[FF], When I was twenty two, I spent about a year as a financially compensated sex slave to a couple over twice my age. (Part 2)

*A note to everyone reading this:*

If you don’t like violence and sex mixing, then this probably won’t be your cup of tea. That’s fine, that’s why I tried to make the title as clear and concise as possible. When I start to get more descriptive with the violent stuff in later posts I’ll leave try to leave trigger warnings or something if people here think I should. I’ve heard that reddit has gotten really PC about that sort of stuff in the past few years.

I’d also like to state this clearly: the couple were sociopaths. So, if some of the weird, not-quite-right stuff I started noticing in the beginning might make you think that the story ends up like an episode of some kind of crime drama, that’s not the kind of sociopath I’m talking about. They were just sort of twisted in the head and treated people like they were interchangeable. It was like they could replace people as easily as a mechanic swaps out pieces in a machine. The machine being their personal lives in that metaphor. Other than that one quality, they treated us like responsible pet owners treat their animals, except they only showed us affection in a sexual way. Look, I don’t really think there’s a proper analogy that exists for me to accurately compare them to normal people, so just bare with me for a few seconds and I’ll try to Explain. Now, not to say they treated us like animals, but during sex, they wouldn’t always treat us like people. A lot of the time we were essentially marital aides or life-like sex robots they could use whenever they wanted. Lets just say that sometimes they were selfish and left us wanting more for days at a time. Some might see that kind of neglect as a sexy tease, I see it as being paid to be remain unsatisfied, not as easy as it might sound if there’s a chastity belt involved, but that’s something for a future part of the story, but I felt I needed an example to hammer the point home. Despite my own little gripes, I have to admit that during the times in between the weirder parts of the sex they were actually pretty normal-ish; aside from all their list weird minor issues they had about objectively unimportant things that I think I’ll only touch on now and then because most of it isn’t really important for the bigger picture.

Also, thank you for your encouragement on Part 1, but I’m probably not going to be responding to comments, my apologies.

*Note for anyone who has already read [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ad7zrn/ffm_when_i_was_twenty_two_i_spent_about_a_year_as/):*

I’m going to be reiterating the descriptions of people in this story where important and probably do the same on every future post for anyone who isn’t the sort of person that always starts at the beginning of stories. If you’re the type that finds this annoying, sorry. But, I feel the only way I can do this story justice in a relatively short format like this is by restating some descriptions from the previous post or expanding on certain details. For instance, Part 2 is mainly about Sweetie, but I’ll wait to go into detail about her body until Part 3 when the action picks up. However, I can’t simply fail to mention the first time she showed me one of her scars and how she seemed so unfazed by what they implied. Because, as messed up as she was at that time, it seems important to touch upon the time I spent getting to know her before the first time her and I were sexually intimate with one another.

*Note for anyone wanting to skip all the context and intimacy and go straight to the sex:*

Sweetie is an especially good person, but sometimes bad things happen to good people. I’m not going to go into too much detail about it because this isn’t a tragic tale, and I can tell you know that she’s has done extraordinarily well for herself in the years since, but for some people it seems like all they’ve ever known is tragedy despite their best efforts or simply because some things in their life are beyond simply their control. At this particular point in her life, however, she was a much different person. In fact, through no fault of her own, she kinda tore apart my heart strings just a little bit even though she was barely more than a stranger to me our first day together. Therefore, I believe that not sharing my time spent with her doing the mundane things that actually mattered to the picture I’m trying to paint would feel like doing a disservice to her as a human being. She’s never been just some big boobed whore. I’ve gotten to know her well over the years, and she is the most kind and caring person I’ve ever known. She is literally the most wonderful person I have ever known, because of her scars, both physical and mental, not in spite of them. And no, I didn’t use the word ‘literally’ incorrectly just then. Which is why, when I tell the story about that second night (**Part 3**), I can’t do the intimacy of what happened the proper service without first sharing how her and I began to form a bond that has lasted since our seemingly unique first encounter with one another. A bond like ours is a rare and valuable thing in this world. So, Part 2 is important to me, and the story, and I just can’t bare to cut it out for the sake of what amounts to word-porn.

