Weekend in the Country

There is an envelope in the back seat of the car. It is being held by a man I have never met.
Frederick tells me there is enough money in there to pay for the weekend. The passenger's name is Paul.

"He likes the kind of things I do," Frederick smiles.

There is hesitation before I slide into the back seat. I might be easy I am thinking but I liked to believe it is on my own terms. This was never discussed. I take the envelope from Paul. I trust Frederick. There is no need to view its contents. By the time the car pulls away Paul , a 55yo man with a stutter, has his hand on my thigh. It's going to be a long weekend, I think. The money is very, very good but it will be earned. By God it will...

Frederick is justifiably proud of his cabin. The drive is four hours from Manhattan, the conversation has been easy and I am feeling relaxed and excited by the weekend ahead. There is also, I appreciate, no escape. We are miles from anywhere. Woodland is all I can see. I smile at the thought of being a prisoner. A sexual prisoner.

Frederick suggests I shower. A cocktail will await my return. It will be the first of many. Paul will release the towel from my waist. It is Friday afternoon. I will dress 48 hours later. For the intervening time I will be naked. Paul will ask only to be addressed as 'Daddy'. And I will used. Everyone will leave happy and there will be photographs to remind us. Daddy will tell me he wishes to arrange a gangbang for me but I will not answer. He is thrusting his cock down my throat. He will cum with a serious of sharp thrusts and he will groan with satisfaction. This is why I am here. This is why I am always 'here'.