My life in submission to an Asian man

Normal disclaimers: This story is fiction. It contains graphic depictions of sex between men. If it is illegal for you to read it, don’t. Thanks!

This chapter includes themes of consensual non-consent and SM.

Please let me know in the comments or in an email if you have any recommendations (especially for the Asianwashing), anything you’d like to see or any feedback!

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From Chapter 12

As we stepped further into the room, Alex reached into his jacket and pulled out a collar and leash.

“Hold still,” he said, most of the kindness having returned to his voice.

He put the collar on me and wrapped the leash once around his right hand.

“Come,” he ordered, leading me through the crowd of people.

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Chapter 13

The Gallery, Pt. 1

He was right about at least some of the masters being jealous that he owns me. I saw looks of lust directed at me and envy directed at him. That made me stand taller with pride. Slaves were looking at me, too, as Alex walked us up to one of the Latino exhibits. This twunk, maybe in his mid-20s, was bound by red ropes and hanging belly down from their ceiling. One rope was tied to his medium length hair, holding his head back so his face was easily visible. He was doing his best to keep a stony expression but there were hints of discomfort written on his face. That facial expression somehow seemed to compliment the pre-Spanish Latin-American headdress it was wearing.

The Latino’s flaccid, thick, long, uncut cock dangled below him as he spun by his ropes so slowly it was almost imperceptible. The red rope ran between the base of his cock and his balls, separating them but not stopping the balls from hanging low as well. A plaque on a stand next to him read:

“Aztec Chandelier”

Artist Jose Alvarez

Medium: Silk rope on Latin aged 26 years, importer from Puerto Rico

slave name or ID number not provided

So Jose Alvarez was one of the 35 masters whose slave art was chosen. Next to the plaque was a sign that told slaves they were only allowed to touch artwork if permitted by their masters.

I watched Alex reach up and caress the Latino’s cheek and examine him.

“This one’s got such smooth skin,” Alex commented to Jae. “I don’t usually see Latin pieces this cleanly shaved in the exhibits.”

The Latino didn’t react in any way.

Jae nodded as he stepped up right next to the piece and touched his right nipple.

“Nips on this one are hard enough to cut a diamond,” Jae said with a chuckle. 

The Latino inhaled sharply as Jae pinched the nipple but was otherwise completely unresponsive. He was staring at Alex, who made eye contact with him as he pulled the piece’s lower lip down with his thumb and ran it along the inside of the lip.

“I love the thick lips,” Alex said. “And the way the artist arranged everything. The way the rope keeps it so totally immobile and shapes its body so specifically but doesn’t obstruct anything. Its nipples are easy to see and get to, its dick is very visible and easy to get to, its face is clearly presented, its arms are pulled back but in a way that exposes its armpits. Simple, but the artist obviously put a lot of thought into how to display his piece.”

Alex walked around and pulled me along my my collar as a Latino master walked up with his white slave, caressed the piece’s back and then kissed it on the lips. The Latino responded, kissing back. But when the master broke the kiss, the Latino’s stony expression returned and he acted as if nothing had happened.

Alex walked up right next to the piece and reached out his free hand to caress its ass. He squeezed each well muscled cheek, then slipped a finger into the crack and played with its hole.

‘Its hole,’ I thought, realizing that my mental vocabulary was matching my Master’s spoken words.

Alex pulled his finger away and reached the same hand down, grabbing ahold of the Latino cock and shaking it, chucking as it flopped around. It was so long flaccid that one hand only covered about half of it. I noticed as Alex played with its dick that the piece got hard, staying the same length but growing slightly thicker. Alex shifted his attention to the balls.

“Damn, these are heavy,” he said, looking at me. “Feel how heavy its balls are.”

I obeyed, reaching out my right hand and weighing the Latino’s balls in it. Alex was right. The large balls were heavy. The installation was obviously aroused by the fondling attention as its dick was solid and leaking precum.

Alex reached out and used his index finger to scoop some of the precum off the tip of its dick and tested it.

“Mm, delicious,” he said to nobody in particular.

Alex reached out and scooped up another big drop of precum and held the finger in front of my lips.

“Open.”

I obeyed and Alex stuck his finger in my mouth. I closed my lips around it, tasting the sweet liquid as he pulled his finger out of my closed mouth.

The number of attendees was growing quickly. It was so hot to see so many dominant Asian and Latino men in modern stylish suits being followed around by naked slaves of every race. 

One black twink with an eight inch and thick cock was fully erect (Alex later explained to me that service tops were coming back into style at these events and their masters would pump them full of Viagra before arriving to keep their dicks hard the whole time) with his balls tied and his hands cuffed and attached to his chest with a harness that included nipple clamps, a very well crafted homemade piece from what I overheard other masters saying.

