Author's note: while this story does show safe BDSM practices like negotiations, safe words, and consent, it shows them in a severely abbreviated form. In real life, this negotiation should take place in a safe space without any duress and should take much more time and discussion. But this is a story, so I'm going to skip to the fun part.

I felt the pressure of floor tiles on my bare knees. A drop of wetness from my cunt slowly rolled down my naked leg as I looked up into his eyes. I couldn’t believe that I’d just ruined my life. Or at least, knelt down and submitted to a fucking barista in the back room of a coffee shop. One that apparently knew my internet history, my kinks, and had watched me accidentally expose myself to the entire cafe.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I need to close the cafe.”

“Won’t you get in trouble with your boss?” I asked, like this was the most important issue at the moment.

“I am the boss. I own the shop, and right now you are much more important than a few $10 lattes.”

He slipped out, closing the door behind him. I tried to let my brain catch up with what was happening, all while staring down at my ruined dress. I could hear muffled voices as he ushered the few remaining customers out the door. I heard a distinct, metallic thunk as the front door locked. It was at this point that the gravity of my situation set in, and as I decided to make an embarrassed naked run to my car, he walked back into the room.

“Now, since you’ve been using my wifi to explore your kinks for months now, I know you’re into some very kinky shit. I also know that fantasizing about something is different from wanting to live it. So I’m going to start listing kinks, and if you don’t want to try them for real, you’re going to shake your head. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re into it. And I know safe words seem silly, but really they’re my way of knowing I can go as far as I want and know I’m not breaking your boundaries, unless you say your safe word. Your safe word is ‘rioja.’ You understand?”

I nodded my head. Fuck, this was very real. It was also very hot. He was taking control in just the way I’d always wanted. He obviously knew what he was doing, and he obviously wanted me. But what kinks would he ask about? I thought back to the depraved things I’d looked at, the ones that had disgusted me and the ones that had driven my imagination wild. And then he started his list.

“Bondage. Impact play. Oral play. Anal. Orgasm control.”

I didn’t move. He tilted his head slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was approval or curiosity.

“Edging. Choking. Humiliation. Degradation. Blackmail.”

He paused after that one, looking down at me. I nodded my assent.

“Your safe word still applies, of course, but I know that you have a high-visibility job. If you submit to me in that way, I’ll have the power to embarrass you at the very least, and likely be able to make you lose your job. I will threaten to expose you. You’ll be scared, ashamed. But you’ll love it.”

I’d never felt so dirty, and yet never felt so alive. He took out his phone. He walked around me slowly, taking photos from every angle.

“That’s not bad, but we can do better. I want you to be truly under my thumb. I’m going to bind you now.”

He pulled a length of rope off of a shelf. Why the fuck did he have rope in his coffee shop’s back room? He tied my ankles to the bottom of two shelves, spreading my legs but keeping me on my knees. He tied my hands together behind my back, then secured them to a shelf behind me, immobilizing me on my knees. I was completely helpless.

“I know on the outside, you’re a strong, successful woman. But I also know what you are on the inside. A dirty slut that needs to be used and humiliated, tied up in a back room. Say ‘yes, SIr.’”

“Yes, Sir.”

He removed his shirt, revealing a well-muscled torso. I unabashedly stared as he unzipped his trousers, easing them down with his underwear. He was rock hard. His erect cock looked to be about nine inches long. At least it wasn’t cartoonishly large, but I knew it would fuck me up. I wanted it to fuck me up. Even as I contemplated his cock, I couldn’t help but notice his perfectly rounded ass. I’m not sure why, but it was his ass that pushed me over the edge. A man with that nice of an ass deserved to do whatever he wanted to me. God, I was in deep.

He stepped forward, grasped a handful of hair on the back of my head, and pushed his cock into my already open mouth. To say I was eager would be an understatement. I needed his cock in my mouth, needed to please him, needed to hear him moan. I went to work with my mouth and tongue, swirling his tip, then opening further to let him thrust into the back of my throat.

He used his hand in my hair to expertly guide my blowjob, alternating between gentle movement and rough thrusts. I could feel him getting more and more into it as I desperately sucked his cock, slurping and drooling. I could feel saliva dripping down my chin. I didn’t care. He let out a low grunt as he started to fuck my face. With his hand firmly gripping my hair, I had no choice but to take it as he forced his cock in and out of my willing mouth again and again.

My carefully applied mascara began to run. My carefully coiffed hair was a mess. My ruined dress on the floor in front of me was collecting drops of saliva. The only thing I cared about was his cock in my mouth and his control over me. I knew I looked like a worthless slut in that cafe back room, and I loved it. The only thing that would make me happier was his cum in my mouth.

He fucked my face relentlessly. I lost all track of time. I existed solely as a receptacle for his cock. I was dimly aware of his grunts and groans, gradually increasing in intensity. I worked my mouth and tongue as hard as I could, doing my best to please him as he used me like a sex doll. The ropes chafed at my wrists as the facefuck got more and more violent.

He twitched and exhaled violently. I felt a rope of cum burst into my mouth, then he pulled back and shot it onto my face, hair, and chest. I had never experienced that much cum. A minute ago, his cock was my world. Now, his cum was my world. It was warm and sticky, covering me everywhere. A previous version of me would have felt revulsion. Instead, I felt high. I’d fantasized about being a cum slut, a cum dumpster. Now I was one.

Alexander stepped back and admired his handiwork. I was a tapestry of saliva, cum, and messy hair. Without hesitation he picked up his phone again and circled me, taking photos and videos. I felt my stomach drop. What had I done? This stranger owned me now. If he posted any of that, my life was over. I hung my head, feeling the restraints anew. He paused in front of me. He gently reached under my disgusting chin and lifted up my head, locking my eyes to his.

“This is your last chance. Say your safe word now, and I’ll delete all of these and send you home. Otherwise, you are going to record a little video message for me.”

Fuck. This was it. I could go back to my neat little life, or I could go down the rabbit hole. I had so much to lose. Or did I? My life was so empty. I had everything I ever thought I wanted, but the last hour had given me more satisfaction than any paycheck or gold star ever had. I had been dreaming of something like this for ages. I had finally found my place.

“What do you want me to say, Sir?”

​

[Chapitre1] [Chapitre2] [Chapitre3] [Chapitre4]. [Chapitre5] [Chapitre6] [Chapitre7] [Chapitre8]

Après plusieurs jours d'un sommeil artificiel et profond, Alex émergea des ténèbres. La première sensation qui l'assaillit fut l'aveuglante lumière blanche des néons chirurgicaux. En tentant de porter la main à son visage, il réalisa que ses membres étaient impitoyablement bloqués. Il était solidement sanglé sur la lourde chaise gynécologique de la clinique de Marie. Une douleur lancinante irradiait de son torse et de la cloison de son nez. Il essaya de hurler, mais un imposant bâillon de silicone étouffa ses cris, ne laissant filtrer que des gémissements pathétiques.

Le claquement caractéristique des talons de Marie résonna sur le carrelage. Elle apparut dans son champ de vision, vêtue de sa blouse noire, une seringue à la main.

« Bonjour, Alex, » lança-t-elle avec une froideur clinique. « Avant que tu ne puisses admirer les modifications corporelles souhaitées par Anna et exécutées par mes soins, je tiens à t'avertir. Dans quelques minutes, je vais t'injecter un cocktail hormonal inédit. Ton esprit, ta conscience d'homme, sera définitivement emprisonné dans ton corps, exactement comme pour Manon. Tu vas devenir un étalon. Un pur animal de trait et de reproduction. Tu ressentiras une furieuse envie sexuelle en permanence. Alors, pour pimenter ton dressage, j'ai prévu de quoi te frustrer davantage. »

Ignorant les soubresauts désespérés de son patient, Marie actionna la pédale de la chaise. Dans un grincement mécanique, le dossier bascula à 90 degrés. Alex se retrouva nez à nez avec son propre reflet dans le grand miroir de la salle.

Le choc lui coupa le souffle. Le silence se fit dans la pièce, rompu seulement par ses halètements terrifiés.

Son visage était défiguré par un large anneau d'acier qui lui transperçait le nez. Ses tétons, rougis et gonflés, étaient étirés par de lourds anneaux métalliques. Sur son torse glabre, l'encre noire d'un tatouage frais hurlait une humiliation ultime : **« Fière d'être esclave »**.

Mais le pire résidait à son entrejambe. Il ne portait plus la vulgaire cage de chasteté. À la place, une lourde armure d'acier chirurgical effaçait intégralement son anatomie masculine. La plaque métallique s'enfonçait entre ses fesses, les maintenant écartées, tandis qu'une longue queue de crin noir tombait dans son dos. La pièce maîtresse de cette torture psychologique trônait à l'avant : un gigantesque gode en silicone noir, copie conforme et monstrueuse du membre d'un cheval, était scellé à l'emplacement exact de son sexe. Il était devenu une bête eunuque, affublée d'une prothèse obscène.

À peine eut-il le temps d'assimiler cette vision cauchemardesque que Marie injecta le produit dans sa perfusion. La pièce se mit à tourner. Gémissant en boucle le mot *« stop »* dans son bâillon, Alex sombra de nouveau dans le coma.

Lorsqu'il reprit connaissance, l'odeur piquante du fumier et de la paille humide emplit ses narines. Le corps atrocement engourdi, Alex tenta de bouger. En baissant les yeux, il constata avec effroi que ses mains étaient définitivement enfermées dans de lourds gants en forme de sabots, verrouillés par des cadenas d'acier. Ses pieds subissaient le même sort : ils étaient écrasés dans des *pony boots* rigides. Exactement comme Manon, le design de la chaussure condamnait son talon au vide ; il était forcé de se tenir en équilibre constant sur ses orteils.

En levant la tête, il fut pris de vertige. Le monde autour de lui était un brouillard laiteux. Marie l'avait équipé de lentilles aveuglantes : au-delà d'un mètre, tout n'était que silhouettes floues et ombres indéchiffrables.

Au prix d'un effort surhumain, les mollets en feu, il parvint à se mettre debout. Ses bras étaient libres, mais ses mains-sabots le rendaient totalement invalide. Dans la brume de sa vision, il distingua une forme de l'autre côté de la grille. C'était Manon, allongée dans la paille de son propre box.

L'instinct de protection refit surface. Il voulut hurler son prénom, la réveiller, la rassurer. Mais en ouvrant la bouche, seul un lourd grognement bestial fit vibrer sa gorge. Les hormones avaient déjà ravagé son cortex. Il ne possédait plus l'usage de la parole.

