When you arrived at the hotel room to meet your master for the first time in person, he told you to get undressed down to your t-shirt and underwear and socks.
He told you to kneel on the floor. He bound your hands tightly behind your back with rope. He then told you how the session would go.
“First, I’m going to rape your wallet in front of you. Then I am going to humiliate you and break down any sense of dignity you have. Then I am going to inflict pain. You are permitted to cry during that part, but you have to keep your voice down. The pain may be severe at times, but there will not be any blood. After the pain comes my pleasure. I will either fuck you in the mouth or the ass, depending on what I’m feeling like at that point. Then you will get the ultimate reward for your service at the end. We will take a shower and you will be permitted to wash my body. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” you whispered.
He then took your wallet out of your pants. He took out a Visa card and held it up to your face and asked you, “Who does this belong to?”
“That’s right.” He took out his phone and showed you that he was opening the Uber app and adding the credit card to it.
He took out your AMEX and pressed it hard against your forehead. “Who does this belong to?”
He spent a couple minutes on his phone. You watched his muscular forearms as he was tapping away. He showed you the screen. Two round-trip business class flights to Greece and a stay at a luxury hotel in Mykonos. “I’m going to fuck my girlfriend every night and you’re paying. The total is over $15,000.”
This made you anxious and you started to well up with tears.
“I did not give you permission to cry while I rape your wallet,” your Master warned ominously.
“Yes, Sir. I apologize, Master. Thank you for using my credit card for your pleasure.”
He smirked and took the cash out of your wallet. “Who does this belong to?”
He laughed and stepped over to you, his muscular body towering over you. “Open your mouth, slave.”
You did as he commanded, and he shoved the cash in your mouth. “Do not forget. I am your owner, and not your whore. You have no control here. I am in total control of you. You are nothing but a faggot slave. The only reason you exist is to amuse me and serve me and to earn money for me. You are property. MY property.”
He gave you a little slap on the cheek. Not so hard as to be painful. But also not playful. It was a bullying sort of slap. A dressing down. He grabbed your hair and pushed your face down to the floor. “Kiss my shoes. Lick them clean. While you do that, I’m going to buy myself a new pair.”
Once he bought his new Nike runners he showed you the screen—another $300 was gone—he took a couple gift cards from your wallet and pocketed them and tossed the wallet on the floor.
He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off and laid it on one of the two double beds in the room. His enormous, smooth muscular torso looked incredible. He cracked his knuckles and stood you up.
“I am ready to move onto the pain portion. Remember, you have permission to cry...”
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