That said, full disclosure here, in “**Part 2**” nothing sexy happens besides the first day’s recounting of the previous night’s activities. I’m honestly a little worried that if I post “Part 2” by itself on this subreddit then I’m worried it’ll get deleted for not meeting some ambiguous quota for sexiness. However, this is far too long to put “Part 2” and “Part 3” in the same post. So I guess I’ll just cross my fingers that the mods are cool about it since I’m going to be posting both parts back to back.

And Finally, I definitely understand if you want to skip ahead and you don’t gotta feel bad about it which is why I’m telling you this here instead of boring you to death and making you feel a need to leave me any comments about it. And also, you can skip ahead to “**Part 3**” if you just want the sexy parts. I should have it posted soon I even let you know when the actual sex starts if you’re just looking for that. Regardless of your own reasons, thanks for reading, or even just glancing, but I’m pretty much just writing this for personal reasons.

**Part 2**

A point I feel I have to make first in order to sound like less of a total bitch than I actually meant to be when I woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar environment is that the perfect recipe for an instant bad mood is waking up with severe dehydration from a cocaine hangover mixed with the unexpectedly rough sex that made me ache in ways that didn’t ache often, and hardly ever all at once. Like a flame dropped into a barrel of gasoline, all you really need spark to get a sudden explosion of rudeness out of me.

Now, I’ve always been a pretty polite person, generally speaking, but I will never be a morning person. By which, I basically mean that it takes a few seconds for my brain to come online after my eyes open, then I usually spend at least an hour preparing myself for the day ahead before there’s any chance of me leaving the bed, let alone the house. Sweetie joked once that I’d probably die in a house-fire because I’d so long too long to get out of bed; some of her best humor was the dark stuff, she’s always been twisted about the starving children in Africa too. Anyways, on that particular morning, it wasn’t only the hangover, but also the fact that I had been wide awake on coke until the break of dawn. What, at the time, I believed to be a very healthy level of paranoia also likely had something to do with my sleepless night. So, when I was woken up to a polite knock at the bedroom door after maybe only a few hours of sleep maximum, in that tiny fraction of time before I had actually regained consciousness, my mouth snapped open to yell,

“Jesus fucking Christ! What?!”

The first words I heard was the voice I had last heard before going to bed, the neurons began to reconnect or whatever, and my first waking memory is the last sentence of whatever Sweetie was yelling back. She’s a real fast talker when she gets offended. All I could make out through the door and piece together after thinking about it was,

“You know what, bitch, I’ll just leave your breakfast out here. Eat it, maybe it’ll fix your shit attitude.”

As I heard her speak, the night before had come flooding back into my head. Judith had gone to bed after leaving Sweetie and I to continue talking, knowing that I’d be more open with my questions if Judith wasn’t there to keep me distracted. Judith was a gorgeous woman, and she liked being looked at and didn’t pretend otherwise in the privacy of her own home. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to come close to mimicking what Judith was capable of making me feel with just a glance. That evening, both in the taxi to her place, and in the shower after we had sex she had been caressing me all over my body, still flirting without words and touching me in ways that only intimate lover would even though we were barely more than strangers. Her touch was always sexual, even reassuring hugs were given with a lustful gaze. There was a gentle intimacy in it that I hadn’t known I desired so strongly. She just this presence that was confident and even when sitting still and silent, it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that she could hypnotize me with her gaze alone.

