My car pulled up outside a brownstone that was clearly expensive, but otherwise unremarkable. My driver, Vincent, opened the door. I exited and glanced at my watch. “I expect this to take at least an hour, quite possibly longer. I’ll call when I need you back.”
Vincent nodded but didn’t make eye contact. “Yes, sir.” He was a good slave, but remarkably unimaginative. He was good at following rules, but managed to convey the impression of being a robot. My father used to say that was the mark of a good slave, that they had no glimmer of personality, but I disagree.
At the top of the steps there was an intercom, but nothing to identify the resident, or in this case business, based there. I buzzed the buzzer.
A moment later a man’s voice greeted me. “I have an appointment with Sabine,” I said. “Benjamin Cresswell.”
A moment later the door clicked open and I entered. A young man in his late 20s dressed in a simple business suit greeted me. From the way he avoided eye contact, I knew he was a slave.
A smartly-dressed woman in her early forties appeared down the hallway and greeted me. “Mr. Cresswell, how nice to meet you. I’m Sabine.” She led me into a tastefully decorated living room; the walls and much of the furniture were a business-like white. “Can Daniel fetch you something to drink?”
“Scotch, “ I said, not bothering to look at Daniel. He silently departed and returned a minute later with my drink, setting it down on the coffee table. He retreated to a desk in the corner, obviously awaiting Sabine’s instructions.
Sabine motioned for me to sit down. After I choose a seat, she sat across the coffee table from me and picked up a tablet on which she began taking notes.
“Now tell me why you came to us. Mr. Cresswell.”
I sighed. “I’m a fairly busy man. My work keeps me occupied much of the time, and so I find it hard to find someone to share my life with. So naturally, I’ve used my domestic slaves when I felt the need. But I find it all very unsatisfying.” Sabine nodded as I said this. “They’re generally compliant, but often just lie there and wait for me to be finished.” This was exactly the way Vincent was whenever I used him.
“They have no personality or spark, “Sabine commented.
“Exactly. I want someone who is bringing something to the party beyond his body. So I’ve been shopping around at the various slave markets, with little success. But the last two I visited both mentioned that you might have what I’m looking for.”
She nodded again. “Yes, I think I can help you. My stock is smaller than most of the other dealers, but very carefully chosen. Of course, that means that my prices are considerably higher.”
“Yes, I was advised about that. I don’t think that will be an issue, especially not if I find a slave I can have as a personal companion.”
Sabine proceeded to ask me a number of questions about exactly what I was looking for in an ideal slave. Eventually, she spent a moment looking at her tablet, then turned to the slave in the corner. “Daniel, bring me numbers 6, 11, and 27.” Daniel nodded and slipped silently out of the room and up the stairway.
“The ones I’m going to show you are all products of the Shadow Academy, which in my opinion trains the finest slaves anywhere. I’ve never had a customer complain about the quality of training of their purchases. All of them are subject to psychological conditioning as well as training. Once you make a choice, I’ll give you a code phrase that will activate the slave’s Loyalty Oath. Reciting that oath will trigger his bonding process, and he will gradually become completely dedicated to you, virtually incapable of disobedience unless you want that in a slave. That does, of course, mean that these slaves cannot be returned once you’ve triggered their Loyalty Oath. So we’ll want to make sure you’re certain about your choice.”
Several minutes later, Daniel returned leading three men who filed into the living room and stood in beautifully-executed Waiting Rest poses, legs at shoulder width, arms folded behind them, and heads up and looking forward, with no expressions. My cock throbbed; there’s always been something about that pose that I find intensely arousing.
The first man looked to be in a mid to late 20s. He was tall and lean and nicely muscled, with short blond hair and blue eyes. He was naked except for a pair of red briefs that demonstrated that he had a substantial endowment. Sabine consulted her tablet for a moment.
“Kyle is an excellent specimen, extremely active physically and good with his hands. He worked construction for several years before falling into debt and being acquired by his credit card company. He’s had three years of training at the Academy. He has a very high pain tolerance; I particularly recommend him if you enjoy hurting your slaves. He has a preference for women but is fully trained to serve men.”
I nodded. “I certainly do enjoy using pain, but I think I want someone more fully oriented toward men,” I said. I pictured him resisting and crying out as I penetrated him; it was a nice image, but I knew it wasn’t something I wanted all the time.
“It’s good to see a client who has a clear sense of what he wants. So many problems arise when the buyer hasn’t taken the time to find the right slave. This second boy, Gavin, spent more than a decade in the military. He’s got a number of talents you don’t commonly find in slaves, including the ability to serve as a bodyguard. He speaks Arabic. And, as you say, he’s oriented toward men.”
