"Yes, just take it down! You like that, don't you, doll!" I purr at you, watching cum and saliva rising out of your trapped mouth. Then your neck shakes as if it had been pushed upwards, and the gag reflex is suddenly kicking in. I pull out as your mouth and nose are flooded with puke, mostly liquid, smelling of wine, fruit and sour bowels. Your chained body jolts even though it's pinned down, and your face is flooded by the spunk. It's not a huge amount, but it lands in a pool in your hair, in the urinal. My love tool is spattered too, but I refrain from having you lick it clean, instead I turn the water tap on and let water run over it, before drying it with some paper.

You're looking up at me, silent and looking quite spent. Then a painful moan comes out of your throat. Your voice is a hoarse trickle when you finally speak: "Please...please unchain..No more..."

My own conflicting feelings about femininity ahoot to the surface, and the girl who motioned me out from the women's room is fleeting before my mind's eye. Now you're at my mercy and you're looking both hot and vulnerable. I want to be like you and I dread to be like you. I slap your face, taunting you, "Yeah, didn't that feel good!! No way I'm letting you go, girl!" and tug hard at the nipple chain, toying with your tits. I'm not even thinking about that someone must have left you like this, or that someone else might arrive any moment. I pull the chain again, and you yelp with pain.