Breaking Esther – Part II
In a rather seedy part of town she finds herself in a filthy and smelly public toilet. She had considered backing out, but she was in such heat that she couldn’t forego her pleasure for even one minute longer to look for a more suitable location. She looked down at the filth, the graffiti scribbled over the walls and the excrement on the floor. There didn’t seem to be any seat, but in spite of her disgust, or perhaps because of it, she was too far-gone. She pulls up her skirt and takes her knickers off entirely, pushing them down her long legs and stepping out of them. She stares at them in her hand for a moment as a suggestion enters her head. She looks down at the water in the bowl of the toilet and plunges her knickers into it. She briefly wonders whether it is clean, but before she could think too much she rings out her panties, sinks her dildo deep into her cunt and then pulls her knickers back on. They feel cold and clammy and she loves the feel of dirt and degradation that she has just put herself through. She presses the wet cloth against her skin and looks at her dark bush revealed through the semi transparent material. She pulls her panties up higher forcing the dildo deep within her and then settles down on the toilet facing the wall at the back. She presses the crotch of her panties against the rim of the bowl forcing the artificial penis still deeper inside her.
Reading the graffiti scribbled on the wall, her juices start to leak out and mingle with the dirty water in the toilet. She imagines her neck with a metal collar around it and a chain connecting her to the down pipe, the door of the cubicle open and her wet transparent knickers visibly holding her vibrating penis buried deep in her cunt in full view to anyone who enters. She presses her ass back down impaling herself further and orgasms several times. She was so turned on she could not help herself from moaning loudly inside the cubicle, in spite of hearing people moving about outside and realising that they must be able to guess what she is doing, yet she could not stop herself, not amidst her paroxysms of delight. The filthiness of the place and her legs splayed open as she forced them wider apart drove her to shattering orgasms that mounted one upon the other. She revelled in her humiliation as she audibly quaked her pleasure.
Upon leaving the cubicle she found a woman making herself up who made some pretty nasty comments to her, and she ran out to escape her embarrassment. Outside there was a cool wind blowing and she could feel it rise up under her skirt. The coldness of the air cooled her sopping knickers more, and her juices that also coated the material made it stick to her. She realised that she must smell of her own arousal. She wanted to go back home and shower off, but she had to meet a friend in town shortly. What could she do? She went and bought some perfume in a store and tried to hide her scent. She went to the restaurant where they were to meet up and dived straight into the toilet. Once again she had to seek relief as her wet panties had driven her wild with desire. She also realised that her master was no longer leaving her alone once she had complied with his demands and that he was maintaining the pressure on her driving her to increasingly greater levels of excitement. She sat on the toilet and put her head in her hands. She would be seeing the doctor tomorrow; it was her only chance of escape.
Esther removed her wet panties and the scent of her arousal was plainly detectable on them. As she left she dropped them in a rubbish bin and dived out before anyone could notice what she had just done. She had not thought to buy another pair and so sat naked under her ordinary skirt waiting for her friend. As she waited her imagination was running riot and she realised that she was getting hooked. At last her appointment with the doctor arrived. She would be able to rid herself of this man who perpetually tormented her. How she had been counting the days, but now she was here in the waiting room waiting to be called she started to think of what she would say. Her turn finally came and she went in and explained about her fall whilst jogging and that since then she had realised that someone had inserted some kind of devices into her body that enabled him to make her aroused at any time. The doctor sat patiently listening and then gently, as if explaining to a child, told her that what she was suggesting was totally impossible: “You have no idea just how complex the nerve centres in a woman’s clitoris are. It would be quite impossible to produce a device that could artificially stimulate it by remote control.” “But I feel the stimulation all the time and I can hear him gloating over me. He has another device in my ear which can vibrate to simulate sound!” The doctor’s face became grave. Suddenly she realised how she must sound. “How long were you unconscious?” he asked simply. “Three days.” She said somewhat meekly. How stupid of her not to think of this before. She only had that voice in her head that told her she had these implants inserted. What if it were her own imagination? Perhaps this was all some kind of perverted fantasy that she had buried inside her and the fall had brought it out as an alternative reality. The doctor continued: “You must have had a very bad fall to be knocked out so long. It is quite possible that the blow to your head may have affected your libido. You must remember that your brain controls the way your whole body behaves. I can give you some sedatives that will help to reduce your libido, but I am very concerned about the fact you hear voices. I think you should see a specialist and have a brain scan.” He wrote out a prescription for her and told her that if she had any other symptoms at all to come and see him immediately.
