Downtown free porn video

Downtown By Snow Girl This contains mentally explicit material. If you shouldn't be reading it, stop now. May be freely reposted to any free archive service. Everyone still reading, enjoy... Jim Madsen strolled off the elevator and into his office at a little past nine on Monday morning. As the chief sales executive of Titan Technologies, he didn't need to be in the office first thing Monday after a busy weekend, but he liked to put forward a good show for the troops. Jim was the most successful salesman that Titan Technologies had ever employed - last week alone he had sold more software than all the other sales people had sold in a month. Tall and well built, he radiated confidence and success. 'Morning, Mr. Barton.' That was Alison, his secretary. As good as he was, Jim would be nowhere without his secretary. She organized his schedule, tracked his phone calls, made damn good coffee, and had even picked up enough of his spiel to placate the upset customers that called. It didn't hurt that she was also a bombshell... medium height with dark hair and green eyes and cheekbones as wide as the arctic plains. This morning she wore a red suit that professionally hugged every curve, her bare legs tapering down to a pair of three-inch red velvet heels. If her smile couldn't stop men dead in their tracks, her perfectly rounded hips and perfectly curved legs would. And if she wasn't the best secretary Jim had ever had, he would have put moves on her like a jungle cat stalking its prey. 'Morning, Alison.' Too bad she never finished her college degree, Jim thought, because she'd make a heck of a saleswoman and in that red skirt alone would give me a run for my money. Once my promotion to management is formalized, I'll have to look in to giving her a break. Jim walked into his office and dropping his briefcase on his desk, absently took a mug of coffee that was waiting there for him. The sharp, bitter taste told him without looking that Marissa had made the coffee this morning. Marissa was the dark specter of the office; this morning dressed in a stern black suit with pantyhose the color of charcoal. She was a saleswoman, and she had the knack for it, but she could never put up the numbers that Jim did. It wasn't for lack of trying; she just never warmed up to the customers. Underneath her severe clothes, her body could be quite sexy, Jim imagined, and perhaps that's why she tried so hard to hide it so. This was a man's industry still, and Marissa had a sharp mind. Sharp enough to understand that given a sharp mind and a short skirt to close a sale, it's the latter that really does it. The sales meeting was the same as it always was. 'Jim, nice job. Everybody else, work harder.' MicroTech is on the verge of rolling out a smart searching database that increased the relevance of returned search results by eighty percent - a real breakthrough. Jim walked back to his office after the meeting and hung up his gray Armani jacket. Alison walked in with a fresh cup of coffee. 'Sorry about this morning, Marissa got to the coffee pot first.' 'Don't worry about it, Alison. Marissa brought me a cup, too. If it didn't taste so damn awful, I'd have thought she was trying to make some friends around here.' Jim sat down to type up some notes on his new sales pitch. There'd be plenty of time this afternoon to make phone calls. Perhaps he'd even let Alison make some. There's some clients who'll buy our new search engine no questions asked, and she could use the experience. When it started, Jim didn't notice it at all. In the dark, under his oak desk, hidden by the modesty panel, his black Gucci loafers shifted for lack of a better word. Over the course of an hour, his black loafers slowly morphed into a slightly smaller, more rounded shoe, with a silver accented buckle. On his way out to lunch, Marissa bumped into him, dropping a folder full of papers. Jim bent down to help her pick them up, 'Sorry, Marissa, guess I wasn't watching where I was going.' 'Nice shoes,' she grinned back at him. 'Where'd you get them?' Jim stood up and looked at his shoes with their delicate silver buckle. He lifted up one of his pants legs to take a better look. Where did he get them? The suit came from the Armani store; the tie was Ungaro, the socks from Bloomingdales, but the shoes? They didn't look familiar at all. He tried, but his mind kept drawing a blank. Every time he thought about the shoes, his mind just seemed to blank out... where did he get... 'Hey, don't block the doorway, asshole!' Someone bumped into him again, another salesman rushing for the elevators, and Jim realized that he had no idea how long he had been standing there, pants hiked up, staring at his shoes. He shrugged it off, and went for lunch. The afternoon passed quickly. Marissa came in to discuss some of the new product features, but to Jim the meeting was a blur. 