Changing Status Pt. 03

Although I developed friendships with Janey and the others, I was very lonely, vainly counting and re-counting the months until my indenture was completed. Of course, even if Harry obeyed the law and set me free, I would have to restart my life as a "woman with a past." To put it mildly.

*****

One day, Janey told me to dress demurely, as I usually did when infiltrating an office building or hotel to visit a customer. Then José drove us to a major shopping center where we engaged in a mild orgy of clothes shopping, including three revealing bikinis. (By this time, I should explain, the periodic horny juice injections, in combination with Suzy's naturally-produced hormones, had given me a real hourglass figure, something like 36D-26-34, which looked even more unusual with my vaguely-Asiatic facial features.) I wasn't trying to show off, but the sight of a well-built, black-haired young woman in a collar trying on swimsuits certainly got some unwanted attention in stores.

In the car, when I asked Janey WTF, she gestured at the back of José's head, indicating the explanations would have to wait. After we dragged all those new clothes into my little bedroom, she asked me a startling question:

"You know who Robert Harriman is, right?" Did I! He was on the cover of one fan magazine or another every month, a well-muscled, handsome guy who had become the latest box office draw for action heroes in Hollywood.

"No, calm down girl," she giggled, seeing my well-practiced enthusiasm for male actors. "You don't get to DO him, but you may get to MEET him if you behave."

So, she explained that Mr. Harriman had just married another Hollywood heavy hitter, Julia Shiffer, and they were going on a Caribbean cruise as a belated honeymoon. I was actually more interested in the chance to meet HER, because fangirl Suzy had learned to be in awe of female stars. "Problem is," Janey explained, "Harriman's son Ben, who just turned 18, has to come along on the trip--apparently he acts up every time he's left alone. Soooo, Mr. Harriman not only booked Ben a separate cabin on the cruise, but also booked YOU to entertain the kid. He picked you out of our on-line catalog."

I groaned. "So, I have to put out for some 18-year-old kid, letting him use all my holes to work out his horniness in one cabin so that dear old Dad can have some alone time with his bride?"

"Yup."

"Kill me now." I groaned again, pounding my head on a table. "I mean, I don't need to fuck a movie star, but having to satisfy a hormonal teenager while we're trapped on a cruise ship with that movie star will NOT be fun."

Janey smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure that the first 24 hours or so will be trying, but after that, he should be worn down to the point where he can only fuck you, what--five times a day? All you have to do is put out for Ben and don't distract his father from Miz Shiffer."

"Big consolation you are--as if I'm any competition for a movie star." I grumbled, then sighed. "Oh, well, comes with the territory. Only, I need some advice from you. In case you haven't figured it out, I was sort of a tomboy before Mr. Herring bought me. I don't know anything about eating at the Captain's table, dancing in a ballroom, or stuff like that. I assume all these new clothes mean I won't walk around naked, but how do I act on a cruise ship?"

So she gave me a crash course on behaving in society, not to mention refreshing my limited experience in walking in heels, sitting in skirts, and so on. We spent a lot of time watching news reports of famous actors in public, none of which seemed normal to me.

There was, of course, one additional hurdle to go through: we were in Corpus Christi and the cruise ship was departing from Galveston, which meant that I had to get up in the middle of the night to travel five hours to arrive in time for boarding.

And, by travel I don't mean ride in a limousine. Uh-uh. The only time slaves travel in limousines is when they're on their knees, orally servicing the free occupants. Slaves are shipped by poodle express, which means kneeling (with my hands cuffed behind me and my mouth gagged with canvas) inside the kind of wire mesh cage used for shipping large dogs. At least, I wouldn't be naked in that cage because my appearance might shock some of the passengers when I reached the ship. Instead, I got to wear one of the new, very revealing bikinis I had acquired, which took care of my modesty but did nothing to reduce the helplessness and discomfort of being in that cage. The fact that I couldn't urinate for five hours or longer meant that I had to limit my fluid intake the day before and then wear a cup apparatus that would (I hoped) prevent me from pissing myself while immobilized in the cage.

