This is my attempt to describe the origin of Horny Juice which has been an element in a number of Carl Bradford's stories in the legal slavery universe. In "Sabbatical in Slavery" he described a 25% increase in breast size after prolonged use so I went with that. I often do research online that forms some of the basis for concepts that I use in my stories and that can be true for breasts increasing in size during arousal, the relationship between pain and pleasure (BDSM) and nipple orgasms. I mean, if it is on the internet it must be true. Just ask Don Lemon. And yes, there is a nipple orgasm article in Cosmo, just Google it. I want to thank Carl, ESS, Zee, and Avvy for feedback and editing on this tail as I put it together. All individuals described in this story are 18 years old.
Aaron Fletcher's Viewpoint
"Life is good!" I thought as I sat naked in a recliner on the outdoor terrace sipping on a margarita in the Seven South penthouse suite on the top floor at the Ritz Carlton hotel overlooking my stretch of Seven Mile Beach on Grand Cayman. Sumiko, my Japanese American concubine, and personal assistant was gently giving my left nut a nice tongue bath. I had managed to leave the wife and daughters behind while on a father-son getaway with my business partners and their sons. While Alan and I brought our own personal concubines, Jose and the boys got to play with the high-quality house pleasure sluts that staffed our penthouse suite. The Ritz had a superb on-demand catalog, and they were determined to make extensive use of it.
My son Justin, a senior at MIT, had a margarita in one hand and his fingers entwined in the hair of the busty blonde slave girl named Mandy, or was it Candy, that was one of the many amenities that came with the suite. Justin started face fucking the poor girl, who to him was nothing more than a human fleshlight. These youngsters these days, always in a hurry to get where they are going. Never taking the time to savor the finer aspects of life, like a wet warm tongue massaging your nuts before you get down to business.
"Hey honey, move the tongue south a little, would yah," I drawled as my well-trained slave's warm, wet tongue enthusiastically started massaging the taint right between my nuts and my back door. Damn, that felt good, really good. Everyone likes variety, but at my point in life there's something to be said for a slave girl who knows your preferences down to the most miniscule detail.
"Perfect," I groaned happily when her eager tongue settled in on my sphincter.
I sighed, contently looking over the ocean and the spectacular view of the setting sun. Poor Walter "Wally" Cox, my former business partner, never understood moderation, having passed away after taking Prolong while lying on his back with four Horny Juice induced pleasure sluts entertaining him. One eating his ass while he worked his big toe up her vagigi as she humped his foot all while happily tongue drilling his sphincter, slut another riding his cock giving him a nice Singapore Kiss, the third massaging his chest and suckling his nipples while he finger-fucked her drenched snatch, while the fourth rode his face as he feasted on her juicy pussy. His heart gave out as he shot his final load. "What a way to go," I thought as I silently saluted my old friend knowing he died with a smile on his face going out the way he had always wanted--coming and going simultaneously.
"Hey, dad, can you tell us the real story behind the development of Horny Juice?" asked Justin, putting down his drink long enough to pick up a laptop with the company home page open on the screen.
Cody Cox, Walter's son, also a senior at MIT and Justin's roommate and best friend, smirked while he ground his cock into the face of his red-haired slave girl, Brandi, or was it Bambi, hell I don't know. He asked, "Mr. Fletcher, knowing my dad and the rest of you like I do, I don't buy that BS altruistic account on your company website. Justin, read it verbatim and see if you can do it without busting up."
I seriously doubted Justin could read at all as he appeared close to busting a nut in Bambi, or was it Bunny's mouth, but I was pleasantly surprised when he pulled it off. My other partners, Jose Gomez and Alan Chin and their boys, were all on the terrace with us, enjoying the view and ocean breeze with their own attractive slave girls hard at work.
In a sarcastic tone, Justin read, "Horny Juice was developed to assist house slaves, and pleasure sluts alike make the often-difficult transition from their former lives as free women who were used to choosing their sexual activities and partners to becoming the sexual servants of their benevolent owners who now made those decisions for them. Many of these unfortunate women were unfairly disciplined when they, due to no fault of their own, could not become sexually aroused on command at the whim of their masters. Aaron Fletcher, Jose Gomez, Alan Chin, and Walter Cox observed this suffering while in a work-study program sophomore year in the Texas A & M slave kennels and decided to take action to help these poor unlucky women. Motivated to end the suffering of these slaves, they invented Horny Juice as the solution, starting their business out of their small student home at 2901 Forestwood Drive, Bryan, Texas, after turning the garage into a small production laboratory. Horny Juice is now used nationwide to assist these unfortunate slave girls to become happily aroused, ready and willing pleasure sluts for their owners, making their time as slaves more humane and rewarding as they come to enjoy the varied sexual activities of a pleasure slut. Where slaves used to worry about performing certain sexual activities with their owners, thanks to Horny Juice, many pleasure sluts so enjoy their new lives that they regularly initiate sexual encounters with their owners. Thanks to Horny Juice, many slave girls, having found their true calling for the collar, choose to extend their indentures, finding life as a pleasure slut easier and more fulfilling than their prior lives as they struggled to make ends meet in dead-end jobs."