'I wonder if she's up to something,' Jim thought. He wasn't worried about Marissa overtaking his sales numbers, and if she wanted to act a little friendly, then good for her. Besides, all he could remember about the meeting was a silver charm that hung on a necklace, around Marissa's delicate neck, falling between her rounded breasts. The charm was so shiny, so intricate, just following the silver curves seemed to envelop him, draw him in... From there, the rest of the day passed in a haze, and in the middle of calls to his clients, Jim's mind would drift back to that necklace and his mind would get lost thinking about it's intricate curves. At five o'clock, he called it a day, waved goodbye to his secretary, and headed to his home on the upper west side. It was early, but the subway was crowded. The subway lurched to a stop and Jim stumbled forward, bumping into a burly man in a suit. Usually, Jim didn't have to grab onto the straps, he could push one hand against the ceiling to brace himself against the subway's jerking, but today his fingertips barely grazed the ceiling of the train car. He looked down at his loafers, which had a one and a half inch heel, which should have given him enough lift to reach the ceiling. 'Maybe it's just these new shoes that I'm not used to,' Jim thought, and the more he thought about it, he had these shoes for a while... maybe he couldn't have always touched the ceiling... maybe if I had four or five inch... but his mind drifted away into emptiness at that thought and he almost missed his stop. Dinner at home was a salad, lighter than usual, and tonight he decided to skip the gym. There was a ballgame on, and if his head was getting fuzzy, he didn't want to overexert himself and get sick. Jim kicked his loafers off and placed them in the closet. These were his favorite shoes; so comfortable he could wear them all day long. His suit got hung up, his socks rolled down off his calves. Funny again, he thought, I thought I wore plain black socks, and these have a mild paisley print. I wonder where they... but again he drifted off. He peeled off his jockey underwear and put them in the laundry basket where they were the only pair of bikini shorts in a hamper full of boxers. Must be time to get some new underwear, Jim thought. Sleep that night was troublesome, and he tossed and turned all night long. Marissa was there, standing at the end of the subway platform, and Jim had to walk toward her. Walking was awkward because his legs could barely move, they felt like they were tied together and he had to hobble forward or lose his balance. He swayed back and forth on the platform, and when he finally reached Marissa, she clasped a silver band around his wrist, a wrist much thinner than his wrist normally was, and with that band, panic rose in Jim. He was being taken somewhere, somewhere where he would have to... He woke with a start, not remembering any of his dreams, but with a lingering feeling of unease. Breakfast was a bowl of cereal with skim milk. Jim's mind felt a million miles away. 'Boy, I slept horribly last night, it'll be good to get into the office and grab some coffee.' He pulled on another pair of black silk bikini underpants, then he carefully bunched up a pair of socks and one at a time, slowly unrolled them up his calf. Then he looked at his closet. Today, the navy blue suit, pale blue shirt, and solid tie. He laced up a pair of Brooks Brothers loafers and appraised himself in the mirror. Looking like a million bucks, Jim headed back into the office. The coffee was bitter again, and Marissa was smiling. Something about that smile made Jim uneasy, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She looked fantastic in a tight black suit, with long legs encased in black pantyhose. Jim wondered if her elegant heels came from Nine West. 'Do you like my suit, Jim,' Marissa asked. Yes, he did, but Jim wanted to ask her about her shoes. 'Where did you get those...' was all he got out before his mind drifted off when he spotted that pendant hanging between her breasts. Marissa handed him a cup of coffee that he absently sipped. 'The shoes? Why they're from Bloomingdales, how nice of you to notice, Jim.' Marissa walked Jim into his office. 'Perhaps someday I'll take you shopping for a pair of your own.' Once he got into his office, the changes began again. So slow, so unnoticeable as reality slightly shifted about him, Jim's lace up loafers became a pair of women's pumps with a two-inch heel. Throughout the morning, his dark socks lightened into a translucent nylon, and even his suit pants rounded out a bit. They were still wool, and still sharply creased, but fit a little looser. Jim buzzed his desk intercom. 'Alison, can you come in here, please.' As usual, she looked smashing in a fuchsia blouse, black skirt, black tights, and heels. 