A noise from the side of the room broke Karen from her fantasy of drowning in cum. Her hand continued to rub at her soaking snatch but her head snapped toward the source of the scraping sound and she gasped: a cock was jutting from the wall, huge, erect, and waiting.
She couldn't. It was wrong to be such a wanton slut, no matter how great it had been with the shemale and how powerful her new fantasies were. She was better than her base desires; she was a human being, with ambitions, a job, and friends. And a ravenous thirst for cum.
The cock started to withdraw and she scrambled for the wall, but it was too late. The jizz-cannon was gone.
'Please, come back,' she begged. She peered through the hole, trying to spot the man who had just been there, but there was only darkness. 'I'll suck you off, I promise! I didn't mean to make you wait. I'll be a good slut and swallow every drop, I swear! Please!'
Somewhere beyond the hole she heard a door shut. He was gone. She wanted to cry from the humiliation. She wasn't like this. It was this place, these experiments that had her all messed up. She needed to stand up, reclaim her dignity, demand that they let her go.
The door to her room opened. There was no one there. Could she leave? Were they sparing her from sucking any more yummy cocks? Another sound came through the hole - the door there had opened too and there were footsteps approaching. If another cock appeared she knew she'd hoover it like a whore. This was her only chance. She needed to run. Now.