Diary of a Contracted Slave

Mistress Christina took the day off, ostensibly to have a rest, but really to talk to me without her wife being around to hear it. While Bobbi rested in the soundproof cell, Mistress Christina explained that now she'd decided I was to be sold soon, she'd found a new affection for me, and she invited me to spend the day with her to really show her what I could do. I weighed my options -- resist or go with it, while she fingered a remote control that can activate all my pain nanites.

I dropped to my knees and crawled to her right there in the sitting room, and kissed her feet passionately until she got the message -- I was hers to use however she wanted. She stood tall and bade me look up at her, towering over me, superior and in control. Then she dropped her skirt and opened her legs, and I dove in with a smile on my face. When Mistress Savitri got home, she found me passed out on the big bed, in the arms of an equally exhausted Mistress Christina -- we never stopped going at it all the day long.

Day 134

After a few days of domestic harmony, it finally came out that Mistress Christina wants to sell me. She and Mistress Savitri had a heated discussion in the sitting room while Bobbi and I knelt before them in display posture, and watched the debate unfold. I wanted so desperately to explain to them that I didn't mind being sold, that it was OK, I never wanted to come between them, but they had muted my nanites. As the discussion went on, I realised why -- they had to come to this themselves, and I was already coming between them. Any more 'input' from me would just confuse things.

Mistress Savitri cried when she admitted I would have to be sold, but she looked at her free-wife and her slave-wife, and something came into her eyes -- a steely resolve that emerged as she wiped away the tears. She looked me over, some new passion taking hold of her, and caught the eye of the two permanent members of her family.

"I guess it's time for a going away ceremony, then," she said.

Day 140

6 days in the planning. 6 long, strange days when I had been locked in chastity without hope of being let out, spanked, whipped, smothered, made to bathe all my female superiors in long, lingering baths and regularly fucked out on the balcony, for all the city to see. When they weren't using me on rotation, I gathered my owners and their slave-wife were making sure my going away ceremony would be a day, and a night, and a day, to remember. With my aching cock always trying to break free, the hour of commencement finally came along, as I sat caged in the grand hotel suite my owners had rented.

Mistress Savitri opened the door to the suite and walked in, wearing a corset, long leather boots, and nothing else. Mistress Christina came in similarly dressed, and Bobbi followed, completely naked and on a leash. Behind her came a trio of the youngest, prettiest rental slavegirls I'd ever seen, one black, one white, and one who could have been of Chinese descent from Ancient Earth. Mistress Savitri unlocked my cage and had me crawl out, then she made me kneel in a display position in the middle of the room. All six women crowded round me.

"Slave Heath, you have served us well these past few months. Our parting gift to you is an orgy of submission -- for you, that is. Each woman in this room will spank you, fuck you, facesit you, whip you, and just make use of you in any way you seem most to enjoy. Whenever one of us gets tired, another will take her place. Questions?" said Mistress Savitri.

"May I start and end by licking your pussy?" I asked her -- she was the only one of them that truly mattered to me, even if what we had wasn't really true love of any sort.

"You may, slaveboy. I want you to remember forever how I taste."

I think I will.

Day 142

After a two-day orgy, I have been sold. Mistress Savitri and Bobbi cried a little, but Mistress Christina was their rock while it happened. I know now why they never keep a slaveboy longer than a year -- I mean really know it, down deep where it matters. They have a careful dynamic, a relationship that needs three spokes to keep it turning and can't have another one grafted in. I cried a little too, until the relief washed over me in great waves. The tension is over now, and the inevitable has happened. I care about those women too much to be the thing that ruins their happiness, so I have to accept being sold. Any longer and I'd have gotten too attached as well.

They stayed at the auction -- to buy themselves another male servant -- then left me there, chained up and caged, like the piece of property I am, until a bratty eighteen year old bought me to have some fun with until she left home to go to university. She made herself very clear -- she's bought me for two months and then she's going to sell me again. My new Mistress is very short, slim to the point of skinny, with mousy brown hair, creamy skin and green eyes that almost glow, and she carries herself with a haughty air that makes me obey without thinking.