Another slave, an Asian twunk owned by an Asian muscle daddy, was in chastity with a blindfold on, requiring him to trust his master to lead him around. There was a Latino with a collar and leash and a buttplug with a black tail, his dicklet too small to bother caging, I assumed.

The most puzzling to me was a 5’10” Latino twunk master guiding a white 6’4” hunk slave around by a metal leash attached to his cock cage. He held his phone in his right hand and the cage leash in the left, tapped on his phone and the slave’s knees buckled as he moaned slightly.

“Bluetooth buttplug,” Alex told me, seeing my eyes locked on them.

The outfits of the masters were all different in little ways, but not enough to focus on. My eyes were scanning the slaves in the room as Alex led me to the next “installation,” imagining how I would dominate them if I were that type, and also recognizing that among all the masters here, and there were a lot of sexy masters, my owner was the most attractive by several leagues.

We walked up to a short white twink with a shaved head and a large tattoo across his chest reading “I’m a Proud Faggot Bitch.” Under that, an even larger tattoo proclaimed, “Property of Sung.”

I didn’t like the shaved head of the twink, and Alex told me and Jae that he didn’t, either. He also said the tattoos were gaudy overkill.

The twink was bound at every joint of its arms and legs by a mixture of  leather straps connected to the ceiling and floor with chains, thin black cords and near invisible string like those that would be used to make a stage actor look like they were flying. Its dicklet was made into even less than a nub,  inverted by a tiny cage that made its rather average-sized balls look absolutely massive in comparison. The legs were pulled back slightly at the top and then bent completely toward the ceiling at the knees, ankles bound so the soles of its feet were facing up. 

The arms were bound more uniquely. The left arm was out at a 90 degree angle from the body, bent another 90 degrees up at the elbow with the wrist bent down in a stereotypical gay limp wrist. The right arm was pulled back at the shoulder and the elbow bent up and back to the front. The hand was tied up and into a peace sign. The artist had put fluffy pink bunny ears on its head. It was smiling, though it looked more like a grimace at this point, showing a few missing teeth and all the others in bad shape.

The plaque next to it read:

The Happy Bunny

Artist J.D. Sung

Medium: Chain, leather, chords and strings on YT stock aged 27 years, locally produced with ancestry of eastern Europe

Slave answers to BoBo

Alex and Jae agreed that humiliating and even sometimes branding a slave could be a fun and effective way to maintain control, though Alex said it wasn’t typically his style, but that they felt this piece was too much. 

“The artist might have gone too far with this one,” Jae said. “At least for this gallery and audience. With how literally every other piece in here is a higher class representation of our community, I’m surprised they let this trash get submitted.”

Alex reached out and ran his hand across the slaves bald head.

“It’s not even an attractive piece, especially not attractive enough to use as a medium,” Alex said, insulting the slave to its face and ignoring its sentience even as he flicked its ear.

It was true. The slave looked like he’d probably been on some pretty hard drugs that he started early in life. Alex had told me previously that that was how some men found their way into slavery to a dominant master. They needed stability and an iron fist to keep them alive and healthy. Maybe that was the story of “BoBo” the white trash slave.

We didn’t linger there as we had at the Aztec Chandelier. As we walked around to look at more and more of the specially curated pieces, the scene was growing more actively sexual. While walking back past the Aztec Chandelier we saw a black slave in a leather mask that covered all but his eyes and mouth sucking the Latino’s massive dick and jerking his own while the master, a young Latino hunk, took a video of it on his phone and rubbed at his bulge through his dress pants with his free hand.

Another slave, a white, was walking around behind his Latino with a fresh load of cum all over his face. On second glance I decided it had to be at least two fresh loads. Whether it was put there by masters, art pieces, service tops or any mix of them I had no way of knowing.

By the time we had been at the gallery for 20 minutes, the crowd had grown to about 200 masters. I saw one leading five slaves around on a single leash that split to attach to each of their collars. The oldest man there by far, an Asian master in his 70s, was being pushed around in a wheelchair by his middle eastern slave, or “arab” slave, as I heard some of the masters describe him while giving the owner compliments.

The third piece we stopped at was a popular one. Hidden behind a large support pillar, I hadn't noticed it when we first walked in. The piece was a white service top slave strapped to a machine bound to the slave at the thighs and hips with a plate at the ass that thrust its hips forward and back, its upper body tied to a post, and a black slave tied and hanging face up by its ankles and wrists at the perfect height to take the white dick, its own now-useless sex organ held in an ornate gold chastity cage with a lion’s head for the tip.

This one, “The Reversal,” had a paragraph of information on the plaque that gave the backstories of the two slaves who had been in a monogamous relationship where the black was the top to the white before the white ended up cucking the black “as it should have with its Living Asian God of Sex and Slavery, Takahaya,” leading to a crisis in the relationship. The black and white agreed they would stay partnered as the slaves to Takahaya because they were in love but “the white could not resist the control of his God nor could he return to being penetrated by any non-Asian again.”

