TXR-92U-2280 – Call Name: Sara – Part 5


In a society that otherwise resembles our own, mass slavery has persisted into the 21st Century. It is a common and accepted feature of public and private life. Males and females of all ethnic backgrounds are held thrall, without status or legal rights. They are quite literally living property, and may be bought, sold and used for any purpose, including: hard labor, breeding, menial work and sexual servitude.

This series of stories, which is not presented in any particular order, explores the daily life of a prostitute-slave named Sara. Purchased at auction by a Las Vegas casino, she is tasked with fulfilling the sexual urges of its clientèle, who pay for her favors along with room service and Wi-Fi access. Subject to their every whim, she has known both anguish and delight, but most often casual exploitation.

When she is not engaged by a guest, Sara must contend with capricious and underpaid corporate overseers and occasionally vicious slave stable politics.


Jennifer and Sara sat facing each other on the bed. The young brunette wore the items she had ordered up from the Helios toy store: a red satin baby doll and a thong with the bullet vibrator riding in a pocket up against her clit. The slave was naked except for her garter belt, her stockings and her strappy black heels. Their legs were intertwined so that their labias were pressed together, embracing the vibrator.

Jennifer had called her boyfriend, Bryan, a few minutes earlier, and he was on his way up from the arcade with his friends Steve and Jared. Expecting them to walk in any second, Jennifer and Sara had begun moving together, their hips rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

Just the sound of the vibrator humming had made Sara wet, and as soon as she pressed her sex against it, she felt an urgent heat rising between her legs. Through the haze of psychotropic drugs, she could not actually remember her last orgasm – although she could clearly remember the last time that she didn’t cum.

Along with five other sluts, she had been tasked with an accessible display assignment in the Scarab Club. Each of them were dressed the same: tall black boots, long black gloves, and a featureless black hood that covered their faces. Everything else – their breasts, their thighs, their shaved genitals – was bare.

They were bound side-by-side, legs spread, arms taut above their heads, as a living divider between the bar and the stage. As an accessible display, guests were welcome to touch, fondle or abuse the slaves. Occasionally, Sara would be tickled, probed or pinched, but tedium was usually the worst part of this tasking.

Once, a slut named Monique had an ice cube pushed up inside her vagina. She writhed helplessly, screaming into her gag, but the guest held her labia shut until it melted. Sara was grateful it did not happen to her, but it was hardly the most painful thing she could imagine being done to a slave.

That night was different. Without notice, the nimble fingers of a true expert had begun to manipulate her sex. A man or a woman, a slave or a guest, Sara did not know, but the technique was perfect. She could feel her wetness spreading down the insides of her thighs as she moaned into her gag, her body rigid.

It went on minute after minute, as the anonymous hand slowly coaxed her ever closer to orgasm. Then, seconds before her release, it stopped. The need was overpowering. She screamed in frustration, pressing her hips down in a futile search for stimulation.

Even as she humped the emptiness between her legs, she knew that she was making a humiliating, pathetic display of herself – but she could not stop. Desperate for the one final touch that would bring her over the edge, her hips moved up and down, up and down, up and down…

“Gods, Sara!” Jennifer interrupted her reverie. “You’re not actually getting off on this, are you?”

“No, mistress,” the slave groaned, struggling to conceal her orgasm.

Sara was relieved to see Jennifer’s dubious gaze swing towards the door at the sound of Bryan, Steve and Jared returning.

“Faster,” she demanded as the three boys stepped into view.

Bryan was first. He froze, staring open-mouthed at Jennifer and the slave grinding their hips together. Steve actually bumped into him, completely transfixed by their performance.

“Fuck me!” he said.

Jared stood further back, watching silently. All three had huge erections, straining painfully against the fabric of their pants.

“Please, mistress… May Sara cum?” the slave panted.

“No – not until I do,” Jennifer told her.

After another few, frantic seconds, Sara asked again. She sounded desperate.

“Mistress, please! May Sara cum?”

“I told you – I cum first.”

