Dominatrix Slaver’s Gay Client
“Help! Anybody, help!”
Where is he? Who did this to him? What is going on?
Chad remembers meeting a woman he met online. And waking in chains. Nothing between.
Footsteps. Someone is near.
“Please help me!”
A woman enters the room. Fear prevents Chad from noticing either her beauty or nakedness. He stares up at her.
She punches his mouth.
“Let me go.”
She bashes him again.
“I said shut up, you stupid shit.”
She kicks his testicles. He screams but says nothing.
“Your first lesson: do as you are told, slave.”
His eyes react to the last word. His lips part but he does not speak.
“Yes, slave. Forget the nice life you have. It ended. You don’t even have a name.”
He cannot breathe. His heart pounds. Is he having a heart attack? It is only the terror of a helpless man at the mercy of a pitiless woman.
“Feel free to beg.”
She lashes his chest and belly.
He begs. And grovels and pleads and whimpers. His body grows damp with sweat, tears and blood.
He tries to convince himself he is having a nightmare.
The whips stinging blows cannot be imaginary. He is a prisoner. A woman tortures him. Why? He is not a slave. Slavery does not exist in the twenty-first century.
The whipping ends. Fear and pain exhaust him. His mind dims.
Suddenly, he notices someone watchinng from a dark corner. A big man. Their eyes meet.
The man moves from the darkness. Turns to the dominatrix.
“I enjoyed that. Thank you for your restraint. Only my whip will cut and mark his body.”
“You’re my most appreciative customer. That is why I sell you slaves. My other clients are women.”
“I pay you well.”
“Agreed. And admire how much suffering you inflict. You’ll enjoy many good dungeon sessions with this white-collar wimp.”
The powerful man turns to the prisoner.
“You are mine now, boy. Address me as Master.”
“And always kneel in my presence. Slaves live in hands and knees.”
The helpless man looks closely at his new Master. The latter is strong. His expression stern, contemptuous. His penis thick.
“Wait ’til you see it erect. Your holes are mine. They will stretch, strain and ache.”
Master grabs his slave’s hair, yanks. He growls.
“You will serve me unhesitatingly. Obey me instantly. If you fail, I will punish you.
“You have three purposes: houseboy, sex slave and pain toy. Your misery is my joy.”
Opening a canvas sack Master brings out heavy chains and thick shackles. Then a leather hood.
He drags the bound slave to a door, pulls him over cobblestones. Tosses him into a van and drives away.
Mistress wonder how long before he calls wanting a new slave. No Master is rougher with his toys.