It noted that a year ago, the master had removed the white’s chastity cage and upgraded the black’s to the ornate piece it wore now before he ordered his slaves to reverse the sexual roles they had before their slavery as a way to reinforce that they may be in love with each other but were owned, willingly and unconditionally, by any Asian men.

“The black’s mouth is free to use for any Asian master or uncaged Asian slave, but other races are asked not to partake to further reinforce the master’s right to ownership by way of racial superiority. Please cum in the art’s mouth and not on it to preserve the artist’s vision.”

Reading it made me feel hot physically. I could tell by the bulge in Alex’s dress pants that he liked it too. He rubbed at his obvious erection before stepping up to the black and pulling his cock out. The black, whose head was hanging back limply, opened its mouth and Alex began fucking it’s throat to the laughs and cheers of the 20 or so masters watching. 

While I had already accepted the raceplay dynamics of my relationship with Alex, it still felt incredibly uncomfortable to hear some of the things I heard and read some of the things I read. While most of the men present opted for more sophisticated-sounding racial descriptions, the use of the N-word from some of the masters encouraging Alex to use its throat made me recoil in surprise. 

I had to remind myself a few times that everyone here was vetted and known to only participate in consensual slave-Master relationships and that every slave here knew that raceplay was a large part, if not in some cases the primary or only part, of their relationships. But being consensual did not make it less offensive to my modern American sensibilities.

I forgot about all of it for a moment, though, as I heard Alex let out an animalistic moan and watched him dump a load in the unnamed black slave’s throat.

He put himself back together, tucking his shirt in and redoing his pants and belt, then walked back toward me. Looking around the room he decided it was getting too crowded in the main gallery.

“We should explore the rest and come back in here a little later,” Alex suggested to Jae.

The younger of the Asian masters nodded in agreement and they walked leading us slaves through a door opposite the one we walked into. The room there had more exhibits and a sign that identified the 20 or so pieces as amateur art submitted for the show. None of these were quite as intricate. One was a white twink sitting in a transparent box in the fetal position without any room to move. 

There were a couple of slaves in large standing cages, one a middle eastern chained up and the other a Latino dancing seductively to house music played from a speaker in the cage. Honestly, a lot of these were more interesting to me. None of them were as complex as Aztec Chandelier or The Reversal and in many cases the slaves used as a medium in the art were considerably less attractive than the majority in the curated collection, but these installations weren’t all about bondage and ropes and chains and slaves tied to the ceiling, which offered a nice variety.

The area had about 20 or so other masters, including the one with five slaves, walking around.

“Are these interactive, too?” Jae asked.

Alex told them they were as he walked up to the cage with the middle eastern hunk and reached through to yank on its dick. It yelped in response but didn’t protest. He played with its balls a little, too, and then moved on.

One Asian twink about two instillations down was standing with his hands cuffed behind his back, his legs spread and chained to the floor and a bottle of lube and a bowl with a single key on a podium next to him. Alex scooped the key out and used it to unlock the cage while the twink smiled at him.

“I’m gonna make this one cum,” Alex announced to Jae who, as I’d grown to expect of him, laughed in response. Alex told me as he moved to unlock the chastity device to kneel and watch, so I did.

Alex removed the cage and the twink sighed. He started by fondling it’s balls with one hand and teasing its nipples with the other as he watched its duck grow to a respectable 6.5 inches. Seeing he was fully erect, Alex shifted his hands from balls to dick and nipples to reach under the legs and tease its hole.

The twink moaned as Alex played with its body. Another Asian master with a white slave walked up to stand next to me. He pulled his cock, about the same size as the art pieces, put and had his slave get on his knees and suck.

The twink, a cute slave with red hair, a clear complexion and a plastic dick cage was sucking vigorously. Alex stopped what he was doing just long enough to get lube, then applied it to the dick and hole he was playing with.

The Asian slave, in staunch comparison to the emotionless faces of all the art in the main gallery, was smiling and panting, its head thrown back. Alex leaned down to start kissing its neck while he played with its dick and hole.

I saw out of the corner of my eye the master next to me petting his slaves head. The slave was moaning contently as he sucked and slurped and deepthroated the Asian cock in his mouth. Meanwhile, my Master was picking up the speed as the art’s moans grew more intense and its body started to shake.

Alex stopped suddenly, pulling his middle finger out of the art instillation’s hole and releasing its dick. The slave groaned in frustration and looked at my Master with pleading eyes and a coy smile.

“Jackson, come here,” Alex called.

I stood and walked up to stand next to him.

“Get on your knees here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor directly in front of the art, “and when I start fucking it I want you to suck it’s dick. It doesn’t count as anything since this is just a piece of art. It’ll be the equivalent of sucking on a dildo.”

