Digital rectal insertion plus ball gag

"Excellent, that's all we need. Well, then if you'll follow me." She gets up from the desk and leads you into the back. You're given a brisk medical exam, including having your height, weight, and penis length (both limp and fully erect at Alice's hand) measured and entered into a database. Your clothes are taken from you, and you're led down a short hallway through a door marked MILKING ROOM 1.

It's a small room, with the same calming blue walls and soft light as the rest of the milking salon. The middle of the room is taken up by what must be the milking table, a flat, cushioned black piece of furniture with an obvious hole in the middle.

"Here we are," Alice tells you. "Your attendants today are Marisa and Ella. You can have a seat there," she motions to a chair set along the far wall you hadn't noticed, staring at the milking table.

Alice leaves and you walk over to the chair, taking a seat and trying not to fidget. You almost jump out of your skin a moment later as two more attendants walk in, the white nametags clipped to their blue scrubs identifying them as MARISA and ELLA.

You examine Marisa first. She's tall, tan, and curvy, her dark brown hair up in a bun with tendrils hanging on each side. It's not easy to tell under the scrubs, but she looks pretty fit. She has dark features, large eyes and full lips in a round face. She's smiling at you, a friendly gesture that settles your nerves a little even as you jump up out of the chair, covering your genitals with both hands reflexively.

This draws a little laugh from the other attendant, Ella. She’s short and slim, with pale skin, her blonde hair in a short pixie cut. She has on stylish half-frame glasses, her merry green eyes sparking behind the lenses.

"Hello, sir," Marisa greets you, her voice soft and deep, glancing down at the tablet she has in her left hand. "I'll be your milking attendant for today. I see you’ve selected digital rectal insertion plus ball gag?”

“Ooh, I like it when they can’t talk,” Ella purrs. “Don’t worry, sir, even with that gag on, I’m sure I can make you squeal!”

You sure hope you haven’t made a big mistake as Marisa tells you to hop up on the table. You lay on it chest-down, your limp cock hanging through the hole. The collection device must be under there, your cock stirring a little thinking about what's about to happen.

The women get ready. Marisa puts the tablet down and fetches the ball gag from an overhead compartment, gently fitting it into your mouth and doing up the straps. She asks if it’s comfortable and you give her a thumbs up. Next the women don latex gloves, squirting big dollops of what must be lube into the palms.

You realize you must look nervous as Marisa smiles at you: “All you have to do is lay there, okay? We’ll do all the work, and it will feel great. What do you think,” she addresses Ella, “three today?”

“Four,” the shorter woman says definitely. To you: “If it’s too much or you want to stop early, just let us know. Raise your hand if you can’t take it any more.”

Marisa walks over to the table and sits on a low stool. You gasp as you feel her hand, warm through the glove and slick with lube, wrap around your cock. You're a little embarrassed you're not even half hard, but you quickly begin to catch wood as she expertly teases your shaft.

"There we are," she coos. "Get nice and hard for me. Remember, all you have to do is lay there and cum, okay?"

"Urg," you mumble around the gag. She clearly has a lot of experience at her job, and soon you're at full extension. "You're so big, sir," she murmurs. You get the feeling she says this to all the men, but it feels good to hear anyway. As her warm, strong hand changes to a wonderful milking motion, you let out a deep moan.

“Hey,” you hear Ella’s high voice from behind you. “I’m going to get started now. First I’m going to lube you up.” You nod, feeling her gently pulling your buttcheeks apart. She spreads a large amount of cool, slick lube in your back door. “Feels good, right?” she prompts.

“Yag,” you manage to reply. You feel Marisa’s left hand on your balls, gently kneading them as her right hand continues stroking your cock.

“You might cum just from me inserting my finger,” Ella goes on. “I don’t know if you’ve had your prostate stimulated before, but it’s very intense. Remember, you’re here to ejaculate, so don’t hold back.”

You let out a high moan as Ella’s index finger presses into your asshole. She’s not wrong about how intense it is when her fingertip makes contact with your prostate, an electric buzz of ecstasy running up your spine.

You don’t cum right away, but you don’t last long either - between Ella expertly massaging your prostate and Marisa’s grip on your cock and balls, before you know it you’re howling in pleasure, your hips weakly thrusting down against Marisa's hand as you finish.

She continues expertly milking your cock as you ejaculate straight down, humping the milking table as you unleash spurt after spurt, egged on by Marisa's teasing hands. Each time you move your hips back up, your prostate rubs up against Ella’s finger.

“Good,” Marisa coaches you. “That’s good! Get it all out!”

Post-orgasm her hands go from divine bliss to an uncomfortable overstimulation, and you have to stop yourself from squirming. She doesn't let you go soft, using just the tips of her fingers to keep you hard. Ella doesn’t remove her finger, but she does stop moving it, just resting the tip against your prostate.

“He just needs a minute,” Ella tells Marisa breezily. “You know, I bet I could make him cum just from this.”

