Repaying My College Loans Pt. 07

(SPOILER ALERT: If the story of the Judge's treatment of Clarice outrages you as much as it did me, please wait until the final part of this little tale. Karma coming.)

Clarice arrived at just the right time. I was already in some demand from high-rolling business and government partners, including regular stretching sessions at the end of the judge's shaft. Now, my Mistress came up with a new way to merchandise my body: employee morale. She started a new contest, in which the Fort Worth employee-of-the-month for XYZ Bank would get me for a three-day weekend. The lucky winner could even specify how he/she wanted me gift wrapped: As a French maid, a lady in a little black dress, or (the most popular option) a slave slut, delivered to the winner's home just as I had arrived from the Pearson Pussy Ranch.

Thus, I often began a weekend with vibrators strapped up my cunt and ass, kneeling naked, gagged, and bound in a dog cage. (Yeah, the delivery service usually found an excuse to sample my wares before delivering me. I didn't mind that much and they were keeping me safe while I was helpless in transit.) Ms. Williams put various limits on what the employee-of-the-month could do with me, because she didn't want me gang-banged by dozens of guys or exposed to STDs. These weekends were a lot of sexy fun, but I sometimes came home with my buttocks and pelvis bruised not by flagellation but by overly-vigorous pounding from horny men in their 20's. They left me so worn out afterwards that Mistress sometimes gave me a day off to recover. She also credited me with another $1000 per weekend, invoiced to the bank as Employee Incentives.

At first, only single males were interested in the new perk. Most wives expressed disgust at the idea, although one winner's spouse encouraged him to take me to their vacation cabin for the weekend and indulge all the fantasies that he knew she did not share. Wise woman—that was SOME weekend, even with my ever-growing experience! Not only did he repeatedly sodomize me orally and anally, something that many women refuse to permit, but he tried some unusual forms of bondage. I found myself spread eagled on the ground, tied between four tent stakes—kind of fun except for the bug bites; he finally used some insect repellent on both of us. In the evening, he lowered the wagon-wheel light fixture in the cabin's main room, tied my four limbs to the spokes of the wheel, then hoisted me up a few feet so he could run candles into my orifices and drop hot wax on my body. Weird, a little painful, but survivable. We both climaxed several times a day.)

I digress—my point is that, at first, women were opposed in the contest, and one of them even complained to my Mistress. Slavery was tolerable as an abstract concept, even though most male slaves worked as laborers while a significant number of female slaves were pleasure sluts. Yet, several women who had worked with me said they were appalled that such a "sweet, nice girl" would be treated like that. Hard to tell them that I enjoyed it—or at least most of it.

Then one stylish young woman won the monthly contest and discovered that (a) I could give her amazing oral sex far longer than her boyfriend would sustain and (b) she could use me to "fluff" her boyfriend or even satisfy his desires for kinky sex including, of course, sodomy, bondage, and spanking. Twice I became the filling in a sandwich between guy and gal, orally worshipping her groin while he pounded away at the other end. Once a boyfriend had acted out some of his fantasies, he would be sufficiently relaxed and grateful to treat his girlfriend lovingly. I sometimes ended up forgotten in a cage, but that was OK—I felt like some kind of cupid or couples therapist. After that, almost everyone in the company became interested in the competition. Mistress smugly remarked that error rates on transactions had fallen, positive customer comments skyrocketed, and the head office in Dallas had commended her division's performance—without, of course, mentioning me!

Still, I was glad to have Mistress offer winners a choice between Clarice and me. As I've said, my fellow slave was drop dead gorgeous, so given that we had similar training and (OK, I'll admit it) similar prominent boobs and booty, I was surprised that I still got about half of the weekend gigs. Must have been some form of racial prejudice—I refused to believe that I would be considered as attractive as the dazzling Clarice. Anyway, eventually Mistress expanded her stable with several other sluts including an extremely smart Hispanic cutie named (inevitable stereotype, but true) Maria. Our services for VIPs and for employee morale were in constant demand. As I'll explain later, Ms. Williams finally took me out of the rotation, except for special occasions.

(To be continued)