Gavin was a powerfully-built man, about my height. He had prominent pecs and large biceps and thighs. His chest was covered with ample body hair, and despite his blank expression, he conveyed a sense of paying close attention to everything around him. He was a good-looking man, but he had an ugly scar down near his right hip. I ran my hand across his pecs for a few moments. He didn’t react.
“Boy, you went from the military to slavery. That’s unusual. Explain.”
“Sir, several years ago, I served in Egypt, during the riots there. I took a bullet and landed in the hospital for several weeks, sir. That gave me a lot of time to reflect on what I really wanted, Sir. I realized that I wanted to continue living in service, but to a man I could dedicate my life to, Sir.”
I moved over to the third man. He was the youngest; he looked to be in his early twenties, perhaps 24 at the oldest. He had dark black hair, blue eyes and coppery-brown skin with warm undertones. He was nicely muscled, though not as muscular as Gavin. He was about 5’10, and so slightly shorter than me, which I found pleasing. He was clad in just a white pair of boxer briefs. There was something quite magnetic about him; he was boyishly handsome and although his expression was neutral, he seemed eager somehow.
“Oscar here has been in training since he was quite young. Because of that, his personality is less fixed and he will bond more tightly to you once you activate his Loyalty Oath. His conditioning will start to shape his needs to yours. In that sense, he’s ideal for what you’re seeking. He also has a degree in literature and is fluent in three languages, so he will make an excellent companion. He’s from Brazil.”
I lingered in front of him for several moments. Sabine said, “I think you’re interested in him.” She turned to the other two. “Go back to your rooms.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” they said, and silently departed.
I walked around Oscar, admiring his body, but somehow being a little reluctant to actually touch him. My cock was stirring in my pants, and not touching him was making my desire more intense. I wanted to savor that.
“He’s a good choice, Mr. Cresswell. Of the three I showed you, he’s my personal favorite. He’s eager to please and has enormous potential. If you want someone who can accompany you to social functions as well as serve your bodily needs, he’s the best I can offer. He’s also correspondingly more expensive; the fluid personality is highly sought after.”
“Has he had a master before?”
“No. He’s had trainers at the Academy, but that’s all. Would you like to spend some time alone with him? Test him out? I always recommend that, to make sure he’s the one you truly want. Just make sure not to leave any permanent marks on him.” I agreed. “Oscar, take Mr. Cresswell upstairs to the first bedroom.”
He led me upstairs, which gave me a nice view of the roundness of his ass. He opened a door and then stood back to allow me to enter first. It was a surprisingly spacious bedroom, with a large four-poster bed and rather elegant furnishings. There was also a St. Andrew’s cross on the wall, and a rack of items that could be used for bondage and torture. He entered, closed the door, and then stood in the center of the room in Waiting Rest.
I walked around him. “How long have you been in training, boy?”
“My mother sold me when I was ten, so 13 years, Sir.”
“And you’ve been in training at the Shadow Academy ever since?”
“Yes, sir, until Lady Sabine acquired me about three months ago, Sir.”
I ran my hand over his ass. I already knew that I wanted to fuck this boy. The question was, did I want him as a permanent slave? I didn’t want to let my dick do all the thinking.
“I’m surprised the Academy held onto you so long. Most younger slaves go on the market when they’re 17 or 18.”
“Yes, Sir, but my trainers decided that I had more elite potential, Sir. So when they sold off the rest of my cohort, I was one of two they kept for deeper training, Sir. That’s why they sent me to a university, Sir.” There was the first hint of emotion in his voice as he said that.
“What do you want, boy?”
“Sir, I am trained to desire what my master desires, Sir.”
I slid my hand over his groin, feeling his cock and balls under the sheer fabric of the boxer briefs. His cock began to stir, but his face betrayed nothing. “But what do you want, boy?”
The question seemed to puzzle him. He glanced at me for a moment, as if trying to determine what I was really asking. “Sir, my training has focused on preparing me to be whatever my master wishes me to be. My conditioning has kept that portion of my personality from developing, Sir. If you want me to be cultured, I will want that too and I will become interested in the things that interest you, Sir. If you keep me to yourself, I will become fully monogamous and cease to be responsive to anyone else, whereas if you share me with others I will respond to them because I wish to please you, Sir. The only thing that I can say I want is to find my master, Sir. That is what the Shadow Academy trains all its slaves for, Sir. Being owned property is my highest goal in life, Sir.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, his expression softening and revealing some personality. “I was unhappy when my trainers held me back because it meant that I would have to wait to find my master, but I knew that it meant that the man who purchased me would be a superior master, Sir. If you wish to own me, Sir, I want you to be my owner.” As he said that, he made eye contact for a moment, and then looked away, knowing he had broken his protocol.
