Extraordinary Talent Pt 03

(These events occur in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is common-place for serious crime, unredeemed debt, or voluntary self-indenture. Eighteen years of age is the minimum for anyone in this world to be enslaved or be involved in slave business operations.

If you object to the basic premises of this story, I recommend that you find something else to read.

As always, this is strictly a FANTASY—in reality, informed consent is ALWAYS mandatory.)

(

Matt Hewitt's Viewpoint

)

I was finishing my first summer internship, a rare opportunity to learn about the industry at Hampton Petroleum outside Houston, and was about to return to Colorado for my second year of Petroleum Engineering. I should have been on top of the world, but instead . . .

I was butt naked except for a slave collar and a sleep mask. Well, technically my butt was NOT naked because it had a black rubber plug lodged in my anus. I was spread-eagled, tied face down and helpless, inside a large cage. And I had allowed myself to be put there, out of a combination of practicality and foolish romantic dreams.

How? During freshman year I had become good (platonic, unfortunately) friends with the most beautiful, intelligent, and wealthy young woman in my cohort—Theresa Thornton. Yeah, the only daughter of William Thornton, oil tycoon, who was the real author of my helplessness. Mr. Thornton had offered me full tuition and expenses for the rest of engineering school, together with great opportunities like the Hampton internship, but in return, I had to sign a personal services contract that, under Texas law, made me a de facto slave (legally, Free In Name Only) to his daughter. For the remaining four years of engineering school, I was to be a combination tutor, companion, and servant whom she and he could absolutely trust to put her interests first. I needed the money and treasured my time (at least in public, when I was clothed and uncollared) with Terri. So I agreed, even though having to submit to her like this in private seemed to guarantee she would never, ever, consider me as a lover rather than a servant. Moreover, since we were spending the summer in the family mansion, the father expected Terri to keep me naked, collared, and under discipline whenever we weren't actually working or in public. (Yes, slaves are normally naked and collared all the time. However, the contract designated me as an "Extraordinary Talent" slave who in public was exempt from that expectation.)

Mr. Thornton had tried to explain his reasoning to me. Apparently, Terri's deceased mother had been a slave consort Latina from whom the daughter got her dark beauty. In the father's mind, that slavery had forged a perfect bond of trust and friendship between husband and slave consort, later freed to become his devoted wife; therefore, although he didn't promise me anything like a marriage, he seemed to think this FINO contract would give his daughter the same kind of absolutely reliable, if subordinate, partner, reducing the chances that our classmates would make her life miserable. Didn't make much sense to me, since Mr. Thornton had already figured out that I loved his daughter so much that I would try to please and serve her for free, without any contract or obligation.

But he had insisted, and rich men usually get their way. Thus, several months earlier, "Mistress Theresa" had led me as her naked slave for in-processing at the Longhorn Slave Market in Houston. Among other humiliations, the slave handlers had asked that Terri install a chastity belt and plug on/in me. Then she was expected to go through the normal interactions of owner and slave—strap my rear end, put me over her lap for fondling, and finally have me kneel and bring her to orgasm with my tongue. I'm not submissive, so I hated all of this except making her happy with cunnilingus, which I didn't mind. Then she had made the mistake of telling two of her girlfriends about my skill at that activity, so now the three women were having a sleepover, and Terri had put me in my cage until it was time for me to "entertain" them.

*****

The women had been laughing and giggling in her bedroom for quite some time. Finally, I heard the door to the walk-in closet open and a light switch click on. I say I heard the switch, but I was still in darkness behind the sleep mask, which Terri had installed so that neither of these women would ever recognize me or vice versa. I felt four tugs as my Mistress cut the zip-ties holding me to the walls of my cage, then she ordered me to crawl backwards out of the cage and assume "Expose," kneeling with my thighs apart and my fingers interlocked behind my neck. That position permitted her to install leather cuffs that restrained my wrists in front of me, after which she had me stand. Once again, she used the intimate form of control that the Longhorn handler had shown her, cupping one of my buttocks in her hand, fingers inside the crevice, so that she could direct me by gently squeezing and pressing on my butt. (The horny guy in me always wished that I were the one fondling HER ass, but it wasn't going to happen.) I obeyed her signals and walked blindly into her bedroom, to be greeted by soft cries of "oooh" and "cute" from her unknown friends. I may have been mistaken, but it sounded as If all three women had already consumed more than a little alcohol.