'Nice manicure, boss.' Jim looked down at his nails, which were quite nicely rounded off to a quarter inch and glazed with a lacquer. His mind was taken by surprise but his mouth smoothly kicked in with his best salesman charm. 'I had them done over the weekend.' Jim's mouth went on to describe the ins and outs of a manicure at the mall that his mind couldn't remember getting at all. In fact, the dainty nails looked downright out of place coming out of Jim's suit. He blinked a couple of times and looked at Alison again. 'Do they look alright? I mean, there's nothing odd about them, is there.' 'The only odd thing is that we were supposed to go get our nails done together sometime this week. You said you had something to talk about, and you offered to do it over a manicure.' Somewhere, Jim's mind recalled a plan to get manicures with Alison and talk to her about picking up some of his sales work. Alison looked a little upset that he had broken this promise that he didn't remember making. He got up and walked around his desk, noticing a scuff mark on the tip of his navy blue pump. Time to get these polished, he thought, before sitting down on the couch next to Alison and crossing his legs. 'Alison, you're a terrific secretary, and I'd hate to lose you, but how would you like to move into sales?' At home that night, Jim kicked off his pumps, rolled off his nylons, and decided to go for a jog. He pulled on a pair of pink-accented Nike running shoes and his favorite spandex shorts. As he stretched out, he noticed that his legs were hairless. That's odd, he thought, but he couldn't remember is he shaved his legs regularly or not. That night, Jim had the same dream, but worse. He was still hobbling off balance down the subway platform, toward a malignantly grinning Marissa, but he couldn't breathe. Every step gave a resounding CLICK as a heel hit the pavement, and the shoes must be painfully high because his feet ached with every step. The next day at work, the changes came faster but just as unnoticeable to Jim or anyone around him. By lunchtime, his new loafers had crept up into a three-inch heel. His pants rounded out into women's trousers. His socks slid up to mid-thigh and melted into lace-topped thigh highs, his silk bikini briefs crept slowly between his buttocks into a thong. His shirt slipped outside of his trousers and slowly melted from blue into pink, pink enough to match the pale rose color on his fingernails. Jim stood up, a full six inches shorter than he was that morning, and knew something was wrong, but couldn't put his finger on it. At that moment, Marissa walked in wearing a slate-gray suit with matching stockings. She shut the door behind her and sauntered over to Jim's desk. Slowly, sexily, she slid up onto Jim's desk and demurely crossed her legs. Jim could see the lacy tops of her garters when her miniskirt slid up her leg. Marissa took one three inch, t-strapped heel and gently pushed Jim's chair away from his desk. Her stockings were so smooth, so silky, but Jim's eyes were locked on Marissa's medallion. He stared at the silver metal for an eternity, while Marissa seemed to softly chant something. Then she slipped off the desk and pulled a little vial out of her suit. Opening Jim's mouth with a finely manicured hand, she emptied the vial into his mouth. The taste was bitter, but passed quickly. Jim opened his eyes back up to see Marissa leaving and Alison walking in, more buxom than she was yesterday, wearing a pale purple skirt with matching tights. 'Too bad you didn't get that sale, Jimmy. It's a good thing Marissa was there to close the deal.' Lost what sale? Jimmy? Jim's mind reeled. He could remember a deal that was shaky, but the client had a real hard-on for Jim's sexy legs. Jimmy thought he could close the deal, but in a meeting with the client he mixed up all his facts and didn't have any research materials to back himself up. He almost blew the sale until Marissa came in to save it. Like a kitten, Alison curled up in Jimmy's lap and gently licked his ear. 'Mmmm... it won't be so bad if you get demoted back to the secretarial pool, Jimmy. We can have our lunch hour trysts again.' Jimmy had never felt so aroused; his whole body was shaking with lust. One hand shot between Alison's legs and he rubbed her clitoris through her tights. She shivered in ecstasy and rubbed her ass against Jimmy's crotch. Silently, they dry-humped each other, rubbing and rubbing, the chair squeaking as it rocked back and forth under them, their breath coming in ragged gasps and stifled moans until Jimmy came first. Shuddering, he bit Alison's neck and pushed on her clitoris until she had to bite his neck back to stifle her scream. Jimmy remembered now how they used to do this every lunch (did they?) before Marissa promoted him to sales. Marissa thought he'd be good at it, but Jimmy had struggled since day one (but how could he have struggled, he was the sales leader, wasn't he?). Alison stood up and readjusted your skirt, kissed Jimmy on the cheek. 