“Boy, have you been with a man before?”
“Yes, Sir. I’ve trained in many different styles of erotic behavior, Sir. If you wish, I can be virginal, or I can be a pig for you, Sir. I can be a sophisticated seducer, or I can be an insatiable slut, Sir. I can take pleasure in being beaten, or I can be an unwilling participant, Sir.”
“Boy, I want to see what you can do. So use whatever styles you want to show me.” I leaned back against a dresser.
He paused for a moment, perhaps trying to decide what would please me most. He looked up at me through his eyebrows, making sustained eye contact for the first time, and a moment later he stepped close and begin to run his fingers over my shirt. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He tugged on my tie and drew my mouth down to his and began to kiss me, slowly at first but then more aggressively, working his tongue into my mouth. As he did, he began to press his body against mine, grinding his stiffening cock against my thigh.
He undid my tie and then unbuttoned my shirt. He broke the kiss and stepped back for a moment to study me as he opened my shirt the whole way. He smiled very seductively. “I was hoping for a man who keeps himself in good shape, and I see I found him.” He ran his hands up my chest and pinched my nipples, just hard enough to draw a reaction. He made eye contact again and watched as I began to writhe under the pleasure of the attention to my tits. “Is this the way you like it?” he said with knowing confidence.
“It is, boy.”
He smiled and then leaned in to bite my left nipple with slowly increasing force. Just as it began to transition from pleasure to discomfort, he relented and moved over to the other nipple, repeating the process.
By the time he knelt down before me, my cock was getting desperate for attention. He unzipped my trousers and quickly liberated my cock, squeezing it gently in one hand. He looked up at me. “A real man’s cock. I like that.” He began to lick it, still maintaining eye contact, until I could hardly contain myself. And then he swallowed it with one fluid motion and proceeded to give me the best blow job I’ve ever experienced. I’ve had my cocked sucked by many slaves, but few of them did it with both skill and enthusiasm. I knew Oscar was a slave, but he seemed as hungry for my cock as I was to have my cock sucked. And he knew a lot of different ways to suck a cock: long loving strokes along the whole length of the shaft, fast short strokes just at the head, tonguing the piss-hole, licking the ridge of the head, increasing the suction to increase the friction, and so on. It wasn’t long before I was feeling the urgency to shoot my load.
Then, apparently realizing that I was close to orgasm, he abruptly stopped. He glanced up and made eye contact and then looked away. “Sir,” he said hesitantly, “am I doing it properly?” He suddenly seemed afraid to disappoint me.
I laughed, “Hell, yes, boy!”
He looked down. “I’m glad, Sir. I don’t have a lot of experience doing this, so I was afraid that I wasn’t skilled enough.” I realized that he had switched styles, playing the inexperienced virgin.
“You’ll do fine, boy.”
He stood up and turned around and then slowly removed his briefs, showing me that magnificent ass. Then he lay on his belly on the bed, slowly humping the sheets. “Please Sir, this is the one thing I haven’t done, and I want you to be the one to do it.” I hurriedly undressed as he undulated his ass for me. There was a bottle of lube standing on the night stand by the bed. As I grabbed it and slicked up my cock, he looked at me with a look of desperate desire. “Please, Sir, I need this.”
I touched his ass with my hand, and he quivered as if he’d never been touched by a man before. Even though I knew it was a performance, it was good enough to almost fool me. I leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll be gentle, boy. I promise.”
I knelt behind him and spread his ass-cheeks to see his hole. I stroked it with my finger and he let out a moan of pleasure, pushing back gently.
“I was warned that it hurts. Does it hurt, Sir?”
“Not much, boy. You can handle it.”
I began to penetrate him, leaning forward to press my cock in. He quivered. “Go slow, Sir, it hurts!” he whimpered. How would he respond if I were more aggressive, I wondered? So I continued to push. “Sir, please, stop! I can’t handle it!” He began to struggle. His efforts to dislodge me aroused me in a way I’d never imagined. I’d never had a slave try to stop me before, and it made me want to insist on my right to fuck him. Had he known I might react this way?