Next thing I knew, I was back in "Expose" as I became aware of soft thighs on either side of my head. The woman seated in front of me had a distinctly different, spicy scent (and I soon learned, a different taste) from Terri. When ordered to please her, I asked for and obtained permission to use my bound hands to help my tongue entertain the unseen woman. Wanting to get this over without embarrassing Terri, I dove in, licking, sucking, and fondling almost frantically. The intense sensations caught the unseen woman off guard, and within a minute she was making little mewing sounds and pulling my head still closer into her snatch. At least she remembered to let me breathe once in a while!

I had no way of telling time, but I doubt it was even five minutes before she came to a noisy and very liquid climax. "OhmygodoOhmygodOhmygod I'm CUMMMINNGG." I paused for five seconds to catch my breath, then went at it again, but she quickly pushed me away, murmuring both thanks and a complaint that she was too sensitive to continue right then.

Terri (I presumed, since it was her voice) presented a water bottle to my lips and ordered me to drink, while the noise in front of me suggested that my first (mistress? audience? Victim?) was leaving whatever chair she had used to straddle me. Fifteen seconds later, another unusual-smelling vagina, this one more earthy but not unpleasant, was in front of me and I was again trying to demonstrate what (in Terri's joking comment) was my true "Extraordinary Talent"—not engineering tutoring but oral sex. The second lady didn't last much longer than the first one: "Oh, yeah, right there! Just like that! Work that clit. Bring me, Boy! AHHHH."

I made a mental note that I must find specialized exercises and start practicing to prepare my tongue and mouth for this much activity. It was rather exhausting to service multiple women.

The process of water to drink and musical vaginas continued. Predictably, having serviced her two friends I now found myself face deep in Terri's familiar crotch. Not only was my tongue tired, but after three months of regular practice I knew exactly how to bring my owner up to but not over into orgasm. This time, therefore, probably a quarter of an hour elapsed before she finally peaked and collapsed over me, cradling my head and murmuring thanks. "Damn, Ma---Slave, you always know just what to do." The comments from her friends were quite crude, to the general effect that they both wished they could keep their boyfriends as bound pussy-lickers, and everyone seemed pleased by my "talent."

I sat back on my haunches, still blindfolded, expecting that my Mistress would return me to my cage where I would spend an uncomfortable night listening to girlish shrieks and giggles from the next room. Instead, Terri ordered me to stand and guided me into what seemed to be her bathroom. The faint giggling behind me suggested that her friends were watching or even following us.

When she told me to sit down and urinate, I apologetically told her that, despite the constraints of my chastity belt, I was too stiff to go—I made some gentle comment that being surrounded by beautiful women had aroused me. "Well, I think we can trust you," she announced, and unlatched the chastity belt. Of course, that only caused my prick to inflate fully! Eventually, she had to apply a cold washcloth to the problem to get me to relax—and the fact that the love of life was fondling my dick did little to reduce my erection. By sitting down and leaning far forward, I finally managed to relieve myself, acutely aware that all three women were watching, with the two guests whispering and giggling about my plight.

I can only presume that Terri had had QUITE a few drinks, or maybe she was still slightly high from my ministrations, because her next action was even more surprising—she grasped my semi-erect penis and led me, still blindfolded with my hands cuffed in front of me, back into her room until my thighs encountered the edge of her bed.

"Crawl up on the bed and roll over onto your back, Slave," was her next instruction. At least she was still sober enough to avoid using my name in front of her friends. I felt her secure my wrists over my head, presumably to her headboard, while someone used a belt of some kind to bind my ankles together. And THEN three pairs of feminine hands started fondling all over my naked body, including my cock and balls. It felt fantastic. Three voices, which by now all sounded quite tipsy, made comments about my endowment, and then one pair of hands installed a condom on my prick, which member was once again extremely rigid.

