Women in Uniforms II
The fluorescent lights overhead hum with a headache-inducing frequency, the only constant sound in this cavernous warehouse. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, the rubber soles of my security boots squeaking against the polished concrete. It's another dead night, just me, a clipboard, and aisles of inventory gathering dust. I check my watch—2:14 AM. Six more hours of staring at cardboard boxes and listening to the HVAC system rattle.
I round the corner near Section C, flashlight beam cutting through the gloom, when a shadow detaches itself from the shelving unit. Then another. My heart hammers against my ribs, a sudden, violent rhythm that snaps me out of the daze. I raise the light, catching two figures in the glare. They're dressed in black, their faces obscured by cheap ski masks—one red, one blue.
"Security!" I yell, though my voice cracks slightly. "Stop right there!"
They don't stop. They panic. The guy in the blue mask scrambles backward, knocking into a tall stack of pallets. It wobbles, tips, and crashes. A box bursts open on impact, sending hundreds of sleek, neon-coloured objects skittering across the floor. Vibrators. Dildos. Butt plugs. The warehouse's latest shipment of 'marital aids' is now scattered like confetti at a very weird party.
The two intruders freeze, staring at the sea of silicone. The blue-masked guy looks down at a bright pink wand rolling near his boot, then up at me. I should be tackling them. I should be radioing for backup. Instead, a snort escapes me. Then a laugh. It bubbles up, uncontrollable and ridiculous, echoing off the high ceilings.
The tension in the air shatters. The guy in the red mask relaxes his shoulders, looking at the mess, then at me.
"Fuck," he mutters, the voice muffled by the fabric.
"We really stepped in it."
"You could say that," I manage to gasp between laughs, lowering the flashlight but keeping the beam on them.
"You boys looking for a party, or just trying to restock your personal stash?"
The blue one grins—I can see the crinkle of eyes behind the holes.
"Depends on the offer, Officer."
The air shifts. The adrenaline of the break-in transmutes into something thicker, heavier. My skin prickles, a flush of heat rising up my neck. I look at the spilled toys, then at the two men. They're fit, broad-shouldered, filling out their dark clothes in a way that makes my mouth go dry. The anonymity of the masks does something to me, removes the social contract, leaves only raw, physical impulse.
I step forward, crunching a purple bullet beneath my boot.
"I'm off the clock in spirit. And this floor is dirty."
"Good," the Red Mask says, stepping closer. He smells like sweat and cheap cologne. "I like things dirty."
He reaches out, gloved hand gripping the lapel of my uniform shirt, and pulls me in. The kiss is rough, fabric against my lips, tasting of cotton and urgency. I moan into the mask, my hands finding the waistband of his jeans. Behind me, the Blue Mask closes the distance, his hands sliding around my waist to cup my tits through the stiff uniform fabric.
"Fuck," I gasp, pulling back from Red to drag in air. "Let's make this mess worth it."
I drop to my knees on the hard concrete, the impact jarring but welcome. I look up at them, two masked strangers in a warehouse full of sex toys. It's filthy. It's perfect. I reach for Red's belt, unbuckling it with practised fingers, and yank his pants down. His cock springs out, thick and hard, already leaking precum. I don't wait. I wrap my hand around the base and take him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks.
"Jesus," Red groans, his hand tangling in my hair, forcing my head down. "Take it, you slut."
I gag slightly as he hits the back of my throat, eyes watering, but I relax my jaw, letting him fuck my face. Beside me, Blue is stroking himself, his dick heavy in his grip. I reach out, grabbing him by the base, jerking him in rhythm with the thrusts into my mouth.
"Switch," Blue commands.
I pull off Red with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his tip, and turn to Blue.
He grabs the back of my head, impaling me on his cock. He's thicker, stretching my jaw wider. I drool, the spit dripping down my chin and onto my uniform shirt. The sounds are obscene—slurping, gagging, the heavy breathing of two men wearing masks.
Red drops down behind me. I hear the tear of foil, then the cold slickness of lube being applied to my ass. I shiver, arching my back, presenting myself to him. He pushes a finger inside, then two, stretching the tight ring of muscle.
"You ready for this, guard?" he growls.
I pull my mouth off Blue just long enough to hiss, "Shut up and fuck me."
He doesn't hesitate. I feel the blunt head of his cock press against my asshole. The burn is intense, sharp and exquisite. He pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into my ass until his hips are flush against my cheeks.
"Ahh—fuck!" I cry out, the sound echoing in the empty warehouse.
Blue takes the opportunity to shove his dick back into my mouth, silencing me. I'm full, stuffed at both ends, a human skewer between them. They find a rhythm, Red slamming into my ass while Blue fucks my throat. Every thrust drives me forward, every pull back drags me onto the other cock. My body is a conduit for their lust, a vessel to be used.
Red reaches around, his fingers finding my clit. He rubs hard, fast circles, matching the brutal pace of his fucking. The dual sensation is too much. My toes curl in my boots, electricity shooting up my spine.
"Mmph! Mmph!" I moan around Blue's shaft.
"Look at her," Red grunts, his voice strained. "Taking it like a pro. She loves this dick in her ass."
He's right. I do. I love the degradation, the anonymity, the sheer dirtiness of being fucked on the floor by two criminals. My cunt clenches around nothing, dripping wet, juices soaking my thighs.
Blue pulls out of my mouth, stroking his cock furiously right in front of my face.
"Open up," he barks.
I stick my tongue out, panting like a dog. He groans, thick ropes of cum painting my face—my cheeks, my nose, my tongue. The heat of it is shocking.
Behind me, Red gives one final, savage thrust, burying himself deep as he empties his load into my bowels. I can feel the pulsing of his cock, the hot flood filling me up.
He pulls out, leaving me feeling empty and gaping, cum leaking out of my ass. I collapse onto the pile of discarded vibrators, the plastic hard against my skin, panting, covered in sweat and spit and cum.
Red stands up, fixing his pants. Blue is already adjusting his mask. They look down at me, a masterpiece of debauchery.
"Thanks for the hospitality," Blue says, his voice rough.
"Best patrol I ever ran into," Red adds.
They turn and vanish into the darkness of the warehouse aisles, leaving me amidst the neon rubble. I lie there for a long moment, the hum of the lights returning, the smell of sex heavy in the air. I wipe a glob of cum from my cheek with the back of my hand and lick it off, smiling at the ceiling.
Nighttime definitely is playtime.