Sold

Author's Note: This time you will read from her point of view. This picks up directly after Chapter 2. As usual my warning stands: This is written in a dystopian setting where contract slavery is normal. Everything is consensual, even if it's not always warm and fuzzy.

By the time I felt the car stop, my legs shook. Every orgasm after the last two had torn through me, one after the other until it felt like the world hung clouded. My body felt like a tense spring, dripping desire and hyper sensitive to the plug and phallus embedded in me.

The toys didn't quiet until he pulled the door open. I managed to unbuckle and somehow got to my knees to follow him in. Everything tipped and spun, but one limb went in front of the other until he stopped me in the entry hall. The cool smooth tiles soothed my aching knees.

He tugged his leash twice to get my attention up to him, then ordered, "Back up two paces from the door, slave, and show me your waiting position."

It took a minute for my brain to sort out what he meant; I retreated from him and then knelt in my deep spread. Hands rested on my thighs, I put my eyes down on the tiles and tried to pull back my shoulders a little further. Pretty slaves are supposed to be easily accessible when waiting.

His tongue clicked in disapproval. "Box your arms behind you, and raise your chest, slave. Your chin should be level to the floor, not tipped down."

I tried to correct quickly, but his fingers still readjusted my chin to be in the place he wanted it.

"There. Memorize that pose, little slut, you'll be in it often," he warned. "My slaves greet me at the door when I return, and this is how they wait for my pleasure. Now look in my eyes."

I made myself raise my eyes and stare into his. It remained hard after being drilled for years that a slave was not to look their owner in the eye; the instinctual part of me wanted to look away. I knew that if I did he would not be forgiving.

Intensity described his gaze. I felt as though I were before a judge handing down a sentence. Under the fog of fatigue, it felt as though his eyes pressed a weight onto my shoulders and sunk me an inch into the tiles.

"Take out my cock," he ordered smoothly, "And show me how you worship with your mouth."

Worship remained tricky; I knew every Master has his own preferences. Reaching up, I gently unhooked the button of his trousers and then drew down the zipper. My thumbs hooked in the waist band of his trousers and boxers before pulling both down in one motion to free his cock.

The shaft twitched; hard already and weighted by it so that it pointed directly at me. Leaning forward, I slowly pressed a kiss to the crown of it, using my tongue to lightly swirl over its tip. The groan told me I was on the right track. Dipping lower, I took the flat of my tongue and licked a long line up from his sack, all the way up the shaft, and flicked it off the head.

I pressed open mouthed kisses along the sides of his shaft, slickening it to get it ready for my lips. I couldn't help it; I moaned as I drank in his scent, his sounds with each swipe of my tongue. This is what I loved about being a slave.

Wrapping my lips around him only intensified the feeling as I looked up into his eyes. Fucking his cock with my mouth, I hollowed my cheeks and made sure to glide my tongue along the sensitive underside. When his breaths got shorter, I made each stroke quicker, firmer. I ached to feel him fill me, to taste his pleasure and know I'd done well.

His hands descended to my hair; his hips rocked to meet my thrusts. Ever the cockhungry little slut, I couldn't help but marvel how he pulled me deeper still. His hands took over the rhythm; my only job was to suck and I made sure to do it thoroughly as each push of his cock deeper came fast. He was rutting against my face when I felt that heavy pulse and his cock erupted.

I swallowed the treat I was fed, grateful he'd allowed it instead of covering me. When he released my head, I was careful to lick him completely clean. A good slave wasted not a drop of cum and I so wanted to be his good slave.

"Very nice, slave." He gently stroked my cheek before tucking himself away. "But we have more to do today."

"Expectations you will learn with time, but I am going to give you the basics of them now and you will repeat them back to me until you get them right," he warned. "If I need to motivate you, I will."

"First, you will always kneel or crawl when you are before you Master, but out of my sight you may be on your feet. You will see to your grooming, prepare a full lunch and dinner each day in addition to completing your chores no later than six o clock. I expect balanced meals, little slut, enough for two with a protein, vegetable, carbohydrate, and some form of fruit. You will eat with me or after I have finished but I will have you track your intakes to ensure you're eating enough."

"You will prepare coffee in the mornings, three scoops to five cups in ratio, and ensure there is a cup, saucer, and four sugars waiting with two creams. I permit my slaves coffee, water, and juice throughout the day."

"Laundry is completed on Saturdays, including taking any dry cleaning to the shop and returning to fetch it Tuesdays. I will also have you complete the inventory Sunday to see what supplies I need to order from the grocers and general shop," he continued. "So that the order can be picked up when you get the dry cleaning. Mondays and Wednesdays you will deep clean the rooms of the house and tend my gardens. Thursdays will be appointments. Fridays, if you've done well, you may have some relaxation time after you chores are completed. If you haven't, I'll be issuing your reminders. There are two rooms you are not permitted in without permission, slave, my bedroom, and the basement bedroom. Your room already contains your personals; you will spend most nights there and are expected to keep it cleaned and maintained."

