Cameron gives David everything he needs. David can come and go as he pleases and I’ve been told that he’s currently studying. Sven updates me on what’s happening in David’s life. I get photos to show that everything is going great with him, but I’m not allowed contact with him. As long as David is safe and cared for, I’m happy.

I take a pair of jeans from the closet and pull them on. That’s all I get to wear at parties, a pair of worn jeans.

I walk over to the table where my medication has been left for me. I pick up the glass of icy water and take a sip to wet my throat before I swallow the pills.

I place the glass back on the tray and then I stare out the window until my sight blurs. I don’t see anything as my mind begins the process of shutting down.

There’s a knock at the door and then Sophia comes in. She’s been here as long as I can remember. Sophia’s momma was also a slave and she got pregnant with one of the Masters. Her momma died not long after mine so we got trained together. She’s one of Cameron’s favorites. She’s in charge of the female slaves.

She smiles brightly at me. “You ready, Jack?” I nod and grab the leather bands from the dresser. Sophia comes and helps me put them on my wrists. She has the same leather collar around her neck. It’s black and soft.

The other slaves have metal collars that chafe at their skin. Sophia and I are very lucky, and we know this. Things can always be worse.

We leave my room and walk together to the grand room where the parties are held. The other slaves are already there seeing to the desires of the guests.

Four guards stand outside the huge wooden doors and one goes to open the door for us. There are guards everywhere, Cameron’s guards and those of the guests.

As soon as we step into the room we look down. Sophia goes to her podium on the left side of the room and I go to my podium on the right side.

Where Sophia kneels with her face down and her ass in the air, I kneel on my left knee, and looking down I place my right hand flat on the podium.

I hear murmurs drifting closer to me.

“Have you placed our stake?” I hear Mistress Westbrook ask. I close my eyes as a sliver of despair tightens my chest. This woman is a demon. She doesn’t buy me for the fuck, but to see how much she can torture me before I’ll break.

“I have, Sweetness,” I hear Master Westbrook say. They are filthy rich and always win the auction to have me.

The night continues, dragging by slowly.

I hear Cameron’s dry laughter and then he says, “Bring the slave to Mrs. Westbrook.” He laughs again. “My dear, seeing as you got so close to winning the slave for the night, I’ll allow you thirty minutes with him for half of what you staked.”

“You’re so generous,” Mistress Westbrook says.

It happens a lot where Cameron will offer me for thirty minutes to the person who came second. He makes almost double the money then.

“Get up, Slave!” Sven barks and I quickly stretch to my full length. I follow Sven over to Master and Mistress Westbrook’s table.

The tables are round and shared by two couples. The table tops can turn and has restraints for our arms and legs so we can be displayed to the guests.

There is an assortment of whips, canes, crops and paddles against the walls for the guests to use on the slaves.

“Your slave, Mistress,” Sven says and I know to drop to my knee.

“Thank you, Sven-dear,” Mistress Westbrook purrs and then I see her red high heels step into my line of sight. Her hand comes to rest on my head and then she pats me, as if I’m a dog.

“I wish Cameron would sell this slave to me. There is so much I’d like to do with him.”

While my head is down I quickly suck in a few breaths of air.

“Get on the table, Slave,” she commands.

As I obey, the music changes to something slow and sad. Cameron does this so the winners will take the slaves they’ve won to the rooms designated for them. As far as I know Cameron never takes part himself. This is all about the business for him. He proved that money flows through his veins the day he sold my momma, his own wife, to the highest bidder. That man beat her to death.

I settle down on the table and then I feel Mistress Westbrook’s hands at the button of my jeans. She never straps me down like the other slaves are strapped down. She likes to test me, to see if I’ll snap and try to defend myself. I stare up at the ceiling and keep still.

She yanks the jeans down baring me to the room. She only pulls the jeans down to my thighs, not bothering to take them off all the way. I’ve been whipped, flogged and caned by this woman. She has left bite marks on most of my body. I’ve learned to expect anything from her.

She takes hold of my lifeless cock. She hates that I don’t get hard for her. She hates it even more that only medication can make me hard.

I feel rubber bands being slipped over the length of me, one at the base of my cock and the other right underneath the head.

“I got you a present, Slave,” she purrs as she strokes me. Her grip tightens when I don’t get hard. It takes the medicine longer and longer to work, every time. I can’t wait for the day that nothing will work to make me hard. “Tonight you will get hard for me!”

An electric charge shoots from the one band to the other, pulsating through my cock. My whole body tenses as the pulse sizzles all the way to my groin. I wish I was tied down, at least then I’d have something to hold on to.

“See how hard you’re getting for me now,” Mistress Westbrook purrs. When I keep my eyes on the ceiling she snaps, “Look at your hard cock!” My eyes leave the spot on the ceiling and I let them travel down my chest, past my abs to where my cock is standing rock hard. I hate that she managed to get me hard. I feel degraded as she strokes me a couple of times and then another electric charge shoots from the one band to the other, this time stronger. It makes my cock throb and I fall back onto the table with a thud. The electric pulses come faster and stronger, and I clamp my teeth together so I won’t orgasm for her.

She’s had my blood but never my orgasms.

Just as I’m about to explode I hear a soft voice, “I believe the thirty minutes are up. The slave is mine now.”

“This is ridiculous!” Mistress Westbrook cries. “I’m sure you can wait another ten minutes!”

This time the voice has a bite to it. “No, I paid for every minute and I intend to enjoy every minute.”

I feel a small hand rest on my shoulder. “Get up and take that thing off, then follow me.” I shoot up and almost yank the electrosex bands from my cock, which is still throbbing something fierce.

I pull my jeans over my sensitive cock and only zip it up. I’m in such a hurry to get away from Mistress Westbrook that I don’t even bother with the button.

I slip from the table and stand on shaky legs. Mistress Westbrook comes to stand in front of me. Her face is tight and caked with make-up which only makes her look older. “I’ll see you next week, Slave.”

A cool hand slips into mine, making my eyes jump to the other woman. I’m shocked to see that it’s Mistress Ryland. “Not if I have any say.” Mistress Ryland lets her eyes travel over Mistress Westbrook with a clear look of disdain. “You enjoy your evening now.”

She tugs my hand lightly and I start to follow her out of the room. Never has a mistress held my hand.

I steal glances at her as we walk to the room assigned for us. She only reaches my shoulder, and has a petite build. Her brown hair shimmers in the electric lights. She’s quite beautiful to look at. I’m not used to having a beautiful mistress. I actually prefer them ugly it’s easier to switch off then.

There’s something about her that’s different than all the other mistresses. She has a confidence that shows with every step she takes. She doesn’t have that cruel or lust filled gleam in her eyes that the others normally have when they look at me. I’ve never seen someone like her and I’m not sure how to handle that.