A thrill ran through me. I understood and was mentally working to embrace the logic that because this was a slave, not a person (and a slave being used as art, nonetheless), that it didn’t count as me sucking on another man’s dick. But I was still excited. As satisfied and sated as I was with Alex’s cock, there was still a small piece of me, one that was easily ignored and I knew was unimportant, that wanted to have sex with tons of men.

Alex looked at me with a testing gaze, as if trying to determine if I could handle the logic he’d explained. I doubled down on my control of my own perception of what was about to happen. Satisfied by my expression and body language that I was successful in molding my mindset to his, Alex stepped behind the art and grabbed its hips.

I opened my mouth just a little in preparation. I was sucking on the equivalent to a dildo. I was able to mold my beliefs to the same. But I was still excited. Even if this was just like sucking on a dildo, it was a new experience. There was something additionally taboo about being a slave sucking the dick if a slave being used as what was essentially a living statue while my master fucked it. The fact that it was in front of all these other men. The way this slave was here and dehumanized and, in his role as owned property on display, universally consenting to be used, enjoyed, abused or played with by anybody and everybody here just threw me through a loop of horned up excitement.

I watched as Alex pulled the hips back slightly and then dove down on the dick the moment I heard the twink slave moan. Right away I went to work, swirling my tongue and bobbing my head. Because of all the throat training I’d done with Alex every morning, this was incredibly easy. The dick on the art was considerably smaller. It tasted of lube as I slurped on it, but it wasn’t an unbearable taste. Just the fact that I was doing this was such a huge fucking turn on.

Alex had his hands on the slut’s hips and his pants around his knees as he drilled the slave, causing it to moan louder and louder with each thrust. I could feel the power of my Master’s fucking through the dick in my mouth. He wasn’t holding back. Every thrust from him sent the dick into my throat and every time he pulled the twink pulled back slightly, I knew longing to keep that perfect cock all the way in his ass.

The dick in my mouth twitched each time Alex thrust into the hole and hit the twink’s prostate. I could tell by how the moans were becoming strained that it was doing all it could to hold back from unleashing a torrent of cum into my mouth. 

“May I?” I heard a strong voice ask to my right.

I was a little startled when a hand touched my head but relaxed as it started petting my hair. I looked as far to my right as I could without moving my head to see a Latino man in a suit standing next to me. He was watching up close as I obeyed my Master as he used another slave’s hole.

“Swallow when it cums,” Alex ordered me, sensing as I did that this art installation wouldn’t last much longer.

And we were both right. A few seconds later, hot, thick, acidic, bitter and slightly sweet cum washed over my tongue and into my mouth. I swallowed shot after shot until finally it was done unloading in my mouth. Alex pulled out of the hole and told me I could stand up. When I did, I found myself standing next to a handsome, light skinned Latino master with well groomed, short facial hair. He smelled like my Master’s Royal Water perfume. 

“How was it?” the man asked. 

At first I thought he was talking to me, then Alex answered.

“It was great,” Alex said, walking past me to the bowl where the dick cage and key had been deposited. He picked them up and turned to the slave, looking at its still semi-hard dick. “This one yours?”

The Latino man smiled and nodded.

“My new head slave, Gabriel,” the man answered. “And you’ve got a new one, too, I see.”

Alex was in the middle of grabbing the slave’s balls as he spoke.

“Yep, this is Jackson,” he told the man as he suddenly squeezed the slave’s balls. It’s scream of pain competed in volume with Alex’s next words. “He’s my boyfriend and new head slave.”

I watched, feeling sorry for Gabriel, as Alex continued squeezing its balls until its dick had deflated enough to reinstall the cage. 

“Jackson, this is Luis,” Alex said to me.

I thanked whatever deity is in the heavens for reminding my to bow as I lowered my head.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” I said.

Alex gave a chuckle. He’d never told me to say anything like that.

Luis reached up and grabbed my face with one hand, giving me a start before turning my head side to side with a firm grip on my jaw.

“He’s a real beauty,” Luis said.

“Thanks,” Alex responded as he finished reattaching the cage to Gabriel’s dicklet, turning it into a nub.

In what I was quickly learning was a rare event among slaves but was common, as far as I was concerned, I was included in the conversation. Luis asked me, not Alex, how we met and why I decided to become a slave. That was a hard question to answer. I told him there was just something alluring about being with Alex, and adding onto it the social taboo of slavery made it irresistible. I told him I didn’t know if I would have ever even given the proposition a second of thought before shooting it down, had it come from another man.

“Can I check out it’s nub and hole?” Luis asked Alex.

“His nub and hole,” Alex corrected politely. “To strangers here he’s definitely nothing more than a slave, but to people he’ll be seeing more of after this he’s a sort of dual it-he. And yes.”

I stiffened in surprise as Luis, a big smile on his face, immediately reached out and grabbed ahold of my balls and locked dicklet firmly, though not hard enough to cause any pain, and rolled my balls around in his hand. I could feel my whole body blushing.