It was a long, long drive in the back of a hot panel van, not just because of my discomfort but also from the sense of being physically helpless. My mind was filled with horrific images of that SOB Hernandez somehow discovering who I was and torturing my caged, helpless body. When I finally arrived at the docks, I had to wait while the crew sorted out the collection of sluts waiting to go on board. Some of them got roped together naked into coffles and marched off somewhere with hips, hair, and boobs swaying--I guess the ship ran its own brothel services. Lord, I thought, imagine being rented out 24 hours a day to different "guests" on a ship!

After the pool of slave whores was dealt with, there were still a number of girls like me, sent to the ship by various wealthy guests. Eventually, a crew member identified which cabin I was supposed to be in, then wheel my cage to that location. Thank heavens, he let me out to use the toilet and even cut my canvas gag off. I thanked him profusely for his kindness, but I soon realized that what he really wanted--like any other male confronted by a young, scantily-clad, female slave--was a blowjob! Instead of a john tipping me for services rendered, I was expected to give the crew member a tip for his effort in taking me to the cabin. Who ever heard of human luggage that rewards the bellboy? So, I sucked him off to show my thanks, after which he allowed me to rinse my mouth out, then locked me (with my hands still bound behind me) into the larger slave cage provided in each first-class cabin. Now I was just part of the room furnishings, a nearly-naked woman waiting helplessly for sexual use. At least this cage had a cushion to kneel on. The rich, I had heard, really are different from the rest of us--and certainly different from sex slaves! I had to wait another two hours before my temporary owner, Ben Harriman, finally found me.

Having been a horny teenaged boy (redundancy; what teenager, especially a male one, isn't horny in one way or another?) myself, I had given much thought to the problem of 18-year-old Ben. I had decided to gush admiration for him, NOT because he might resemble his father but rather because he would be (supposedly) a studly guy. In reality, of course, he wasn't bad looking, other than a case of acne, but I had to put on my dumb blonde act and pretend that I was overjoyed to be his bedwarmer. When he unlocked the cage, I rose to my full height, stretching as I did so in a way that pushed my boobs into his face, all while thanking him in a flood of words. Then I immediately squatted down and reached for his zipper. Almost before he knew what I was doing, I had his rapidly-stiffening prick in my mouth, where I did my best to get him hot without bringing him off.

Remembering my own ever-ready dick at that age, I was in no hurry to have him actually climax because he would immediately grow another hard-on. Instead, I tried to give him as much pleasure as possible, slowly pumping him in and out of my mouth, trying to make myself the best sex partner of his abbreviated life. Only after he had moaned several times and clutched my head tightly did I put my tongue into overdrive and let him blast his salty junk down my throat.

As I had expected, however, that first experience only encouraged him to use me again. Not surprisingly, I found myself bent double with wrists cuffed to the headboard and legs tied, widely apart, over my head. With me splayed in that exposed position, he had his choice of both of my lower openings--so of course he began by pounding my rapidly-lubricating cunt while I moaned and pretended to be overwhelmed by the sensation of being his sex object. He also took his time manipulating my nipples and my lower nub. I have to admit that it DID feel pretty good, although as usual I had to keep reminding myself that I was just a horny girl, not some transgender mental disaster.

The way he was pistoning in and out, I had expected Ben to come inside my birth canal, but he had enough control to reserve his climax, pulling out about 20 seconds before I thought he would blow. THEN, bless his horny little heart, he produced a tube of water-based lube to paint both my winking butthole and his still erect cock. Not only that, but he took his time gradually stretching me. Only after a minute of that careful toying did he really let loose on me, hammering away at my exposed asshole as I moaned at the sensation of being completely controlled and possessed by a man. At least I had made myself into that much of a submissive woman over the preceding three years.

Then he collapsed on my restrained body and we spent the next several minutes frantically trying to catch our breath. If I hadn't been tied in that contorted position, I probably would have dissolved into a puddle of jelly. As soon as I could, I began nuzzling and mewing, trying to thank him for one of my better sexual experiences as a slave. I was much more sincere in my praise than I had anticipated. This 18 year-old "kid" had gone way up in my estimation--he exhibited more class and consideration than most of the Johns who had used and abused me over the preceding three years. For the first time, this cruise began to look like an enjoyable adventure rather than a trial I had to endure.