'I wish we had taken more advantage of this private office.' As Alison walks out, Jimmy notices the dampness in his crotch. Pulling his pants down, he sees the cum staining the front of his thong. Looking around his office, Jimmy noted it was a good thing he picked up his dry cleaning on his way into work. Pulling off his pants and slipping out of his thong, he grabs some tissues to clean himself up. He is about to wipe his cum out of his neatly trimmed bush, when he gets curious. He runs a finger through his bush and gently tastes it... the salty, sweaty taste... he runs his finger through again and licks it clean. His tiny cock is barely visible, only two slim inches long. Good, then, I can get through the day without panties if I wear a skirt. Standing in the middle of his office in his three-inch heels and thigh-high nylons, Jimmy pulls a black skirt with a floral pattern out of the dry cleaning bag and pulls it up over his rounded hips. It falls neatly to just above the knee, and Jimmy twirls around to admire it. Beautful. Riding the subway home, his oversized purse full of work he needs to catch up on, a beefy man in a pair of khakis offers him a seat on the subway. Jimmy smiles quickly and sits down, wondering when he had last slid on some lipstick. A lock of hair fell into his face, and Jim pushed it back behind his ear with an exasperated sigh. He really wanted to get it cut, but his stylist really wanted Jim to grow his hair out. Maybe Sheila can take me later this week and shape it a little bit... The subway jerked to a halt and the lock of hair fell into his face again. This time, the man with the khakis reached out and brushed it back. The touch was electric. The finger rubbing across his forehead, the brashness, the forwardness, the boldness of the gesture sent electric shocks down his spine and made his nipples stand on end. Jim reflexively hugged his jacket a little closer. Taking a second to draw up some courage, he looked up and saw an attractive man in his mid-thirties, with two days of stubble and a broad chest. The train stopped and with a madly beating heart, Jim stood up to go. The man with the khakis smiled. 'You're very pretty,' he said. Jim stood next to the man, so close he could smell the musky aftershave, so close he noticed the top of his head barely came up to the mans shoulders, even with his three inch pumps on. 'Thanks. See you again,' Jim said. His apartment was the same, but different. Flowers on the kitchen table. A framed photo of a ballerina where the photo of the New York City skyline used to be. A copy of Cosmo and Women's Health on top of the Sports Illustrated. It feels so good to kick these babies off, Jim thought, as he kicked his pumps into the closet. He flexed his nylon-encased feet and felt the carpet underneath his silky thigh highs as his calves relaxed and relief swept slowly up his legs. These pumps look so good, and I love the height they give me, but damn do they hurt after a while. A quick look at the clock told him that he missed his aerobics class at the gym, so it'd be another night of exercise at home. He opened up the workout drawer and pulled out the thong leotard he would never wear to the gym. It was a wild, floral green print, too attention getting to wear when he felt like seriously working out, but at home, with the green, ribbed spandex shorts, he was something to look at. After forty-five minutes of 'Buns Of Steel,' Jim had enough exercise for the night. He ordered some steamed broccoli with brown rice and got into the shower. All thoughts of work vanished as he slid his hands between his legs. His cock was so small it almost disappeared into his pubic hair. He gently started rubbing his hand in circles, and his other hand crept up to his chest. His nipples sent waves of electricity washing through his body. Jim groaned with the waves of pleasure, and suddenly thought of the man in the subway. He thought of his broad chest and thick arms wrapped around him.... A huge, throbbing cock waiting for his lips, his mouth... and then Jim came so hard he collapsed against the wall of the shower gasping for breath. His dream that night was the same. Five inch heels with straps that wrapped up his leg to the knee, like Roman sandals. Toenails painted bright red. Black lycra miniskirt. And a leather band tied to each ankle with six inches of slack, so he could only take the most hobbled steps. He woke with a start. Taking a quick shower, he examined himself closely. Something didn't seem right about his body, but every time he really tried to think about it, his mind went blank. He seemed shorter, his chest seemed less broad, his nipples seemed bigger, his skin seemed smoother, but to some part of his mind, it was