"You didn't lie, Denver. That's a nice bitch."
I want to run, to get away from this house and especially this man sitting on the couch a few feet away. Mr. Denver, my owner, holds my leash tightly. I'm on my hands and knees, my back arched, and my mouth open with my tongue protruding. This disgraceful position is how my master told me to greet his guest.
I'm wearing a pink slingshot thong. It's nothing but three straps, two down the front that barely cover my nipples and one down my back that rides up my ass. My face is covered in makeup (purple eyeshadow, thick mascara, green lip stick, and fake eyelashes), so that when the disgusting guest looks at me he sees nothing but a sex object for his amusement.
"Slut is well trained, huh," says the guest.
"This little bitch was one of the most eager," says Mr. Denver. He smacks my ass. My cock twitches against the thin fabric.
"Well, let me test the whore out," says the guest. This is what I was dreading. The guest makes me sick. He's a tall, thin hillbilly with long hair and a gray beard down to his chest. He's wearing a pair of boots and stained underwear through which I can see his massive bulge. The man is missing a few teeth and the rest are yellow. There are tattoos all over his wrinkled, leathery skin.
Mr. Denver throws the leash over to his guest. The man licks his lips. "Get over here, faggot," he says. The word makes my chest hot and my dick ache. He pulls the leash hard forcing me to crawl quickly between his bony legs.
"You're a pretty girl, ain't you," he says. He strokes my face with a callused finger before sticking it in my mouth. He grabs my tongue between his thumb and pointer, and sticks the rest of his fingers down my throat. I want to gag from the taste, but hold it in. His fingers plunge down my throat. "She's a great slut," the guest says.
Am I a faggot, or a girl? He can't seem to make up his mind. He pulls his fingers from my throat and smears spit across my face. I realize it doesn't matter. To him I'm all these things. I'm a lowly, cocksucking fag. I'm a girl, good for nothing but his sexual pleasure. I'm a bitch, made to be abused and degraded. I'm a whore, a sex object, a toy for his amusement.
He pulls his cock out and I gasp. It might be a foot long. The monster is covered in veins. The skin is wrinkled and the shaft is crooked. "Ain't it beautiful," he says as he takes his penis in one hand and beats it across my face. I want to cum just from this, just from having this asshole smack his vile cock against my face. I start moaning and gyrating.
He laughs. "Just like a bitch in heat. Open that mouth, we got to do something before you get to work."
I open my mouth and he rests the head of his cock against my tongue. "Do you know what faggots like you are best for?"
"No," I say.
He spits in my face. "You call me daddy ya' dumb slut."
I feel his fresh spit sliding down my face. "No, daddy."
He smiles. I look at his wrinkled, cruel face. He's disgusting trailer trash. He's the garbage of humanity, and here I am, dressed like a pornstar, on my hands and knees, wearing a leash, calling him daddy. A few weeks ago I was a man, and now I'm a feminized open-mouthed bitch, drooling as I await my orders. Part of me wants to run, still. Part of me wants to tell them I'm done, put my clothes on, and drive to the nearest recruitment office. I think about getting a respectable 9-5 job, paying my taxes, living in a small apartment.
