SLUTTY WHORE NEW YORK NEW YORK 02
by GWMSUB4DOMGAM
These are mostly memoirs of things I've done in the past. Timelines are adjusted and some artistic license has been applied to make the re-telling more interesting and captivating. Some things which I include in one moment of time may have happened over weeks or months, but compressing them into one moment would have been so much fun, so I re-tell it this way.
My submission started in Scotland at a pretty young age, moving to London for University. I had an opportunity to work in New York and jumped at the chance to explore America while being paid to do it. This is some of my time and memories in New York.
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I swept up my clothes and sneakers and put them in the open bag. I carried both remaining bags to the skip and without a moment of hesitation I threw both into the skip. I turned and walked back to Master Scott. His smile matched only by my own. As I reached him he held out a pair of handcuffs, and I turned, putting my hands behind my back. I felt the cold steel wrap around my wrists and the clicking of the arm as my desire was sealed.
"You are mine for the night, boy," Master Scott said in my ear.
"Yes, Sir," I said, with anticipation of what the night would hold.
Master Scott, of course, knew about Stan and knew I continued to meet Stan on a number of occasions for various photo shoots both in, and outside, of New York city. Stan also set up more "service" opportunities for me to be a naked waiter at public gallery paces and some private parties for friends of his. I really loved being naked in those situations. Some events were much more fun than others.
The Gallery and public events were typically more tame, with people "accidentally" bumping a hand into my cock or rubbing against me as they squeezed past. One or two patrons would be a little more bold and may actually caress my naked flesh, or pose for a photo or two with me, but on the whole they were pretty tame, but still exciting for me.
Things tended to get a lot more intimate at the private party events as Stan would give the hosts, and often the guests, a briefing on me before the event. As a result, I was constantly being fondled, stroked, having fingers stuck up my ass, and being deep throat kissed while I tried to serve canapes and drinks. My cock and balls were actually caged for one party, which turned out to be quite painful, and yet extremely stimulating at the same time.
I really enjoyed working with Stan on photo shoots, and took up all of his invitations to "serve" whenever the opportunity arose. Master Scott was totally fine with this and actually turned up at many of the gallery and private party events.
At the same time, Master Scott knew that I was also seeing Master Eugene, Stan's assistant and a photography and film student in his own right. All three were fine with sharing me and I was enthralled by the attention, and all of the servitude that came with it. In fact, I often wished I didn't have to work, and could simply serve 24/7/365, but the terms of my visa and contract in America wouldn't have allowed for that, so I endured work, desperate for the days work to finish, so I could rush off to get naked and used somewhere in New York City.
Master Scott traveled quite a bit, so he was not always around in New York, and I could not really travel with him due to my work, so we had more of a part time Master / slave relationship. He really liked the stories I recounted of Master Rashid in Scotland and when he was in town always insisted that I ride my bike over to his place, wearing only thin running shorts and sneakers. He insisted on this even in the rain, and I enjoyed the exhibitionism of it. He lived in an old multiple unit live/work type building space on the fourth of six floors. When I arrived he would buzz me into the building and I would take my bike to a boiler room space that doubled as a bike storage spot. I'd chain up my bike and leave my short and sneakers hidden in the room. I'd then walk naked up the stairs to his front door and would have to wait there until he decided to let me in.
I guess everyone in the building was an artist, and everyone seemed pretty laid back and cool. I was "caught" walking up, or down, the stairs on more than a few occasions by various people, including some of Master Scott's neighbors, but they didn't seem to mind at all. They just said "hi" as though nothing at all was amiss. I was initially petrified that someone would call the police and I'd end up being deported from the country, but pretty soon I was totally comfortable walking all over the building completely naked, and I didn't care who saw me.
Master Scott enjoyed "showing" me off to others. He enjoyed taking me to parties wearing as little as I could get away with in public (often just my skimpy running shorts), but stripping me naked as soon as he could and showing everyone how I would do whatever he commanded. He also enjoyed exploring just how far my submissive nature would extend by challenging all of my limits hard boundaries. I thought I had explored many of the kinks possible with my prior Masters before coming to America, but Master Scott found things I'd never, ever, contemplated.
