Seven Days
by RevTrout
Day Four
On the morning after Brandy’s party, I believe I was the first to wake. I lay there for what seemed a timeless moment, thinking.
It was a Thursday, and that meant the ritual of the 11 am Thursday office lunch and meeting. Food on the house, all hands present and accounted for, and expect to have Mr Kiefer pick your brain about what you’ve been up to that week. Attendance wasn’t in fact strictly mandatory, but Mr Kiefer appreciated a good, preferably written excuse if you were determined not to be there.
That, of course, was entirely Brandy’s business. I had told her about it the evening before, while Brandy and Marlena had been bathing and grooming me. Now I contented myself with patiently awaiting Brandy’s instructions on the matter. If she would have me lose the job entirely, then we were far past any point where I could resist her decision.
There had been a video camera again, the night before. Much of the footage was staged, to include very realistic scenes wherein I completely seduced each of my guests and then utterly corrupted them. Oliver had taken the camera with him when he left.
While I lay there thinking, I took time to once more simply compose my peace with the entire situation. I belonged to this young girl at whose soft, perfect feet I lay. Brandy Miller, my all-American girl-next-door babysitter, for mercy’s sake. She wore a woman-girl’s choice of pretty, pink toenail polish that looked more than a day old. I was this 18-year-old girl’s obedient slave, and my smartest remaining course was simply to please her in all things. Be her perfect fucktoy. Because that was what she had specifically enslaved me for, at least so far... fucking.
And you love it, spoke an evil whisper from some dark, shame-ridden corner of my mind. This girl will surely destroy you. Whether today or when Haim returns, you will be exposed... and you embrace this inevitable ending because now, right NOW... you love it. She and her friends are young and voracious, and they are devouring you, feasting on your flesh and on your soul... and you’re simply pleased to be so savory. You love it, slut. Love it...
I love HER, I defiantly whispered back, shivering with the delight of this amazing knowledge. I love her, and she might love me, too. It is perverse, and... and yes, my sin will find me out and I will be destroyed. But until then I am simply hers, and it is enough.
The dark little corner of my mind briefly studied this Moulin Rouge, come what may knockoff mentality that I was clinging to, and then deliberately drew my eyes across the room to where Brandy’s bag of tricks lay in a corner, the closed laptop peeking out. Audiovisual, came that evil whisper. A daily drugging, followed by audiovisual. For fucksake, this began with your fantasy stories of mind control rape. Can the arithmetic of this situation be any more plain?
The voice was, of course, absolutely correct. And there was more to it than that. Not only was Brandy obviously, openly using some homemade gestalt of tools to eradicate my free will, but also... also...
It was so strange, you see. Also, what she and her friends had done to me so far, what they were still doing to me... it matched what the poor protagonist had suffered in my own novice offerings to mcstories.com. Somehow, with breathtaking resourcefulness, little Brandy Miller was giving me exactly what I had asked for, all the personal fantasies that I’d so thoroughly plumbed, when I wrote that fiction. She was deliberately allowing... no, she was forcing me to “live the dream.”
I lay there and thought about it some more. Then I very gently began to move about the foot of the bed, turning until I could get my face closer to Brandy’s legs. Her right leg was buried beneath a blanket, but the left was helpfully bared to me. Bending, I very gently kissed her tender inner ankle, just above her bare, exquisitely sculpted foot.
She wore chipped pink toenail polish. She was only a girl-woman. She was my Mistress.
Only slightly harder, I kissed her inner calf. Neither of these kisses, I judged, were forceful enough to disturb her sleep.
And so my next kiss, delivered to her inner knee, gently woke her. It was nearly as soft as the first two, but I deliberately allowed this kiss to linger. First I licked her warm, smooth flesh, and then I softly pressed my lips to the spot where my tongue had wetted her. And I kissed that spot with all the timidly eager surrender that I could produce, offering Brandy my mouth and my heart for her morning pleasure.
Brandy opened her eyes and stretched, deliberately moving her legs much farther open, then settled back to silently regard me. When I hesitated, she nodded slightly. At once, I bent my head and continued to worship her with my lips and tongue.
I moved up to her inner thigh, and dared to hurry a bit, for I was becoming desperately eager to sink my tongue into my Mistress, to wiggle it inside her, face humbly buried in her crotch, my eyes gazing up the length of her body, finding her own. Sharing for another moment that sweetly ritual pose. Total surrender.
I felt that especially warm, smooth brush of her inner thighs against my cheeks as I pressed my face forward to give this special service to my Mistress. But before my lips could close hungrily over her pussy, Brandy pressed a fingertip against my forehead, freezing me in place.
“First breakfast,” she said in that soft voice that we use when we’ve only just awakened. “I want you to serve Marlena her first bite, then come around and serve me the same way. One bite, just as a symbol, right? Then while we eat, you’ll go back down between my legs and lick my cunt, Noa.”