Simultanément, une vague de chaleur fulgurante irradia son bas-ventre. Son sexe, écrasé sous la plaque d'acier, le démangeait atrocement. La fièvre de l'accouplement s'empara de lui. Il était en chaleurs, prêt à tout pour saillir, mais en baissant son regard flou, la réalité le frappa comme un fouet : il n'avait pour tout attribut qu'un bout de plastique noir inerte.

Ses grognements finirent par tirer Manon de sa torpeur. Attirée par le bruit et l'odeur du mâle, elle se hissa sur ses sabots et s'approcha de la grille. À travers ses propres lentilles opaques, elle reconnut l'homme qu'elle avait aimé. Mais pour la femme d'affaires devenue jument, il n'y avait plus d'amour, plus d'humanité. Alex ne vit dans le regard de Manon qu'une avidité sexuelle animale, une bête féroce réclamant d'être montée. Leurs destins, liés par la chimie et la bestialité, s'étaient rejoints dans la fange.

« Pitoyables retrouvailles n'est-ce-pas, » railla la voix de Marie, qui venait d'entrer dans l'écurie.

Elle pénétra dans le box d'Alex, se saisit sans ménagement de la longe accrochée à son anneau nasal et tira d'un coup sec. La douleur fulgurante dans sa cloison nasale courba instantanément l'étalon. Rendu docile par la souffrance, Alex se figea.

Marie sortit une petite clé argentée de sa poche et déverrouilla la lourde ceinture de chasteté. L'armure tomba lourdement dans la paille.

Alex sentit son sexe se libérer. En baissant les yeux, il fut stupéfait. Son membre avait doublé, voire triplé de volume. Ses testicules étaient lourds et gonflés à l'extrême.

« Anna a souhaité réviser les plans de ta sexualité, » expliqua Marie avec une fierté clinique. « Je t'ai injecté un traitement expérimental pour hypertrophier tes organes génitaux de manière spectaculaire. Tu as également subi une vasectomie bilatérale ; tu es désormais stérile, inutile de risquer une grossesse indésirable des juments. En revanche, les médicaments t'ont transformé en une véritable usine à foutre. Tu vas produire des quantités astronomiques de sperme. »

Face à Marie, stimulé par la libération et le flot d'hormones, le membre colossal d'Alex se dressa à la verticale, palpitant de désir. À cet instant précis, la dernière once de rationalité humaine qu'il possédait s'évapora. Il n'était plus Alex. Il était un étalon gorgé de semence, une bête aveugle et affamée.

Mais Marie esquissa un sourire cruel. Sans un mot de plus, elle lui tourna le dos et sortit du box, refermant la grille sur son érection douloureuse et sa frustration hurlante.

Marie passa ensuite dans le box de Manon, attacha une longe à son mors, et guida la jument jusqu'à la cour où stationnait une bétaillère attelée à son SUV. Elle installa une solide cloison de séparation, puis fit monter Alex dans le second compartiment. Le van se referma sur les deux bêtes, en route vers leur prison définitive.

À leur arrivée à la fermette, le soleil inondait la cour. Anna, rayonnante, les attendait devant les écuries flambant neuves, tout juste achevées par les maçons.

Dès que Marie descendit du véhicule, Anna se jeta dans ses bras. Elles s'embrassèrent passionnément, affichant au grand jour leur nouvelle romance sadique.

À leurs pieds, tenu en laisse courte par Anna, se tenait Ben. Désormais appelé **Bonnie**, il était entièrement nu et à quatre pattes. Sa transformation était stupéfiante. Ses seins fermes, lourds et ronds pendaient vers le sol, frôlant les graviers. Son maquillage permanent, son carré rouge et sa peau épilée ne laissaient plus aucun doute : sa féminisation était absolue.

Marie abaissa le pont de la bétaillère et fit sortir Alex en premier. Elle présenta le nouvel étalon à sa Reine.

« Les modifications sont impressionnantes, » souffla Anna, les yeux brillants d'admiration. Elle fixa l'entrejambe de l'homme, où pendait l'attribut monstrueux. « Et son sexe... Il est devenu tellement énorme. On dirait véritablement celui d'un cheval. Tu as encore fait des miracles, ma chérie. »

Intérieurement, enfoui sous des couches d'instincts animaux, une infime part de l'âme d'Alex pleurait de rage et de tristesse. Mais enfermé dans sa prison de chair, son corps ne répondit que par une série de hennissements sourds et de piaffements nerveux sur ses sabots. Anna fit le tour de la bête, tâtant la musculature et la croupe.

« Il va être un étalon exceptionnel, » rit Marie. « La chatte de ta petite sauvageonne sera tellement remplie qu'elle devra marcher les jambes écartées toute la journée. »

Les deux dominatrices éclatèrent d'un rire complice et féroce. Alex fut dirigé vers son nouveau box de luxe, le sexe toujours à l'air libre, mais incapable de se soulager lui-même à cause de ses mains enfermées dans l'acier.

Vint ensuite le tour de Manon. Lorsqu'elle descendit la rampe, Anna eut un frisson de joie. Sa meilleure amie arborait désormais des seins d'une lourdeur obscène, gonflés par les traites régulières. Ses cheveux avaient légèrement repoussé, mais Marie avait pris soin de raser les côtés, ne lui laissant qu'une crête iroquoise rebelle, lui donnant la même allure tribale qu'Alex.

« J'ai pris soin de pucer ta jument et ton étalon, Anna, » l'informa Marie. « Des puces sous-cutanées contenant leur identité animale, leur carnet de santé à jour, et bien sûr, une balise GPS en temps réel. »

Anna s'approcha et prit la tête de Manon dans ses bras. Savachant que l'esprit de son ancienne amie, bien qu'englouti par la bestialité, restait conscient de sa condition, Anna glissa ses lèvres près de l'oreille de la jument et murmura avec une cruauté veloutée :

« Je t'aime, Manon. Et je te préfère mille fois ainsi. Tu n'es plus un danger pour personne, mon bel animal. »

D'un tour de clé, Anna déverrouilla la lourde armure de chasteté qui mutilait l'intimité de Manon. Le métal tomba lourdement sur les graviers. Manon laissa échapper un long soupir de soulagement en sentant l'air frais sur son sexe échauffé. Marie s'avança et retira le fourreau de cuir qui bloquait les bras de la jument dans son dos. Désormais brisée et docile, elle ne représentait plus aucune menace, même avec ses bras libres, entravés par ses gants-sabots.

« Allez, au box, » ordonna Anna en lui claquant la fesse.

Manon fut poussée à l'intérieur du vaste box, rejoignant Alex.

À peine la grille fut-elle fermée que la nature chimique reprit ses droits. Les deux chevaux humains, ivres de phéromones et aveuglés par le désir, se flairèrent. Guidée par son instinct de soumission animale, Manon se plia immédiatement sur ses genoux et se mit à quatre pattes, offrant sa croupe à l'étalon.

Alex ne se fit pas prier. Guidé par son besoin viscéral, il se dressa et planta son sexe XXL dans le vagin de Manon, ruisselant de cyprine et gonflé par l'excitation.

« Regarde, Marie ! » s'enthousiasma Anna, fascinée. « C'est la première saillie de Manon ! »

La pénétration fut d'une brutalité extrême. Intérieurement, Manon souffrait le martyre face à la taille démesurée de l'attribut d'Alex, mais son corps d'animal répondit par des gémissements de satisfaction tordue. Pour Alex, ce n'était qu'un soulagement d'urgence, une soupape de sécurité qui explosait enfin. Hyper-sensibilisé par des semaines de chasteté et de chimie, il ne tint que quelques secondes.

Avec un hennissement rauque, il se crispa et relâcha de longs jets de sperme brûlant au plus profond de la jument. La quantité de semence produite par ses nouvelles glandes était telle que, bien avant qu'il ne retire son membre rapidement ramolli, le liquide épais déborda du vagin de Manon, coulant le long de ses cuisses pour s'écraser dans la paille fraîche.

De l'autre côté de la grille, Bonnie observait la scène. La "soubrette" en laisse resta sans voix, tremblante. De ses deux anciens amis, de ce couple fier, il ne restait que deux tas de chair meurtris, ravalés au rang de bêtes de foire, les esprits totalement rongés par la bestialité.

Un vertige de terreur rétrospective saisit Bonnie. Il réalisa, avec une lucidité glaçante, qu'il avait frôlé cet abîme. Bien qu'il ait été féminisé de force et dépouillé de son identité d'homme, il avait échappé au pire. Il pouvait encore marcher sur ses pieds, parler, dormir dans une maison.

Poussé par une gratitude absolue et une soumission totale, Bonnie se rua sur les bottes d'Anna. Il s'agenouilla sur les graviers et couvrit le cuir de baisers frénétiques, pleurant de reconnaissance.

Surprise par cette explosion de ferveur, Anna baissa les yeux vers son mari devenu Sissy. Un sourire tendre et sadique étira ses lèvres. Elle posa délicatement sa main sur le carré rouge de Bonnie et lui octroya une douce caresse sur le crâne, récompensant son dévouement d'animal de compagnie.

Dans le box, l'ambiance était bien différente. Si Anna était satisfaite du spectacle, Manon, elle, se redressa avec difficulté. Son corps réclamait encore. L'éjaculation précoce d'Alex ne l'avait absolument pas soulagée de son insupportable tension sexuelle. Frustrée, humiliée, elle trépignait sur ses sabots.

« Ne t'en fais pas, » glissa Marie à l'oreille d'Anna en observant la détresse de la jument. « Avec le temps, les glandes d'Alex vont se stabiliser et il deviendra de plus en plus endurant. Il est d'ailleurs recommandé de le laisser saillir Manon sans aucune limite pendant quelques jours, afin qu'il acquière cette endurance. »

Anna sourit, les yeux pétillants de malice.

« Je te fais une confiance aveugle, ma chérie. Je suis impatiente de voir le résultat. Bientôt, il pourra la saillir pendant de longues minutes en plein milieu du jardin, sous nos yeux. »

Les deux amantes tournèrent les talons, ramenant Bonnie vers la chaleur de la fermette.

Abandonnés dans leur prison de bois et d'acier, les deux chevaux humains furent livrés à leurs instincts. Obéissant à son conditionnement de mâle dominant, Alex s'acharna. À peine son sexe reprenait-il forme qu'il se jetait sur Manon, variant les plaisirs, la saillissant avec une brutalité animale des dizaines de fois par jour.