always that way. He pulled an olive colored suit out of his closet and laid it out on the satiny sheets on his bed. Jim pulled a camisole over his head as he pondered what to wear that day. The olive suit always makes me feel good, with the dark skirt that falls to the knee, olive hose, and...in the bottom of his closet, he looked at his shoes. Pumps, a pair of sandals, loafers with heels, a pair of strappy stiletto heels, women's shoes. Women's shoes? Why would I have all these...where are my suit shoes...why are these heels so high... and his thoughts trailed off. In the back of the closet, Jim found one pair of flats. These will work, then tonight, it's off to the stores and I'll get some more men's shoes. Marissa was waiting for him inside her office, waiting to go over some details for the new sales pitch. Dammit! Jim panicked, he was supposed to have her reports typed up and he'd totally forgotten! How could he have forgotten to do that, Marissa is the company sales leader and she was counting on me, and now there's going to be no way she'll promote me up to a sales position. The intercom on Jim's secretary's desk buzzed. 'Stephanie, could you come in her please.' Jim wanted to sob, how could he have been so air headed, so stupid, he had worked so hard to be a good secretary, and now he had just blown his big chance. It'd probably be back to the secretarial pool and he'd have to work for some lecherous old coot and it wasn't fair, he was a good secretary, Jim sobbed to himself. 'Now, Stephanie. I need to talk to you,' Marissa buzzed again. Jim tried to compose himself. He looked down at his cleavage revealing blouse and his olive suit. This is my power suit, Jim sobbed, if I was working for some old coot I could charm my way out of this, but that damn Marissa was so frigid that the sexiest of suits just made her even colder. Quickly checking his mascara, he did his best to hold his head high and walked in to Marissa's office. Jim walked in with as much force as he could muster. I wish I'd worn my Blahnik heels with the ankle strap, he thought, those always make me feel powerful. Marissa was behind her desk, and she looked like a whole new woman. She wore a sleeveless bodysuit that magnified her gorgeous breasts. Her black hair was swept up into a tight twist, red lipstick, and dark eye shadow. She looked like a dark goddess of sexuality, and her frigid demeanor made her all the more imposing. Her necklace with its hypnotic silver pendant glinted in the sunlight. Marissa looked at Jim staring raptly at her necklace, and she smiled a thin, bloodless smile. Her hand crept slowly up her chest, and when her fingers touched the pendant, the fog in Jim's mind cleared. He stood facing Marissa in what used to be his office. It was like being snapped out of a strange dream to find yourself in a stranger one. Jim's head felt clear, but everything else felt different. Funny, those shelves with my sales trophies look like they're up higher now, was his first thought. The cool nylon that hugged every inch of his legs got his attention next, and what he saw when he looked down shocked him and made his blood run cold. The first thing he saw was his cleavage (cleavage?)... there was no denying it, that odd weight on his chest was a pair of perfectly rounded tits, and those were his hips, and those were his legs in those opaque olive tights that slid into a pair of flats. He was a woman, but how? And the office, his office, was different. Everything was up higher, the trophies had Marissa's name on it, not his... 'Earth tones suit you,' purred Marissa. She was dressed sexier than he had ever seen her, and he felt a dampness in his crotch... dampness? My cock? He realized it was gone, and the fear charged him up more, his nipples stood erect... 'What have you done to me?' 'Just making some improvements to your taste. If you were in sales, that'd be a very appropriate suit. You, however, are now a secretary, and a very bad one at that, so let's make some adjustments,' Marissa said. She made a fist around the pendant, and Jim felt the world lurch sideways and forward and backward at the same time. His suit jacket and skirt melted into a shiny, coppery colored sleeveless dress with a maroon flower pattern. He had to brush his growing hair out of his eyes to watch his flats melt into a three inch heel with a high ankle strap and an open toe, and somehow it felt like a relief when the heel lifted his leg up, the three inch heel was much more comfortable than his flats. His dark maroon tights coordinated perfectly with the accents in his dress and his shoes. 'What the hell are you doing to me?' Jim demanded in a pleasant contralto voice. 'Careful with that first step, dear, it can be a doozy in those heels.' Jim tilted perilously forward as he found himself perched on four-inch heels. Was he shorter? He was wearing four-inch heels now, but everything still looked the same. Marissa smiled at him as he regained his balance. 