Seven Days
by RevTrout
Day Three
At about 1 am Wednesday, in a desperate bid for sleep, I took two allergy pills. I don’t have any allergies that I know of, but somewhere along life’s journey, I’d found out that the things consistently hit me like knock-out pills. Blessedly, the pills of earliest Wednesday proved up to the task. Perhaps a half hour passed before I was unconscious.
I woke at 11 am to the sound of A-Ha singing Take On Me. My radio doubles as my alarm clock. I lay in bed, listening to the song and wondering about the people with whom I share this planet. Their individual lives. I felt a silent awe over the countless variety of human activities that were occurring right then, at that moment.
Right now, quipped some irreverent mental voice, at this very moment, a newly captured sex slave lies naked in her comfortable bed, listening to A-Ha and thinking about stupid shit.
I got out of bed and made the best of my wait for evening. Brandy hadn’t given me a time at which to expect my party guests, only “evening.” That was something, at least. Brandy Miller tended to mean what she said, so I felt somewhat secure in the hope that I had the afternoon in which to prepare uninterrupted.
There would be little point in sharing all the intimate details of my preparations. The night before, during a period of hours that overlapped somewhat with my required butt plug work, I had also gotten online and completed my real-world “office” work. So that was out of the way.
The day was spent shopping for snacks, then cleaning my house and preparing myself. I did give perhaps a half hour to the payment of various bills, but the details of that torrid experience are best left unprinted.
Throughout the shopping trip, I struggled with an almost panicky sense of wrongness. Brandy had permitted me to be uncollared in public, and for discretion’s merciful sake I took advantage of that opportunity. Nonetheless, I felt desperately exposed to everyone who so much as glanced at me. In a perfect circle about my bare throat, I felt the collar’s mark. I was fiercely aroused by this frightened sense of nakedness, and that only served to increase my panic. A vicious cycle.
Of course, I returned the collar itself to my throat as soon as I got home. As I stood before the bathroom mirror and worked the buckle, I noticed within my heart a sense of acceptance. The collar felt right. At the very least, it was brutally honest.
When evening at last drew near, I considered the fact that I could remove the collar once more, before the guests arrived. It depended upon one’s interpretation of such ideas as “in public,” but I felt confident that Brandy would allow me to greet these strangers uncollared.
I left the collar on. I suffered no illusions about the upcoming party, and had decided that a bit of brutal honesty, from the very beginning, would do no harm at all in the long run.
Besides the collar, I wore black panties beneath designer jeans, and a slightly overlarge, yellow t-shirt that bore in black print the slogan, “Where are we going? Why are we in this handbasket?”
No bra. No point, I’d decided.
They arrived, all together, at 6:11 pm. They were all dressed casually but well, and were obviously in high spirits, laughing among themselves over some comment that Brandy made as I was opening the front door. Besides Brandy, there were three young men and another young woman, all of them barely out of high school.
Brandy turned and greeted me delightedly, throwing her arms about my neck in a brief, brisk hug. Behind her, everyone looked at me and smiled. Following Brandy’s cue, I returned her excited-friend noises, then invited them all into my home.
Brandy first introduced me to Pagan, a short, muscular guy who might share a gene or two with Ricardo Montalban. Pagan, I’ve since learned, is actually his last name. He has dark, brooding eyes that become miraculously sunny whenever he smiles. Having become well acquainted with his endowments by the time of this writing, I can say that he is the most perfect specimen of raw, insatiable maleness that I’ve so far encountered.
When I first met him, there in that front doorway, Pagan already had an enormous erection pressing against his jeans. He caught me staring, and his smile turned briefly gentle. For a moment, I was utterly disarmed.
Next came Marlena, a petite girl with very dark, fine, shoulder-length hair and exquisitely clear blue eyes. A devastatingly pretty girl, if one can imagine a prettiness that devastates. From the way she and Pagan held hands, I mistakenly believed she was his girlfriend. When Brandy introduced us, Marlena gave me a polite if distracted smile, and then let Pagan lead her away, into my living room.
