Dana swiped at her long, blonde hair with a towel as she stepped from the shower and swiped an arc of condensation away, left by the enjoyable hot water. She liked to rinse herself clean at the end of a day, especially days like this where she had been directly exposed to all manner of perversity. It truly shocked her that anyone could derive some sort of pleasure from goings-on at The Pink Spy, but that, she guessed, was why the Lord had created people like her. She saw herself as a knight in God’s army, a warrior against all the corruption that threatened to bring souls into the service of Satan.
She hated that they had not been able to arrest the garish-looking Lady B, but Dana held out hope. She was nothing if not determined, and she vowed to keep a very close eye on that operation. They would transgress, as all these companies did when faced with the ability to make incredible amounts of money. And, when they did, she would be there to put the cuffs on the blonde slut herself.
There was a flash, like a sudden migraine that came as fast as it went, and Dana found herself on the tile floor of her bathroom, dizzy from the sudden and blinding pain that seemed to come from her forehead and her neck all at once. She examined herself in the mirror again, but nothing unusual greeted her. Sure, her lips were thin, but not unattractive. And her breasts were a bit too small, maybe, but they still had a nice gentle curve that just screamed to be caressed and kissed and…
She shook her head. She wouldn’t allow her to think that way. In fact, Dana had spent much of her life learning to suppress that sort of thought, but sometimes they arose unbidden and undeniable, like the slow but steady rise of a cock as it reached its full turgidity.
“Stop it,” she said aloud, leveling a finger at the figure in the mirror. “You are not that kind of person!”
Placing a hand to her head again, Dana felt a second rush of sensation, this one less painful but undeniable. It felt as if she were itching from beneath her skin, unable to make it stop and she found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. When it passed, a little less quickly than the last time, she staggered from the bathroom to her bedroom. Along the way, the towel she’d wrapped around herself came loose and left her naked, stumbling, grabbing the nightstand by her bed to keep herself from falling.
The itching had subsided, but it left behind an aching need at the center of her, a hunger unlike any she’d felt before. And, behind her eyes, images of the girls in the booths at The Pink Spy, fueling the need coursing through her.
“Stop it,” she whispered to the empty room. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”
Her denials were unanswered. The fire in her loins only increased until she could no longer resist its urgency, placing her hand over the swollen lips, already dewy with anticipation. She whimpered as her hand moved of its own volition, despite her best efforts to restrain herself. Dana’s fingers found themselves slick and sticky and warm, and the silky texture stoked the flames of her lust higher.
More images flitted through her mind, imaginings of the girl in the maid uniform looking up at her, the valley of her cleavage visible and enticing. The woman sealed in rubber, gloved fingers pressing against a shiny latex crotch, a zipper slowly ticking down to reveal the sex of the doll beneath. Finally, the last girl, the one with the erection, her hand wrapped around the shaft. And now Dana imagined it was her hand, couldn’t stop the image no more than she could stop the thought of her mouth descending on the stiff flesh as long nails scratched down her back.
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