In the air-taxi to her mother's country mansion, she asked me about my previous owners, and she got to the sexual parts of our relationship so fast I could tell they were all she was really interested in. Kneeling before my new owner, I told her everything I was comfortable revealing, and she grew twitchier and more turned on with every anecdote, until we landed and she practically dragged me into the mansion's pleasure room to worship her pussy and arse.

She doesn't like Heath as a name, so she's going to call me Fucktoy instead. I watched her type it into my ownership record, so now it's my official name, and the one she'll use to introduce me to anyone who visits. It's going to be an intense summer.

Day 143

The mansion is served by two other slaves, who run things day-to-day -- a butler and a maid, both female and both very much my superiors in the pecking order. My owner's name, I now know, is Mistress Angelica, and she has made it clear that while her Fucktoy is to follow the other servants' orders, they are not to wear me out. They look like they feel sorry for me, which makes me very nervous indeed.

Mistress Angelica spent the day raping me. There's really no other way I can describe it. With the strapon or using my cock, she exults in her power over me and doesn't even consider that a slave might have needs or desires of his own. When she'd finished fucking me senseless, she sent me off to wash myself clean, then she took me into the garden, chained me up between two stout trees, and whipped me until I cried. I think she forgot me for a few hours, and when she eventually came back, it was just to let me down and have me crawl into the cage in her soft, pink bedroom where I'll sleep.

Day 144

In the middle of her bedroom wall is a chart where Mistress Angelica is going to track how many orgasms I've given her, with a gold star for any that were especially good. Normal orgasms count for one point, and starred ones count for two. When I reach thirty points, I may be allowed to cum, but only if I beg humbly in front of her and anyone else she cares to have witness my subjection. I've seen no sight of her mother or any of the rest of her family -- they must have given her the run of the house to have her fun. Some kind of coming of age present, I think.

I got five points today -- three normal ones, and a gold star for the orgasm she had while she fucked me with the strapon in the garden. It felt so right to beg her to fuck me harder and harder, and every time she rammed the long, thick dildo inside me it loosened my ties to Bobbi, Christina and Savitri. "I love it when you beg like a little slut, Fucktoy," she said, "I'm so glad I bought you."

Days 145-147

My new owner is insatiable. She never tires, not even after she's fucked me, whipped me, exercised with me, fucked me again, fucked the servants, spanked the servants, fucked me some more, then supervised the three of us to clean the mansion from top to bottom. I sleep the deep sleep of an exhausted slaveboy. Is this some kind of psychological gambit, to make me forget my old owners and accept my new one? Is the brat thing just an act? Or is it real and it just so happens to be extremely effective? It's a lot of fun being a Fucktoy, but my body aches in ways I never knew it could.

Day 148

I earned enough points for an orgasm by mid-afternoon. The more I debase myself before her, the more I beg, the more I make myself her slutty slave-whore who just can't get enough of Mistress's big strapon cock, the more powerful her orgasms get, and the more gold stars I receive. My desperation for the orgasm has grown day by day, hour by hour, as I worship every inch of her perfect body and start to forget I ever had a name other than Fucktoy.

She was gracious enough to remember when I'd earned it, and even more gracious to grant it straight away. She dressed herself up in a sleek, red, formal dress, with a matching necklace and high heels, then she leashed me and had me crawl behind her to the sitting room. There, she called the butler and the maid to watch, and released my cock from its cage. Relief filled me as I finally got hard, but I waited for her order to touch myself. 'Myself' is such a strange word for a slave to say, isn't it? She owns my body.

Mistress Angelica stood in her smart dress, fully clothed as only a free-woman can be, then she held my leash and had me kneel in front of her. She rested her right shoe on my thigh, and dug the heel in just enough for me to feel some pain as I waited for her commands.

"Ask permission, Fucktoy," she said.

"Yes, Mistress. Please may I have permission to cum, mistress?"

"You may, Fucktoy. But where will you be cumming?"

"Erm, er ... On your foot, Mistress?"

"Yes, so ask for permission."

"Mistress, please may I have permission to cum on your foot?"

"Yes, Fucktoy. Begin."