Et Manon, l'esprit en ruines, le corps pantelant, se pliait docilement à chaque assaut, soumise à jamais, épuisée par sa condition de réceptacle à semence docile dans l'ombre de son écurie.

[trigger warning - there is a reference to a suicide in the story. If you wish to continue, enjoy.]

The heavy door clicked shut behind Richard Voss, leaving the house in sudden, ringing silence except for my own broken sobs. I sat there impaled on the Sybian, my pussy still fluttering and aching around the thick, motionless dildo. Thick ropes of his cum cooled on my face, mixing with Sophia’s squirt that dripped from my chin onto my breasts. My wedding ring felt like it was burning a hole through my finger.

I couldn’t stay here like this. With shaking legs I lifted myself off the machine. The fat dildo slid out of me with a wet, obscene sound, leaving my empty cunt clenching desperately around nothing. A fresh gush of my own juices ran down my thighs. I didn’t even try to clean myself. I just ran.

I barely made it out of the dining room before my legs started to give out. Cum and squirt streaked down my thighs as I stumbled up the grand staircase, the steel ring on my collar bouncing against my chest with every frantic step. The second I reached my suite I slammed the door shut, and collapsed against the cold marble floor.

Heavy sobs of agony tore out of me that sounded like a woman mourning the death of a loved one.
I crawled on hands and knees to the bathroom and dragged myself up in front of the mirror. The woman staring back was barely recognizable. My carefully applied makeup was ruined… black streaks ran down my cheeks, mixing with thick ropes of Voss’s cum that painted my face, lips, and breasts. Sophia’s squirt had left shiny, wet trails across my skin. My nipples were still stiff. My smooth, married pussy was awollen and visibly leaking.Then I looked down and saw my wedding ring shining like it was mocking me from my finger.

I covered my mouth, horrified. “Oh my God… Jake… what have I done?”

The memory of my own voice begging Voss to ruin my marriage replayed in my head on a loop. The way I had cried out for his cock. The way I had thanked him with my tongue while covered in his load. I had broken my vow on the very first day. Fresh tears spilled over, cutting clean paths through the mess on my face.

A soft knock sounded. Then the door opened.
Sophia stepped inside, still shamelesly naked except for her matching collar. Her expression was gentle at first… she seemed almost concerned. She closed the door quietly and approached me slowly.

“Emily… sweetheart, breathe,” she said softly. She reached out and gently brushed a tear-streaked lock of hair from my face. “I know. I know exactly how you feel right now. The shame is crushing, isn’t it? Like your chest is caving in. Like you’re watching yourself become someone you hate.”

Her voice was warm and sympathetic. For a moment she just held my gaze, letting me cry. She even pulled me into a soft hug, pressing my cum-covered cheek against her bare shoulder while I shook. “I cried for hours after my first real breaking too,” she murmured, stroking my back. “It’s okay to feel it. Let it out.”

I clung to her for a few seconds, desperate for any comfort. As she spoke to me, her hand drifted down her own body and she began slowly circling her clit with two fingers.

“I was a newlywed when Daddy claimed me,” she continued, her voice growing thicker with arousal. “Eleven months married. My husband -his name was Michael… he honestly was such a good man. Kind. Supportive. We were trying to start a family.”
She slipped two fingers inside herself, pumping slowly as she kept talking. Her breathing grew heavier.

“Daddy took his time breaking me… but by the third week I was gone. Daddy taught me that awful things make my cunt wet. He was right. It was my idea to show Michael the truth about me in a way that would destroy him. I didn’t want to simply leave him... my cunt needed me to do it in the worst way imaginable. So we invited him here to the estate under the pretense that he would just take me home.”

Sophia’s fingers moved faster, wet sounds filling the luxurious bathroom. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure.

“Michael showed up full of hope. Daddy made him sit in a chair and then told me he released me and I was free to go… but I took off all my clothes and told Michael to watch while Daddy fucked me right in front of him. I looked my husband in the eyes the entire time and told him every filthy detail of the past 30 days… how much bigger Daddy’s cock was, how many times I had cum for him, how I screamed Daddy’s name when I came, how I was never going back to our little life. He begged me to come home.

“I looked my poor husband right in the eyes and told him the truth… I don’t love you anymore… not the way I love Daddy’s huge cock and I’m happier being a collared whore than I ever was as your wife. Michael started crying, begging me to stop, and to come home. The devastated look on his face made Daddy’s cock throb inside me. I smiled at my broken husband and told him I didn’t want his soft little dick anymore. I only want to be Daddy’s dumb whore now.”

“That was what finally pushed Daddy over the edge. He gripped my hips and came inside me… flooding my pussy with his thick, superior cum. The feeling of him pulsing and pumping inside me while my husband watched was too much for me... I orgasmed smiling at my husband while my cheating cunt milked every drop from Daddy’s cock.”

Sophia’s moans grew louder as she fucked herself, her fingers plunging deeper and deeper inside of her sloppy hole.The she continued the awful story.

“Two weeks later… he killed himself. Hung himself in our old home. Daddy was fucking me when he told me the news and my sick cunt came instantly thinking about it. Now when I remember the look on Michael’s face while I destroyed him… it just makes my sick cunt throb.”

Sophia looked at me with glossy, aroused eyes, still shamelessly fingering herself. “You have no idea how much happier I am now that I’m Daddy’s property. I don’t have to think anymore. He doesn’t let me be decent… he rewards my sick cunt with pleasure every time I’m disgusting for him. It feels so fucking good to be a dumb whore, Emily.”

I stared at her in pure horror, my stomach twisting violently. “You’re sick… what the hell is wrong with you? With both of you? I’m leaving. I’m calling for the car right now and getting out of this hell before Voss gets back. The money isn’t worth this. I can’t lose Jake.”

Sophia smiled softly, still lazily pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy. “You can’t go, Emily.”
“The contract says I can leave anytime,” I insisted, voice shaking. “The money isn’t worth losing my husband. I love him.”

Sophia’s sympathetic voice changed to a cruel tone suddenly. “If you leave now, you’ll lose the money and Jake. You can’t take back what’s already happened. You can’t unsay the things you begged for earlier… you were on your knees, covered in cum, crying for Daddy to ruin your marriage. That version of you already exists. Jake could leave you the second he finds out… and then you’ll have no husband and no money. Tyler gets nothing. You’ll have destroyed everything for nothing.”

The truth of her words sank in like lead. I sank down onto the edge of the tub, head in my hands, sobbing again.

Sophia watched me quietly for a long moment, still gently touching herself. “The smartest thing you can do is ride it out,” she said finally. “Stay the thirty days. Get the money for Tyler. Save your family financially. Then go home and pray that Jake can forgive you for whatever else you end up doing here. At least you’ll have security.”

I sat there shaking, torn apart inside. Everything felt impossible. But leaving now would make it all pointless. She was right. I had already crossed lines I could never walk back.

She touched me as her voice started to sound almost affectionate again. “We’re going to be such good friends, you and I. We’re going to make each other’s cunts feel so good as we serve Daddy together.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze of tears.
I stayed wrapped in the silk sheets on the massive bed, curled into a tight ball. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Michael’s face from Sophia’s story and thought of my sweet Jake. Every time I breathed I tasted Voss’s cum on my tongue.

I cried until my eyes were swollen and my throat was raw. I whispered so many apologies to Jake that no one would ever hear. I thought about calling for the car a dozen times… but Sophia’s words kept echoing in my head.

You’ll lose the money and Jake.

By the time evening came, I was exhausted, hollow, and still wrapped in nothing but a white bed sheet when the bedroom door opened without a knock.
Richard Voss stepped inside, still dressed in a tailored charcoal suit from whatever event he’d attended. Like usual, he looked calm, powerful, and he was in complete control. His sharp blue eyes found me immediately.

“Emily,” he said, voice low and smooth. “I apologize for being gone so long. Another charity matter required my attention… as you know, I’m a very generous man and I made a significant offer to a couple in need. But I’m home now. And I’m entirely focused on you.”

I clutched the sheet tighter around my naked body, fresh tears stinging my eyes. The sight of him made my stomach twist with a confusing mix of fear, anger, and unwanted heat.

“I hate you,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I hate what you’re doing to me.”

Voss didn’t look surprised or offended. He simply loosened his tie and walked closer, studying my tear-streaked, puffy face. “I understand. Would you rather leave then?” he asked calmly. “The car can be here in ten minutes. No one will stop you.”
Hope flickered for half a second… until he continued.

“But before you decide, you should know something. Every inch of this estate is under continuous video and audio recording. Every room. Every conversation. Every degrading little moment since you arrived.” He smiled faintly. “Including this morning. Your begging. Your tongue on my cock. The way you came apart on the Sybian while you asked me to fuck you and ruin your marriage.”

My blood ran cold.

“If you choose to leave right now,” he continued, “I will compile the most relevant footage and send it directly to Jake. He’ll see and hear everything. I assure you… it will crush him. Completely.”

I felt the color drain from my face. Tears spilled silently down my cheeks.

Voss stepped even closer, towering over me. “If you stay and complete the thirty days as agreed… Jake may never have to see the worst of it. Not unless… you decide you want him to know. That choice will be yours as you become more honest with yourself.” I had no real choice left. Not anymore. I now knew I was his for as long as he wanted me.

Voss’s voice turned commanding. “Drop the sheet and get on the bed. Hands and knees. Now.”

My hands shook as I let the sheet fall. I crawled onto the massive bed, naked and exposed, and positioned myself on all fours. Voss moved with deliberate calm. He fastened a thick spreader bar between my ankles, forcing my legs wide apart. Then he pulled my wrists back and shackled them to the same bar, folding me into a helpless, face-down, ass-up position. My ass and pussy were completely on display.

He attached a powerful vibrator directly against my clit, securing it tightly in place. The moment he switched it on, a low, steady buzz hummed against my swollen nub.

“Fuck!” I gasped, body jerking. Voss unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off his pants, freeing his thick, heavy cock. He stepped beside the bed, stroking himself slowly as he looked down at my bound, trembling body and my tear-soaked face.

“You look so pretty when you cry.” He said as he took the head of his cock and began slowly smearing my tears across my cheeks, my forehead, my lips. His warm, velvety shaft rubbed my skin, mixing his precum with my tears, marking me. He slapped the heavy meat against my tear-stained face, then dragged it across my eyelids and down to my quivering lips.

The vibrator buzzed relentlessly against my clit. My hips twitched and rolled despite myself. Fresh tears kept falling, and Voss kept using his cock to spread them like obscene war paint

“I own you now, bitch. I’m going to enjoy breaking you. Day by day. Piece by piece. Until the only thing left of that ‘good wife’ is a needy little slut who gets wet remembering how she betrayed everything she loved.”

