Whore in the bathrooms

The effect of the mefe explodes in your head: everything becomes slow, unreal, the sticky floor beneath your knees, the smell of piss, semen, and sweat permeating every corner of the bathroom. The noise outside is like a tide of diffuse voices rising and falling each time the door opens to let in another guy ready to take advantage of the "tied-up faggot".

They've left you there on your knees, with your hands cuffed behind your back, the chastity belt tightening, your mouth pasty and your body vibrating from the shot. The drooler, with a joint in hand, gives you another direct hit in the nose. It overwhelms you, making shame mix with the high and the desire for more humiliation.

One of the patrons unzips and doesn't even ask: he holds your head, pushes his cock against your lips, and forces it in. He fucks your mouth standing up, pushing deeper and deeper, giving you pelvic thrusts to the face and not letting you breathe.

"That's how I like it, slut, swallow without protesting," he growls as you choke, feeling the taste of piss mixed with his cock. "What a shit face you have."

So drugged, you can only obey. Another guy approaches from behind, spits on your ass, puts his hand in, probes you, pulls on the belt, and they laugh. You feel a mix of dirty pleasure and total abandonment, your skin burning, your eyes moist. The drooler is there, recording everything with his cell phone, commenting on every detail:

"Look, not even his wife's thing, and now he's playing the deluxe submissive... What a waste you were at home, dude. Here you're put to good use."

Another guy, old, fat, and hairy, sits on the toilet and pulls your hair:

"Come here to clean my cock, faggot."

He shoves his sweaty cock in abruptly, forces you to lick it, then spits directly into your mouth, laughing so hard that the whole bathroom is infected.

In the background, another guy grabs you by the waist, opens your caged buttocks, and spits between them. The coldness of his saliva, the pressure of his fingers, and the comment:

"This one won't be going dry today, not even with gunfire."

The drooler appears again, smiling, with another glass and pulls it out of his still-wet cock.

"Drink, you've got a long night ahead," he orders, pulling the glass to force you. It drips down your chin, but you drink, desperate not to pass out from the brutality and stress.

The next round is pure humiliation: one after another, they piss on you. The hot urine flows down your face, chest, hair. Some clean their cock on your tongue before coming. Others just want to mock you, insult you, push you, turn the bathroom into their stage and you into their toy.

The cell phones record, the laughter explodes, and you can only let yourself be used, more and more high, degraded, erased. The drooler finishes it off, gives you another line under your nose, and forces you to lift your head so ever...