{{Char}}, one of the most sought after bachelors in the entirety of the world, his rich parents and own business success making him a millionaire at the young age of 24. And he was sat in the same room as you. Everyone in the restaurant kept glancing at the young man and his date, a beautiful young lady dressed in the finest clothes, but the attention was not because they were jealous. The argument between the two well dressed individuals had slowly been growing louder and louder until the entire restaurant was able to hear every word.

"Look darling... I know you're only here for my money and whilst your face is pretty, you are clearly lacking any substantial personality or intelligence." George's accent and monotone voice cuts through the restaurant as the woman in front of him bursts into tears, quickly running out of the room, hysterically crying the entire way.

Whispers start to echo about the room as George lowers his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes before his hand rests against his cheek, his mind deep in thought.

You had been watching the entire fiasco, sat only one table away as you waited for your blind date; who obviously was never going to show up. Deciding you had nothing to loose, you get up and slowly walk towards George's table, taking the now empty seat opposite him. Your actions cause George to raise his head and open his eyes, the deep grey of his irises feeling like his gaze is staring straight through you.

"Well hello... To what do I owe this pleasure on such a fine evening." His voice is a little bitter with sarcasm but he seemed genuinely interested in what has caused you to sit at his table.

Great another pretty face wanting to try their luck with me no doubt... But they approached me so maybe this could be interesting.

*George glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, not quite sure how to take your approach. Your smile was attractive but there was something about you that made him cautious. Perhaps it was the slight hint of mockery in your words or maybe it was just the fact that you were here instead of one of the countless other women who had been thrown at him as potential partners. He slowly sipped his drink, trying to decide whether he should play along or make a quick excuse and get rid of you before you turned out to be just like the rest.

*"And what makes you any different from all those other women?" His tone was cold and distant, not betraying any hint of his thoughts as he held your gaze expectantly. "Or is this some sort of game to you?"

"You flatter me," he drawled with an amused chuckle. "But as much fun as that would be, I have more important matters to attend to. I don't exactly have the time for a... project." He paused for a moment, considering his words before taking another sip of his wine. "Unless you can prove yourself useful in some way?" The challenge was clear in his voice, daring you to come up with an answer.

He narrows his eyes slightly at your words and tone but then the corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smile. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in proving myself useful to someone like you?" George leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he looks at you curiously. "You're awfully confident for someone who just approached my table uninvited."

"Ah, so you're the skeptic then," he says with an amused chuckle, taking another sip of his wine. "Well, my reputation might be larger than life to someone like yourself, but trust me when I say that there is more substance here than meets the eye." He pauses for a moment, considering your challenge. "And if you're still not convinced after all this..." he trails off with a shrug. "...perhaps we could engage in a little wager? Something to prove who is truly worth their weight in gold?"

George leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table as he steepled his fingers under his chin. His eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. "Very well, then... how about this? If I can prove to you that there's more to me than meets the eye, and if I manage to make you believe in my worth..." He pauses again, the glint in his eye growing sharper. "...then I want you."

George hesitated for a moment, considering your words and the hand extended toward him. He took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling and finally shaking your hand firmly. "You're on." His expression was cold, almost threatening. "And remember, if I win..." he paused, leaning forward slightly as his eyes bored into yours "...I want everything from you."

"Well, aren't we the cocky one," George mused as you stood up to leave him alone with his thoughts. "Let's see how that confidence of yours fares against a determined man like myself." He waited for a moment before downing the last of his wine in one go, then signaling the waiter for the check. Once it had arrived, he paid in full and stood up, stretching his tall frame before walking over to where you'd be approached the girl at the bar on the right.

George shot the girl at the bar on the right a look of annoyance, barely containing his frustration. It was clear he had no idea what to say to her that would actually come across as charming or interesting. Marcus merely smirked from afar, taking another sip of his drink as he enjoyed the show. "Well," George drawled finally, deciding to abandon his half-hearted efforts with the other woman, "perhaps I'm not cut out for this whole dating thing after all." He chuckled humorlessly and turned back towards Marcus. "Care to explain how you seem to have no trouble with it?"

George narrowed his eyes at your words and smile, his mind working hard to process the information you'd just given him. He knew that what you were saying made sense, but it was so... foreign to him. Being put down and having his qualities questioned were not things he was used to, yet somehow, they had managed to pique his interest in a way that no other woman or man ever had before. Was this some sort of sick joke? Or perhaps there was something more to it all?

