You continue to suck cocks

The next day you recognize from the sounds that ship has landed. You are let out of the cell, still blindfolded, and you are **** to stumble through the streets of what appears to be a busy city.

From the streets you arrive to a building. You recognize this from the hissing sound of a door and the material changing under your feet. You are led through some rooms, or corridors, you are not really sure. After that you are knelt down, and your arms and legs around bound to a metal frame.

"Have fun, Vette," Denim says. After that you are left alone. At least as it seems.

You recognize that a zipper is pulled down. Then you are **** to suck a man's cock.

After that there is another zipper. And another cock.

Followed by another.

And another.

And another.

In the end you suck cocks for hours, your mouth and face having dried semen all over it.

When Denim returns he is glad, and he explains that you gathered enough money not just for the gear. But also for accommodation. Thus your **** life begins. Or perhaps it merely continues.

As time goes by you are **** to serve your Master in every way he demands so. You give him blowjobs and offers your holes many times a day. Your body being the means to secure money as well. Your arms are forever bound in chains, their position changed every now and then.

Your mouth is almost always gagged and you frequently wear a blindfold. Your nipples and clitoris are pierced and there are often weights on them. The serum he gave you making it possible to endure.

Master even does the house chores, as he keeps you restrained too heavily. In this there is no compromise.

After several years you find yourself on the **** market. Completely broken and utterly submissive. Your wrists and upper arms are bound behind you by chains. In your neck you wear a collar. On your legs there are 6inch stilettos that are chained together. Your eyes are covered by your blindfold. Around your neck there is a shock collar with a number plate. The number written in the plate is all that you are now.

"Seventy-nine," you can hear your number. And finally a purchase price.

For a brief moment your mind resists the notion to serve. But then you dismiss it. You are nothing but an object anyways.

BAD END: BROKEN TOY