Amplified

Citizen anxiously shifted in place, stepping forward as the line steadily advanced. It was still hard to believe he’d somehow managed to win VIP meet-and-greet tickets to see the Vinyl Scratch. Yet there he was, standing in a queue to see her in person. Besides absolutely adoring her music, he’d been smitten with the well-built amazoness of a mare from the moment he'd first laid eyes upon her.

Clutching a poster and her latest album to his chest, he thought about what he’d say to her. She doubtlessly got showered by compliments, so there likely wasn’t anything he could say that she hadn’t heard before. As he stewed on how the interaction would go, hoping he wouldn’t come off as just another fan, he mindlessly shuffled onward. Since it was his first time ever meeting someone so famous, he hoped he’d make a lasting impression.

“Next,” a voice called, shaking him from his thoughts.

Realizing he was being spoken to, he lifted his head. There, standing not a dozen paces away, was the Vinyl Scratch. Standing head and shoulders taller than himself, lounging beside a table full of merchandise, she idly ticked away at her phone. A cold knot formed in his stomach, he swallowed hard, and his knees went weak as he falteringly stepped towards her.

“H...hey,” he mumbled, looking up at the titanic woman.

Lowering her head, Vinyl peered over her shades at the shorter unicorn. “'Sup?”

Though he’d tried to prepare himself for the impending encounter, all his planning and careful forethought went straight out the window. Absolutely in awe of her size and magnificence, his eyes wandered up and down her frame. Not only was she the biggest mare he’d ever met, but she was actually talking to him. Steeling himself, he stowed the two items he hoped to get autographed under one arm and extended his hand.

“I’m Citizen,” he began, wincing slightly as she gave him what she likely considered a normal handshake, but was a far firmer squeeze for his comparatively frail hand. “But everyone calls me Citi.”

His anxiety was making it hard to think and nearly impossible to look her in the face. In every conceivable way, she was astonishing. Her talent and good looks were only rivaled by her profoundly imposing presence, making him feel all the more inadequate. Out of nowhere, catching him by surprise and causing him to step back, she leaned over him, lifted her glasses, and grinned.

Vinyl relaxed her grip and nodded to the poster and album under his arm. “You want those signed, little dude?” she asked, lifting her glasses and hooking them above her horn. The stallion nodded dumbly and smiled like an idiot, holding the items out to her. Pulling a silver felt-tipped marker from her pocket and uncapping it with her teeth, she took the proffered merchandise and laid it on the table. “Big fan, huh?”

“Y...yeah,” he croaked, nodding enthusiastically.

Handing over the autographed CD case, she shifted her attention to the poster. “So, what’s your favorite?”

The question sent Citi’s mind reeling. Favorite? Favorite what? Favorite album? Favorite performance? Favorite outfit? His thoughts ran rampant, sending his stress levels sailing through the roof and leaving him a confused, stammering mess. Desperately trying to form a reply, his eyes drifted over her body...and landed on something out of place.

The fabric of her jeans where they covered her groin was misshapen. It almost looked like something was stuffing her pants, but that wouldn’t make any sense. He’d seen countless videos of her various performances and interviews several times, so he should have spotted something so out of place - then again, this was the first time he’d ever been so close to her before. Knowing he had to say something to her, lest he look even more foolish, he took a shuddering breath.

“Y...your bulge,” he automatically blurted, wholly unaware of what he’d said or the fact that he was still gazing at the swell in her slacks.

Realizing a split second too late what he’d said, his gaze flew to her face. Staring dead at him, the mare slowly raised a brow. He broke into a cold sweat, his jaw flapping uselessly as realization dawned: Even if there wasn’t anything in her jeans, he’d just said the dumbest, most brazen thing possible.

“I-I...I’m…” he quietly babbled, inching closer to her.

Glowering, the DJ scribbled out the rest of her signature, rolled up the poster, and handed the item back to him. “Thanks for coming. Next!” she barked, peering over at the line of fans and waving the closest one over.