Bottling his piss and refrigerating it, so there was always a constant supply for me to drink. Feeding me canned dog food only, in a dog bowl with piss to drink with it. Having some of his friends shave all of my hair from my body (though he did leave my eyebrows.) Face-fucking me with a dildo until I threw up, then making me lick up the puke. Having me follow him everywhere, including when he took a shit. Licking his work shoes and sneakers clean every time he came in from outside. Cleaning his restroom floor, toilet bowl and bath tub with my tongue. It seemed that every time I served Master Scott, he had devised some new and demeaning way of challenging my servitude and seeing just how low I would go. I found many of these kinks truly disgusting and difficult to handle, yet, I struggled through them and Masters Scott's pleasure and praise when I completed his every task encouraged me to take on every subsequent challenge he posed for me.
Master Scott was actually a fairly gentle and considerate lover. He always fucked me after I successfully completed one of his tasks, and I was constantly sucking him off, or licking his balls, or rimming him, or sucking his toes etc. I really enjoyed my time with Master Scott, for all of the challenges he posed, and because I basically lived naked when he was in town and I was with him, which I liked.
Master Eugene was another story completely. Almost a polar opposite to Master Scott in a sense. Master Eugene called me a few nights after we'd first met at the photo shoot and I met him at a gay bar in Greenwich Village. We had a few drinks, talked about a number of things including my past and my fantasies. We went for something to eat, and went back to his place afterwards. Master Eugene liked things rough and aggressive, which he knew I enjoyed too. He was slightly shorter than me, but very muscular and confident. He dominated me completely from the moment I stepped into his apartment to the moment he threw me out of his front door at 4 AM, naked, throwing my clothes out after me. He slapped me, kicked me, punched me, pulled my hair, spat on me, and called me names all while he was dominating and fucking me in a way I'd never been used before. I felt like a toy for his pleasure, and I was rock hard the whole time. He dragged me by may hair, arms, or legs into various rooms and different positions to give him better access to either fuck me, slap me, spit on me, or humiliate me.
Master Eugene recognized something deep down in my own psyche and he tapped into that stream of desire in a way no-one had done before. My fantasy of being a completely owned property slave with no rights and no way out. He used me brutally for around five hours and when he was finished with me, he dragged me by the hair to his front door and pushed me into the hallway of his building, naked and covered in his cum and spit. As I stood there not really believing he had just thrown me out naked, I tried feebly to cover my hard, throbbing, leaking cock with my hands, as my eyes darted up and down the hallway in fear that someone may be watching. Without saying a word, he walked back into his apartment, gathered up my clothes and threw them at me, then closing the door said simply, "I'll call you."
I dressed quickly, caught a cab home, and jerked off for the first time that evening, reliving the evening being used by Master Eugene so forcefully. My orgasm was huge, shooting well over my head, and I was totally spent.
Master Eugene ordered me to his apartment on the Friday evening at 7 PM, and when I arrived he had two university friends there also. As I walked in the door he announced "this is the slut I was telling you about."
The two young guys looked approvingly and smiled, as Master Eugene grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me down to my knees in front of his friends who were sitting on his couch. Both moved forward, sitting on the edge of the couch. Both were in their early twenties, slim, casually dressed, and cute. One was dark skinned with longish straight dark hair and deep brown eyes. The other had blond curly hair with green eyes. The dark haired, dark skinned boy on the right slapped me lightly across the face as I landed on my knees in front of him.
"Fucking faggot," he said as he slapped me a few more times.
"Hit him harder," Eugene encouraged. "He fucking loves this shit."
Within a few minutes, all three had pulled my clothes off and I was being slapped, kicked, punched, my hair was being pulled, I was being spat on and dragged around the room by my hair. All while they called me names and laughed at me. And I was rock hard and leaking the whole time. I had little time to really think about what was happening as I was being manipulated, and slapped, and pulled in three different directions all at the same time.
All three fucked me hard, spit roasting me between two while the third filmed or took photographs of the action. Master Eugene shot a huge load inside my ass, and after pulling out, then forced his cock down my throat, shooting another huge load into my stomach. His two friends, whose names I didn't know, were equally virile in their loads.
When they were done with me, Master Eugene smiled and said, "Check this out."
He grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me naked towards the apartment door. I knew what was coming.
"No way," I heard behind me.
"What if somebody sees him?"
Master Eugene reached the door, opened it, and without a moment of hesitation he pushed me out of the door into the building hallway, still naked and covered in cum, with my cock as hard as it had ever been sticking straight out in front of me.
His two friends were now laughing and giving a high five to Master Eugene.
"What a fucking whore," the dark haired, dark skinned one laughed.
"Right," the other blond curly haired one agreed.
Master Eugene grabbed the clothes that had been pulled from me at the beginning of the evening and once again threw them at me before slamming the door to his apartment in my face.
