Circle Star Slave Pt. 01

"Well, I have very good credit now that I'd paid off my college loans, and besides, it was easy to get a loan when I pledged you as collateral! In fact, I imagine that the executives at OUR bank would love to foreclose on you so they can keep you around the office as a naked sex toy, passing you around between them every night." Oh, god, I could just imagine how mortifying that would be. I closed my eyes at the horror of that idea.

Jimmy--I have to learn to think of him as "Master" to avoid a bad mistake!--must have seen the fear in my face. "Don't worry, babe, I have no intention of letting that happen, so I borrowed the money from someone else. As a matter of fact, because I was sitting behind the executives at your auction, they probably didn't notice who was bidding on you!" I felt a flood of relief that must have showed in my face. "BUT," he continued, "As you can imagine, I'm gonna have to rent you out rather frequently to make the payments on the loan." Crap--I had imagined being sold as a sex slave, but the prospect of a young kid whom I had known owning and pimping me out was only slightly less disgusting than being a sex toy for the Seventh Floor.

"I can see you don't like the situation, but in case you haven't noticed, Erin, what you like isn't going to be important for the next eight years, is it?" He inquired gently but stared hard at me. I knew he was right, so I dropped my eyes and murmured, "No, Master."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his face become even harder and he nodded, as if to himself. "I think it's time we get something straight between us"--and then, realizing what he had just said, he grinned lewdly and snickered.

"OK, slave, stand up, sit your cute ass down on the end of that table, then lie back onto the table." I dutifully obeyed--I didn't want the wrangler to shock me. "Now," Jimmie continued, I want you to lift up your legs, bend them at the knees, and put your feet on the table next to your tight little butt." Again, I had no choice about obeying this dweeb who used to report to me. "Now," he continued, "Put your hands on your ankles to hold them there, and... let your knees fall apart, spreading them as wide as possible."

I don't know where this young guy had learned it, but he certainly knew how to impose his will on a slave. There I was, slave naked and spread out so that he could see every inch of my damp sex--not to mention my boobs! Next, he walked over beside the table, reaching with one hand to squeeze my boob and then my nipple, while the other hand slid down to heft my thighs, two-finger-fuck my birth canal, and then very gently tease my clit, which was already standing erect while I leaked liquid. The combination of being completely exposed while he casually toyed with my body brought me most of the way to orgasm. I suddenly realized that was panting with arousal.

Driven half out of my mind by a combination of exposure and fondling, without thinking I murmured, "Ummm--please fuck me, Master."

Jimmie picked up on that, and his voice became warm and almost condescending. "So you want me to fuck you, Erin? OK, but you know that as a slave you have to ask me politely to use your slutty cunt."

He was determined to maximize his control, but by now I recognized that I had to go along with the humiliation if I wanted anything out of the encounter. So I fell back on the Block Yoga mantras I had been forced to repeat that morning: "Master, will you please shove your massive dick up my slutty little cunt?"

At least he delivered, temporarily putting me out of my misery. A surprisingly-large and stiff prick suddenly occupied my lubricated passage and began to pump more and more rapidly in and out of me. At first, he clutched my hips tightly, fingering my new brand, but after a few dozen thrusts he reached up with both hands, grabbed my breasts hard, and used THEM as handles to shaft me, pulling me down the table towards his cock and thrusting hips. I was moaning almost incoherently, begging him to "Please, keep fucking me... right... there!" The sensation was so great that (I later realized) my brand wasn't even hurting for the first time in over a week. In seconds I had my best orgasm in months, followed a few seconds later by the sensation of hot jism flooding my innards. Then he collapsed onto my heaving chest as we both struggled for breath.

When he finally stood back up and retrieved his trousers, I remained spread, waiting for him to release me from the lewd position required by his instructions. I did, however, smile and tell him "Thank you, Master." Slavery was still humiliating, but I had just discovered that it wasn't all bad. As a free woman, having a strong guy pin my down and shaft me gave me a submissive thrill, but having a former subordinate order slave Erin around and casually fuck her was FANTASTIC.

*****

He was obviously pleased with himself and me, but tried to remain a commanding, in-charge master. "Stand up, slave... Back hands!" I almost jumped to respond to this new, impressive version of the young guy I had known and felt sorry for--and I heard the wrangler step forward and cuff my wrists behind me. Then I became aware that my new owner's cum was dribbling down my leg.