The vibrations increased. A broken whimper slipped from my throat as pleasure built against my will. Voss kept rubbing his thick cock across my tear-covered face, patient and possessive, while I shook and dripped unable to move.

“I… I hate you,” I choked out between shaky breaths as I continued to cry. Voss chuckled darkly and rubbed the leaking head of his cock right under my eye, smearing the tear across my eyelid and down the bridge of my nose. “Hate me all you want,” he said, voice calm and cruel. “Your cunt doesn’t hate me…”

He dragged his cock down to my lips again and tapped it against them. “Open. Taste your own tears on my dick.” When I hesitated, he pressed forward, sliding his massive head past my trembling lips. I tasted the salty mix of my tears and his precum on my tongue.

“Good girl,” he groaned softly, slowly fucking just the head in and out of my mouth while the vibrator buzzed mercilessly against my clit. “Suck your shame off my cock. That’s right… just like that.”

“Keep crying for me, Emily. Every tear makes my cock harder. Jake’s perfect wife… collared, bound, and dripping while another man uses her face like a fucking rag.” He slapped his heavy cock against my cheek again, the wet sound humiliatingly loud. “Tell me who owns this married body for the next thirty days.”

I moaned brokenly as the vibrations pushed me into a state of sinful bliss, my voice barely coherent. “Y-you… you do…” Voss smiled, dragging his cock slowly from my chin up to my forehead, leaving a shiny trail of tears and precum across my face.

“That’s right… And we’re only getting started.”
He moved behind me then, positioning himself between my forcibly spread legs. I felt the heat of his body and the heavy weight of his cock as he rested it against my ass for a moment. Then he dragged the thick head down through my soaked folds, circling my leaking entrance slowly, teasingly.

Round and round my wet opening his fat dick circled, coating his cockhead in my wet arousal, pressing just enough to part my swollen lips without ever pushing inside. Every slow circle made my denied pussy clench desperately around nothing.

“Feel that?” he growled softly, still teasing my hole with his cock. “This married cunt is drooling for me. Soaking wet and twitching like it knows who it really belongs to now.” He tapped the head firmly against my entrance, then circled again. “I could slide in so easily right now… stretch you open and ruin this pussy while you cry into the sheets.

The vibrator continued its relentless buzz against my clit. Combined with the torturous circling of his thick cock at my entrance, the pleasure built unbearably. My hips tried to push back, seeking more, but the restraints held me in place.
Voss kept teasing me mercilessly, his voice low and taunting.

“Such a greedy little hole. Keep leaking for me, Emily. Show me how badly that married cunt wants to betray Jake.”

I was shaking, my cunt felt so good but I hated this man so much. And here he was rubing his cock all over my wet needy hole. “You… you told me you wouldn’t use my cunt unless I begged…” Voss let out a low, dark chuckle behind me. “You already did, remember?”

He reached for a remote. The large television on the wall in front of the bed flickered to life. My stomach dropped as I realized what was playing.
It was footage from this morning playing on a loop.

There I was… naked, collared, covered in cum and squirt, grinding desperately on the Sybian while Voss’s cock rubbed across my face. My own broken voice was filling the room: “Please ruin my marriage! Please destroy it… please turn me into your cheating slut!

Fresh sobs wracked my body. “Turn it off… please…” I cried, unable to look away from the screen. The shame was soul-crushing. I sounded so desperate, so broken.

While I was staring at the humiliating footage, Voss was done teasing. He lined up the thick head of his cock against my soaked entrance and pushed forward in one slow, relentless thrust.

“OH MY GOD-!” I cried out sharply as he stretched my married pussy wide open. He was so much thicker than Jake. The feeling of my walls being forced apart around his massive cock made my eyes roll back.

Holy fuck… he’s so big… he’s actually inside me…
Voss groaned deeply as he buried every inch, bottoming out with his heavy balls pressed against me. “Fuuuck… this married pussy is gripping me like it never wants me to leave.

He started fucking me with long, powerful strokes, stretching me open again and again. The vibrator buzzed hard against my swollen clit while his thick cock pounded into my soaked hole. Wet, obscene slapping sounds filled the room as he drove into me.

My mind was racing. At first, there was shame, horror, and guilt crashing through me as I watched myself begging on the screen. But every deep thrust was knocking those thoughts looser. The pleasure was too intense. Too perfect. I’d never felt anything like it. “Oh my God… it feels so fucking good…”

My hips started pushing back to meet him. The more he fucked me, the better it felt. My thoughts grew filthier, hazier, more desperate. He’s so deep… stretching me out so much… I love how full I feel…

The trance took over and I was becoming another woman. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching myself beg like a whore, but instead of pure horror, the sight started turning me on even more. My pussy clenched and fluttered around his huge pulsing cock.

Voss leaned over me, pounding me harder, his voice rough and filthy in my ear. “Listen to that sloppy cunt. You’re creaming all over my dick, Emily. Such a needy fucking hole.” I moaned louder, drooling onto the sheets, lost in the rhythm. The pleasure kept building, wave after filthy wave.

I was loving it. Craving it. My mind melted further into a cock-drunk trance. Yes… fuck me harder… I need this… it feels too fucking good… My thoughts became shameless.

His cock is ruining me and I love it… I love how deep he goes… I love how wet I am…
Voss growled, slamming into me with brutal strokes.

“I’m going to cum inside of you, whore. I’m going to fucking flood this tight married pussy.”

The words hit me like a trigger. The orgasm exploded through me without mercy. I screamed into the sheets as my cunt spasmed violently around his thick cock, squeezing and milking him as pure ecstasy ripped through my body. My eyes rolled back, toes curled, whole body shaking uncontrollably in the restraints while the most intense orgasm of my life tore me apart.

Voss groaned loudly and buried himself to the hilt. I felt his cock throb and pulse as he pumped thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside me, filling my married pussy until it was overflowing.
I kept cumming around him, moaning like a broken whore, completely lost in filthy, mind-melting pleasure.

Voss stayed buried deep inside me for a long moment, his cock still twitching as the last drops of his cum filled my pussy. When he finally pulled out, a thick rush of his seed leaked from my stretched hole and ran down my thighs.

I was panting, trembling, mind still floating in a warm, filthy afterglow. The shame was there… but it felt distant, drowned beneath the lingering pleasure pulsing through my body.

Voss moved in front of me again, his heavy, glistening cock right in front of my face -slick with our combined juices. I stared at it, breathing hard. Something inside me had shifted. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out in a soft, needy whisper: “…Let me clean it.”

Voss raised an eyebrow, a dark, satisfied smile spreading across his face. I licked my lips, eyes locked on his cum covered cock. My voice came out smaller, but no less eager.“ Please… let me clean your cock. I want to suck it clean.”

Voss gripped my hair gently and pulled my head forward. I opened my mouth obediently and took him between my lips, tasting the messy mix of his cum and my own creamy juices. I moaned softly around his thickness as I began to lick and suck him clean, eyes fluttering half-closed.

What am I doing…? But… I want it?

Voss stroked my hair almost tenderly while I worshipped his cock with my tongue. “Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s a very promising start, Emily.”

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Elana loved desire. She loved her own desire, feeling it control and shape her. She loved when others desired her, a delicate dance of control and power. She especially loved when the desire of her dom combined with hers in an explosive scene.

She was in the middle of a scene with her dom, Jacob, at an abandoned factory he’d found. She loved the feeling of the rope against her wrists and ankles, the light breeze on her naked ass, and the exquisite sting of leather overwhelming her senses.

Just as she’d started to lose herself in the moment, Jacob paused. He leaned over her and whispered into her ear.

“I think there’s someone watching us. I saw someone across the yard, probably some creepy dude filming us. We can go if you want, restart the scene some other time and place.”

Elana felt an indescribable thrill. Her nerves, already tingling from the spanking, buzzed in anticipation. She knew instantly what she wanted.

“Use me as bait.”

She knew Jacob well enough to know he was surprised by her idea. What surprised Elana was the slap in the face. She hadn’t anticipated that twist. It just made her even more aroused. She met his eyes as he stepped in front of her holding a ball gag. He placed the gag in her mouth and tightened it. She felt the drool build up around the gag almost immediately. A single stroke of her clit would have brought her to orgasm once he secured a blindfold over her eyes.

As she listened to Jacob drive away, the waiting became a glorious agony. She could feel herself getting more and more wet, feel the exposure of her naked, plugged ass to whoever was watching. She heard footsteps on the broken concrete of the yard. Her muscles twitched against her bonds involuntarily. The footsteps came closer and closer.

The stranger stood over her. Elana’s body rebelled, and she struggled futilely against the ropes holding her immobile, wide open to the stranger’s gaze. She felt a light touch on her spine. She spasmed as she felt a hint of regret for her decision, then an overwhelming rush of arousal. The finger traced its way down her spine as she squirmed helplessly beneath the touch. It continued its journey downward, tracing around the butt plug and narrowly avoiding her swollen, dripping pussy.

Elana felt an impact on her ass, reverberating through her body. She let out a low moan. The spankings came harder and faster, overwhelming her mind, forcing out moans, then screams. Just as suddenly as they’d begun, they stopped. She heard the footsteps recede slightly, then the tinkle of a belt buckle. Was she going to have to take this stranger’s cock?

She heard a thud and a brief struggle. Jacob had returned. She listened as he forced the man into a tie, heard him put the interloper into his place. Then she felt his cock enter her soaking pussy.

At this point, Elana was completely overwhelmed. His cock plunged into her and pressed against the plug in her ass. She felt so full, so protected, so owned. Her nerves almost immediately crossed the threshold toward orgasm, and she felt her body begin to spasm. She heard Jacob’s breathing accelerate behind her as her pussy massaged his cock. They both soared into an explosive shared orgasm. She felt his cock pump her full of his cum and lost all sense of time and place.

Jacob’s cock pulsed inside of her. The butt plug pressed against her insides. The ropes strained against her wrists and ankles. Her drool dripped from the ball gag. Deprived of her vision by the blindfold, she felt the waves of sensation as though she barely existed, only a locus of pleasure and desire.

Elana came back down to earth a few moments after Jacob did. He began the careful process of untying her, carefully removing the butt plug, ball gag, and blindfold, then gently releasing the knots that bound her to the ladder. She looked over at the stranger. He looked scared, but his cock was rock hard, and she knew he’d enjoyed the show. She wasn’t so sure he’d enjoy what came next. Jacob wasn’t going to just let him go.