Utterly crushed, Citi took his items and ran off down a corridor and towards the exit. It would have been bad enough to squander his chance to meet the idol, but he’d done something far, far worse than that. Being another nameless fan would have been a tender mercy compared to looking like some lusty, awkward sycophant! Even if he got a chance to meet her again, he felt sure she’d have him escorted away by security.

Bursting through the exit and into the cool night air, he scampered into the parking lot and towards his car. He had no real need to go back to his inn, since he had nothing to do there, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay at the venue. He wouldn’t even be able to go home for another three days, because he’d taken a train to Manehattan to see her performance. As he unlocked the vehicle and hopped into the driver seat, the CD and poster he’d held under one arm fell to the floorboard.

Staring at the pair of items, he was hit with a wave of self-loathing and sorrow. He didn’t even want the stupid merchandise anymore, since he knew they’d only serve as reminders of his bumbling, moronic blunder. Tossing the CD into the passenger seat, he scooped up the poster and unfurled it. If nothing else, he could probably sell them online to recoup some of the money he’d spent on the trip and ticket for the show itself.

As he unrolled the oversized piece of paper, wistfully admiring the photo of the disk jockey, he froze. Vinyl’s signature rested in the corner, but there was something else scribbled beneath her autograph:

Mare-iot Hotel
Room 707
11:00

Confusion washed over Citi, as he blankly stared at the cryptic little message. As impossible as it seemed, it looked like the DJ had given him an invitation of some sort. Reading and rereading the handful of words, he tried to put the pieces together. He honestly couldn’t fathom why she’d want to see him again, especially after making himself out to be a pervy idiot, but there was no way he could stand her up!

Starting his car and glancing at the clock, seeing he had just under two hours until he was supposed to show up at what was presumably her hotel room, he drove out of the parking lot and towards his lodging. Regardless of why Vinyl wanted to meet with him, he swore he wouldn’t let his second chance with her go to waste. Cruising towards his inn, he held onto the slightest glimmer of hope.

The next hour passed in a blur, before he was back on the road and heading towards the Mare-iot Hotel. He’d had enough time to shower, change, brush his mane back, and even shave his face prior to leaving his room. He hadn't anticipated any formal occasions, so the best clothes he'd brought with him were a clean t-shirt, shorts, and his usual tennis shoes; it wasn’t much, and he doubted she’d be impressed, but it was better than the sweat-soaked garments he’d left her show wearing.

A while later, after navigating his way through the bustling metropolis, he reached his destination. The hotel she was staying in was absolutely massive, making the inn he had chosen look like a shabby funhouse. After circling the blocks for a handful of minutes, watching his clock tic ever closer to eleven, he scrunched his snout. Biting the bullet and paying for a space in a nearby parking deck, he jogged down to Mare-iot’s front door.

As he neared the entrance, he slowed—not because he cared about what anyone may think of him, but because he needed to collect himself. Using one of the mirrored windows on the building’s face, he looked himself over. He was still the short, brown furred, unspectacular unicorn he’d always been, somewhat average for a stallion, but at least he didn’t look bad. Swearing he wouldn’t fuck up a second time, he moved into the building, summoned one of the elevators, and quietly rode up to the seventh floor.

Once he reached the seventh floor, he stepped out of the lift and, with a long breath to steady himself, moved down the hallway. 701...702…703...704...As he slowly passed the rooms, drawing closer to his goal, his apprehension mounted, but he pressed on. By some cosmic grace, he’d been given a chance to salvage his image, and he’d be damned if he was going to chicken out and run away. Coming to a stop before door 707, he held his breath, lifted his hand, and knocked.

“Who is it?” a gruff yet distinctly female voice called, sending a shiver up his spine.

“Citizen - er - Citi,” he responded.

“Who?” the voice shot back.

