Date: Wed, 27 Mar 2024 11:08:53 -0400
From: Robert Halstead <subkodak25@gmail.com>
Subject: The Brothel Slave 14

FOURTEEN

Now, in the brothel, 53yo . . .

It's a good thing I like to read because most of the time I had nothing to
do during the day but sit around with the others, most of whom are women
ages 20-40. A couple of them started talking to me about their problems
because I could easily be a type of Uncle to them—not a Daddy, not
sexual, they know I'm gay, but emotionally. And it was good. I got to like
a couple of them real well.

As for the guys "on staff," they were youngish, well built eye candy for me
as well as for the customers—I mean clients--. Often they were on
display and guys my age would be around drooling over them. I drooled a bit
myself, of course, but they weren't the least bit interested in me.

They had to service guys like me all the time so I was just another horny
old fag to them. I realized that so I mostly kept my distance and sat
around talking to the girls who wanted advice from some kind of
uncle—that's that is was: they saw me as a friendly uncle. That makes
much more sense.

Of course, I was never on display in the lounge when customers were
there. They felt I'd bring down the property values! They kept me hidden,
but the clients were told I was available for the taking. In addition to
that there were a few who turned out to be my "regulars," several guys
older than me who could still see me as a "boy."

Once in a while I'd service a young stud who just wanted a blow job because
I was cheaper than the others. As hot as this could be, guys like that
would often fuck the hell out of my mouth and my face would be covered with
tears and snot by the time they shot their young babymakers down my ravaged
throat.

The worst thing was that the breath control guy started coming around
almost every week and I never completely got used to it. He never spoke to
me about it or asked it is was okay. He just bend me over, pulled his scarf
around my neck (they made him use that because it wouldn't mark up my
throat), jammed his not-too-large dick up my ass and start in on his
routine.

I must say that he always seemed to know when I `d reached my limit and was
about to pass out. Of course, I got more experienced at going for gradually
longer periods of time with my breath cut off and that pleased him and he'd
rate my performance with a high score. Yes, I was rated. No, I never found
out how this worked out or what my ratings were.

He seemed to like fucking me hard and rough while I was recovering from
being choked and was trying to stabilize my breath again. I don't know what
was more humiliating about it all—the choking, the fucking, or the fact
that he never spoke a single word to me all the times he came and used
me. I was just a thing for him to toy with. To tell the truth, I actually
felt sorry for the guy. I finally realized that his life was a lot more
lonely and awful than mine.

Then there was Harvey. 22 years old. Twink. Blond haired and smooth slender
body. He really wanted a Daddy and that Daddy was me. I'd baby him and toy
with him. He loved to make out with me, which obviously was a treat for me
as well. He liked to pretend he was falling in love with me—at least I
think he was pretending. The best thing of all was that I'd get to fuck him
gently and that's something I hardly ever got to do. I learned all the
things to say that helped him enter deeply into the fantasy love affair we
were having. I had to be very careful not to let myself develop any real
feelings for him because that would have turned into a nightmare.

One day Harvey just stopped coming around. I never got to find out what
happened to him. I actually hope he ended up meeting someone who could make
his fantasy come true for real for him. I must admit that I missed his
visits.

As the weeks went by and I found myself settling in. After all, there
wasn't a single thing I needed to be concerned about—real life things, I
mean. My job had always been stressful. Now there was no stress at
all. Okay, sure, some of the "episodes" I had were damned unpleasant and
even a little disgusting, but most of them were just plain boring. What I
disliked the most were the scenes when the "client" never spoke to me but
just indicated what he expected from me.

The few really kinky scenes I ended up in were enough to satisfy my own
inner desires to be treated as the slave I still hope I could become for
one Master some day. This brothel slave shit, no, that wasn't it for me,
even though sometimes I was actually able to get to subspace for some Alpha
type guy. It had to be something steady and permanent. More and more, maybe
even because of what I was going through now, I kept wishing someone would
come and want to set something permanent up.  Then it happened.

As it turned out, they (I never really found out who "they" was) were
always recording the scenes that took place here and apparently had posted
some of them to porn sites. Inevitably, someone had gotten a good look at
me and knew who I was. Someone who would remember me from my high school
and college days.

And he came here for me. He's doing very well in life. He came and made
arrangements to have an entire evening with me. This seldom happened, and I
was actually surprised, because like I'd said before, most of the "clients"
would just get dressed and leave without a word.  I could count on my one
hand the number of tricks I turned that involved affection or caring. Few
wanted to stay with me after they'd had the orgasm they paid for.

So anyway, this special client requested that I be dressed when he came to
me, and that the lights be kept low. Nothing unusual about that; some
clients weren't interested in seeing me. But this time when the door
opened, and I realized who it was, I almost fainted from shock. Instead, I
fell to the ground, fully dressed, and wrapped my arms around his legs and
began sobbing.

@@@ back then,. . .

As if things weren't weird enough with my father pimping me out, calling me
faggot all the time, and gradually making more and more demands of my free
time, he also started renting me out as a houseboy and some of the men I
went to serve that way insisted I be naked. Some of those men weren't the
kindest of all and I was getting smacked around and punished quite often
when they pretended to be dissatisfied with the way I cleaned their
houses. Needless to say, they also took whatever sexual liberties they
wanted with me before, after and sometimes even during the time I was
working for them.