As she walked to the chemist for her medicine she thought about what he had said. Of course it all made sense. How could someone kidnap her and implant such fantastical devices in her body? What for, he could have just raped her, or worse still held her as some kind of sex slave. Why set her loose where he could not do as he pleased with her? She started to feel upset at the realisation that she was mentally ill and that it was her own brain that drove these persistent thoughts through her mind and made her reach such intense orgasms. She went over the various things she had done over the past few days and realised how out of character they were. Could it be that the blow to her head could have caused a change in her character? It frightened her to think that these depraved thoughts had always lurked deep within her and the accident had somehow released them. She wondered whether the change would be permanent.
Waiting for an appointment to see the specialist she started to take her medication. At least this would stop her behaving so unforgivably. She took her pills and went off to the shops for some retail therapy. As she walked down the street the voice started in her head once again. It told her to turn off the main street and up one of the side streets.
She had no idea what was up here, but somehow her will to resist had deserted her. Her whole body was in limbo waiting to see what pleasures were in store for it up here, while her mind grappled with itself. Could she resist herself? As she walked down the street she saw that it was full of streetwalkers. They were wearing outrageous clothes like some huge neon sign proclaiming: “I am a whore. Approach me and fuck me. I wait here in the street to let you use me. I am worthless.” She had never been to a street like this before and seen at first hand women touting for business in such a lewd fashion. She felt fear as she walked down the road, what if someone was to approach her? What would she say? She wasn’t dressed as a hooker but she had a good figure and men may well come up and proposition her. She felt fear slide down her throat and settle in her stomach. Yet the fear seemed to magnify the familiar cloying ache that had started in her loins. She felt herself becoming wet in her anxiety and she started to picture a glistening trail of her juices seeping out down her thigh. She imagined a man lifting her skirt as she tried vainly to fend him off and being encouraged by her obvious evidence of lust. Her mind whirled around these images as she heard, almost subliminally, the voice recount to her how exciting it would be to become a street whore. She pictured hands on her breasts and the press of a wall at her back and the heat of a male figure pressing against her body, his urgency inflaming her own, his hands everywhere and she unable, or was it unwilling, to fend them off.
She started to walk quicker down the road and the click clack of her shoes on the pavement seemed to echo in her head. The place seemed dark and menacing, perhaps all the more so because it was echoing in the dark and menacing recesses of her mind. Quickly she regained the lights of the main street and suddenly the apparitions faded. She was back in the real world, and could only marvel in some shock at the way turning a single corner could take you from one world to another. She had never realised quite how close the world of seedy, cheap prostitution was to the commercial everyday life she was used to. It was happening all around her, not in some far distant place, just round a corner she had never turned before. Now she knew, she realised that walking the high street would never be the same for her. There would always be that lure of the hidden roads at the back. She would never be able to cross those streets her mind free with her own cares. Now her cares would include the attraction of the fear of turning down those dark alleys, revelling in the fantasy of being one of those street girls dressed up to sell her body to someone, anyone who cared to stop and approach her. She would not know who they were and they would not care who she was, only the raw craving for sex and the adventure would drive them both. She felt shame at these thoughts but made no attempt to turn her mind away. She was back in the world of her own high street, but her mind was still roaming those lanes and as she walked she could feel the dampness of her panties rubbing against her clitoris, already hot and engorged.
She dived into one of the shops to take her mind off her groin. She looked around the clothes and started to select different items to try on. She moved around the racks of clothes absent- mindedly and when she had collected enough she moved towards the changing rooms. As she took her clothes off she seemed to focus upon the items she had selected for the first time. With a shock she realised that all the blouses she had selected were very tight and low cut, the skirts short and she had even selected some black satin panties with a high cut. Why did she select these items, she never wore anything like this, they were far too revealing. She wondered whether she had chosen them herself or whether she had been instructed to choose them. Then she reminded herself that all these voices in her head were her own deep buried desires, but did she really wish to flaunt herself in this way? Dressed in these clothes she would look like the whores she had just seen. Of course, that was what it was all about. She had been absent minded and yet had still programmed herself to dress up as one of those prostitutes. She realised she was preparing herself to take up one of those positions on the corner of one of the dark lanes.
Suddenly it dawned on her that those back streets could not have been dragged out of her subconscious as she had never been down that neighbourhood before and had had no idea of what went on down there. She couldn’t have taken herself down there. The voices in her head could not be her own desires but those of someone real—her master who had taken such firm control over her that she even bought the clothes he told her, without even registering the fact that she was obeying another will.