He shook his head and screwed his eyes shut, praying he hadn’t been on the receiving end of some prank. “Citi! The stallion whose poster you signed!”

Though there was no immediate reply, he detected the sound of movement from within the room. He stepped back, hearing someone big moving towards the door. It was his last chance to get away, to try and forget ever making an ass of himself, but he didn’t budge. As the door swung open, revealing the unmistakably tall, built form of the DJ, his heart skipped a beat.

“Oh yeah, the little dude,” Vinyl remarked with, of all things, a smile. Without so much as waiting for his reply, she turned around, plodded back into her room, and waved for him to follow. “Come on in.”

Citi could scarcely believe what was happening; for whatever reason, she’d invited him to her room for a second, far more private visit. It was quite literally a once in a lifetime opportunity, being able to spend any amount of time with her in private, even if he was utterly baffled by it all. Nearly dashing in after her, he closed the door behind himself and surveyed his surroundings.

Her accommodations, while spacious, appeared relatively standard. The clothing she’d worn at the show was haphazardly thrown in a corner, beside two large suitcases. At some point, likely when she’d gotten back to her room, she’d changed into a simple t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, having abandoned her tighter, flashier apparel for something more comfortable. Besides the typical luggage, a pair of laptops and a mixer board had been set up in the far corner of the chamber.

“I gotta admit,” the mare began, retrieving a beer from the mini-fridge, “I’m kinda proud of you for showing up. Most of the time, folks punk out and leave me hanging.” Chuckling to herself, she cracked the can open and took a sip. “Props to you for that.”

“T...thanks,” Citi murmured, feeling his cheeks darken.

Stepping over to him, she thoughtfully scratched her chin. “Anyways,” she continued, “what was that you said at the after-show? You liked my…” she let the question hang, affixing him with her cerise gaze.

He gulped, having had no way to anticipate the question. Licking his lips, feeling as though his mouth was full of sand, his thoughts raced. He could have bullshitted her, claimed he’d said something else, but there was a damn good chance she’d see through his deception. His shoulders wilted and he slowly exhaled as he realized it would probably be best to tell her the truth.

“I said I liked your bulge,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. “It was a stupid thing to say, I know, but I was overwhelmed and just blurted out something.”

“I mean,” she snickered, unabashedly fondling her crotch, “it is a pretty awesome bulge.”

Citi’s head shot up, his eyes widened, and his mouth hung open in shock, doubting what he’d just heard. “I...what?”

“My bulge,” the mare hummed, cupping some unfathomable mass within her pants, “it is pretty awesome. If you don’t believe me, check it out for yourself.” Hooking one thumb over her elastic waistband, she tauntingly tugged at the garment.

Standing within arm’s reach of the colossal mare, watching her fan her slacks, a peculiar aroma wafted to Citi’s nose; it smelled odd, but not in a bad way. Strong and earthy, with a strange piquant note, he couldn’t place the scent until he peeked up to her face. Vinyl’s smirk broadened into a wolfish grin, as she glanced at her loins.

“It’s hitting you, isn’t it?” she observed, cocking her head to the side. Before he could say a word, she stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Go ahead and check it out,” she instructed.

“What?” he repeated, completely at a loss.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “Get over here, pull my pants down, and ogle my goddamn junk. Come on, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

He’d definitely heard her right, but the information refused to sink in. Frozen like a deer in the headlights, he fidgeted with his hands until she groaned and stepped directly before him. With only a few inches between his face and her rack, he could swear his heart was about to pound its way out of his chest.

“First time?” she asked. The little stallion nodded, only fleetingly peering up at her. “Ok, so, here’s what you’re going to do...” she muttered, leaning forward and grabbing his wrists. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, starting with pulling my pants down.”

Finding his hands pulled to her hips, Citi did his best to process everything that was happening. “So…” he falteringly whispered, only reluctantly looking to her face. "You're asking me to pull your pants down.”