“Apologies,” Luis said with a chortle. “His nub and hole.”

“Just no putting anything in him,” Alex said as Luis let go of my balls and cage.

The handsome Latino man walked around behind me, grabbed my cheeks and massaged them.

“A good quality bitch, for sure,” Luis complimented my Master. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.”

I turned a deeper red at that. Then blushed even more as Luis pried my asscheeks apart and crouched down behind me.

“And just how do you keep his hole so tight with that monster cock of yours?” Luis asked.

Alex chuckled at that.

“I don’t use his hole every night,” Alex answered. “You should see Houseboy’s, though. I’m gonna have to give him a break and let him tighten back up soon.”

Keeping my eyes in front of me and trying to stop my knees from shaking at the humiliation of being inspected in a way that made me feel like livestock, I almost fell over when I felt a thumb lightly graze my hole. When the thumb came back again and lingered, I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. I hadn’t ever been so embarrassed in my life. And yet, I was incredibly turned on by the molestation to which my Master had consented on my behalf.

The thumb pushed lightly, testing the elasticity of my hole, but Luis respected my Master’s boundary and didn’t go inside of me.

“Fuck,” Luis said. “What I would give you to eat this ass.”

“Not happening tonight,” Alex said. I could tell by his voice that he had that amused smile I’d seen so much of.

When Luis broke contact with me, I exhaled and realized for the first time I’d been holding my breath. The two masters laughed at me for a second then went back to catching up among themselves.

I looked over at the Asian slave on the pedestal Alex had just fucked the cum out of. He looked so relaxed, a dreamy, distant gaze in his eyes and a contented smile on his face. Probably still enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm, even after the interruption of my Master crushing his balls to make him flaccid enough to have his dicklet re-confined.  

Alex and Luis talked a few minutes more, then Luis said he was going to the main gallery and they agreed to catch up again soon. 

Alex took me by the shoulder and led me along. I noticed that while Alex and Luis were having their conversation, Jae had wandered off. Caden, though, was still only about 10 feet away, on the floor getting throatfucked by an Asian master who had his white slave pinning Caden to the floor by his shoulders.

“Wait–” I started to say in Alex, confused.

“His black wristband means any man in here can use the slave however he wants, whenever he wants, as long as Jae isn’t using it,” Alex said, guessing my question accurately. “A man could literally walk up to Caden while it’s standing next to Jae and fuck it or beat it or feel it up or whatever. When that man is done using it, Jae’s slave can go find him.” 

I noticed that without Jae around, Alex referred to Caden as “it” in a departure from previous conversations. Curious though that was, I quickly came to the estimation that it was because Caden was currently wearing the black wristband.

Alex guided me away by the leash as I looked over my shoulder to see the adorable twink gagging with tears in his eyes as the Asian man spat on him before I turned my attention back to where we were heading.

When we walked up to the slave dancing in the cage, Alex read a sign next to a box on an adjacent table for a second then dropped my leash and picked up a slip of paper, a pin, and an envelope from the table. He wrote his name and phone number down, then put the slip and a $100 from his wallet into the envelope, sealed it and put it in the box.

“What was that?” I asked, standing where I couldn’t read the sign.

“It’s being raffled off for a night,” Alex said, gesturing toward the dancing slave. “You put your contact info and $100 in an envelope in the box and then the winner will get a call either tonight or tomorrow and arrange a date when he’ll own this one for 24 hours.”

Looking over the twink I got excited. I’d love to see my Master play with it, then realized that it was possible he would only own the slave as a dancer for the 24 hour period.

“If you win, will you have any limits to what you could do?” I asked Alex. “Or just make it dance for you?”

Alex looked at me with that amused smile that made my heart flutter. Like he was looking at a pupil who had asked a question silly to the well initiated but clever for the novice.

“Anything I want, as long as I don’t damage it,” Alex said, his tone further emphasizing his approval at my question. “Why? Still getting jealous sometimes?”

I blushed. The real answer to that was something I didn’t think I’d ever have to admit, but I couldn’t imagine lying to my Asian God.

“No, Master,” I said sheepishly, looking down at my bare feet and wiggling my toes a little, trying to focus on how the cold, polished concrete floor felt instead of how embarrassed I was to admit my actual thoughts. “I think it’s a cute slave and it’d be hot to watch you use it.”

“Aww,” Alex said in a facetious mocking tone. “My little slut’s grown so much already.”

That made me blush deeper as I fidgeted with my hands.

“Come on, let’s keep going,” Alex said, reacquiring a grip on the leash connected to my collar. “I wanna check out that black piece with all the stuff attached to it.”

