Acceptance

“I’m sure I’ll get used to this.”

“I mean, the thought that I am owned, that somebody, a total stranger, paid money, a lot of money, for my body and that I am now his property. How can that be? I’m a person, a human being. I can’t be owned. Can I?”

Gina was pretty and innocent looking. She was sitting on the bed, freshly bathed, perfumed, made up. Ready for use. By a total stranger. A man who had borrowed her from her owner. “Borrowed me! Borrowed me! Like I was a lawnmower, or a powertool. I’m a human being, a person, not some THING to be lent out! Aren’t I?”

Gina had come into this voluntarily, if not entirely willingly. Poverty is a grim ruler! The pandemic had destroyed her family. They had been a comfortable middle-class family, her father had owned his own little business, and all the family had pitched in to help. That was all in the past. Unable to trade, her dad had gone bankrupt. A few weeks later he died, a victim of the virus. Money was scarce, work even scarcer. They all hunted for work, did odd jobs. Gina had to give up her dance classes, her great love. Then a woman, one she had sometimes seen around the studio, ‘accidentally’ bumped into her in the street. They chatted for a while, ending with the woman, Lynda, inviting her for coffee. After an hour of chat and coffee, another luxury Gina had had to give up, Lynda came to the point.

“You’re broke, aren’t you? Your family are about to be evicted, and you have nowhere to go, nowhere except the streets. Right?” Gina nodded, numbly. Lynda had just, brutally and accurately, summarised the situation. “What are you going to do? Turn tricks in the parking lot?” Gina blushed. She had actually thought about it, becoming a prostitute, but discarded the thought immediately. There had to something she could do to earn a living for her family? “I’ve watched you in class. You have a good body, girlish, innocent, the kind men will pay good money for.” Lynda smiled, “Women, too.”

Over the next hour Lynda filled in her proposal. Gina would sell herself as a slave, a sex slave. It was better than prostitution. After all, a slave was worth money, valuable, and would be looked after well so that she retained her value. She would be given training, groomed, and be sold by auction to the highest bidder. She would be a slave for twenty years. Half of her sale price would be given to her mother, the remainder, plus a percentage of any resale, would be invested in order to provide her with a pension when she was freed. Lynda named an amount that caused Gina to gape in amazement! “You’re joking! I can’t be worth that much! What would I have to do to justify a price like that?” Lynda smiled. “Obey! Simply obey!”

The man moved around the room. The man who had borrowed her. He was distinguished looking, dressed in an expensive looking suit. He had removed his jacket, hanging it carefully on a hanger. He had spoken only three words. “Good evening, Rosebud.” Rosebud! She wasn’t Gina any more. Rosebud! “What shall I call you?” Her owner had said conversationally, on that first afternoon of her slavery. “Rosebud! Yes, Rosebud. Why?” He smiled. “Because you have such a perfect rosebud. I shall use it often, in fact, I will use it almost exclusively. It is your best feature.” He had used it then, and several times since. Slave life is strange, she mused, to be named after your anus.

The man was unpacking his rather bulky briefcase. She knew the use of most of the items he was arranging fastidiously on a side table. Nipple clamps, two large buttplugs, handcuffs, a penis gag. A flogger and an evil looking singletail whip. She knew their use, of course she did, they were there to hurt her, although as yet she had not been whipped. The auctioneer had made a point of showing off her pale skin. “So pale, so soft, so sensitive, Ladies and Gentlemen, her skin will mark up beautifully under the whip!” She had not yet been whipped. Would it be as painful as those first buggerings had been? Would she get used to it? Even start to enjoy it? As she was beginning to enjoy the buggering?

The man had finished laying out his equipment. Now he undid his tie, smoothed it and folded it. His shirt was next, carefully hung up. Gina watched. He was not young, there was grey in his chest hair, but the torso was strong, well-muscled. He sat down, removing his shoes and socks, each sock placed neatly in its own shoe. He undid his belt, his fly, removed his trousers, again neatly hanging them up. His underpants were tight, she could see the outline of his cock, he was circumcised. She swallowed nervously. She was a slave. Slaves had only one deity, at least in her limited experience. Slaves served and worshipped cock! The underpants came off. His cock was half erect, slowly inflating and growing. Not huge, she noted with relief, not as big as the Master. He walked toward her.

“I want your mouth.” Gina smiled as she moved to the edge of the bed, her tongue out to taste his cock, a cock that didn’t taste of her own bowels! Her Master only used her mouth to clean him after buggering her. She started to get off the bed, to kneel at his feet. “No, I want to play with your tits, they’re beautiful.”

She took her time, using all the skill she had learned in her short career as a slave. The cock tasted so good, unsullied by her bowels. She relished the taste, the texture, the aroma of the firm shaft of flesh. She played with him, bringing him to the edge several times before he lost control and flooded her throat with his seed. She swallowed every drop.

She lay back, her thighs spread invitingly, her pussy, her slave cunt, wet and needy.

The man, would she ever know his name, kissed her, deeply, lovingly, seeming to enjoy the taste of his own cum in her mouth. He broke the kiss, smiling at her. His finger slid easily into her moist slit. He licked it clean. “Delicious!” He said, smiling, “But you know as well as I do that that hole is unavailable to me. Your Master was very clear in his instructions. “You are welcome to fuck her face and her ass. You are welcome to whip her, or hurt her in any way that pleases you. However, use of her cunt is prohibited! So is any stimulation of her clitoris. That hole is reserved for one user only.”

Tears welled in Gina’s eyes. She was so horny, so needy, so empty. Her pussy ached with need. Her master was so cruel! His orders were emphatic! She would never do that. It was disgusting, unnatural. She would never ask for that, no matter how needy her pussy was. It wasn’t fair!

The man was hardening again. Gina sighed, her eyes pleading. He shook his head. “Turn around, please,” he said softly.

She obeyed.

“I can see why you are named Rosebud,” he laughed. “Perfect, absolutely perfect.” She gave a shuddering sigh as he entered her there.

One day, one day, she would come to terms with being a slave.