She dropped the clothes on the floor and stared at herself in the mirror. She had a good figure, which was no doubt the reason he had chosen her. She wondered what she would look like dressed as a hooker. She picked up the clothes and started to put them on. Part of her brain told her she must fight and not do this, but another part craved the sexual release she got from obeying him. Besides she was alone and no one need know. She pulled the top on and was surprised at how much larger her breasts appeared once encased inside the tight top. She squirmed into the skirt and was amazed at how short it was. She bent over looking in the mirror and could catch a glimpse of her white panties with a very noticeable stain on them. She took them off and replaced them with the black ones and as she bent over realised just how hot she looked.
On leaving the shop she went in search of some high-heeled boots for her new outfit and having purchased them she went to the nearest toilet to change. She used her dildo on herself as she was again too aroused by what she was doing to ignore her desires. An ordinary girl had entered that toilet but a streetwise slut had left it. She had expertly applied the makeup she had just bought and knew that the way she must look would be irresistible to any man. She walked up the side streets once again and as she reached the corner of a small side alley a man approached her. She heard the voice in her head tell her to stop and turn towards him. She looked up into his eyes as he bent down and started to kiss her. His hands approached her breasts and he squeezed them through the fabric pulled so taught between her twin globes. He pushed her backwards until she felt the coldness of the wall at her back, without stopping he probed her mouth. She found herself responding she was again lost in her world of reverie and did not allow her brain to interrupt the sensations that were sweeping through her body. He continued to kiss her and started to raise her top so that his hands could encompass the bare flesh of her breasts. She felt her nipples painfully erect, so sensitive that even the fabric of her bra seemed to rasp against them. It was a relief when they were finally exposed to the cool air.
He dropped his hands to her skirt and she had to help him to raise her skirt over her buttocks until it was like a wide belt resting on her hips. His hand was at her cunt and she knew she was ready for him. His probing fingers dragged across her clitoris that was so active by this time that she caught her breath. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled them up pressing her back further into the wall. She spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist as he thrust his cock deep into her in one swift movement. She was impaled upon his member, swept along by her lust and unable to stop herself moan in his ear, “fuck me. Fuck this worthless piece of trash. Make me whimper.” She was lost in her fantasy and the smell of his scent as he kissed her neck and the continual pounding of his cock driving into her was forcing her into character. She knew she should rebel but she wanted this, she loved playing the whore and the experience of becoming a street prostitute was even better than the anticipation of it. She was moaning small mew like moans as her body bumped up and down against the wall in rhythm to his thrusting. He ejaculated inside her and she exploded with the release of yet another powerful orgasm, as she buried her face into his neck and breathed him in.
As he pulled out of her she straightened her skirt wondering what she should do now. Should she ask him for money? Should she just wait and expect him to make the move? Should she just run away from her shame? He pulled out some banknotes and thrust them towards her. She reached out and took them without taking her eyes off him. She was ready for him to take her again right away if he had wanted, but neither of them spoke and he moved away up the street. She stood there feeling used and somewhat nauseas at the thought of what she had just allowed him to do to her. She looked at the crumpled notes in her palm. It represented what she was worth. She hated herself, but the worst part of it all was that she had enjoyed it and craved more.
Over the next week or so she continued as a part time prostitute, using the money to supplement her wardrobe with more sluttish clothes. Some of her clients had taken her roughly others more tenderly. Sometimes she had gone to a small hotel other times, as with that first time, she was pressed up against an alley wall. She was becoming an expert at the various ways to pleasure a man, but each time, no matter what she allowed them to do with her, no matter what the man was like – old, young, ugly or brutal, no matter what he wanted – everything they did was always a prelude to the surety that she would reach orgasm. She craved the sex and the degradation of what she had become, desperate to cum. It was some time ago she had stopped taking her medication. She no longer wished to be free of her desires, she just wanted to always be in a state of arousal and orgasm and she learned how to achieve it with the smallest of encouragements.
One day she was approached by a man, who fucked her up the ass, pressing her breasts against the wall and spreading her buttocks wide for his enjoyment. There was nothing unusual in this, but what singled this punter out from the crowd was that afterwards he asked her to marry him. She was so shocked at what he had said that she had to ask him to repeat it, but even as he repeated it she heard the voice in her head tell her that she was to accept. This man was a gift to her from her master who wanted her to marry him. She just stared at him not knowing what to say, but deep down she knew she was going to marry him. Her master wanted it. She had long given up the attempt to break free from her master’s control and experienced such great pleasure from being remotely controlled by him. She wondered whether he had ever approached her in that dark alley and fucked her properly or was he content by the little hand job she had given him in the train – now seemingly so long ago.