I felt used and humiliated. I felt like a whore. I LOVED IT.
Master Eugene checked in with me by email the following day to make sure I was ok, and I confirmed I was. He asked if I wanted him to go further, and I could not resist but to say, Yes Sir. I did not really know what I was letting myself in for, but Master Scott was going to be out of town for a month on business travel, and Master Eugene was keen to see me and I was keen to submit.
The next evening Master Eugene called me and told me to go to an address way up town.
"Do whatever you're told," he commanded.
"Yes, Sir," I replied dutifully, getting hard imagining what was going to happen.
"No jewelry, or wallet, or nice clothes," Eugene added. "Just enough money for your subway ride there and back."
"Yes, Sir."
It was a rainy, cold night when I left my apartment wearing and old sweatshirt, t-shirt, jeans, and an old pair of sneakers. My heart was pounding as I entered the subway station in anticipation of what would await me. When I got out of the subway station it was a really run-down, dark, and sketchy kind of neighborhood. I had never been to this part of the city. I walked four blocks to the building and went up to the third floor. I could hear music playing and voices inside. I considered backing out and going home. Telling Eugene this wasn't for me. My stomach was doing cartwheels. I'd given myself an enema and lubed my hole before leaving home but I had no idea what was on the other side of this door. To knock or not to knock. Who was I kidding? I knocked.
A few moments later I heard some sounds behind the door, and it swung open quickly with a loud squeaking noise. My mouth must have dropped in shock. Standing before me was a mean looking black guy who must have stood around six feet five and who weighed around three hundred pounds. He wore no shirt, grey sweatpants over which his belly hung slightly, and he was barefoot. I don't know what I expected, but it was not this intimidating guy.
I was about to apologize and back out of this, when he smiled, reached out with his right hand to grab a handful of my hair and almost lifted me off my feet as he propelled me into the apartment with the door slamming behind me. As I passed his massive frame, I realized that the door led directly into the living room of a small, messy, apartment, and there were nine other black guys all sitting around, drinking whiskey and beer, and smoking joints. The room was filled with pot smoke, and the smell of pizza and all eyes suddenly turned to me.
I froze. I know they were saying things, as I could see their mouths moving and I could see them animatedly getting up and coming towards me, but for some reason I didn't hear a word. I could not form any words either. My mouth was open and I was trying to speak, but nothing was coming out. I instantly regretting knocking on the door.
A sudden huge shove from the mountain of a man who opened the door propelled me into the center of the group, and within a few seconds my clothes were being tugged and pulled off me until I was naked. Fingers probe my every orifice. The tugged and twisted my hair and my nipples. The squeezed my balls. They slapped my ass. Hands were everywhere, all over my naked flesh, turning me, twisting me, manipulating me, and I had to way to resist at all.
A thick, veiny, dark black cock with a huge pink head which was dripping with pre-cum appeared before my and when two hands grabbed the back of my head, the cock was forced into my mouth and the hips began thrusting the cock deep down my throat. At the same time fingers up my ass were pummeling me, in and out at a rapid pace, only to be quickly replaced with someone's huge cock driving deep inside me.
At first I tried to resist, to prevent the onslaught, but I really had no control at all. They were too many, and too strong, and too persistent. I was manipulated like a rag doll. A doll with a cock in the mouth and ass the whole time. The cocks changed, and I moved from the couch, to the floor, to kneeling, to upside down. They handled me roughly, pulling my hair, forcing me into the positions they wanted, shoving their engorged cocks down my throat further than they could really go, and pounding my ass without mercy. From the living room, to the bedroom, back to the living room, but the fucking continued without respite until they had all satiated themselves fully. The last guy was fucking me when I was face down on the dirty carpet. He was pounding me into the ground when I felt him stop thrusting and I felt him come inside me.
It was as though my hearing, vision, and voice had switched off when I was being fucked by them. I know they were talking, ordering me to do things, and I complied to their satisfaction, but I don't remember much of what they said. I knew I had been there a long time, but no idea how long. I was sore and exhausted. My throat was raw and it hurt to swallow. My ass was burning. Even my scalp felt so tender that any movement of my hair felt painful. I hoped the ordeal was over. I heard them talking but I really didn't know, or pay attention to, what they were saying.
Suddenly the mountain man grabbed me by one arm and pulled me off the floor to my feet. As soon as I was upright he half carried, and half dragged me to the door of the apartment. Fearing I was about to be thrown into the hallway naked, I began to try to struggle and I heard myself saying "No, Please, No," though I wasn't really consciously saying this. It was a very strange situation, but I was becoming more and more scared of being naked in this strange and dangerous part of town, so far from home.
