My job as a sex toy test subject [F21/M30/M22]

I have a very unconventional job, okay?

Well, product testing in itself isn't that strange. But product testing for a sex toy company, and being said test subject?

Yeah, not the kind of job you talk about over family dinner, or add on your resume.

It was just a temporary job, so I could actually afford the unpaid internship at the book publisher I had this coming summer. And well, it was either that or getting screamed at by retail customers for, like, $12 an hour.

Everyone at the sex-toy company thought I was just Mrs. Johnson's assistant. I was, but I did a lot more than file her paperwork and maintain her schedule.

My real role at her company was strictly confidential, and legally could not be disclosed to any future employers.

So I basically had strangers pleasure me with sex toys in board rooms, got paid handsomely, and everyone else was none the wiser.

We'd done some presentations for tech companies before, similar to where we were today, but the men were all usually older, reserved. The most they'd do was use a vibrator on me for a bit, or fiddle with the nipple clamps. Older guys just loved my young pussy and my big tits and pink nipples.

These guys were younger though, the oldest in the room, besides Mrs. Johnson, maybe late 30s.

Mrs. Johnson was finishing up her normal spiel, about the importance of sex positivity and having a diverse line of products designed to pleasure women in various ways.

The men seated around the circular table were eagerly listening, asking questions and taking notes. They'd passed around several of our prototypes and quietly conversed amongst themselves.

The bespeckled assistant seated in the corner of the room was watching in awe and trying so hard to hide his raging hard-on, it was almost endearing.

The men had been glancing at me periodically, ever since Mrs. Johnson introduced me and explained my presence. But the guy directly across from me — dark brown hair and a bit of stubble, Damon, I think — was tapping his pen on the glass and looking at me like he wanted to devour me whole.

"Just to make sure I didn't misunderstand," he said, when Mrs. Johnson asked if there were any further questions, "is it really part of Miss Marina's job description to allow potential clients to try the products out on her?"

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Johnson replied. "She's been a wonderful test subject and is happy to either demonstrate herself, or have you use the toys and devices on her."

He tilted his head, and didn't even try to hide the way he drank in the sight of me.

"And I can do whatever I want?"

"Yes, within reason," she replied. "We just ask that you refrain from harming her, and communicate what you would like to do with her."

He grinned, and stared me down from his seat. "Of course."

Mrs. Johnson picked up two of the briefcases of inventory and plopped it on the table.

"Be my guest."

He pushed back from his chair and pulled the cases towards him, his eyes twinkling as he scanned their contents.

"Miss Marina, please strip and lay down on the table," he said.

I took a deep, steadying breath, and did as asked.

There was a quiet murmur of admiration as I slid out of my dress, revealing my black lace bra and panties. The reaction grew stronger when I shed those, too.

Naked, flushed, and very aware of my audience, I stretched out on the cool glass surface of the conference table. My legs stayed pressed together as I looked up at Damon, waiting for further instructions.

"Closer," he said, crooking his finger. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

Completely naked, and face scorching hot, I scooted down the table until I was just a few feet from him.

"Pick whichever dildo you want," he said, "spread your legs, and fuck yourself for us, please."

His voice was so damn smooth, like he was asking me to pass the salt at dinner.

I bent my knees and widened them, heels tucked near my ass, giving them all a perfect view.

I hesitated only a moment before reaching for one of the sleek silicone toys. Deep purple, ribbed for extra sensation, slightly curved to hit the perfect spot.

Lube wasn't strictly necessary—I was already embarrassingly wet—but I still coated the toy before positioning it between my spread legs. Slowly, deliberately, I slid it inside, gasping as my pussy stretched around it.

The room was silent, save for the obscene wet noises of the toy sinking into me.

"Miss Marina," Damon murmured, watching with sharp eyes. "I have a feeling you can go a lot harder."

I swallowed hard and glanced back at Mrs. Johnson, who gave me a small nod of encouragement.

Gritting my teeth, I tightened my grip and began thrusting the dildo into myself harder, faster, my arm trembling with the effort. The slick, squelching sounds grew louder.

"Holy shit," someone muttered.

I didn't dare look up. I felt their stares—hot, heavy, searing into every inch of my bare, trembling body.

A soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

"She's enjoying herself," Damon said smugly. "That's good. Let's see if we can make this even better."

He reached for a pair of sleek black clamps and turned to Mrs. Johnson. "I assume these are the vibrating nipple clamps?"

Mrs. Johnson nodded. "Correct. They provide adjustable pressure and consistent stimulation."

Damon smiled as he tested the controls, the clamps humming to life in his hand.

"Let's put them to good use."

He leaned over me, fingers teasing over my already stiff nipples. His touch was infuriatingly light, making me shiver. Then, with practiced precision, he fastened the clamps onto my nipples, adjusting them just tight enough to send a sharp jolt of sensation through me.