We walked up to a very dark black man, shaved all over and wearing a dizzying number of accessories and items. It was sitting in a chair in a cage, a fuck machine pistoning a dildo in and out of its ass through a hole in the seat. It’s dick was flaccid, about 9 inches, with a Prince Albert. Wires were attached to it’s dick, balls, abs, chest, arms and legs, running to a machine. In a pattern that I was quickly able to discern, the hunk would jerk or convulse slightly. Around its neck was a shock collar, and it was blindfolded.

“See, this is a fun way to humiliate a slave through art,” Alex said. “Not that white trash in the main gallery. Plus, he’s a cutie. Especially those little grunts every time he gets shocked.”

The plaque next to this one read:

Alonzo Gutierrez

“Dark Lightbulb”

Mixed Medium applied to black, aged 28 and imported from Nigeria

Slave answers to “Eddison”

A description underneath the identification each piece had next to it told the viewer that “Number 4” moved to the U.S. to better “its” life and started a relationship with its master while they were both vanilla. They decided to play with power dynamics once and only in the bedroom and it quickly snowballed into a 24/7 lifestyle.

Alex walked around the piece, watching the fuck machine for a minute and examening the slave’s face before declaring, “It’s a shame I can’t see its eyes. It really is a cute piece of ass.”

We kept explored the amateur exhibit a while longer, pausing to admire a middle eastern stud with icy blue eyes strapped onto a tilting table set at a slight angle, its body painted in dark blue, light blue, silver and black to outline its muscles with a stripe of each along the top of its dick shaft. The plaque next to it confirmed my suspicion that the artist had pumped his slave full of Viagra to keep it hard throughout the whole exhibition. Alex also stopped to taunt a fat slave without anything binding it in place and degrading writings across its body in marker.

A sign hanging above it read, “Degradation kink. Get the slut sexually frustrated for its owner by saying and writing insults on its body.” 

Alex called it a stupid, worthless, fat, piggy, white trash whore, laughed as he saw its small dick harden, wrote “DON’T BULLY ME I’LL CUM” across its face, spat on it, told it it would never amount to anything more than a stupid, ugly whore and then we moved on. 

“I’ve never been into that type of degradation,” Alex said as we walked on. “Doesn’t really do anything for me, but most of the insults on its body were in the same handwriting, which means its owner wrote them. It wasn’t getting a lot of attention. Felt kinda bad for it.”

I nodded knowingly, not really sure how to respond. As guests started filtering into the amateur exhibit, Alex led me back into the main room. We walked over to the two blacks, the light skinned and dark skinned. The light skinned one was was bound by ropes that kept its arms and legs spread in an X position and the dark skinned one had its arms bound to its sides and its ankles tied together, a rope from the arm bindings connecting it to the ceiling and keeping its feet mere centimeters from touching the floor. 

Both had huge flaccid dicks. The plaque identified both of them as part of the same piece, “Milked Dry,” and said they’d been attached to sucking devices for two days straight to make sure they were incapable of getting hard. Looking closely, I could see where the lighter skinned’s dick was raw from the constant suction and stroking. 

I looked up at Alex with puppy dog eyes. I really liked the light skinned one, with its cute face, sexy smooth body shaved completely smooth, dyed blond curly hair and light brown eyes. 

“Can I touch the lighter one, Master?” I asked softly. 

Alex looked down at me and laughed at my obvious begging.

“Sure,” he said softly enough that only I could hear then, louder so others could hear and pointing at the slave I wanted to check out, ordered me to “go play with that one.”

I bowed my head to Alex then stepped up onto the platform where the slaves were on display, a little smile on my face that I couldn’t hide. I walked up to the black slave and looked it in the eyes, hoping it silently understood I was looking for consent. Breaking character in a way I was sure would get it punished if caught, the slave gave me an almost imperceptible smile and winked before going back to a stone-faced existence and staring straight ahead.

Satisfied that it was OK with me exploring and playing with its body, I slowly reached up and placed my hand on its muscled chest. I was so immediately hard in my head, even if my dicklet was incapable of displaying any physical manifestation. I gave the firm, smooth, warm pectoral a squeeze, then traced my hand over to the other one. To my right, an Asian master was stepping up to the darker slave and spat in his hand before grabbing its overly sensitive 9 inch dick. It let out a whimper and grimaced. It made me a little uncomfortable, so I turned my full focus back to my gentle exploration of the lighter slave’s body.

I flicked its left nipple a little, earning me some appreciative soft moans, then felt down its abs. They were so solid and the feeling gave me butterflies almost as strongly as I got when feeling, licking or kissing Alex’s abs. Something about the taboo of touching this helpless slave’s body, even with its little smile and wink of permission, made me giddy. It also made me once again aware of my own nakedness, realizing that just like the piece of art I was playing with, I was fully exposed to too many strangers for me to count. 

