The Neighbor's Prop

The first time I asked my neighbor to make me her slave she laughed. In that sexy Australian accent, she told me she was just a model, an actress. The pictures she took weren't really her... but I noticed, after that, she tended to dress a little sexier around the apartment complex. She seemed to linger a little when she saw me in the hall. Her eyes appraising on me.

One day, as I was heading to work, she stopped me. I was wearing the biking shorts and jersey that I normally wore for my morning commute, wheeling my bike out of the lobby. And her eyes on me made me very aware that the get up did nothing to hide my body.

She was dressed in a corset and little leather tie- maybe for work, maybe to fuck with me. I don't know. But I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"So you want to be my slave," she asked.

I looked around the lobby nervously, and she looked disgusted.

"Please. Do I care if people know that you're a submissive little bitch? Answer the question."

I swallowed hard, my eyes locked onto hers as if by magnets.

"Yes, I do." She smiled.

"Good. Then come upstairs with me right now."

I glanced nervously at the door. My job. And she peremptorily called my attention back with a snap of her fingers. "Now... if you really want to serve me."

And I did it. I left my bike leaning by the door, not even locked. And preceded her up the stairs as she ordered. Her heels clicked on the wood behind me, and I felt her eyes devouring me- followed, in moments, by her hands, fondling and slapping me as I went.

I was hard as a rock in my shorts, and terrified that someone would see. No one did. We made it to her apartment in peace. But I was so afraid.

She put me on the floor in her living room, made me strip. And then she walked around me, judging my body out loud. She made me extend my tongue, play with my cock to get it as hard as I could, made me lean forward so that she could inspect my asshole. Eventually, she pronounced herself satisfied.

Then, as if from nowhere she produced a belt, which she wrapped around my neck as an improvised leash and collar, and a riding crop. Then she had me kneel on the couch with my ass facing her, tightened the belt so that it practically choked me, holding me down onto the couch, and beat me until my cock softened.

When she stopped I was a sobbing, pleading mess, and she stroked my head gently as she used the belt to pull me off the couch and onto the floor. She jerked my head back to look her in the eyes from where I knelt and ordered me to shut up.

I did.

Then, smiling, she slackened her grip on the belt, sat on the couch, and spread her legs inside her skirt.

"Lick," she ordered me. So, eyes full of tears, terrified and questioning why I had ever thought this was a good idea, I crawled towards my mistress and began to lick her pussy with the desperation of a starving man.

Her hand rested possessively on my head but I slowly noticed that she wasn't paying me any attention. She was focused on something on the table next to the couch.

I kept looking but couldn't stand the thought of pulling my mouth away from her... was it a screen?

She glanced down and saw me looking, smiled wickedly.

"I think we're going viral back home."

I froze as she held up the tablet that had sat beside her. Clear on the screen was my ass, pale and hairy, kneeling before her lush form.

She was streaming this.

She smiled cruelly. "Now, don't be like that slave. You knew what I did for a living."

Her hand twisted cruelly in my hair and I started licking again. She turned the tablet around.

"The vote is split whether I use the whip or the crop to break you, but they're pretty set on having you tongue my ass after you're sobbing. But then there's no clear consensus as to whether I should take your ass or make you drink my piss."

I tried to protest at that but she twisted my ear and pulled my mouth tight to her again.

"Did you hear that fans? he REALLY doesn't want me to piss in his mouth."

I heard the tablet pinging faintly... was that... votes?

Oh god whar have I done.