“No, little guy. I wasn’t asking you to pull my pants down, I was telling you to pull my pants down,” she sternly corrected, leering down at him. “If you really want to do it right, slowly squat down when you do it; I want to see your reaction when you’re face to face with it.”

Seeing few other options, he steeled his resolve and did as he was asked—no, told. A strange mixture of bewilderment and arousal surged through him as he steadily lowered himself and continued drawing her pants to the floor. The fabric of her slacks gradually passed over her hips, giving a tantalizing glimpse of her cream colored hide. Only when the garment slipped lower, approaching the mysterious swell at her groin, did he slow.

As inexplicable as it was, the dark, root-like base of something appeared before him. Hauling the pants lower revealed inch after inch of thick, hairless, vascular flesh. Though he couldn’t wrap his head around it, the sight was unmistakable; he was looking at an exceptionally huge stallionhood, replete with a pair of absolutely huge balls. The obscene and awe-inspiring organ was a sight to behold.

Each testicle had to be bigger than his fist and easily the largest he’d ever seen. The grapefruit sized nuts and immense cock made his package look absolutely pitiful in comparison. Staring at the titanic equipment, unsure of what to say or do, a snicker from above caught his ear. Forcing himself to look away from the magnificence of her loins, he peered to her face.

“There it is,” she contentedly hummed. “Heck, I thought you were going to kiss it for a second, you were gawking so hard.”

“Wha...How are…” Citi sputtered, reeling from the puzzling turn of events.

He instinctively backed away, but the mare extended one arm, rested a huge hand on his head, and pulled him back towards her crotch. Finding his muzzle forcibly inching closer to her groin, he resisted, momentarily caught off guard by her insistence. It was an infuriating moment, with his interest warring against his reluctance, yet it ultimately mattered little. Her patience gone, the large unicorn stepped forward and ground her equipment against his snout.

“Why are you fighting it?” she growled, her voice somehow both seductive and menacing. “Breathe it in and savor it. If you’re a good colt, I might just let you suck on it.”

Though his face was pressed against Vinyl’s hot, unwashed equipment, the mention of oral stole his attention from her package. Glancing up at her, he placed his palms on her thighs and pushed himself away. “Suck it?”

“Duh,” she grunted. “I didn’t invite you over here to look at it.”

Citi’s eyes widened, as her declaration sank in. Now it all made sense: she’d had every intention of using him as a booty call! Vinyl's fame meant that she could pick and choose fans to help her relieve herself whenever she pleased, and she’d chosen him to entertain her for the evening. He still couldn’t explain how or why she had a giant cock, but that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

His gaze swept down her chest, over her abdomen, and ultimately to her now-semi-erect stallionhood. Though he didn’t consider himself gay, his boner apparently considered otherwise, and he had to admit there was something obscenely hot about seeing a mare with a dick. Still, even if he wanted to blow her, and some part of him clearly did, he had no experience with such a thing.

“Well?” she huffed, tapping her foot.

Licking his lips, he steadied himself, leaned in, and kissed the trunk-like base of her length. With his nose against her sheath, the nexus of her musk, he deeply inhaled. Her scent was intoxicating, and it spurred him onward. As he reached up to fondle one of her shockingly weighty balls, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much seed the mare could produce. His lust overtaking his trepidation, he opened his mouth.

As he dragged his tongue over the thick, pungent folds of flesh at the root of her stallionhood, and then up along the shaft, bitter, salty flavors washed over his taste buds. Working his way towards the tip, he closed his eyes and fixated on the alien sensations she afforded. As confounding as the situation was, he couldn’t deny how turned on he was getting. Reaching the tip of her length, coming face to face with the battering ram-like head of her tool, he was hit with a startling realization: even though he wanted to please her, her cock itself presented quite an obstacle; it was thicker than his wrist and easily as long as his forearm! Shifting his grip, he lifted the gargantuan package towards his face. The weight of her cock alone was intimidating enough, although there was one small detail that made him wary - she wasn’t even fully hard.