'Yes, I've done this to you. Why? Why not? I'm a witch and a bitch. I don't like you, and when I'm done with you, I'll make you into a perfect little secretary.' Jim wobbled across the floor. 'You fucking cunt, when I get my hands on you...' 'Not likely, Jim, my dear.' Marissa danced away to the other side of the office. 'You see, I can read your simple little male mind like a book. I know every thought you've had. How you think a sexy skirt and a tit-revealing blouse would put me on a par with you - the great salesman. How a sexy suit would give you a run for your money all by itself, and how you condescended to Alison, thinking the same thing. That a sexy body is all you need to get by. Well, now you're going to learn how you can get by with a sexy body. You'll learn exactly what a sexy body can do, and my sweet, it won't make software sales.' Jim stood there stunned. Somewhere, a deeply felt female response that wanted to cry. It was so unfair, punishing me just for having a sexy body. 'Now you'll learn what it's like to be seen for nothing other than your sexy body. I haven't just changed your shape; I've changed your reality. There never was a Jim Marsden, sales king. Now there is only Stephanie Marsden, a secretary who is only kept around because of her sexy body.' 'Change me back, I never thought that all you had to do was...' Jim whined. 'Bullshit! I know your thoughts, and even now, your male half is turned on and proud of those tits,' Marissa charged. Jim knew it was true, he was sexy, and he could easily dream about shoving a hard cock into this body. 'Besides, Stephanie, as you are now known, there is nothing to change you back to. You were born this woman, you've always been this woman, and only you will remember the man that you once were. Now get back out there and type these letters.' The rest of his day at work was awful. Jim had control over his body, but he could feel it slowly changing. His hips filled out and his breasts swelled until they were pouring out of their bra. He could remember so much about being a man, so vividly, and at the same time, his body moved forward on its own. Every time the part that was Jim wanted to deny what had happened, as if on cue, a manicured hand would readjust a bra strap or hitch up nylons. Secretarial work is tedious at best, and his body could make it through the day on autopilot while Jim looked outward helplessly. It was raining that night, and there wasn't a taxi to be found anywhere. Besides, on his salary, he could only afford taxis on rare occasions. Summoning up all his courage, he descended into the subway. The platform was crowded, and the train was full. Jim found himself packed into a car full of people. 'My feet are killing me, I just want to sit down, I just want to go home and forget this day ever happened, I just want...' 'Would you like to sit down, miss.' It was him, with the broad shoulders and dark eyes. He looked at him for a moment and his whole body started to tingle. The man offered the seat again, and this time, Jim smiled and gratefully took it. The train had six more stops to go, and all Jim could do was stare into this man's eyes. Somewhere, deep down inside, he was repulsed, he was staring at a man, dreaming about his cock, a cock like he used to have, a cock that he wanted to suck, to hold, to feel its hardness slowly pushing into him... 'Isn't this your stop,' he asked? Jim smiled again, rocketing out of his daydream. 'I know a great sushi bar around the corner if you'd like to join me for dinner.' Jim froze. He was a man, he thought he was a man, but here he was in a dress and pantyhose and makeup and heels about to accept a dinner offer from a man whose cock he was dreaming about. 'Sure, I'd love to.' 'You know, I don't know your name.' 'It's Stephanie.' 'Stephanie. That's a lovely name. You may call me Ben.' They walked silently to the restaurant. Stephanie was a mess inside, trying to fight off what had taken hold of her but it was no use. She shifted her purse to her other shoulder and took Ben's hand. Inside the restaurant, Ben whisked her off to a secluded table in the back. He spoke quickly and in Japanese to the waiter, who bowed to Ben and ignored Stephanie completely. Ben didn't say a word, he just stared at Stephanie. She felt her insides melt and burn. She wanted to run away screaming, but she felt helpless and riveted under his manly gaze. She managed to wrench her eyes away for just a moment, and caught sight of Marissa smiling from the sushi bar. Marissa stared evilly at her, and Stephanie felt another wave of changes. Her heels climbed up to five inches with a stiletto heel. Her silky tights became sheer black hose with golden sequins laced in. Her dress shrank and darkened into a little black dress