She smiled, relishing those last four words. Then she lay back and closed her eyes, apparently intending to nap while I made breakfast. As gently as possible, I crept off the bed and hurried to my task.
As I passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen, I saw that Pagan had slept in a corner of the living room floor. He was naked, and was making use of a spare pillow from the hall closet, but otherwise enjoyed neither blanket nor pallet. It seemed our Mistresses preferred us to sleep fully exposed.
Pagan was now wearing a slightly worn, rugged-looking collar of studded leather. I’d apparently wakened him as I came down the stairs. He lay there on the floor, staring at me. I nodded and moved past him, toward the kitchen. When I heard him immediately rise to follow me, I didn’t turn around.
When we reached the kitchen, it became at once impossible to ignore him. There we stood, two collared fuck slaves, naked together with the tile floor feeling so cool and hard, so utterly impersonal, beneath our bare feet. Pagan looked directly at me, his expression sober. Rather than forcibly capturing my own gaze, his was the sort of eye contact that simply and gently invited my response.
I made myself look into his eyes. His warm, dark, shining eyes. My heart felt like it skipped a beat. This was not love. As I have said, we were denied love. This was desire, a searing flash of longing for this young man who had so thoroughly tamed me the night before.
“They sent you to make breakfast,” Pagan guessed, speaking very softly.
I nodded timidly.
“I’d like to know, please...” Pagan hesitated, studying me, then visibly swallowed and forced himself to go on. “What I did to you last night... all those things...” He hesitated, and to my amazement, he began to blush.
“I liked it,” I breathed, my own voice as quiet as his.
Relaxing slightly, he ducked a grateful nod and then broke into one of his devastatingly sunny smiles.
“I liked your mouth best,” he confessed. “I want to feel it again. Perhaps now? If you...?”
“I...” Unable to find my voice, I gestured helplessly about the kitchen. I had been given a task by my Mistress, and dared not delay.
“I can help you with breakfast,” Pagan quickly assured me. “I know our Mistresses reasonably well, to include knowing what they like for breakfast. I am a very fast, very good cook, Noa. If we’re quick with your mouth on my cock, and if I’m quick when I turn you around and fuck you, then there will be time. Please trust me.”
“But you’re not quick,” I heard myself pointing out in a voice gone unsteady with frustrated desire. This act of speaking seemed unrelated to any conscious thought, for in that moment I think there was no conscious thought. My mind had been rendered temporarily mute from hearing this young buck speaking so boldly of his desire to have me again, right then and there.
“I can be quick when I want to.” His eyes were very intent now. They seemed almost to glow with his urgency. I could see without looking down that his long, thick cock was fully erect. “When it’s time to stop fucking, I will take you very deeply, and I will look down at you there, naked and bent over, with my cock plunged into you, and I will come, right then, right there. Trust me, Noa.”
“Um!” I still could think of nothing to say, and my mouth had run out of independent ideas. When Pagan reached up to place his hands upon my shoulders, then gently pressed me downward until I was kneeling before him, I simply allowed it.
The floor was hard on my knees, but we weren’t long in that position. His cock was a piston between my lips, at once putting my mouth to hard use. Then, pulling out, Pagan searched for and found vegetable oil, which he smeared upon himself for lubricant. He helped me to my feet, gently ushered me into the living room, bent me over the back of my couch, and made good on his offer to quickly fuck me.
It took every ounce of my willpower to contain my desperate cries, so that our Mistresses would not be disturbed. The sheer effort of it, of this struggle for comparative silence, was such that I was left slick with sweat when Pagan had finished.
I lay there for a moment afterward, bent over the back of my living room couch, past even trembling. I was limp, my freshly fucked pussy throbbing from Pagan’s efficient thoroughness. Our come mingled inside me, and coated my thighs.
Pagan seemed ready to carry me back to the kitchen, if necessary, but I continued to exercise my will upon my body. Finding my legs, I rose and meekly followed him back into my kitchen. There, I obediently leaned in a spread-eagled position against the kitchen counter while he went at my naked body with first a wet dishcloth, then a dry towel. There would still be no mistaking that I had been taken very recently, and I was certain that Brandy would have much sport at my expense over it, but I also knew from several experiences during the party that my Mistress preferred these token efforts at hygiene between my surrenders.
Judging me clean enough, Pagan put me to work in my own kitchen, assisting him while he made breakfast for the Mistresses. As he had promised, he was... is indeed a very fast, very good cook.
I carried breakfast to our Mistresses on a large tray, feeling Pagan’s hot eyes on my naked bottom as I left the kitchen. It felt good. I had continued to dab at the come leaking out of my pussy while he cooked, but I knew that by the time I made it to the bedroom, my inner thighs would be slick with the stuff.