My brain was struggling to keep up with the details. No matter how much I tried to mentally repeat, there was too much to keep hold of. Some of it was standard; some of it felt so specific! I bit my lip trying to keep myself focused on his words with a little spike of pain to combat the exhaustion.

He must have noticed my struggle because a moment later he had a crop in his hands. I shivered as he placed its leather tongue against my breastbone, knowing how he could use it to lick me to squealing. "Repeat back what you can, little slave," he ordered.

I took a breath, trying to orient myself to how his topics had flowed. "Master wishes his slave to be in her waiting position, here, when he returns every day. He requires his pet to be on her knees, crawling in his sight. Though she can stand when alone," I repeated.

My voice trailed off; I struggled for a moment to remember what had come next. The swishing motion of the crop coming back found my tongue coming to life. "Master... wants his pet to cook for him daily, lunch and dinner, with a balance between items. She is to have coffee ready for him each morning, with... four scoops to five cups and three sugar waiting on his saucer."

The crop flicked twice, stinging my breasts. "Three to five, girl, not four," he corrected sharply. "Four is the sugars."

"With three scoops to five cups and four sugars," I repeated back, blinking and trying to focus. The sting helped a little to clear the haze of desire. "Your slave is to keep track of what she eats and stay hydrated. She... has chores to complete by six in the evening each day. She's to clean, Master, take care of laundry, keeping track of items, and pick up your clothes and groceries."

That leather tongue tapped but didn't bite me... yet. "And when, little slut, do you complete those things for me?"

I stared into those eyes, trying to remember. I wanted to, but the days seemed jumbled between the tasks; my mind was washed in the fog of exhaustion. "Laundry is on Saturday sir, and... she does inventory on Sunday?"

The bite this time was harder as his crop slapped my inner thigh. I could read the displeasure brewing in his gaze as his eyebrows pulled in. "Are you asking or telling me, girl?"

Desperately, I tried to figure out if I was right, if I'd somehow mixed the two. But before him, lying would only earn me more of those stripes. "Your slut can't remember, Master."

Oh the seven he put to my thighs were blisteringly fast. My knees tensed, tempted to close against the fire he wrote and I couldn't stop the cry as the last fell. I could feel my pussy pulsing against the dildo buried in me; the tension made me all the more aware of the plug in my ass. The shivers that ran through me were oddly similar to those that I'd felt in the car as he'd made me come over and over.

"Don't you dare come little girl," he growled. "Now let's try this again..."

He repeated the schedule of chores to me, then made me say it back immediately as he punctuated each item with a slap to my left breast. I repeated it a second time to him as it licked the other to match; a third time to make sure I had it down perfectly and mentally swore that I'd not forget it again as his crop tapped the covered, leaking slit between my thighs.

When I was finally able to repeat it all back to him, he offered a slight smile. "Good girl... Now follow."

I crawled beside him, following my leash to the kitchen. "On your feet. Today I'll guide you, tomorrow, you do it on your own," he said.

It started with an order to fetch the binder on the counter, the blue one not the black, and then he showed me where his recipe cards were. Each was organized in a section, and had his handwritten notes about what nutrition requirements they satisfied. I chose three of them, obtained his approval, then set about making lunch.

Even in the kitchen, he remained demanding. When I mistakenly minced instead of dicing, he made me start over with the onions. When I forgot to set the fruit salad into the fridge to chill, his crop reminded me with a pair of licks to my sit spot.

Eventually, I managed to get the perfect golden touch to the bread and was rewarded with five seconds of vibrations that nearly rolled my eyes back in my head.

Things must have been plated to his satisfaction because he permitted me to eat with him at the table. Exhausted as I was, I was grateful for that small mercy as the food and juice eased the light tremble in my hands. But his easement didn't last long as after eating came cleaning up.

He had places for everything, and expected not a drop of water left on the counter after dishes. He then had me sweep and spot mop before ensuring that I wrote what I'd eaten, and how much of it in the journal beside his binders.

Precision seemed to be his intent; I ached to meet his approval.

After lunch Master led me to his office, and there I was put into my wait position as he worked. Even when my knees trembled, he did not allow me to break from where he set me and that crop ensured I felt any slip from it. He offered no guidance; if I incorrectly interpreted what had gone amiss, I felt his crop's lick until I got it right.

At some point, he tugged me between his knees and let me rest my head on his thigh. "At ease" he'd said, and I stored it as a new command automatically.

Exhaustion had me dozing, but every little shift of my body had me alert and awake. I wanted to beg for a nap, and yet I wasn't sure I would ever sleep with the competing stings and pleasures. I felt almost like I was constantly in the phase of just waking up where everything remained twilighted and hazy.

He commanded me into the kitchen and told me to make dinner on my own.

It seemed like it should have been easy. After all everything was right there.... But as the smoke alarm blared and I stared into the oven, it was clear I had a lot to learn.