A spitoon

You spit on it. It rubs itself furiously, wildly.

"You're a fuckin spitton, understand?" You say coldly. It nods. "That's it. No fuckin, no suckin, no lickin. You get spit on until you're worthy." It rubs itself so hard now. "And that's when I say it is. I don't care if it never happens and you're just a bucket of spit for the rest of your life." You spit on it again. Right on it's eye.

It's knees quiver from how hard its rubbing itself.

Good. You think. You're happy. Your cock is happy. And this fucking thing is slowly starting to serve it's purpose. Now there are just four steps left.

You need to break it.

You need to make it.

You need to name it.

And if it earns it, you need to fuck it.

But, first thing's first. The store closes. It's late. And you call in Saffron and another one of your girls, Ladybug to give you a hand. Ladybug is a pretty light-skinned black girl with short dark red hair, and big lovely fake D-cups that you provided for her.

"See this fuckin thing?" you say to your girls. "Here's what it's good for." And you spit on it again. It rubs itself. It's pussy is very wet. "Make it into something worth spitting on."

The girls understand and they get to work. First, of course, they each cover it with a nice thick wad of spit. Saffron, the curly red haired girl spits on its face. Ladybug spits on its tits. Saffron spits into Ladybugs mouth and Ladybug lets it roll off her tongue onto the new fuck things hair.

Hair needs work.

They give it a cut, giggling and pawing at its tits and cunt, but always just teasing, always only ending by covering it with a big wad of saliva. They cut its hair short, to the nape if its neck, a thin bob. Then they color it a wild bright orange. It looks good with its pale skin.

Then they shave its cunt bare. And, of course, spit on it.

You give Ladybug a needle and instruct her to give it a nicely pierced left tit. So she does. It winces at the pain and rubs itself hard. But the new sensation of a ring through its nipple will remind it always that it belongs to you.

The makeover, though just beginning takes most of the night. But ultimately, happy with the work they've done, you give Saffron and Ladybug a reward. You let them strip naked and scissor each other. The visual pleases you and teases your new play thing. It seems focused first on Saffrons naked freckle-covered body, wild with wanton lust, but unable to rub itself as it doesn't feel degraded or hurt at that moment. Then it seems entranced with Ladybugs wonderfully fake titties, wondering, no doubt, if that particular feature awaits it.

You're not sure yet. It's tits are nice, and a good size. But they're going to start to sag eventually. So they may need a little work, sooner rather than later. Still, all in good time.

At the end of the wild scissor session, after many minutes of pale and cocoa flesh rubbing against each other, moaning, groaning, Saffron unlocks and squirts her juice into Ladybug's eater mouth. Ladybug, of course, spits it onto your new fuck thing.

The next day it spends all day in the back room. Visitors to the porn shop are invited to go back there and treat it as it deserves. First they may gawp at its lovely naked body. Then they may spit on it. So they do. And it rubs.

Again and again. A dozen. Two dozen. Three dozen men pay it a visit. It's a mess by the end of the day, dripping, oozing with saliva.

At night you leash it up and take it on a run. Exercise will help it get skinny. So you take it through the worst part of town. There are a few biker bars that you know will appreciate the visit.

And of course, you're right. The men, and a few sluts, enjoy its company, they enjoy spitting their beer and booze on it, slapping its tits and cunt. One man suggests taking it back to the men's room and showing it what degradation really is.

No, you decide. That's not its purpose.

The next day, more time in the back room. More rubbing. More spitting. It's all it does. It gets to meet another of your girls who works at the sex shop. Inferno is a pink pixie-haired punk, and she takes an immediate liking to it. She heads into the back room several times to tease it. She pulls down her panties and squirts herself all over the floor, then licks it up and spits the juices into its face. She takes a man into the back, sucks his cock and spits the cum all over its tits. She slaps it hard. Again and Again. All through it, it rubs and rubs. Its pussy red, swollen, sore.

Then another night out on the town.

And this repeats itself for a week.

Then a month.

Then two.

When it's filthy enough, your girls come in and spit water at it to wash it clean. It eats when you permit it. It sleeps when it can no longer hold itself up. And it rubs. All the while you never hear it speak. Although you think once or twice at night you can hear it in the other room whispering the word "fuck thing..." to itself over and over.

One day Inferno begs you to let her have a little fun with it. So you do. You let Inferno piss into a cup, pour it into her mouth and spit it at it. Your fuck thing falls to the ground, rubbing itself harder than you've ever seen it.

And so, since you're nothing if not a kind owner, you let everyone that day relieve themselves into Inferno's mouth, only for Inferno to spit it out at your grateful object. It is so, so, very, happy.

And after about six months it is so very skinny. So very obedient. So very wet, degraded, and objectified.

You decide that it's earned a reward. It's finally graduated past the 'break it' part of its existence. And you should celebrate with a little present.

That day you wake it up early. It seems, nothing if not happy to see you. Thrilled for another day, after so many days, of fulfilling its purpose. It doesn't know there's a treat in store.