Involuntary Man Slut

"Follow." I stumbled after her. The twin globes of her ass fought for supremacy under the tight leather skirt. Watching her ass straightened my cock in spite of my situation. She led me down a long corridor to a door that opened into an alley where a large black SUV waited. The sunlight made me squint for a moment then she pulled a hood over my head and led me around to the back of the vehicle.

"Get in the trunk. It's a short ride but we don't want any nosy do-gooders seeing what you have become, do we?" She unclipped my leash and I crawled awkwardly into the trunk without the use of my hands. She slammed the trunk shut and I lay naked in the dark hooded, with nothing but a cock strap on; merchandise on its way to market.

The End Game

The car stopped. I heard her heels on the pavement then the trunk clicked open.

"Get out." I struggled to get my feet out first, finally lurching out of the trunk onto the ground. My legs gave way and I fell to my knees.

"Get up! Your legs will work, they're just cramped." She seemed to know all about how that worked. She half-walked, half-dragged me down a corridor and down a flight of stairs. A slap on the ass sent me stumbling into a room with a carpeted floor. I sensed more light through my hood. I stood erect, knowing I was being appraised.

"This is your new owner slut. I'm handing your leash to her now. You know the rule: you and your cock must obey any female holding your leash." I heard the chain leash jingle and felt the tug of a new hand on the reigns as my leash was passed on.

"Come closer," said a husky female voice. Let me see if the girls have prepared you properly." I complied cautiously, not really understanding but knowing I had no real choice. I had been 'sold on'. This woman owned me now, so I followed the pull on my genitals. The flat of her hand against my abdomen stopped me. The same hand slid cautious down and touched my cock lightly. I felt myself begin to stiffen. I had been conditioned to harden at the slightest female touch.

Hours of training flashed through my mind. Training sessions where my sexual need was accelerated, then exploited. Driven to unimaginable tension then denied release until my handler decided I deserved a reward for good behavior. My release usually followed a lot of licking, unless of course she decided not to reward me. My pleasure always depended on my ability to please her.

As though she could read my thoughts, the new woman tugged on my leash and I knelt down between her thighs. I could smell her. She smelled like soap and lavender, like she had just washed as a favor for her new boy.

"If you want him to perform you're going to have to take his hood off," my trainer observed dryly.

I recognized the tone of voice. In addition to the pragmatic suggestion, I knew that my handler also wanted to watch me being degraded. The implication was there. Once the make-shift hood came off, any pretense of anonymity vanished. I would see her and be able to report her for abuse. Taking my hood off was code for 'you're never going to escape from being an owned slut.' She wanted me to see the whole picture of my helpless, depraved situation. I knew she got pleasure from inflicting sexual torture, and I knew she enjoyed controlling her man-sluts psychologically. She was arousing herself one last time with her boy.

The bag came off my head and I saw a middle-aged, overweight Hispanic woman with short dark hair holding the end of my leash. She was attractive, in a voluptuous kind of way, and she was completely naked. Huge breasts rested on her chest. Erect nipples the size of pool cue tips stood ready to be sucked. The big woman widened her spread and with one hand on the back of my head, pulled my face into her crotch.

"Let's see how well you can please me," she rasped. "You'll need to earn your keep around here." Her foot tapped against my cock. "Spread!" I spread my legs apart for her. She fondled my erection with her bare foot. Moving with what I assumed she wanted, I rocked my hips against the pressure, fucking her foot. She slapped my balls with the back of her foot impatiently.

"Stop moving puta, I will tell you when to fuck. Right now I want to feel your surrender. Quit moving and lick."

My cock stayed hard as I licked through the folds of the long wet slit. I found her clit and sucked on it. She pulled my face against her and clamped her thighs around my head. For a brief, breathless moment I panicked. Then the training kicked in and I licked as fast as I could. I sucked and licked her nib until she shrieked and flooded my face.

Her big thighs relaxed and after drawing in a few deep breaths I cleaned her as best I could, licking and swallowing the excess escaping from her pussy.

"That's enough." The big woman pushed me away.

"Do you want this posted to the girls' website or do you want to keep your newest purchase to yourself for now?" My trainer asked. She had been filming my performance with her phone for my new owner. She looked at me squatting between the legs of my new mistress, amused.

"So, you have the proof you wanted. But you will not be able to use it will you? Because of your depraved desires, you are one of the boys now," she smiled. "Maybe someone less of an inherent slut would have exposed our operation, but not you." She moved close enough to cup my face in her hand.

"You never asked about what happened to the boys after they were enslaved. You know, ... if this is how a man-slut is made, how does it end? Her hand patted my cheek. "You belong to Consuela now. That's how it ends for you, slut."