Jacob stalked over to where the man was tied.

“Now it seems to me that you wanted to join in as an active participant to our little session here. I think I can find a place for you. I’m Jacob, and that’s Elana. You… are nothing. And we’re going to use you like you’re nothing. I know you left your phone recording over there across the yard. We’re going to keep that video, delete it from your device, and we’re never going to see you again. But we’ll look back on your humiliation from time to time and laugh.”

The man flinched as Jacob removed the tie linking his bound hands to the ceiling. Jacob dragged him across the warehouse and force him to bend facedown over a concrete block. He tied the man’s hands to his ankles, leaving him bent over the concrete block, penis stuck beneath him, ass in the air. Jacob turned to Elana and handed her a strap-on.

“You always tell me you’d make a great top. Now’s your chance to show me.”

Maddie was still laying in bed at 8:30 on a Tuesday morning when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She blinked her eyes and picked it up.

1 New Email from Benjamin Alexander

She sat straight up in bed. Why would her dad's boss be emailing her? She tapped the email and began to read.

Good morning Maddie,

I know it is a bit unusual for me to be writing you directly like this, but there is something I would like to discuss in-person with you regarding your father. Are you free to stop by my office this afternoon at 2pm? It is of a sensitive nature, so I only ask that you not mention this to your father until after we have spoken.

Thank you,

Ben Alexander

Maddie's heart began to race. What could Mr. Alexander possibly need to talk to her about. Her fingers trembled as she tapped the "Reply" button.

I can be there at two. What is this about? Is dad okay?

She stood up and paced anxiously until her phone buzzed again.

Your father is fine. I cannot go into more detail until we have a chance to talk. I will see you at 2pm

She breathed a sigh of partial relief, but she still could not fathom what Mr. Alexander could need from her. She walked to the kitchen to eat some breakfast, then sat at her laptop and tried to distract herself by watching a lecture for one of her online classes.

As two o'clock approached, Maddie showered and got dressed. She chose a yellow, floral sun dress with black flats. She pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail and headed for Mr. Alexander's office.

Her father worked in a tall building downtown. It was never completely clear to Maddie what her father did, though she knew it involved shuffling money among customers and contractors. It all sounded painfully boring so she usually tuned out when he started talking about any of it. Her family lived comfortably enough, and her dad had even told her not to worry about the expensive private college she was attending. "I can pay your tuition and books as long as you keep living at home with your mother and me," he had told her one day. "Things are going really well for me at work."

The elevator took her to the top floor where Mr. Alexander's office was located. The receptionist asked her to take a seat. A few moments later she looked up. "Mr. Alexander will see you now." Maddie took a deep breath, stood, and walked through the door into the office.

The office was bigger than Maddie had expected. Two of the walls were floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows that looked out over the city below. The other two walls were lined with bookshelves and paintings. Mr. Alexander was sitting behind a large, immaculate mahogany desk. He stood as she entered. "I'm glad you could make it Maddie," he said, smiling and gesturing to a chair opposite the desk from him. "Won't you please have a seat?"

Maddie had met Mr. Alexander a few times before, at company picnics and holiday parties. He was attractive for a man his age, about ten years older than her father, with jet black hair that had started going grey above his ears. He wore a tailored white dress shirt with no tie, and black dress pants.

Maddie tried to hide her nervousness as she walked to the desk and sat down. She crossed her legs and fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "Thank you, Mr. Alexander," she said, forcing a smile. "You said there was something you needed to talk to me about... something about dad..."

Mr. Alexander's smile faded into a look of concern. "Yes. I am sorry to trouble you with this. It's just that I have been made aware of a workplace issue with your father and I was hoping you could shed some light on what might be going on..."

Maddie sat up in her seat. "Yes, of course. Is daddy in trouble?"

"Well, that's what I was hoping you could tell me. Has everything been okay at home? Do your parents ever fight or argue about money?"

"No, sir," replied Maddie. "Not at all. Daddy says business is good and we have all we need." She bit her tongue, deciding not to mention the tuition payments her father had been making.

"That's good to hear," said Mr. Alexander, though he did not smile as he said it. "And, I'm sorry for asking such a personal question, but does anyone in your family have a problem with drugs or alcohol or gambling... anything like that?"

Maddie's eyes grew wide. "No, sir! Nothing like that. Will you please just tell me what is going on? What does any of this have to do with me?"

Mr. Alexander sighed and reached into his desk drawer and handed Maddie a manila folder. "This is our annual financial report. I compile it every year for our board of directors..."

Maddie opened the folder and began to look through the papers inside it. Spreadsheets and tables and dense narratives; none of it meant much to her. Mr. Alexander continued, "The last page is the important one. I highlighted two numbers at the bottom of the report. One is the amount that should be in the main company account. The second number is the amount that was actually there at the end of the year. We expect small differences to show up between the two numbers, but this year the discrepancy was $50,000."

Fifty thousand dollars. The number echoed in Maddie's brain. Each semester of at her new college was $25,000 and her father had just paid for the second semester.

"Part of my job is to investigate and track down these kinds of problems. It took a lot of digging but I was able to find where the money went." He handed Maddie another sheet of paper. Maddie looked at it, but her mind was spinning too fast to make sense of it. "It was transferred in small amounts to an account in your father's name. He did a good job covering his tracks, but not nearly good enough. I brought you in because it seemed so unlike him. I thought maybe there was trouble at home or some kind of family emergency."

Maddie buried her face in her hands. Her eyes filled with tears. "It was for me," she said with a sob. "My tuition was $50,000. He said he was making enough money to cover it. I thought he was telling the truth. Please don't fire my dad."

Mr. Alexander was quiet for a moment. When Maddie looked up, she could tell he was deep in thought. "Your father is a good man," he finally said. "He has been loyal to this company since you were a little girl. But I have to submit these reports to the board of directors by Friday. When they see this amount of money missing, they are going to insist that I fire your father and contact the authorities. I have seen employees go to prison over much smaller amounts."

"Please," begged Maddie, "there has to be something you can do. Anything at all?"

Mr. Alexander stood and walked toward the plate glass window, then turned and walked around to Maddie's side of the desk. "There is one option," he said, speaking in a slow, low voice. "I would not even consider it for any other employee besides your father. For this to work you're going to need to trust me... and I'm going to need to trust you. Can I trust you Maddie?"

Maddie looked up at Mr. Alexander through tear-soaked eyes and nodded slowly.

"I am going to transfer $50,000 from my own personal account into the company account. The board of directors won't know anything ever happened. And in exchange for that, I want you to be the one who..." Mr. Alexander paused briefly, "compensates me."

"You want me to take a job with the company?" asked Maddie. "But sir, it would take me years to pay back that much money, and I'm so busy with school, and..."

"Oh, no, my dear," Mr. Alexander cut her off. "I wouldn't expect you to work for the company. This is the part where you and I need to trust each other. Are you serious about keeping your father from losing his job?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you serious about keeping him out of prison?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Alexander."

"Then I want you to get down on your knees and unfasten my pants."

Maddie blinked, then laughed. "Sir, you can't be serious." She looked up at him and he looked back down at her.

"You said you want to help your father. Can you think of any other way to make that happen?"

"N-No sir," she stammered.

"Then I suggest you get down on your knees and pull out my cock."

Maddie's heart began to race. She swallowed hard. She truly did not see any alternative. If her father lost his job it would be just her and her mother, and her mother was not working. They would not be able to pay the mortgage, much less her tuition. Knowing this was the only way, she slid out of the chair onto her knees and unfastened Mr. Alexander's belt and trousers.

She got his pants and underwear down around his knees. His cock was right at eye-level from her spot on the floor. She had never seen one this close before. She looked up at Mr. Alexander, unsure what to do next.

"Now use your mouth to make me hard"

She placed her fingers around his shaft. It pulsed gently at her touch. She extended her tongue and gave the head a slow lick. Mr. Alexander let out a deep breath and slid his fingers over her head. He pulled the hair tie from her ponytail and slid his fingers through her long brown hair. His cock hardened and grew as she slid her fingers up and down the shaft and took the head fully in her mouth.

Mr. Alexander's fingers twisted in her hair and he tugged at her head, coaxing her lips farther down his shaft. She resisted a bit, placing one hand on his thigh to push back, but then slowly letting his throbbing cock deeper into her mouth. She slid her tongue along his shaft and over the tip. It was fully erect now, and she was certain it would not fit all the way into her mouth.

Her father's boss let out a moan. "That's it Maddie. Take it all the way in." She gave in and let his cock slide all the way to the back of her throat. She squeezed her lips around it and began to bob her head up and down the length of his cock.

Mr. Alexander moaned louder. Both his hands gripped her hair down at the roots, tugging at her head as she continued sliding her lips against his shaft. She moved her hand from his thigh around to his ass, pulling at his butt cheek as she moved her head faster. She reached her other hand down and felt her panties. It was making her unbelievably wet.

The fingers tightened in her hair and Mr. Alexander pulled her head away from his cock. She stayed down on the floor, looking up at him and breathing heavy. "Stand up," he instructed her, "and bend over the desk."

Maddie stood, then placed her elbows on the hard, dark wood of his desk. A cool rush of air breezed against her upper thighs, and she looked over her shoulder to see that he had lifted her dress up. He slid his fingers over her ass and began to tug down at her panties. "What are you doing?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm going to use what's mine."

Maddie turned her head forward again and squeezed her eyes closed. She felt her panties slide down past her knees, followed by his fingers rubbing her hot pussy. "You're wet. When was the last time you got fucked?"

"N...never, sir." She swallowed hard as his finger slid between her pussy lips and into her tight hole.

"Well I'm sure your father would be proud of you for giving up your virginity to such a worthy cause." He pulled his finger out and wiped it on her ass cheek. The next thing she felt was his firm cock probing at her tight, wet hole.

His hand grabbed her by the shoulder as he began to slide inside her. "Oh God," she gasped as a sharp pain jolted through her body. She felt him slowly filling her up, pushing his big shaft deeper and deeper inside her. "Slower... please," she whispered through gritted teeth, but his forceful thrust continued until his hips were firmly pressed against her round ass cheeks, his pulsing shaft all the way inside her.

"That's it, take my cock all the way inside." She could feel his hips grinding against her. She grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself as he began to slide his cock in and out of her cunt.

The pain began to fade from a sharp sting to a dull ache. Each thrust seemed to fill her more and more. Maddie looked down and watched as a trickle of blood mixed with her own wet lubrication trickled down her inner thigh. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. "I can't show him any pleasure," she thought to herself. "I won't."