That evening, sitting across from one another at the kitchen counter, Judith was only looking at me, yet it was as if I could feel her sliding her fingers over me wherever she was looking. So, I was obviously a bit disappointed at the prospect of her leaving, but I was also glad when she excused herself to go find her man, wishing us good dreams, and giving both of us a kiss. Sweetie smile up at Judith and had to get onto her tip-toes to reach the the woman’s lips. It wasn’t just a peck, and fully satisfied libido or not, seeing them turned me on. I think it might have been the intimacy I didn’t realize I had been lacking at the time, but I was a little jealous even though I was the next in line. Judith’s eyes flicked to me just as they finished their kiss to see my reaction. She gave me the sort of smile that I was only now just realizing that I had already begun craving from her. She didn’t ask me if I wanted a kiss too, she simply walked over as I stood up expectantly. She slid one hand around my waist and held my cheek gently in her other one. Unlike when she had kissed Sweetie, their lips contacting without any hesitation whatsoever, and then kissing like intimate lovers after a romantic evening, when she kissed me there was a hesitance she clearly did just to tease me, forcing me to be the one to initiate the kiss. What followed was a gentle kiss of spent passion that promised of far more pleasures after a good night’s rest. When we parted, my heart racing, Judith spanked my ass cheek, making me squeak embarrassingly in surprise and pain. Although she barely tapped me, as I clenched in surprise, I was painfully reminded that more than just my ass was going to be sore in the morning. Judith’s smile turned to a grin as she walked away without another word.

I watched her go until she was out of sight, and then without her there to distract me, or to potentially police Sweetie’s words, I was glad to be alone with Sweetie so I could figure out exactly what the whole thing really was. Because honestly, what I was told sounded too good to be true and even then I was banking on it being some kind of sex trafficking thing or a some kinda Scientologist-like cult, or maybe something murdery even though I wasn’t really getting that vibe from any of them. I suppose the young girls in horror movies don’t know they’re in a horror movie; heck, maybe they were just organ harvesters instead of sadistic murderers. I’ve met some weird people in my life, but Judith and Henry were in a specific class of weirdness that I had never even considered before. So, despite how uncomfortable some aspects of the night had felt, I figured they probably wouldn’t murder me and would leave my organs intact right where they were. Thankfully, a small portion of my paranoia was assuaged by the fact that my friends who were at the bar with the previous night had known I left with that woman and their were cameras all over the place in the city, so I supposed that they wouldn’t be that blatant about murdering someone for whatever reason. Let’s just say I was alertly paranoid, but willing to at least see if this was the real deal. It seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up if they were the sort of people that didn’t actually infringe on human rights. So far, they had been cool about consent as far as I was concerned. Yeah, sure, I had asked Henry to stop fucking me for a minute just after my orgasm and he had ignored me and kept going, but it wasn’t what I consider to be rape, in my personal experiences.

As the only sex slave I had ever met, Sweetie was too snarky and genuinely happy about her circumstances for me to see her as a victim after talking with her alone. She answered all the questions I had and laughed at most of the conspiracy theories my not-too-subtle inquiries were eluding to. I was starting to crash after a while so she took me to one of the unoccupied bedrooms. She even thought to give me a couple water bottles and a couple ibuprofen to put on the nightstand because she was familiar with cocaine hangovers. Like I said in part one, Sweetie’s nickname had a variety of different connotations in regards to her personality. She’s always done little things that she doesn’t even realize are nice gestures. That’s not to say she doesn’t have a temper, or isn’t a bit of a bitch sometimes as I deservedly learned when I woke up in the morning.

If this whole thing was legit, the last thing I had wanted to do was make any of them think that I was the kind of person that would be rude for no reason. So, forgetting my hangover, I lunged out of bed as I heard her footsteps retreating down the hall. I had pulled most of the covers with me by accident, and despite my precarious balance and the painful soreness all over my body, I managed to make it to the door and unlock it. By the time I poked my head out the door, Sweetie was already on her way back, a concerned look on her face due to all the ruckus and muttered curing as I tried untangling myself.