The slave gritted her teeth and pinched her eyes shut.

“Faster!” Jennifer snapped.

“Fuck, yeah!” said Steve, his pants around his ankles and his cock in his hand. “Work her hard, Jen!”

Jennifer moaned.

“Please, mistress! Please! Please let Sara cum!”

“No!” gasped Jennifer. “If you cum first, I’ll have Bryan whip you!”

Sara whimpered, making a show of being caught between fear and lust. Jennifer closed her eyes, her voice rising towards climax.

“Mistress, please! Sara can’t…”

“Bryan! Show this bitch I’m serious!”

He immediately undid his belt and pulled it free from his pants, folding it double. Sara felt her heart in her throat. Her plan had worked as she had hoped, so far – but she never suggested that Jennifer threaten to have Bryan whip her.

“Faster!” screamed Jennifer.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” shouted Steve, spraying his seed onto the floor.

Jennifer ended it with an orgasmic cry, pushing her firm, young tits up towards the ceiling, her hard nipples showing through the red satin. Sara joined her an instant later, and then the woman and the slave collapsed back onto the bed, trembling. The boys were silent.

Recovering, Jennifer swung around and took a handful of Sara’s hair, pulling the slave towards her and kissing her hard on the mouth.

“You were perfect,” she whispered into the Sara’s ear. “I’m sorry if I scared you with the belt.”

Leaning back, she pushed the slave’s face down between her legs.

“Ass up!” she said. “I want to share you with Bryan.”

Sara pulled her knees up and spread her legs, lifting her hips and displaying her vulva and her anus to the three boys.

“Whoa,” Steve murmured, pulling up his pants. “Okay… Bryan, buddy, you go first, for sure – but I call dibs once you’re done.”

Jennifer glared at him.

Bryan turned to Steve.

“Look, Steve, this is something I need to do alone with Jennifer,” he said, his voice low.

“Fuck that shit!” Steve erupted. “I’m paying – the same as you – and she isn’t even paying anything! I’m gonna plow that cunt!”

Bryan continued, almost whispering.

“Okay… I’ll tell you what – however Escort long this takes, I’ll pay for that time all by myself, okay? That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“No way, man! We got this cunt specifically to do lez with Jen. I’m takin’ my turn – and that’s that!”

Bryan glanced back at Jennifer, who was watching impatiently with the slave’s face pressed down onto her vulva.

“Steve, listen – when we first got here, you said it was my fault that we were late, so I should pay for all the time we lost out on, right? You remember that?” he asked urgently. “You know something? You were right. I should pay, and that’s what I’m going to do – okay?”

Steve sighed.

“C’mon, man – please?” Bryan pleaded quietly. “Just let me have this, okay? Afterwards, you can rip that cunt apart. Whatever you want to do to her – anything… It’s just that, right now, I really need to do this with Jen, okay?”

“I dunno. What do you think?” Steve asked, glancing over at Jared.

“It’s cool with me – I’ve still got some coins left for the arcade,” he answered, jingling the tokens in his pocket.

“Fine,” Steve snarled.

He stomped out of the room with Jared right behind him.

“If you don’t have any coins left, you can have some of mine…”


Sara made a show of servicing Jennifer with her mouth while Bryan undressed and knelt on the bed behind her. She felt the tip of his rigid shaft brush up against the inside of her thigh. He spat into his hand and started working it into her anus.

The slave stiffened – she had done nothing to prepare herself to take Bryan’s wide cock into her ass. She had been so obsessed with getting an orgasm from the vibrator she had shared with Jennifer that she had failed to stretch and lubricate herself. Now, she was going to bleed and it was her own fault.

She silently cursed herself and the insatiable need between her legs. She had made a stupid trade – a stolen moment of trembling bliss for the agony Bryan’s fat organ tearing her guts open.

“What are you doing?” Jennifer asked him.

“I’m going to take her up the ass,” Bryan explained innocently.

“Hold on a minute there, mister,” she sounded perturbed. “Take a look at where her mouth is… Do you really think she’s going to do a good job for me if you’re grinding her ass into hamburger?”