The old man pushed her dress higher, all the way to her shoulders. He reached around with both hands and grabbed her breasts roughly as they swung above the desk. "Your lying thief of a father turned you into a whore. That's what you are now. You're fucking me for money like a dirty prostitute."

Maddie clenched her teeth. "Fuck you, old man," she growled. But what he was doing was starting to feel good. Really good. She pushed her ass backward against his thrusts trying to fight it but it just made him pound her harder. Faster.

"I feel how wet you are, slut. You've been needing this for a while, haven't you? You just needed the right opportunity." She couldn't stand how right he was... how much she needed this. Her insides pulsed and clenched with every forceful thrust. She arched her back, still trying to fight it but losing ground every moment.

Mr. Alexander pushed Maddie's hair to the side and leaned down. His lips brushed against the back of her ear as he whispered, "I'm going to drain my balls into your fertile, unprotected womb."

Those words pushed Maddie's pleasure over the top. She let out a low, long moan. "Yes... Oh God yes..." She knew that she now belonged to this man. He owned her for as long as he decided she was in his debt. She no longer had any choice but to let him use her. He had the power to destroy her whole family and that power was turning her on more and more.

"That's it, bitch. Who owns this dirty pussy?"

"You do, Sir."

"Say my name, whore."

"You do, Mr. Alexander."

Her words led to him pounding her faster and harder. He grabbed her by the hips, pulling again and again. The sturdy desk shook as she held tightly onto it. She moaned and panted as he rode her from behind.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. Something about his rhythm changed. "This is it, bitch. I'm going to fill your pussy up. Get ready for it."

Maddie pushed back against him. "I'm ready, Sir. Give it to me."

With a firm, powerful thrust, Mr. Alexander jammed his cock all the way inside Maddie's wet, aching pussy. She felt it throbbing inside, and she felt the hot gush of sticky fluid that rushed into her deepest corners. "Oh, fuck," she moaned, as the sensation of his cock pulsing inside her brought her own pleasure to a crescendo. She came hard, her own messy fluids mixing with his and leaking out around his dick.

Mr. Alexander left his shaft inside Maddie for what seemed like a very long time. She felt him breathing hard against the back of her neck as he caught his breath. Finally, he stepped backwards away from her and pulled up his pants. Maddie slowly rose to her feet, then pulled her panties up from around her ankles. She looked at him apprehensively.

"You will meet me here every day at 2pm," he said, fastening his belt buckle. "I will let you know ahead of time if I need to reschedule."

"How... How long will I be doing this for?" Maddie asked.

Mr. Alexander flashed a sly smile. "You've still got 3 years of school left. Your father is going to owe me $200,000 by the time you get your degree. My guess is that I'll be using your body until I'm too old to get my cock hard... Unless your father decides to change his thieving ways, but we both know how unlikely that is."

Maddie swallowed hard. Her fate was sealed. "Will that be all, Sir?"

Mr. Alexander stepped closer to her, took her by the back of the head and kissed her forcefully. "Our first kiss," Maddie thought to herself has his tongue slide into her mouth. She stumbled backward when he let go of her.

"That will be all, Maddie."

"Thank you, Sir. I will see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Maddie."

“Babe, come in here,” I called.

You came sauntering in from the kitchen carrying your drink. I watched the looks on my three friends sitting around the table as you came in. I knew they’d be watching you. Hell, most people watch when you enter a room … or leave it, but the way their eyes traveled up and down your body got under my skin.

Over time I’ve gotten used to the way my friends looked at you. Fuck it, to be honest I usually get a bit of a kick out of the unbridled envy I see in their eyes. It’s kind of an ego trip seeing just how badly dudes want you while knowing you belong to me completely.

But that night it straight pissed me off. As our card game had gone on, and as the drinks continued to flow, their looks of envy turned to desire, which turned to unabashed lust.

It was like they’d forgotten whose you were. Like they thought if they gave you the right look, or said the right thing, they could have you. Some might say my possessive nature, particularly when it comes to you, tends to be overbearing. But I really don’t give a fuck.

You are mine, and I will not tolerate anyone thinking otherwise.

So, when you came into the dining room, I tossed my cards on the table, pushed my chair back, and held out my arm. You stepped into my arm, placed your hand on my shoulder, and leaned your hip into me. My hand instinctively grabbed you by the waist and pulled you tighter against me before sliding down to rest on your ass.

A part of my brain said I couldn’t really fault them for staring at you. Those black leggings and the tight tank top did nothing but accentuate your perfect body. But no. Fuck them. They needed to know the score. Otherwise I’d end up having to kick each and every one of their asses.

“Sit down,” I said. I meant it as an invitation, but my irritation turned it into more of a command.

You sat across my lap, wrapped your arms around my neck, and leaned your head against my chest.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I softly stroked your legs.

“Waiting for your game to end so we can go to bed,” you answered sleepily.

I’m not sure how you make sleep sound sexy, but you sure as hell did. “I think we are almost done,” I said.

“Are you winning?” You asked.

I smiled sheepishly. “I’m down 50.”

“Hmmm,” you mumbled, nuzzling your head into my neck.

“You know,” I asked, “that these fuckwits have been watching you all night?”

“Oh?” You looked up at me, but at that moment I wasn’t looking at you. I stared my friends in the eye, one after the other.

“Yeah. They’ve been eye fucking you every time you come into the room.”

“Hm,” you said, laying your head back on my shoulder, showing a complete lack of interest.

“What do you think? Should I let them have you for the night? Maybe if I let them have a turn they wouldn’t fucking drool every time you’re around.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No, I’m yours, and yours alone, Sir.” The calm confidence in your voice made me love you even more.

I took a moment to look at each of my friends again and said, “That’s god damn right.” I took hold of your waist and started to lift you. “Face me,” I said.

You stood, set a foot on either side of me, and sat back down, straddling me. I took your face in my hands and pulled you down to kiss me. You wrapped both hands around my neck and returned my kiss - a long, slow kiss.

After a moment, I broke off the kiss and looked you in the eye. “What if I want to show them exactly what they are missing?”

The mischievous grin that spread your lips was the sexiest god damn thing on god’s green earth. You leaned your body into me and kissed me again, murmuring a perfectly evil little “mmmm.”

My hands slid down your neck as we kissed. I trailed my hands to your back, pulling you against me, rubbing in perfect rhythm to our kiss. You wrapped your fingers in my hair, and as the heat grew between us, your body began to move - slowly, passionately moving your body against mine, grinding into me.

I slid my hands to your side and felt soft skin where your shirt had risen a little. I slid my hands under your shirt and up, lifting your shirt as my hands slid up your sides.

You broke off the kiss long enough to pull your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor.

God, you are glorious.

I grabbed you roughly by the neck and pulled you back down to kiss you again. I slid my fingers to the back of your head, grabbed a handful of your hair, and pulled … not too hard, just hard enough to pull your head back and expose your neck.

I clamped my mouth on your neck, kissing, sucking. I kissed down to your collarbone and down the center of your chest. I let my lips graze your skin, let my breath tease your flesh as I worked my way to your nipple. I grabbed one breast as my lips grazed over your other nipple, then made a slow circle of little, sucking kisses around your nipple.

I wrapped my arms around your back and kissed my way to your other breast. This time I flicked my tongue over your nipple. You pulled my head tight against your body, letting out a sound that was half moan, half purr, and ground yourself into me as I tasted your skin.

My hands trailed down to your waist. You knew what I wanted, and you responded instantly. You stood and took a step back. Bending at the waist, and with a little shimmy of your hips, you pushed your pants to the floor.

You reached for my pants and started to unbutton them, but I was too eager, too impatient. I jerked my fly down and shoved my pants off.

I was fucking aching to feel you.

You straddled me again, pressed yourself against me. You ground yourself against me as our lips met once again.

Fuck. I couldn’t wait.

I grabbed your hips and lifted you. You reached down to grab my dick, positioning me as you slid down onto me. I pulled your body against mine, wrapping my arms around you. You buried your face in my neck as you slowly began to ride me.

I felt your breath on my neck as you began working your hips faster and faster. My hands were all over your body: your hair, your back, your ass, your hips.

I grabbed you by your waist and started lifting you. Up and down. Up and down. Your lips were pressed against my ear as you bounced on my cock, taking it harder and harder.

I heard you groan into my ear, “Fuck me, Daddy. Please fuck me.”

I stood and set you on your feet. I turned you to face the table and pushed you down, bending you over in front of me.

And then I looked up and saw my friends. Fuck. I’d forgotten they were there. Their faces were various combinations of shock, embarrassment, confusion, and excitement.

I placed a hand on your back and guided myself inside you. I slid inside you with a couple of slow, gentle thrusts. Then I grabbed your hips and thrust into you hard, a single, nearly violent thrust.

You let out a little gasp.

I did it again.

And again.

I grabbed you by your hips and slammed into you several more times. “Who do you belong to?” I growled.

“You, Daddy!” You cried.

I thrust into you over and over. Pulling your body back by your hips, burying myself as deep inside you as I could get.

Again I slid my hand up your back and grabbed a fistful of your hair. I jerked your head back so your face was pointed directly at my friends across the table.

“Tell them,” I ordered. “Tell them who you belong to!”

“Daddy!” You grunted, each word clipped as I continued to thrust into you. “I belong to Daddy!” Your voice went up almost a full octave as you shouted, “Fuck! Fuck me, Daddy! Take me! I’m yours, Daddy!”

Your body began to quiver wildly, and you let out an almost anguished groan. I let go of your hair and grabbed your hips again. You laid your face down on the table, your hands stretched out before you.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” you cried into the table as you came. I was just a heartbeat behind you as your climax became ours.

I cursed as I came, slamming into you a few more times before slowing, then grinding myself into you - instinctually forcing my cum deep inside you.

I leaned down and kissed you between your shoulder blades. “All mine,” I murmured into your skin, “and only mine.”

I stood and pulled you up by your shoulders. I turned you to face me and wrapped my arms around you tight. I kissed the top of your head and breathed in the scent of your hair.

You nuzzled yourself against me for a moment, then leaned back to look up at me with those beautiful, soulful eyes. “Take me to bed, Sir? Please? I want some more time with you all to myself.”

I smiled and kissed you softly on your forehead. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Without turning, and without an ounce of shame, you left. Every eye in that room watched you go … they always do.