Master James spoke, very pleasantly, to the wrangler, "She seems to be leaking; would you mind getting her cleaned up before I take her away?"

"No problem, Sir," said the obliging wrangler, and then, in a much firmer, condescending voice, "Let's go, bitch--time for a Slut Wash." As if I had any choice, with my hands cuffed and his fingers inserted firmly between my buttocks, grasping and pressuring my tush as he guided me out of the cage, down a hall between other cages, and finally to what looked like a car wash. The only difference was that the "cars" being washed were all people, slave naked, bound people. In short order, I found my legs tethered three feet apart while a winch pulled upward on a cable connected to the chain of the cuffs behind my back. This upwards pressure forced me to bend over to avoid dislocating my shoulders; my breasts dangled freely below me, completing the image of exposure and helplessness.

The two young men in rainsuits who washed me took full advantage of that exposure, fondling and goosing me, then flushing both my rectum and my labia with lukewarm water, all the while speculating between them about how well such an "old cow" as me would perform when shafted and whether my "ass" was as tight as it looked (that question was followed by each of then shoving two gloved fingers up my butt to check. Apparently I passed their test!) Being over-charged sexually, I kind of enjoyed this dominant attention, but not enough to get any sexual release out of the situation. Instead, after a trip to the commode to expel the enema and then a quick blow-dry, I found myself once again handcuffed, this time on a leash that Master James used to lead me out of the building. At least he'd paid for a pair of flip-flops to protect my feet, but otherwise I was once again outside, in daylight, fully exposed to the view of dozens of people. Free people, unlike me.

My new owner--and didn't THAT sound weird!--noticed my embarrassment, so when he reached a modest convertible sports car, he talked about the situation while releasing my wrists from behind my back.

"Now that you're a pleasure slut," he began, very calmly, "We need to help you overcome this embarrassment, this instinct to try to cover up, which is only appropriate for a free woman. You've got a nice bod, sweetheart, and part of your responsibility as a slave is to improve the view for any free adults looking at you." he remarked as he casually groped both of my breasts, ensuring that my arousal remained close to its peak. "So," he continued, "There's no reason for you to get up-tight; I need to ensure you're accustomed to public nudity and display. Sit down in the car and fasten your seat belt."

Of course, that meant that the shoulder belt passed right between my pendulous breasts, but that wasn't the worst of it. Once I was belted in, he re-cuffed my wrists in front of me and told me to reach behind my head and grasp the headrest. This naturally caused my mammaries to stick out with erect nipples as if I were putting on a sex show--at which time he used some cord to tie the wrist cuffs to the headrest so that I was immobilized in a position where I seemed to be offering myself to anyone who even glanced towards the car.

"Relax, slut," he said as he drove out of the parking lot. "Like I said, one of your duties as my pleasure slave is to ensure everyone gets a good look at that body--so smile!" It was hard to stay calm, let alone smile, and I got even more distressed when passing cars "honked at my hooters" and Master James casually fondled my breast or my clit every time he paused at a stop light! I didn't know whether to die of humiliation or climax from sexual arousal. Maybe both, comig and going simultaneously?

And then it got worse. He parked next to a credit union, untied me from the car seat, and led me in the front door, this time by my cuffed hands. Inside the lobby were two cashiers and several patrons--all of them, of course, fully clothed, and all of them looking with contempt at the lowly slave flaunting her body in their view. Master James asked the receptionist by the front door if he could see the manager, and two minutes later he led me into an office and ordered me to kneel--which of course required me to spread my thighs vulnerably apart and again hook my cuffed hands behind my neck, offering everything I had for public viewing.

And THEN I realized that the credit union official James was meeting was Ralph Oliver--a former employee of our bank with whom I had tangled on several occasions. I didn't think it was possible for me to blush redder, but I was wrong. Ralph lost no time in gloating about my loss of status:

"Well, well." He murmured, staring at my naked body. "The great Erin Hutchinson, on her knees, cuffed and butt naked in my office. I always thought you'd make a good fuck, but I can see you're actually a little fat and over the hill." He shifted his gaze and addressed my owner. "I'd heard that she got in trouble over embezzlement, which doesn't surprise me because she was always a wise-ass. Only now, I gather, her wise ass just got branded!" He snickered. "So, what can I do for you, Jim?"