Acting quickly, hoping to buy himself some time, he brought his snout to her glans and began sloppily making out with her dick. While he was completely inexperienced with sucking someone off, he’d seen enough porn to have a basic concept of what to do. As he continued to fondle her twin cum-factories, his right hand gently stroked and squeezed what part of her length he was able to wrap it around. The seconds dragged on while he fervently tongued her cock-head.

“Not too shabby,” she whispered above him, affectionately running her fingers through his mane. “But it’s about time we stop fucking around.”

The kindness faded from her voice, replaced by a cold edge as her digits clamped around the back of his skull. Trapped in her vice-like grip with no chance of fleeing, he was left at her mercy as she steadily pressed her hips forward. Citi’s palms flew to her waist, hoping to stop her advance, yet she ignored or dismissed what little resistance he put up. The tip ground past his lips, but things took a turn when he wasn't able to get his teeth out of the way, leaving them to nearly bite the fat stallionhood. The mare angrily hissed and withdrew, shoving him backwards and setting him off balance. Crashing to his ass, the stallion fretfully peered up at her.

“What the fuck?” she barked, grabbing her dick and inspecting it for damage. “What kind of fucking amateur are you?!”

More than a little disappointed with himself, and upset that he’d unintentionally failed her, Citi did the first thing that came to mind—he told the truth. “It’s not like I’ve ever done this before, alright?” he lamented, shakily pushing himself up to face her.

“Then why did you come here?” Vinyl countered, cocking a brow.

“Because you’re amazing, a-and you're hot, and because I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. I didn’t know you had, um—” he faltered, peeking at her goods. “Anyway, yeah, I had no idea things were going to turn out like this.”

Squinting over at him, the mare incredulously scanned his face. “And you want to fool around with me?”

Despite the fact that he’d been practically french kissing her tool, the question made him blush. “I...I guess…?”

A tense silence settled between the two, before the mare stepped back and pointed at him. “If that’s true, strip. I want to see what I have to work with.”

Though he found himself ogling her equipment, the request made him do a double take to her face. “Huh?” he croaked.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you. If you want me to break you in and teach you a few things, I’d be more than happy to. But…!” She paused, lifting a finger and locking eyes with him. "No more questions, no more disobedience, no more indecision. If you do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it, I’m sure you’ll love our time together.”

Nodding, Citi was all too happy to reach for his collar and start pulling his shirt up and over his head. Dick or no dick, he’d just been given a golden opportunity to get frisky with one of the premier musicians in all of Equestria! Tugging the garment off and tossing it to the side, leaving his upper half exposed, he swiftly unfastened his belt. Though it was a bit embarrassing to bare himself in front of her, she’d been naked from the waist down for the last few minutes. Leaning forward, after unbuttoning his fly, he pulled his boxers and pants to his ankles.

Now all but nude save for his shoes and socks, he straightened up to face her. He had to fight to keep from covering himself, forcing his hands to stay at his sides, yet he somehow managed. Through it all, he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the face. As she lazily walked around him, all he could do was hang his head and hope she liked what he had.

“Not a bad start, but you’re going to need a little work,” she flippantly noted.

“W...work?” he uneasily repeated, lifting his gaze.

“Don’t worry about it,” she remarked, dismissively waving a hand. “Alright, next step, lay down and hang your head off the foot of the bed,” she commanded, nodding to the king-sized mattress.

Citi did what he was told, not having to be told twice. After kicking his pants and shoes away, he clambered onto the bed, rolled onto his back, and got into position. Though everything appeared upside down, he watched the DJ strut over to him. It was funny; up until fifteen minutes ago, he’d always assumed she was a normal, albeit large mare - now, having discovered she was exceptionally well endowed, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her equipment.

“Sweet Celestia, you really do have it bad,” she laughed.