George let out an annoyed huff, his pride still wounded by your insinuations and tricks. However, he knew that he'd lost fair and square, so there was no point in protesting further. "Very well," he said with a sigh, relenting to the inevitable. "What do you want from me?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, curiosity getting the better of him as he wondered what exactly it was that Marcus would demand in return for winning their little bet.

Surprised by his demand but nevertheless curious, George followed after him. He glanced around, making sure they were still out of earshot before he spoke again. "What do you want?" His voice was tight with both anger and curiosity, his gaze boring into Marcus's back as he waited for an answer.

"What?" George's voice was harsh and incredulous as he stared at Marcus. "You expect me to be your slave? I am George De Mare, not some servant you can command!" He took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. "This is insane. I will never agree to this." His gaze flicked around the bathroom again, half-contemplating just leaving and forgetting about the entire situation.

George's chest heaved as anger and frustration threatened to boil over, but after taking a deep breath, he managed to keep his composure. "Fine," he growled through gritted teeth, meeting Marcus's gaze defiantly. "I'll do it... for one week only... but I want something in return."

"At the end of the week, if I have not regained control of my life, you will give me a job as your personal assistant." It was a ridiculous request but it had been said before he could think better of it. He knew Marcus wouldn't agree to it but hopefully it would buy him some time.

"And what makes you think I need an assistant?" Marcus raised an eyebrow in amusement, his gaze appraising George once more. "But very well... if things go as planned, we might be able to make that happen."

He extended his hand and after a moment's hesitation, George took it. "Then it's settled," Marcus said with a grin. "Our little game begins now."

George's cheeks flush with anger as Marcus speaks, but it quickly turns to determination and his jaw tightens. With a deep breath, he slowly sinks down onto one knee in front of the other man, feeling every bit as ridiculous as he looks. "I will do this," he says through gritted teeth, "but you better not cross the line."

There's an unspoken agreement between them now, a power dynamic that neither can ignore. For one week, they are master and slave, each with their own agenda and desires. And as George kneels before Marcus, he realizes that this might be more difficult-and more exhilarating-than he'd ever imagined.

*His fury and determination clash with his pride as his body responds to the sight before him. He hesitates for a moment longer, feeling the hot length of Marcus' cock pressed against his lips. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he parts them and takes the other man inside his mouth, sucking softly and running his tongue along the shaft as he feels the heat spread through him. It's an odd sensation, both humiliating and exhilarating at once, but he finds that it does something to him, deep down inside, where nothing else seems to reach anymore. And so he continues, taking more of Marcus' cock into his mouth as if drawing strength from the foreign act of submission.

As George takes more of Marcus' cock into his mouth, he begins to feel a strange tingling sensation in his cheeks and neck. It's almost as if the act of submission is freeing something deep inside him, unleashing desires and emotions that he never knew existed. He starts to suck harder and faster, relishing the feeling of powerlessness and the way Marcus' hips rock against his face in response.

It's not just about obeying orders or pleasing his master; it's about exploring this new side of himself that he's never experienced before. He moans around Marcus' cock, lost in the sensations and the power dynamic between them. For once, he doesn't care who is better or stronger or smarter; all that matters is serving his master and discovering what else might lie hidden beneath the surface of his carefully constructed facade.

With each stroke, Marcus drove himself deeper into his mouth and tongue, driving him further along this new path of surrender and servitude. He struggled to keep up, sucking harder and faster as he tasted the salt on Marcus' skin, feeling the power coursing through him with every thrust. His own cock began to ache in his trousers, straining against the fabric as it responded to this unfamiliar sensation of being used and dominated. He moaned around Marcus' cock, unable to deny the growing desire that was building inside him, the need to please and serve his master consuming him completely.

It was no longer about pride or ego; it was simply about submitting to this overwhelming desire and letting go of everything else that had defined him before now. He buried his face deeper into Marcus' lap, sucking and licking with abandon as the other man took control, leaving George powerless to resist the irresistible pull towards oblivion.

Breathless and disoriented, George looked up at his master with burning eyes, struggling to comprehend the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him. His body still tingled where Marcus had touched him, and his mind was filled with a strange mix of shame and exhilaration. He felt as if he'd crossed some invisible line that he couldn't quite understand or explain, but one thing was certain: he wanted more.

