Sex stories

This is the continuation of my life as a bitch.
A real story — not a fantasy.

The sex shop owner became my Master. My Boss. The man who owned my pleasure.

Once I stripped in the backroom, he looked me straight in the eye:

“Cabin 12. Now. That’s your place. You accepted the deal — there’s no going back.”

I went up without a word. He didn’t touch me, didn’t look at me. No smile, no nod. Just silence.

25 minutes later, a intercom . A cold voice crackled through:

“You’ve got 15 seconds to be bent over, ass up, eyes closed.”

I obeyed.

Someone entered. No words. Just a zipper, and suddenly — I was getting fucked.
Deep, fast thrusts, no hesitation. A hard cock slamming into me over and over. It didn’t take long before I felt him unload inside me.

I moaned in pure satisfaction.

That’s when the Boss finally spoke:

“I told you to think about it. You chose option three. That means you belong to me now.”

He came closer, calm but firm.

“You’ve got five minutes. You either get dressed and leave — forever.
Or you become a real bitch for me. I’ll bring you clients every weekend. But only if you say yes. And only under my rules. Deal?”

It was about 3:30 PM.

Ten minutes later, I was sucking and taking my first client.

By closing time, I’d had four. And I was proud of it.

He took me out to dinner that night. Nothing fancy — just a quiet table. At the bar, he handed me an envelope.

“Your cut.”

I looked at the fun. Then at him.

“I don’t care about the cash. I know now. Ever since I stepped into your shop, I understood. I want to be your slut. For real. Every week. Ugly guys, fat guys, old guys — I don’t care. I want to serve them. For you.
But on one condition: your cock when I arrive, and your cock before I leave.”

He smiled.

I worked for him — as his personal submissive bitch — for two and a half years. Until his illness fxxced him to slow down. But even sick, he never stopped being my Dom.

⸻

One Saturday, he told me he had a surprise for me.
A game. A harder one.

He entered my cabin at 6:30 PM. Ran a hand down my back.

“Tonight, you don’t move. You obey. Clear?”

I nodded.

“It’s a scene. But I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Master. I’m ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, he returned.
He blindfolded me.

“No talking. No questions. Just silence and obedience. This is your world. And mine.”

He led me down the corridor, slowly, hand on my shoulder. He turned me around, positioned me.

“Spread wide. Sit. Now.”

I obeyed — and instantly, I was impaled. One giant cock pushed inside me in a single, deep stroke. I screamed — from shock, from joy, from surrender.

Then another cock filled my mouth. Without warning — just domination.

I heard my Master’s voice, steady, almost soft:

“Make me proud. Drain them. Be the filthy slut you were born to be.”

And I did.

I moaned, xxxed, drooled, gave them everything.
It was a gangbang. But it was everything I wanted — everything we’d agreed.

When it ended, I collapsed to my knees. Someone pissed on me. A ritual.
I accepted it. Owned it.
Because I’d chosen it.

He leaned close and whispered:

“Stay here ten minutes. Then meet me in the backroom. Eyes down.”

I waited. Then crawled to him.

He looked down at me, proud.

A stack of cash in his hand.

“I sold you tonight.”

I smiled.

Looked him in the eyes.

“Show me my new Masters.”