I moved to Seventy, then Sixty-Two, repeating the humiliating ritual with each girl. Seventy turned out to be named Shaniqua. Sixty-Two, the willowy brunette with the hazel eyes, was Joyce.
My jaw ached by the time I knelt before Fifty-Three, my lips swollen from the extended use. Each girl had tasted slightly different, each ass had felt different against my mouth, and thecumulative shame of what I was doing threatened to break me completely.
But Fifty-Three was different. When I pressed my face between her legs, she didn’t just stand there passively. Her hand gripped my hair hard, controlling my movements, grinding her pussy against my mouth with obvious pleasure.
“That’s it,” she moaned. “Use that tongue. Show me what a good little pussy-licker you can be.”
I worked harder, driven by fear of punishment and by some darker compulsion I didn’t want to acknowledge. My tongue found her clit and I focused there, circling and sucking while she held my head in place. Her thighs trembled on either side of my face, and I heard her breathing quicken.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Right there. Just like—oh, fuck.”
Her pussy pulsed against my mouth as she came, her hand yanking my hair hard enough to hurt. I kept licking through her orgasm, tasting the flood of her release until finally she pushed me away.
“Good girl,” she panted, looking down at me with flushed cheeks. “Now my ass.”
I serviced her bottom just as I had the others, but she made me spend longer there, made me really work my tongue into her tight opening while she moaned. When she finally allowed me to kiss her asshole, she held my face there for a long moment, grinding against my lips.
“I’m Emily,” she told me in a voice strained with pleasure as she rubbed her most intimate place over my nose and mouth. “But you’ll call me Mistress from now on, when we’re by ourselves.”
She pushed her hips back one more time, reaching behind to hold my face inside her ass crack.
“That’s it, new girl,” she grunted. “There you go.”
Emily stood up and turned around to look down at me.
“We’re not done,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Shaniqua, pull out the bench.”
As I watched with wide eyes and racing heart, the dark-skinned girl pulled a low plastic bench out from a corner of the shower room. The bench was presumably for girls to sit on while they shaved their legs or whatever normal activities happened in showers that weren’t part of a twisted rehabilitation program. The surface was wet from the shower spray.
“On your back,” Fifty-Three instructed. “Head near the edge.”
I climbed onto the bench with trembling limbs and lay back, the cool plastic pressing against my spine. Fifty-Three moved to stand over me, one foot on either side of the bench near my shoulders. I shuddered at the obscene sight of her bare pussy still glistening from her orgasm, the pink flesh swollen and wet.
“Do you know what queening is, new girl?” she asked, her voice taking on that patronizing tone again.
I shook my head, though some part of me knew exactly what was coming.
“It’s when a woman sits on another woman’s face,” she explained. “When she uses another girl’s mouth for her pleasure. Your daddies told me you’re going to be very good at this. Let’s find out if they’re right.”
She lowered herself onto my face, her thighs bracketing my head, her pussy pressing against my mouth with her full weight. The position was overwhelming—I could barely breathe, could see nothing but her body above me. She was completely in control, using my mouth as casually as Daddy Bill had used it, grinding against me while I struggled to keep licking.
“That’s it,” she moaned, rocking her hips. “Tongue inside me. Deeper.”
I obeyed, pushing my tongue into her opening while she rode my face. The taste of her filled my senses, the scent of her arousal overwhelming. My jaw ached, my neck strained from the angle, but she didn’t care. She just kept grinding, kept using me, chasing her second orgasm while the other girls watched.
When she came this time, it was harder than before. Her thighs clamped around my head, cutting off what little air I’d been getting. Her pussy pulsed against my tongue and I felt her release flood my mouth. I swallowed reflexively, unable to do anything else as she used my face for her pleasure.
Finally, mercifully, she lifted herself off me. I gasped for air, my lungs burning as I sucked in desperate breaths. My face was soaked with her juices, my jaw aching from the extended abuse.
“Very good, new girl,” Emily said, looking down at me with satisfaction. “Your daddies were right. You’re a natural at this.”
The praise made something complicated happen in my chest—a warmth that shouldn’t have been there, not after what she’d just done to me. But I couldn’t deny the treacherous flutter of pride that came with her approval.
Mr. Jenkins’s voice cut through the steamy air. “That’s enough for this morning. Let’s get you back to your rooms, little ladies.”
I climbed off the bench with shaking legs, my face still wet with Emily’s release. The other girls were already moving toward the door, and I followed on unsteady feet, trying to process what had just happened. I’d eaten four pussies and kissed four assholes. I’d been queened by the Trusty until she’d come on my face. And some horrible part of me had gotten wet from it.
We walked down the hallway in a line, water still dripping from our hair and bodies. I found myself next to Keiko—Sixty-Eight—and something about her gentle demeanor gave me courage to speak.
