This is the first time you've been to The Company. Your friend discreetly recommended it to you; she knows you've been on a bit of a dry streak recently, and not the most adventurous person. Her recommendation came with a warning. This place is intense. Remember your safeword, and clear your schedule for a few days. You'll be there a while. The chair you're sitting on is almost uncomfortably cold, you can feel the icy metal through your skirt, and you're not sure about it. Sure, this could be fun, but your friend is a complete slut. This is much more her scene than yours. The form in front of you is already filled out, and now all that's left to do is wait. You're alone. A white door opens on the far wall, and a young woman walks through in a pencil skirt and perfectly ironed white blouse. "We're ready for you now," she smiles pleasantly, with a professional dignity far above what you expected from a glorified sex dungeon. "Please, follow me." You sheepishly get to your feet as she waits for you, the soft clicking of your high heels echoing through the space as you pass through the door, entering a long hallway, with doors every feet or so, all closed. It's almost clinical, the way she reads off your answers on the form you were given, as if this is nothing more than a standard conversation. She doublechecks that what you have written down is exactly correct, right down to your precise preferences, and your extreme limitations. You answer the questions quite timidly, not used to discussing your deepest  desires so openly. You see the slightest curling of her lips at your modesty, before it once again reforms into the same professional smile as before. She stops walking in front of one door in particular, near the very end of the corridor. With one last smile she opens it for you, and you walk inside. You catch the simple numbering on the door as you do so, a plain black 64, embossed onto the wood. The room you enter is sparsely furnished, with not much but a single bed, an armchair, alabaster walls, and an en suite on the far side.  "You will be attended shortly," the receptionist smiled, "Please, make yourself comfortable." Without another word, the door closed with a soft click and she was gone, leaving you in silence. You stood there for a long moment, unsure of what exactly you're supposed to do next, before taking off your coat and laying it over the armchair. The sheets of the bed were cleanly pressed, and the bed was made with absolute precision. One slight inconsistency under the bed caught your eye, and you dropped to your knees, pulling a large wooden box out from under the bedframe. A short gasp escapes your lips as you open the lid, taking stock of the wide variety of tools within. Rope, lingerie, paddles, collars, blindfolds, ballgags, dildos of all shapes and sizes, certainly more than you'd ever seen. Your cheeks can't help but flush slightly as your gaze lingers, imagining the uses of such tools. So focused were you on your find that you didn't notice the very slight sound of the door opening behind you, the welloiled hinges barely making a creak. "Most of our guests take longer to find that," a voice says from behind you, with a hint of a chuckle. The suddenness makes you jump, dropping the lid with a clatter as you dart to your feet. A man is standing in the room, and the door is once again closed. Black pants, crisp buttoned up white shirt, calculating eyes that look you up and down as if you were one of the things in the box. To him, you may well be, and you're surprisingly okay with that. "I'm" you begin, but he raises a hand, cutting you off. "You are 64. I am Sir." You hesitate, before nodding. "Yes Sir." "What is your name?" he asked expectantly, an eyebrow raised. "I'm... 64." "Good girl," he smiles with a nod of approval, "Fast learner. In that box is a thick collar with a silver clasp. Get it out for me." You comply, mouth a little dry as your gaze drops back down to the box. You can't help but let your eyes travel across his body, settling on his crotch for half a second, before moving on. You lick your lips slightly, wetting them as you sift through the myriad of toys spread out before you, looking for the collar. "Plenty of time for that soon, 64," he says quietly, and your cheeks flush again.  The warmth that had been steadily growing in between your thighs also increases, as well as a familiar wetness. After a few more moments of impatient searching, you hold out a collar that matches the description he gave you. He smiles, walking up to you and taking it from your grasp. "Turn around." "Yes Sir." You pull back your hair, feeling a sudden presence directly behind you as the collar is slowly put on you.  You can't help but tense slightly, pushing back and feeling the sudden resistance against the back of your skirt. Almost immediately, you recoil sheepishly. The collar is tightened until it very lightly restricts your airflow, and the warmth spreads once again. "This is discipline," his voice murmured into your ear, "If you behave, there'll be no need to use it. If you do not, then it will give you a mild shock. Since it's your first time, we'll be starting on the lowest setting. Do you understand?" "Yes Sir," you reply, a little taken aback.  You'd always been somewhat interested in collars, but this was the first time you'd actually tried it. It always looked interesting in the videos that you'd watched. You feel a hand lay itself gently on your hip, gripping through the thin fabric of your skirt and pulling you slightly back into his body. "You're going to turn around and get on your knees. You know what I want you to do, don't you, 64?" You feel a slight throb from his waist, and a warmth pressing against your ass. Without a word you spin around, dropping to your knees hesitantly so that you face is directly in line with his belt. Your heart brats faster as you gingerly reach forward, grasping the zipper and pulling slowly down. The sizeable tent already visible in his pants gives way as you pull them open, and a cock larger than any you have ever taken springs free, almost hitting you in the face. You recoil for a moment, taking stock of the engorged member. It would take both hands to hold properly, and even then there would be ample length left over. The width... Your hands could barely wrap around it fully. You have to physically stop yourself from reaching forward to grasp it, and your legs spread open slightly. The veins running along its length throb slightly. A single drop of wetness runs down your left thigh. "Don't be shy, 64," his voice cuts through the haze that had fallen over you, and you drag your eyes away from his veiny cock to look up into his eyes. "Take both of your hands, and suck my cock." Your eyes return to his meat without saying a word. You lick your lips, a little nervous about taking something that large, but this is what you came here for. Both of your hands reach forward, grasping his rod around the base and guiding it towards your waiting mouth. You close your mouth as you open wide, ready to take it, and you lean forward. The head itself pushes along your tongue as you awkwardly try and suck the cock, the restriction already pressing on your airflow and making you gasp. The taste of precum as it hits the back of your throat is , and you give the base of the cock a gentle squeeze. Almost immediately, you feel two hands. The first grasps around the back of your head, knitting into your hair and holding you in place firmly. The other is placed with the palm just below your ear, fingers extending around the back of your neck. Your eyes snap wide open just in time to see his hips pull back slightly, before rushing forward, even more of it into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat. You gag reflexively, but he doesn't relent. "You need to be trained how to properly take it into your throat," Sir scolded you, "You don't want me to discipline you, do you?" You try to shake your head, but his hands are holding you in place, exactly where he wants you. "Relax your throat, 64. This is going all the way, and I don't care how rough I have to be." You try your best to comply, but the next dozen thrusts hit the back of your throat, filling your mouth completely. He reasserts himself, gripping your head tighter, and pushing deep and hard. In the contest between the back of your throat and his firm cock, your throat submits. There is a moment of resistance, before his cock forces its way down, deeper and deeper into the very furthest parts of your throat. At first it's only a little bit, but very quickly his entire length is its way into places that have never been fucked before. You can't breathe at all. Your mascara is running, and you're convulsing, trying to push back against the monster cock that is now its way down towards your stomach. Your groaning of protests only serve to stimulate his cock more, and he holds you there still. Your eyes begin to roll back as his balls finally touch your chin, and you are released. You fall backwards, barely catching yourself on your elbows. Saliva is hanging off your mouth, still connected to his cock as you breathe deeply, occasionally spluttering. Your eyes are half closed, your cunt is drenched, and the saliva you can only get in the deepest parts of your throat now covers his stillerect cock. The barest hint of a smile crosses your lips as you spread your legs. "Good girl, 64," He says, "I think you'll enjoy your time here." You're too dazed to hear the words properly. All you can think about is that cock hanging in front of you. "Yes Sir," you murmur. End of Past 1, stay tuned for more 😉