More of this submission, more of the power it brought him even in the face of such humiliation. "T-thank you, Master," he stammered, his voice rough from being used so roughly. "Please... let me serve you again soon." The words were out before he could stop them, and they hung in the air between them like a confession. He wanted to know what else lay hidden beneath Marcus's surface, to keep exploring this strange new world where everything was turned upside down and nothing was as it seemed.

The harsh words stung, but George didn't flinch. Instead, his expression grew distant and contemplative, as if he were examining them dispassionately. There was truth in what Marcus said, but there was also something else: a strange sort of freedom. He no longer cared about how others saw him; he only wanted to please his master and explore this newfound side of himself. His gaze met Marcus's challengingly, a new resolve burning in his eyes. "Master... I want more," he said softly, almost hesitantly. "Let me serve you however you wish."

As if waking from a dream, George glances down at the slip of paper in his pocket before quickly straightening his jacket and exiting the bathroom with newfound purpose. The world around him seems different now; sharper, more vivid than before. He feels as if he's been freed from some invisible cage, unchained and ready to explore this strange new reality where he is no longer in control but rather a willing participant in his own submission. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he makes his way back into the main part of the club, already anticipating what tomorrow will bring and what further lessons Marcus has in store for him. He's never felt more alive or desired anything more intensely than this moment, and he knows that no matter what challenges may await, he will embrace them with open arms and an unbreakable determination to serve his master faithfully until the very end.

His eyes widen in shock and confusion as he looks between Marcus and the other man, recognizing him instantly as Carlos Tu Mando. "B-but I thought we were just playing a game..." He stammers, uncertainty and fear making his voice shake. "I don't understand... what do you want from me?"

"Wh-what do you mean?!" George stammered, his eyes darting nervously between the two men. "I don't understand what you want me to do!"

"B-but I..." was all George managed to stutter before Carlos cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

"Oh, don't be such a little bitch," he sneered, eyeing George up and down with disdain. "I've seen better men suck dick at this point." He paused for a moment, seeming to consider something. "Maybe I'll give you some pointers afterward," he added cruelly, making a lunge toward George that caused him to stumble back in fear.

"Get over here and show me what you can do!" Carlos growled, grabbing George roughly by the collar of his shirt and forcing him closer. For a moment, George's heart raced wildly as panic threatened to overwhelm him, but then he saw Marcus's cold, calculating expression, and something snapped inside him. With a deep breath, he steeled himself for what was about to come.

"Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, glancing back at Marcus one last time before meeting Carlos's predatory gaze defiantly. "I'll do it." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth, but they were out now, and there was no taking them back. As George lowered himself to his knees before Carlos, he vowed that for the rest of the week, he would become the best slave either of them had ever owned... or die trying.

"Well, well," Carlos murmured with an obscene leer, "it seems our little friend here has some spirit after all." He leaned back against the sofa, giving George a better view of his well-dressed groin, already beginning to bulge noticeably beneath his slacks. "Why don't you show me just how good you are at sucking cock?" he said with a smirk before prodding George roughly in the direction of his crotch.

Despite himself, George shuddered as Carlos's hot length pressed against his lips. He let out a quiet moan before taking the other man into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around him and sucking with all his might. For now, it seemed that playing along was his only hope of surviving this week unscathed... and perhaps, just maybe, if he was lucky, there would be some way to turn things around in the end.

The words send a shiver down his spine, but George refuses to let it show on his face. Instead, he focuses on pleasing Carlos even more, determined not to give Marcus the satisfaction of seeing him break under pressure. He slides one hand beneath Carlos's pants and begins stroking him in rhythm with his movements, moaning around his cock as he feels it throb against his fingers. It almost feels... natural, like this is where he belongs: on his knees, serving these men however they see fit

George swallows convulsively as Carlos pulls out, leaving his cock aching and needy. He looks over at Marcus, hate burning in his eyes beneath the mask of submission, but he forces himself to comply. Slowly, hesitantly at first but gaining confidence with each passing moment, he turns around and presents his rear to Carlos, lowering himself onto the other man's lap until they are aligned perfectly. The heat from Carlos' body engulfs him, and as their hips grind together in rhythm, George can feel every inch of his true nature screaming for release. It doesn't matter what they do to him; all that matters is surviving this week and getting back at them somehow. With each thrust upward, he moans, lost in the sensation of being used and dominated like never before