Sally poked her head into my office door and said, “The car’s here.”
“Thank you, Sally,” I replied. While waiting for my new arrival, I poured myself a cup of coffee and reflected on how different this one would be from the others.
In the last five years, my operation had become far more manageable and less stressful. I had put a severe limit to how many guns we ran to Los Angeles and Las Vegas, and had stopped dealing in narcotics altogether. The drug business was getting way too violent and risky, with constant worrying about the greedy cartels on one end and the draconian DEA on the other.
I now had an understanding with the federal and state authorities: as long as I stayed out of the drug business, the right people (provided they got their cut every month) would be happy to look the other way.
Now, we had only two businesses: gambling and girls. The card games and roulette tables catered mainly to the rich pricks who could afford to piss away thousands in one night, while the escort service employed mostly young women from China, Central America, Eastern Europe and the U. S. of A. If there was one thing that I knew would never change as long as the sun rose, it was this: men like to gamble and they like to fuck. The cash flowed in like water.
And now, something completely new. An old associate back east said this woman had come to him, practically groveling at his feet, begging for help. She had apparently racked up crushing gambling and shopping debts along with her student loans and a mortgage. At one point, she’d taken about $10,000 from her employer and had the law knocking on the front door of her house, soon to be foreclosed. She was out of options.
My old friend would have taken her on personally, but already had more pussy than he really needed. So he called me and emailed a recent picture of her. I was sold.
Sally knocked and leaned in through the door. I nodded to her, signaling that I was ready to receive my visitor. The door opened all the way, and the woman walked in hesitantly. The picture hadn’t done her justice; she was breathtaking. Long blonde hair flowed down both shoulders. Wide, round, green eyes and full lips. She looked a bit like one of Elvis’ old girlfriends in the early 70’s, around the time he really started to go to shit.
She wore the outfit she’d been given to wear after the plane landed. A skin-tight blue satin mini-dress hugged her trim body like a second skin. She balanced herself on a pair of black basic pumps with five-inch stiletto heels. Gold hoops dangled from her ears. Sally shut the door behind her, and the woman stood before me, nervously looking at the floor. I just sat at my desk for almost a full minute, looking her up and down, drinking her in.
“Did Sally get all your paperwork?” I finally asked. By this I meant her birth certificate, driver’s license, social security card, debit and credit cards, etc. Basically, all the proof of her existence. She nodded meekly, keeping her head down.
“Look at me,” I ordered. She raised her eyes to meet mine.
“Any time I ask you a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, you will respond with ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘No, sir’. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a sweet, mild voice.
“I’m going to give you one more chance to change your mind about this whole thing. If you still say yes, it will be the last decision you’ll make for yourself for the next 365 days. If you say no, we’ll fly you back to Pennsylvania and you can deal with the consequences of all this yourself. I spent a lot of money to pay off all your debts, including your mortgage, and called in a couple of very big favors to get your charges dropped. I make one phone call and it’ll be like I did nothing, and you’re fucked all over again. So… one more chance. The deal is you consent to be my slave for a year, starting today, and at the end you go home and the slate is wiped clean. Do you still consent?”
After a beat, she said, “Yes, sir.”
I got up from the chair, walked over and leaned on the desk. “Say it,” I told her.
“I… I consent to be your slave.”
The way she said it, obediently but with hesitation, turned me on. I was already getting a hard-on. “Take the dress off,” I told her. She untied the strap behind her neck and pulled the dress down to the floor. Her breasts were not large, just medium size, but firm. I noted with some amusement that her nipples were hard.
“Now, the panties,” I said. She hesitated, breathing more heavily, then slipped the thong panties down to around her ankles and kicked them aside with one spiked heel. Admiring her naked body, I pulled a collar out from my desk and approached her. It was black leather, with a silver ring in the front.
“Hold your hair up.” She did so, still looking into my eyes.
“I know this seems like a cliché,” I said as I secured the collar around her neck, “But I like what I like. You will take this collar off while showering. Otherwise, it will stay on your neck for the duration of your stay here. It will serve to remind you of what you are now. Do you realize what you are now?”
She licked her lips, darting her eyes back and forth, now trying to avoid my gaze. “I’m your s-slave?” she replied, as if hoping not to give an unsatisfactory answer.
“That’s right,” I said. “You’re not an employee, like Sally, or the men on my crew, or the whores in the hotel next door. You won’t be paid. You’ll have no authority over anything or anyone here. I want you to understand that clearly. Everyone here is your superior. You are no longer your own. You are my property. You’re nothing. You’re just a toy now, a toy I have the right to use in any way that may please me. You’ll be given certain household chores, but your primary function is the satisfaction of my physical urges. My men also have authority over you, as does Sally. You’ll do whatever you’re told by anyone here at all times – when, where and how you’re told to do it.”
