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Myat didn’t mind hand-me-downs.
He was the youngest of a big extended family. Growing up, most of his clothes and toys had previously belonged to a big sister or cousin or young uncle before they were his. As an adult, he enjoyed thrifting and still bought most of his possessions at secondhand stores.
But a hand-me-down slave? That was new.
“We all agreed,” Aunt Htet said, gesturing to the naked man groveling on the floor. “Great-Uncle Hein would have wanted you to have it. It’s high time you got one!”
Myat remembered seeing the slave around when he visited the old man, but only vaguely. There was just a memory of a silent, efficient presence, taking coats and fetching snacks and refilling drinks and presenting Uncle Hein’s medication at exact times. The idea of having a helpful shadow like that flitting around his own apartment was a little unsettling, but Aunt Htet was right. It was weird for a guy in his twenties not to have a slave yet, and it would be nice not to have to cook anymore.
“Yeah, all right.” Myat nodded. “Thanks, everyone.”
So the slave became his.
There were definitely a lot of upsides. The first day Myat came home to it, he found his apartment sparkling and a phenomenal dinner on the table. He had fresh bedsheets every night now, and his work clothes were not just washed, but pressed (he had also inherited Uncle Hein’s iron). Lunches were neatly packed and waiting in the fridge for him to take to work. His life moved with a new smoothness.
But the slave never spoke!
It was creepy, the way it avoided Myat, never appearing in the room where he was, only leaving evidence of its work while it hid in the shadows of the apartment. He didn’t know what he’d done to make it hate him so much, but he took the hint and left it alone.
One day, Myat and a colleague were sent to man a booth at a local high school career fair. It was a fun day, overall, but they were both exhausted by the end of it.
“Fuck,” his coworker groaned as she helped him load the card table back into the company car. “I can’t wait to get home and have my slave give me a nice long foot rub.”
Myat couldn’t stop thinking about that.
His feet were so sore, and he was tired and overstimulated, and he was sick of sneaking around his apartment like a criminal. He’d given the slave a few weeks to adjust, but enough was enough. It was time it learned to behave like a proper slave, or at least coexist politely with him.
When he stepped through the door, he found the table laden with onion soup, salad, and fresh, crusty bread. It smelled amazing, and he almost let go of the idea of a confrontation.
In the end, though, he decided something had to be done.
He sat down at the table and shouted, “Slave!”
A closet door creaked and the slave emerged, crawling hurriedly towards him. It prostrated at his feet.
“I want a foot rub,” Myat said.
Silent as ever, the slave pressed a kiss to each of his shoes before removing first them, then his socks.
Its hands were cool and surprisingly strong, moving cleverly over his aching feet. Myat groaned with satisfaction.
“That’s good,” he sighed.
He was surprised by a muffled sob a moment later.
Accidentally jostling the table and nearly spilling his soup, Myat stared down at the slave.
It was still expertly rubbing his feet, but tears were streaming down its face. It glanced up, seeming to sense his gaze, and paled.
Instantly, the slave dropped his feet and flattened itself in penitence.
“What’s the matter?” Myat asked, mystified.
“It’s sorry it made noise, Master.” The slave’s whisper was so soft he could barely make it out. “Please allow your erring tool to punish itself!”
“So you can speak!” Myat was half relieved and half annoyed. “Why haven’t you said anything to me?”
The slave stayed flat. “It… it didn’t have permission, Master!”
“Is that why you’ve been hiding from me the whole time?”
“A tool is only in the way unless it’s being used. Good tools stay in the tool box.”
It spoke the words with the reverent familiarity of a mantra.
Myat was beginning to understand.
Great-Uncle Hein had been a proud man. His decline hadn’t been easy on him. It was easy to imagine him buying a slave to see to his needs but demanding that it stay quiet and invisible, not reminding him that he needed help.
“You have new rules,” Myat informed the slave now. “No more hiding from me. It’s creepy. And you’re allowed to talk.”
The slave gasped. “Truly, Master?”
It was a little louder this time, the barest hint of its voice coloring the whisper. It was a nice voice. Myat wouldn’t mind hearing more of it.
“That’s right,” he said. “Slaves are supposed to beg to serve and say thank you and all that. Now rub my feet again.”
The slave flung itself forward and clutched his feet. Its massage was just as competent and controlled, but its hands were shaking now, and its whole face was lit up with joy.
“Thank you, Master,” it rasped. “Your lowly tool will never forget this gift of touch!”
Touch-starved, too? Poor little guy.
Myat finished his dinner as the slave rubbed and cried quietly. Hot tears dripped onto his feet a few times, but he found he didn’t mind.
The touch felt nice for him, too. He wanted more of it, even once his skin started to feel a little raw from all the rubbing.
“Worship them.” That was a good way to keep getting touched, but more softly.
“Thank you, Master!” The slave bent over his feet immediately, voice quivering with happiness. “Master is such a generous god, to grant his worthless tool’s impertinent prayer!”
The slave’s lips were warm and soft as they peppered slow, reverent kisses all over Myat’s feet. Its tongue felt even better when he began licking them submissively. It was hot and wet, its breath dancing over Myat’s skin, its tears still falling and its tongue quickly lapping them up.
Myat was a little surprised when he started to get hard. He looked down at the slave with fresh eyes, evaluating.
