The Scheming Fucktoy

"Good job, Simon," she coolly congratulated. "Very good job. Come in, the both of you."

Nonchalantly, she snapped a leash onto Simon's collar, then took my leash and led us both into the apartment. It had been years since I saw a normal apartment, but I could still tell that this one was as generic and bland as one could possibly expect- nothing here hinted towards anything unlawful.

At the far end of the apartment, Simon's owner sat down on a couch, her arms sprawling out authoritatively.

"So, Slim Tim," she addressed. "Seems like we rescued you from quite a sorry predicament back there, didn't we?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. "Thank you very much for saving me."

"I hope you don't think I did that for free," she continued.

My heart sank.

"Am I... am I your slave now?"

"No," she answered. "Tomorrow, I'll sell you on the Durham-Atkinson auction. It's a reputable event. You'll be sold to good people there."

My face lit up.

"Before that, though," she added, "you need to serve me."

"For only one day? Just name my task, Mistress."

"Let me give you a hint..."

Reaching forward, she cradled my penis, pulling gently on it and bouncing it up a few times.

I blushed as, like clockwork, she coaxed me to rigidity.

"She wants you to cook sausages," Simon whispered in my ear.

"Very funny, Simon," the woman acknowledged. "You're dismissed, Simon."

Absently, she unleashed him, then returned her other hand to me, feeling all over my masculinity. Bringing her hands forward, she pulled me onto her lap and opened my legs.

I looked self-consciously to Simon, but, to my relief, he was no longer watching.

For a few more seconds, she pulled at my penis, heat radiating from the places where she squeezed my resistant flesh. I struggled not to groan.

All the while, her other hand pulled at my butt, pinching me and kneading my softness. Then, she brought one hand back, and, without warning me, sharply spanked by right cheek.

"Gah!" I exclaimed.

The woman chortled throatily, then, with unnerving ease, hoisted me up and slung me over her shoulder, trapping my arms behind my back.

Hung like a sack of potatoes, I could only bite my tongue as the woman's hands' started to explore my rear, rubbing it and taking a few more slaps at it, sending stinging sensations all the way up my spine. Blushing, I looked to Simon, only to find him stealing a peep at me. With a blush of his own, he subtly waved to me, then turned around and resumed whatever he was doing.

After carrying me through a door, the woman removed her hand from my wrists and pulled me from her shoulder, laying me gently onto a bed.

Looking up at her, I saw her mouth curl into an increasingly perverse smile as she crawled over my body and got up on her knees, then pulled down her pants, revealing a red, moist vagina. Bringing a hand down, she stroked it for a few seconds, causing a few drops of juices to drip onto my body.

Her eyelids lowered and her breathing grew heavy. Then, with no further ceremony, she lowered herself onto me.

Her first thrust knocked the wind out of me, and, at the same time, it shot life into my shaft. My hands clutched fistfuls of sheet and my legs twitched, only to stay held open by her knees. As my muscles braced themselves, by body had to decide whether to send blood to my brain and keep thinking straight, or send it to my genitals and keep the woman pleased.

Guess which one happened.

My head felt light and I started panting, feeling as though my body was about to implode. As she continued her conquest, I moaned through gritted teeth and tried to twist away from her, only to feel her hands clamp tightly down on my torso. Looking up, I stared straight into her predatory leer.

Just as I did, her face began to distort and her pumping became uneven, then she straightened her back and sang out with pleasure. She clenched around me, and I lost all semblance of control. My penis felt like it about to pop.

Finally, the tension subsided, and my head fell limply back on the mattress. With a heavy squelching noise, the woman dismounted me, releasing my cock.

"That was great," she breathed. "Good job, Tim."

"Ohhh..." I groaned.

"Simon!" called the woman.

"Yes?"

"Get Tim here cleaned up."

As the woman left the room, Simon slipped wordlessly past her and stood at my bedside. Looking over me, he smiled sympathetically.

"Yup, this looks about normal for her," he commented. "Come on, let's get you up."

Taking my hand, he pulled me up to a sitting position. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear.

"I've got something to talk to you about," he whispered to me.

"What?" I uttered. "What's... what's the matter?"

"You're getting sold soon," Simon reminded. "That means you get a chance to escape. You know that, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You've got to take me with you."

"She didn't mention that."

"Yeah, I hope not. I want to escape, too."

"You?" I gasped. "You want to escape? But she treats you so well!"

"Yeah, she does," he admitted. "For a slave. I've put myself at risk over and over to give better lives to abused slaves, and every one of them has a better life now. So forgive me if I think I've earned my freedom."

"But freedom is given, not earned," I protested.

"Not for me, it won't be. You know how, in movies, the slave always earns their freedom by doing something great? That never actually happens. My mistress bought me to keep me. She has me mete out vigilante justice for the same reason she fucks me: because it pleases her. It's fun. It's all just a game to her. Well, I'm done being her game pe-"

With an understated slip, the door pulled open, and Simon's voice cut off.

"Simon, what's taking you so long?"

"Sorry," said Simon, "I was checking something with his collar here. Thought for a moment that I might have forgotten to disable the beacon."

The woman's eyes grew wide.

"I didn't," he clinched.

"Well, get back out here and help me get the covert messenger ready."

"Will do."

To my amazement, she then left the room and closed the door.

"I'll give you the plan tomorrow," Simon hissed, getting up. "You're not leaving here without me. You owe me, Slim Tim."

"Okay."

"Is that a promise?"

I hesitated a moment. Simon was looking me in the eye. This was the sort of promise a person could die by.

"Yes," I confirmed. "That's a promise. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Simon made one nervous glance back, then put his hands on my shoulders. With a naughty smile, he pulled up to me and gave me a quick, light kiss.

"Thank you," he breathed. "I'll come up with a plan. For now, just act natural."

"You got it," I said. "Tomorrow. I promise."

The End