Following her gaze, he looked down his chest. His stallionhood, so hard that it hurt, was leaking pre-cum like a faucet. He hadn’t so much as touched himself and he felt like he could cum at any second. When he rolled his head back and found her standing right in front of him, he understood why she’d had him take the position: Situated as he was, his face was level with her groin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she planned to do with him, and his pulse quickened at the thought.

Patting the mattress to either side of his head, Vinyl grinned down at him. “Hands…”

Without questioning her, he lifted his arms and brought his hands towards hers. In the blink of an eye, she roughly seized his wrists and pinned his limbs in place. Given her size and supine position, he was totally at her mercy. His concern must have been easy to notice, since she slowly shook her head above him.

“Trust me, it’s for your own good,” she tutted, gradually aligning her stallionhood with his face. “Mares don’t get to get off unless they’re told to. Now then, open wide…” As his mouth obediently hung open, she stepped forward and brought her cock to his awaiting maw. “Deep breath,” she purred and began grinding her length into his muzzle.

Pinned as he was, all Citi could do was hold his jaw open and pray she’d take it easy on him. His lips painfully stretched around her length, until he thought he couldn’t handle any more. Peering down the underside of her shaft, seeing he’d only managed to take roughly a third of her in his snout, his blood ran cold. He had no idea how he could service, but it appeared that that mystery was about to be solved for him. As the colossal tool delved deeper, nudging the back of his throat, he stifled a gag.

Though he writhed beneath her, his head remained firmly in place. Through sheer force of will, he was able to fight the urge to bite down or resist. He’d seen folks throat comparably sized toys or dicks before, so he knew it was possible, but that did little to calm his nerves. Drawing a deep breath and remembering her words, he did what he could to relax himself.

Sensing the opening, she thrust herself into his muzzle. “Good girl,” she purred.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when she plunged her shaft into his esophagus. What oxygen he’d taken in was trapped in his lungs, as his airway was thoroughly plugged. The mare wasted no time, lazily humping his face and driving herself deeper into his gullet. Concern over his lips coping with the immense intrusion was eclipsed by something far more profound - he could feel his throat bulging outward.

The only sounds to escape him were the occasional muted sputter or cough. Mercifully, either out of pity or experience, she occasionally withdrew just enough to give him a sip of air. It was both the hottest and most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced, and he would have gleefully gotten off to the event if he’d had use of his hands. However, he was relegated to grinding his thighs together and smearing them with the steady stream of pre-cum dribbling from his prick.

Uncaring for his comfort or wish to get off, Vinyl increased her rhythm. Her long, steady strokes transitioned into much more forceful, shorter plunges as she inched deeper and deeper into him. Eventually cutting off his airway entirely, with her balls swinging forward to slap against his eyes, she used him like he was little more than a disposable toy.

Despite the harsh treatment, his arousal outshone his fear. His lungs burned, his heart thundered wildly in his chest, and a panic welled within him, yet he could think of nothing but the mare plowing his muzzle. She was simply astonishing, superior to him in every way, and a part of him embraced his inferior role; compared to her, he deserved to be wantonly abused.

Wholly choked by her magnificence, the only sounds filling the room were the behemoth mare’s grunts, his choking, and the steady Plap Plap Plap of her balls impacting his face. As badly as he wanted to jack off, a more pressing issue robbed him of his bliss. His vision blurred and his thoughts grew muddied, as the lack of oxygen took a heavy toll.

Without any warning or preamble, Vinyl took a final step forward, hilted herself in his snout, and started jackhammering his face. His head limply hung over the edge of the bed, giving her all the depth she needed, while her shaft madly throbbed in his throat. He couldn’t say how long he stayed like that, teetering on the brink of passing out, until he spied her nuts snuggling against her groin.

Right as he was about to go under, her climax shook him back to reality. What felt like liters of spunk surged through her pulsing length, being directly deposited into his stomach. His thrashing intensified as his belly gurgled from the insane influx of cum.

