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I’d never been to one of these “Buying Balls” before as people referred to them. It seemed crass, events people with old money went to because they were bored and wanted an excuse to show off their wealth. But it had been suggested more than once that I needed to fit in better and my business parties needed the right kind of entertainment if I wanted to draw the right kind of connections to attend them.

So I paid the couple of grand to get into the event. And I almost fell over at the legal fucking orgy that I had no idea was going on right in the middle of New York City! It was a night of decadence in the extreme. Buffet tables filled with fountains of the finest champagne and caviar—with a naked woman wearing a gold mask getting gang banged at the end of it. I found out the gold mask meant the slave was into men.

The black, they accepted women, and upon checking in, I was handed a white mask to signal I was a buyer. I almost rolled my eyes. The fact I got to keep my clothes on throughout the night said about the same thing I thought, but whatever, I could play by the rules.

I sampled the lush desserts, ignoring and dodging the people from the brothel gushing over me and trying to schmooze me since it was my first time there and they could practically smell the possibility of a sale. Finding a spot against the wall, I watched the live porn, turned on and worried I might get distracted from the agenda I came here for. This was about business to further business and an investment.

Nothing more. I could purchase one of these poor cat shifters from the brothel that I heard was a horrid place and, in exchange, treat them much better, and instead of being subjected to whatever and whomever they were told to by the head of the brothel, they would simply tend to my guests at parties and my weekly poker night. I didn’t like it, but it was the world we lived in.

A young man was taking two men in his ass, another in his mouth, and several were waiting to get at him next and I thought I might cream my pants. The shifter was gorgeous and I wanted a taste of him. Fuck, I wanted him for the whole night all to myself.

But that didn’t seem to be how this all worked.

I was a couple of drinks into my night and several plates of appetizers, working up the courage to start perusing the “catalog” of suitable slaves wandering around when the next show by me was resetting. This time a woman had a line of men getting to enjoy her. She knelt on a pillow and spread her legs.

“I can make you finish before she can any of her suitors if you let me, sir,” a soft, musical voice said to my right. My head snapped away from the scene in front of me towards that direction and met the most beautiful orange eyes that had the depth of tone as if I was looking into the sun but without the pain staring at it caused.

“That’s quite a boast,” I murmured, drinking in his trim, perfect body that was hairless everywhere but his head.

“It’s not and I can prove it,” he purred as he moved closer. “I’ll even wager on it and be modest.” He glanced at the women who had men getting into place. “I could do it with my hand, but my ass would be too easy with all the stimulation going on around us. Would you consider a wager, sir?”

I nodded, setting down my drink and plate as he stepped closer. “I am a gambling man.”

“If I can accomplish as I say I can, then you buy my contract.”

I blinked at him, thinking that was quite a gamble. “I am in the market for party entertainment and a guest hospitality slave.”

His eyes lost some of their hope but he kept his expression blank of that. “But you would still partake in me as well, no? I would service you as well as your guests, sir?” He stepped even closer and pressed himself against me, letting me feel every line of his exquisite five-seven frame.

“I don’t see how I wouldn’t with a body like yours,” I moaned as my hands instinctively moved to his soft skin. “What do I get if you don’t win?” He blinked at me and I couldn’t help but smile. The little seductor hadn’t thought that far in his ruse.

“Whatever I can give you that you want, but I won’t lose.” He glanced over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze, seeing the first man mount the female shifter. “They’re starting. If we don’t as well, I’ll be playing with a handicap.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” I breathed as I ran my fingers over his silky black hair that hung in his face just past his ears. “I accept.”

“Thank you, sir,” he sighed, relief so clear in his eyes I was dying to know how badly this slave had been treated in the past. “I will always please you and be so good to you.” He dropped to his knees before I could reply and, with experienced fingers, flicked open the button to my fly as he unzipped it and pulled out my cock. He swallowed my fully hard, ten and a half inches down without even hesitating or gagging.

Holy fuck! This is why people buy sex slaves! I bit my lip and tried not to blow my load like a schoolboy experiencing something sexual for the first time. I’d gotten head before, lots of head.

But not like this, never like that. His tongue was rougher than any before, and he knew what he was doing. I watched him, enthralled with the way he loved what he was doing, and saddened to know it was just an act they learned to put on for clients.

This is nothing more than any other interview, Neil. An odd, crazy interview, but nothing more. I glanced at the scene with the woman, wanting to check on our competition, and when I saw that my holding back hurt the chances of the man on his knees, I let go and enjoyed the pleasure he was giving me when his smaller hand caressed my sac. I shot deep down his throat, coming harder than I could ever remember from nothing more than a kinky hookup.

