Ultimate Submission: Unlocking My Private Locker Secret

I’m cracking open my Private Locker right now. This secret’s been locked tight, pulsing with shame and thrill. Friday hits. Office door slams behind me. I race to Christian and Martine’s place. Martine’s not home yet. I crave his cock. No more waiting. I knock, push in. Bag hits the couch. Straight to his bedroom. He’s in bed, bandaged hands fumbling magazines. Fresher dressings, still clumsy. I lunge. Full-mouth kiss, fierce. Hand dives under covers, grips his cock through boxers. ‘Slow down,’ he chuckles, pushing back. ‘You’re on fire.’ ‘I want you.’ ‘Manners first. Get dressed.’ Points to wardrobe. Black corset. I strip fast, clothes in a heap. Me, always neat? Not now. Lace it tight. Ass pops, waist cinches. Mirror check: early 1900s whore vibe. Hot. Turn to him, ready to devour. ‘Second drawer.’ Sheer black stockings, Dim Up. Sit on bed edge. Roll them slow, smooth over legs. Stand. Mirror again. ‘Now you look like a real slut,’ he says. ‘Come here.’ Heart races. Bedside table: plug gleaming. Hesitate. His eyes harden. Spit on it. Bend. I’m soaked anyway. Slides in easy. He reaches awkward, grabs leather collar with leash. ‘Put this on too.’ Buckle it snug. Soft leather hugs neck. Mirror: pale skin, black gear, bushy pubes. Indecent. Hubby’s face flashes—shame floods, arousal spikes. Tug on leash yanks me back. ‘Kneel on bed edge. Suck me.’ Couette off. Position set. Mouth engulfs cock. Leash wraps his arm tighter. No escape. I don’t want one. Try mirror glance—blocked. Total submission. Eyes shut. Suck hard. Tongue swirls, lips suck, head bobs fast-slow. Hand slips between thighs, rubs swollen clit. Ass up, plug stuffed, face buried, his dick owning me. Lost in it. Door slams. Freeze. ‘Don’t move,’ he whispers. Leash holds. Martine’s voice: ‘He’s in the bedroom.’ Not alone! Heels click closer. Panic. She’s behind me. Sees: stockings, ass out, plug. Mortified. Heart pounds. Can’t spit cock. ‘No intro needed for Christelle,’ Christian says. ‘Philippe, meet my colleague’s wife. Killer cocksucker, sweet ass.’ ‘I see.’ Deep voice. Male hand on ass. Traces crack, toys plug. Dips thighs, fingers pussy—drenched. Two fingers in. Hips buck. ‘She’s burning up. Mind?’ ‘Mi casa es tu casa.’ Fabric rustles. Sucking sounds. ‘Martine’s still a pro.’ ‘Christelle too. Back to work.’ Leash jerks. I obey, scared by my docility. Betrayed—planned. Yet wet. Cock tip nudges pussy. Huge, rigid. Pushes deep. Groan escapes. He thrusts hard. Fingers on clit, plug presses, Christian’s cock swells, erupts. Cum floods mouth, dribbles. Orgasm crashes—legs buckle, collapse. Philippe pounds on. Groans, unloads inside. Pulls out. ‘Clean it.’ Leash loosens. Turn. Stranger, naked, smirking. Relief—no one I know. Suck him clean. ‘Great slut. Lend her sometime?’ Tears burst. Toy. Martine cradles chin, licks cum from jaw, kisses deep. Tongues mix seed, spit. We tumble, entwined. Men watch, drinks in hand. Her fingers stir fire. Self-loathing, but hooked. I start 69. She laps Philippe’s cum from me. Men stroke cocks. Push her off. Both kneel ass-up. Plug out—useless now. Christian fucks me. Philippe her. Swap. Again. Rag dolls. Rage boils. Revenge time. Lay Christian back. Martine impales on him. Push her chest-down. ‘Tired. Philippe, her ass.’ He holds her. She begs: ‘Too big!’ Saliva lube. Rams in. Howls mix pain-pleasure. They sync-fuck. I watch from chair, legs wide. Fingers plunge pussy, clit throbs huge. Their hairy thrusts, slaps, grunts—gross. They cum together. I climax on fingers. Men pant, spent. Martine leaks from holes. I strip gear, dress silent. Eyes on me, stunned. Panties in hand. Plug in ass under skirt. ‘Taking this. Better company.’ Panties on. Grab bag. Gone. Car seat presses plug. Bumps jolt pleasure-cries. Homebound. No more them. Plug trophy. Hubby sees? His issue. Plastic pal forever.