And then he turned them on.

A cry tore from my throat as the vibrations shot straight through me, pleasure rippling down my spine. My back arched off the table, my chest thrusting toward him involuntarily.

"She looks so fucking good like this," someone murmured.

Damien tilted his head, watching me squirm. "She does, doesn't she?"

My whimpers grew louder, needier. The combination of the relentless toy inside me and the vibrating clamps had me trembling, heat pooling in my core.

I kept my legs wide open to give them a good view. A couple men stood up from their chairs and moved to the end of the table, to have a head on view, others stayed at the sides closest to me. One even reached over and tugged on the chain connecting the clamps, groaning when I whimpered.

I loved these vibrating nipple clamps. They were perfect, even if they were making me writhe uncontrollably on this table in front of all these people.

My pussy clenched when a laugh rang out, and someone, somewhere spoke.

"Fuck, look at the puddle under her," he said. "And she hasn't even cum yet."

My arm was shaking from the effort, but I didn't stop pounding my cunt.

"It looks — and sounds — like she's really damn close to cumming though," Damon mused. "Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes," I whispered.

"Louder."

My hand started moving faster and faster. "Yes, yes I'm really really close."

A chorus of curses flitted through the room.

Everytime I thought about the situation, I felt my pussy shove out more wetness. Without any orders, I started fucking myself with the dildo as hard as I physically could, and didn't try to hold back the moans anymore.

"That's it," someone said.

"Fuck that tight pussy," another said.

My orgasm was right there, so close I could taste it, when Damon spoke.

"Please stop, Miss Marina."

I looked up at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but I did as he asked.

"But—"

"Now what's special about this one?" he asked Mrs. Johnson, gesturing to the toy in his hand and completely ignoring me.

"It is an artificial phallus specifically designed to stimulate the Gräfenburg spot, hence the curve of the silicone, as well as the clitoris, if you note the protruding nodules that align with it when fully inserted," she replied.

I didn't want him to pick that thing up, because that thing fucking worked. I should know — I had two in my bedside table, and those bad boys were exhausted. And so was my washing machine, from how often I had to wash my sheets as a result.

"Now I think we'd all like to see this one in action," he said, glancing back at me and smiling.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Would you like me to use the device on myself, sir?"

"I think I'd like to use it on you, if you don't mind," he replied. "You know, so I can really learn how it works."

This was going to be so humiliating, I already knew it.

And I already knew there was no way I was making it out of this boardroom without soaking this table.

"Before we do that though," he said, turning the toy over in his hand. "CJ, would you come here for a second?"

The shy looking assistant's eyes widened and he scrambled to Damon's side, who was now holding another item from the briefcase.

"These are the…" Damon glanced at Mrs. Johnson, "miniature nipple suckers, correct?"

"Yes, one of our most popular items."

And one of my personal favorites. A bit gentler than nipple clamps, and a whole other kind of stimulation.

"CJ, put these on lovely Miss Marina, won't ya?"

He nearly snatched them out of his hand and sped over to my side.

I removed one nipple clamp, and he removed the other. He didn't immediately place the suckers on, instead just stared at my chest.

"Can…can I squeeze them a bit?"

I nodded, and he immediately grabbed both my tits in his hands.

A moan tore from my throat as he massaged my big tits, palms lightly grazing my slightly sore and sensitive nipples. I could've let CJ keep doing it for longer, but he eventually stopped and started to attach the suctions.

He gave me one last squeeze before he stepped away and roughly gripped his crotch.

And then I looked back to Damon, who was positioning the silicone cock at my entrance.

I moaned — really fucking loud — as he slid the dildo into me.

He gave me a few test pumps, murmuring something about how my pussy lips were gripping the toy. And then he started pounding me.

"Come on you little slut," he said. "Cum for us."

I knew this feeling all too well. I was going to cum — I was going to squirt — in public.

"I-I can't," I cried.

He laughed. "Yes, you can," he said. "You're so close. I can see how tight your pussy is gripping this."

Faster. He somehow pumped the fake cock in and out of me even faster. I was a wreck, and I sounded like it, moaning and whimpering and half-screaming.

"Thats right, you pretty little slut," he grunted. "Cum for me."

"No, please, you-I-I can't — FUCK!"

I was right there, and desperately trying to hold back what I knew would be a very messy orgasm.

"What's the matter, huh?" Damon taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "Scared you're gonna squirt all over this conference room?"

He cranked up the power, driving the toy into me harder, faster. And then—he laughed. Fucking laughed—as I screamed.

"That's exactly what you're about to do."

"PLEASE, NO, I — AHH FUCK!"

The dam broke.

A gush of fluid shot from my pussy, splashing against Damon's arm, soaking the table beneath me. My body convulsed, writhing uncontrollably as wave after wave surged through me, my thighs trembling, my chest rising and falling in desperate, heaving breaths.

