My Sex Slave
Interview Deep in Depth
I TOOK JUDY to her apartment and went home to jack off to the image of her butt in my head. When I woke up, I was still imagining myself sprawled between her legs. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and thought about how much better my simple drip coffee was than the espresso Judy served at Bikini Baristas. That’s something that she’d need to improve.
I had to wonder if I was serious. I wasn’t a rich man. Good income, but not the kind of wealth I figured it took to own a sex slave. I started thinking of how much she could cost and resolved to tell her it wouldn’t work when I went to see her this morning. Yes, I’d already determined I would be heading to Bikini Baristas as soon as I was sure she was there. I was sitting in the car at ten till ten and forced myself to wait until a quarter after before I drove over to see her. I was looking forward seeing that butt again. The transparent one-piece had kept my attention on her all through our glass of wine the previous day.
What was I thinking? Of course she wouldn’t wear the same outfit, such as it was, two days in a row! No. This time she was, indeed, in a bikini—made of loose knit. In fact, it was more like she cut a fishing net into shape and tied it around her boobs and between her legs. Yesterday, I’d seen her clearly but through a dark lens. Today, one nipple stuck right out through a gap in the knit. I really needed to get my hands on that. And my mouth.
“Good morning, Master,” she greeted me. “Hot, strong, and black?”
“Yes, Judy. You look yummy today.” I heard a snort from just beyond where I could see into the little kiosk.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Do you have company?”
“I’m sorry, Master. Marcella insisted on staying until she could verify you were real. Marcella, get up here and meet my master.” A tall dark woman with abundant boobs peeking out of her loose bikini top slipped up behind Judy. I thought she must have deliberately arranged the top to look like an accidental nip slip. The more accidental it looked, the more I was certain it was intentional.
“Why is it no one ever came to my shift and asked to buy me?” she said, looking at me. “I look far more like a slave than she does.”
“Which is probably why no one would dare suggest it to you,” I answered. “Are you satisfied I’m for real?”
“I see you, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying about Judy. You’re not a serial killer or anything, are you?”
“Even if I was, I would still tell you ‘no.’ You need to sharpen your investigative skills. Maybe start by asking if I prefer eating breasts or thighs.”
“Judy already told me she figured her tail was going to be dinner one night soon. I was just hoping she was not being literal.”
“Move aside, Marcie. You’re interfering with me serving my customer and master,” Judy said. Having Marcella there made it awkward to tell Judy it was no deal. I did the next best thing in my addled mind while looking at four pronounced nipples in front of me.
“Don’t cover that top when I pick you up at four,” I directed.
“Of course, Master,” Judy said. I handed her a ten and a five as a tip. Marcella waggled her tits and I handed her a five, too. Well, that was lunch for me. I did think about chewing on those nipples. The driver behind me was beginning to look impatient so I left the espresso stand.
I didn’t have a big selection of places I could take a girl who was basically topless. I spent some time driving around just looking for an inspiration. The river front looked like a good option. It was undergoing a revival restoration and the old factories and warehouses were gradually being converted to a shopping mall and restaurants. We could stop for a malt and walk on the boardwalk. That would work.
Somehow, after seeing her in that mesh bikini, all thought of telling Judy it wouldn’t work got infinitely delayed. Instead, I started thinking about making the most of this week before I had to hit the road again. I went home and fired up a graphics package on my computer, quickly designing my own version of a CAP card. (Capacity, Aptitude, and Potential—from the Swarm Cycle.) I gave myself a respectable 6.8 and Judy a 5.3. On the back of the card I printed a lot of information I didn’t really know in very small print. It included all the categories I could remember from my reading of the Swarm stories, like integrity, loyalty, sex, aggression, motherhood, and submissiveness/dominance. Of course, once I’d created all that mythical information for Judy, I had to do the same for myself. I wished someone who actually knew the stories could review it, but I was just creating something to get our conversations started.
I pulled up to the back of the kiosk at four-o-one. Judy bounced out of the door, waving behind her. A big-titted blonde came to the door behind her and waved. I’m not sure, but I think she was taking down my license number. I was more interested in the up-close look at Judy’s boobs. Even nicer than I remembered with their nipples sticking through the mesh.
“I hope your tips reflected the quality of your tits today,” I joked.
“Yeah. I made a bundle. A lot better than if I was working at TGI Friday’s.”
“It’s a family place. Yours would only be appropriate there if you were feeding your own family.”
“You mean a baby?”
“You wouldn’t even need to lift that top up to feed her.”
“I’m going to soak through my shorts,” she sighed.
“I can imagine that bikini bottom isn’t very absorbent.”
“I took it off,” she said. I snapped my eyes over to her. Don’t know what I expected to see. “They aren’t really very comfortable. Especially under other clothes.” She reached in her bag and pulled the mesh bottoms out of it to dangle next to me. I took them from her and lifted them to my nose.