“She’s just a…”

“I don’t care. Her job is to make me happy, and your job is to make her happy. Got it?”

Sara immediately sensed Jennifer’s sex becoming flush and wet: she liked making Bryan think about her needs, and not just his own.

Behind her, the slave felt the head of Byran’s thick cock press up against her labia and then slip inside. She felt the warmth of her earlier orgasm returning and beginning to build again. He filled her up, making her whole with each deep, firm thrust.

Still pretending to service Jennifer, Sara felt an overwhelming urge to actually pleasure the young woman – to give her that beautiful, perfect moment because of everything she had done: trusting her and protecting her.

The slave recognized that it was a stupid impulse – an unnecessary risk that would provide no advantage to her if she was successful, and likely a brutal punishment if she was not.

Her plan was working perfectly: in another few minutes, Bryan would be satisfied and Jennifer would be grateful. All she had to do was keep moving her head up and down between Jennifer’s legs. Any slut would take that result and be glad for it, but Sara wanted more.

There was a feeling inside of her, a comforting warmth that she felt towards Jennifer, that she desperately wanted to share. Cursing herself for being so foolish, Sara delicately pulled Jennifer’s thong aside with her teeth, then drew her tongue up along her saturated labia to her swollen clit.

Jennifer gasped loudly, her eyes wide.

“What?” Bryan asked, cocking his hand to deliver a hard slap to the slave’s ass.

“No!” Jennifer waved him off. “It’s okay… It’s just that, Gods, she’s, uh, she’s really good… I didn’t think… Oh, Gods! Gods, Sara! Yes! Do it, Sara! Yes!”


Sara drove Jennifer to orgasm twice and had one herself before Bryan emptied himself inside of her. With the young couple spent, Sara melted away – leaving them to snuggle while she quietly cleaned herself up.

She could hear them kissing and speaking softly to each other. One exchange in particular caught her ear.

Jennifer began: “Um, I guess I never asked what all this costs, but I was thinking that maybe we could come back some time and have Sara all to ourselves – just you and me. What do you think? Would that be okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bryan answered. “That would be great. Maybe the night after graduation. I’m sure my parents will give me some cash.”

As they continued talking, Sara allowed a silent sigh to slip past her lips. Bryan was satisfied. Whatever else the long night would bring, he wasn’t likely to give her a bad evaluation. The uncertainty and the suffering would end at noon.


Bryan and Jennifer were dressed by the time Steve and Jared showed up. Sara knelt at the foot of the bed, freshly made up and wearing her house dress. It was almost two in the morning — still more than ten hours until checkout.

Steve looked down at Sara.

“Wow,” he said. “Who did that to her?”

“What do you mean?” asked Jennifer.

“Show your tits, cunt,” Steve demanded.

Sara pulled down the wide collar of her dress, along with her bra. Her breasts were swollen and her skin was starting to show angry purple bruises from the earlier abuse.

“I didn’t know you liked to play rough, Jen,” said Steve. “You’re a lot cooler than I thought – I just wish you let us watch.”

“I didn’t do that to her,” Jennifer frowned.

“Bryan?” Steve asked.

He shrugged.

“I did it,” said Jared.

“Really?” Steve looked credulous. “Honestly, man, I didn’t think you had it in you. Bad ass. The rest of her is going to look like that by the time we’re done with her – right?”

“No,” Jared told him, looking down at the floor. “I’m not going to hurt her any more.”

“Why not? You’re off to a pretty good start!” Steve laughed.

“Because – I didn’t know… I… I asked her if she liked it and she said ‘Yes,’ but I guess she’s supposed to say that,” Jared answered.

He lifted his eyes to the slave’s face.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Sara,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

Sara acknowledged him with a small nod. She suddenly felt intense guilt for having tried so hard to manipulate him.

Jared walked out. Sara heard the door latch behind him.

“You still owe for your entire share!” Steve shouted after him. “I guess that just means more for the rest of us, huh?”