"Well, Ralph, you may be aware that your credit union lent me the money to buy this slut, so I thought it best if I brought her in to register her officially as the chattel collateral for the loan." Master James replied.

Ralph's smile seemed to grow even wider, if that were possible. "Jeeze, Jimmy. I approved the loan when you told me you were buying a Choice slave for your personal use, but I didn't realize just WHICH slut you were buying. For the first time since I became manager here, I have to admit that I hope one of our credit union members defaults on the loan--so I can repossess this bitch! She'd be useful entertaining new customers, not to mention bent over my desk." They both snickered, then went through some paperwork, including copies of my slave registration data (with those blush-worthy photos from the slave registry!) and a loan contract. When they were finished, Master James again referred directly to me.

"I'm sure you know, Ralph, that it's a tradition for a slave to orally service the official who registers her indenture. Since she was judicially enslaved before I bought her at the Longhorn, Erin hasn't had a chance to participate in that tradition. Would you care to have this little whore service you?"

I wanted to sink into the floor and die at that moment, whereas Ralph was overjoyed. "Erin Hutchinson, the arrogant bitch who always made my life miserable at that bank, on her knees wearing nothing but a collar while sucking my dick? Sure, why not?"

"You know what to do," said Master James firmly but almost kindly while looking at me. "Don't embarrass me, girl; and don't forget to ask nicely for permission, got it?"

Crap; it seemed there was no bottom to my fall from grace. "Yes, Master," I squeaked as I brought my cuffed hands down in front of me and crawled awkwardly around the near end of the desk, acutely aware that my bare hips were swaying like a cow's. At the end of my crawl, a smiling Ralph had turned his chair sideways to face me and then unzipped his trousers.

"Master," I began tentatively, practically fainting with humiliation. "May I please suck your monster cock?"

"You may, slut," he replied, and added the command to "mouth."

Once again, I had to nerve myself to go through with the act. I'd never thought I would be grateful for my time servicing all those bailiffs, but at least they had taught me what to do and how to overcome my humiliation. Presented with his rigid penis, I licked it all over before plunging my smiling mouth over it, swallowing as much as I could and working my head back and forth as I stared reverently into his gloating face, pretending that I was enjoying myself whereas I would rather have faced another whipping and branding that make this arrogant bastard happy. My instinct was to get it over with quickly, but I had learned the HARD way, while licking other hard dicks, that this would not satisfy most men, so I slowed down and used my tongue and lips to deliver as much sensation as possible. After about five minutes, he erupted into my mouth so strongly that I couldn't contain the flood of jism; a little of it trickled out of the corners of my mouth. Struggling to breathe around the gooey, repellant stuff, I thrust out my tongue to display the cum to the guy who had just used me like the lowest form of sex object. He found one more chance to subjugate me by pulling out his camera and photographing my blushing, dripping face with the tongue full of goo.

"They say a photograph is worth a thousand words, but THIS photo of bitch-goddess Hutchinson finally performing something she's qualified for--a blow job--is worth a thousand bucks. Just wait until I e-mail this to all my friends at her former bank."

"Sounds good to me--she needs to learn her place," Master James commented. "But--do me a favor, please, and don't tell them WHO owns her, or I'll never get any peace at work with people asking to rent or borrow her cunt. Tell you what--if you keep quiet as to who owns her ass, I'll be glad to bring her back to visit you in a month, OK?" How humiliating would it be, I wondered, to be a slave slut for this guy simply to avoid even greater subjugation from my other former colleagues? Of course, my new owner had already taught me that I had no choice about who used me in what way, or even who got to see my naked, so there was no sense worrying about the humiliation. Hell, Jimmy would be within his rights to cage me in his bank office and rent me out by the hour to all my former colleagues!

*****

After another ride with my hands tied to the headrest and my bobbing boobs on full display (in a manner that kept my nipples at full prominence), he again released me from his car, this time to lead me on a leash walking SLOOWWLLYY through the lobby of an apartment building to his modest one-bedroom home. Once he released my cuffed hands, he indicated a place on the carpet in front of a chair; by now I had learned to assume the kneeling position without hesitation, even though it was a supremely submissive pose that exposed every inch of my body to his gaze and touch. Sitting down in that chair, he was motionless for a few minutes--and I realized that he was looking at my face rather than my body, even though the front of his pants were still tented.