I pressed my weight on him and felt my cock slide all the way in. “Take it out, take it out!” he cried. Instead I began to thrust, building the force until I was slamming my cock in rapidly. He continued to plead with me to stop, struggling enough to excite me but not enough to win.
But his struggles began to turn to writhing. Moans and gasps of pleasure began to emerge, and his ass started to rise to meet mine. I could feel his ass clenching down on my cock, almost massaging it as I fucked him. His back arched and he raised his head and turned out, straining to kiss me. I leaned forward to meet his mouth and our tongues slid across each other.
My orgasm was building. “Breed me, Sir. Make me yours. Claim me!” he begged me with a voice that seemed to desperate to be pretense. Soon I hit the point of inevitability and my thrusts became frantic and irrational. I climaxed, blasting my seed deep inside him. I continued to thrust until I collapsed onto him from exhaustion.
Eventually I rolled off him and lay panting softly next to him. He rose, took a towel from a shelf, and lovingly cleaned me up, wiping up the sweat and lube and cum. Then he laid down beside me and curled into the crook of my arm. He gazed up at me adoringly. If it was a performance, it was a good one.
“Yes,” I said to Sabine, “that price is entirely acceptable.” I gave her my credit chip to scan.
She passed it to Daniel, who began processing it, as Sabine reviewed the fine points of the contract with me. Daniel returned the chip and handed Sabine a manila file.
“We’ll send you an electronic copy of his file, but here is the paper copy for your records.” She went through the file, explaining each document. “And here’s the certificate of ownership. That’s particularly important if you choose to take him abroad, of course. And here…is the activation phrase for his Loyalty Oath. Remember, once you activate it, you cannot return him, because he will be bonded to you for life.”
Oscar entered the room and stood in Waiting Rest. He was once again dressed only in a pair of white boxer briefs. Sabine glanced over at him. “Do you want to take him home with you now, or should I send him over later?”
“I’ll take him with me.”
“Very good. I’ll have his wardrobe shipped over tomorrow morning.”
We shook hands. “Will you be renaming him?”
The idea startled me. I owned a number of domestic slaves, but it had never occurred to me that I could select a new name for them. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.”
“Very good. Oscar, Mr. Cresswell is now your owner. Serve him well. Make your trainers proud of you.” She seemed to genuinely care about him.
Oscar nodded. “Understood, Ma’am. I will, Ma’am. Thank you for guiding the right master to me, Ma’am.”
I thanked Sabine and she ushered us out. Vincent was waiting curbside with the car. Oscar followed, a half-step behind me and to my left, just inside my field of vision but unobtrusive. Although Oscar was wearing nothing except his briefs, I noticed that he seemed completely unconcerned with that.
As Vincent piloted the car homeward, Oscar sat still, watching out the window but saying nothing as we headed back to my estate. I leafed through his file, including his educational record, details of his training and daily fitness regime, an inventory of his wardrobe, medical records and vaccinations, and a range of other information.
By the time we got home, it was close to sunset. Vincent dropped us off by the front door, and Oscar followed me in. He was taking things in, but not staring. I showed him the basic layout of the house and then took him to the room I’d assigned for him. It was a small room, just large enough for a bed and night stand, a dresser and a closet for the wardrobe that would be arriving.
He stood at Waiting Rest. “Do you have protocols I need to abide by, Sir?”
“Yes, boy, but I’ll go over those tomorrow. Tell me, are you happy to be owned?”
A smile crept across his face before he fought it down. “Yes, Sir. I have been waiting for this moment for a decade, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
I flipped open his file and reviewed the activation phrase. I thought for a moment about delaying using it, but I was fairly certain I wanted to keep Oscar, so I figured I’d do it right away. “Oscar, I am your master, and you have something important to say now.”
As I said that, I saw his eyes widen and almost involuntarily he dropped to his knees. “You are my master, Sir, and I am your property, body and soul. Everything I am I pledge to your service. Make me whatever you wish me to be, for you are my lord and master until my death. I swear that I will always obey you to the best of my ability and will make your pleasure my highest goal.” At first there was a mechanical quality to the way he said it, but as he progressed, there was more and more emotion in his voice. There were tears running down his face by the time he finished. Suddenly he threw himself forward and kissed my shoes repeatedly. “Thank you, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”
It was strange to hear so much gratitude and excitement in a slave’s voice. Most of my living property said “Thank you, Sir” in a mechanical, pro forma fashion that said it was just another rule to follow, not an expression of what they thought or felt. But Oscar was different. He craved my ownership, and to me that was amazingly arousing. I was sure I had made the right purchase.