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The message was a bit weird. “Hey, coming to town. Can you party with some of my friends?”

Tyler has fucked me a bunch of ways, but only when I’m passing through his city. He’s younger than me, mid-20s, a bit taller than me, dark-skinned, lean but muscular, not a huge cock but definitely the kind of tool that gets the attention of a submissive femme bottom slut like me.

What was weird about the message was how … tame it was. Before, when I’ve told him I’m coming to town, I can’t think of a message that didn’t start with “slut”.

Tyler has dominated me every session we’ve had, taking my mouth and my ass in pretty much every way he could think of. Sometimes he has me dress femme, other times he just takes me naked and smooth, his effeminate white sissyboi.

Once, after a long fuck session, he put me in the hotel bathtub and pissed on me.

In short, he’s a dominant young buck who is used to having me however he wants.

This latest message seemed less like him. He’d never come to see me in my town, but that’s how I usually play, only getting fucked when I’m traveling for work. I knew him well enough to be fine with him fucking me here, but he’d never brought along friends before.

Not that I’d mind: I have lovers in other cities who routinely have their friends and associates use me, usually while I’m bound in some creative position. But Tyler had never shown any interest in sharing me. Another mystery.

“Um, sure?” I replied.

A couple of days later I got an update, another terse WhatsApp message telling me where to meet, and asking me to show up ready to be more femme than some of our latest trysts. I was getting a bit apprehensive, and told him as much in a long message. He knew I never dressed up to go out, but always changed into femme wear at our hotel meets. I told him so.

“Just show up, okay?” was his only reply.

I showed up the next day, just after noon, at the address he’d given me, my femme clothes and a selection of toys discreetly packed in a shoulder bag. It was a quiet bar near downtown. Tyler was sitting in a small booth, nursing a drink, so I walked over and greeted him. Just like in his messages, he didn’t seem quite himself.


“Hey slut.”

Well, that was better, but still, he seemed nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting down.

“My uncle found some of our pics on my phone.”

I didn’t actually care too much about that, but clearly there was more to the story. And there was.

“He was asking me a bunch of questions, now he and his partners want to fuck you.”

None of this seemed terrible. “That’s okay, isn’t it? You know I’ve fucked lots of guys, and done a few gangbangs.”

“Yeah, it’s cool” was his reply, but I could tell he wasn’t all that happy about it. I wondered why. He’d never been jealous at all. He knew I was his slut when in his town, but beyond that he was sharing me with others, all over the world.

“Anyway, he told me to get you ready at some fancy hotel here, and then text him.”

Tyler finished his drink, which he’d obviously paid for at the bar, then took my arm gently but firmly to go. That too was more like him, but he still seemed distracted, frustrated.

The hotel was indeed more upscale than our usual haunts in his hometown. Not that we usually slummed it, but Tyler is still working to get established. His uncle, however, it turns out, is a very successful financial lawyer with a small but well-respected firm, headquartered here in my city. That was as much as I got out of Tyler on the walk over, but there was clearly more to their relationship, and I didn’t want to pry too much.

Tyler had already checked in (apparently his uncle had set up a suite for us all) so we made our way through the opulent lobby to the elevators. A few heads discreetly turned as a slim effeminate white guy walked past with a muscular young black man, but I also noted that Tyler was dressed far more smartly than usual, so aside from me in slim-fitting yoga pants and a tight shirt, we didn’t really look out of place here. If I’d been a young hot woman hanging on his arm no one would have batted an eye. It occurred to me that this wasn’t an accident: Tyler’s uncle had most likely taken his nephew out for a makeover at some high-end clothiers in the city.

The room was stunning. I do pretty well, but there’s no possible way I could ever afford to stay in a suite like this, or even at this hotel. High up in the hotel, we had walked past our own private concierge to access a suite with a large living area that included a small jacuzzi in one corner, alongside a spacious lounging couch and large-screen TV. There were giant windows looking over the city. A spacious sofa-bed was directly in front of that window, and I couldn’t help but notice it had been prepared as a bed, with a cover that didn’t look like it was from the hotel.