My hand leapt to my cock and soon I was masturbating in a frenzy. I kept looking down at my owner's shapely foot on my thigh, then back up, up, up at her imperious smile as she gazed down at me. Her smart red dress turned me on. It reminded me I was a naked slaveboy and she the mistress of her own world and mine, my absolute superior and the only person in the world I really needed to pay attention to.

She held my leash with one hand and rested the other on her hip, and I could see in her eyes that she knew her power over me was completed in the moment I came all over her red shoe, then begged her for the privilege of licking it clean, which passed my lips so quickly that it surprised even me. With permission granted, I made a great show of cleaning every last drop from her foot, then from the tiled floor where it had dripped, until there was no trace of my cum left for any to find.

"Good boy, Fucktoy. Oh, and your next orgasm will require thirty-five points. Now, slave, take off my knickers so I can sit on your face."

Day 149

Today my owner showed me her darker side. The pleasure room of her family's mansion comes equipped with a range of torture devices, and I got to know them intimately. With my nanites set to keep my cock flaccid, Mistress Angelica, dressed in a black leather mini-dress, swapped out my normal cock cage for one with internal spikes, then she lubed up a buttplug and slipped it inside me. The plug expanded until it filled to me bursting, and she activated its vibrating function. With the erection block cancelled, I was already grunting in pain as she led me into the room, with my cock pulsing in its cage of spikes.

My nanites will heal almost any minor wound, so Mistress Angelica didn't need to hold back. I stood in chains and she cut my flesh with a vicious flogger, then she chained me down to a torture table and queened me while she used the flogger on my balls. I licked her between my moans of agony, and she came so hard it took me two minutes to swallow all of her juices.

She decided to fuck me with a stim-strapon, turned to shock mode, while she flogged my back and etched red lines of pain with every stroke. I broke halfway through the fucking, weeping and begging her to stop as the sensations all came together and overwhelmed me. It just pushed her harder, and she told me she was setting my nanites to keep me conscious.

Next came the candles. With me chained down to the table, Mistress covered me with burning hot wax that left spots of pain for long, hard seconds as it cooled from molten through to solid. She made my nanites get my cock hard but blocked my orgasms, then she straddled me and took me inside her while she dripped wax onto my nipples and took another orgasm from me.

Mistress Angelica changed the pace, and took me over her knee to paddle me with six different implements until my buttocks were black and blue and my nanites were working overtime to heal up the damage. She giggled to herself as I pleaded with her to stop, but my words just drove her harder and harder still. When she let me off her knee, I was a quivering mess, and I lay in a heap at her feet and sucked in deep breaths to calm myself and get ready for whatever she had in store for me next.

Back up on my feet, she tortured my nipples with clamps, which were set to tighten over the course of an hour. She sat in a red leather chair and masturbated with a vibrator while she watched my agony build, and she came three times while she watched me writhe and buck. I tried to flick my chest to loosen the clamps, but they had some kind of nano-filament that held them fast, which meant my attempts at escape only hurt me more. I could swear the moment I realised that was the moment Mistress Angelica had her most powerful orgasm.

I'm typing this on a virtual keyboard in my cage at night, with my fingers barely able to hit the keys, after the most painful and agonising twelve hours I've ever spent. If I ever doubted Mistress Angelica's absolute power before, I will never do so again. I begged her on hands and knees to never torture me like this again, but she just giggled and ordered me away. This won't be the last time.

Days 150-153

Mistress and I fucked like bunnies, and I reached thirty-five points just before I passed out from exhaustion in her bed. To my surprise, I woke up there the next morning, but she took away my orgasm for the impertinence and insisted I give her a whole extra day's worth of orgasms to earn mine. She still hasn't given me it -- apparently some friends are visiting tomorrow, and it can wait until then.

Day 154

My mistress's friends certainly know each other well. To say theirs is an intimate friendship would be an incredible understatement. One of them brought her male sex-slave, a temporary chattel like me, who I think is about the same age as my owner and the girls she knows, unless his age was just fixed to look that young. There are seven girls in total. With my mistress and the other slave-owner sitting to one side, the other five drew straws in tense, excited silence. One drew the long straw, jumped up in triumph, and left the other four kneeling clutching short straws.