Not paying any attention to me, the mountain man threw open the apartment door and pushed me so hard out of the door, that I slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway with a loud thud. I turned, my hands covering my soft cock between my legs as the guys inside largely ignored my plight. Mountain man was no longer in the doorway and I took a few steps back towards the door, towards the guys who had just fucked me so forcefully. Was it better to return to that room, or to be in the hallway stark naked? I really was not sure in that moment.
Mountain man suddenly filled up the doorway again before I could reach it to enter. With a smile on his face, he threw my sweatshirt halfway down the hallway towards the stairs and with a sneer told me to "Fuck off, bitch." With that, the apartment door slammed closed and my heart sank. I knew I could not get back into the apartment.
I ran to my sweatshirt and quickly pulled it on and zipped it up fully. Fortunately I always wore sweatshirts which were a size or two too large for me, but still, while I could pull the sweatshirt down as low as possible, it still only reached to my upper thighs, leaving most of my legs bare, as well as my feet. The money I had brought for my return subway trip was in my jeans, which remained in the apartment. I almost felt like crying.
I slowly walked down the three flights and walked toward the street. The entry to the building had a staircase which led to the street level. I approached the top of the staircase and realized it was raining pretty heavily. I looked up and down the street, and it was dark and deserted. Suddenly I heard voices and footsteps coming down the stairs above me in the building, and despite contemplating just hiding somewhere here as I was so afraid of trying to get home with so little on, the footsteps provided more fear. I bolted down the steps, turned right and ran down the block as quickly as possible, my bare feet slapping on the wet sidewalk.
My sweatshirt became waterlogged pretty quickly, and the rain drove through my hood and ran down my naked body inside the sweatshirt. I reached Amsterdam Avenue and knew I had many, many blocks to walk in order to get back home. I was close to the Columbia University campus, but I had to make my way all the way to James Walker Park where my place was. That was a long, long, way to walk, almost naked and barefoot in the rain, but what choice did I have?
I was really cold, but I walked as fast as I could with my eyes on the ground, ignoring the few people who were on the streets that I passed. The rain and cold fortunately meant most people were not really paying attention to me, and in New York, many people ignore others anyway. I was pissed at Eugene for putting me in this position, and I decided I would not talk with him or do anything with him again. I was done. I had no idea if those guys were clean. I had no idea what diseases I may have caught. They fucked me without condoms, and came inside my ass and mouth. I could still taste their cum in my mouth and on my lips, despite the rain washing down my face. The more I thought of what they did to me, the harder my cock got between my legs, despite the cold and rain. I used my hands inside my sweatshirt pocket to push back my hardening cock and I walked faster.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I thought to myself. What makes me want to be treated like this? Why do I want to be treated like a whore?
The long, long walk gave me lots of time to reflect on my life in the UK serving Master Hugh, and Master Rashid, and a few others before coming to the USA. I wondered why I wanted, desired, even craved to be kept naked, humiliated, and used sexually. Was I just too embarrassed to admit I was gay, so I wanted someone to brutalize and rape me -- so it was not my fault. I realized it was not this, as I could easily avoid all of this suffering if I wanted to, and I told my co-workers I was gay. This was clearly what I was.
It took a very long time to walk and I was just reaching Bank Street when I remembered that I didn't have my apartment key. How the hell would I get in. I reached my apartment building and it was already light. I was completely exhausted, soaking wet, I was shivering with the cold, and I had no idea how I could get into my building when a neighbor opened to front building door to head out for a run.
"Morning," he said as he flew past me without paying any attention to my attire, or lack thereof.
"Morning,' I shouted back as I stepped into the hallway of my building. I walked up to my floor and there taped to my door was an envelope with my name on it. Inside the envelope was my apartment key with a note from Eugene.
"Great job. They loved you. Call you later. Eugene"
I didn't even think at the time how he got into my building to leave the envelope, or how he got the key, or how he knew I didn't have my key. I was just so damned happy to get into my apartment. I let my waterlogged sweatshirt fall to the bathroom floor and stepped into the shower to take a long, long, hot and steamy shower. I dried off and fell into bed.
--End
I would love feedback on this story, (or to hear from you if you are a dominant, aggressive, demanding Master who likes to keep his slaves naked and collared lol ) at ALL TIMES. GWMSUB4DOMGAM@yahoo.com.
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