I also noticed, in the middle of the suite, a large area of open floor had been covered again with some kind of special raised, padded sheeting (it looked like plastic or vinyl). On that sheet had been assembled some kind of steel-piped frame, from which a series of nylon cords hung down, with steel rings at the end of them. At the other end of this luxurious suite was a bed and two lounge chairs, one of which had been pulled out in front of the bed and directly in front of the impromptu structure that I guessed I would eventually be suspended from, one way or another.

I was beginning to get a sense of why Tyler was acting a bit strangely. Clearly I was to be the center of some kind of bondage evening, and Tyler was, in essence, pimping me out.

But not quite: clearly he was not in control here, and it was bothering him. Accustomed to dominating me sexually, Tyler was now giving me up to a man (men?) to whom he was clearly deferential. Given how thoroughly Tyler had used me in all of our previous encounters, it made me nervous, but also excited, to think about what kind of man that might be, and how much he would demand of me.

“He left something on the table for you, my uncle.”

I walked over to the side table near the short entrance hall - a desk, really - where indeed there was a document of some kind, along with a pen and an envelope. The cabinet below it was a large key-coded safe. It looked like the sort of thing that would survive a nuclear blast. Most hotel safes are small affairs in the closets, that take a code or your room key. This one was keycode only. Clearly this was the kind of suite where very wealthy people stayed, and in particular very wealthy people who had things they needed to keep very, very secure.

“You’re supposed to read it and sign it if you want what’s in the envelope. That’s all he told me.”

Tyler was just standing there, by the door we’d walked in a moment before. No firm thrusting of me to my knees and making me suck his cock, which is how we usually entered hotel rooms together.

“You okay, love?” I was genuinely concerned. He looked so conflicted.

“I’m not supposed to fuck you, or even touch you, while I’m in your city.”

“Seriously!?” I replied, confused, turning my attention to the desk.

I read the short document. Two pages, describing the kinds of things I would submit to, clearly crafted by a lawyer. Bondage, complete sexual availability for the next eighteen hours. Complete submission to any and all restraining devices and practices. Acquiescence to any and all sexual and related activities, at the contractors’ discretion, while restrained.

I won’t lie: I was alarmed. I’d never even considered submitting to anyone so completely, let alone to someone, to people, I’d never even met. It seemed utterly insane.

“Tyler …”

“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy. But look in the envelope.”

I opened the envelope and read the short memo inside. At first I thought it couldn’t possibly be real. The instructions detailed what I was to do with the certified money order inside the fold of the memo I was reading.

It was for $100,000.

Insane.

What could they do to me that would be worth that vast sum of money? My head was spinning.

If I consented to this, I was to lock the money order in the safe below, using my own selected code. Once I’d done that, I was guessing that, with a safe like this, in a place like this, the only way that gets opened is with my code. Once my service was complete, I was free to use the suite for another three hours to clean up, then the money was mine. I mean, it was a certified money order, so the cash was there, in my hand. If I was walking into some freakish terrifying cult or the like, this seemed to be a terribly laborious way to proceed, and an astoundingly dumb way to find victims.

“Tyler, … do you trust your uncle? Is he a good man?”

Without hesitation: “yes.”

“He supported me and my mom through everything after my dad died, never asked for anything in return. Always been there, always has my back. Like a father to me. He’s a good guy. He’s a fucking pervert, I know that. And he’s crazy rich.”

There was another part of the instructions that I hadn’t shared with Tyler, but I guessed he knew anyway: I was supposed to share the money with him after, but I got to choose the breakdown. Was this some test to see how trustworthy I was as his nephew’s fucktoy?

I got the sense that this was the plan of a very wealthy, very kinky, very dominant man who nonetheless respected the people who served him, and who cared deeply about family.

Or maybe I was rationalizing. Either way, shaking, I signed the form, took the money order in the envelope, and locked it in the safe.

As I stood up and turned around, I saw Tyler, still standing there, texting on his phone. He waited a moment, then looked up.

