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Becoming His

ere, that meant the car could only be Trent!

Trent was the newest addition to their band, a drummer who far surpassed their prior bandmate in a number of ways, most notably dedication, musical talent, and not being addicted to PCP. More saliently, he was the spitting image of the late Kurt Cobain, and the sight of him always gave Ami a lovely twinge between her legs. She'd been getting bolder in her advances with each practice session, and his receptive responses had culminated in a rather deliberately-timed admission that he was single. Ami had planned on making her move after this practice, but that had been before a night of poorly-planned wagers had led to her current state.

As the door swung open, Ami suddenly realized her predicament. The object of her desire was about to walk through that door and see her, naked, kneeling on the floor, with drying, sticky hipster cum splattered all over the skin, while Craft Beer Jerk was still pulling up his pants. Even if she could somehow think of an even remotely plausible lie, she knew the houseguests would betray her. Her cheeks flushed with shame as Ami saw him step through the door, glance at her, and stop dead in his tracks.

"What...the...fuck?" Trent gawked at the sight of Ami's subservient pose, the afternoon sun glinting off the semen on her tits. Craft Beer Jerk finished zipping up and turned to see Trent.

"Oh, hey, this is our house slave. Kurt won her in a card game," Craft Beer Jerk explained, as Ami fought to control her shame. Behind her, she heard a door open and Kurt's heavy footsteps approach.

"Hey, Trent, I'm guessing you must be a bit shocked and confused," Kurt smiled, stopping next to Ami and petting her hair with his hand.

"That's one way to put it, yeah."

"The short version is that after the party last night, there was a game of strip poker. Things got out of hand when the betting went from clothes to actions, and in the end, Ami bet a week as a sex slave and lost," Kurt explained, "her safeword is 'fold', because her refusal to do so got her here."

"And this is OK with her?" Trent asked incredulously.

"That's...complicated," Kurt prevaricated, before expanding, "The entire escalation was her idea, but when she lost to Asher, it was captivating. She clearly loathed him, but she was unwilling to renege on a bet, and the sight of her on her knees before him, with hatred in her eyes but his cock in her mouth, was submission like I'd never seen, by pure force of her own will. A few more bad bets and she was riding his cock and coming so hard I thought she'd pass out. She definitely gets off on it, on being used, but she needs an external impetus to push her into it, hence why I raised the stakes to her current servitude. She has a safeword and an assortment of soft and hard limits are taped to the fridge, so she's free to stop anything at any time, but her scowls are as much a part of the game for her as anything else."

Ami stayed silent, doing her best to maintain her composure and hide her embarrassment. A few days ago, she would have been loudly in charge of just about any room. Now she was naked, on her knees, her head thrown back and her tits thrust out, splattered in drying hipster cum, while her Master explicitly described her deepest sexual desires and her shameful actions to her recent object of desire.

"Would you like to use her?" Kurt offered, with all the gravity he would have used in offering a beer to a guest.

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