No, never again

You squirm a little and blush at the thought of what you're about to say, but there's no doubt in your mind that you want to make this difficult for yourself, more difficult than it is for the other women helplessly caught up in your fantasies.

"No, thank-you, Brady. I meant what I said. I think I've been taking advantage of my colleagues too much since I've been working here, so from now on I intend only to give orgasms at the office, not receive them." You step into the lift with him and select the ground floor.

"Wow, Jenna, that's really generous, but are you sure? You know how horny you get when people play with you. Not cumming is going to drive you crazy."

"Well, I suppose I'm just going to have to explore my options outside of work. Anyway, would you like me to give you an orgasm instead?" It feels only polite to offer, but you're glad when he declines.

"Oh, I'd love to, Jenna, but it's not long since my last one. Tomorrow, for sure."

"Okay, see you then." You don't say you're looking forward to it, but you're not exactly dreading it, either.

Fortuitously, the lift doors open at this exact moment and you're able to go your separate ways without further discussion, Brady to the underground car park and you out the front door. Thankfully, he doesn't offer you a lift, which you'd feel obligated to refuse, but maybe in this life he's done that in the past and knows what your answer would be. Instead, you set off for the bus stop and immediately find your bottom assailed once more by spanks from other pedestrians.

You're in less of a hurry than during your first foray onto the streets in your birthday suit (not counting the ones the Rulebook created in your fake past) and so you're able to take note of your surroundings more fully. The feel of the pavement beneath your bare feet is disconcerting, but apparently your soles are tough enough to manage the rough concrete without discomfort. This late in the day, there are fewer people about, but it's still reasonably busy. Quite a few of the women have their boobs out and either the definition of petite and small breasted is rather broad, or they just like it.

A heavily built middle-aged Indian woman is walking towards you, wearing a sari. At first, you think she's escaped any embarrassment from having her clothes chosen for her today, but as you get closer, you realize her face and hair are streaked with the dried remnants of a man's semen. Presumably whoever dressed her decided she should wear his mark, too. You look away before she notices you staring, but she still gives your bum a backhanded slap as she passes.

Arriving at the bus stop, you're surprised to see a plump, blonde, white woman standing in the shelter, as naked as you are. Without wishing to be unkind, she's not particularly attractive and only a couple of the other potential passengers are half-heartedly playing with her nipples. She's ignoring them completely, engrossed with her smartphone. The other two women present with bare breasts are caressing each other's, maybe to avoid anyone else's attentions.

When you stop, there's considerably more interest amongst the others waiting and within a few moments, an elderly gentleman is expertly stroking you to the brink of orgasm, whilst a younger man and a mature woman (breasts covered) start spanking a cheek each. They all seem to be strangers and took their places without a word to each other. Whatever the groping etiquette is, it doesn't require communication between gropers.

In your current state of advanced arousal, it doesn't take long before you're moaning with pleasure, the relentless smacks on your backside only adding to your desire. You wonder whether you'll be expected to reciprocate with all three if you climax, or only the man rubbing your clit. You think it ought to be all three, because who can say for certain which bit of stimulation actually pushed you over the edge?

Unfortunately, you don't get to find out, because the closer you get, the slower he rubs. Why is everyone obsessed with teasing you? The humiliation of climaxing at a bus stop and servicing the three people who brought you to orgasm is so intoxicating that you start to beg, which is deeply humiliating in itself, of course.

"Please, I'm so close, just a bit more, please!"

There are several tuts and your spankers start hitting considerably harder, but it's the elderly man who dashes your hopes.

"I'm afraid I'm a married man," he says, forcing you to edge again without release. So being married means he can't make you cum, but edging you is fine? It doesn't make a lot of sense, but explains why only the single employees stayed behind to take advantage of you after work.

The arrival of the bus interrupts your tormentors' fun, although your bum gets slapped a few more times whilst embarking. You're so flustered, you barely manage to get your card out to pay without dropping it. You look for a seat, but it's standing room only and soon you find yourself surrounded by a different group who are equally interested in teasing and spanking you.

A bearded man in his thirties is delighted to find you soaking wet and immediately sets about fingering you, whilst a handsome black man about your own age cups your right breast, playing with your nipple. A topless redhead wearing a lot of make up assaults your other teat with her manicured fingernails and someone you can't see standing behind you alternately squeezes and slaps your bottom. Your knees buckle under the merciless stimulation and you only remain upright by holding onto the overhead straps, eyes rolling back in your head. Your inner walls start to contract, your orgasm approaching.