“They’ll be here in an hour. They’ll be using you, one way or another, from then until early tomorrow. You can wear whatever you want, so long as it’s slutty, but there’s other stuff in a bag in the bathroom. I’m supposed to make sure you’re douched, lubed, and stretched, and on the bed when they get here.”

I could see Tyler’s cock bulging in his smart dress pants. This must be as much about his uncle disciplining him as me, I thought.

“Well love, let’s get started” I said, feigning courage.

I undressed in the spacious bathroom, folding my clothes. I’d already shaved and flushed my ass out well, as I always do for Tyler, but I went through another enema cycle using the disposable kit I found in the bathroom. Along with it was a tube of oil and lube, which was puzzling: the oil was bad for condoms …

“Tyler, are they using me bareback?”

“Um, yeah, I know my uncle definitely is” I heard from outside the bathroom door.

It occurred to me I’d just signed on for that: complete sexual availability. I hoped the unshakeable trust Tyler had in his uncle extended to his sound judgement in avoiding sexually transmitted infections. I spread the oil all over my naked body, then worked plenty of lube up and around my ass using my fingers. I noticed a butt plug among the items here for me, so I lubed that and inserted it gently, using that to further lubricate my ass, then placed it in the sink.

I had brought with me some lace thigh-highs and garter along with a flirty little sundress. I kept the leggings and garters, but opted instead for a tight and skimpy lace bustier I found among the items in the bathroom. My hair is quite long, so I opted for a lace hair-band in my own hair, rather than the wig I’d brought. There was a makeup kit as well, but I opted only for a light foundation and some powder. To finish up I wore the low-but-still-spike-heeled strap sandals I’d brought, knowing they were Tyler’s favorite.

I came out of the bathroom and Tyler was clearly frustrated: here was his submissive white femmeboi slut and he couldn’t use that beautiful cock of his at all.

“You’re supposed to have these on too” he said, handing me another small bag. Inside were a collar and wrist and ankle straps, and a few other items I couldn’t make out at a glance. I put them on, and then Tyler directed me to the bed.

“Get on your knees, in the middle, facing the window” he said. I did as I was told. The bed cover was soft but a bit crinkly. I guessed there was some kind of waterproof layer below.

I felt Tyler’s strong hands direct my wrists down to my feet as I kneeled, gazing out at the city below. I heard a soft clip as he connected the bands at my wrist with those around my ankles. I then heard him rummaging around in the small bag. I gasped softly as I felt something cold and round slip between my butt-cheeks and penetrate my well-lubricated anus. I felt something cold and hard on the small of my back as Tyler secured some kind of line to the back of my collar.

“Anal hook” he said softly. I nodded slightly, and even that motion sent quivers through my hips as the head of the hook shifted in my ass.

“Okay, now we wait. I’m supposed to sit over there, unless I have to piss or something. If you need to piss … well, you’re just supposed to go.”

I nodded again, and again the hook strained at my anus.

“Just wait there. Don’t move or talk or do anything unless my uncle says, okay? That’s really important.”

It wasn’t a long wait, but kneeling there, bare ass hooked to my collar, my wrists shackled to my ankles, I was a nervous mess. Every sense seemed heightened as I watched the afternoon sun stretch across the city below, the soft breeze from the air vents overhead caressing my smooth oiled skin.

I heard the door open. There was some laughter, rustling of clothing, a few “damn!” “fine ass” comments uttered, then a deeper voice that I thought had to be Tyler’s uncle. “You’ve done good work here, Ty” the voice rumbled.

Tyler had once told me he hated being called Ty. He made me call him “sir” or “Tyler” and said there was only one person in the world who could call him Ty. I guessed that I was about to be fucked hard by that person.

Footsteps. A pause. Breathing directly behind me. I could hear the jacuzzi being started and the TV turned on, but the breathing was still behind me. Deep, slow, then closer. I felt a heavy breath just behind my left ear, then felt a slow, firm tug on the steel hook in my ass. I gasped, then felt another hand on me, slipping around my right ear, under my jaw, and gently lifting my head up.