He looked over at Jennifer.

“If you’re not into the rough stuff, maybe you should just go hang out with Jared or something,” he said. “Bryan and I are going Escort Bayan to work this cunt hard.”

Jennifer looked at Bryan.

“You’re not actually going to do that, are you?” she demanded, her lips pursed.

Byran stammered: “Look, I mean, after all, you know, she’s just a slut. This is what she’s for… You know? It’s not like we’re actually hurting anybody…”

“After you take me home tomorrow morning, I never want to see you again,” Jennifer snarled, clenching her fists. “You know what? Never mind – I’m going to call my Dad and have him come get me right now.”

Eyes burning, she marched out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

“Up, cunt! Strip!” Steve barked at Sara, who jumped to obey.

He turned towards Bryan.

“So, which end do you want first, buddy?”

Bryan didn’t answer. He looked back at the door.

“Oh, c’mon, man! Don’t tell me you’re going to fall for that shit!” said Steve. “I don’t understand why you even need a girlfriend, anyway. If we had a slave girl at my house… Fuck! I’d shoot so much cream down her throat that my Mom wouldn’t even have to feed her – she could just live off it.”

Sara presented herself to the boys: naked, head low.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about, right there,” Steve continued, gesturing towards the slave. “Straight up fuck meat – that’s the best thing there is, period.”

“I don’t know, Steve,” Bryan said, shaking his head.

“Go take the the pillow cases off the pillows — and don’t you dare touch that ass! I read about the tricks you cunts use online,” Steve shouted at the slave.

She turned immediately to follow his instructions.

“I’m sorry – I have to go,” said Bryan. “I need to find Jennifer before she calls her Dad.”

Bryan turned and hurried out the door.

“Pussy,” said Steve.

He looked back at Sara.

“Good news, cunt. It’s just you and me.”


Steve tied Sara over the back of a chair facing the window, binding her wrists and ankles with the pillowcases. She concentrated on taking slow, steady breaths while he sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her vulnerable ass.

“Tell me something, cunt: how many times have you done ass-to-mouth – in one night, I mean?” he asked, pulling off his shirt.

“Sara doesn’t know, master.”

“First of all, you call yourself ‘cunt’ when you’re with me, ‘cause that’s all you are,” he said. “I don’t know why they even bother giving you names.

“Second, I think that’s a problem, you not knowing the answer to a simple question like that – don’t you?”

“Yes, master.”

“Now, because I’m such a nice guy, I’m going to help you with that problem,” he said, stepping out of his pants.

“Thank you, master.”

He walked over to the desk, opened the middle drawer and grabbed out an ink pen.

“Here is what I am going to do,” he said, testing the pen on the palm of his hand. “Every time I go ass-to-mouth on you, I’m going to make a mark on your face, so that at the end of the night you can count them all up – and then you’ll know. What do you think about that?”

Sara shivered.

“This cunt is grateful, master,” she said.

He smiled.

“No, you’re not, you lying little slut. You hate everything about it, but I’m going to do it, anyway.”

“Yes, master.”

She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. He stepped in front of her, brushing his rigid pole across her cheek. She wondered if anything the drones in the yard were doing could possibly be as bad as what was about to happen to her. He took a handful of her hair and bent her head back until her lips touched the tip of his cock.

“Suck it, cunt.”

She opened her mouth and he jammed his organ down her throat. Her gag reflex had been suppressed through brutal robotic dildo training, but she still had to breathe. Steve worked her mercilessly, plunging his whole length into her and holding it there while she retched, frantic for air.

Thick ropes of saliva poured down from her mouth, dangling from her chin and eventually pooling on the carpet. She swerved between panic and despair as he rammed his shaft into her, urgently using her lips and her tongue to add whatever stimulation she could to his cock in the futile hope of finishing him.

After several long minutes, she heard a new sound over her own muffled screams – a heavy, regular thumping noise. In one lucid instant, she realized it must be some other luckless slave getting pounded in an adjacent room.

Steve pulled out, allowing Sara to suck down a few desperate breaths.

