The Contract

[Catchr]

I glanced at the slip of paper again as I turned left down the hall.  It was a printout of a three-line e-mail I received two days earlier.  The first line cited the address of a small hotel downtown and a room number at that hotel.  The second line contained today's date, Saturday the eighteenth.  The third line was the time - seven o'clock P.M., nearly an hour away.  It was more than enough time for me to get ready.

 

The email was from Jerry.  I'm not sure how to describe my relationship with him.  He's not my 'Daddy' and he's not really my 'Master'.  I guess it would be most accurate to describe him as my owner.  I met him when my ex did some match-making.  He knew my kinks and what an insatiable bottom I had become, and he knew what kind of relationship I wanted to explore.  Sometime after we broke up (which was on good terms), my ex contacted me and said he'd met someone who might be compatible with my desires.  Jerry and I swapped some photos, exchanged a few emails, and met for a couple of fuck sessions before I drew up the contract. 

 

Basically, the contract stated that for the period of seventeen months Jerry owned me.  I was his property - all six feet, one hundred-sixty pounds of me.  Not his 'boy', just his property.  He told me what to wear (if anything), when to sleep, when to eat, and I had to ask permission to use the bathroom.   He made all my decisions.  Most importantly (to me, at least) he owned my body.  I became nothing more than a toy for him to use for his pleasure however and whenever he saw fit.

 

As he instructed, I spent more time at his place than mine, and while in his presence was almost always naked.  In addition, Jerry forbade me from speaking without having first obtained permission.  I usually only ever spoke to answer a question or ask to use the bathroom.  Most of the time his answer was yes.  He would grope me whenever I walked past (and I would always wait until he was finished before continuing on my way), feed me his piss if he was out working in the yard and didn't want to come in, or just didn't feel like getting up, and even mounted me in the kitchen once while I was washing dishes at the sink.  I felt his hand on my ass and heard his zipper, so I set down the dish I was holding, spread my feet apart, and leaned forward so he could enter me.  With his hands on my shoulders, he rode me in silence for a few minutes, except for some grunting, and then ruffled my hair when he pulled out.  He did that a lot, and it made me feel like I was seventeen, instead of twenty-seven.

 

Friday nights after dinner, when he frequently instructed me to 'get ready for company', which I knew meant that I should wash, inside and out, and then climb into the bed in the second bedroom.  I knew to then slip my legs into a large, wide loop of fabric, somewhat stretchy, (although not as much as a bungee cord), and settle just above my knees.  Then I'd lay back and hook the strap behind my neck so it would keep my legs spread and my feet in the air.  There were two pairs of handcuffs attached to the headboard, but I could only fasten one myself.  Jerry would come in to fasten the other before company arrived.  In addition he would also sometimes affix a blindfold.

 

'Company' consisted of a few friends of his with high-stress jobs who needed some relief by the end of the week.  Not a grudge-fuck per-se, just a serious hard-pounding, heart-rate-elevating, ball-draining session. Judging from the way that some of them would collapse and melt against me after blasting like a cannon, they really needed it.  And I was happy to be of service.  His friends would stop in at other times as well. Sometimes in the middle of the week he would even call them to let them know I was there, and they would take turns using me on the living room floor.  Sometimes they didn't take turns, but just used me both at once.

 

Occasionally one of Jerry's buds would bring a friend of his own that Jerry hadn't met.  I always thought it was hot to hear his bud make introductions, and hear Jerry talk about me as though I wasn't there.  He make comments such as "Yeah, it's nice and tight, you'll love it," and "Use 'em as a urinal too, either hole.  Doesn't matter."  I found it really hot that he treated me as if I wasn't even a person, just a couple of holes for them to use.  I was a urinal, but not a toilet (no scat).  That was one stipulation on which we had both agreed.

