Selling my Status… a continuation

[Jnjbarebkhusbands]

Chapter 3: The Preparation 

The message came on the morning of the seventh day. It was as terse and commanding as he was.

Address: 2247 Crestview Drive. 9 PM. Do not eat after 2 PM. Shower before you come. Use the enema in the package.
The other 40k is waiting.

Another package had arrived that morning. This one contained a specific, professional-grade saline enema kit, a fresh, large bottle of poppers, and a black silk blindfold. Taped to the bottle of poppers was a small, clear baggie filled with shimmering, crystalline shards. Tina.

The instructions were degrading, medical, and unbearably arousing. He wasn't just preparing me; he was programming me, building the chemical architecture for my own surrender.

I followed his orders to the letter. I left work early, my stomach a knot of nerves and a low thrum of excitement. At 2:01 PM, I took my last sip of water. The afternoon was an agony of anticipation. I paced my small apartment, the baggie of crystal sitting on my coffee table like a malevolent diamond. I picked it up, feeling the sharp edges through the plastic. This was the key he would use to unlock me.

At 7 PM, I began the elaborate, humiliating process. I laid a towel on the bathroom floor, my cheeks burning with a shame that only fed the growing heat in my groin. He wasn't here, but I felt his presence in every step, his approval the only thing that mattered. When I was finally, clinically clean, a hollow, empty vessel, a wave of dizzying submission washed over me.

The shower was a ritual. I scrubbed every inch of my skin until it glowed pink and sensitive. I shaved myself smooth, the drag of the razor making me shudder. I stood under the scalding spray until the water ran cold, imagining it was his gaze. I looked at myself in the foggy mirror. My eyes were wide, pupils already dilated with fear and need. My body was trembling. I was perfect for him.

I put on simple jeans and a tight black t-shirt. No underwear. Another unspoken command I felt compelled to obey. I placed the vial of poppers, the bag of crystal, and the blindfold in my pocket.

The Lyft ride to Crestview Drive was silent. This house was different from the first—a brutalist masterpiece of black steel and tinted glass, a sharp angular silhouette against the night sky. It felt like a fortress. A laboratory for sin.

He opened the door before I could knock. He was dressed in sleek black leather pants that clung to his powerful thighs and a tight black muscle shirt. He looked me up and down, a predator assessing his meal.

“You brought everything?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

I nodded, wordlessly producing the items from my pocket. He took the bag of Tina, holding it up to the light. “Good. This will help you receive your gift properly. Come.”

The interior was stark and intimidating. Polished black concrete floors, blood-red walls, and harsh, minimalist lighting. The air was cold and smelled of ozone, leather, and his dominant cologne. In the center of the vast, echoing room was a large, leather-padded medical table, equipped with sturdy straps at the ankles and wrists.

My breath hitched. This was real. This was happening.

Matt saw my look of trepidation and smiled, a flash of white in the dim room. “It’s for your safety. To keep you focused on the sensation. To keep you from running from the pleasure.” He stepped closer, his scent enveloping me. “The price is the same whether you are strapped down or not. But the experience… the experience will be infinitely more intense if you surrender to it completely.”

This was the final gate. Walking out now would mean I had humiliated myself, flushed my pills, and taken his $10k for nothing. I’d be free, but I’d always wonder. Staying… staying meant total immersion. It meant getting the full, terrifying, exhilarating value of our deal.

I looked from his intense eyes to the table. My cock, traitorous and eager, strained against my jeans.

“I’ll stay,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“I knew my boy would make the right choice,” he purred, his hand cupping my cheek. “Now, the gear. Let’s get you ready.”

He led me to a low black sofa. He prepared the pipe with an expert’s efficiency, loading a large shard onto the screen. He lit the torch, and the familiar cloud of white smoke began to fill the glass bulb.

“Inhale,” he commanded, holding the pipe to my lips. “Suck it deep into your lungs. Hold it. Let it burn away all that fear.”

I obeyed. The hit was massive, a seismic shock to my system. The rush was instantaneous—a crackling, electric current zipping up my spine and exploding in my brain. Every nerve ending screamed to life. The leather of his pants, the cold air, the sound of his breathing—it all became hyper-sharp, intensely vivid. And the hunger… a raw, animal need began to uncoil in my gut.

“Again,” he said, his voice already taking on a god-like resonance in my heightened state. He fed me another colossal hit. This one melted my bones. A dizzying, euphoric wave of pure lust washed over me. I was panting, my skin buzzing, my cock a rigid, leaking ache in my jeans.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his own eyes glittering with dark intent. He took a hit himself, holding the smoke before leaning in and sealing his mouth over mine, forcing the potent cloud into my lungs in a searing kiss. I groaned into his mouth, my hands clutching at his shoulders.

He broke the kiss. “Now, the blindfold. I want all your focus on what you’re about to feel.”

The world vanished into deep, rich black silk.