The Diamond Prince - Ch. 04

He was allowed less than a minute to catch his breath before the man began speaking. "That was quite a performance earlier, you really handled that girl like a man. You looked like a man and fucked like a man. Even when we started, you held yourself like a man." He grabbed him by the throat and forced him to his feet. He squeezed, and then used his other hand to grab Declan's balls. With his airway cut off, only an undignified squeak escaped. The man smirked. "It's my job to remind you, that you are not a man. You are a bitch. A slut. A pathetic whore pig, worth less than the cum you wallow in." He shoved him forcefully on the bed, and Declan gasped and choked again, sucking in air. "Get on your hands and knees, whore." The man shouted as he took off his own pants.

Declan did as commanded. A sharp slap to his ass made him jump and yelp, earning him a harder slap. He stilled, attempting to stay composed, though his body shook. His ass was kneaded roughly, and his balls fondled again. He was spanked several more times before he felt fingers once again pressing into him. He thanked the gods that it felt like he'd decided to use lube. He hissed at the stretch of two fingers pushing deep inside him. It hurt, but nothing like what was about to happen, he was sure of it.

The fingers in him twisted and scissored, and his arms shook -- he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold himself up. "Tell me you love it, slut." Declan swallowed and hesitated longer than he meant to. He received a sharp slap.

"I love it, sir, thank you." He said immediately.

"Beg me to fuck you like the slut you are."

"Please fuck me sir. I'm a slut and I need it. Please." Declan said, his mind starting to slip into another state of consciousness, slave space. Everything got fuzzy around the edges, he felt his connection shut down and the pain subsided slightly, as did his humiliation.

With that, the man behind him lined up his cock, and pushed. Declan choked back a sob, his arms giving out. He buried his face in the blankets below him and tried to breathe. Breathe, Obey. His mind began to chant internally. He felt so impossibly full, like his guts could explode at the lightest touch. The man gripped his hips bruising tight, and fucked. There was no easing, and nothing gentle about it. His back was arched painfully, and his fingers clawed at the blankets. Tears streamed down his face once again.

More slaps and spanks, continuous fucking, name calling, fucking. "Please, please, please..." he began to chant in a hoarse voice. He's sure some might mistake his pleas for pleasure, asking for more. But he was willing to bet that the man behind him knew exactly what they were, a beg for mercy. He went harder yet, slamming into him with incredible force, and Declan once again lost his voice.

All of a sudden, he found himself flipped onto his back, and unable to hide his face. He tried to put his arms over himself, but his captor grabbed his thin wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head. "oh, no, no, no; let's see those pretty tears." He said sadistically, licking a stripe up the smaller man's face. "You're never going to forget where you belong after this." He said with a wicked grin. He slammed himself back in, and Declan let out a cry. "That's it bitch, scream for me." He said, restarting his relentless pace.

At this new angle, Declan could feel his prostate getting pounded with every stroke, but it didn't feel like pleasure, just relentless pressure, and his cock remained soft. His captor let go of his wrists, and Declan left them where they were, the message was clear. The man instead grabbed Declan's balls and cock in his fist and squeezed. Declan screamed, his sore throat finding new life as he squirmed and pleaded.

"Please Sir please, please... please..." new tears rolled down his face and his head thrashed side to side, and the man didn't let up. He squeezed in time with his thrusts and the boy couldn't help the continuous stream of whines and cries and screams that came out of him. Eventually he felt a heavy dribble from his cock as his prostate was violently milked, and it gave no relief. Finally, his tormentor came inside him, and pulling out, put his pants back on, grabbed him by the hair one more time.

"What do whores say after they get fucked?" he asked menacingly.

"...th...thank you, Sir." He said weakly.

The room was a flurry of activity as people mingled and chatted and placed orders and made reservations. Eventually the room started to slowly empty as the bar opened. Declan lay curled into a ball on the bed, long forgotten. He sobbed silently. Soon the only noise was the cluttered din of the bar life outside the room. He felt a hand on his side, and he flinched. "Declan?" a soft feminine voice said.