More than once I was ordered to wash their kitchen or bathroom floors on my
hands and knees and this sight of me that way turned them on so much that
I'd end up getting fucked and the floors never finished getting
cleaned. And then when they allowed me to get dressed and drive home, Sir
(Dad) had something lined up for the evenings as well. This began happening
because I flunked out of school second semester of my junior year. I simply
had no time to get any work done and Sir didn't give a shit any longer.

My father (or maybe I should say "owner") never touched me sexually. He
never raised a hand to me—he had others to do that for him. But after
his friend Sal made me display my naked body to him and show him the
evidence of the thrashing I'd just received, he decided he wanted me to be
naked all the time. And that was that. It didn't matter who was
visiting—he was a local politician and had many friends and supporters
who often hung around.

I mostly tried to keep to myself, and it the truth be told, my unusual and
mostly unnatural existence was firmly forming in me the submissive
mentality that would be mine ever since. Certainly, at 20 years of age, I
had no sense of any bigger picture, but I must say that I never wanted to
resist what was happening and, in fact, there were many times I willingly
surrendered to the grooming that was taking place.

I was really upset when Sir demanded that I be naked at home. Shit. I'd go
to where he sent me to do chores for his friends and acquaintances during
the day. Many times they too wanted me to be naked. I was often regarded as
nothing more than a slave, which suited me fine. I didn't even resent the
work. In fact, somewhere along the way I learned that by surrendering and
doing what was asked of me, I found a strange kind of peace and
satisfaction.

I hated being naked at home, especially when Sir had guests. Usually,
however, he didn't invent ways for me to have to parade myself around
them. More often than not, someone who did get to see me that way would
decide to make use of me "downstairs."

I seldom had any time to spend with Clarence. I never forgot what he had
offered me but I didn't really take it seriously at the time. When finally
my father realized that I'd been seeing him on the side when I didn't have
any other assignments, he had pressure put on Clarence's Dad and I was told
that I could never see him again.

Eventually Clarence's family moved away and that was the end of what had
been such a wonderful "friendship"—if I could all it that. I was
heartbroken and showed it until my father eventually threatened me with
another "visit" from Sal—the fat bully spanker. I promised Sir that I
would find a way to get over my disappointment without having to go over
Sal's lap a third time.

Oh, I forgot to mention about the second time, the time my father had
arranged with Sal. By then the "naked" rule had been put into place, so
when my father's four buddies showed up they had ample opportunity to look
me over. I knew them all. I'd been in their houses with their sons who were
my friends. Sir demanded that I serve them drinks and snacks and this was
probably the time I realized for once and for all that this is the kind of
existence I wanted to live—a naked servant to superior men. Of course
this was also the worst time of all, thinking they'd tell their sons—my
school friends--that I had become a faggot slave. One of them actually set
it up to come fuck me on his own. Obviously, we're no longer buddies any
more. Now he despises me and is really rough with me when he uses me.

I knew what was coming that night. One of my classmates had gotten some pot
and knew I was in for a rough time so he gave me a couple joints. I smoked
them before the "festivities" began so I was good and high by the time Sal
showed up.

He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room while Sir and the other
Dads were sitting around in a circle around him. Sir summoned me and I
walked into the room with my hard dick sticking out. The humiliation and
the fear got to me and I realized in my pot-infused mind that this was the
ideal situation for a submissive faggot like me. I laid over his lap with
my dick rubbing on his fat thigh. As soon as he began spanking me I was
determined to take everything he could dish out without giving him or my
father's friends the satisfaction of hearing me beg for mercy or cry or
sob.

My resolve quickly gave way after about 20 blows and panic sent in. That
was the end of my composure. I cried and begged and screamed myself hoarse
and this time I did end up bleeding. Finally it all stopped. The only
satisfaction I got out of the entire affair was that I ended up cumming on
Sal's pants, and when he stopped beating me and made me stand, my softened
cock was dripping. As quickly as I could, I rushed out of the room and
spent the night on my stomach. The worst night of my life. So far anyway.

The men all got a good show. I don't know what happened after
that—whether or not any of them decided to make use of Sal's services
for their own sons. By that point I was pretty much out of things and just
kept making my way through what seemed like a nightmare at times that was
occasionally interrupted by a session with someone who paid for me that I
actually enjoyed.

Eventually I escaped the entire horror of it all. More about that soon. @@@

###

I LOVE IT when you write me. Share you reactions to the story with me.
Tell me about your experience, your hopes, you desires.

subkodak25@gmail.com

Please make a donation to nifty: donate@nifty.org

Here are the other stories I have posted, with the dates where you can find
them:

The first five should be read in order:

The Alex Chronicles 9/25/2022
Sweet Subjugation 1/15/2023
Brandon's Bosses 4/3/2023
Brandon's Brothers 5/19/2023
Total Subjugation 5/25/2023

These stories are stand-alone

Tommy Loves His Sub 8/17/2023
Training Toby 12/31/2023
Breaking Me In 03/10/2024