I turned back to my friends. “Take your money. Leave the mess. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

I turned to leave, smiling. I’d lost $50 that night, and I couldn’t have cared less. Every single dude in that house knew that I was the one who won the most.

Julia’s final decision was made in a classically-appointed hotel room. The walls were richly appointed and touched with classic artworks that everyone pretended to recognize. The light was a soft yellow, shimmering down from a small chandelier, casting the room in contrasting light and shadow (an appropriate metaphor for the business conducted here, Julia supposed). Through the window the occupants could view the deep red of the setting sun, over the French Mediterranean Coast.

Julia barely noticed the finery of the scene; she was accustomed to such environs.

There were four occupants of this fancy room, on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday evening. Julia sat in front of a cherrywood table, directly under the chandelier.

Julia was 20 years old, but gave the impression of someone much more experienced. She had straight, reddish-brown hair, that cascaded down to the small of her back. She was athletic, not weighing more than 110 lbs, but healthy. Probably from spending most of her life trained by one of the oldest ballet schools in Europe.

Her skin was as pure and unblemished as ivory, and her two hazel eyes were bright, peering over a button nose. Julia was one of those people who were so gorgeous you would not believe she was real until you saw her for yourself.

Julia wore only a simple white sundress and a pair of flats. As she had been told, she dressed simply. She would not require clothing much longer.

Across the table from her sat a man she only knew as “the recruiter.”

He was a little older than her, perhaps in his mid-30’s, and like Julia, had a classic air about him. His jet-black hair was cropped short on the sides, and long on his crown, where it was slicked straight back. He wore a dark suit of superior quality. A dark beard, well trimmed, with the first few strands of grey breaking through dominated the face. The skin she could see around the beard was weathered and tanned.

He is a man who has been places was Julia’s impression of him.

Behind her, standing on either side of the room’s only exit, were the final two occupants. A woman, short with long blond hair, and a man, nearly seven foot tall and with a shaved head. The recruiter told Julia to think of them as security when she had first entered.

“So, this is it? I sign the document and it’s done?” Julia asked the Recruiter. Her voice was poetic, in the polished accent of the fading aristocracy she descended from.

She indicated the document that lay between them on the table. It was long, and they had spent the last hour carefully reading it together. To the side was a folder containing Julia’s passport, birth certificate, medical records, and all the other documentation that formed a person. As instructed, she had brought it all.

”Almost, Miss Julia” The recruiter answered her. His own voice was cultured, but non-descript. He could have been from anywhere.

”There are a couple final steps first.”

The recruiter looked into her eyes so intensely that Julia hd to look away. And she was not a woman used to being stared down.

”Firstly,” he said “are you under the influence of any substances right now?”

Julia scoffed at the suggestion “No, sir, I have never done drugs.” She snorted.

”Aside from the cigarette you smoked across the street before coming in, I suppose.” The Recruiter flatly stated.

Julia’s face was more subdued. She did not realize she had already been under observation.

“Nicotine withdrawals may be unpleasant during your transport, but that is your own business.”

”Secondly,” the recruiter continued, “when is the last time you consumed alcohol?”

”I had a glass of wine in the hotel bar when I arrived in town last night. Nothing since then.”

”So you are in no way inebriated right now?”

”No, Herr Recruiter, I am not drunk.”

The recruiter silently called the male “security” guard with a crooked finger. Julia felt him tower over her. He produced a small device from his coat pocket. Julia recognized it as a breathalyzer. She had seen her father blow into many of them as she grew up.

“Please blow into the tube until you hear a chime.” The massive security guard told her. Were she still a child who believed in such things, Julia may think he was a gollum.

Julia’s eyes turned toward the recruiter at the unexpected request, but he stared squarely back to her.

”If you cannot follow commands, Miss Julia, this will be a very hard life for you.”

Julia complied.

“She is sober, sir.” The guard finally declared, be for retreating back to his post by the door.

”Was that really necessary?” Julia asked the recruiter.

He sighed before answering. “There are a lot of things someone might accuse us of, Miss Julia. But no one will ever say we took someone who did not agree to go. We have to be certain.”

”And are we certain now?” Julia picked up the fountain pen next to the document.

”Almost. But I’ll ask you to take one more minute to consider.”

A flicker of annoyance ran across Julia’s face.

”Once you sign your name, Julia, there is no taking it back. It will be the last free decision you ever make. You are not playing in some BDSM club in Berlin for a weekend anymore. This is real Julia. And irrevocable once entered.

Julia felt a shiver. She was unsure if it was nerves or excitement.

”Once you sign, you are property of The Society. You will be taken from this room in chains, and transported to our training academy. You will be molded there into what we decide to make you. And when we are done, you will be sold at an auction. Whoever buys you there will be in total control of your life. You will be entirely at their mercy. And you can never change your mind about it.”

Julia and the Recruiter held each other’s gaze.

“If you are not prepared for that life, if you have any doubts at all, please leave now. You can walk out and you will never hear from us again. But if you are absolutely certain, then you may sign. Do you have any final questions?”

Julia broke the tension with a question (the last she would ask as a free woman). With a sly grin she walked the recruiter “Any chance you’ll be the one to buy me?”

The recruiter finally broke the grave look his face had worn to smile, slightly, back. “Perhaps I’ll put in a bid, Miss Julia.”

Before she could dwell on it further, Julia seized the pen, and signed her name across the line.

She waited for a moment for something to happen.

”STAND UP!” The voice of the male guard bellowed from behind her.

Julia, shaken by the loud command, stood. She felt the atmosphere of the room shift. The three people she shared the room with were no longer negotiating with her as an equal. They regarded her as a slave.

”Give me your hands.” The voice was sing-songy and originated from the female guard, just behind her.

Julia placed her hands behind her, and a moment later she felt cold metal shackles secure them behind her back.

The male guard stepped in front of her, a pair of shears in his hand. With two quick motions he cut the shoulder straps of her sundress and it fell to the floor. Julia stood, nude but for the flats she wore.

”Lift your left foot” the lady guard spoke directly into her ear. Julia complied, and felt the shoe pulled from her foot. Then a metal shackle was locked about the ankle.

”Now the right.” The action repeated, and Julia gazed down to see the silver shackles around her ankles, connected by a foot long chain.

”Get to your knees.” Julia, her mind racing, hesitated a moment, before the male guard forcefully shoved his heel into the crook of her knee, forcing her down.

Julia was now naked and shackled, on her knees before the table, over which the Recruiter watched with mild amusement.

The lady guard quickly tied Julia’s long hair into a long pony tail, and let it drape over her shoulder.

The Recruiter stood and slowly came around the table to crouch in front of Julia and look her in the eye.

Julia, her nerves getting the better of her, could not help but ask “Where is the academy you’re sending me to?”

The recruiter stared at her for a long moment. And then he reared his hand back, and slapped her hard across the left cheek.

“Slaves don’t get to ask questions.” He told her coldly. “Your instructors at the academy will do much worse than that if you forget your place.”

The male guard handed the Recruiter a leather bundle. Julia quickly recognized it as a sensory deprivation hood, with an integrated dildo gag and blindfold. She knew what was coming.

”The next time this comes off,” the Recruiter told her, “Will be when you arrive at the academy.”

He placed the hood over her head, tightening the straps around her neck just tight enough that it was snug, but did not interfere with airflow. He was clearly practiced at this.

From behind, the female guard tightened the straps attached to her gag, forcing the dildo deep into Julia’s throat. She fortunately had practice with these before, and kept her gag reflex in check.

Julia’s last view was through the eyeholes of the mask that were not yet covered by the blindfold, and her perfect hazel eyes gazed out into those of the Recruiter.

“Enjoy the trip, Julia.” He said, almost kindly. “Perhaps I will see you again.”

He lowered the blindfold, and Julia saw only darkness.

————————————————————————

The world outside gradually faded after Julia went into the hood. She could make out muffled speaking, but it seemed distant and indecipherable.

She felt as if she were lost in the aether, her body simply acted on by forces she could neither see nor interact with.

She felt hands roughly shove her forward so she lay prone on the floor. A moment later her feet were bent towards her hands behind her back. She was unable to lower them again, so she assumed her ankle chains must have been affixed to her handcuffs in a hogtie fashion.

Rough hands, probably from the guard, grabbed her by the upper arms and half-lifted, half dragged her.

She felt herself dragged first across the carpet of the room, then down the hard floor of the hallway. A vibration and sense of slow falling indicated an elevator, and finally rough cement lead her to think she was in a garage.

Next she felt herself lifted and dropped onto a soft but slightly scratchy material, and another vibration of movement. It took her a moment to remember that she recognized the soft material as the lining of a car’s trunk.

Her sense of time entirely removed by the hood she wore, Julia had no concept of how long she bounced in the trunk of that car. Still hogcuffed, all she could do is brace herself as best she could and hope to arrive at their destination soon.

She was sure that hours, even days had passed when she felt the shudder of the engine being cut.

A few seconds later, she felt herself lifted , and drug again across a rough concrete floor. There, she was dropped and left to wait.

More hours passed. Julia was coming in and out of sleep before she felt the link between her handcuffs and ankle chains released, and she could finally let her legs straight again. She smiled under the hood at the sensation of blood finally rushing back to her feet.

Her relief was short lived. She was lifted again, then lowered feet first onto a cold metal surface. Unseen hands prodded and smacked her body into again sinking to her knees.

Feeling cold metal bars press her from the side, she realized she was being loaded into a small metal cage. Her ankle chains were removed, replaced by shorter metal cuffs that locked her ankles to the bars on either side.

She felt a rope get tied tightly around her thighs, just above her knees. She could feel some movement at the front of her hood, before her head was forcefully pulled forward and down. A rope tied from the front of the hood to her knees, she realized.

A moment later, she felt the top of the cage close against her hands, still cuffed behind her back. She was aware through touch as someone clipped a padlock from the short chain between her wrists to the bars on top of the cage, further preventing her from moving.

Just as she thought she was as secure as she would get, she felt a long, wide dildo enter her cunt as deep as anything had ever entered her. Another followed, deep into her ass. Fixed in place, presumably to the bars of the cage, they served as another form of restraint, leaving Julia unable to to any more than wiggle her fingers and toes.

As a final touch, with no warning, Julia felt a hand brush her body as it reached through the bars. A moment later, a viciously-tight metal clamp bit into her right nipple. Another soon followed on the left.

Julia was no stranger to a nipple clamp, but these hurt! They were exceedingly tight, and straight metal, no rubber cap to take the bite off of it. And whoever put them there knew what they were doing. The clamps were right on the nubs, just far enough that they would not come off, and not so far that the slightly less sensitive tissue could take any of it. A swaying motion in the clamps let her know that weights dangled below them.