"...Ava." He replied, voice hoarse. She shuffled around him into his line of sight, worry etched on her face.

He couldn't bring himself to conjure a smile. She went and started digging through the stack of pillows, and found one with a plain cotton case. She pulled it off, and used it to gently wipe the tears and snot from his face. She didn't say anything, as she knew there was nothing she could say. But he had taken care of her before, and she could try to do the same for him now. She wiped away as much of the remnants of the night activities as she could, using a discarded glass of champagne to wet the cloth and get some of the more dried bits. she then laid down and snuggled into him, bringing his head to her chest and holding him. She pulled the giant comforter over them and laid petting him until he fell asleep.

After being treated and cleared for any injuries, Declan got the rest of the week off to recover. Largely bed rest for the first few days but afterwards he was allowed to exercise lightly and move around the back rooms. Ava visited him every chance she got, but it wasn't often as she'd caught the attention of some clients and they were working extra hard to get her training finished, and she was finally improving.

Over the course of the next year, Declan became a favorite among clients. Some of the encounters went like the latter of his first two experiences, but many more went the way of the first. Many clients were just looking for a good lay and were happy to let him take the reins and pleasure them at his leisure. He had a few regulars who would rent him just for an hour or less, to fuck his face -- and he was so used to it now, it didn't bother him. At least he didn't have to do any work.

Sometimes he would end up doing household chores or yardwork, and honestly, he found it a nice change of pace. He would just be left alone with a list of things to do. He had several female clients who would rent him for weekends to take with them on a trip or keep them company while they were doing work, and he enjoyed that. They would dote on him and buy him treats and play dress up with him, showing him off to their colleagues. He got to learn about different businesses and meet new people, and of course, make love to some lovely women.

There were some rough patches, however. One particular man would rent him for the weekend and have him be the cum dump for all his old college buddies. He would often spend the entire weekend tied up and covered in cum, and they enjoyed humiliating him, having him lick their feet or the ground they walked on, watch him squirm trying to hold his urine as long as he could, and if he couldn't, making him lick it up. The staff always hated when he came back from those weekends, he was a mess to clean up, smelled awful, and was often dehydrated. They were always charged extra for the dehydration and had several warnings, but it happened every time none the less.

And then, there was the sadist. He had a continual rotation, never without a rental in his hands. It was speculated that he never just bought his own slave (which would surely have been cheaper long term) because he loved the thrill of new reactions and seeing the fear each time a slave knows they've been chosen. If he had the same slave all the time, perhaps they would grow jaded to his ministrations. He was a master of his craft, a complete expert. He would rent each slave for three to five days and have them suspended in agony nearly the entire time. He only stopped his torture to comply with health and safety guidelines, such as, six hours of sleep for every twenty four awake, calorie and water intake. He always complied to the letter with guidelines, and never left any permanent damage. There was some debate about the psychological impact, but not enough evidence to support charges or a ban.

Overall, Declan couldn't complain about his life. He was safe, cared for (even if in a very clinical way) and had a friend. Though being a rental wasn't ideal, it could have been much worse. Time ticked on, and he and Ava's bond only grew. Many clients enjoyed renting them as a pair, as they could put on an amazing show, worked very well together on tasks, and their passion was so very real. But slowly, as time passed and new slaves were brought in, Ava and Declan became less requested -- the novelty had worn off.

By their third year, they were to be sold. Declan begged on his knees that they be sold as a pair, possibly the only thing he had ever done that went against his training as a slave. Good slaves didn't make requests. But it must have tugged at Dr. Forest's heart strings, because She made a statement to management about how "they came in together, they've barely been apart since, and have bonded, and it may be a psychological disservice to separate them. I may have to report this if you do." Everyone knew Her threats were a stretch, but apparently, they weren't willing to take the risk. And so, they were put up for auction as a pair, much to the irritation of the auctioneer. Pairs were tougher to sell, especially since they were not an aesthetically matching set.