But Damon didn't stop.

I had already drenched the sleeve of his suit, but he remained unfazed, relentless, slamming the toy into me, dragging out every last shuddering aftershock.

"Good girl, keep squirting for us," he grunted. "Holy fuck, yes."

The room buzzed with murmurs of approval—low groans, quiet curses—but I could barely process them.

I'd had big orgasms before. I'd squirted plenty. But this? This was insane.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck— I-I can't stop!" I sobbed, my body convulsing violently, liquid still pouring from me. "I CAN'T STOP—PLEASE, SIR, I—I CAN'T—"

But he kept going, kept fucking me through it and making me flood the table until my body had nothing left to give.

Finally, finally, Damon eased the toy out of me. I collapsed against the table, panting, trembling, so fucking aware of every inch of my overstimulated body.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw CJ bolt from the room, hand clamped over a very obvious wet spot on his slacks.

I almost laughed.

Damon exhaled, running a hand through his tousled hair. Then, after a beat, he slid off his blazer, rolled up his sleeves, and turned his attention back to me.

"I know that probably took a lot out of you," Damon said after a few moments. His voice was calm, teasing—like he hadn't just completely wrecked me in front of a room full of people.

My gaze lowered to where he was readjusting the bulge in his pants.

"But I think we're all dying to see how this vibrating cock sleeve works." His smirk deepened. "Would you be willing to let me test it out on you?"

I had never had a client ask for this before. But after everything he'd just done to me, I wasn't the least bit surprised at his boldness.

I tilted my head back to look at Mrs. Johnson.

She smiled, hands open in a your choice gesture.

"That's entirely up to you, dear."

I almost wished she had answered for me, so I wouldn't have to. Because obviously, I was going to say yes.

The deal was already sealed—my answer wouldn't change anything. But my sore, sensitive body still clenched at the thought of getting fucked in front of an audience.

"Please fuck me, sir."

A few men let out low exhales at my words.

Damon's smirk deepened.

He unbuckled his belt, his fingers moving with deliberate ease, then freed himself.

I tried not to gawk.

Thick. Heavy. Hard.

Mrs. Johnson stepped forward, handing him a condom and a few quick instructions on how to properly position the sleeve.

Even without the toy, I knew he was going to be a tight fit. My pussy was worked open and soaked, but Damon was huge.

He lined himself up, and then—slowly—started to push in.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he forced himself inside, stretching me wide.

I gasped, my body tensing as he sank deeper, inch by inch, filling me completely.

And then—

The vibrations kicked in.

Damon jerked, his hips stuttering as the sleeve whirred to life around him.

"Oh, f-fuck—" His voice was strained, breathless.

Someone chuckled. "Good, huh?"

Damon let out a sharp exhale, gripping my waist harder. "‘Good' is a fucking understatement."

He started delivering slow, powerful thrusts. His moans were better than any porn star I'd ever heard.

I didn't know if this thing was a pleasure toy or a torture device.

Not only did the sleeve turn his cock into the world's greatest vibrating dildo, but the small bullet vibrator at the base slammed against my clit every time he bottomed out.

"Holy shit," I gasped.

Damon growled. "Fuck, this thing—"

He cut himself off with a shuddering breath, then picked up the pace.

His hands tightened around my waist as he started pounding into me, his thrusts turning ruthless. My tits bounced wildly from the force of it, his eyes locked onto them.

I had nothing to hold onto, nowhere to brace myself—so I reached for my own breasts, squeezing, teasing my sensitive nipples.

A chorus of low groans rumbled around the room.

"Play with your nipples," someone murmured.

I did, rolling them between my fingers, gasping as I clenched down around Damon's cock.

Neither of us was going to last long.

His grip on me was bruising, his breathing ragged as he fucked me into next week.

It was too much, too intense. I was going to explode.

I thought I was empty. I was wrong.

I let out a wrecked, sobbing moan as I tensed—and then another gush of liquid sprayed from my pussy, splattering across Damon's crisp white shirt.

Damon groaned. Loud.

"Fuck, yes."

With one final, brutal thrust, he slammed all the way inside me and came.

His grip on my hips tightened as he spilled into the condom with a long groan.

For a moment, neither of us moved, panting, coming down from the high.

Eventually, Damon exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before slowly pulling out.

He started cleaning himself up, and To my surprise, he even wiped up some of the mess coating my thighs.

I just laid there.

Limp. Satisfied. Wonderfully humiliated.

Around me, the men alternated between staring at my spent body, admiring the mess I had made, and casually discussing business with Mrs. Johnson as if I wasn't still sprawled out, ruined, on the table.

Yeah, it's a weird job. But it might be one of the greatest jobs in the world.