In this position I could entertain two women at a time—one on my face and one on my groin—while the third mistress continued to feel me up at random. The scent and taste told me that Terri was the first to straddle my head and demand another round of pussy-licking, while one of the other two women straddled my hips and sheathed my rubber-wrapped ramrod inside her well-lubricated cunt! I was distracted by the need to focus on pleasing Terri orally, while the other woman slowly rode up and down on my cock as if I were a human dildo. Fortunately for them, if not for me, I couldn't get enough friction in that position to get off, but Terri and my unseen fuck-buddy certainly enjoyed themselves.

They kept switching around, but I did my best to track who was where. Just as spicy pussy shifted off my face, I heard (from the direction of my groin) the distinctive hiccup that Theresa made when she was approaching her climax—after three months of servicing her, I knew that sound intimately. As if to confirm my identification, earthy-scented pussy suddenly pressed my nose into herself. No doubt about it—my Mistress, the unattainable object of my love, was mounted on my prick! Despite the weight of two women on top of me, I tried to make the most of the situation, repeatedly thrusting my hips up off the bed so that I sank deeply into Terri's cunt. I was running out of air and barely tonguing the other woman, but my overstressed cock rammed repeatedly into the love of my life, and at the end of my endurance I filled that condom in a rush.

I almost passed out from the combination of exertion, climax, and oxygen starvation. When I went limp, both women dismounted quickly, and I distantly heard them expressing alarm. After breathing in deeply six or eight times, I apologized to them for my exhaustion—being careful NOT to indicate that I knew which woman was where on my body.

After allowing me to regain my breath, Terri unfettered me and walked me, still blindfolded, back to the toilet. My rapidly-shrivelling prick dropped the condom just as I reached it, so this time I had no trouble urinating, even though she "helpfully" directed my rod downwards!

"I'm sorry I gave out on you ladies—you're just too much for me," I murmured again. Terri, who still sounded worried about me, assured me that I had performed well, and the other two women added their own comments, to the general effect that they envied her having such a sexy slave on call. First time I ever heard a woman call ME sexy, but then, people will say things in front of slaves they would never admit to in front of citizens.

After giving me more water to drink and sponging me off, Theresa took me back to my cage, saying she would leave me unfettered and I could even remove the blindfold so long as I promised NOT to come back into the bedroom until they departed the next morning. She also handed me the discarded chastity belt, reminding me to re-install it sometime that night.

I pretended to be exhausted, waiting until she turned out the lights and closed the door. Internally, however, I was overjoyed—despite the bizarre circumstances, I had finally managed to make love to Terri, and she had obviously enjoyed herself. Perhaps, I thought, being her FINO slave was NOT a dead-end to love.

*****

After the final week of our internships, we each got an exit interview with a senior vice president, who gave us each a letter that summarized and evaluated what we had done. My letter and interview were both very complimentary, encouraging me to think I was on the right career track. Terri wasn't so sure about how well she had done, as she thought Hampton Petroleum was just being polite to the daughter of a major competitor. I finally got her to show me her letter, and I stressed the very specific, positive comments they had made about her, comments that were if anything more glowing than what I had received. Eventually, I convinced her.

"Thanks for talking me down, Matt," she finally said. "You're SUCH a good friend." Yeah, but I wanted to be so much more than her friend.

Her Dad took her out to dinner, just the two of them, the last night before we had to return to Colorado for our next year of school. Maybe it was my imagination, but his smile and handshake to me the next morning seemed much heartier than they had been three months earlier. I don't know whether he approved of my engineering work or my slave service, but he was happy about something. He encouraged me to "hang in there," saying I was doing "just fine."

When we got back to school, we sat down in her apartment to discuss our living arrangements. I told her that, while I was happy to be with her, I thought that all that naked-and-collared stuff had erected a barrier between us. She agreed, again saying it was her father's idea. Now that we were back to school, she would only expect me to go into "slave mode" if we were together in the apartment on Saturday evenings. Then she sighed, and said something about how she would miss my "extraordinary talent."

