As a professional sex slave, I started off just serving two people: Cole and Vanessa. They're a bisexual married couple who hired me to be their live-in sex slave to help them spice up their sex lives.
However, Cole and Vanessa have also acted as agents who hire me out to sexually submit to other dominant people and then they take a percentage of my earnings. I'm very popular amongst a certain segment of the population and every time Cole or Vanessa rent my ass out, I make even more money.
A while back, I had been hired to submit to a wealthy woman named Ms. Agren. She stripped me naked, tied me up, spanked me and did a variety of other humiliating things to me before she ordered me to go down on her. She got her money's worth and when she called Vanessa yesterday, I assumed that she wanted to do painful and humiliating things to me again.
Vanessa explained that she had different ideas this time.
"She has a teenage son named René," she explained. "He's gay and he just turned eighteen. She wants to present you to him as a birthday present."
"Isn't that going to be awkward?" I asked. "Knowing that they both had sex with the same guy?"
"Rich people don't think the same way you and I do," Vanessa explained. "They don't see you so much as a person, as a product. It's like she took a luxury car for a test drive, and now her son is doing the same thing. There won't be any awkward emotions involved for people like them."
It felt weird knowing that I'd be abused and sexually objectified and molested by Ms. Agren's teenage son after having been abused and molested by her, but such is the life of a sex slave, I guess. Vanessa set up a time and place for me to meet René and I showed up.
René's family lived in an estate house on four or five acres of land with a security gate and a four-car garage. I had to be buzzed in to get onto the property and was told to park my car and meet René at the front door.
When he opened the door, I was surprised. René had boyish good looks, with high cheekbones, full, pouty lips, wavy hair, a flat belly, and a slender waist.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy who needs to pay for sex," I commented as I was escorted into his home. "You have a nice face and a nice body. Why is your mother paying me to have sex with you?"
René shrugged his shoulders and said, "My mother is showing off. She has millions of dollars in disposable income, and she likes to make sure people know it."
He told me that his mother had also paid for him to have a personal trainer, French tutor, and a traveling companion when he went to Europe. He never asked for any of these things. His mother just felt there was no point in being wealthy if you couldn't make huge, public, ostentatious public displays of spending your money.
"My mother is out in Napa Valley for two days, and the servants all have the day off. So, we have the whole house to ourselves," René informed me casually.
It was a relief finding out that we wouldn't have an audience. It would have been awkward having his mother around. I mean, I'd already had sex with her and now she was hiring me to have sex with her son? Having her watch me and her son together would crank the awkwardness level up to eleven.
He led me into a large, well-appointed kitchen, pushed me up against a stainless-steel refrigerator and placed his mouth over mine. He kissed me enthusiastically, and when he tried to work his tongue into my mouth, I let him. As a sex slave, it was only proper that I allow him to do whatever he wanted with my body.
The kiss went on for a long, long time, and when René broke from the kiss, we were both breathing heavily. His body was still pressed close to mine and then he placed a hand between my legs and felt up my cock and balls through my clothes.
"Your cock is soft," he commented as he rubbed his hand up and down my crotch. "I'm a little new to this sort of thing, but if you were hired as a sex worker, shouldn't you be hard for me? I feel like it's kind of insulting if I invite you over for sex, and you show up with a soft cock."
I squirmed uncomfortably at the question and tried to will my cock to get hard and erect, but I couldn't just get erect on command.
"I can get hard for you," I explained. "It just takes some effort sometimes."
"Because I'm not a woman?" he asked. "Is that why you're having trouble getting hard?"
I hesitated before answering. I had a feeling that René was unaccustomed to the sort of kinky stuff his mother did and I was worried how he would react when I tried to explain it to him.
"No, because you're being kind and gentle. Your mother was rough with me, my cock tends to respond well to that sort of thing."
He stopped rubbing his hand up and down my crotch, gave me an intense look and said, "Rough, how?"
I took a deep breath and explained. "Your mother gave me a spanking that left my ass sore for days, she threatened to whip me, she buckled a slave collar around my throat and led me around on a leash, she made me crawl on my hands and knees, she pinched the tip of my cock and my foreskin hard enough that my eyes welled up with tears, she took me into the shower and scrubbed me all over with a scrub brush, especially the most sensitive parts of my body, like my nipples, my inner thighs and my cock."
René's eyes got wide as I explained these things to him. I suppose he never imagined that his mother was into anything quite so wild or kinky.
There was a long, protracted silence and I worried he might decide to throw me out of the house for telling him about the things his mother and I did together. I feared it might have been too much for him to deal with.
However, when he next spoke, he didn't throw me out, he just said, "So, if I did those things to you, you'd have no problems getting hard for me?"
"No problem at all," I said honestly. "Be firm with me, use me, objectify me, give me orders, if I'm slow to obey, punish me harshly, or punish me just to see how I'll react. I'm an extreme masochist. The more you punish me, the harder my cock will get."
By the time I had finished explaining all of this, my heart was beating a little faster and my breathing was a little more excited. René gave me a dubious look, but eventually seemed to decide I was telling the truth.
"Alright then, I think I can work with that," he commented. "Now, get out of those clothes. I want to see you naked."
I took off my shoes and socks first and then stripped out of my shirt. Then I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants.
"Give me your belt," René said. "I can use that to punish you, right?"
I was surprised by the question. Normally masters and mistresses don't ask such questions. They just punish their slaves with whatever implements they choose.
"Of course, you can," I replied as I handed him my belt.
"Have you ever been punished with a leather belt before?" René asked.
"Many times."
"Isn't it painful?"
"Oh, very much so. That's kind of the point. It's supposed to hurt."
I pulled my pants down to my ankles, stepped out of them and then hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs. And by the time I pulled those down, my cock had already begun to get hard. I suppose all this talk of punishments did something to incite my libido.
"I'm interested to see what sort of pain tolerance you have," René said. He pointed towards the stainless-steel refrigerator and said, "Stand there, with your hands pressed against the metal, spread your legs far apart and stick your ass out for me."
As René became more domineering and imperious, the more I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my cock throbbing between my legs. I scurried to obey, placing my hands above my head, and pressed into the cold, stainless steel. I spread my legs pornographically wide, wanting to feel as helpless and vulnerable as possible.
"You have a very cute butt," René said after spending several minutes examining my naked body with his eyes. Then he grabbed my buttocks and squeezed them, one buttock at a time, apparently approving of my muscle tone.
"It's very firm and sculpted. You obviously work your legs and your glutes. You take good care of your body. I have no complaints about your buttocks, but I'm going to spank them now anyway."
"Yes, sir," I replied and tensed up, waiting for the first blow.
"You're not going to try and talk me out of it?"
"No, sir. When you're a sex slave, you sort of expect corporal punishment."
"Even when you haven't done anything wrong?" he asked, sounding confused.
"Even then. Some masters just like to hear their slaves whimper or sob in pain. Others like to see handprints or belt marks on their slave's skin. They think it looks sexy."
René still seemed uncertain. He was obviously inexperienced when it came to BDSM games and he was uncertain of the rules, but now that he had begun, he didn't want to stop.... although he kept looking to me for hints on how to move forward.