I then met Kenneth, a charming and flamboyant young man whose every word and gesture seemed at first to quietly scream “gay.” Kenneth’s hair was as dark as Marlena’s, raven dark, and his eyes were as blue as hers, but there the resemblance ended. Kenneth’s flesh was nearly as swarthy as Pagan’s, his face expressive, his mannerisms expansive. His dark hair was short and shaggy, his lips full, his big teeth a little crooked, his smile a little... twisted.
His eyes shone like Brandy’s often did, sizing me up exactly as a wolf must assess its prey. When Brandy introduced us, he took my hand and told me in French that he was enchanted by my breasts. I smiled and meekly thanked him, also in French. This surprised and delighted him, as I’d imagined it might.
I then met Oliver, a tall, gangly young man who blinked myopically at me through a pair of reasonably thick spectacles. He, alone among them, dressed in a fashion more punk than prep. His head was shaved, he wore a spiked collar over a slashed black t-shirt, one of his eyebrows was pierced, and he said nothing to me when we were introduced. He just took my hand, gave it a light squeeze, then moved past me into the house, leaving Brandy and me alone in the front doorway.
Brandy reached into her bag, carefully withdrew her laptop, and handed it to me. Then she casually stuffed a coiled ear bud attachment into one of my jeans pockets, sending a dizzying thrill through my flesh in the process. Finally, she stuck a little capsule in my mouth.
“Swallow,” my Mistress absently instructed me, and I obeyed.
Brandy closed and locked my front door, then turned and gave me a moderately detailed series of instructions. I was to take her computer up to my room, close the door behind me, wait fifteen minutes for the pill to take effect, and then expose myself to her next set of audiovisuals. Brandy told me how to set it up. The computer would be centered on my bedspread, while I bent at my waist over the foot of the bed. My pants and panties were to be about my ankles.
Curiously hooking a finger beneath the waistband of my jeans, Brandy saw that I was wearing black panties for her. This seemed to equally please and amuse her, and earned me a brief, affectionate scratch behind one of my ears. I didn’t know whether to purr with pleasure or weep with shame.
She told me a bit about other files in her computer, hinting that possession or even knowledge of the wrong ones might lead to a turning of the tables. I might gain power over her. Holding my gaze, she explained that I was to access only the file she named. I would leave everything else alone.
When the audiovisual had run its course, I was to close the computer, leaving it and the ear buds on my bed. I would dress, visit the bathroom if necessary, make sure that I was absolutely clean and properly scented, and then return downstairs.
She finished her instructions and sent me on my way.
I obeyed.
I don’t know if anyone came into the room while I watched my video. I only know that no one touched me or otherwise made their presence known. Had it been otherwise, they would have found me prepared for them. Throughout the audiovisual, I could feel the wet heat of my horrifyingly eager pussy. I was... horny. Like the worst of poorly raised school girls, I ached to be touched, intimately. When had this begun happening to me? I still don’t entirely know. When do any of us begin our first steps along this, or any, path?
Returning downstairs, I found the party in full swing. The snacks and sodas were well on their way toward being entirely consumed, and a half-full liquor bottle rested on my coffee table, which had been shoved well off to the side of the room. Brandy and her friends sat or lay about the living room, listening to my stereo and playing some word game.
“Hey,” Marlena called out, looking up. “Noa’s back!”
The boys cheered, and Brandy laughed, clearly delighted to see everyone having such a good time.
“New game,” Kenneth announced. “I Never.”
“Truth or Dare,” Marlena countered. Pagan, Oliver and Brandy offered their enthusiastic support of this idea, and Kenneth smiled in gracious acceptance.
“Okay,” he said, “but you have to go first. Truth or dare, Marlena.”
“Oooooh...” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Truth.”
“Have you ever allowed Pagan to have you anally?” Kenneth asked.
Marlena bit her lip, then made herself give a hurried nod. There was more laughter, and Pagan looked quietly pleased.
“Okay, my turn,” Marlena said. “Truth or dare... Noa!”
“Oh, let her get settled in first,” Kenneth objected. “She just came down! Want some bourbon and Coke, Noa?”
“No, thank you,” I said, then looked at Marlena. “Dare.”
“I dare you to French kiss Brandy.” Marlena’s eyes shone with wicked anticipation.