 

But I never thought twice about spreading for any of them because I had signed a contract.  Jerry owned me, and decided who fucked me and how they could use me.  Jerry even decided whether or not they used a rubber.  He hardly ever wore one himself, and guys usually used me bare.  I assumed those guys who wrapped were poz, and in any event, every two months Jerry took me to a different clinic, and instructed me to get tested for HIV.  As this was one of the stipulations he wanted in our contract, I had no reason to object. I never actually saw the results of the HIV screening as, when the results came in the mail, I always handed over the un-opened envelope to Jerry.

 

As I had given Jerry a copy of the key to my apartment, I wasn't all that surprised when, on a few occasions, I was awakened in the middle of the night to find a strange man undressing in the bedroom of my own apartment, who explained his presence by saying "Jerry sent me."  On one such occasion I awoke when such man was handcuffing me to my own headboard.

 

I'd rub my eyes and mumble, "Oh, okay," then pull the covers back and pull my knees up to spread for him.  It always amused me how the man would instantly bone up when he saw that I understood why he was there.  And as soon as the man unloaded, he would unceremoniously dress and split, so I would just roll over and go back to sleep.

 

On this occasion I arrived at the hotel room and stuffed the note into my pocket as I turned the knob, not bothering to knock.  The door was unlocked as usual, and I let myself in, locking it behind me.  I'd unlock it again later.  I stripped, folded my clothes, and put them into a small suitcase that Jerry had left in the middle of the bed.  Then I showered, took an enema, and unlocked the door to place the suitcase in the hall outside the door.  Jerry had set up a few parties like this in hotels before.  He would send his friends to find me in the room already naked and ready for use.  Usually he was there too, but a couple of times he was absent.

 

Leaving the door unlocked, I selected two pairs of handcuffs from among the other toys Jerry had left in the room.  By first attaching them to my wrists I was also able to cuff both of my wrists to the headboard.  Then all I had to do was wait.  I lay on my back...spread...naked...watching the doorway.  The door to the hallway was out of my line of vision, but I watched the doorway to the bedroom with my heart racing and my cock so hard I thought the skin would split.  I watched the clock on the nightstand...seven thirty, seven thirty-three, seven thirty-seven.  Finally, I heard the door open slowly, and someone called, "Hello?  Do I have the right room?"

 

"Yes," I replied, as I saw him move into the doorway.

 

"Nice...!" he said with a grin as he pulled off his shirt.  He was about fifty, with a receding hairline, but in very good shape for a man of his age. Then he pulled off his shoes, and I heard the door open again.  He looked over his shoulder and called, "This is it, man!  In here!"

 

A bearish red-haired man in his forties moved into the doorway, and grinned when he saw me.  I didn't know either of them, but I thought the redhead looked familiar.  I watched them both undress, and they kept grinning at me.  Then the redhead said, "Jerry showed us a photo, but it wasn't a nude."

 

Then I extended the formal invitation that Jerry taught me was appropriate for the times that he wasn't present.  "I am Jerry's cumdump, and he's decided to share me with you for the night.  Use me however you want.  Toys and lube are on the desk, if you like.  There are only three rules...No scat.  No permanent marks.  Condoms are, of course, optional."

 

"Jerry is very generous," said the first guy, and he took the bottle of lube off the desk and handed it to his friend.  "You go first, man.  I gotta piss."  The redhead took the bottle, lubed his cock, and climbed onto the bed.  So did the first man.  Then I understood.  I tilted my head back a bit and opened my mouth as he straddled my face.  He dropped his semi-hard cock into my mouth and I started to suck.  After two or three pulls, I felt his piss filling my mouth and began to gulp.  Salty and bitter, I kept swallowing as I felt his friend lift my legs onto his shoulders and work his cock into me.  "Aw, damn that feels good.  Drink it all, kid."

 

The redhead groaned and kept pushing steadily until he was balls-deep.  Then he started a steady rhythm of fucking with my cock mashed under his furry belly, leaking pre-cum like a faucet.  I thought I heard them making out over me, but of course I couldn't see anything.  When the first guy was finished pissing, I kept sucking his cock until it got hard.  I heard movement in the room, and the first guy said, "Hey guys, c'mon in and take a number."

