If someone had told you back in March that it would get this bad, you would have told them to f*ck off and kept on wanking for free.

But here you are, down to your last dollar, in the middle of a pandemic, half naked on an exam table at your local sp*rm bank. A good buddy had told you about the racket, an easy way for a guy to get by in these unprecedented times. Just one good nut a week could earn you enough cash for a bunch of cheap burgers and good drinks. And if you were *really good* at it, almost enough to pay the rent.

You’re a l*ttle weirded out by the whole situation, but at least the nurse is nice. Pretty, too. Even behind the mask, you can tell she’s got full lips and a sliver tongue. Her twinkling, mischievous eyes stay fixed on you. She seems to be relishing your nervousness, which is embarrassing, but also kind of hot. You have no problem admitting when a woman’s got the upper-hand on you, and she’s certainly got it here. Her clinic, her rules, her standing squarely between you and your next meal. You really have no choice but to comply with whatever she asks.

She’s holding the magazines you requested – lots of femdom stuff, along with some creampie and b*kkake smut for good measure – but to be honest, her presence alone is enough for you to get off to. Her light laughter, subtle teasing and h*ney-rich voice already have you half-hard and wanting.

She explains how the process works, what to expect. She’s professional and thorough, so when she casually grabs your d*ck like she owns it and offers to show you how to work it, it feels like a natural progression. It’s part of her job, after all. But your d*ck doesn’t know that. It just knows a dominant, pretty girl is touching it and gets twice as hard.

Her machinations feel good...really good especially when she’s speaking in that soft, slow patter and making you more compliant with every word.

The first nut is mindblowing. Sudden and vicious and full. Everything you crave in an *rgasm. But she won’t stop stroking, won’t stop talking, and for some reason you don’t seem to have the presence of mind to speak up. You’re too wrecked, too sensitive and too mindblown to ask her to stop.

You’re trembling now, blank and broken and leaking in her palm. But she just rubs your thigh and pets you - soothing you and teasing you and encouraging you to fill up her beaker again. She says something about making it overflow.

Truly, you’re gone now, and unsure how much there is left to give her. Nevertheless, you’re just along for the ride at this point. You finally begin to understand that she will find a way to milk you dry whether you believe it or not. And you’re not going to have a problem with that, no matter how dehydrated or raw or oversensitive you become. No matter how you know you’re trapped at the sp*rm bank...and getting robbed.

*contains sound effects and binaural beat, no music

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