“I’m sure you could,” Marisa agrees gently, “but we need the maximum amount, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ella jabs her finger forward. You cry out, your cock hardening in Marisa’s hand. “Okay, let’s get started on round two!”

Marisa switches her grip back to a full-hand, milking stroke as Ella resumes digitally manually stimulating you. No man could resist this pleasure, and you don’t even try, sinking into the wonderful sensation of your cock being stroked and your ass being fingered.

"Feeling good, sir?" Marisa asks. You manage a moan in return. For a second you wonder why the women keep asking you questions you can’t answer with the gag on, but then realize you don’t really care; as long as they keep doing what they’re doing, you’re happy.

"Three more to go and then we're done,” Marisa tells you. “All right? Can you do three more for us?" You let out another moan, trying to make this one sound like agreement.

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Ella laughs in a tone of what you can only think of as friendly menace. In any case, she’s right, as the second climax comes on only a little slower than the first. There's no clock in the room, but you feel like it's under 60 seconds before you feel yourself getting close again. Marisa senses it as well, her right hand moving faster and faster, the left kneading your balls insistently. Ella is now moving only the tip of her finger, aggressively mashing it against your prostate.

It’s too much. You cum again, hips bucking weakly against the table, emptying your balls straight down into the unseen collection device. You savor your orgasm as long as you can, Marisa and Ella’s hands sending you to heaven for a few wonderful moments as you cum and cum.

As you come down Marisa once again doesn't let you go limp, her fingertips dancing up and down your shaft, keeping you hard as you lay on the table panting. You'd like to get up and go home now, but you’re pinned down by Ella’s finger. Seeming to sense your thoughts, Marisa starts cooing what a good job you're doing.

"Just two more, all right? Think about all the money you're going to make, sir."

"Yerg,” you gasp around the gag.

"I think you're almost ready to start number three."

“I’ll make sure he’s ready,” Ella promises. Just the threat of what she’s going to do is enough to get you hard, but she begins attacking your prostate again anyway. You try to beg for more, but of course it just comes out as a low, slurred moan. The attendants indulge you anyway as Marisa switches back to her milking grip, applying faster, rougher stimulation. Having cum twice, it takes a little bit longer to get close to number three, but the two women manage it easily. You find yourself wondering if Marisa’s arms are so muscled from jerking men off all day. You have to admit that even if the gag wasn’t stopping you you’re not sure you’d have the courage to ask.

"He’s going to cum again," Marisa announces as you begin to ramp up.

"Yurfff," you moan eloquently.

"I want you to shoot even more for me," she tells you. "You're doing such a great job. I want you to really empty your balls for me this time, okay?"

"Glaaaaaaaghhh!” you scream into the gag as number three comes over you. You don't have much left, managing a half dozen weak spurts even as Marisa and Ella do their best to get every drop out of you. The discomfort after you're finished this time is the worst yet, and you can't imagine you have anything left to give. You're considering lifting your arm to show that that you want to stop, but Marisa seems to know exactly what you're thinking.

"Just one more," she whispers. "It won't take long, sir. I just need you to hold on and give me one more, all right? You can do it, I know you can. Just hold on and we're almost done."

In the end, you're too tired to get up, just moaning into the gag as Marisa and Ella continue working you. This time when Marisa switches back to her milking grip, it's as fast and as hard as you've ever experienced. Ella matches her pace, ruthlessly fucking your ass with her finger, stopping for a second at the end of every stroke to hammer your prostate like an angry woman hammering a doorbell.

The stimulation is so strong it's almost uncomfortable, and you writhe on the table, gasping and hammering it with your fists as Marisa and Ella’s hands bring you to number four.

You feel like you're shooting dust, not sure if anything at all comes out as your cock spasms in Marisa's hands, drawing fiercely on the empty well of your balls. When you're finished, her hands finally leave your cock and Ella withdraws her finger from your ass, leaving you a sweaty mess on the table.

Marisa removes your gag, and you manage a low, raspy “thank you” as you try to catch your breath. She pats your shoulder, leaving a little smear of lube you don’t have the energy to care about right now. You watch, exhausted, as the women take off their gloves and dispose of them, the ball gag going in a separate bin, probably to be washed and reused.

Ella checks the collection device as Marisa helps you off the table. With a smile she tells you that you'll be paid up front, and you wave away her offer of helping you back to the changing room, holding on to a little shred of pride as you manage to hobble out of the milking room, back to the changing room where you get dressed.

You head to the front desk where Alice is waiting for you: "Oh, sir! I hope you were satisfied with our service today. Just a moment and I'll add up your payment for today." She stares intently at her screen, adding up your results. "There we are. Congratulations, you've earned $100!"

Not bad! You take the five crisp $20 she hands you and stick them in your pocket. With a smile she tells you to come back any time. You leave to go home, your head clear and your money problems a little less, even if you suspect your ass is going to be plenty sore tomorrow.