Tags: anal, bar, doctor doctor, drugs, gangbang, gaslighting, I have no name, MMME, non-con, oral, the real villain is capitalism, they protagonist, wet and messy
I really don't prefer guys so the deal I make with the bartender is that I'll suck anybody and everybody but I won't swallow. All cum needs to be deposited into this one beer glass.
And the guys are all really good about it. They pull out right before they cum... mostly.
I mean, maybe one or two wait until after the first spurts to pull out
... maybe more than one or two.I keep the glass close to me so they don't have far to go when they start spraying - their balls contracting and releasing as they each make their contributions. It's kind of amazing to watch, in a disgusting weird sort of way.
Because I'm afraid of getting robbed, the bartender, Kade, takes their money for me and stores it behind the bar. It's tips only, so I never know what they're paying. Probly not a lot, tonight, since so many of them are talking about what a bad job I'm doing while their dicks are in my mouth.
"They're a dyke, give them a break" says Kade.
"No wonder," says my current trick. "If I wasn't already blasted I'd just do this myself but *grunt* at least it's hot and wet in here."
It's been what, thirty guys? Forty? I don't try to keep track; it takes too much concentration. The beer glass is still only about half full. I look hopefully at Kade but he shakes his head. I haven't made enough money yet to stop.
Someone asks what the money is for. "For charity", he says, like always.
He doesn't explain that the charity is me.
That I accidentally crashed into his delivery truck a while back and broke a whole shipment of kegs. That I agreed with him that I didn't want our insurances involved and that I should be eager to work something out just between us.
And this was his proposal. I could work off my debt doing ... this ... thereby increasing the attendance at his bar ... for as long as it took to make up the loss. It's a pretty good deal since I can take home as much of the tips money as I want each night, ... but then that money doesn't get put toward the debt marker so I have to really watch and only take a little.
Tonight, I haven't even hit the pay-to-play minimum yet.
Which is why I'm letting this new guy bend the rules a bit. He's getting close and he tells me he'll pay more if I let him keep just the head in while he gets off and keep tonguing the tip. That I don't have to swallow it, I can just show it to him after he's done and then spit it in the glass. Before I can even respond he starts spilling. I quickly move back so just the tip is in and wrap my lips tight around it, tonguing fast while he jerks it. The taste floods my mouth. Thick and sugary sweet. I'm glad. Sometimes it's really bitter, or watery. But it's not like I can pretend it's icing or something.
When the pulsing stops, he pulls out and tilts my head up. I open my mouth so he can see how much he gave me. He calls me a good little dyke whore and hands me the beer glass. I drool it all in, adding as much of my spit as I can to up the volume. He hands Kade a wad of bills and high-fives his buddy three down in the line.
Honestly? The best thing for washing out the taste of cum is getting the next guy's dick in as quick as I can.
Last week, I asked how much I still owed so I could get a better idea of how much more I'll have to work to clear the balance, and Kade said something about needing to check the books and he'd get back to me?
Tonight, before I got started he looked real apologetic and said he thought there was still a long way to go. He didn't want to give me an exact number though, because he said he was feeling charitable and didn't want me to worry too much.
He says he likes me and he has some ideas of things I could do to take the debt down faster. I'm really lucky he is such a kind and accommodating guy.
He's honestly very supportive. When I said I didn't want to swallow, he was disappointed, obviously, but he said okay. And he helps enforce that rule. He booted a guy just the other day who came down my throat without warning; just grabbed my head so I couldn't get away and let go. That guy - and the others who have done it - haven't been welcome back.
And, get this, the bartender was super nice. When that booted guy waited for me in the alley afterwards and raped me to take out his frustration, Kade gave me the next night off.
He walks me to my car every time now.
Anyway, that beer glass isn't gonna fill itself, so now that my new trick has pulled out to stroke and add his wad to the collection, I'm ready to take the next one.
And the next.
And the next.
At some point later on in the night, Kade gives me the tap on the shoulder. That means he's made book and my tips are now not required to go towards tonight's minimum.
