Part 2 — Enslaved:
I woke the next morning, feeling chipper and strangely exuberant. I stretched languorously, a feeling of well-being slowly flowing from my head down to my toes. When had I last felt this good?
I couldn’t remember. The last few weeks blurred together in a stew of irritation and loathing. I finally admitted it to myself: I hated my job. The constant demands, the last minute deliveries, all of it boiled up in a miasma of sudden frustration.
I wanted to call them and quit right then and there, but the specter of unpaid loans floated back through my mind. The responsibility felt crushing. Why couldn’t I ditch it all and have more fun like last night?
Wait, what had I been doing last night? My body felt better than ever this morning, ready to take on the world. Somehow, though, last night’s events strangely escaped me. I had just finished another awful day of work, after which I had reluctantly decided to hang out with my friend. I vividly remember her door opening in front of me, but then it all became hazy, as though some kind of fog had permeated my mind.
I thought about the visit some more, turning it over in my mind, but more details failed to emerge. I shrugged. Maybe we had just had an awesome drinking binge of some kind. I had certainly experienced memory loss from some epic parties in the past. I did vaguely remember lifting a glass to my lips, so that must be it. Strange to feel so well today, though. Shouldn’t I be having a hangover?
I didn’t have any more information, so I gave up trying to make the pieces of the puzzle fit together, and got ready for class. Today’s lecture was on physics, then I had to go back to work again for several hours. I resolved to give Zoey a call later to try and figure out how much I had managed to embarrass myself last night.
I arrived at the lecture early, already bored out of my gourd. The professor for the course was some old fossil they had dug up from the research ranks, and probably hadn’t taught a course in decades. He shambled in slowly from the backroom, laying his cluttered notes down untidily next to the overhead projector. “And now,” he wheezed lugubriously, “we are to discuss Kirchhoff’s laws. Open your textbooks to page three sixteen and we’ll begin.”
Half of the class slowly dozed off as he began transcribing a problem from his notes in chicken scratch onto the projector film. He moved quickly, without stopping to answer questions. His writing slowed, starting to seem more uncertain. “That’s wrong,” he said. “Can anyone tell me what went wrong here?” He squinted uncertainly at his audience, seeming to hope that we would have a magical solution to the problem.
I sighed deeply, but quietly, trying not to be too obvious. How were we expected to know the answer to a question he wasn’t able to properly explain? Didn’t he have the answer in his notes?
At that point I started to seriously doubt that the professor even knew his own subject matter. I quietly slumped in my chair, hoping to be unnoticed. Unfortunately, my luck had run out.
The professor looked around with watery eyes that suddenly settled on me. “Ms. Jessica,” he said truculently. “Perhaps you might be able to shed light on this matter?”
My face warmed. I had absolutely no clue. “I’m sorry professor, I’m really not sure.” It was a copout, but I really had no choice. I wanted to run in embarrassment, but I felt glued to my chair.
“I see,” said the professor, glaring at me with disappointment. I sank deeper into my chair, hunching over. The contentment I had felt earlier in the day had now completely deserted me. I only felt slightly better when nobody else in the class was able to answer his question either.
The rest of the hour consisted of him droning on about the properties of electrical circuits. The class didn’t exactly fall asleep, but it was a real effort on their part to even keep up the pretense of paying attention. I left as quickly as I could at the end of the period, desperate for some fresh air.
I wanted to decompress for a few minutes, but was forced to get a move on to work. The benefits of being a student assistant were few: the hours usually weren’t long, and the job site was on or near campus. Unfortunately, that was offset with being treated like dirt and being paid minimum wage. It was guaranteed that the job absolutely nobody wanted to do would end up at my door, such as it was. I didn’t actually have an office; it was more like a shared space where I rested momentarily before being given another arduous task.
Today I was stuck with a grunt work, as usual. I spent a few hours inventorying equipment and moving packages around. It wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating, but at least it kept the lights on – barely.
I was finishing up the last chore when my phone rang, the irritating synthesized jingle grating on my ears. Then reason I didn’t change it was because it was easily recognizable and nobody else had it on their phone. This is probably due to the fact that only I was crazy enough to endure it. “Hello?” I grunted. I was feeling cranky again.