Mistress Angelica quickly placed a camera in front of them, and called up a virtual enslavement centre. The kneeling girls all took temporary oaths of slavery, like mine but only for three days and with a much longer list of restrictions, including never leaving the mansion and there never being any record made of their activities. Just like that, they became the temporary property of my mistress and her two friends, who took them through into the bathroom, still clothed, and chained them in a row, their hands held high above their heads.

Their clothes were all expensive, high-quality, very stylish, but the mistresses still cut them off with shears and let the scraps fall in a heap around the temporary slavegirls, while I and the other male -- a nameless possession referred to by his owner simply as 'slaveboy' - watched. Despite their trembling and the stuttering way that the slavegirls said 'mistress', a word normally used to refer to themselves, not another, I could tell the girls were all getting into it. Perhaps they'd done this together many times.

When the slavegirls were all naked, Mistress Angelica handed the slaveboy and I shaving kits and told us to get the slavegirls' pussies bare. I lathered up a ginger girl's thick, luscious bush, and I used the special safety razor to strip every last bit of it away, until her smooth pussy glistened with the special aftercare oil I applied. The next slavegirl had a much darker complexion, with a mass of curly black hair on her pussy that I removed in just the same way, while she shook and sighed with every stroke of the razor.

Chained up and shaved bare, the slavegirls were collared, then Mistress Angelica inked a number onto the side of each of their thighs -- 1 through 4 -- which became the slavegirls' only names for the next three days. The three mistresses unchained them and led us all through into the pleasure room, which someone had reconfigured with an array of beds, sofas and chairs for us all to use.

My mistress took slavegirl 3, a curvy girl of Asian origin, and tied her to a bed to make love to her with a strapon. The mistress who had drawn the long straw, a tall, pale redhead, took slavegirl 4, a voluptuous brunette, and did the same. That left the other male's owner holding the leashes of slavegirls 1 and 2, who I had shaved. She took the second for herself, and gave the ginger slavegirl -- number 1 -- to myself and the other slaveboy, with orders to spitroast her right there on the floor until we all came.

I half expected her to bolt, but instead she dropped onto all-fours and opened her legs and mouth, a hungry look taking hold of her face. With our cock cages off, the two slaveboys instantly got hard, and we discussed what we should do while the slavegirl waited. I'd never had my cock in any girl's mouth, so the other male let me take that end while he penetrated the slavegirl's pussy with his long, thick cock.

What was on my mind as she took me in her mouth was how much of a Fucktoy I really was. There was nothing dominant in my mind as I spitroasted a slavegirl, just the certainty that I was there to serve as a living sextoy for the septet of women who'd come together to play a game of trust and pleasure. I wasn't playing any games, I realised. For me, slavery was a serious endeavour, a way of acknowledging the absolute superiority of the female sex, which I'd been foolish to deny myself the opportunity to do for so long. And a way of being me -- I almost feel like the person I'm supposed to be now.

I filled that slavegirl's mouth with great jets of cum, and she swallowed them down hungrily and kept sucking my cock until a mistress ordered her to stop. She moaned delightfully as the other slaveboy held her by the hips and fucked her hard and fast, and somehow he timed it so they came together, in one big burst of ecstasy. When they were finished, she sprang to her feet and kissed me, then we knelt side by side while the mistresses completed ravishing their slavegirls.

All the slavegirls wanted to know what it was like to have a male fuck their mouth, so the slaveboy and I had our nanites set to get our cocks hard again, and off we went. I took slavegirl 3 by the hair and gave her what she needed, never letting her pull away to get space in her mouth. A lot of slavery is like that -- not being able to stop, not being able to say no -- and I wanted her to get the right taste of it in the little holiday she was having in my life.

We left the slaveboy and slavegirl 4 face-fucking, and we were led downstairs to the wide, cool stone lobby for some obedience training. The mistresses put us through our paces with star jumps, sit-ups, push ups and all the exercises they could think of; the first to displease them was slavegirl 2, who addressed her temporary owners without adding 'Mistress' first. They chained her to the wall and flogged her breasts until she cried freely, and then they had me get her off with my tongue to calm her down. I couldn't tell if they were playing mindgames with her or if they just thought they'd gone too far with their friend. With a proper slave like me, they'd never have thought twice about whipping me to tears for such obvious disrespect.