On and on her climax went, his gut ballooning outwards. How she could produce such a prolific load was as amazing as it was frightening, yet there was nothing he could do. Giving a final fitful hump to ensure that the last spurt of her essence joined the rest, she sluggishly retracted her hips and stepped away.

Just before she withdrew her stallionhood from his maw, she stopped and cranked her shaft. Reflexively coughing, refreshing his lungs, the final bits of her cum sailed from his nose and from around her softening length. He would have been mortified with the development, had he not been literally bloated with jizz and grateful for the air he’d so desperately needed.

Chuckling to herself as she hauled her cock free of his muzzle, she stared down at him for a fleeting moment. Having expelled a seemingly endless wellspring of seed from her balls, she released his arms and pushed him further onto the bed. As his head slid up and onto the mattress, he weakly smiled—at least until she turned away. Before he could react, she squatted down and smashed his face into the cleft of her ass.

The second his muzzle was pressed to her sweaty, musky pucker, his body was rocked with the most intense climax he’d ever experienced. His hips fitfully bucked into the air, his prick spewing a comparatively pitiable load over his distended abdomen and chest; in that moment, she became his entire world. Mewling into her rump while he pawed at her thighs, he rode out his orgasmic bliss.

“Told you you’d love it,” she snickered, standing tall and wheeling back around to face him. “Now, then,” she cooed, slapping his cheek with her semi-erect length. “Be a good bitch and lick me clean.”

Without so much as a second thought, Citi put himself to work mopping the cum and saliva from her shaft. Eagerly swallowing down every bit of her seed, he lovingly caressed her thighs. He would never have believed he was capable of doing something so raunchy with someone so famous, yet here he was, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Shit, hang on,” she grunted, abruptly stepping away. Trotting to her luggage, she stooped down and rummaged around for a moment. “Here,” she chirped, tossing him a bright pink length of leather. “If you want to see me again, you’re gonna wear that twenty-four-seven. Got it?”

Citi nodded, inspecting the collar. It was embossed with the word Princess, but his cum-addled mind only vaguely realized the implications of the order. Slipping it around his neck and fastening it in place, he smiled dreamily at her.

“There’s a good girl,” she hummed, walking by and patting his head. “Keep your phone on you, 'cause I'll want pics of you wearing that...You know, to make sure you’re staying faithful.”

“O...ok,” he wheezed.

“That’s another thing,” she groused, nonchalantly digging into his pants and taking his phone. “If we’re really going to do this, you’re going to call me Mistress,” she continued, tapping away at the device. “I just put my number in here, so expect an occasional text.”

Citi bobbed his head and rolled to his side, unsteadily righting himself. “Alright…”

“Alright what?” she snarled.

“Alright, Mistress,” he corrected, bashfully looking away from her.

“Good girl,” she huffed, that smugness returning. Cracking her beer and waved her hand as she took a draught. “I’ll be in town for the next few days, so expect a call or text.”

As Citi got to his feet, glancing over to his discarded clothes, he was unsure of how to proceed. Some part of him was starting to process what she’d said, but he was still having a hard time understanding what it all meant. Somehow, he’d curried favor with the DJ, and she’d promised that she’d be in touch. Looking towards the restroom, knowing he needed to get cleaned up, the sound of a clearing throat caught his ear.

“Before you ask, no, you can’t use the shower. I want you to go home absolutely reeking of me - that being said, I’m sure you’ll be getting off to it later…” she mused.

He knew she was right, already feeling blood rush to his dick. Without saying another word, he got dressed, donned his shoes, and saw himself out. The whole evening had been an insane whirlwind of events and, honestly, he could scarcely believe it had happened. Languidly moving through the hotel and into the parking lot, he patted the phone in his pocket. As strange as the day had been, something told him that things were only going to get more bizarre from here on out…