“So you’re my nephew’s dirty little secret.”

The voice growling in my ear, while quiet, sounded huge and slightly sinister. The hand on my neck was enormous.

The hand slipped away and the pressure on my anus was released. I felt that massive hand unclip whatever cord was clipped to the back of my collar, then slowly trace a line down between my shoulders and grazing the small of my back. He slowly slipped out the steel hook from my ass. Then I heard this giant of a man walk away. I thought about stealing a glance, maybe I even moved my head slightly as if to turn and peek around behind me, but I thought better of it and stayed in place.

“Good” I heard the deep voice say.

I was confused at first, but then I realized he was talking to me.

“Good slut.”

From the sounds behind me, and a few furtive glances at reflections in front of me, at the edge of the giant window, I knew there must be several guys in the hot tub, watching TV. It might have been sports, but I was so consumed by thoughts of what might happen next that I wasn’t thinking very clearly. I knew I had to stay still, that was all. I had to do what that giant of a man behind me told me to do. Whatever he said. Or didn’t say. I would do it.

There were a few hoots and splashes from the hot tub. A team had scored, I was guessing. I could sense Tyler’s uncle still somewhere behind me, and that was confirmed when I heard what must have been him undressing. I felt heavy depressions on the sofa-bed behind, then beside me, and then I was looking up at the enormous man who would be dominating me tonight and for several years after.

He was, quite simply, a stunning example of raw masculinity. I was looking up at him from my knees, so it’s hard to say, but he was much taller than Tyler, well over six feet. His body was impossibly firm, evidence of a successful man who schedules plenty of gym time: his chest and arms made it clear he could do whatever he wanted, physically, with my modest effeminate frame. By sunrise I’d discover he could do whatever he wanted with my mind as well.

His legs were strikingly muscled. I note that because a lot of gym guys I go down on clearly skip leg and core days. Tyler’s uncle does not. Those massive thighs led up to a rock-hard abdomen, and rising in front of that was an astoundingly hard cock. It wasn’t huge, maybe 7”, but it was at least as thick as Tyler’s, and what struck me was how perfectly proportioned it was with his body. It was also standing more erect than any cock I’d ever seen.

I felt that giant hand gently but firmly grasp me behind my neck, and I knew that I was going to have to deep-throat that cock, one way or another. I felt him turning my body around, so I shuffled on the bed with my bound wrists and ankles. I presumed it was so his crew in the hot tub could see us in profile, and sure enough I heard hooting and cheering as this giant man firmly placed my mouth on his cock and slowly began to stroke his cock with my lips.

I say he stroked his cock with my lips because he was undeniably in control. He was using my mouth for his pleasure, full stop. I was basically his fleshtoy. My eyes watered a bit as he worked those slow strokes deeper and deeper down my throat, and I tried my best to do what all good cocksuckers do: relax your jaw and neck, and try to swallow with each thrust, directing that cock away from your air-pipe. I’ve deep-throated cocks this long before, even longer, but the thickness made it challenging, where each swallow of that rod still tickled my gag reflex.

Eventually he’d worked his whole cock in my throat, and I could feel his heavy testicles resting on my chin. I tried so hard to stay calm and relaxed, but after a few seconds I realized he wasn’t pulling out. My eyes began to water more, my throat seized up around his member, and I could feel my body involuntarily begin to tremble and squirm, but that massive hand held me firmly in place. I could have sworn his cock got a bit harder when he felt my body tremble as I whimpered before him.

We made eye contact.

“My name is Cyrus, but you’ll never use that name. You’ll call me sir, or master. Understood?”

I nodded as best could, although that pushed his cock slightly deeper into me, and the convulsions grew stronger. Again I thought I felt his cock harden slightly.

“I know my nephew has you calling him things like that, which is fine, but not when I’m with you. I am unquestioningly your master. Do you understand?”

It had only been, maybe, twenty or thirty seconds? I can hold my breath for minutes, but my body was shaking and struggling. I was feeling dizzy and a bit panicked, but that massive hand kept me in place.