“Fuck off!” he shouted. “You had your chance!”

The noise continued.

“Hotel security! We’re coming in!”

“Fuck you!”

Hearing a key in the lock and the latch starting to turn, Steve snatched up his underwear and hurriedly pulled it on.

“Fuck this shit!” he shouted.

The door opened. Sara twisted her head around a caught a glimpse of two men in crisp white shirts entering the room – security officers.

She seldom interacted with hotel security. She only had a vague understanding of their function: they were something like overseers in the stables, except that they managed guests who misbehaved. With that kind of power, she was terrified at the thought of what they could do to her.

The slave concentrated on slowing her breathing and staying still, so not to draw attention to herself.

“Sir, get dressed. You are going to have to leave the room,” said one of the officers.

“What!? No way! We’ve got it until noon tomorrow! Fuck you!”

“Sir, you have to leave now,” said the officer. “The room is registered under the name Bryan Erikson. Mr. Erikson checked out 10 minutes ago.”

“Fuck him! I paid my share!”

“Sir, you have to get dressed and leave the property, or we will take you into custody and notify the police,” the officer warned him.

“I cannot fucking believe this!” Steve raged, pulling on his pants. “This is fucked up!”


“Look! I’m getting dressed, okay? See?”

Steve twisted his feet into his shoes and stomped out. The security officers followed. One paused in the doorway and looked back at Sara.


The slave was silent.

“Slut! What is your designation?”

She coughed.

“TXR-92U-2280 – Sara.”

He lifted a microphone clipped to the center of his chest and spoke into it: “Traffic for stables. Security just cleared Room 01388. You’ve got a slut – 2280, Sara – naked and bound. Looks like she’s had a rough night.”


Sara had attempted to free herself, but she was not quite able to reach the double knots Steve used to secure her wrists with her teeth. It made little difference, she thought: in another few minutes, an overseer would arrive to release her, and she would be sent to clean herself up and then almost certainly to bed.

For all of her fears, it had not been Bayan Escort that bad a night – her breasts were bruised and sore, but she had two orgasms – a trade she might have made willingly, if it had been offered to her. She tried to give herself credit for avoiding the worst of Steve’s cruelty by winning the sympathy of Jared, Jennifer and ultimately Bryan, but she knew it was just luck.

Hearing the door open, she looked back over her shoulder and glimpsed a sandy-haired figure walking towards her: House Master Gessler.

“Gess who,” he said.

Sara’s guts immediately turned to ice and she began to tremble.

Even as physical terror enveloped her, she could not understand the reason for her body’s reaction. Gessler enjoyed the favors of the stable’s sluts as much as any other house master, but he was never sadistic. In fact, she could not recall any girl ever saying that she had been hurt by him.

“Are you okay, Sara?” he asked.

“Yes, master,” she said, looking down at the floor.

He put his hand on the small of her back. She felt her skin crawl – like every individual particle of her being was trying to escape from him. His hand slid down over her narrow waist and then up along her side. He paused to flick her bruised breast with the tip of his middle finger.

“Ouch… I bet that hurts.”

“Yes, master.”

He cupped her breast in the palm of his hand. Then, he made a fist – crushing her swollen feminine flesh.

Sara screamed. Caught completely unprepared, her mind spun out of control and panic rushed in, making her tug uselessly at her restraints.

Unmoved, Gessler stepped in front of her. He took a handful of her hair and lifted her head up so that he could see her face. Sara stilled herself, desperately trying to find her center.

“Did they ass-fuck you?”

“No, master.”

He delivered a brutal, back-handed slap across her face. Pain shot back from her cheek into her neck, as it twisted unnaturally from the force of the blow. For an instant, she thought that her eyeball had burst out of its socket.

“Let’s try that again,” he said. “Did they ass-fuck you?”

“Yes, master,” she answered, quaking in fear.

He smiled, opening his pants. His rigid shaft sprang out of his briefs, and he guided it into the slave’s mouth.