They were, and as I fed first Marlena, then Brandy, they enjoyed themselves immensely at Pagan’s and my expense. The fun only intensified after I finished feeding them their first bites, and then carefully crawled over to prostrate myself between Brandy’s invitingly opened legs. As I reverently pressed my lips and tongue against Brandy’s waiting sex, I was fully aware of Marlena crawling over to kneel beside me. Her first touch between my own legs was gentle, probing me. The second was playfully cruel.
Later, after Marlena and Pagan had left, Brandy and I shared a shower. I was required to thoroughly bathe her, and then to perform all the other details of drying, grooming and dressing her. As I finished buckling a belt at her waist, I was struck by our contrast in that moment. She was clean and dry and fully dressed, radiating all of youth’s boundless confidence, while I knelt naked and shivering before her, my wet hair plastered to my shoulders.
Before I was allowed to dry myself, Brandy ordered me to bend over the foot of the bed, open my legs to her, and look straight ahead. I sensed her moving in behind me, then felt her pushing something into my exposed pussy. The object was smooth and lubricated, with a rounded head like a small dildo. Her finger followed it into me, pressing it up against an especially sensitive part of my inner channel. Then the finger withdrew, while the object stayed behind. I could feel it lodged there, inside my pussy.
“Leave that there,” she told me. “Don’t fuck with it. You’ll be told when you’re allowed to remove it. Now get cleaned up and dressed for work, slave. Wear a skirt of your choice, and pink panties. Oliver likes pink panties.”
“Yes, Mistress!” I couldn’t help blushing as I turned to obey.
“Oh, and hey! When’s the next time that you can disappear for about a full day without arousing anyone’s suspicions, Noa?”
“Right after this meeting, Mistress,” I paused to reply. “We should be done by 2:30. Then I’m perfectly free until noon Sunday, Mistress, when I’m supposed to have a working lunch with a few of my research team.”
“Okay, good,” she said. “And your family? It won’t upset them if you disappear right after work, and stay gone until your Sunday lunch thing?”
“With your permission, Mistress, I’d already intended to call Haim today. They’ll be fine, Mistress.”
Brandy studied me for a moment, and very slowly her smile broadened.
“You’ve truly fallen in love with me. Haven’t you, slave? Look at me.” Brandy’s voice had become a whipcrack when I forgetfully allowed my gaze to sink to the carpet. Seeing that she once more held my undivided attention, she... smirked. “Now answer my question. You love me, don’t you, Noa?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“What do you love most about me?”
“Mistress...” I approached her and then gently sank to my knees, while faithfully holding her steady gaze. “You did it. You conquered me, almost exactly as I’d described in my stories. And you use me, sexually, also in the specific ways that I once detailed. I don’t understand how you can do this, but you do. You are physically... beautiful, Mistress. You’ve a body that... that cries out to be licked and... and sucked...” I took a deep breath. “And you’re so young and so vitally alive, as have been so many of the villains in my stories, Mistress.”
“Mmm.” She reached down to absently stroke my hair. “Then I’m pleased to be of service, Noa Fischer.”
“May I add to that, Mistress?” I quickly asked.
“By all means.”
“Mistress, it’s the way you enjoy it,” I said, then had to take a deep breath before I could say more. “The way you enjoy me, Mistress. You make me the center of your attention, sometimes to the point where you seem lost in me, even as I am usually lost in the sensations of whatever you’re putting me through. Mistress.”
“I thought so,” Brandy said, and a shadow seemed to leave her face. “So you like it that I like it, right?”
“Right, Mistress.” And, still blissfully surrendered to whatever doom awaited us for this thing we were doing together, I smiled.
While I readied for work, Brandy used my telephone to call Oliver. She made no attempt to hide her side of the conversation, so I quietly listened while she planned out my evening for me.
I found the conversation, or at least her part of it, to be strange. It sounded as though she wanted Oliver to take charge of me after my meeting. Brandy pled other plans, in conjunction with a desire to keep me under supervision for a bit. And from what I could gather, Oliver seemed very resistant to this idea, citing other plans of his own.
They negotiated, and in the end, Brandy got her way. She hung up the phone, gave a victorious little yip, then grinned wickedly at me for a split second. Then she turned and began to dig furiously inside her overstuffed bag.
“There you are,” she crooned, one hand still up to the elbow in bag.
The thing inside my pussy, nestled up against that most sensitive inner part of me, began to vibrate furiously. Gasping, I dropped to my knees, but already the vibrations had stopped.
“Your work group thingie,” Brandy said, and I saw that she held a little, single-button remote control device in her hand. As I am not entirely stupid, I quickly guessed what the device controlled. To banish all doubt, Brandy tapped the button twice and my heart promptly skipped two beats as irresistible feelings shot out from between my legs, causing my whole body to tremble. “Where will you be meeting?”
“We’re to meet at the Olive Garden, Mistress,” I breathed. To my abject amazement, I discovered that I was still able to blush. I studied the carpet.
“Look at me, Noa.”
I obeyed, of course. She was smiling gently, her eyes mischievous.
