Escort
He put in a lot of time and effort to look as good as he could. Lifted weights, did cardio, obsessed about diet, took care of his skin. His looks were his selling-point, in addition to his big cock. Any woman could have any man, but he made sure he had something extra for those with the money to pay. Even though after the Great Female Takeover the job of a male escort was one of those risky ones, the money was well worth it. He had only fallen victim to predators a handful of times, but bruises, burns, and torn anuses heal. Wealth was the best healer. He would never be poor again.
Yet he had avoided worse peril so far . . .
Until now.
It had started in the usual way. A woman, an older one, had contacted him on his page, complemented him on his looks, asked if he had limitations. She had promised very good money.
They had reached an agreement.
A limousine had picked him up from home. The customer was not on it. This was not atypical. A group of women on it would have made him a touch nervous, he had only gotten on is such a situation a handful of times, only regretted it once (the nurses at the ER, barely bothering to hide their amusement, had commented that they'd never seen as many teeth-marks on one cock - and the visual injuries had only been the tip of an iceberg). An empty limousine, on the other hand, was less ominous.
On his way, he had prepared himself. The customer had asked if he enjoyed pain. He had said that he did not, but some he could tolerate it for right compensation. She had not replied. He was ready for anything. He'd seen it all. He had been the certerpiece of some twisted parties, catered to all imaginable kinks and fetishes more or less. He was not daunted.
And yet, when the limousine had pulled over in the yard of this opulent mansion, and as the door had opened and he'd been greeted at gunpoint, he had know.
This was the peril he had so far avoided.
He had then been unceremoniously dragged into the basement, stripped and tied up. Syringes shot into him. Left waiting, as strange feelings took over. Horniness beyond anything he'd exprienced before, an aching erection.. . . and naked terror.
Then sounds of boosteps. She had stepped forth. A look in those cold and gleeful eyes, once they had flicked over his form, the ominous smile on those thin, blood-red lips, and abject desperation had overcome him.
This would hurt. This would hurt bad.
Cigarette touched flesh. She loved watching his beautiful face contorting as she hurt him. That strong body struggling in vain. His shrill cry echoing in the torture dungeon sending chills down her spine.
They would start slow. She was in no hurry, and liked to enjoy the process. Between each torture, ramping up in painfulness and degradingness, she would introduce him the next tool of his suffering and watch the horror in his eyes. He would beg and he would see in her expression how useless it was. How it only aroused and amused her. Yet he could not stop.
She was rich, so she could do what she wanted. In today's word, a rich woman was untouchable. Any man was hers to take and do with what she pleased. Everyone knew that. It was wholly the fault of the fools when they advertised their goods publicly. They were nothing but baits for the likes of her. Just meat for consumption.
This is what she enjoyed, this and only this. She did not need love. She did not need companionship. Only a young beautiful member of the feebler sex, helpess in her clutches, could sate her needs. Hurting him, watching and listening to his agony, as he fought and as he begged, was the only thing that made her pussy dripping wet.
To slowly ruin him. To destroy him.
This here, the beginning, was the best part. The boy did not know what lay ahead. She did not yet know how satifying his reactions were, although this certainly was a promising start. She took her time, circling the cigarette tip around his tip. Taking in his distress. His cock twitched in her hand. All hard and sensitive, helpless. Just a target for her sadism.
Yes, he would make a lovely victim. And who knew, if he was good enough, she might leave him alive. She might make him her pet.
He might last for weeks - even months!
She smiled. What a wonderful life she had, in the best of all possible worlds!