I grabbed his head and thrust, wanting to draw it out and enjoy every second of it. With no gag reflex, it wasn’t as if I would hurt him. When I was spent, the first of the female’s companions cried out, and it was official, my slave had won our bet. He slowly pulled off my cock when I let go of his head, leisurely licking my cock clean as he stared up me curiously. It took me a moment to figure out why.

“I keep my promises and dealings,” I panted, giving him a firm nod. He smiled widely, purring as he rubbed his cheek against my groin in the oddest gesture before zipping me back up and rolling gracefully to his feet. “I’ve never bought a slave before. You’re going to have to walk me through how to do this.”

“I’ve never been bought before,” he mumbled as he glanced away. “Ocelots can only be bought once. They will explain why. It’s forbidden for us to warn potential buyers if they don’t know and we’re not allowed to tell them that we’re ocelots because of that. Please don’t be angry. Some search for ocelots, others hate it. I would have told you but if you hadn’t bought me and they found out…”

“Tell me,” I demanded and he shook his head. “I’m to be your master now. Tell me what they would have done to you if you’d told me.”

He slowly glanced up at me, and I saw fear in his eyes so stark I did a double take. “I don’t know, but the last ocelot who told, I never heard from again. I want to believe they simply sent him to another brothel in another city, but we’re property and property that has outlived its use is disposed of, so that is more likely. But there are masters who search far and wide for us so I just don’t know.”

“Now I’m fucking curious what I got myself into,” I grumbled as I took his hand. I asked one of the brothel attendants where the office was and dragged the man after me. Once I was in the room designated the office, I handed them my buyer card and yanked off my mask, nervous and tired of the games.

“Mr. Morgan, so good of you to finally visit one of our little parties,” some douche commented as he joined me with a clipboard, like I’d been missing out on bathing all these years. “Everything is in order with your bank, of course, like there was ever any doubt, so all—”

“Why does it matter that he’s an ocelot?” I interrupted, glancing at the slave. “Don’t get mad at him. He didn’t tell me until I already agreed and asked him how to purchase him because I’ve never bought a slave before but he didn’t know either. I’ll buy him but just cut the foreplay and dance. What does it mean that he’s an ocelot?”

The guy cleared his throat and nodded, losing the nice-nice act. “Good or bad news first.”

“I find both are relative to the person, so since I’m buying him as entertainment for business parties, let’s start as good for that.”

“An ocelot is actually perfect for that,” the guy muttered before gesturing to the corner of the room. “Cecil, go sit over there and wait for your new master.”

“Of course.” The slave hesitantly let go of my hand and walked away, glancing at me over his shoulder.

The guy gestured to someone to put headphones on the shifter once Cecil—I guess his name was—sat down. Wow, I didn’t know their hearing was that good. I hadn’t been around many of them since they were rarely in the work force.

“Ocelots imprint on their masters,” he explained quietly. “It’s a well-kept secret. He won’t even need the shock collar. We’ll do it here, tonight, and make sure it takes, and after that, Cecil will be completely loyal to you without question. You tell him to entertain your guests and he will however you want, without question, just to please you and make you happy. No pesky emotions in the way or not liking someone’s sexual preferences as we deal with in the brothels.”

“Go on,” I muttered when he paused, liking this already.

“He will quite literally live for whatever you want. If your goal is to schmooze someone at a dinner, that will be his goal as well and he will put all his efforts into it. They’re not partners, of course, but think of it as having the perfect, best trained asset in your portfolio to wine and dine clients. I assume that was what you wanted?”

“Better than I had hoped for actually.” So that was the good. I met the man’s gaze and braced myself. “What’s the bad?”

“He’s twice as expensive because of it. Ocelots aren’t used in the brothels since they could accidentally be imprinted upon and we could lose such a valuable commodity. They’re only allowed to play at the parties in full view of the guards. He’s never been owned, has no baggage more than any other shifter, and the value of that is high. He’s also educated some because mostly business men like yourself tend to want ocelots.”

“How much?” He named a price and I just about fell over. We discussed it some, and after I offered to invite one of his people of my choosing to some of my parties, talking up the fair and wonderful deal they’d given me for my beautiful and talented slave that everyone there would of course love after Cecil was settled, drumming up their business, I talked him down twenty-five percent.

Which still ended up being twice as much as I’d planned on spending when I’d walked through the doors that night, but something I could still easily afford without blinking. Cecil was one hell of an investment though and he had better pay off.

“These are your extra instructions,” the man informed me after I signed the paperwork. “Tips and insights to owning a cat shifter, specifics on ocelots that you will want to learn so you fully benefit from having him.”