“Don’t be surprised if you see me there,” she said. “Just ignore me. But when I page, you will excuse yourself and go visit the ladies’ room. Got it?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
At length, I left my home and made my lunch date. Everyone on my team was there but one, a data crunching specialist named Walter. No one missed him; Walter is an arrogant, elitist ass whose breath stinks.
Mr Kiefer was particularly lavish with the expense account on that day. My team is hot, and quite frankly, so am I. It’s why they lured me here from Israel with a six-figure sign-on bonus. We don’t play, and lately we’d been giving the corporate heads some spot-on information about all the other companies out there who wanted to hold hands with us.
We ate first, almost ritualistically. No one tried to talk shop during this part of the gathering; it was something Mr Kiefer forbade. We could discuss anything else, but no business.
Our little section of the restaurant had been thoughtfully roped off from the rest, and we felt free to whisper and joke among ourselves while we ate. I knew that later, after the meeting, we’d all be invited to visit a local pool hall on Mr Kiefer’s nickel. Open bar and a free cab ride home, guaranteed. Mr Kiefer is an extremely good boss, and very thoughtful in his handling of us.
I entertained no hope of visiting the pool hall with my colleagues. About halfway through the meal, I’d spotted Brandy and Oliver at another table, on the other side of the rope. Brandy was chatting lightly with Oliver, who simply sat there and brooded, his gaze fixed at some indeterminate thing across the room.
Once, he glanced straight at me and frowned angrily, while Brandy continued to speak animatedly to him.
We finished eating and were allowed to disperse for a short while, mostly so that the smokers among us could sneak outside before we got down to business. Having nowhere to go, I sat at my table and sipped watered-down tea.
When the thing inside me abruptly began to vibrate, I set down my tea. The vibrations continued, right there at that spongy spot which hides within a woman’s flesh. Unless you are female, this is a feeling that you cannot really comprehend. I sat there and simply trembled for a moment, unable to do anything at all. I was paralyzed by this agonizingly sweet feeling.
Then the vibrations ceased. At once, I rose and discreetly disappeared toward the ladies’ room. Brandy was already there, gazing intently into a wall mirror while she touched up her lip gloss. Blessedly, no one else was there.
“Lock the door behind you,” she said, not looking away from her own reflection. I instantly obeyed, then lifted my skirt and humbly sank to my bare knees to await her will. She smiled at me for a moment, then strolled over to me and deliberately placed the warm crotch of her designer jeans against my nose and mouth. Shivering over the deliciously vulgar reverence of the moment, I very tenderly, very lovingly kissed her.
Perhaps as a reward, the thing inside me buzzed back into breathtaking life. I whimpered and struggled not to writhe in place, but it was impossible! Oh, the sensation of that sweetly hideous thing inside my pussy! How it touched me from within the very heart of my sex, sending its little lightning bolts through me until I couldn’t help openly shuddering! I uttered a low, desperately intense moan through lips gone slack with raw need.
“You don’t hide it well, do you, slut?” Brandy laughed and shook her head in apparent wonder. She relaxed her grip on the control device, and the buzzing within me mercifully ceased. “If I decide to touch you during your meeting, you’re just going to come apart right there, in front of all your peers, aren’t you?”
“I think so, Mistress,” I answered honestly, once I was able to.
“Why aren’t you in tears? Why aren’t you terrified by the idea, Noa?”
In response, I once more tenderly kissed the little patch of blue denim that covered her pussy.
“No. That’s no answer. Tell me in words, Noa Fischer. Why aren’t you afraid that I’ll destroy you right now?” To my surprise, she sounded slightly upset.
“Mistress...” Timidly I raised my eyes, finding and lovingly returning her gaze. “You promised me you wouldn’t, although I free you from that promise. I’m yours to destroy, when and how you please. I... I think that’s all I want anymore. Just to please you, Mistress.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she commented matter-of-factly, and then she named my child, my son. “What about your desire to protect him? And what about your husband? Haim? You telling me you don’t care about them anymore?”
The words were a shattering blow. Gasping, I jerked my head away, directing my gaze at the tile wall. Already, my vision was blurring as the tears began to well up.
“Look at me, slave,” Brandy hissed between clenched teeth, and at once I obeyed. Her green eyes shone with some great, intense passion. Then she calmed. “You don’t have to cry. Obviously, you do still love your family. With all your heart, yes? You’d kill or die for either of them, wouldn’t you?”
Miserably, I nodded. I would, for either of them. I’d kill Brandy herself to protect my child. But in my own passion, I had simply forgotten this fact. This surprised me, for during lunch, I’d already called and spoken with my Haim. Please understand if I say nothing more about that conversation, beyond that it was good, that we missed one another terribly, and that our child had apparently stumbled while playing outside and scraped a knee. We’d spoken of this, and of other such personal, domestic things.
And at some point between then and now, I had put Haim and our child back into a box within my mind, and returned my concentration to the matter of Brandy’s total control over me. And to the searing desires that her control had awakened within my heart and flesh.
