Last week I was being used by my MASTER when suddenly he asked me point-blank: "How many Men have fucked you, bitch?" I thought about it and realized I didn't know. I received a terrible punishment for not knowing. "A bitch like you is nobody to forget the Men who did you the favor of fucking you, trash." He gave me a week to remember and write down every Man who had fucked or used me as a slave, even if they had not used me sexually, from the first to the last.

The following week I had done it. I had been fucked by 368 Men. The MASTER summoned me to a hotel in Belgrano, where I received the surprise that he had come with another Friend. "This is the bitch I told you about," the MASTER exclaimed right at the hotel door. It wasn't the first time the MASTER used me with his Friends. On the contrary. He likes having me there, sucking him off when they gather to watch soccer, movies, simply to fuck. The Friend looked at me with a disdain to which I was already accustomed.

As soon as we entered the room, the MASTER ordered me to undress, handcuffed my hands behind my back, and put on a gag with an open mouth: the usual when he uses me. The room had some stools with dildos attached to them. "You're going to sit on those dildos as many times as Men fucked you, bitch. 368. I want the fact that you're a cheap whore to be engraved on your ass." The MASTER and His Friend sat on a bench in front of me, like the couple they obviously were, where they began to caress each other with an eroticism and care that, of course, the MASTER never had with me.

I immediately realized that the MASTER wanted me to be His live porn show. I know I'm a bitch and I know that as a slave I can't choose who fucks me or uses me. I learned long ago to give up on love and accept this dark place where I live, so different from love and affection, where I don't matter and can't expect anything other than the MASTER wanting to keep using me. But when I saw myself exposed in that way, I don't know why, I was overwhelmed by such extreme depression that it surprised me.

I felt truly low. I felt why my MASTER says I'm a cheap whore, maybe like I had never felt before. I don't know. I've been through much worse. Much, much worse. I've cried, from pain, from disgust, and from deep humiliation. But having to fuck myself 368 times, with my hands handcuffed, drooling from the gag, in front of my MASTER and His Partner making love, trying to grotesquely say "Thank you for fucking this cheap whore, Master", it brought a level of awareness about who I am and especially what I'll never be, with a brutality that I don't think I had ever seen before.

I have truly been used like a cheap whore, worse than a cheap whore, as the MASTER says, because I don't charge and I can't say "no". I'm just there as a piece of meat. They use me and discard me. "Do you realize, bitch, that none of the Men who use you are even your friends, bitch." Yes, I know. I know that f...