“Hi, Jessie! It’s Zoey again! We had so much fun together yesterday, I thought you might like to come over tonight as well!” She sounded bubbly, as usual.
My first instinct was to turn her down, but a feeling of contentment that had been missing all day suddenly flooded throughout my body. I found myself unconsciously nodding my head, jerking my head up short when I realized what I was doing. I felt a little out of control, even giddy as I replied. “Sure!” I said, feeling strangely happy. “When should I arrive?”
“In about an hour,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I need some time to set everything up. Tonight you continue your journey!” She hung up before I could respond to her strange statement.
“Journey?” I muttered to myself. “What is she talking about?” I cleaned the place up before leaving, still curious about what Zoey could have meant. It took me longer than usual to coax the beat up car into starting that evening, which turned out to be fateful. I decided that instead of going home to change, I’d surprise Zoey by showing up early. Her comment had really pricked my imagination, and for some reason I felt like I just had to know what she was talking about.
I walked up to her front door and rang the doorbell. I paused, waiting for the familiar footsteps which never came. I rang again. “Zoey, are you there? It’s me, Jessie, open up!” I yelled, hoping for some response.
Nothing. Maybe she was occupied with something? She had mentioned that she needed some time to set up. I almost turned around and gave up, but some perverse instinct made me try the door handle. To my surprise, it was unlocked, the door swinging inwards silently.
I was instantly alarmed. Hopefully somebody hadn’t broken in. “Zoey?” I yelled, some panic in my voice now. “Are you okay?” I nervously closed the door behind me and moved in.
A wall of heat hit me as I moved into the foyer. I could feel droplets of water condensing on my skin. It felt tropical, like walking into a sauna. I decided against yelling anymore, not wanting to alert any nefarious persons who had broken in, and resolved to search the place. Maybe if I had decided to call the police at that point instead it might have ended differently, but the thought didn’t even cross my mind.
I tiptoed carefully through the unnaturally quiet home, pausing at each corner to slowly peek. I was ready to flee at any sign of burglars, but what I saw when I reached the kitchen was so bizarre it froze me in place.
The kitchen table had been shoved to the side, making room for the tableau that took center stage. Zoey stood stock still, her arms resting softly at her sides. Her head was tilted up; her soft long hair trailing down her naked body, incompletely covering her back and the swell of her breasts, which were clearly aroused. A large, green tube filled her mouth completely, leading up like a vine into an incomprehensible green mass that sat glued to the ceiling.
She twitched gently, moaning as the outline of something moved down the vine into her throat. It slipped down easily, the only sign a faint ridge on her neck as it pushed its way in. She stood motionless; her eyes closed to the world, letting the alien vine force-feed her.
I moved closer slowly, both disturbed and strangely intrigued. Intellectually I knew it was abhorrent, but I couldn’t prevent a visceral attraction from rippling through my body. I was close now, close enough to see more detail on the plant. The vine appeared muscular, powerful. The contrast between the olive green color of the vine and the soft red lips of Zoey was striking.
Suddenly, I couldn’t take anymore. This thing was assaulting Zoey, and she needed my help! I wrapped my hands around the nasty vine and tried to pull it from her throat. The thick, fibrous appendage refused to budge, seeming to laugh at my feeble efforts.
Zoey’s eyes flipped open, olive green irises staring at me intently. She wrapped her hands around my wrists, preventing me from continuing my unsuccessful attempt to remove the vine. Her lips curved into a smile as the vine pulled up, extracting itself easily from Zoey’s mouth. I stood there scared stiff, her hands locked onto my wrists like unyielding handcuffs.
She pulled me forward unexpectedly into a tight embrace, striking like a snake as she locked her lips to mine. Unprepared for her amorous intentions, I instinctively gaped at her brazenness. She took the opportunity to fill my mouth with some kind of liquid. As soon as it hit my tongue, I was in heaven. Stars filled my eyes and I started to relax, tasting the ambrosia.
She kept her mouth pressed to mine until she was sure I had swallowed the mixture before letting me go. I still sat there dazed, a strangely unfamiliar lassitude gripping my body. My mind stilled and I felt aroused. I wanted more of the delicious nectar.