“It’s going to be okay, Noa,” Brandy said at last. “I meant that promise, and I’ll keep it. I’m never going to destroy you. I’ll only change you, until you please me just as perfectly as you hope to. Now get up, go dry your eyes at the sink, and just listen. We don’t have much time.”
As if to demonstrate her point, someone tried the bathroom door.
“You’ll hang around after your meeting. Give some of your coworkers time to clear out. Hopefully all of them, if they don’t take too long. Then you’ll go out to the parking lot and find us; we’re parked right beside you, and we’ll be in Oliver’s car, waiting. You’ll get into the back of Oliver’s car, put on the blindfold that you find there, and wait quietly for your next instructions. With me so far?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Now check this, Noa Fischer... I’m giving you a very serious order, and I expect you to obey me with all your heart. Ready?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I’m giving you to Oliver to play with for the indefinite future, and while you’re his, you will obey him, exactly as you would obey me. In all things, he is to be your absolute Master. Do you understand me, slave?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Someone tried the door again, then gently tapped on it.
“Good. I gotta go. The bathroom door was locked because you were crying about... whatever. It’s believable; your eyes are still red. Peace!” Brandy gave my ass a playful—but forceful—slap, then turned and unlocked the bathroom door.
“All yours, sugar,” she told another lady as she left the room. I looked at myself in the mirror. Yes, an easily believable story, that I’d been crying. I so nearly had! To my ever self-critical eye, I now looked a slight mess.
The other woman was very understanding and, after a single consoling comment, blessedly respected my need for privacy while I redid my make-up.
The rest of the meeting isn’t worth more than a paragraph. We took turns displaying the results of our recent work, and the status of our ongoing projects, and Mr Kiefer was well pleased with us. And since Brandy had given me reason to hope that I might keep this job after all, the boss’s praise rang sweetly in my ears.
We finished, and they gradually left me there, alone at the table. The busboys had already made a clean sweep of the table between lunch and the meeting, clearing them so that we might have ample space for our notes. But there remained half-drained glasses to collect, and I could feel the presence of the restaurant staff hovering nearby, waiting for me to leave so that they could recycle their tables.
I added my share to the already impressive tip pile, then rose and left. As promised, I found Brandy and Oliver waiting inside a huge, gas-guzzling land yacht that had begun its career in the 1970s. I climbed into the back seat, grateful for the car’s sweet air conditioning; the afternoon had become decidedly muggy. After closing the door, I picked up the blindfold from where it lay beside me on the seat, and carefully put it on.
While quietly going about this business, I considered the two other items that I’d found awaiting me in that back seat... an increasingly familiar dildo of heroic proportions, and a toothpaste-sized tube of KY Jelly.
Oliver gave the car gas, and we were in motion.
“Take off your panties,” I heard Brandy say, and could tell that she’d turned in her seat to look at me. “Dig that bullet out of yourself and just... drop it. Then find the dildo and the lube, on the seat beside you, and start using them on yourself. You know, Oliver, no matter how much we stretch this slut’s little frontal hole, it’s still so narrow! Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It’s good, of course,” Oliver said, sounding as though most of his attention was on his driving. “You should take time to savor how her pussy’s gripping that dildo this one last time. She won’t be so narrow anymore. Not when I’m done with her.”
“Mmm. Fair enough,” Brandy said, and I could tell that she remained turned around to observe me while I moved to obey her orders. I had to send a finger fishing up inside me to retrieve the “bullet,” and that made Brandy giggle. The thing was indeed bullet-shaped, and wet with my building juices. It buzzed in my hand, and I gasped and dropped it.
I lubed up the dildo, slowly but firmly thrust it into my pussy, and went to work for my Mystress.
We rode for what seemed an eternally long time. Through most of it, the traffic around us sounded heavy. Often a horn honked, and whenever this happened, Brandy would snicker and comment about how someone was enjoying the show. Beyond that, she contented herself with occasional orders that I change my position, or that I stroke harder or faster.
By the time we arrived at our apparent destination, my breath was coming in tearing gasps. I was drenched in sweat, my thighs were thick with lubricants both applied and natural, and I knew that my face and vagina both had to be glowing bright red. I shuddered helplessly, my pussy pushed well beyond multiple orgasm and still under steady assault as I continued to obediently pound myself.
We stopped, and I heard and felt Brandy opening her car door, then stepping out. I heard the savage barking of large dogs, and then their whining near-silence after Oliver snapped out a harsh command through his opened window. A gate jingled and dragged across concrete or asphalt as it was swung open, then we pulled forward. I expected us to stop and wait for Brandy; her car door was still opened. But Oliver continued ahead, then turned and parked. The engine died.
“Well,” he said, as though to himself. “Here we are. Stop fucking yourself, Noa. Just hold it all the way inside you for now.”