It had a surprisingly pretty body, its ass rounded pleasantly, its spine a graceful arch. Myat usually gravitated towards slave girls, enjoying their wet pussies and big breasts, but he’d never turned his nose up at the chance to fuck a pretty boy. And this one was his, which made it unexpectedly alluring.
He unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection.
“Slave,” he ordered, “up. Suck it.”
The slave had been licking desperately at the spot where Myat’s feet rested on the floor, seemingly trying to squirm underneath them. It obeyed at once and gasped when it saw his cock, hard and waiting. Its eyes- blue eyes, Myat realized, very pretty- looked ready to pop right out of its head.
It was a surprisingly attractive slave, he realized. Not just the eyes, but the whole face. Maybe ten or fifteen years older than him, with soft lines around its eyes and mouth as delicate as spider silk. Why had he never noticed its beauty before?
“Oh, Master,” it breathed, “really? Could this disgusting tool be granted such a gift?”
Myat took its head and tugged it forward, pushing between its lips with a sigh of satisfaction. Instantly the slave began licking and sucking inexpertly, clearly not used to such service.
Too bad, because this slave had clearly been made to be fucked.
Its pretty face changed when stuffed with cock. It went from cute to beautiful. With its lips stretched, its eyes rolling back in ecstasy, its cheeks wet with tears… it was the most ravishingly gorgeous slave Myat had ever seen.
“You’re not a tool anymore,” he informed it. “You’re a toy. A fucktoy. I’m making you my pleasure slave.”
It cried and whimpered, tried to stuff as much of his cock in its mouth as possible, choked, pulled back, tried again. The teary blue eyes that stared up at him were full of disbelieving joy and submissive worship.
It was hot, but Myat didn’t have the patience for this clumsy blowjob. He was impatient to get off. Once he’d come, maybe they could see about a proper cocksucking lesson.
“Have you been fucked in your ass before?” he asked.
The slave shook its head, wide-eyed.
Myat felt a little bad about that. Maybe it would be nicer to be romantic about the slave’s first time, take it to bed and draw it out. But he was just too horny to wait, and the slave’s mouth wasn’t going to get him there.
“Up,” he told it. “Move the dishes out of the way, then bend over the table and spread your cheeks.”
The slave scrambled to obey. Myat went to get lube and found the slave in position when he got back, hands tugging its ass cheeks apart, presenting its cute little pink anus.
The slave was trembling and panting, and Myat felt another pang of guilt.
“Are you okay, hon?” he asked. “Scared?”
“It doesn’t know, Master!” the slave said pitifully. “Tools don’t have emotions!”
“Awww.” Myat lubed his finger and pressed it into the slave’s tight hole. The slave yelped, then moaned. “Poor little guy. Don’t worry, Master will help you out. Fuckslaves have lots of emotions. The biggest one is being excited to be fucked by Master’s cock.”
“Mmmm, Master!”
“Does this hurt?”
“It doesn’t… oh, Master, maybe it hurts, it’s so much, but if it hurts then please never stop hurting your fucktoy!”
Satisfied, Myat squirted in a little more lube, slicked his own cock, and positioned it at the tight muscle he was being offered so submissively.
“Master’s going to put his cock in you now,” he informed the slave. “Remember to be a good, grateful cocksleeve.”
When he pressed inside, it was the tightest hole he’d ever had. His virgin slave clamped down on him almost painfully.
As for the slave, it screamed and writhed under him, but never stopped spreading its cheeks.
“Master!” it shrilled. “It hurts! It hurts, Master! Thank you, Master!”
Myat paused halfway in. “Do you need a break? Is it too much?”
“It’s too much!” The slave was crying now, juddering little sobs as it trembled on his cock. “Please no break, Master, please, it’s never had so much touch, it never wants it to end, it hurts, please don’t ever stop, Master!”
“I knew it,” Myat gloated, pushing in the rest of the way. “You really were made to be a fuckslave.”
He was already picturing it- the way his slave would look in the full array of piercings. He’d get them done right away. And he’d buy it lingerie, lots of frilly, floaty outfits. He’d teach it how he liked his cock sucked and his balls and ass licked. He’d buy it makeup and have it grow out its hair. And he would fuck this tight, perfect, incredible ass every day, again and again.
“You’re going to be such a good little whore for me,” he panted, taking the squealing slave in quick, firm thrusts. “A proper little pleasure slave. You’ve been waiting so long to be fucked like you need. How long have you been dreaming of getting a fat cock up your ass just like this?”
“All its life, Master!” cried the slave. “Thank you, Master! Thank you for breaking its worthless ass on your wonderful cock and making it your fuckwhore! It’ll be a good little cocksleeve, Master, it swears! Just please keep fucking it forever!”
It stopped talking after that, just whined and wailed and tried to squirm back and impale itself deeper on Myat’s cock.
Finally, Myat came hard, relishing the primal feeling of filling his slave’s ass. Marking it. Claiming it.
Mine forever.
When he pulled out, the slave whimpered unhappily. Myat just chuckled.
“Silly slut,” he said fondly. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Come on, let’s go to the living room. You can clean up the mess you left on Master’s cock and I’ll teach you how to suck like a proper slave whore.”
It let out a happy chirp and crawled after him, eyes bright and dazed and vacant.
Hand-me-downs were great, Myat reflected. Sometimes people just didn’t understand what a gem they had. He loved taking something that hadn’t been properly appreciated and making use of it in the way it had clearly been meant for all along.