“We good with that, Ty?”

“Yeah, good.” Came a grudging reply from the chair across the suite.

I heard his giant uncle chuckle at that, as he slowly pulled my desperately quivering body off of his engorged cock. I drew in air violently, gasping and coughing on residual saliva as he pulled out of my throat. My body was limp and heaving, but he held me up for a moment with that strong grasp on my neck, then casually tossed me aside onto the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, maybe harder than you’ve ever been fucked. At some point this evening, I will push you past any and all limits. You signed the waiver, so there’s nothing you can do about that now.”

As he was saying this he was also lifting my hips and pulling my glistening pale body around on the bed, again so everyone in the jacuzzi could get a clear view of me, face down, wrists bound to my ankles, and my pale quivering ass high up in the air. I could feel Cyrus’s massive bulk between my legs, spreading me wide to his satisfaction. From my vantage I could make out Tyler in his chair, watching, his hands looking restless on the arm rests as he watched his little white femmeboi being taken by his dominant giant of an uncle.

“You signed away your dignity for this evening, slut. For money. A lot of money. There are no safe-words. No signals. No way out. But I know you don’t need them, because you won’t say anything unless you’re told to, by me, correct?”

Even in this dazed state I knew enough to stay quiet. That might be a question, which invites an answer. Or it might be a test. I felt the tip of his cock exploring my well-lubricated anus.

“Good slut,” he said again, as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside me. I felt the glimmering of what would become a desperate longing to please him, to hear those words, to be his good femmeboi slut.

I gasped and whimpered as he began to push inside of me. He was so thick!

“Now you can answer my question, slut: you will not speak until I tell you, yes? Answer me.”

“Yes sir” I whimpered.

“No matter what I do to you, no matter what I let my crew here do, you will do what we want. You may answer, slut.”

“Yes master,” I replied, in almost a whisper.

I was terrified, but also inexplicably aroused. My small cock doesn’t usually get hard when I’m getting fucked by real men, but I could feel it flick to attention. It was as if he could read my mind. He reached below me, stroking my tiny cock with his huge fingers. Then, laughing, he grasped my balls firmly. I let out a gasp and my body shuddered.

With a low, guttural, primal growl, Cyrus slowly but unrelentingly forced his cock deeper and deeper into me, releasing my balls and then holding my hips as he impaled me. I was whimpering as he began to pull out, then he began fucking my ass in earnest. In, out, hands pulling me on, then off his rock-hard member. This was a real a man as I had ever been fucked by, and while knowingly fucking another man, his dominance made clear that he was methodically fucking the masculinity out of me.

When I’m not hooking up with dominant guys, I live as a straight, reasonably attractive, reasonably successful corporate consultant. I am charming at receptions, and I impress a certain style of mature, successful woman, with whom I make love gently and attentively. I’ve occasionally played with couples. But as I felt my ass strain to accommodate the merciless pounding I was receiving on that bed, as other hard-bodied men watched on, I realized that, with Cyrus, I was anything but a man. I wasn’t even close. I certainly wasn't a woman. I was simply his plaything.

Then, suddenly, he was out of me.

I gasped at the feeling of emptiness as he withdrew, and I felt the cool air from the vents tickle my gaping hole for a moment before it closed tight again, quivering from the recent violation.

I could feel hands on my ankles, then one click, and another, as my wrists were freed. A hand on my throat pulled me upright. I then felt his vast muscular chest against my back as he reached in front of me, his hot breath on my sweat-drenched neck. He released his hand but I stayed pressed back against him as he wrapped my arms in front of me, grasping my wrists. I heard the restraints click together again. This time my wrists were bound. Then, a firm hand on my back, forcing me onto all fours, balanced delicately on my shackled wrists.

I wouldn’t have to wait long in that position. While Cyrus had me on all fours, he matter-of-factly slid his cock back inside me, then pushed me face down, forcing my arms out in front of my head.

