My phone pinged. I got a text. I picked it up to see a photo of me with a dick in my mouth and cum oozing out the corner of my lips. It was Frank's way of letting me know he was on his way. Again. I had half an hour to shower, shave, put on my cock-cage, and kneel in wait at the center of my living room.

I hated it when he did that. There was no telling who else might see that cursed image. I had put a lock on my phone to assure some level of privacy but despised the thought of it even existing out there in cyberspace. Try as I might, there was no denying it was me dripping with another man's cum. The pang of embarrassment got sharper each time I saw it. 

I met Frank in an online hook-up site and exchanged numbers when we decided to meet. I'm very submissive sexually and he was dominant. Our first time left me panting and feeling totally used - just the way I had hoped he would. I was hoping he'd become a regular, but when I got that photo a week later, I was filled with anger as much as regret. He must have taken a picture during our encounter that I was unaware of, and now he was using it to let me know he was on his way. Again. It became a weekly event.

As much as I hated Frank ignoring my protests in using that photo, I hated it even more that it secretly turned me on. Being on-call for his perverse use of my face excited me as much as looking into the mirror afterward. I was always left dripping in drool and semen and feeling like a total slut. And it looked as though I was going to do it all again. In less than half an hour. I had better hurry.

I showered and shaved and donned my cage. The cage was a reminder that I wasn't worthy of getting off, but I had a difficult time trying to ebb my hard-on enough to wear it. I made it to the center of my living room with only a minute to spare. I made sure the door was unlocked and knelt down in wait for what promised to be another incredible cum-filled experience with Frank.

On-the-dot, the doorknob turned and slowly opened. It wasn't Frank! I was too flush with embarrassment to say anything. All I could think of was what I must have looked like and stooped forward in a feeble attempt at hiding myself. My phone pinged again.

"Frank sent me," was all he said as if I knew what that meant. He removed his clothing and stepped up to me. "Get up, cocksucker. I've heard you're good. Now prove it."

My mind raced as I acquiesced and slowly straightened up to see some guy tugging his dick inches from my face. He said that Frank sent him and called me a good cocksucker. Was Frank whoring me out? What the fuck! Before I had a chance to protest, he grabbed my head by the hair and shoved himself into my mouth. He was bigger than Frank and much rougher. He pounded my face like a dog in heat and didn't let up until he spewed semen in the depths of my throat.

He finally let go of my head, dressed, and headed out. "Yeah, you're good," he said before the door closed. I was still dripping in semen and kneeling in a daze with what just happened when the door opened again. A wholly new guy stepped in.

"Frank tells me you like to play," he said as he removed his clothes. Like the previous guy, he walked up to me and waved his growing dick in my face. "Take my cock, pig."

I was nude, caged, and dipping semen. There was no denying what had just happened. What choice did I have?

I opened my mouth and expected insertion when I was grabbed by my hair, pulled to, and thrown over the armrest of my sofa. "No, pig, it's your ass I want," he said as I felt him rubbing my anus with his spit. I never wanted to experience anal sex, but the feel of his slippery dick working my anus made me squirm my ass in an inviting response. I soon felt his dick enter me, and the sensation was incredible. He soon fucked me like the pig he said I was, and I reveled in the sensations. Yes, I felt cheap, used, and a total on-call whore. But damn, I couldn't help but feel excited about it.

I learned later that Frank has been passing out my address - and that photo. I don't know if he's been getting paid or he's just flexing his dominance over me. I really don't care either way. The origins of photo-texts are all different, but I believe I've had at least six different men, besides Frank, use my face and ass to get off. Seems like every other day I'm left in a cum-covered heap. I don't want to disappoint Frank, so I'm ready half an hour after getting that pic, from whomever. And I'm okay with the whore I've become.

Thank you, Frank, for exposing my deepest desires.