Before she could say anything I started with an apology, then told her a summarized version about my mouth moving on it’s own before my brain turned on. She accepted my apology with a sweet laugh and an admission that she understood the misunderstanding and then she apologized for overreacting, something I didn’t really think she did, but I was just glad to have her forgiveness. The relief I felt was quickly replaced by a little confusion as I noticed something different about her. She was wearing clothes. Last night she had been walking around naked or nearly naked with no sense of shame whatsoever. I had begun to think that maybe she was just always naked or nearly so, since she was so enthusiastic about the whole sex slave thing. I guess she saw me looking at her body dumbly, or maybe I wasn’t the first person who was thinking it, because she explained without me needing to ask,

“Judith and Henry are both at work. The nudity is pretty much just for them.”

I filed away that information with the heaps of details I had already learned and decided that I should probably put something on besides the entirely see-through nightgown. She came over and picked up the tray, handing it to me. She smiled when she saw me still in the gown and asked me if I wanted her to find me something from the wardrobe that would be more comfortable. I took her up on her offer and she left me to recollect myself. She was gone long enough for me to finish eating and go to the bathroom. While I was on the toilet she called through the door that she left the clothes on my bed. Then she invited me to come smoke weed with her. I responded with a ‘hell yeah’ and soon after getting into the pajama bottoms and loose tee shirt, I found her on the balcony in the back of the house with a bong in hand. There was a no smoking in the house rule, but neither of the owners cared if we smoked on the balcony. It was pretty secluded on the hill, especially where visibility was concerned. The house looked down on all the surrounding ones and while we had a view into other people’s windows, no one could see into the windows of this house, especially with the way the shades were always angled to let in sunlight but block out anyone looking up at the windows from below. Judith and Henry’s choice of homes drove the point home to me in my blazed mind that these were people who didn’t like to be seen by anyone who they weren’t cool with. It was kind of like a strange epiphany in that moment.

Judith and Henry had accepted me into their home, shared with me what was apparently a pretty big secret about themselves that they didn’t want the rest of the world to know. Honestly, it made me feel pretty special. Mine and Sweetie’s conversation touched on this general subject and I discovered that she felt the same way about them that I was just coming to realize I could feel towards them. Then, I asked her if she had a cigarette, a filthy habit that I’ve long since kicked, but her response was,

“Nah, sorry. I got a thing about them.”

Then she nonchalantly flashed me her stomach, pointing to her burn scars. Obviously, my first assumption was that it had been Henry that did it to her and I had to ask her if my guess was correct. To my relief she laughed and told me that Henry had never done anything like that to her. Her exact words to describe Judith and Henry’s attitude towards her, which I have written in my old notebook and honestly might have paraphrased just a bit, were as follows,

“He’s hurt me, but he’s never harmed me. As far as people go, he treats me well. The smacking and forcefulness is just a sex thing. At first, with him, I just liked the pain and the fear, because that’s what felt familiar to me. Don’t you look at me like you’re thinking I’m about to go into some sob story about my shitty upbringing. This ain’t what that is… and it’s not that I’m only doing it for the cash, they’re both freaks obviously, but they’re nice freaks. I’m here because I choose to be, I do what they want me to do because I enjoy the hell out of it. Just look where we are right now. It feels like I’m living in ancient roman times and some nobles pulled me out of the squalor. I know the whole thing is a kinda fucked up, I’m pretty fucked up too, but here, everything is a whole lot less fucked up than where I’d be otherwise. My first day here wasn’t that long ago either, there were two other girls living here at the time and they didn’t have to say much to talk me into staying. I know it’s gonna sound strange considering how Henry likes to treat girls, but I don’t think he’s ever struck anyone in anger. Aside from the sex, he’s pretty docile. All the time in between the sex, he’s really chill. I think he’s just got more cave-man genes than most men and being an accountant without someone to take care of his needs might literally drive him insane. Or that’s my guess at least, after three months I barely know the guy. Pretty much anytime he isn’t eating, sleeping, or fucking, he’s working. Don’t tell them I said that thing about him possibly going postal or whatever, I just like to think that because when he’s finished fucking me I like to think I’m doing a service for the betterment of mankind. The feeling of doing a good deed helps to soothe my ass after he’s done spanking me.”