 

Finally, the redhead slammed into me, and I felt him shudder as he emptied his balls into me.  "Fuck!" he grunted as he pulled out and got off the bed.  

 

Then the first guy pulled out of my mouth and moved between my legs, announcing "My turn!"

 

When he moved out of the way, I could see that the new guys to arrive were three black men, all pretty fit.  I placed their ages from twenty-something to late fifties.  Jerry seemed to really enjoy watching me being used by black men.  I remember one hotel party that was all black men except for Jerry himself.  Eleven men used me that night, several times each.  I lost track of the number of loads I took then.

 

This particular party was smaller, only seven men showed up in total.  There were a few times when I was left alone in the room between men, just waiting for the next guy to show up.  One guy even walked in and didn't even bother undressing.  He just unzipped his fly, pulled out his cock, and shoved it in without any lube...not that he needed it with all the cumloads already in me.  He fucked with deep grinding thrusts, like he was trying to climb up inside me, and when he finally came, he didn't make a sound...just a kind of grunting sigh.  Then he pulled out, got up and left, slamming the door.

 

I didn't even know that the session was over until the last guy pulled out and then undid my handcuffs.  "That's it, man." he said.  "I'm the last one."  I rubbed my wrists to get the circulation going again.  As he was dressing, he explained.  "Jerry couldn't make it this time, but he gave me a letter to give you.  It's on the desk."  Then he just said, "See ya," and left.

 

I took another shower, and washed out all the cum, then went to the hall to get the suitcase.  I was glad that it was still there.  Once, the housekeeping staff had picked it up by mistake, and I had to call the front desk so they could bring it back.  I got dressed, packed the suitcase with the un-used toys from the desk, and left it at the foot of the bed.  I didn't bother making up the bed, because I knew that Housekeeping would want to change the sheets.

 

On my way out, I picked up the letter from the desk, and locked the door.  I was a little surprised that Jerry wasn't there this time, since it was the last day of our contract and his last opportunity to use me.  I figured the letter would explain.  I opened the envelope as I walked down the hall and pulled out a single sheet.  It was very short, and read:  "Steven--the seventeen months are over, and I hereby release you from your contract.  I am very pleased to have had the opportunity to own you, even for a short time, and have been extremely satisfied with your service.  I should tell you that your HIV test from March came back positive."  (It was now October)  "You may have noticed about that time I began wearing condoms when I used you.  Regardless, I will gladly provide a glowing reference to any future owners seeking to enter into a contract with you.  Jerry.   Masterful1@gmail.com"

 

I read that third sentence again.  And again.  I wasn't sure how I felt about it.  Relieved?  Glad?  Betrayed? After all, I DID give up complete control to HIM.  I gave myself up for him to use, and he did use me.  He used me and abused me, taking full advantage of the control he had over me.  That was what I had wanted.  That was what had gotten me so turned on - to be used with total disregard - however Jerry saw fit.  And apparently he saw fit to let me be used by poz men.  It must have been part of Jerry's fantasy to use a neg bottom until the bottom converted, knowing that he, Jerry, had forever changed the bottom's life.

 

Or was it?  Did he actually try to get me infected, or had it just happened...I can't really say 'accidentally', rather...un-intentionally.  I guess I wouldn't know unless I actually asked him.  I stood there staring at the note for several minutes.  Finally, I decided that I would send him an email and ask if he was interested in renewing our contract.

[roguematrix]

Very hot, loving the matter of factness of it all

[Bttm2go]

Wow, that made me rock hard.

[CHELCBBTTM]

Fuck! That was hot! What a hot fantasy to surrender completely to a man who knows a cumdump needs it all the time

[Guest sickhog]

Great start. And did you renew your contract or move on to greater things?