Eventually, Ben released me, and we had to hurry through a shower even though we kept kissing and fondling each other. I was relieved to see that my suitcase had made it to his cabin along with my cage. I hastily unearthed a dress and hung it in the bathroom, where the shower's humidity might relax the folds, while I combed my hair and put on minimal makeup. When we were both dressed for dinner, I offered him a leash to tow me, but instead he offered me his arm. I hope the smile I gave him in return reimbursed him; it was certainly sincere.

Meeting two movie stars was another prickly situation. I tried to be respectful and friendly but NOT to give either Ben or his new step-mom any reason to believe that I was appealing to "Mr. Harriman," as I always called him. My collar proclaimed my lack of rights, reinforcing my subordinate status.

Unsurprisingly, Ben cut short the evening show we went to, taking me back to his cabin to be rammed fore and aft. He discovered the convenience of using those wrist and ankle bands to render me helpless any time he wanted to play. Finished, we cuddled and slept together, only to wake in the middle of the night because he wanted another blowjob. When he finally let me out of bed the next morning, he asked me to dress in a bikini and light wrap, then picked up the leash. Showing remarkable restraint for a half-grown manchild, the 18 year old waited until after breakfast with his parents before he hooked the leash to my collar and led me on a long, leisurely exploration of the ship.

Eventually, of course, he met two other teenaged males who had apparently grown up in the North, where slaves were rare. By careful questioning I determined that they were both over age 18, which relieved my worries about inadvertently corrupting a minor. Ben had no such qualms, bragging openly about what a "fantastic piece of ass" I was, willing to do anything to please him. I knew where THIS was going. Before I could blink, we were back in Ben's cabin, with everyone stripping down. At least Ben again took the trouble to use lube before lying on his back and having me sit on him, impaling my butt on his constantly-erect shaft. (If you're wondering, he had taken considerable pleasure in "forcing" me to have an enema before we set out in the morning, so this was more a matter of caution.) After that, of course, his two new friends mounted my cunt and my face. Josh, a pimply-faced nerd, audibly groaned when he penetrated between my labia, while Billy straddled my head and stuffed his eager dick into my mouth. Fortunately, he was the lightest of the three and he visibly tried not to press his weight down. It was still difficult for me to breathe in the center of this "airtight," but I tried my best to enjoy the experience if only to help my body accommodate all that youthful dick. I forced my mind to go to my "female" place, telling my woman's body had great it felt to have all three openings stuffed with dick!

I had planned for the challenge of accommodating ONE horny teenaged guy (redundancy!), but THREE of them were a real trip. At least, fucking me multiple times over the preceding 20 hours had slowed Ben down, and he was confident that he would get another chance to shaft me. Moreover, he displayed a surprising sense of responsibility, insisting that they all had to use condoms when taking my ass, then washing off before they sampled my mouth. Which Josh and Billy happily took turns doing while Ben watched and cheered them on. You wouldn't believe how much spunk dripped out of my lower holes when they finally let me take a shower. I don't think I have an ego about my appearance, but I felt like Kelly LeBrock in the movie Weird Science as I showered while three (temporarily sated) teenaged guys stared hungrily at me. Flattering, but creepy.

*****

For the next four days, my life revolved around Ben, Josh, and Billy fondling and plowing me at every opportunity. I was finally so sleep-deprived that I had to beg Ben to allow me a long afternoon sleeping his cabin while the three guys went on a shore tour.

When we weren't fucking, they took turns walking me around the decks of the ship with one hand down the back of my bikini or shorts or (frequently) wrapped around my neck and reaching down into my cleavage. I noticed a lot of young, free women who were clearly enjoying themselves on the trip. I deeply envied them the ability to just tell guys to fuck off and leave them alone, whereas I had to endure man-handling and crass comments throughout. As an introverted guy, I had always tried to be invisible, but now I was the slave slut, dressed and treated like sex on a stick at everyone's mercy.

At one point, Ms. Shiffer took pity on me and booked us together into the ship's spa for a special treatment. For several hours I relaxed and enjoyed being pampered, although I couldn't help overhearing the comments by other, free patrons about what a slut I was, as if I had any choice in the matter.

As the ship turned north, heading back to Galveston, I found myself sitting next to Ben's father, Mr. Harriman. The three younger guys were distracted by something or other when he took the opportunity to suggest that he might buy me and move me to Hollywood. He had noticed how happy Ben was and thought it would be a good idea for both of us if he extended the relationship.

