Buster's first owner was a woman. She'd known he was gay; it was why she bought him. "I want you for one reason," she said, once she'd claimed him.
They were in the display room just off the main auction room and Buster was on his knees, his wrists bound behind his back and his auction number still visible on his hip. He'd just been
and it didn't matter that she was a woman; just knowing she owned him had him so hard it hurt. "I entertain a lot and I like to have someone I can have on hand for my gay friends.
Does that sound good to you?"
It sounded fucking awesome, but Buster knew better than say so. "If it sounds good to you, Mistress, that is enough for this boy."
"Oh no no no," she said with a laugh. "First person, please. Call me Ma'am or, when it's more appropriate, Ms. Fowler.
And I know they teach you to say the right things, but, right now, I want honesty."
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