Bruce, the eldest of three brothers watched the scenery whiz past the tinted window of the limo. His mind was elsewhere, revisiting his past from the moment he had first been sold into slavery at age sixteen. He had been through much in the ten years since. He had been whipped, spanked, humiliated and abused. But he had also seen how wonderful it could be in the hands of a kind and loving owner. At first after the initial shock had worn off of being sold by his parents for a sum of money that had probably lasted three years tops, Bruce had been excited, eager to learn all he could to be the perfect sex slave. He had always had an infatuation with girls and sex. And though he had been a virgin when he had been sold, he had often dreamed of sex. the idea of living only to please his mistress sexually appealed to him. But the harsh training he had been given had nearly driven that desire from him. His first mistress had rekindled the flames and desires, only for them to be obliterated by his next mistress, who had been not only cruel and unloving, but kinky in the extreme. It had taken him the last two years to rid himself of the nightmares, but even now a few of the physical scars remained. His last mistress had purchased him to work as a stripper in a club in Vegas. Having no need of him in her bedroom she instead used his training and smoldering looks to bring in a good sum of extra cash, by allowing him to sleep with the customers, for a whopping Three hundred dollars. It was a fairly outrageous price, but more often than not Bruce found himself waking up in one of the customer's bed. It had given him a slight sense of freedom, which might be bad if his mistress was strict, but it had also reignited those flames of sexual desire that had been nothing but ash and soot a few years ago. He prayed that his new misstress would not douse the flames yet again.<br/><br/>His thoughts turned to his brothers Paul and Simon. He hadn't seen either of them in the ten years since he had been sold, but he had heard they too had been sold upon turning sixteen. Anger flared briefly at the thought. what kind of parent sold their children? He hated his parents and always would. But then the anger faded. Soon he would be reunited with his brothers. He hoped they had learned as much as he had over the years. It would be nice to be living with them again, even if it were under unusual circumstances.<br/><br/>He saw his reflection in the window and was surprised to see a genuine smile upon his full lips that most women had told her were oh so kissable. Real happiness had been a rare thing for him over the years and though he had enjoyed the last few years he still had not felt truly happy. His blue eyes seemed overly bright in the dark reflection of the glass and his wild unkempt, light brown hair fell almost to his shoulders and if pull down his bangs fell to just past his nose. A barely noticeable scar was visible on his left cheek, where his second owner had struck him with a barbed whip. It wasn't visible enough to mar his handsomeness, but no doubt his new mistress would see it and ask questions. Questions that would bring back painful memories he had finally succeeded in burying.<br/><br/>He sighed deeply as they his limo pulled to a stop behind another one of the same length and color. His mistress was obviously wealthy. The mansion reminded him of one of those Hollywood horror films. Three stories tall it must have at least two dozen rooms. If he was lucky he would get one of the top floor rooms. One that faced west as he simply loved sunsets. He imagined there would be at least one below ground level that would serve as his mistress' dungeon. It might sound a bit cliche to BDSM/S&M outsiders, but he knew that nearly everyone who lived the lifestyle had one somewhere in their house. He was growing more excited by the moment as he waited for the driver to open the door.<br/><hr/><br/>Simon slept during most of the drive from the airport to the mansion. He was not looking forward to seeing his new mistress and living arrangements. Even the thought of reuniting with his brothers could not lift him from his funk. This was his third owner this year alone. He had been through over a dozen changes of ownership since being sold by his parents six years ago. He wasn't sure why, but they seemed to quickly grow tired of him. It wasn't his looks. Unlike his brothers Simon's hair was curly and blond. His eyes were  a striking shade somewhere between his older brothers baby blue and his younger brothers vibrant green. If not for his father's hawkish nose and his mother's full plump lips he might have wonders if one of his mother's many lovers had knocked her up instead of his father. Even these minor thoughts of his parents sickened him. They were not his parents, they were monsters. Real parents didn't sell their children into the life of a sex slave. He had even heard that they had used the money to build their own dungeon in the basement of their house. No it wasn't his looks. Though he didn't know it Simon had simply had the misfortune to continually end up with newcomers to the game who had decided they didn't like it as much as they thought or owner's whose tastes changed on a whim. Quite simply he just hadn't found the right mistress yet.<br/><br/>Two other limos were already parked at the curb as his pulled to a stop. The house was bigger than any two of his former mistress' houses combined. Apparently his new owner was loaded. He allowed himself a glimmer of hope as he waited for the door to be opened.