I'm so happy!! I want to celebrate.
A guy wants to buy me a drink. Usually I have to say no because it makes me less coherent. I get lazy and less on task at finishing them off when I'm drinking. I really shouldn't drink on the job.
But this guy is a regular I think? He's having a quiet conversation with the bartender. Gesturing at me, his three friends, the bar, the bartender, the glass, ... I can't hear what they're saying over the guy moaning in front of me.
They go back and forth a couple times, but the upshot is that I'm allowed to have a drink!
Kade pulls out a frozen mix I haven't seen before from the mini fridge and adds soda to it. Awww! I'm so grateful this guy and his friends offered to pay for a celebration fancy drink for me!
It's fruity and really heavy on the grain alcohol.
It makes me kinda blurry REAL fast. I'm so so so grateful. Getting to be kinda out of it for the last leg of the night is such a treat.
So nice bartender.
Kade is the BEST.
I wake up. Headache. Cramped muscles. Sore in weird places. Where am I?
On a bed. Not mine. My bartender friender ... barfriender Ha! OW HEADACHE is walking over to me carrying a breakfast tray.
He asks me how I'm feeling. Says I've developed a fever and wasn't safe to drive last night.
That he was really worried when I started hallucinating things so he took the keys away.
He says the fever broke, but that he's going to keep me at his place for a bit to make sure I don't have more of those debilitating hallucinations. A doctor friend of his is on the way to give me a checkup. Oh my God he's so kind to me.
He even apologizes. He says maybe I caught the sickness from doing all that cocksucking. I want to tell him there's no need to apologize, that there's no way he could have prevented that, but when I try to speak my mouth is fuzzy fluffy and I can't really form words. They're in my head, I just can't make them come out of my mouth.
I must still be sick.
He looks sympathy at me and hands me the tall water glass. I take a small sip and then drink and drink and drink and in no time I've emptied it. "That'll help with your head" he says.
I look down. I'm wearing his clothes - a button down flannel shirt and a pair of boxers and nothing else on my legs under the blanket.
And my hair is wet. Did I take a shower? Just then I get this flash in my head: Me slumped over in a shower, not my shower, arms and legs not cooperating. A detachable showerhead directing the water onto my crotch. Someone standing over to the side saying, "Yes, aaaaall the evidence. down the drain."
I drop the empty water glass onto the bed. I am so happy it was only onto the cushioned bedclothes. I would have been so mad at myself for breaking it. I can be so clumsy sometimes.
Kade lifts up my chin and stares into my eyes critically. He peels the eyelids down one at a time. "It looks like the hallucinations haven't totally gone away yet. You just see something?"
I try to say "yes", but can't, so I nod my head. I touch my hair and look questioningly at him.
"Poor thing, you got really sick all over. I didn't mind putting you up, but I wasn't gonna do it with you in that state. Hope you don't mind the change of outfit. Yours is still in the dryer."
Oh my God I must have ruined his bar floor or something. I'm trying to remem-- I'm gurgling, coughing, my throat pushing cum up around the cock lodged in it, but worse than being unable to breathe is the pain in my ass. I feel like I'm being stretched so very very far. I try to turn around to see what's happening to me but the one fucking my face won't let me turn while he's still cumming. I hear a long moan from behind me followed by a string of curse words and then the pain in my ass turns to a burning sensation. As I start to black out from lack of air, I'm resolving that I'm going to run.
Kade is shaking my shoulder gently and saying my name over and over. "Hey. HEY. You in there? Don't get caught up in those hallucinations, okay? It sounds like your brain made up some really scary things to show you, but don't you believe it."
I see the keychain on his belt loop. The keychain I've seen him use a hundred times to lock up the bar for the night. The keychain that was rhythmically hitting my cheek in that hallucination while he fucked his load down my throat.
Oh my God I've got a secret crush on the bartender. How the fuck did that happen.
