filetofish | PSLS BECAUSE GAY

Rean Schwarzer, eighteen. Who are you?

[It's you know, not a defensive or unfriendly question, he's trying to be calm even with his head pounding and his general confusion.]

You may call me Master Simon.

[Though he sounds disinterested in the prospect of conversation. Once he's input Rean's information, he turns to give him a coldly calculating look. He seems to look right through Rean, studying him top to bottom like there's not a single thing to hide.]

Stand there and undress.

[He gestures to a spot right in the middle of the floor. Rean could refuse -- but actually he can't because if he doesn't comply his body will move on it's own.]

[He does in fact try to refuse.]

What?

[Is what he says, intending to stand still but finding himself moving to stand where told and even more alarmingly starting to take his clothes off.]

What?!

[He questions again, feeling rising and abrupt panic as his body moves utterly out of his own control. His eyes are wide and he's understandably upset and scared. On top of all that's happened in his life that he's been trying not to be outwardly upset by for several weeks it has him hyperventilating almost immediately.]

All in working order, it seems. Good. Hands up, Rean.

[The order has to be followed so he doesn't pause for any potential struggle. Instead he taps a few more buttons and there's a shimmer in the air -- a pair of disembodied hands appear, holograms, and take hold of Rean's wrists. They shouldn't have a physical presence but they do, holding him standing in that spot no matter how much he might try to squirm.]

You may struggle if you wish, but pay attention.

This is "The Red Peony". It's a gentlemen's club -- crudely put, a brothel. As of today you are an employee of this establishment and thus, my property. You've been outfitted with a neurochip which allows your body to be controlled by our system. Of course disobedience isn't possible, but you'll still need training before you're prepared to serve guests. Shall we begin?

[It did not, ever, in fact, occur to Rean that sold as a prostitute was wear he'd end up. Partly it's just because while he doesn't think he's ugly his opinion on his looks isn't that high. It wouldn't have occurred to him that soft, sweet looking boy is just some people's type.

And he's just optimistic.

But it's not possible to be optimistic standing naked raising his own hands in the air while impossible holograms hold him in place. He does struggle, face red with embarrassment and heart hammering in fear and confusion as he tries to wrench his hands down and himself free of this.... This thing controlling him that he has no power over.]

No? Let's not begin? Can we not?

[He's still trying not to sound panicked even though he is. Maybe they can just talk about this?]

Can we talk about this? I don't think this is a good idea.

What you think is irrelevant.

[He slides his fingers over the screen and suddenly Rean will, by no will of his own, find himself becoming quickly and intensely aroused. The dial there has been cranked way up, intending to leave Rean desperate for touch.]

The faster you learn not to have "ideas" above your station the happier you'll be.

[The suddenness of that is intense, and has him red and panting, cock hard almost dizzyingly fast. He inhales sharply, reeling at this, the way his body feels almost alien to him, senses beyond his understanding, movements and reactions beyond his control. He's definitely about ready to cry already. It's embarrassing, but there's also just the horror of having no agency at all, even in what or how much he participates.]

You--don't understand. I really don't think I'm suited for this at all. I've never even had sex.

[It's not that he doesn't understand porn or pleasure or that being a literal sex slave is a thing or even the appeal of someone inexperienced, it's just hard for him to apply any of that to himself.]

Plus isn't this kind of... This kind of thing isn't--

[How do you politely say "I'm not into being sexually assaulted" to a guy?]

I wouldn't have paid for you if you weren't suited.

[He is slowly cranking up the dial even further as he talks, waiting to see how far it can to before Rean loses coherency.]

Okay--but I'm not...

[He's starting to pant between words, face even redder as he realizes what's happening, how sensitive he is, how just the air on his skin feels like a caress but is definitely not enough and it's horrible.]

This isn't my thing, so please stop.

[He manages to sounds polite and firm and not like he's standing here naked and dying of arousal for that sentence, but after that he's just shivering and biting back confused, distressed, wanton whines, focusing on trying to breath evenly.

It works for a little while, he resists pretty hard. He's definitely crying. biting, his lip hard enough to bleed, but he's not making noise or anything yet.]

Property doesn't have preferences.

[The man says calmly, inching that dial up a little more before walking over to pace around Rean, closely examining his body. He's not touching, but he is finding every blemish, confirming what he saw in the hospital earlier, while Rean was unconscious.]

