Sexual Service Contract (male)

Your life, which seemed to be going nowhere, suddenly seems like it is on fast-forward after you submitted your loan application. The very next day you got a phone call asking you to come in for a physical, to make sure you are healthy enough to work. A physical that was scheduled for that same day.

If you passed their physical, you would be immediately fitted with your new ChastiCorp accessories and your money would be deposited into your account today. With thoughts of all that money and what you will do with it floating through your head, you clear your admittedly not-very-busy schedule and head to the appointment.

Cash-For-Work Loans is predictably located in a busy strip mall in the middle of town and you self-consciously tug your hood further over your face as you walk from your car to the building. Nevermind the fact you are sure you look absurd wearing a black hoodie in the middle of the summer, but you don’t want anyone to recognize you. Your siblings would never let you live this down.

Inside the building, you are dismayed to realize that the woman at the front desk went to high school with you. Blushing, you approach her anyways.

“Hi. I have an appointment.”

She looks up, but thankfully doesn’t seem to recognize you.

“Name?”

“Casey Jones.”

She types something into her computer.

“Gotcha. Have a seat and someone will be with you soon.”

The chairs are uncomfortable plastic and the anxiety pooling in your lower belly only makes it worse. Still, you sit and wait until “Casey Jones!” a man calls unnecessarily loud in the almost empty lobby.

You stand and follow him quickly, hoping that no one here tells your family.

He leads you down a long hallway to an examination room towards the back that seems odd and out of place in the otherwise blandly commercial space. Inside, it is more like a doctor’s office than a loan company, complete with a gyno-chair and doctor in a lab coat. The man closes the door behind you, leaving you alone with the intimidating female doctor.

“Strip,” she orders, “ Place your clothing and other belongings in the crate and sit in the exam chair.”

Her brisk way of just telling you what to do has you oddly turned on and stripping out of your clothes before you think twice. Your down to your underwear and bright red all over when she adds, “Everything. You need to be completely naked.”

Reluctantly, you pull off your boxers before climbing into the chair. With your legs spread wide in the holsters, your hardening dick is on full display to the woman and anyone else who might come in the unlocked door. At the humiliation, you feel yourself getting even harder and you pray to god that the doctor doesn’t say anything.

The woman starts with normal physical stuff: heart, lungs, reflexes, etc. Soon though the doctor moves on to the not so normal stuff and shoves a gloved finger into your virginal ass.

“Never had a real cock up here, have you?” The doctor snorts derisively, “Don’t worry. That will change soon enough, you stupid whore.

You splutter in indignation, unsure of what to say, but the woman just ignores you. Instead she moves on to your front side, picking up your dick and actually holding a ruler up to it.

“What’s that for?” you question her, concerned.

“Corporate policy,” she replies, “men under six inches aren’t really women pleasers if you know what I mean. If people pay for your dick and then aren’t satisfied they request refunds. So if a dick is too small, it just gets locked away until the end of your contract. If a dick is bigger than six inches then we make sure it is available to anyone willing to pay for it.”