Desperately relieved, I obeyed. My arm had become a study in raw, trembling ache by that point, and my pussy had become quite tender. I heard Oliver open his door and leave the car.
The back door was opened, a hand took me by the hair at the nape of my neck, and I was slowly but firmly urged out of the car. This awkward maneuver was rendered far more difficult by my need to keep myself deeply impaled. At length, I stood unsteadily in my two-inch heels upon a hard surface. The air smelled of industry and the outdoors, but was comparatively cool. I imagined us standing inside some great, open garage.
A large dog whined and sniffed at my crotch. Then more cold noses studied my flesh while I stood there and trembled. I heard the approaching grind of Brandy’s sneakers.
“Are you ready for Oliver, Noa?” she asked once she was standing before me.
“Yes, Mistress,” I breathed. The fear in my voice was obvious.
Oliver released my hair. A moment later, I felt the cool touch of metal against one of my wrists. They were cuffed together in front of me, with my palms facing away from each other. I was still able to hold the great dildo deep inside me, but only with effort.
“Open your legs, slut,” Oliver said, and I immediately moved my feet farther apart.
There was a rattle of chain, and then lightly padded manacles were applied to my ankles. I was allowed to move one foot experimentally, and found that they were secured together by a length of chain which had been run through a perhaps three-foot length of light metal pipe. I could walk, but only very awkwardly, and my legs would be staying open for my owners’ pleasure.
“Patrol,” Oliver said, and I could hear the clicking of toenails as the dogs retreated. Then I was taken once more by the nape of my neck and urged forward. We turned once or twice, and paused once for the opening of a heavy metal door. Then there was the heavy clack of an old-model light switch, and I imagined us bathed under the glow of a bare bulb in some forgotten industrial storeroom.
Then I heard a strange thing, the distinct crack of an electrical discharge. Brandy moaned behind me, and I heard a body collapse.
“Sorry about that, dear,” Oliver breathed, releasing his grip on my hair. “I’ve tried so many times to explain, but you just wouldn’t listen, would you?”
I stood there, blinded and bound and holding a huge dildo inside myself, and I listened while Oliver dragged a body—Brandy, of course—back in the direction from which we’d come. He paused to close the metal door, leaving me alone in a silence broken only by the sigh of an air conditioning vent.
I began to weep openly, and when I felt the warm wash of my own urine on my hands and thighs, my terrified sobs at once redoubled.
Time passed. I cannot begin to guess its measure.
The metal door opened again behind me, and my sobs ended with a terrified yip.
The handcuffs were grasped where they joined and my hands were lifted away from the dildo, which immediately eased itself out of me and fell into the puddle of urine between my feet.
“Oh, please...” I whimpered.
“You’ll be punished for speaking without permission,” Oliver snarled. “Was Brandy’s training so lax? Shut your fucking mouth, slave.”
I choked back any further words and meekly allowed myself to be led forward. Then I was urged downward, until finally I knelt in Brandy’s favorite pose for me, down on my elbows and wide-spread knees. The floor beneath me was covered in a thin layer of padding. Instinctively recognizing something that I understood, I lifted my head so that my sightless eyes were directed straight forward.
“This will be your punishment for speaking out of turn,” Oliver said. “You may scream freely, but do not move. The number of lashes will be ten, and you will count them aloud for me as they fall. Every time you move, Noa, that number will increase. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master,” I whined miserably.
My skirt was lifted and thrown across my back. Then there was a sharp crack, and a line of searing pain instantly crossed the back of my left thigh.
“ONE!!!!!” I screamed, and invested my entire force of will into simply not moving. My every muscle trembled.
More cracks, more bright lines of agony, some of them across my thighs, others across my naked buttocks. I sobbed piteously and wailed numbers for my cruel new Master’s pleasure.
After five lashes, he stopped. I heard him moving behind me, and then the dildo was abruptly thrust into my pussy. I gave a deep, hoarse moan, the sound of a creature offering its last helpless protest against an unendurable violation. And still, I am proud now to say, I did not move.
“Very good, slave. Consider this a halftime intermission. Do you prefer it to the lashing? Shall I extend your break?” He withdrew the dildo, then fiercely drove it back into me so that I cried out yet again.
“Yes, Master!” I screamed. “Anything, Master! Anything you want, Master!”
“Shut up,” he sneered. “I didn’t ask for a fucking essay. Okay, let’s get back to work.”
He yanked out the dildo, then gave me five more lashes. I continued to obediently scream numbers, certain that these blazing lines of pain were deep enough to draw blood. I could see it in my mind’s eye, a sheet of red oozing from my various deep welts, coating my sweaty ass and the backs of my legs. I screamed long after he was finished, and I openly wept, and I held my shuddering body as rigidly still as I could.
He ordered me to shut up before I could go hoarse, and somehow, I obeyed. We were perhaps a little late; I remained slightly hoarse for several days after. But then, there were more screams during that period, so who can say?