Brandy was sitting in my favorite sofa, presiding over the party like a queen over her realm. As I approached to kneel beside her, she smiled fondly at me. My heart thudded, and I felt something that was not quite dizziness.
“Please,” I nearly whispered, trusting the stereo music to give us some privacy. “May I kiss you, Mistress?”
Her eyes shining, her smile widening, she nodded. And so we kissed.
And we kissed, and we kissed, and in that moment she might have bid me die for her, and I think I would have obeyed. She owned me, and she had proven her willingness to use me as nothing more than a receptacle for the pleasures of herself and others, and I very clearly understood that I should... that I must hate her.
And still we kissed, and I was hers, utterly. Around us, the air filled with appreciative whistles and cat calls. At length, something in her relaxed and I knew that she was done.
“Truth or Dare,” I said, settling onto my bottom at my Mistress’ side. “Oliver.”
“Dare,” he suggested, closing the paperback novel that he’d been discreetly reading. He then turned upon me his full, frank attention. I felt everyone else’s interest quickening around us.
“I dare you to French kiss Pagan,” I said.
There were some chuckles, but they seemed directed more toward myself than Oliver. Wordlessly he gestured, and Pagan immediately moved over to kneel by Oliver’s side.
Their kiss made clear to me that whatever the other relationships between these people, Oliver enjoyed a totally dominant role over Pagan. Though Pagan was easily the more muscular, the more overtly virile of the two, he surrendered completely to Oliver’s attentions, which were far from gentle.
After perhaps three seconds of this, Oliver pushed Pagan away. Pagan immediately returned to his place beside Marlena, and they exchanged a fleeting glance. In that brief exchange I saw his mute need for comfort, and then a grateful softening of his eyes as it was given.
“Truth or Dare, Noa,” Oliver said, cocking a pierced eyebrow.
“Truth,” I breathed, discovering in that moment just how terribly Oliver could frighten me. I didn’t understand then what could scare me any worse than what I was already feeling. I only knew that whatever it was, Oliver possessed it.
“If you and I were having sex, doggy-style, do you believe you would enjoy it?”
“Yes,” I replied at once, then had to bite back a compulsion to add, Master. I discovered that I was flustered, uncertain. I had to avert my eyes. “Tr... Truth or D—”
“This is getting old,” Brandy interrupted. “Next game! Call it ‘Statues.’ Because Noa is our hostess, we have to take turns making statues out of her. You win a round by being the first to guess what she’s a statue of. Anyone want to go first?”
“Well, since it’s your idea,” Oliver said, “why don’t you demonstrate for us?”
“Sure,” Brandy agreed. “Get on your hands and knees in the middle of the floor, Noa.”
I obeyed, and Brandy straddled me. “Heigh ho, Silver!” she cried, and gripped one of my ears, twisting it painfully. I could feel that she was waving her other arm in the air.
“So... then she’s a horse,” Kenneth guessed.
“Yep! Kenneth wins, so now it’s his turn.” Brandy dismounted amid a scattering of mock applause. I nearly hung my head at that moment, knowing that even this thin pretense of fellowship had come to its end.
“Noa,” Kenneth said from behind me, his voice sounding smugly thoughtful. “Do stay like you are, there, but take your pants and panties down to your knees. I need your lovely little ass for this one.”
He bent over me and whispered instructions into my ear, his breath scented with peppermint. Then he penetrated my ass with a rigid, wetted finger. I robotically shuffled around the floor, yapped in an annoying monotone, sat up on my haunches and robotically begged for a treat.
“One of those little battery-powered kids’ toys,” Oliver finally guessed. “Has a remote control on the end of a wire, you know? She’s a yapping dog, Oliver’s arm is the wire or something. Cute choice for where to attach it.”
“Correct,” Kenneth said, withdrawing his finger and returning to his seat. I stared straight ahead, as Brandy had taught me to do when faced with uncertainty, and waited to see what would happen to me next. I knew that I was blushing furiously, and in fact very close to actual tears of shame.
As I had expected, there was no further pretense that I was hosting a party. I was the party, of course, and we all understood one another.