Finally, he asked, "What have you learned today, Erin?"

I knew what he wanted to hear, and he had certainly taught me the hard way: "That my Master controls who gets to see and use me, so there's no sense worrying about my situation. But it's still hard to live like that."

He sighed. "I know it's a shock for you, and I empathize. But, that's why I want you to get over your loss of freedom and modesty. Soooo, since now you understand that I control whatever happens to you, what do you need to do?"

"Try to please you in any way possible. Speaking of which, may I suck your massive cock, Master?" It was humiliating but true that I was not only turned on by my subjugation but also quickly learning that I should cater to my owner if I hoped for any kind of safety and stability over the next eight years. I reminded myself that, if I found it humiliating to kneel and blow my younger former colleague, at least he seemed to care about my well-being and care how I felt. I could easily find myself as the office slut servicing ALL of my gloating former co-workers, who would happily pound all my openings every day and take turns using me at night and on weekends.

There was no sense hurrying with my mouth and tongue, because Master James had the power to make me serve him in far more unpleasant ways. I thought I even smelled (and tasted) remnants of my own arousal from when he had mounted me at the Longhorn. Now, as I gently lapped and sucked at every inch of his growing penis, he petted my hair and told me what he expected of me. In brief: he would dictate whether and how I dressed--and I was thrilled by the thought of wearing ANY clothing about eight days in the buff, even though I suspected (correctly) that his idea of appropriate clothing would be far more revealing than the pant suits I had worn as a free and very well paid woman.

Beyond that, he expected me to clean and cook for him whenever he was not (shudder) renting me out. Some nights I would be honored to warm his bed, but if I was difficult or disobedient in any way I would be relegated to a small cage without even a blanket to keep me warm. He also demanded instant response if he sent me to the corner or otherwise placed me in "time out." To reinforce his control, once he unloaded down my throat he put me through a series of raunchy slave yoga poses with accompanying mantra.

Master James also instructed me to wear a clear plastic apron whenever I was cooking, starting that evening by broiling him a steak and using a combination of microwave and oven to bake a potato. Once the meal was prepared, he had me kneel next to him while he ate, in which position he periodically offered me a bite of steak, potato, or salad, all of which tasted heavenly after more than a week of slave kibble and vegetable mash.

I caught myself leaning my head and torso (including my left breast) comfortably against his leg, feeling (in comparison to the previous eight days) as if I were safe and cared for. After supper was over, he petted my hair like an animal. With a start, I recognized that I was slipping into slave mind, sort of like an abused dog (OK, literally a bitch!) who had finally found someone, however demanding, to take care of it--a true master. I was still naked and collared, but now, at least, I was the possession of a nice guy who had (at one time, anyway) liked and respected me enough to want to date. Trouble was, there were no dating rituals now; he could use me any time and any way he wanted, and (at least in comparison to being the office whore where I used to work) I would have to be grateful for his protection.

That sense of being a treasured if controlled pet only increased when we showered together and then he took me to bed. With my hands cuffed in front of me and my owner spooning behind me, I fell asleep feeling safe and almost happy after eight days of horror.

And woke up feeling the same way. I slipped out of bed and, still cuffed, managed to urinate and brush my teeth. Then, knowing what was expected of bedwarmers, I crawled under the covers and began licking, sucking, and fondling his cock and balls. I knew he was awake because his hand gently toyed with my hair while I continued to fellate him. When he was fully erect and I took a breath before trying to swallow all of him, he suddenly flipped me over, dragged my body up the bed, and pushed my bound wrists over my head and behind my neck, so that he could grasp each wrist with his arms under my back. I had no trouble thinking of him as "Master James" because he clearly mastered me, pinning me down and pounding me to a rapid climax--a climax for him, that is. For a moment, I was afraid that he would leave me unsatisfied, but once again he displayed his concern by pulling me back into a spoon and then furiously man-handling my clit and nipples until I, in turn, exploded. Damn, I thought--if I HAVE to be a slave, this is a pretty great way to live!