Context: sorry it's been so long since the last part! I've had a crazy amount of life going on between chapters and I'm now carving out more time to write again. I'll also be getting back to my other story 'Schoolboy Submits to his Neighbour', so look out for new chapters there soon aswell: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/schoolboy-submits-to-his-neighbour/
Chapter 15 -- Pillow Princess
As the dog collar fixed around my skinny neck and tied to the cheap metal frame, I realised it was more of a psychological trick than anything practical. The steel felt so flimsy and hollow it was barely built for the rough sex this bed must endure night after night, it was a miracle it was still structurally sound. I could have easily escaped if I wanted to, but considering I put up no resistance, as was expected, the collar was no doubt there as an added turn on to the patrons of these pimps, and to the slut who's neck it was fastened to. It was certainly working for me. As soon as it was fastened into place I instinctively buried my head into the pillow and waiting on my tummy for my first visitor.
Much to my surprise the pillow smelled divine, a soft, flowery aroma filled my nostrils and soothed my soul. In such a rancid, decrepit and down right filthy flat, this was certainly unexpected. Take the small victories while you can, I remember thinking, it calmed my mind and allowed me to wander from my current situation. In terms of why it was there I simply couldn't explain, but I had theories, which I thought I may as well entertain as I have nothing else to pass the time. Let's see, I thought, there was little to no chance that either of my owners would courteously spray the pillow with a perfume to make my experience more enjoyable. My prevailing theory which I still stand by was it's the perfume left behind from the last boy slut who had his face buried into this pillow.
He has good taste, I thought, maybe I should try and find a more feminine perfume. I was certainly thankful to him. And yet, I couldn't help but think competitively, was he still in the picture? Is he the favourite? Am I? Or, is the more likely option, we're two of a great number of sluts they have hoping for attention and love. If I was being jonest with myself, and I rarely was, I knew this was probably the case.
As the minutes ticked on, my mind wandered deeper. As I took glances through the doorway towards the two bears laughing and smoking I thought my most introspective question yet. Why are sluts like me attracted to their bullies? I'm no psychologist but while I had the time I thought I would give it a go.
One theory is that simple evolution, domination is attractive. Since the beginning of time the strong, battle scarred man has carried away the most attractive breedable bitch to use as he wished. That rule is primal, and we can't deny we're all still animals. Embedded into us, the submissive sluts (be it girls or boys) have been coded ever since to find this domination undeniable. To submit to a force bigger, stronger and quite frightening is something we secretly yearn for, it's stitched within our brain chemistry. It's something we usually cannot vocalise but it's a reaction we cannot deny. To be equal is boring, either you want to be controlled or you want to control. Submissive's want decisions and will to be taken away from them, and to be given one job and one job only. To keep their master happy and satisfied.
The second theory is perhaps a more modern one. I hate the 'treat them mean to keep them keen' line but it simply is true. Once that dominant aggressive breeder shows you distain and even worse, indifference you will do everything in your power to make them think differently of you. It's plays into a self hatred mentality for sure, and may seem completely contradictory. Why would you want to bring pleasure and happiness to someone who mocks, despises and ridicules you? Maybe it's because you love the feeling of being lesser, of being teased, of being looked down on. And so when you're on your knees gagging on their dick, and you know they're laughing at you for being even more pathetic than they thought, maybe you like the feeling of affirming what they know to be true, that you're pathetic. Maybe you love that feeling.
It's complicated, but it does make sense. You love that they're powerful and you're not, and so by being pathetic for them, you make them even more powerful, you use yourself to confirm how right they were, and that's hot. Reward the dominant, especially if you're the victim. Also, when you do satisfy them and bring them pleasure, for that split second you feel that they might think you're worth something. But more so than that, just to confirm to them that they are the man is the reward. They have their feet up, playing xbox with a pretty little loser sucking on their balls and swallowing their cum, life doesn't get better, they're apex and you allow them to get there. That's the reward.
There's other theories I came up with, maybe because we're all such complex beings that being able to seduce your bully, the one who has so much control over you, finally gives you a moment of control over them. You can make them cum, you can make them quiver with pleasure. Seeking approval is another, wanting them to see you as something and someone of value.
I came to the conclusion, lying there naked with a collar around my neck, that it could be any or all of these kind of theories, and the mind is a complex, misunderstood adaptable thing that is juggling many and all logics and emotions at once. They're all right, and all right, all in their own little ways, but the simple truth of the matter is we fucking love to be taken advantage of, pleasure is a pit we get lost in, and can never be satisfied, and so we go back. Again and again and again.
It was well timed, the interruption of my thoughts, as I wrapping up my internal thesis the fat man strode in to the room sat next to my face and shoved his phone in my face. Temporarily blinded, I waited for my eyes to adjust and through slitted eyelids he came into focus. A selfie of a middle aged man. Now confirmed, he looked mid 50s, slightly older perhaps. It was one of those incredibly cheesy selfie's that generation do when they're on holiday, it's quite obviously forced and looks completely unnatural, usually staring directly into the sun for the 'best light' which results in an incredibly uncomfortable smile. This picture was no exception. He wasn't bad looking by any means.
"Here's your daddy for hire, he's a regular and I usually give him first dibs as he's a clean guy and pays over the odds usually to take his time. No complaints from the cum dumps so far so make him happy.
Just so's you know he's paid for the works, so whatever he wants, you's fucking doing. Don't call out to me or T, unless he's going to shit on your face or sumin all I want to hear are your pained moans and his old grunts, you understand?"
I nodded.
"Good, any minute now."
As he headed for the kitchen he paused at the doorway, muttered a profanity to himself then stormed into the kitchen. I heard shuffling around and within seconds he was back at my side.
He sat back down with a groan.
"You's not done this before I take it, and obviously not here before, so house fucking rules. Firsts, here's a cum rag."
He brought an stiff looking kitchen towel out of his back pocket, it's chequered pattern faded, clearly never washed. He tucked it under my pillow.
"Any cunt that doesn't finish in your mouth, you clear up with that. I don't want loads of ass juice and cum dribbling onto this bed and getting into the mattress, it's disgusting as it is. Keep your house clean. Anything in your mouth swallow, anything on your body or ass ends up in that cum rag, got it?
I nodded.
"Good, rest of the shit is obvious. We want you on peak form, so we can charge even more next time. Read the fucking room, if the bitch wants you to be pathetic and mopey, be mopey, if he wants you energetic and involved do that. You is providing a service, so customer satisfaction is on the agenda.
The rest is obvious shit. Don't tell them where you live, don't tell them your real name. Don't talk prices or business with them or I'll beat you. If you try and undercut us by linking up with these motherfuckas outside of this house, I'll hurt you and not in a fun way, you got it?"
I nodded.
Then I heard a very faint knocking on the door. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Why was this so exciting?
"Get that arch warmed up Jack, old boy Neill is here"
"Jack?"
"Jack of Spades? oh never mind"