“Yes, sir,” she stammered. I could almost see a caption below her face, saying, “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
“If you’re in the kitchen, for example, doing the breakfast dishes, and two of my men come through, wanting a quick blowjob before heading out for the day, you will postpone the dishes. You will kneel before both men and suck them dry. They can cum on your face, or in your mouth, whatever they want. If they tell you to swallow it, you swallow. If any of their semen spills, you will get down on your hands and knees and lick it off the floor with your tongue. If they want you to thank them for the honor of tasting their jizz, you will. Are we clear?”
A single tear ran down her cheek. “Y... Yes, sir.” Her voice was shaking. My cock was stiff as a board, bulging inside my pants.
I led her to the white leather couch aligning the opposite wall. “Kneel on the couch, facing the wall.”
She obeyed, gripping the back cushion. I slowly removed my belt, making sure she heard it slipping through my belt loops. She continued to look at the wall, knowing what was coming, bracing for it. She was now openly shaking like a leaf. I gave her ass a good, hard whap. She yelped in pain, her lips trembling. I hit her again, and again. She began to instinctively sway around, trying to avoid the belt.
The grinding of her ass, the way the stiletto heels accentuated her legs, drove me to an even higher plane of desire. I whipped her five more times, ten more, twenty, before I lost count. Her butt cheeks were now a mass of bright red marks where the belt had hit her. She was bawling like a baby, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she stayed in position, as I had ordered.
Finally, I could stand it no more. I unzipped my fly and pulled my hot, hard cock out, putting myself right behind her. I slipped my finger into her twat, moving it around, confirming that she was sufficiently wet. I slowly penetrated her, never tiring of that exquisite moment when first entering a woman. She moaned softly. Whether it was from pain or pleasure, or both, I didn’t know. As I started to thrust into her more quickly and deeply, she gritted her teeth, her tears still flowing freely. I was hoping to draw this out a bit, but found I couldn’t hold back for long. I grunted in pure ecstasy as I came, spurting my seed deep inside her.
I finally withdrew and gave her a box of tissues to clean up with. She moved slowly, trying to recover from her initial ordeal. As I zipped up and re-looped my belt, I instructed her.
“That wasn’t punishment,” I told her. “That was whimsy. I’ll whip you with my belt occasionally because I enjoy it, and because I can. Get used to it. I’ll use the paddle for punishment. If you ever fail to obey an order or you fail to completely satisfy me or one of my guys, you get the paddle. It’s heavier than the belt, and I’ll hit you a lot harder that I just did. Keep that very clearly in mind.”
When she was finished wiping herself, she stood before me, naked, balancing on her high heels, her mascara making dark tracks down her cheeks. I’d already broken her.
“Go in the kitchen now,” I ordered. “Sally will give you a list of tasks that have to be done before dinner. Once dinner’s finished, you’ll be passed around among my guys – they all want to test-drive you since you just got here. Sally will show you to your quarters in the basement. After dinner, the men will visit you in there, one by one. You’re in for a long night... there’s no getting around that.”
Sally opened the door, holding a list, and looked at her indifferently. “Notice that no one will call you by your name here,” I said, “because here, you have no name. Here you’ll only be known as ‘Fucktoy’. You will answer only to that because that’s what you are now, nothing more. Understand, Fucktoy?”
“Get down on your knees.”
She obeyed, keeling down and looking up at me. “The dress and panties stay here. I’ve decided you will be naked at all times here, unless specifically told otherwise. You will wear the spike heels at all times except when sleeping, in the shower, or in the gym. You will go to the gym every day. Sally has a full workout schedule made up for you, and she will weigh you every week. If you gain or lose more than five pounds over the next year, it will be grounds for punishment. Understand, Fucktoy?”
I gazed down at her, enjoying her look of submission. “You’ll be a good little slut for me, is that right?”
I slapped her lightly on the face. She wobbled, clearly surprised, but stayed kneeling. “Say it, Fucktoy.”
“I… I’ll be a good little slut for you.”
“Tell me you love me.”
She blinked and sniffled, not quite done crying. “I love you.”
“Yes, you do, Fucktoy. Get out of my sight. I have business to conduct.”
She rose unsteadily and followed Sally out of the office. I sat behind my desk, enjoying the warm feeling in my loins, looking forward to the coming year. This might turn out to be worth the money and hassle. I thought I might even extend her service by another year, maybe two, as long as she continued to look good and her holes remained tight.
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