But that didn’t deter me. If anything, I found myself getting a sort of exhibitionist excitement from that. My sexual mind was in full sensory overload by the time I caressed the slave’s pelvis. I could feel a constant stream of precum leaking from my useless caged dicklet. What about this was so exciting to me? I couldn’t feel the pleasure of fucking the slave. It was almost a guarantee that I would never know what it felt like to top, and I knew and had, at least mostly at this point, embraced that. I would still from time to time find myself looking down at my nub and feeling a sense of loss for the experiences I would never have, but at the same time the loss of those experience was insanely erotic because they were a demonstration of my dedication to Alex. Why did I need to top when I could get all the pleasure I needed to sustain myself through the act of serving, submitting to and worship my Master?

But as I grabbed ahold of the slave’s dick, thick and soft and warm and velvety to the touch, I had the smallest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Alex would one day order me to get fucked by a dick like this. It was, as he’d said already, essentially just a dildo, right? Maybe I’d even one day get to feel this slave’s dildo-equivalent dick in me, getting to look up into that gorgeous face while my Master, the man I loved, fucked Armando’s throat as he watched me get pounded. Of course, in my fantasy scenario (which I recognized as a 99.9% chance it was only ever going to be a fantasy), I had to be ordered by Alex so he could watch for his own enjoyment. As a ran my hand down the soft dick I realized that Alex had made himself such a holy power in my life that I would feel guilty, even sinful and unworthy of my Master’s ownership and affection if I even imagined a scenario in which I was committing a sexual act without his orders or for my own pleasure. Even in this exploration of the slave’s body, I would have been paralyzed by guilt if I didn’t ask permission and know that Alex was getting off on watching me play with it.

When I reached the area just below the head, which had the most sign of sensitivity I loosened my grip and grabbed the base of its cock, preparing to skip over that portion, but the slave, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him, whispered, “please, hurt me there. I like it.”

So I gripped more firmly, hoping Alex’s sadistic side would enjoy the show, and dragged my dry hand across the raw part of the slave cock. It grunted, gritted its teeth and closed its eyes. Just like the time I’d been ordered to dominate Armando, I found myself understanding a little bit more about what Alex enjoyed. I had a little bit of a sadist in me, too. The twisted face of the slave was so hot. So I ran my hand back the other way and it actually yelped. When I started slowly moving my hand back down the length of the shaft, its cock actually started trying to get hard. Look back up, though, I saw a single tear falling from its eye and couldn’t take the thought of hurting him anymore.

Him anymore, I realized I’d thought. Not it. Suddenly the slave was rehumanized in my mind, though only to the point that I humanized myself and Armando as slaves to Alex.

I let go of the cock, watched it flop back down with a slight arch now in the center from its attempt to get hard, and cupped its balls. The slave jerked a little, making me realize his balls had probably been tortured quite a bit while he was on display. But he also moaned. So I gripped them a little tighter, rolled them around in my hand. His dick rose ever so slightly more as he shook as much as his bindings would allow, but then it gave up and started deflating again.

Letting go of the balls, I knelt down and grabbed the dick, laying it atop my head (hoping to give Alex a little laugh) and marveling at its weight as I rubbed the slave’s inner thighs down to his calves then over to top of his feet before tilting my head upward so the dick rested across my face and standing up and letting it slink off and fall back to its natural flaccid position. 

Worried I was taking too long, I looked behind me to see Alex with his cock and balls out, holding his shaft up while burying some random Asian slave’s face in his balls. I looked at the slave’s wrist and saw a black band before I moved around behind the art slave. Behind him now, I reached around and again grabbed his pecs and ran my hands down the length of his body. He sighed as I did it, then moaned a little when I brushed over his dick.

Turning my attention to the back, I started at the top of the slave’s shoulders then felt my way over the well toned muscles to his dimpled, firm ass. I squeezed each cheek before spreading them and looking at the slave’s hole. It was puckered tight. He’d obviously not been used recently, or else was a service top. Which, seeing how massive his dick was, I could imagine. Surely there are dominant bottom slave owners (though I hadn’t even thought of them existing until tonight) out there who like to have a big dick fucking them. Maybe this slave was one of those big dicks that fucked his owner. 

Still, I wasn’t going to waste the carte blanche I was given by my own owner to play with this gorgeous slave’s body. I let go of his cheeks long enough to wet my middle finger with spit then, reached down and shoved it in. The slave let out a moan audible to anybody nearby and looked to Alex, a little nervous at first but relieved to see the aroused look on his face as he yanked the “anything goes” Asian slave back by the hair and shoved his dick in its mouth. 

Taking that as my Master’s approval of my actions, I began probing around until I found the black slave’s prostate. Every muscle in his body constricted when I found and immediately started massaging it. The poor guy was enjoying it but was so cum-spent he couldn’t even produce precum.