“They’ve always said that you’re a smart one, Sara,” he said, pushing the head of his cock down into her throat.

Gessler sighed, then started working his hips vigorously, jamming his organ into her like a meaty piston. With one hand pressing hard on the back of her head and the other clamped around her throat, it was impossible for Sara to twist away. She gurgled, spitting up thick, bubbly torrents of slime, frantic for the bitter, salty taste of his cum.

He pulled out before giving up his load. The slave panted – drawing long, desperate gasps of air into her lungs. Her eyes were glassy and unseeing. She had been reduced to animal instinct by the lack of oxygen and the sudden brutality of his assault.

Some part of her felt him swipe his hand across her chin, carrying away her thick, foamy spittle. Even as he spread her ass and smeared it across her anus, she could not coax a single coherent thought into her mind. She only knew that pain – terrible pain – was seconds away, and she had to escape it.

Every muscle in her lean body strained against the knots around her wrists and ankles, but it was futile. He pressed the tip of his cock up against her clenched rear opening, then shifted his weight forward, penetrating her.

He groaned with pleasure. She shrieked in agony.


Sara lay on a narrow bed in the infirmary. A medical technician stood over her with a tablet in her hand, cataloging the damage that had been inflicted on the slave: a black eye, heavy ligature markings around the wrists and ankles, badly bruised breasts and anal bleeding.

“You’re going to dose her, right?” asked House Master Gessler, who stood watching the technician do her work.

“Maybe… This one already gets an above-average dose of psychotropics – somebody upstairs must like her,” she said, glancing down at her tablet. “In a couple of months she probably won’t remember this ever happened, anyway.”

“Are you kidding?” Gessler sounded concerned. “Look at her ! If that happened to you, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to remember it.”

“Well, I guess, but – I’m not a slave, am I?” she shot back. “She’s got training. Besides, stuff like this happens all the time.”

“She’s been trained to be ass-raped?” he asked, incredulous. “C’mon, why does it even matter? Just dose her, okay?”

The technician shrugged.

“Sure – why not?” she said. “I need to draw up a syringe.”

She walked away, swiping her fingers across the surface of her tablet. Gessler looked down at the slave with a wicked smile, then followed the technician out of the ward.

Sara’s heart started beating faster as she realized that Gessler had abused her before, but she had been made to forget. In another moment, she realized, she would be made to forget again – and she would be as surprised and terrified during her next encounter with him as she had been earlier that night.

A new thought haunted her: she could have laid in that same bed many times before, having been assaulted by Gessler and knowing that after another moment that fact would be stolen away from her. She desperately sought some way to pass a message to herself, all the while recognizing that she must have tried, and failed, to do that in the past.

Glancing to her left, she saw that the adjacent bed was empty. To the right, a badly beaten slut lay unconscious, wearing an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. A small table off to the side of the bed was bare.

She heard two pairs of footsteps approaching the door to the ward. She looked down across her own body. Desperate, she drove her right thumbnail into the flesh of her upper left arm, where it would be hidden against her body. Working silently, she scratched at her own pale skin.

The slave was laying still when Gessler and the technician returned. She took Sara’s right arm, secured a strip of rubber snugly above her elbow, then found a vein and pushed a needle into it.

The slave gasped.

“Don’t worry, honey,” said the technician as she emptied the syringe into her arm. “In a minute, everything will be just fine.”

“Why do you bother saying that?” asked Gessler, watching her remove the needle and apply an adhesive bandage. “It’s not like she’s going to remember it anyway, right?”

“Well, yeah – you’re right,” she said. “It’s just a habit, I guess. When we work on sluts and utilities, we’re supposed to talk to them. It’s supposed to make them less anxious.”

He nodded.

“I don’t have to be back to the stables for another few minutes,” Gessler said. “Wanna grab a cup?”

“Sure,” said the technician, smiling.

Sara fought to stay conscious as the drug took effect. Eyelids fluttering, she watched them go then lifted her left arm and looked at at the crude letters written in her own angry red flesh: G-E-S-S.

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