The day of the wedding came and she was dressed in a beautiful white gown that flowed down from her waist. She felt very uncomfortable with this image of virginity after all she had gone through and what she had become. Yet she got through the service and she and her new husband set off for their honeymoon. He had booked a suite in a large fancy hotel and as they entered she went over to the window to look out over the view. It was fantastic and once again she found herself feeling unworthy of his affection. She wondered whether he had any idea that she was a slave to another man who could switch her on at a moments notice. She looked back at him as he beckoned her over to the bed. She went over and they hugged and then he gently pushed her onto the deep mattress. He lay on top of her kissing her and started to lift the many folds of her dress. He collected them all up around her midriff exposing her cunt that she knew was wet with her wanting. He moved around her and knelt on the bed above her head and looked down on her as he took hold of her hands, gently drawing them above her head. With a look of love in his eyes he bent down and kissed her once again and then called out: “She is ready!”
She looked quizzically at him. What was the meaning of this? Who was he calling to? Then to her horror she heard the door to the suite open and a man enter. She looked down between her legs towards this stranger who had entered. She struggled to free her hands but her husband held them firm as the stranger came over and climbed onto the bed between her legs. He pulled her knees further apart and looked down at her glistening crack. He then proceeded to take off his clothes – slowly almost ritualistically. When he was entirely naked she started to plead with him and with her husband, but neither took any notice. She looked at his long hard cock as it approached her cunt.
He entered her in one movement, sliding in effortlessly. Towering over her prone figure he rested his weight upon his hands and looked down at his prize. Suddenly she knew who he was, it was her tormentor at last, face to face. She could see the gloating look in his eyes but she could also feel the pull of her muscles around his member that was at last buried deeply inside her. They stared at each other in recognition for a moment, unspeaking as her wetness and the play of her muscles tried to draw him in deeper. They spoke no words, each knowing their roles in this relationship, without it having to be said. She was his. She may be married to this man that was there holding down her arms pressing them into the softness of the bedcovers while this stranger entered their bedroom, entered his wife and he was facilitating it, watching eagerly what would happen. She realised too that he was just another puppet to this man. They had married each other, but it was their joint master’s decision they be married and now they were both waiting his next instructions. It was all so clear to her as she started imperceptibly to gyrate her hips around his rod with her eyes fixed on his. “I’m glad to see you recognise me Esther. It has been a long time, but we have met before. Remember your first punter in that dark alley? I just couldn’t resist you any longer when you were all dressed up in those cheap whore clothes I got you to buy.” A thrill ran through her at these words. She was glad that he had not been able to resist her and that she held some allure for him. As these thoughts flashed before her she started to realise that she was dressed in her wedding gown because she was really marrying her master. This was their nuptial night and her legal husband was almost an irrelevance. As if reading her thoughts he said: “Yes Esther you are my bride, but you are not the only one. That is why you have your guardian here. I will come as a God visits His subjects and whenever I come your husband will make sure you are ready for me. Whatever you are doing you will stop and lay down with legs spread ready to be fucked by me. Throughout the rest of your life that is to be your one true purpose to bring me pleasure and to be always available for me whenever I call. You have no authority over me, however, and if I should not turn up for some long time then you will simply wait and get on with your life, but I will suddenly appear and then you will act out for me my fantasy as if I had never gone away. You are to always lust after me and desire my attention whether I choose to give you any or not. In this way will you know that your place is as my subject and I am your God. Never forget that Esther, otherwise you will bring out a cruel streak in me.” She listened to his words and silently acknowledged them. After all he was only stating the facts as they had been now for some time. Yet by stating them, by spilling them into reality then they seemed to force the fantasy out into the open to pollute the whole of her life. No more would she be able to turn the corner out of those dark streets into the light of her “normal” life, for this was to be her life now in its entirety. He was forcing her to confront her absolute submission. She was not able to choose her own husband or her own home, and she was being forced to accept that no matter how ordinary her life might seem, whenever he would show up she was to immediately and unquestioningly turn aside into that dark part of her that accepted him to ruin and degrade her. She was being forced to acknowledge beforehand how this degradation excited her and that contrary to actually loathing those times he might appear she would actually be desperately awaiting his return and hating the emptiness of her life in those times in between.