The blindfold was removed, and I saw that I was kneeling on a large athletic mat, facing the corner of a cinderblock room. Brandy’s laptop was positioned in front of me, its screen blank. Oliver carefully placed the ubiquitous buds into my ears, then fed me two pills and three gulps of water, all of which I accepted without hesitation. One of the pills, a little capsule, felt entirely too familiar against my tongue. The other, a smooth hard tablet, was completely unrecognizable. I swallowed them down with the water.
“Don’t fucking move. Don’t fucking speak. Just kneel there and wait.”
While I stared at the blank computer screen, Oliver moved about behind me, doing things. At one point I heard water running inside an adjoining room. A bit later, a warm, wet cloth was applied gently to my sex, then to my legs, and finally to my ass. He then dried me with a surprisingly warm towel, and then I felt a salve being applied to some of my welts.
I also felt a recognizable drug effect occurring within my body. I was becoming increasingly distant. Detached. And yet, however contradictory this may sound, I was also becoming exquisitely awake and aware.
Oliver did things to the computer, and it played my audiovisual for me. I remember almost nothing of that experience. At some early point in the gestalt, the combined drugs sank their teeth into my mind.
I realized after a period of fugue that the computer was closed and put away. Although I wasn’t trying to move my legs, the spreader bar between them was suddenly a most tangible thing, so forcefully and finally restraining me against covering myself from… from anyone at all. The handcuffs felt almost like an afterthought, perhaps in case my attacker were an invalid or perhaps a child. Anyone who wanted me, would have me.
Perhaps a dog, I thought, and whined as the shattering reality of that possibility assaulted my mind. Or two, or three, or…
Another fugue state occurred, during which I remember staggering across what proved to be a small, clean cell toward a doorway, seeing a utilitarian bathroom with a stainless steel toilet, shower and sink. Oliver was pinching one of my nipples, leading me around by it.
“The fucking bathroom,” he snarled. “Next time you have to go, you go straight there. You take care of your business, and you go straight back to wherever I left you. You understand me, yes? Slut?”
“Yes... yes... Master, this slave...”
“Shut the fuck up.” I saw objects whirling past my narrow point of focus as he forcefully turned me back toward the mat that I’d been occupying. There were tables with tools on them, and a strangely formed chair of varnished wood, with thick leather straps installed for the prospective sitter’s wrists and ankles.
I was in a torture chamber. He was going to torture me.
Where was Brandy? What had he done to her? Tasered her, almost certainly, and dragged her limp body away. But to what fate? Surely nothing short of terrible… none of this felt remotely like their usual games. These were kids, whatever their legal ages. Their games, whether crude or elegant, were inevitably direct, their hungers predictable.
It seemed quite safe to assume that Brandy was dead. That Oliver had murdered her, or would at his leisure.
Is he going to kill me?
I studied this possibility as I was forced back to my knees and elbows, and a wave of drugged sorrow washed through me. Would I never see my family again?
Oliver re-inserted the dildo into my pussy with what felt like casual indifference. At some point in the increasing drug state, I had entirely missed his pulling a chair over so that he might sit beside my upthrust bottom. He sat there now, idly dildo-fucking me while his thoughts went wherever he was sending them.
I sensed that he was watching the point of entry, the steady pistoning of this object into the well of my flesh. And I am deliciously ashamed to confess that, for all my sorrow and terror, a core of exquisite arousal was once more awakened within me.
Helplessly, still weeping in fact, I began to sway in place, rocking backward to meet his gentle thrusts.
With no warning, he withdrew the dildo completely, then plunged it into my ass. Once more, I let out an involuntary scream. And then, once I’d adjusted to this new assault, I began yet again to rock in surrendered response to his treatment of me.
“Brandy told me you loved this, Noa. She told all of us, while we discussed your future. ‘Be sure to give her ass lots of attention,’ she said. ‘My little Noa Fischer loves it in her ass.’ Is that true, Noa? Are you loving this?”
“...yes, Master...” I weakly responded.
“How about this?” He withdrew the dildo. A smell, somewhat like menthol cigarettes, touched my nose as he did something behind me. Then the dildo was slowly, almost gently thrust back into my ass. It had been freshly coated with some thick new lubricant.
Before he’d fully penetrated me, my ass began to tingle, and then to burn. It wasn’t quite agony... not exactly... but it was a kind of deep, oddly cool burn that completely held the attention, especially given its location and my drug-distorted tactile sense. “Do you like that, Noa?”
“Y... yes, Master!” My voice sounded thin, frantic. I found myself squirming in completely involuntary response as Oliver once more began to ass-fuck me in earnest.
Until he stopped, I ceased all rational thought. There was only that cold, burning, immense thing, and it was ass-fucking me, and oh, how terribly (and how very, very sweetly) it burned…
“You will stay right where you are, unless you need a bathroom break.” The dildo made a slurping sound as he withdrew it from my ass, leaving in its wake a spike of intense sensation. Along with the natural pain from such a thorough penetration , there remained also the intimate touch of that lubricant.