"And you've already raised this idea with my owner, right?" I asked, to which he nodded.

"Crap." I mumbled under my breath. "Mr. Harriman, I'm very flattered, but I don't think that's a good idea. For me, sure, but not for anybody else."

He seemed surprised and asked me why not. I could see his new wife eavesdropping. "Jeez, sir. All I know is what I read in the tabloids and fan magazines. What happens when some sleezeball finds out that you bought a slave slut with big tits out of a Texas whorehouse? I'll bet there's already several photos of us together on this ship, and it would be simple for them to download some racy photographs of me from my owner's website. WE know nothin's going on between us, but it would be easy to embarrass Mizz Shiffer with an innuendo."

I saw her smile from the other side of her new husband. "I told you this girl was smart, Bob. You should listen to her."

"With all respect, ma'am," I butted in. "You're a big girl who can handle herself, but what about Ben? How many of his friends would believe that he was planking me but you and I had barely talked? I don't know how you did it, Mr. Harriman, but somebody turned out a pretty good guy there. He's considerate, responsible, and amazingly unspoiled; in fact, he's probably one of the best lovers I've ever had, and lord knows I've had enough of them. But if some tabloid says that his father is banging the little slave girl while that father is supposed to be on his honeymoon, nobody will believe that Ben was the one screwing my brains out, not you. I'd hate to see what that would do to his self-respect."

I took a brief breath. "Look, sir. I'd love to escape from that whorehouse and go back with you folks to live in California, where I only have to make love with Ben and maybe his friends. But, Ben needs a normal relationship with a free teenaged young woman, not a Texas whore ten years older than him. Besides, in two more years my indenture will be up. By that time, I estimate I will have had sex with about 1,500 men in five years, and that's enough to last me a lifetime. Unless somebody kidnaps me, I intend to resume my freedom and stop having sex for a long, long time. I don't think Ben will understand that no matter how I explain it to him. Now I'll shut up and wait for my owner to punish me for costing him money by messing up your deal."

There was a long silence, and I realized that Ben had overheard at least the last part of my diatribe. I was relieved that he was smiling rather than angry.

Finally, Harriman spoke. "No, you don't deserve to be punished for thinking about what's best for us instead of yourself. I'll tell your owner that you were superb--which is the truth--but that we realized it would be a public relations disaster to purchase you. In fact, I'll pay him a premium for your services."

Of course, after that Ben and his friends fucked me even more often than before, to the point where my lower openings were red and swollen by the time I was shipped, poodle express, back to Corpus Christi. I'm sure the house gynecologist reported the redness to Harry, which convinced him that I had "given good service" even though he hadn't managed to sell my butt permanently. A month later, an extra $2000 appeared in my savings account.

*****

So I went back to whoring for Harry. It wasn't always easy, but it was usually interesting and occasionally enjoyable. I had to suffer a lot of humiliation and constantly kow-tow to Harry and the Johns, but I managed to survive for another year as a combination call girl and general slut. I told myself that Suzy the bimbo was just an act that bore only a slight resemblance to the real me, Wally the introvert nerd.

It was a weird existence, getting regularly banged in all my openings by guys I despised while my only friends were Janey and the other girls. We heard about crime, drugs, and violence on the news but worried only about whether the boss was mad at us. If a handsome, kind guy fucked us stupid we would be happy for a day or two, but otherwise nothing much changed. One day in a fan magazine I saw a photo of Ben, his father, and the stepmom; I guess they were doing OK.

I had a little fun, saved a few hundred more dollars in tips, and almost forgot that I was really male. After a while, I began to enjoy getting my hair done, finding a new outfit to wear when I went out "on call," and feeling someone play with my nipples and clit while pounding the crap out of my mouth, ass, and cunt. (I finally learned what the phrases "fuck her brains out" and "fuck the s___ out of her" really meant. I even came to enjoy gently fondling and tonguing another girl in the rare interludes when no guy was waiting to use me. Once in a great while, one of my fellow whores was so attractive that I longed to shove my long-departed cock into her, but I quickly repressed that thought.) To all intents and purposes, I was nothing but a horny, happy sex object quietly waiting until my indenture was completed.