with her ample cleavage spilling out and a gold lame shawl completing her outfit. Marissa grinned one last time and touched her pendant. Immediately, Jim shifted uncomfortably in his new body. Ben reached out a hand clamped it securely on Jim's leg. Jim was overcome with emotions and sensations and wanted to cry, wanted to run away, but his body betrayed him. His body took a finely manicured hand and put it on top of Ben's. Stephanie closed her eyes to try and hide but all she felt was her hand running up Ben's well-muscled arm. She slid closer to him and dropped her hand to his knee, drifting closer and closer to his dick. She felt its heat and it hardness through his jeans, and her hand almost leapt to touch it. Even under his jeans, she knew it was a monster, and she knew that she wanted it badly. Her gold polished nails fumbled with his fly. With her eyes still closed, Stephanie slipped off her wrap and slid under the table. She could smell his cock, and when her hands freed it, she could feel its heat on her lips. Slowly, gently, she licked the top of it. She tasted the salty pre-cum and she found herself squeezing her legs together in delight. Her frosted lips opened and wrapped around the head of Ben's cock. She heard him moan and felt him shiver as she ran her tongue down his shaft. She cupped his balls and started to suck on his cock. Jim felt the hot, smooth cock sliding in and out of his mouth, felt his saliva making it slick and wet, running her fingers over his belly and around his balls and the inside of his thighs as she devoted herself to the wonderful cock in her mouth. Ben's big hands came down and held her head tightly as his hips started to rock forward and backward. He fucked her mouth, used it like an anonymous hole, Jim felt the cock in his mouth jump and his body reflexively started to swallow, hungrily swallowed as that monstrous cock filled her mouth with semen. She swallowed and sucked and swallowed until she felt every drop slide down her throat, then she used a womanly finger to wipe the remnants off her chin, and looking up and smiling at her man, Jim felt himself longingly suck the last drops of Ben's cum off his finger. His pussy burned for cock and Jim felt himself slip deeper and deeper into Stephanie. Stephanie controlled this body now and she wanted cock. Dinner was quick and Stephanie squirmed through it all. Ben did nothing but stare at her like a piece of meat, not saying a word. By the time the geisha waitress brought them tea, Stephanie would have done anything to have a hot cock rammed into her. Marissa was nowhere to be seen, and all Jim wanted was release. Deep, sexual release. Jim sauntered along the street next to Ben, feeling the stares that her body was drawing. This is what it is like; this is how it is to get by with your body. Stephanie could barely spell Dolce & Gabanna, but she knew how to keep herself clothed in it. Holding Stephanie tightly, Ben led her back down the subway steps. She still had an apartment up here, but she wouldn't be getting back to it tonight, Jim realized. Stephanie had to work tonight. Again, he felt the world shift forwards and backwards and sideways while nothing moved. With Ben leading her, they went down another flight of steps. The air was musty and humid and she could feel it hot and moist around her bare legs. Ben simply picked her up and carried her down the last steps, then helped her find her balance, perching precariously on five inch heels, a leather strap binding her ankles with only six inches of play, the black lycra miniskirt and a snakeskin bustier that her ample tits were spilling out of. Ben gently pushed a lock of strawberry blonde hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, and then he clamped a silver band around her wrist. It was intricate; the design on the band, and now it was skintight. It looked like an exotic bracelet, but Jim felt panic rise as he saw it. It was entrancing to look at, but it was the mark of someone who was owned by... Ben started pulling Stephanie forward to the end of the subway platform. The bracelet riveted her, and it made her afraid. A downtown train roared into the station and made Stephanie look up. A dark haired man stood right in front of her, appraising her. He spoke to Ben but she couldn't hear a word of it. Ben let go and the dark haired man took her wrist. She wouldn't be coming home tonight, she knew, as the man took her onto the train. Ben smiled at her as the doors closed, and in the windows reflection, she saw herself, barely five feet tall without her heels, hair pulled back into a sexy style, lips pouting with red lipstick, breasts spilling out. She couldn't see the man who had her now, but some part of Stephanie knew where she was going... she was going downtown, where she would get her fill of sex, where she would be a toy, used for her body, downtown.