Disclaimer: Please be advised that the following work of fiction contains themes of rape. Any similarity to actual characters or situations is purely coincidental. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
It’s been a few days since I owned my sex slave. I’ve used her up in every way I could think of—whenever and wherever I say so. She prioritizes me over everything, and it’s taken its toll on her own personal relationships. The boyfriend is becoming increasingly suspicious, and she’s not certain how long she can keep lying and hiding the pains in her body and her emotional trauma. She has specific instructions to deny sex with her boyfriend because he might notice the occasional reddening and light brusing on her body. I try to minimize the damages to the goods; after all, I wouldn’t want her all bruised up like a UFC fighter, bleeding and broken—no, I still want her skin smooth and overall sexy. Anyways, I told her they’d break up eventually, and I’d have to be her boyfriend for the rest of her life.
There was one fantasy that I haven’t quite turned into reality, though: seeing her in a gangbang. She begged me not to involve other men in this for fear of contracting sexual diseases, but I don’t care. Actually, I did, just not in a way that concerns her—I told my friends she’s a high-end escort and needed medical certificates proving they didn’t have any sexual diseases. They had themselves tested and gave me the results—everyone’s safe. Again, I take good care of my product!
A few days later, it was T’s birthday. Poor fuckwit hasn’t had sex in years since his girlfriend left him, so I told him I got him a hooker as a birthday gift. He was okay with everyone else sharing the hooker. T was an otaku and frequented cosplay conventions. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when he put in a special request to have her dress up in a specific attire: a white short-sleeved traditional Japanese shirt, a black hakama with red linings, and black, red, and white in-step protectors. She also had to wear matching gray and white fingerless gloves with red and black knuckle guards and a white headband tied around her forehead. I didn’t know what character he had her dress up as, but it must have been some femme fatale warrior or something.
F was a friend from high school. He’s a high school dropout born into a rich family that spoils him and enables his laziness. The guy doesn’t have a job and doesn’t intend to do anything productive with his life. The guy just streams video games all day and doesn’t even attempt to profit from it. His hygiene is terrible, and he has acne all over his face and looks more like a stinky, sweaty otaku than T.
I keep my social circle very small, so the few other friends couldn’t come due to their own busy schedules. I needed at least one more guy to make this a gangbang—I couldn’t participate, I wanted to watch. So, who else is there to invite but that guard from the office? He happily obliged, and I introduced him to my friends and claimed he was a friend from work.
We arrived at T’s house. T had just finished setting up the table, and F was just there, bingeing on the foods ahead of everyone. They saw my slave and never took their eyes off her. They didn’t expect that she was half Russian and half Filipina.
I have to give credit to her—she doesn’t act forced or suspicious at all. She greeted everyone accordingly and wished T a genuine happy birthday. She was well-mannered the entire time, like a legitimate high-end escort.
We guys had our fill of foods, but I specifically instructed her not to eat. She has to be prepared for the gangbang later, and we wouldn’t want her stomach filled with anything. Instead, we had her serve us our dishes, wash the plates, bring us beer, and all that jazz. When we finished our meal, the fun began.
We were st…