The boys are right, some publicist came up with that cow patucky, but it seemed like the perfect time to give them the real story, so I looked at Jose and Alan for guidance, and they nodded in agreement.
"Aaron, you're the best storyteller amongst us. It's time they got the story behind the story," grinned Jose.
"Ok, it all started Freshman year in the dorms where Jose, Wally, Alan, and I formed our own social club, the Four Nerdmigos. Face it, we were four nerds to which even the nerdettes wouldn't give the time of day no matter how hard we tried, and trust me, we tried," I started, until interrupted by Alan.
"Except for Theresa, she had Wally wrapped around her pinkie like a little pet, getting him to write every paper, complete every homework assignment and even wash and fold her laundry," laughed Jose.
"Until her special pair of pink panties with a bow disappeared," chortled Alan.
"Aw, come on, my mom wasn't that bad," interjected Cody, getting a little defensive.
"Cody, your mother was the master manipulator, using her feminine wiles to get her way in any form she could. She was a smart beauty, but damn that girl was lazy, and that's what got her into trouble years later, and how your dad ended up buying her," added Jose.
Sensing Cody's irritation with the way things were going I jumped in, "Let's get back on track guys. As our freshman year ended, the four desperados here, ever dateless, and horny, came up with a brilliant plan. We decided to rent a cheap house some distance away that summer, work in the slave kennels on campus and pool our money to buy a slave girl to cook, clean and be our fuck toy in the Fall. At the end of the summer, we headed down to the local Dollar Slave Mart to get our girl. Dollar had pens with slaves grouped by slave grade and age with the same price for all the slaves in each pen. There were a few Choice sluts and a large selection of Select and Cutter slaves. The higher the grade and the younger the slave the higher the price. You grab the one you like and go to the cash register and pay, hence the name Grab 'N Go. With our limited resources all we could afford was something cheap in the Select 35 to 40 Grab 'N Go slave pen."
Interrupting my story Alan chortled, "Walter insisted we get the one with the biggest tits in the pen and that was Angie. Once Jose pointed out her Venus Academy brand prominently displayed on her ass there was no going back. So, we marched right up and bought her."
"That's how you guys met Aunt Angie?" asked Enrique, Jose's eldest son who was in his first year of law school at Rice.
"Yep, that's how we met Angie. We should have followed that old adage, never judge a book by its cover. Walter was convinced the store had screwed up and mislabeled her, since she looked Choice then, and probably a Prime when first sold. Had we read her bio or even taken a closer look at her, we would have known why she was in that Grab 'N Go pen. But we didn't and took her home happy as all get out. Now Angie had an attitude taking charge of our little household cooking and cleaning and damned if she couldn't suck a watermelon through a hose. She was even a champ taking it in the ass. But after being a pleasure slut most of her adult life she had difficulty getting aroused anymore," I explained.
"In other words, her pussy, while flexible, was drier than the Sahara Desert," quipped Alan.
"That condition is described in the DSM V, I don't remember the name of the disorder off the top of my head, but it involves pleasure sluts that have had so much sex that it becomes difficult for them to become sexually aroused anymore. Today, heavy doses of Horny Juice are used in these cases, quickly solving the problem," added Brian Chin, a pre-med student at Yale.
"Well, that describes poor Angie back then. Ah, fuck that feels good," I groaned happily as Sumiko distracted me, once again inhaling my cock to the base in her mouth as her tongue massaged the shaft. If she kept that up, I wasn't going to last much longer.
"Boys, I need a break from Sumiko's mouth," I chuckled, as my pretty slave spit out my shaft with a disappointed groan and a cute pout on her face.
Most women are happy avoiding a mouthful of splooge, but not my Sumiko. We have an unspoken game of cat and mouse that we play with each other, where Sumiko tries to get me to blow my load in her mouth while I prefer to deposit it elsewhere in or at least on her body. My little fellatrix once confessed that she's wired differently, loving it when a man cums in her mouth; everything from the urgent hip thrusts, the groans of pleasure, the way his hand grasps her head to the taste and consistency of the semen. It doesn't hurt that the Venus Academy, the best pleasure slut training facility in Texas, if not the nation, conditioned her to climax when a man ejaculates in her mouth either. Sumiko knows she's being bad, but I rarely ever lose; even when I do unload down her throat, losing is winning. And then I get to discipline her, which is even more fun. I really picked a winner when I purchased this slave girl.
I repositioned Sumiko between my legs, lying with her back on my chest and head on my left shoulder so that I could reach my arms around her, taking her pert breasts in my hands. Instinctively I started lightly kneading her titties, softly tracing my fingertips on the areola around her nipples, teasing them by not touching them and then finally rolling her nipples between my thumbs and fingers eliciting moans of pleasure as my adorable slave began to squirm her butt in my lap.
"Bad girl," I teased, pinching her left nipple painfully hard to make her stop.
