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Porn For Me: Valuable

September 1, 2010

I wrote this when I was reading An Uncommon Whore, and I wanted to play around with the memoir-esque resigned matter-of-factness of a sex slave demonstrated by the main character. I had to really fight the urge to edit this one, because it is so utterly trope-ish, unrealistic, and descriptively redundant. It was my cunt talking, I’m (almost) sorry to say. Cross-posted at HTPorn. Oh god, I may die of embarrassment.

~~~

I was, of course, the most valuable thing there. I took little pleasure from it, only a sort of grim amusement.

Nor was I precisely sure why I was so valuable. But the bids kept getting higher.

The highest bidder enjoyed me very thoroughly over the next year and a half on that planet. He was not so bad as it could have been. I was lonely, and weary of being used, but I was never particularly abused. I did not object and obeyed instructions because I knew the consequences of disobeying. I didn’t really remember those consequences, but I knew that being used as a hole to come in three times a day was a better fate.

He was profoundly pissed when he lost me in a game of droughts. My naked back was the game table and one of the other players was close to coming in my mouth, so all I could really think as I frantically tried to determine who had won was, “Shit.”

My owner had lent me to her the day before as one of the other amenities of his grand gala. I had never been in the hands of a sadist before. I had been used roughly and callously, abused for circumstances and events out of my control, and ruthlessly trained, but I had never been given to someone who enjoyed pain for pain’s sake.

If it was torture, it was a very curious mode of torture, though I was only partly able to appreciate it at the time, my wrists strung up above me, trying to process the intense sensations she enjoyed inflicting on my body.

She never took me beyond my threshold for pain. After the first half hour I knew that had she wanted to, she could have turned me into a sticky smear of mindless gibbering. And I knew she could have done it without maiming me. And I suspected, half-feverishly, that had she exerted some effort, she could have done it without leaving a mark.

Every time I was ready to burst into tears if I had to bear another moment of it or take another blow, she stopped or removed whatever was the current source of pain. She would watch me, gasping, struggling to recollect myself, half a smile on her face.

She did make me bleed, though never in accident. Very deliberately, with a wicked little knife with an edge like paper. Every cut stung madly, and hazily watching the blood trickle down my chest was mesmerizing.

She untied me completely to take my ass, leaving coils embossed on my arms and ankles, and even had I been inclined to fight, I don’t think I could have.

Even while she slid her fingers into me it was becoming clear that she was devastatingly good at this. My penis, so far uninvolved except as the occasional recipient of blows, vicious pinching, and to my near panic, fire, began to swell painfully against the confines of the chastity ring.

She had me on my back, knees, spread, and she laughed softly as she saw. Moving up to prop herself above my hips, she leaned down and took the head of my cock gently in her lips. I flinched, groaning, and my balls tightened painfully against the ring constricting them.

“Please,” I gasped as she licked down my shaft, making my partial erection harder and more painful. “Not with the chastity on.”

She smiled at me, and gave me a blow job that would have sent me to ecstasy if I hadn’t been in the ring. I did cry then, desperately trying to endure as she licked and sucked my most sensitive places, the chastity ring biting deep into my flesh.

I watched, breathing hard, as she pushed one end of a dildo into herself, and strapped the other end in place. I lifted my legs up to give her better access, because it was simply easier, and less uncomfortable.

Arrowing her cock into my anus, she eased herself in, retreating when I bit my lip, little progressions and retreats until she was all the way in my body. She held my thighs, looking down at me almost with amusement. Maybe I imagined it. I was exhausted.

She fucked my ass like it was her sole purpose to pleasure me. She found the right angle and she kept it, taking me exactly as deep and hard as I liked it. Loved it. I gasped, bucking against her, moaning in pleasure and torment.

My pleasure, of course, brought my pain, my cock and testicles madly straining against metal. The chastity ring also meant there was absolutely no chance I would come. And I wanted to come. Badly. My owner milked the semen from me occasionally when the look in my eyes grew “a little too crazed.” He would remove the chastity ring and take my ass until I was dripping. I hardly ever stayed hard when he fucked me. Once he had hooked me up to a fucking machine, the wickedly curved phallus almost two inches in diameter, and watched as the hydraulic piston punched it into me at the same bruising angle for over an hour and I was a weeping mess. I hadn’t come in nearly a year, and that had been an accident, quickly ruined lest I enjoy it.

She had the remote to remove the ring. I could see it on the table beside the bed. I moaned, gripping the sheets, and whined in denial when she pulled out. My half-flaccid penis bobbed weakly.

Sweating, trembling a little, I stared up at her uncomprehendingly when she straddled me, her cock gone. Holding my cock straight between two fingers, she rubbed it between her wet lips. I nearly bit through my lip.

“No,” I moaned. “Not like this. I can fuck you with a strap-on if you don’t want me to be pleasured, or–” My breath hitched, and my head and shoulders lurched up in misery as she carefully sank around me with a smile. She began to fuck my half-hard, excruciatingly sensitive cock, pounding blood trapped behind the ring. I groaned and whimpered, wanting to fill her, feel her stretched around my cock. I wanted to explode, in misery, orgasm, something, anything.

I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to come so badly. I wanted to fuck her ’til she came then come deep inside her.

When she told me to fuck her, though, I nearly cried again.

She lifted herself up, and in mindless terror-need-pain-lust I bucked my hips, moving up and into her, again and again. She pressed herself against me, taking my sore nipple in her mouth, and bit me so hard I barely restrained myself from knocking her off. She never let go as I desperately fucked her, wrapping my arms around her back, until she came, jamming her cunt around me and convulsing against my poor, bruised genitals until I cried out.

She returned me to my owner, who had a very expensive drink in one hand, with a light comment about my satisfactory performance. He was amused by my small wounds.

I serviced a group of his business associates next, taking them two at a time, one in my mouth, one in my ass, my cock still straining, weeping pre-cum. They, the silly gits, though it was because of them. I was angry for a while, before the monotony overwhelmed me.

So when I realized, as the drought player came salty and bitter on my tongue, exactly who had won me, I thought, “Shit. Shit.”

2 Comments leave one →
  1. ranat permalink*
    September 2, 2010 1:05 pm

    Heh. I saw that one yesterday going through there.

    *hug*

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