Try to understand that much. You no longer have any claim on yourself. You'll do what you're told, and you'll enjoy it. I suggest giving up any silly notions of personal will and accepting it.

[He's standing behind Rean when he's done talking. The lesson is punctuated by a finger run gently down Rean's spine, and then a sharp slap on the ass.]

Your body's already following orders, as you can see.

[Rean jumps at the touch, eyes widening as just that little contact makes him come with a strained yell. It's humiliating and alarming, just that touch and the sensitivity is overwhelming, has his mind nearly blank with sensation.

Worse is that he's still aroused, his skin still tingling from a single finger down his spine and the sting of the slap and that's enough to mean his cock doesn't go down at all even while he shudders in embarrassment and pleasure.]

St-stop...

[It's the only conherent wprd he manages, tears of various upset emotions falling down his cheeks.]

The proper response is "thank you", my dear.

[He circles back around to stand in front of Rean, grabbing his chin with one hand and examining his expression as he cries.]

A tool should be grateful to be used.

[Attempts at being nice are over and for one moment he manages a glare, pissed off and upset, but in the next moment...]

[The fingers on his skin, holding his chin up are a lot more stimulation than he can handles without crying harder, sucking in a breathe of almost pain at the intensity of just this touch.]

You said you're a virgin? I'm surprised, with a sweet face like yours. I know men who'll pay handsomely to be the first inside you.

[He lets go and steps back, leaving Rean to feel needy and untouched.]

I should make some calls.

[It's awful that that DOES make him feel bereft. He hates that. That he could so easily want the tortuous satisfaction of contact.

This is gross, and the part of him not drowning in pleasure and confusion and fear is sharply terrified and angry.]

What... is wrong with you?

What? Were you really that ignorant of this side of humanity?

[There's nothing wrong, clearly. It's just the strong eating the weak.

He is messing with the screen though, sending messages and starting a dialogue.]

You'll lose that naivety soon.

[He doesn't want to believe this could be normal for anyone, that humans can be like this really. He believes strongly that people are generally good with good reasons even for bad things.]

At least--let me understand why? Why you're okay with this?

[With hurting someone he doesn't even know for some kind of slave business. Even wrecked and scared and barely holding onto coherence Rean wants to understand people.]

Because I'm powerful, Rean. Power allows a man many luxuries, including the lives of other people. You're just unfortunate enough to have landed at the bottom of the ladder.

[Hmm hmm price negotiations.]

I think I'll leave you like this. We'll see how much you can complain by the time your client has arrived.

No--please don't--

[He doesn't like how scared his voice sounds but this sensitivity and arousal is torture, he can barely keep his own thoughts together as it is, it feels like any moment now he'll lose it. He doesn't know how long he can stand this, when every second is a struggle.]

Shh. Wait your turn.

[With a screen gesture another hologram appears -- tape holding Rean's mouth shut. It'll only heighten things. He's going to be left unable to escape, unable to touch himself, even unable to beg, while the master sits in a chair and does work on the screen.

It'll be a good three hours before the knock on the door.]

[Over those three hours Rean starts losing his mind. Not a real permanent sort of break, but the kind of wrecked daze one gets from a sustained, constant state of drug-like arousal.

He's crying through most of it, even the feeling of his own tears a stimulation that's way too much for him.

After three hours he's just completely out of it and desperate, squirming at times and whining at others.]

[When the door opens it's a girl in fancy but revealing clothing and very large man in a suit. The former let's the latter in, then meekly gets out of the way as he and the master have a short conversation.

After looking Rean over a frankly astronomical price is agreed on, and the master leaves. The man remaining smiles at Rean with nothing but cruelty, and erases the tape.]

I understand you've been waiting.

[He almost sobs at the change, too out of it even for shame or embarrassment at his current state to register deeply.

He looks up at the man, head kind of leaned on his own arms. This position is exhausting to be in for three hours without the added torturous arousal, and he's really very out of it.

But he still realizes, registers somewhere, that this person is looking at him with cruelty, and it scares him. He's mad, at his own situation and at this smiling man, but he doesn't have any of the coherence to pull together a reply.]

How are you feeling?

[He places a hand against Rean's throat, rubbing his thumb over his pulse.]

You're looking nice for the rough day you've had.

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