“Mmm. Definitely want to smell more of that,” I said. “Did you get a chance to read any of the stories?”
“Oh, yeah. Both of them and a couple others, too.”
“What do you think?”
“So, basically, my responsibility is to be a good wife.”
“Wife?”
“Sure. It pretty well describes the role of a woman a century and a half ago. Be a domestic goddess and see to every need of my man. Cooking and cleaning don’t really bother me, you know? I’d probably get used to a baby hanging off my tits. Are you ever going to check them out? Up close and personal?”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you until we both understand it’s for real. There will be a test drive, though.” I knew the stories she had read put plenty of emphasis on the master testing the slave sexually before a commitment was made. I was looking forward to that phase.
“I should ask you if you are sponsor grade, first. Mister sir, do you have a qualifying CAP score?” I reached in my shirt pocket and pulled out the card I’d printed. She grinned as she saw the big 6.8 score and then started to study the card, squinting at the fine print. “I didn’t do that well. It’s above average, but not good enough to sponsor.” I handed her the card I printed for her and she wiggled in her seat when she saw my assessment closely resembled her own.
“Here we are. We’re going to take a walk on the boardwalk after we get a bit of ice cream. We need to talk about some serious matters.”
“That sounds ominous. You still want me, don’t you?”
“That’s not at issue.” We stepped up to the ice cream stand and the soda jerk’s eyes about popped out of his head looking at Judy’s display. “I’ll have a chocolate malt and she’ll have strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone.” I didn’t give her a chance to choose but chose the flavor at random off the menu card. She took it with a big grin. “We don’t actually have a few of the things the denizens of the Confederacy have. We don’t have replicators and med tubes. All our needs aren’t paid for by Big Brother or whomever. We need to talk about the costs involved.”
“I’m not very high maintenance. I don’t even need to wear clothes if you don’t want me to.”
“I’m sure I’ll want you naked most of the time. But there are other costs of owning a slave. What kind of health insurance do you have?” I asked. She tilted her head to catch a drip of ice cream while she considered the question.
“It’s pretty good. I joined a cooperative kind of thing when I got out of school because I didn’t like just showing up at a clinic and getting prodded by a different doctor every time. It’s pretty reasonably priced at just over $500 a month.”
“Okay. That’s $500. What about medications?”
“I’m only on birth control. And from what you’ve said, I won’t need that for long. $10 a month co-pay.”
“That’s $510. Not too bad. Car payments?”
“No. I ride the bus.” I considered that. If she was getting on the bus dressed like she was now, she’d start a riot. She’d attracted several interested looks on the boardwalk as it was.
“Credit cards? Loans?”
“I don’t have a credit card. I’m paying a hundred a month in student loans for something like the rest of my life.”
“$610. Rent?”
“I share an apartment with Marcella. That’s why she was so snoopy this morning. It’s $350 a month plus another $50 for utilities. But I won’t need my own apartment, will I?” She looked worried and I automatically reached out and put my arm around her. She caught her breath and I realized what I’d done. But once my hand was in touch with her soft skin, I wasn’t letting go.
“We want to make sure you have someplace to go if things don’t work out. Let’s say a two-month trial period. That brings it to $1010. Typical expenses? Let’s say if I spend $500 a month on food, you’ll cost slightly less because of economy of scale, but it’s still another mouth to feed. I’ll make it $400. Hmm. Add another $200 just so you have some spending money of your own. As much as I want you naked all the time, I’ll probably want to put you in some pretty clothes now and then. Of course, unlike the Swarm Cycle, you’ll still have access to what you currently own.”
“Am I too expensive, Master?” she whimpered. “$2110 a month sounds like a lot. It’s just a little less than I earn at my fabulously high-paying job as a titty barista.”
“I think it’s financially doable. I’ll need to spend some time tonight looking at what I have scheduled and see if I can optimize runs more without working myself to death. I was sure I’d be saying there was no way I could afford you by now, but I’m seeing possibilities.”
“Oh, Master, I can help cut expenses. I don’t need much.”
“I just don’t know what you’ll get out of being my slave. That’s the problem I’ve always had with this idea. It sounds like I get everything I ever wanted. We’re not under threat of being eaten by the Swarm if I don’t take you off-planet, so what do you get out of it?”
“There’s the logical surface things,” Judy said. “I don’t have to go to a job—unless you order me to. I don’t need to worry about my finances or whether I’ll make the rent this month. I don’t need to worry about dating or my future. I get a nice guy who takes good care of his possessions to take care of me. And I only have one obligation in life—to make you happy. I suppose it would be different if I had an intense ambition or creative desire. I don’t. I’m part of a generation without goals and I can feel myself slipping further and further into a meaningless existence of wiggling my ass and showing my nipples to any random guy who has ten bucks. Slavery is salvation. I get to live.”
That wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it was a lot closer than anything I ever expected. I stopped as we approached the end of the developed boardwalk along the river. I dropped my empty malt cup in a trash bin and turned to Judy, pulling her toward me. She looked into my eyes and I could see she was being honest with me. I stroked her cheek and tilted her face so I could reach her lips.
And I kissed her.
I guess that was phase one of our test drive. She passed with flying colors. Good kisser! I think we got lost in that kiss for ten minutes. I could feel her soft skin beneath my fingers and her arms wrapped around my neck. I hadn’t been kissed in a long time and it was easy to keep it going. I let one hand drift down to that big round ass, packed into a pair of short shorts and gave it a squeeze. Yeah. I think I’m going to buy a slave.
That brought me to my next issue. Human trafficking is illegal. You can’t go around buying and selling people. As Judy had described it, our relationship wouldn’t be that much different than a nineteenth century marriage. She’d join me and I’d provide all her needs. The part about her satisfying all mine on demand just wouldn’t be written.
But she was selling herself. Not like a prostitute, but as a slave. If you sell something, you should get a fair market price. What’s the fair market value of a devoted sex slave? I needed to pay her without getting her offended by it. I looked up ‘bride price’ on Wikipedia and discovered the range is huge, from a mere token to hundreds of thousands of dollars. In addition to region of the world, the price is based on both the social standing of the bride and the relative wealth of the groom. A beauty queen or famous actress, for example would command a very high price where a divorcee or woman known to be of loose morals would potentially have no price at all.
I tried looking up the cost of a mail-order bride. I mean that can’t be free can it? Sure, I’d received plenty of junk mail from ‘Alexandria’ or ‘Tammy’ looking for a long-term loving relationship. The email always came from a dude’s name and often from a web address I wouldn’t touch with a condom. What I found was costs could range from $10,000 to $25,000 with outliers, of course. But when I looked at the breakdowns, they were all acquisition costs, including dating sites, travel expense to go visit her, visas, gifts (bribes), agency expense, accommodation, and food. None of that benefited the bride or her family at all.
Family. I wonder if Judy has family we need to consider. She could have three rug rats and a dependent grandmother for all I know.
I finally decided I’d offer $5,000 to be paid in installments over two years, as long as we stayed together. If she balked at it, I’d tell her it would be paid to a savings account as if it were a retirement account. I was nearing the max on my current income. I’d finally reached the point where I was netting about $50k a year and I’d lived very simply, so I’d managed to put a good part of my income into savings and investments. This was certainly going to play a part in my life if we really did decide to have kids. They add a complication as well as an expense.
I tossed my pencil on the kitchen table where I was working. It’s unnecessary to use the adjective ‘kitchen,’ I guess, since it’s the only table in my efficiency apartment. I looked around the glorified hotel room and wondered what Judy’s reaction to it might be. And that led to me visualizing what Judy might look like kneeling on my bed and wiggling that sweet ass at me as I approached her with my cock sticking out and searching for her wet opening. I was pretty sure it would be wet, based on the scent of the bikini bottoms she’d insisted I keep. When I dropped her off at her apartment, we’d kissed again and I found the bikini top in my hands while I felt those beautiful titties for the first time. She’d decided I should have the whole bikini and slipped out of the top just before she got out of the car. I was thinking about sucking on those little brown points as I held her bottom in my hands and she posted on my cock when I came.
Damn! We’re going to need that test drive soon!
The Wednesday outfit was another one-piece. It covered her pussy, but I could clearly see she was shaved bare. From there, it widened to about six inches at her hips and had a thin strap that wrapped around the back, holding it tight. It flared up to cover her breasts, mostly, and tied behind her neck and behind her back. When she turned to show me the rear view, I could see the waistband connected to a bit of butt floss. I could see the tie that held it tight across her boobs. I couldn’t see the other tie because it was under her hair. The suit was white so the shape and color of her nipples were clearly defined.
“That will make the coffee stronger,” I commented.
“You like it? I went a little overboard in buying things to wear in the kiosk when I started,” she said.
“It shows you off beautifully,” I said.
“I wore it swimming once,” she laughed. “It disappears when it’s wet. I might as well have been skinny dipping.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing that!” I handed her a twenty and waved away the ten dollars change.
“Master, I appreciate that you are tipping the same way you would for any barista who showed you this much and tried to entertain you. But remember, soon you will be able to see this and more anytime you want. And no tipping allowed,” she said, stuffing the ten in change in her tip jar.
“That’s something new for us to talk about this afternoon,” I said. “I’ll see you at four.”
“Yes, Master.”
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