I could feel him grinding inside me as the full weight of this enormous man bore down on me, crushing me into the bed. It was hard to breathe with all of that weight on me, and it didn’t help that, as he locked his legs around mine, forcing them wide and grind-fucking me into the crinkling sheet, he slipped his massively muscled arm around my neck, tightening with each thrust into me.

We must have been a sight: this giant Black paragon of masculinity dominating my slight pale frame, forcing my legs apart as his beautiful buttocks methodically drove his cock into me underneath. I was letting out small girlish cries and I felt my vision blurring. I imagine I was struggling, writhing under this mass of muscle, but it would have looked more erotic than desperate (later I’d know exactly what it looked like, as my new local master would make me watch video from this first encounter as he used me to entertain clients).

At one point, me gasping for breath, the onslaught stopped. I felt him deep inside me, my head pulled back and nestled in his massive python-like arm, as his other hand grasped my hair firmly.

“This is what I wanted you to see, Ty.”

He was holding my head up to look at Tyler across the room. He looked genuinely concerned.

Cyrus continued. “I want you to see what’s involved in real domination, Ty. To take a submissive and push them beyond reason, beyond instinct, and show them you are completely, totally, unquestionably in control of them.”

As he said this I could feel his arm slowly tightening. I was looking straight at Tyler, with what he would later tell me was a mix of fear and wanton lust.

“Stop it man, you’re going to --”

I could see Tyler start to get up, only to drop back down as his uncle boomed:

“Sit DOWN, Ty”.

“You need to see this, to understand what it is to break a truly submissive boislut. To take an attractive, successful man and turn him into a wanton effeminate whore who will do anything for you. You have to ask yourself if you have the strength, resources, and the will to do that.”

Tyler still looked shell-shocked, either at seeing his slut being treated like this, or from the realization of how quickly and instinctively he responded to his uncle’s order to sit.

I was still writhing, my bound wrists flapping helplessly in front of me, but what I really noticed was how hard Cyrus was. I’ve sucked a lot of cocks, and been fucked by plenty of hard guys, some of them rock hard, but almost always, if a guy stops fucking or if I stop sucking, they eventually soften. A few of my men have gone completely limp after just a few seconds without stroking.

I’ve never had a guy who just stayed hard, even got harder, just sitting there, inside me.

That’s what I was feeling here. The more I whimpered and gasped and convulsed, the tighter his hold on me and the harder his cock inside me. Then, when it seemed he couldn't possibly be harder or have dominated my slender body any more, his cock pulsed as he came deep in my ass. About the same time I felt a warmth underneath me as I came too.

Lying there, face down, quivering and limp in mine and Cyrus's wet warmth, I felt his giant hands pull my limbs, one by one, out toward the corners of the bed, and secure my shackles to some kind of cable or strap. Now I was spread-eagled, still face down, with my wrists and ankles secured. I felt Cyrus lift me up by the hair and position some kind of small pillow under my neck and chin, and I could then feel him making a similar arrangement underneath my hips.

Some splashing, rustling, laughing, and then there were muscular black men all around me, but no obvious sign of Cyrus. Through the buff studs in front of me I could sometimes make out Tyler, still sitting, still watching, still looking frustrated.

These men began taking turns on my throat and my ass.

The first two guys came pretty quickly, but the next two took their time, switching back and forth from my throat to my ass, before finally cumming, almost in unison.

I had swallowed most of the cum deposited in my mouth, but a dribble remained along my cheek, and I could feel warm cum oozing out of my ass. I was woozy and exhausted as I felt the straps holding me loosen, and my restraints being unbuckled. Four pairs of hands were all over me, rolling and lifting where needed to remove my heels, garter, and tights, and then my bustier. I was completely naked, save for my collar, but soon my restraints were buckled back in place, and I was put in a kneeling position. I felt the now-familiar click of my restraints being linked, again with my wrists bound to my ankles, but now a belt of some sort was also being added. I was lifted up and carried over to the frame in the middle of the suite, and I was clipped into a series of straps and hung at waist height. I hung there, naked and glistening, my head pulled back for easy access to my mouth, and my legs pulled apart, ready for the convenience of men.