Zoey smiled in understanding. “I know how you feel. Submissive, like a slave to the syrup. You want more, and you’ll have more, soon.” I licked my lips, paying more attention to the liquid dripping from her mouth than to the meaningless words that floated over my ears. She frowned briefly. “You came to visit me early, naughty girl!” I felt sad, distressed at her tone of voice.
“Don’t worry, we can make it all better.” She smiled again, flipping my mood back to happiness. She pointed to the mass on the ceiling. “Unfortunately, this one is my mistress already and wouldn’t be suitable for you, but…” At this point her smile became wider. She stepped over to the nearby half bathroom and opened the door. “…Here we have another, just for you!”
She took a strange green lump off a heater, moving back into the kitchen. A humidifier hummed along in the background, unnoticed in my current stuporous state. “Look!” She said in a cheery voice. “Your very own mistress is ready for you!”
She used a chair to press the odd lump to the ceiling, the mass sticking like superglue. The bottom vibrated visibly, a new olive green tentacle stretching down slowly until it hung there menacingly, suspended four feet from the floor. It jerked gently, some kind of liquid seeping from the rounded tip.
I stared at the liquid hungrily, but had enough presence of mind to prevent myself from getting any closer to the strange beast. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one in the room.
Zoey scooted behind me, pressing herself gently against my back. I could acutely feel her bare, turgid nipples pressing like bullet points against my shoulder blades. She pushed me forward gently, whispering into my right ear. “It seems bad at first, I must admit, but it gets better with time. You’ll feel great all the time, and you’ll never need to eat ever again! And mmmm,” she moaned softly, “you’ll be horny all the time. It used to take me an hour of masturbation to reach one orgasm, but when I do what my mistress wants, I get several without even trying!”
She shivered uncontrollably. “Mistress is really pleased with me now!” She announced with obvious pleasure. I moved forward to my doom robotically, unable to break away from my libido and her controlling grip.
The tube hung in front of me, swaying back and forth gently, as if it was seeking an orifice to plunge into. Zoey changed her grip unexpectedly, sliding her arms under my shoulders, moving her hands close to a headlock position. Instead of clasping her hands behind my head, she grasped my jaw on either side, forcing it open. “Over here, here’s a new slave!” Zoey exclaimed proudly.
I struggled weakly, unable to escape her superhuman grip, not even sure that I wanted to. The tentacle shot forward, seeking my partially open mouth unerringly. I tried to close my jaw, but was too late, the slimy tube already pushing into my mouth. My gag reflex triggered momentarily as the tentacle pushed deep, but it subsided as the tube pulled back slightly. There was nothing I could do as the tip of the appendage swelled up. It was now impossible to remove it until it had finished any work it was designed to do.
“Now comes the best part!” Giggled Zoey maniacally. With the tentacle filling my mouth, I was forced to breathe through my nose. I breathed heavily as it manipulated my body, feeling strangely aroused by the lack of control. It started pulsing gently, and I felt something wet in my mouth. The liquid touched my tongue and I immediately recognized it. This is where the syrup originated! My eyes lit up and a crazy grin tugged at the corners of my filled mouth. I started cooperating with it, sucking in time with the pulses, trying to extract as much of the addictive liquid as possible.
“Now you see, slave,” said Zoey triumphantly. “You will obey your mistress and she will take care of you. The mistresses are superior. We are merely their foot soldiers.” She shifted her hands from my jaw down to the bottom of my shirt, slipping them up and under my bra until she could cup my breasts gently. “Now, you will feel pleasure and become servient to your new mistress. You will obey and have pleasure. Once you have learned that lesson, you will pleasure others, obeying faithfully.”
I thrust my chest out, incredibly aroused by my bondage. I wasn’t able to resist the combination of liquid heaven dripping down my throat and Zoey’s fingers squeezing gently. I moaned in rhythm, starting slowly, but building to climax. I could feel myself starting to lose control. Perhaps obeying mistress wouldn’t be so bad? I orgasmed once, moaning for my captors, then lost consciousness.