve met my partner Sharon and my daughter Becky. We run a business that ... uh ... creatively sells access to all three of your holes that a man can slide his cock into. You’ve seen one aspect, the Glory Hole Gala, but you haven’t seen the others yet.” It was kind of weird that his accent and speaking mannerisms were different now.

He turned his chair slightly so he was facing the desk, where he tapped some keys on the laptop sitting there. Then he spun it around to face me and Mom. “As you can see from this contract I took out on the dark web, I’ve rented you two sluts for 48 hours starting at 6pm yesterday evening. As per the contract, I get complete access to Linda’s holes for the duration. For Gloria, I’m only given complete access to your mouth, but oral access to the others. Got it?”

Mom and I glanced at each other before we nodded at him.

He tapped some more buttons and a wide screen TV on the wall behind him lit up. Immediately we could see raw footage from a high rez camera pointed at the dual booth Mom and I had spent our last shift in together. It was a split screen, showing the front area of the cube on one side and a closeup of our faces and the hole in the glass on the other. Mom was deep-throating a cock while I had the guy’s balls in one hand, slurping my tongue all around them.

As we watched, John kept talking, like he was reading a report John tapped some more buttons, and the screen displayed a detailed spreadsheet with timestamps, names, and explicit details. He turned to face us, his expression serious and business-like.

“Let’s break down the statistics from your shift,” he began, his voice calm and authoritative. “You were both in separate glory hole cubicles for the first three hours. During this time, Linda serviced a total of eighteen clients. Notes indicate that you, Linda, could improve on your deep-throating technique to increase client satisfaction. A couple of clients complained about your teeth. Your average client satisfaction score was 7.2 out of 10. Your mean cum time was approximately 6 minutes and 15 seconds. You serviced about one cock every 10 minutes, which isn’t terrible for your first time. We’d prefer you get at least 20 when you’re by yourself on a shirt. Becky got 22 that first three hours.” He smiled over at her again and Becky beamed a smile back up at him.

Mom shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Gloria,” he continued, “you handled twelve clients in your cubicle. Your performance was noted as ‘adequate,’ but there is room for improvement in your enthusiasm and creativity. Some clients mentioned they would have liked more variety in your techniques. Your average client satisfaction score was 6.2 out of 10. Your mean cum time was approximately 8 minutes and 45 seconds. Really though, you were only servicing one cock every 15 minutes. Way too slow.”

He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing.

“For the next three hours, you were both in the same cubicle. Together, you serviced an additional thirty clients. This brought your total to seventy-four clients between the two of you. During this time, your teamwork was noted as ‘acceptable,’ but there were complaints about the lack of coordination and communication between you two. Clients often felt neglected when one of you was focused on the other. Your combined average client satisfaction score for the shared cubicle time was 7.3 out of 10. The mean cum time for clients serviced together was approximately 6 minutes.”

John leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the spreadsheet. “Overall, your performance was satisfactory, but there are clear areas for improvement. I expect better coordination, more enthusiasm, and a greater variety of techniques moving forward. Your combined average client satisfaction score for the entire shift was 6.7 out of 10, which is below the desired threshold of 7.5. I will be monitoring your progress closely to ensure that these issues are addressed.”