“Okay, Noa,” Oliver said, sounding almost weary as he strode languidly over to crouch beside me. “Take your shirt off, then get back into that position.”
I obediently stripped off my t-shirt and cast it aside, then returned to my hands and knees, staring straight ahead. My jeans and panties remained about my knees.
Oliver rose and went into my kitchen, then came back with a large Tupperware bowl, which he set upon the floor beneath my hanging breasts. Casually taking a breast into each of his hands, he began to knead them, squeezing and tugging, making an obvious show of “milking” me. Despite his firm grip, his long fingers felt somehow delicate in their touch.
“You’re a farmer, she’s a cow,” Marlena said, sounding bored.
“Sorry, no.” Oliver caught my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and tugged. Then he returned to kneading me.
“She’s a farm animal of some sort, and you’re a weenie for specifics,” Brandy commented.
“True on both counts. But which animal?”
“A goat,” Kenneth said with finality, sounding mildly annoyed. “I win. Brandy, do I really have to come up with another statue? Or can I just go ahead and fuck her?”
I must leave a mystery what was said in reply. My Mistress has instructed me to relate no more specifics about what went on at that party. She explains that it was a private party, and must to some degree remain so.
I am permitted to relate some generalities.
For the remainder of the night, Brandy was something of a mystery. She was as casually merciless in her usage of me as she’d ever been. My body and my mind, my pleasure and my pain were nothing more than objects of entertainment for herself and her friends, and she delighted in coming up with new games for them to play upon me. She orchestrated my debasement in grand and creative style, and my occasional orgasms served only to punctuate her mastery over my whole self. And yet, from the moment of that kiss, I was ready to endure my tortures for her sake. From that moment, I believe I clearly understood and accepted the more secret textures of our relationship.
Kenneth was, and remains, a genuinely evil young man. Kenneth savored me on that night, and has since referred often to its various activities. Kenneth used me frequently and with wanton thoroughness on that terrible night, slaking lusts that tended to be unnatural in the extreme. He marked me, sometimes until I bled. After obtaining permission from Marlena, he set Pagan upon me, directing Pagan to mount my mouth, and then my sex, and finally my ass, with that overwhelming cock of his. Pagan and I endured several naughty positions together, all for Kenneth’s dark amusement. Kenneth casually mastered me on that night, and he enjoyed it so much that he’s been back several times since, looking for more. His success rate has always been directly proportionate to my Mistress’s opinion of him.
Pagan’s appetites seemed absolutely natural. They also appeared to be bottomless. He simply loved to fuck me, for absolutely as long as he was permitted to, and I could tell that he genuinely wanted me to enjoy it as well. Pagan was a considerate lover, gentle whenever he was allowed to be. Perhaps it is best that this was not always an option. Because of the things that he did to me in obedience to our owners’ directions, we were spared from any danger of falling in love.
With Oliver, I was granted no such reprieve. With Oliver, I fell in love. Later, though. Not on that night. Not remotely on that night. Oliver was so vicious. His disinterest in me was so shatteringly profound. He used me when necessary for politeness’ sake. Beyond that, he mostly drank and read his book. He was the first to leave, that night.
Marlena is like Brandy in many ways, and their friendship is a very close one. Toward the end of the night, when everyone else had enjoyed their fill of me, Brandy and Marlena led me upstairs. They took me to my bathroom, where they bathed me and groomed me. Then, in my bedroom, they controlled and comforted me. When I wept, they held me.
And then Brandy left me alone with Marlena for awhile, under her sole authority with no one else watching. I was to treat Marlena exactly as I would Brandy, without exception. Marlena explored me more intimately than I had remotely expected, gently breaking my whole self in to the concept and practices of servicing her whole self. I performed exquisitely for her. She told me so.
While Marlena had her pleasure of me, Brandy stood guard outside the bedroom door. I know because at one point I heard her swearing at Kenneth, inviting him to fuck off and leave us alone.
Late that night, Brandy and Marlena slept in my bed, their limbs intertwined. I was allowed to sleep at their feet, and for this I gratefully licked their ankles and suckled upon their toes. This made them giggle and flinch, but they permitted me to finish my love offering, and their pleasure in me was achingly sweet.