“All right, good,” I agreed, tucking it in the pocket of my tux jacket. “How do we do the imprint thing?” He waved over the guy by Cecil, and moments later, the headphones were off and my new investment was racing to me.

“You still bought me, sir?” he breathed when he reached me, his eyes big as saucers.

“I keep my promises,” I murmured, staring into his eyes. “We will have a lot to discuss in private on the way home but I expect you to agree to all my terms, Cecil. You are mine now, and I do not tolerate bad investments, do you understand?”

“I will be perfect for you, I promise. If you tell me what you want, I will do anything and everything for you,” he whispered as his eyes filled with hope.

“Good.” I took his hand, and we were led to a small room off the makeshift office.

I disrobed as I listened to what was about to happen, Cecil already in place on his hands and knees as people cleaned him up and prepared him, shaking with nerves as he watched me. God, what this had to be like for him. When I was ready, I took a few deep breaths and moved behind him, over him. I kissed his shoulder and pressed my lips to his ear since we had an audience.

“I will be a fair and kind master, I swear it to you,” I murmured. “All my employees know me as a good boss who gives as much as he takes. I never really wanted this—to buy a slave—any more than I’m sure you want to be one but it’s expected of both of us in life and I just wanted you to know that. So we’ll cut each other a little bit of slack as we figure this out together, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” he hissed, pushing his ass up against my groin in a blatant offering and my brain turned to mush as all the blood that had been helping me talk so logically to him pooled in my lower half with need for him. I lined up my cock and thrust inside my cat shifter, moaned at how his tight ass sucked me right in. It was hard to go slow with how good he felt or the strangeness of the situation. I wrapped my arm around his chest as I pulled him towards me as I shoved deeper into him.

Cecil mewled and cried out, clawing at the carpet in a way I didn’t think was an act or rehearsed. I had to know for sure.

“Don’t be fake with me,” I growled in his ear. “When it’s us, I want the real you, not the slave in a brothel.”

“This is me,” he swore, screaming as I spread his legs wider. “I’m never this vocal when I’m sampled.” I glanced up at the coordinator of the brothel whose eyes were bugging out and gave me a slight nod.

“Good.” I kept going, trying to pay attention to when I was getting close. The moment came and I pushed Cecil’s shoulders to the floor. “Submit to me, Cecil.”

“I do, I do, master,” he moaned, his face turned to the side. I pushed up his electronic collar as far as I could and bit the nape of his neck as hard as I could as I started to climax, enough to break the skin at least. I felt a rush of something as I came, almost like that panic before the impact of a car crash, and then I filled his ass with my cum. Cecil screamed as he finished as well and then started to spasm.

“Pull out of him,” the coordinator instructed the second I was done. I did and Cecil turned on his side, staring up at me with wide eyes. “He’s shifting.”

“The collar!” I gasped, looking to the man. He rolled his eyes and shook the remote. I didn’t know what that meant, but when I glanced back at Cecil, I saw the lights on his collar were off. Oh. What game were they playing? In the blink of an eye, Cecil was gone and the cutest ocelot sat before me yowling.

“That’s how we know the imprint takes,” the coordinator explained as I stood on shaky legs. “The need to shift is so strong and overwhelming that they can’t control it and will blow their own collars if we don’t deactivate them.” He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Went through quite a few of them learning that.”

“Good to know,” I mumbled, ready to toss my cookies at how easily this dick talked about people dying just because they were shifters. I wanted to get the fuck out of there. Then I looked at Cecil. “Wait, so it’s done. What do I do with him now?”

“You take him home. He’s yours,” he chuckled, shooting me a glance like I was a moron.

“No shit,” I snapped as I yanked on my clothes and nodded to the three foot cat staring at me. “What do I do with him like that?”

Oh, he’s sentient. He’s imprinted. He won’t run away. Give him a bit and he’ll shift back. You can stay and enjoy the ball, head home, whatever. We’re done here. We have other clients to attend to. Have a nice night and thank you for your patronage, Mr. Morgan. I’ll be in touch about someone from our establishment attending your parties.” He held out his hand, and I reluctantly shook it because it was good business to be polite.

I finished dressing and glanced down at Cecil now that we were alone. “Um, come here?” He easily jumped up into my arms and I grunted as I caught the three foot, thirty pound ocelot. “This is too weird.” He licked under my chin as I carried him out of the room and then the office. “So you understand me just fine?” Cecil nodded. “Do we need to get your things from the brothel?” He shook his head, and if a cat could roll his eyes, I think this one just did at me.

Right. What possessions did slaves have?