Very slowly he had started to ease his penis in and out of her as she continued to gyrate her hips. They still stared at each other making complete eye contact. She knew that she had no will to pull her eyes away from his and that he was demanding her to look him in the eye as he made the rest of his speech to her. “I will come often at least in the early months and will fuck you – either slowly and tenderly as I do now on your wedding night, or brutally without care for your pleasure. It will be often and regular and soon you will become pregnant. You will bear my children. You will not bear any children with your legal husband as I have trained him to suffer excruciating pain every time he enters a woman’s womb. He can now only obtain pleasure through masturbation or anal sex. You will service him with your anus, but if you try to lure him into that sopping pussy of yours he will suffer so badly that he will be unable to remain erect. In this way you will both know that whenever you do become pregnant – which will be several times, that I am the father of your children. Your husband’s job is to make sure you remain faithful to me and to facilitate your being impregnated with my seed. Once you become pregnant he will look after you and together you will bring up my children. As far as everyone else is concerned you will be a happy family and no one need know that your husband is helping, in full knowledge, to bring up my bastard children. He will be present each time I fuck you helping to dress you and prepare you, perhaps opening those sweet cunt lips of yours to facilitate my penetration of his bride.”
Suddenly she was shaken out of her torpor by a stinging slap across her face. She stared confused as if she had suddenly awoken from a dream and unable to work out where she was or what had woken her. She looked back at her master and realised he was still resting on his hands. She could not move her own arms to bring her hands to her face and this made her remember her husband still holding her down while her master pumped slowly in and out of her vagina. She felt a cold stickiness on her face and it was starting to run over her cheek. She was still unable to put together the pieces of this puzzle as she fought to bring her mind back to reality. The cold stickiness had now run down her cheek and the side of her face. It pooled into the crack at the edge of her mouth and she felt it seep into her mouth. It was salty and cloying. Suddenly she realised what it was, her husband still kneeling above her head had just ejaculated over her face listening to the words of their master. He had been so excited about preparing his own blushing bride to service his master whenever he should turn up and the thought that he would be bringing up somebody else’s children that his own wife had carried, had brought him to the point of ejaculating all over his wife’s face. This realisation brought home to her the measure of her own defeat, that they were both truly enslaved by this man, and all the time she felt the rising heat in her loins as she welcomed his shaft plunging into her.
“But that is not all Esther. You are not the only couple bringing up my children. I am free to sow my seed with all the beautiful women I have selected and they bring them up with their loving husbands. Yet I am not content just to procreate my genes but those of my children down through the generations so that my descendents will inherit the Earth. My sons that you will bear will one day learn how to make the same implants that I have inserted into you. They will go out and do the same as I have done to other women and so spread their seed and so on generation after generation. They will need to be taught how to dominate a woman and you will teach them how. You will tell them how to capture a woman’s mind into slavery as I have captured your mind. As they get older I will give them control over your own implants and they will then be able to put suggestions into your mind and switch on your arousal whenever they desire. You are not only to be my slave but the slave of your own children. Knowing how teenagers learning about sex are, I expect that you will have a rather degrading time, but you have already learned to enjoy that.
Your children will be able to demand sex from you and they will fuck you too. They may decide to lend you to their schoolmates forcing you to submit in front of them to their every immature whim. All this you will explain to them beforehand as they grow older and you will prepare them for this task. You are to make your children into your own master. When they start to ask about sex you and your husband will show them your cunt and the different ways that you can be pleasured. When I come to fuck you they will watch their own father stand back and allow me access to your cunt, and indeed he will do everything possible to make sure that you pleasure me properly. Your own children will come to learn that their own father is a eunuch of my harem, and that you are just a vessel for pleasure. They will learn from you how your husband helped in the rape of his wife so that she would carry the children of another man. He will help them to lure other women into their trap.”
As her master continued to speak his thrusts became increasingly more urgent, he rocked back and forth and she gyrated her body desperately seeking release from the mounting and demanding desire in her loins. She heard the words he spoke and was repelled by them, but the images he conjured up in her mind inflamed her own desires to a point beyond which she could bear. Suddenly she felt his penis throb and disgorge its contents into her. She felt or rather imagined the stream of his sperm pouring into her receptive body, polluting it for the rest of her life and her future generations. As she closed her eyes she could see his sperm flooding into her womb seeking out her own ovaries which she was powerless to protect and that would betray her in turn with the birth of her future tormentors.
She screamed as she came, and had never felt such an overwhelming pleasure. It made her whole body jerk for several minutes. Her breasts and her cunt lips were inflamed and burnt her. She felt the release to be free to pleasure. She could not stop any of the cruel things he was saying and this had allowed her to escape her normal levels of control during sex. It did not matter what she thought or what she did, all these terrible things would befall her and these images that she held transfixed in her mind would become reality for her, and this freed her body of guilt and released a torrent of pleasure that wracked her. She was accepting the delicious pain and pleasure that was to be her lot.