I look down. My body has Opinions about that hallucination and I'm blushing SO HARD because I'm getting wet all over the boxers he so kindly loaned me. I cross my legs and try to cover up even more.
His face turns sheepish. "Look, I had a friend who had this thing once. They call it Wet Fever. He had a terrible time of it. But he told me how it is. I get it. The hallucinations show you what you most want, even if you don't know it, and they try to convince you to obsess over it, you know? If you don't get it treated, you end up seeing those things over and over increasingly convinced you should go after those desires. You have to do your best not to think about them."
I nod my head, so, so grateful that he isn't upset with me.
He reaches toward me and I think he's going to pat my head but he picks up the glass to put it back on the tray and--- the glass. Now entirely full of cum. Someone is holding it above me, tipping, tipping, pouring out its contents while two others are holding my jaws open and I can't avoid getting it all in my mouth. I'm on the floor which is filthy with ooze. There is a deafening noise of men cheering. I'm trying to gulp down as much as I can as fast as I can so I don't choke but my brain is screaming. Someone to my right is jerking off onto my bare chest. Someone else is pushing between my legs. I'm panicking trying to find where Kade is but someone is holding my hair and I can't turn my head to see. Have to find him. He will save me. He will...
I'm shaken back to sanity again, but this time by someone else. A white coat, a concerned look. He gently peels my hands out of my crotch and looks embarrassed enough for both of us. The doctor has come, just as Kade said.
He gives me a full examination. Heart good. Lungs good. Fever only slight now. He insists on doing a pelvic exam as well and asks me if it hurts when he touches various places. The answer over and over again is 'yes'; I am very sore. But some places also feel good when he rubs them and when he asks about that I tell him so.
He reports that while touching myself is normal, I shouldn't do it so much as I have been. That I will probably have some pain as a consequence but that it will go away over time. I basically die of embarrassment.
Then he asks me about the hallucinations. I still can't make words happen, but I nod when he asks if they are "of a sexual nature" and if they're particularly violent or crude, and if they involve both strangers and people I know. "Classic Wet Fever," he says.
The whole exam - the interview too - is happening in front of my bartender friend. I was so worried Kade would be scandalized, but his face is only concern. And now that I think about it that feels right. If he's paying the doctor to make a house call and come all this way, he deserves to know everything. How else is he going to take care of me?
He and the doctor step away. They have an extended conversation and I see the doctor hand him a packet of pills -- pills going into the mouths of the men who are fucking me. Capsules being opened so the powder dusts my tongue. Capsules passed to me through the tongue of this stranger kissing me, pawing me, hitching my leg higher so he can get more of his length inside me. Brown curls and a butterfly tattoo on his wrist...
The doctor is coming over "... one, three times a day for pain and to control the hallucinations. Don't miss a dose or we'll have to start the regimen over. They have a strong fatigue side effect, but I think we're all agreed that's preferable to this sickness getting worse."
And other side effects, apparently, with complicated names I don't know. Something about increased libido, I know what that means. And increased mucosal production? Whatever. My head hurts too much.
My bartender friend is reassuring the doctor. No he will make sure I don't endanger people by getting behind the wheel while in treatment. Yes he will make sure I get the pills on schedule. No he is not worried about what I might say or do under the influence of the pills. He took care of me last night, after all, and will continue to do so.
The doctor gives me one more look over, and then offers to shake my hand. Says he'll be back to check up on me in a little while and not to worry about anything in the meantime. But I can't shake his hand. I'm mortified at doing so after I know where my fingers have just been. But seeing as how his have also just been there during the exam I guess I shouldn't be so rude to leave his hand just hanging there.
We shake and the sleeve of his white white coat rides up on his arm, showing a colorful bright butterfly tattoo.
His smile is so reassuring. I'm sure I'll be better soon.
Kade suggests I take the first dose now. And the doctor thinks he should stay, just for a little while, just to see that the medication is agreeing with me. He seats himself in the chair opposite the bed and folds his hands in his lap. My bartender friend puts the first pill in my mouth and gently, kindly, encourages me,