I gave the valet the ticket for my car, the man giving me a funny look as I held my ocelot. Yeah, that was a new one for me too. I kept my best business face on as if I were holding a briefcase and not a fucking cat. It was awkward, but I think we pulled it off as long as I kept from petting him like some fucked up Bond villain thing. When the kid pulled up though, I was relieved and tipped him before slipping in the driver’s seat. I let Cecil hop onto the other one and took off.

“I’m not really sure where to start,” I mumbled after making a few turns and putting some distance between us and that ball. “So I’m just going to get the business out of the way and you can ask questions later when you’re back in human form I guess. I have a penthouse apartment I own at one of the most expensive luxury buildings in SoHo. You will learn to act as if you belong there. I know there are other shifters there, and they wear clothes, not much of them, but I’ve seen them with collars and they wear them.

“I’ll have to check with the building management about rules since you don’t have a collar and we’ll go from there on that. I also have a house in the Hamptons. That’s where the more lavish weekend parties are thrown. I have dinner parties and poker nights at the apartment. You would think poker night meant tits and girls, but no, apparently I’m supposed to provide entertainment that means getting their dicks sucked, something exotic they can’t get everywhere else and they can be naughty with.

“And since I’m gay, I bring the perfect excuse for them to say they tried something they’re not into even if they might really be. I don’t know. I thought poker night was actually about poker, betting, drinking too much, and mixing some business and making friends. I guess we’ll just start somewhere and see where it goes. But my goal is in three days when they show up again, you are fabulous, sexy, charming, flirty, serve them drinks, entertain them however they want.

“I want to make my poker night the most talked about poker night in SoHo, and after what I just invested in you to help me do that, I want a regular rotating calendar of people who matter to help me keep making connections going forward. That’s where I plan to start. We move outwards and upwards from there. Business is good but it can always be better.” I shut my mouth as I raced along the expressway, realizing how much I was droning on like a fucking board meeting instead of talking to a goddamn person about getting fucked.

But that had been what I had hired him for and he’d known that. He’d known that and asked me to buy him anyways. I might have to remind myself of that a lot but he had.

“I understand, sir,” he whispered. I jumped, not having noticed he’d changed back and swerved the car enough to almost go into the other lane. I righted us and clutched my chest with my free hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to glance over and see I was a man again either. I didn’t know how to warn you.”

“No, no, not your fault,” I panted as I tried to remember how to breathe again.

“Do you prefer sir or master? I was trained for sir in more private situations but master at public affairs,” he inquired as if taking mental notes.

“Um, I’m not sure. Maybe we should start with what you’ve been trained for?”

“In the arts of sexual pleasure of course,” Cecil purred as he crossed his legs on the seat and buckled himself in before ticking off on his fingers. “Tantric and Kama Sutra before moving into more fetishisms. Massage, pressure points, and a little bit of acupuncture but then that program was cut because no one trusted slaves sticking needles in them.”

“Wait, you’re saying you’re completely trained and qualified to give me a professional massage when we get home tonight?” I interrupted, shooting him a disbelieving look.

“Yes, sir, it’s in all my paperwork,” he confirmed with a shy smile. “Swedish, Aromatherapy, Hot Stone, Deep Tissue, Shiatsu, Thai, Reflexology, Reiki, and Trigger Point. There is a reason I was so expensive. We obey without question or fail once we imprint so it’s worth it to train us. You can continue my education if you prefer and I can be an asset, I promise you.”

“God knows I could use a massage,” I sighed, pleased at the surprising turn of all of this but still having trouble catching up.

“It would be my pleasure to touch you in any way you want, sir,” he purred, moving closer to me in his seat. “I am yours now.” He didn’t touch me but he stared up at me as if waiting for word that he could. It was weird. But fuck knew it had been a night for weird.

“Why don’t you tell me what else you’ve been educated in?” I blurted instead, uncomfortable with his instant intimacy with me.

He shrugged. “Lots of things. Light bookkeeping, party planning, events coordinating, reading, writing, I can carry basic conversations in a few languages but I only touched on those. I liked learning them though and I think I had a knack for them. My instructor said I did. I’m not very good with computers. They didn’t want to risk us communicating when we weren’t being watched, and I need to brief myself better on pop culture, but no one really wants to talk too much about the latest movies with the slave they want to bend over.

“Though I do find it’s best to be prepared. I think I could easily handle your preparations for your poker night if you give me a budget and tell me the parameters of food and drink you prefer, where you normally order from in the area.”

“You are just full of surprises, Cecil,” I mumbled, glancing at him again. “You might just be the best investment I’ve ever made.”

He smiled brightly at me. “I promise I will try to be, sir.”