She laughed then and confessed,

“I’m actually grateful that you took one for the team last night, I’ve had nearly all his attention for a month now and it’s nice to be able to sit comfortably in the morning. I’d almost forgotten what it was like.”

At one point I asked her what had happened to the other girls and with a shrug she said,

“The ones who were where I’m sitting now, you mean. Yeah, they’re still alive and kicking. One of them still visits occasionally but for the most part the girls come and go, not many actually stay for more than a one or two nights here and there. Judith has her own little harem in her phone book and I happen to be a little too straight for her taste so we don’t do much together other than kiss. Sometimes she’ll join Henry and me or ask me to join them. He’s always more gentle when she’s around. It took a while, but I’ve gotten to a point where I’m totally into him, weird I know, but I guess that probably has something to do with my self-diagnosed daddy issues. Still, being his favorite by default can get pretty exhausting.”

We continued talking for hours about all different sorts of things. It turned out that Sweetie and I both enjoyed literature. Yeah, a strange thing for a couple of dropouts to have in common, and we eventually wound up in the study where I had been with Henry in the night before, in fact there was still a semen stain on the carpet from the night before where I had been laying. I asked Sweetie if I should clean it up and she told me that she’d clean later. Apparently she preferred to clean the house an hour before Henry or Judith got home, so that when they walked through the door it smelled fresh as if she hadn’t been sitting around all day long. It was a tip she had learned from one of the girls that had shown her how to do the chores. So, we spent the next several hours just hanging out together. It never felt like she was trying to recruit me or anything like that. However, I think that she knew I was definitely considering the possibility of sticking around for a while. After all, someone who was asking as many questions as I was and not making up some excuse to be elsewhere was exactly the sort of girl they all wanted. Or maybe Sweetie just wanted the company after a month of spending most days there alone by herself as well as spending most mornings and nights as Henry’s main squeeze. In some respects Sweetie seemed to be far more mature than I was, but in others she just seemed so innocent, but at no point did she say anything that made me think of her as naive or brainwashed. Reading was always just a hobby for me, for her it was like a way of life. Even then, I think she probably had a considerably higher IQ than I did. She wasn’t a genius or anything, but she was inquisitive and incredibly open to knew ideas which only ever made her hunger for more knowledge. It was always fascinating to see her researching some seemingly obscure topic that would never come up in any normal conversations. Sweetie’s boundless curiosity is one of the traits I admire most about her.

It turned out that Sweetie had a lot of scars, and none of them were self inflicted except the ones that you only see on addicts. When I had first seen those ones I thought Judith and Henry had been keeping her there with drugs, however, that also turned out to be one of my incorrect conspiracy theories. Judith had actually been the one to get Sweetie off the hard stuff, something that seemed questionable at the time since Judith had gotten high been giving me cocaine the previous night, but after spending time with the two of them, I found that Sweetie never did any drugs aside from the weed. Of course, there was the copious amounts of processed sugar she consumed, but she claimed that the near-constant sugar high helped her not crave the other stuff. Also, she just really liked candy, like she had only just recently discovered it and made it her new favorite food. As the months passed she actually weened herself off of sugar too once she put on a few pounds that didn’t go straight to her big tits and ass. And speaking of her tits and ass, now that all that’s been said, I can finally get to the sexy parts.

TL;DR: After getting off on the wrong foot at first, Sweetie and I spend a day just lounging around in, what is to girls from our economic backgrounds, a mansion we had all to ourselves. We spend the day talking and getting to know one another while I probe her for answers about what the deal is with the couple who kept her, and had kept others like her, as what amounted to a slave. She made it all sound pretty appealing to me and apparently Judith and Henry were freaks, but they didn’t break any of the laws in the Geneva convention or violate any human rights as far as I ever heard or witnessed, so I was pretty on board by the time Henry got back home from his work.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/adu5pi/ff_when_i_was_twenty_two_i_spent_about_a_year_as