Oliver’s face loomed in my peripheral vision. His breath was warm and smelled faintly of spearmint.
“Should you tire, you may lower your body onto the mat and try to sleep. I’ll be periodically watching you on camera, or in person. Tomorrow, I’m going to hurt you very, very badly, Noa. Good night.”
Then he turned and left my field of vision. With a harsh clack, the overhead lights were turned off, although the lighting from the restroom left me far from blind. I heard the clanging of the metal door, then a sound that had to be a heavy bolt being drawn.
Then I was alone, and the drugs continued to close about my will, like the great killing coils of a constrictor snake. For a long time, I simply knelt there and suffered. At some point, I know that I reeled drunkenly into the bathroom and tried to clean some of the burning substance off of my bottom. I recognized it as Vick’s VapoRub.
Then I was back on my mat, positioned as my new Master had ordered. I didn’t remember how I’d gotten there. A moment before had been that recognition of the Vick’s.
Time passed with me in that position, trembling and sweating while visions filled my mind.
I had rocked forward and now lay uncomfortably atop my folded arms. The cuffs dug into my flesh. Oliver was resting atop me, enclosing us both in enormous bat’s wings. I knew that he was imaginary. I could probably make him go away, but then I would likely be alone again.
His fingertips were talons, sunk deep into my arms. His lips brushed my throat, and then I felt the deep sting of his needle-sharp tongue. My blood began to flow down his throat.
His demonic cock was driving into me from behind, steadily spewing forth a substance that tingled as it coated me from within. Blood was gushing out of me through my torn throat, was being greedily sucked away, while something else... the Master’s essence, perhaps... was being pumped into me as some perverse replacement fluid.
He was taking me, straight through the jugular and straight up into my ass. He was burrowing into me and utterly devouring me.
And, stunning myself in the process of doing so, I welcomed his cruel embrace. Beyond it lay only eternal darkness. He had become my only anchor against absolute oblivion.
And then a heavy bolt was thrown and I heard the steel door being swung open behind me. The lights clacked on… and I dropped back into a fugue state.
I remember the gist of that one. It was so horrible, I doubt I’ll ever forget. My demon lover, Master of my naked ass and my life’s blood, had been abruptly dispelled. In his absence, there was only the yawning void, the neverending dark. I saw the brightly illuminated corner of two cinderblock walls, right in front of my nose… but it seemed no more than illusion. Indeed, through the course of that horrible fugue state, the whole of the material universe struck me as just that… illusion, nothing more.
I was falling into oblivion. My Oliver was gone.
I would have to enter Hell alone.
All alone.
A cruel hand gripped my hair. Instantly recognizing it, I gave forth a great, shuddering sigh. Then I wept in sweetest relief. It was my terrible Master. He was real, this time. He had come for me.
He physically turned my head, so that I looked up into his hazel eyes. I saw that he was wearing a black leather mask, fashioned according to a classic BDSM design. He was otherwise naked, and I saw that his flesh was pale, his nipples pierced. His cock seemed to be of average size, although I couldn’t be sure; it was perfectly flaccid. In his free hand, Oliver gripped a flogger with little chunks of metal at the end of each strand.
I assumed that he meant to flay me alive.
“You may move freely,” he breathed, and released my hair. “Do as thou wilt.”
Instantly, albeit very clumsily, I turned in place until I could reach one of his inner thighs with my lips. Moaning gratefully, I tried to kiss him. My plan was simple... I would kiss my way up to his cock, make it hard for him, and then... well.... I supposed I’d wing it from there.
He recoiled from me, actually falling backward onto his bottom. Almost crablike, he scuttled backward from me. I just knelt there, staring at him in shocked confusion.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Oliver demanded. His voice, distorted by the drugs, sounded unbearably harsh.
“Master... I....” And then I ran out of words. Hadn’t my intentions been plain?
“Just stop,” he said. “Get back onto your mat. In that position you like so much. Just stay there.”
While I obeyed, he rose and padded out of the room, leaving his cruel flogger on the floor where he’d dropped it.
When he returned, I heard keys jingling. Oliver knelt behind me and removed the spreader bar. Then he moved around by my side, and removed the handcuffs.
“Just go to sleep, Noa. Dream whatever you want. I’ll not be hurting you anymore. Brandy’s alive and well. This was all...” He sighed, very deeply. When he spoke again, his voice had become very small. “It was a mistake, Noa. I’m sorry. Now lie down and sleep.”
“Mast—”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” he screamed, leaning in close to my face. Trembling, I dared a tiny nod.
He sighed then, a disgusted sound. And then he rose and left the room, not bothering to close the steel door behind him.
Obediently, although filled with wonder, I lay down and awaited sleep.
When they came, my dreams were a confusion of sweet, sweet images.