"Don't worry about that," I reassured her in what I hoped was a jocular tone. "We're going to be too busy studying most of the time, but any time you need to borrow my tongue, just let me know—I live to serve you!" This last was a standard slave yoga mantra, so I could get away with telling her the truth under cover of joking about my status.

"Good to know," she giggled.

That third semester was another long slog, constantly studying, calculating, designing, and testing. Sometimes, we were so busy that we ALMOST forgot about the contract. I say almost, because Terri was apparently addicted to receiving oral attention—unless she were out on a date (in which case her date had better perform pretty well!), she wanted me to lick her to several orgasms every weekend. After she was satisfied, she made me lie across her lap naked so she could pet and praise me, which was sweet but still frustrating. Thankfully, she ended those evenings by sending me to my cage with my belt unlatched so I could get myself off. Need I say that much of my masturbation centered around the sensation of me rearing upward into her cunt at that slumber party? (Or having HER on her knees servicing ME, which I doubted would ever happen.)

At the end of the term, she gave me a "vacation" to visit my great aunt Marcy, who had taking care of me for the last two years of high school. By now, however, Marcy had such serious health issues that she could barely take care of herself, let alone me, and had moved into assisted living. I spent three days visiting her while crashing in a cheap motel. After that, with her complete blessing, I went to spend Christmas with my "friend" (I implied that the friend was male) in Houston.

Theresa seemed glad to see me when I rejoined her at her father's house; the security chief, Hans, observed that she'd been walking on eggs or hot coals since she returned home from school. Terri introduced me to her only other living relative, her mother's sister Elena, whose eyes got very fierce once she realized that I would be spending the night in Terri's suite. My owner/friend was whooping with laughter after she closed the door behind us, leaving her Dad to explain the odd circumstances to his sister-in-law. "This is his crazy idea—let HIM deal with it!" The next day, Elena seemed mollified but couldn't decide whether to treat me as a nephew or a servant. I didn't blame her; even after seven months, I found this whole situation too bizarre for words.

That same day, Terri got a telephone call. Her happy response left it clear who was on the phone:

"Doctor Nikki!" She exclaimed, grinning. "So, how's motherhood?" There followed several minutes of incomprehensible chatter about the six-month-old boy, who was officially Paul Sheldon-Sousa but was likely to be saddled with the nickname "Butch." Eventually, the two women got around to the purpose of the call.

"Yeah, I guess it is time you talked to him," agreed Terri. "No, by all means bring Butch along—I'm sure my aunt and I would love to see him. The house isn't child-proofed, of course, but I hope we can still move faster than he can. Three o'clock? See you then."

Time to check one of the blocks on my personal services contract: Nikki Sheldon, my slave psychiatrist and guardian under Texas law, had to interview me periodically during my servitude. After five minutes of the women cooing over the baby, the new mom and I went aside for the discussion. She scoffed at my suggestion that I strip and kneel for her because I was technically a slave and had no excuse to be clothed in private; instead, she insisted we just sit in one of the lesser living rooms of the Thornton "palace."

As far as I was concerned, things were going about as well as I could expect—Terri had not expressed any serious complaints about my behavior, and once that embarrassing processing had been completed last May, we seemed to be getting along. I mean, yeah, it was weird to be naked around her in private, but she hadn't mistreated me in any way.

Doctor Sheldon was skeptical. "Matt," she began. "I don't know you very well, but something about your situation is bugging you. What's up?"

"To be honest, Nikki," which is what she insisted I call her, servitude or not, "I'm reluctant to tell you something that you might be obligated to report to Terri, which in turn would make her unhappy."

"Texas law only requires me to break confidentiality if the situation affects the slave's performance or safety. Terri's dad already indicated that he was very happy with you, and Terri doesn't seem dissatisfied, either. I can't do my job if you don't tell me what's going on."

"Okay, well," I paused, hunting for words. "I have . . . feelings for her."

"Well, Duh!" she replied, not unkindly. "I suspected it the first time we skyped, and it was clear on your face when you signed the contract and in-processed at the Long Horn: No matter how much you got paid, I would think you MUST be in love to do something that embarrassing. Why else, short of a loaded gun, would you voluntarily strip and submit yourself to a woman who had been your peer?"