I was no expert at prostate massages, but if the slave’s reaction was any indication I was at least naturally decent at it. I reached between his legs with my free hand and grabbed his balls and squeezed without any warning. He let out a cry and I felt his hole tighten, but I also saw his limp dick twitch a little so I squeezed again, not for a second stopping the constant stimulation I was forcing on his g spot. I played around like this for a few minutes until I got bored then pulled my finger out and walked back around to the front of the slave. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and looked toward Alex, making kissy lips and raising my eyebrows in question.

Alex nodded, so I pulled the slave’s face down to mine and planted my lips on his. He opened his mouth to let my tongue in and I explored him for a whole minute before letting him go. I turned back to look at Alex. He had a devious grin on his face as he nodded his head slightly down and made another kissy face. It took me a second to catch his meaning but when I did I was shocked and it showed in my expression. My Master’s devious smile grew wider and he nodded in confirmation. So I knelt down in front of the slave, picked up his dick and kissed the head as if I were kissing his mouth for a few seconds before looking back to Alex.

My owner’s eyes shown with lust and sadistic amusement as he opened his mouth a little bit and rapidly moved his head back and force twice to imitate a blowjob. Nervous now, partially because the slave’s dick was so big and partially because I realized suddenly didn’t know if I really wanted to suck a non-Alex ever again, I hesitated. But my Master mimed a blowjob again so I took it now as an order instead of a suggestion of something I could do for fun, if I wanted.

That made me feel a little better, but as I turned back to the dick and parted my lips to take it into my mouth and, if I could manage, my throat, I still felt a little apprehensive about what I was doing. Was my excitement at getting to play with this twink slave’s body a betrayal of my master? Would my actions in light of that enthusiasm damage the purity of my service to Alex. As I felt the large, soft head touch my lips and opened my mouth wider, already knowing my jaw would be aching in a matter of seconds, I told myself that my unease at the thought of losing my status as a sex slave pure in the eyes of my Master and God meant I wasn’t losing it.

Instead of focusing on my worries, I turned my attention to soaking in how the big black dick in my mouth felt. And it was heavenly. Realizing I’d just thought that, I pulled myself off the dick and quickly glanced back at Alex to see him really powerfucking the slave twink’s throat before going right back to it. I took the black dick as far as I could, knowing that it wasn’t a perfect blowjob every time he jerked because I scraped my teeth along his shaft but also remembering that he liked the pain in his dick and deciding that it was OK.

I got more than half of him in and down my throat, my eyes open and watering but my whole body desperate to feel the smooth, shaven pubic area on my nose and his balls on my chin. I started to gag and choke, but I didn’t give up. Somehow it seemed like his dick being flaccid made it harder to fit him all down, not that I knew for sure. Alex’s perfect cock was too big for me sometimes and even it wasn’t this long. But I was determined, so I doubled down my efforts. Without withdrawing from my work at all, I changed my angle. I was able to fit a little more down my throat and finally felt the slave’s big, heavy, swinging balls brush against my chin. It wasn’t enough, though. I shut my eyes tight and clenched my fists in determination and kept trying. I was running out of air now but I didn’t care.

“You can do it, you little whitey faggot,” I heard Alex yell at me, his combination of combined degradation and encouragement. “You’re either gonna swallow that slave’s whole dick or you’re gonna pass out trying.”

That pushed me just enough and I started swallowing hard and fast, encouraging the slave’s dick to slide down my overstretched throat. I gained a centimeter, then another, then another. Finally, I ran out of dick to swallow. My nose wasn’t touching his pelvis because of the angle, but I felt a surge of pride overtake me. I held it there even though I knew I couldn’t go much longer without a breath because I wanted to make sure Alex saw and was proud of me, too. I heard footsteps coming up from behind me, two sets. I opened my eyes to look up the body of the slave, seeing his pecs and abs and his sexy face looking down at me with an amazed look in his light brown eyes, and I felt my pride swell even more. I looked as far to my left as I could without moving my head and saw the slut my Master was throatfucking kneel down and start bathing Alex’s balls again.

“That’s it slut,” Alex said. He put his hand on my head. “You boutta pass out? Maybe I wanna see that.”

I tried to grunt or moan in protest as his hand held my head in place so the slave’s cock was lodged, still flaccid but twitching I now realized, in my throat.

Alex held me there for only another half second that felt because of the panic setting in alongside my pride like an eternity, then yanked the Asian slave off his balls by the hair, told him to “get away you stupid faggot” and slowly pulled me back off the black slave’s dick by my hair.

As the dickhead was sliding out of my mouth, I noticed it was leaving behind a trail of light tasting, super watery cum behind on my tongue. Even as I collapsed to the floor gasping for air, I knew I’d made the slave cum. His master spent two days milking him to drain away any hope of an orgasm or even an erection during the show and yet my throat made his body found the ability to make him shoot a load of cum that was supposed to be non-existent. Look up at Alex and seeing his proud smile through my bleary eyes, I knew that was a real accomplishment.