I noticed there were more guys here now. A mix of ethnicities, some in suits, others naked. There was food, and what looked to be wine and beer. Periodically someone (usually one of the naked guys), would notice me, walk over, slip on a condom, lube it up, and prod his way into my ass. Once while this was happening, another gentleman, in what looked to be an expensive well-tailored suit, came over, slipped his cock out of his pants, again put on a condom, and proceeded to fuck my mouth.

There were at least three such spit roast sessions, a few assfuck-only guys, and most of the guys came quickly, as if this was just a quick release from more important social activities. And they all wore condoms. I suppose I was simply a bit of sexual amusement for some kind of elite party, but only Cyrus and his core crew were fucking me bareback. I felt some relief at that.

I was groggy and confused most of this time. When I needed to pee I’d just let go, which some of the guys saw and laughed at. It was dark when the party ended. I was untied by the four original hot tub guys, and they walked me past Tyler, still in his seat, and tossed me unceremoniously on the bed.

I was asleep in moments.

I awoke hours later, as the sunrise reflected off distant buildings and into the suite. An alarm was ringing at the bedside. I reached over and turned it off. I looked around. I was still naked, but my collar and restraints were gone. The suspension frame in the center of the room was also gone, as where the specialized sheets and covers. The giant bed in front of the window was once again a sofa. Tyler was gone from his chair too.

Standing before the bed, naked and impossibly hard, was Cyrus, stroking his glistening, well-lubricated cock.

Without a word I turned over, raised my ass, spread my legs, and presented myself, completely naked, for Cyrus to use. My new master mounted me and fucked me deep and hard. My legs were quivering at the unrelenting assault, but I kept my ass up for him, pushing back on him with each powerful thrust.

Finally, as the muscles in my hips and legs began to give out, I felt his cock throb, pumping his cum deep into me for what felt like minutes. As he pulled out, I relaxed my hips but maintained my position of utter and complete availability.

“Cum for me, slut” he growled. “In your hand.”

Without moving from my submissive position, I reached down and began to stroke my floppy little cock to was passed for hardness, although compared to Cyrus it seemed flaccid and comically slender. It was shocking how quickly I came, catching most of it in my other hand.

“Eat it, slut.”

Again, keeping my ass up toward Cyrus, I used my one arm to steady myself, lifting my chest and head enough to get my other hand in front of me to lap up my own cum.

Behind me I heard some clicking and fiddling with what I now know were a set of high-quality digital recorders. Then I heard the sounds of my master getting dressed.

“Good slut.”

Footsteps, the click of the door, and I was alone.

Someone had thoughtfully left some towels on the bed with me, so I propped one under my ridiculously well-used ass as Cyrus’s cum continued to leak out of me. As the sky lightened, I pondered my situation.

Assuming Cyrus was good to his word, I was now $100,000 richer, although I planned to split that with Tyler, which I suppose does make him my pimp of sorts. It remained to be seen how our relationship would emerge out of this bizarre night of extremes.

When the stream of cum from my ass seemed to let up, I stumbled to the shower, cleaned up, and dressed, noticing that everything but my clothes and personal effects had been cleared out. My bag was there, on the counter, the various items inside, and my clothes were neatly folded on a shelf above the toilet, where I’d left them. Out in the suite, the coffee machine had been filled and was simply waiting for me to press “brew”. I could get used to this.

As it turned out, I would.

I looked over the suite where I had just been pushed to, and past, the limits of submission. I was a jumble of feelings, but most of all, lust, and a desire to be taken again by Cyrus, to please him unconditionally and be used however he wished.

I walked to the safe. The moment of truth. There was no evidence on the desk of the contract I’d signed, but my phone had been put there, plugged into a charger. When I keyed open the safe, there was the envelope and, in it, the certified money order.

I looked at my phone. Tyler had messaged a bunch of times, asking me to text or call him. I texted him a simple message: “50/50” then put the phone away, folded the envelope into my pocket, walked confidently out of the suite, past the concierge, and into the waiting elevator.