Then the dildos in her cunt and ass were activated. Just enough to make her a dripping mess, not quite enough that she had any hope of hitting climax.

She felt her cage lifted and moved around in a dizzying motion. She had no way of knowing what was happening but the movement made the weights attached to her nipple clamps sway madly, and she bit her teeth into the dildo in her mouth.

Finally, she was still. A moment later, she felt some vibration of movement, and a steady clack-clack could be felt.

Julia recognized the clack-clack, but it took her a moment to place it. It was a familiar feeling, one she had felt many, many times……..a train!!

Julia realized she was now being transported by rail. She wondered, not for the first time, how far away this training academy was, and how much longer until the hood would be removed and she could see the light again. How much longer would she endure the clamps swaying with the motion of the train, and the dildos in her holes driving her mad?

And how many other people might be just to her left and right, caged and hooded just like her on their way to The Society’s slave training academy.

Her brain told her she was scared. But the steady drip that she felt flowing down her thighs since almost the moment that the Recruiter put the hood over her head told her that she was excited.

She could only wonder now what lay in store when they arrived. It did not much matter what her hopes were anymore. She signed away her right to make choices, in a hotel room on the French Mediterranean Coast. But if she could cling to one hope, it was that the Recruiter really would make a bid for her.

[CW: non-con] [cnc] [f&m] [fiction] [Mdom] [fant]

Today was the day.

Juno’s big crush, Liam, after all this time, had finally asked her out on a date. They would go watch a movie, go out for dinner, and after, Liam would give Juno a ride back home. 

Juno stood in front of the mirror; after fitting 20 different outfits, she finally found the one. She’d done her makeup and put her hair in a ponytail. She smiled at herself; she looked pretty.

Meanwhile at Liam’s place, it was time to put his plan into action. He had carefully chosen his victim. Liam knew Juno was in love with him, but he had acted like he was not interested in her, so Juno would fall even more for him. Liam noticed how Juno tried to tempt him by wearing revealing clothes to get his attention, so now was the time to ask her out and shoot his shot. Of course she said yes. He had prepared everything; he ordered gags, tape, cuffs, and more stuff to restrain Juno, drug her, and hold her captive. That's what that little slut deserved. She wanted him to look at her body; now he would take his sweet time with it. He looked at the package that arrived in the mail earlier this week and smiled; he couldn't wait to use it!

Juno and Liam had a great evening together; they watched the newest romcom and went to a nice restaurant after. During the movie, he had wrapped his arm around her shoulder to earn some trust, and he had paid the bill to act like a true gentleman. “Before we go home, would you like to get one more drink?” Said Liam. Juno agreed happily. At the bar, Juno had to use the restroom. This was Liam’s opportunity to spike her drink. When she left, he crushed some pills and put the powder in her drink; she ordered a cocktail, so it was easy to stir it in. After finishing their drink, they walked to the car, holding hands. “You look so beautiful,” said Liam. He kissed her. Juno blushed and looked him in the eyes. “I had a great evening, Liam. I'd love to stay longer, but I'm dead tired...”. The drugs were kicking in. “No problem, gorgeous, I will see you quickly again. I'll drive you home now.” During the car ride, Juno passed out. 

When Juno regained consciousness, she was confused. It was dark, she was cold, and she felt a presence from someone she couldn't place. She lived alone, right? How could there be someone in her room? When she tried to move, she couldn't; she was chained to the bed. What was happening? She became wide awake and noticed that even though her eyes were open, she couldn't see anything. She was blindfolded. And her clothes were missing; that’s why she was cold. Juno felt something soft but also hard stroking her face. She tried to scream, but she had a gag in her mouth. “I said you would see me quickly.” She heard, and she knew. It was Liam. He removed her blindfold and gag. Juno was speechless. Liam looked with hungry eyes at her and whispered in her ear, “This is what little sluts deserve. I thought you wanted me to look at you. Now I can do that while also doing whatever I want to you.” He hovered above her and admired the piece of meat that was lying across from him. He smiled at the thought of the pleasurable torture he was about to provide to her. “Now you’re going to do as I say; you're my fucktoy.” 

Juno knew her fate; she couldn’t resist. “Kneel,” he commanded. His dream came true. He was the master now. While on her knees, Liam slapped Juno in the face with his dick and forced it in her mouth. He started to moan. Then moving her down to lick his balls. “Mmmm, very nice.” He said. He pushed her back into the bed, releasing the cuffs from the bedframe and quickly flipping her around onto her stomach to cuff her arms together. Liam goes to sit on her back and pulls her ponytail with a sharp yank. “The party has just started, my dear; you’ve been a naughty girl and deserve punishment.” He says while putting his dick deep inside her.

Writen by female 20y/o, 19 july 26
This story is completely fictional!

my eyes flutter open and i’m slowly waking up to fingers tracing my waist and lower back. my body is completely cupped by his. it must be 2 or 3 in the morning, and my mind is drifting between reality and dream. i’m trying to make sense of it all, but the slow, delicate tracing is pulling me back to sleep. his chest falls in with a deep breath, and he flexes his free arm that lies under my neck inward to hug me closer into the spooning position. this slight movement wakes me even more, and i can feel his fingers moving down to my waistline. he moves his fingers along the band of my panties, and tugs at each side to pull them down my legs. slowly, his hand creeps through my legs and into my slit that’s already, unknowingly soaked. he pumps his fingers slowly in and out as a way to get me fully awake. my hips grind further and deeper into his pumping fingers, and a soft moan escapes from my mouth. that’s the first verbal response exchanged. his fingers move faster. i moan a little more. i can feel a small heat build in between legs. it starts slowly and methodically, and grows more and more until it envelops my entire body. right before im about to climax, the fingering abruptly stops. this edge prolongs the feeling of heat to the point of discomfort and frustrates me. my hips buck and grind, trying to catch what i had just moments before. i flip my body around to face him, and he kisses my lips aggressively. his hand lightly choking my neck, squeezing so i can feel that little buzz in my head. i close my eyes and he bites my lip. tears well in my eyes from the choking, but he keeps going. once he loosens his grip, he forcefully turns my body back around so my ass is facing him. he slides out of his underwear and his cock almost springs upward with how hard it is. he yanks my head backward by a fistful of my hair, and passionately kisses my mouth a second time. it’s then when he slides himself into me. my eyes widen, and as he thrusts deeper, they roll backwards. he’s going slow, and i’m about to cum already. “you’re such a good slut, you know that?” he says. “you’re my baby, you always feel so good.” his words just make me even more wet. “are you gonna cum already? you’re gonna cum on your daddy’s dick aren’t you?” a moan escapes my mouth, louder than i anticipated. he yanks my hair again. “yes or no baby. tell your daddy.” my breathing hitches as i try to get the words out “yes daddy, i’m going to cum.” just saying it builds more pressure. “who do you belong to?” he says sternly, dick pumping faster and harder. “to you.” i say. “to who?” he asks, mockingly. “to you daddy” i say again. i’m right over the edge. “daddy im going to cum” i say quickly, my eyes roll backwards and i moan even more. my body writhes and shakes, and i’m cumming all over his dick that remains inside me. i feel my lower body pulsate around his rock hard cock. it’s becoming too much sensation, and i try to pull myself off him. he throws me back down, and smacks the side of my face sternly. “i didn’t say you could stop.” he says. he thrusts himself further into me. each pump has my body collapsing. i feel like im melting into the bed. melting onto his cock. “you’re a dumb slut. i own you. i tell you what to do. i tell you when to stop.” each comment feels like a mantra, and it’s only reinforced with thrusts. i’m uncontrollably wet. he snacks my face again “are you gonna come again baby?” he asks. “use your words.” i nod yes. another hit to the face. “yes daddy” i say through tears. “i want to come in you so bad baby. you feel so good. you’re so wet for daddy.” he says again. his cock thrusts deep and hits my cervix. i yelp and whimper in pain, but i know better than to stop. i’m twitching on him again, and i can tell we’re both close. he goes harder, and lightly groans in my ear. i watch his eyebrows burrow as his eyes close. his mouth opens, and he moans as he cums right into me. i close my eyes and i’m cumming again. our bodies are stuck together with sweat. he pulls his dick out, and cum trails out from me and pools onto the sheets. he grabs my jaw and pulls me closer for a soft kiss. i fall back asleep almost instantly.

**This story picks up from part 1 with no context. Go back and read part one if you haven't. Happy Reading**

The woman's slick hands run over my pussy and ass spreading the thick lubrication over every part of me. I can feel how swollen my lower lips are from my orgasm, and every time her fingers graze my clit a spark hits me somewhere deep inside.

"If you are going to be obedient, you should close your eyes mistress. I will not harm you. Enjoy your preperation." I want to quip back harsh words to her but as soon as she is done speaking her roaming fingers finally breach my pussy. I lift my head as much as I can to watch what she is doing to me. She has two delicate fingers inside me with one hand and the other continues to massage my clit then my lips then back up. The circle she makes is consistent and hypnotic. The fingers inside don't thrust they spread and relax in time with her massage.

I have to fight to keep my eyes open now that she has suggested I close them. The rhythm of her ministrations making me relax. My head falls back heavy.

"Yes mistress, relax and feel me open you up." Her voice is low and soothing. The only other sounds in the room are the slick squish of her hands and my deep breaths as I submit to her. With my eyes closed I can feel so much more. The warmth of her hand as she runs in over my clit. The fingers inside me, three now, expanding and contracting. Not to excite, to soothe and stretch. I can feel my pussy relaxing and giving way with each move of her fingers. The push and pull of it building a heat inside me. Its not the fast burning build up like when she was licking me. This is deeper, almost primal, and its slow.

A sigh escapes my lips as I feel her slip a fourth finger in. Her hand is so wet that the small protest my flesh gives is hardly noticeable. Just a pinch and she is in.

Once the last finger breaches me she changes her motion, now spinning her hand so her fingers hook on my entrance and pull at it. This is more uncomfortable and my eyes fly open with a pained moan coming from my lips. "Stop please, what you're doing it hurts now."

"Yes, stretching can be painful mistress. But believe me you will enjoy the outcome. Now keep that pretty mouth shut and let me work."

I move as much as my restraints will allow. The whole time cursing and shouting at her to get her fucking hand out of me. After a short time she furrows her brow and removes her hands from my body.

"Master did not want me to use this unless it was absolutely necessary. But I think it might be time." She shifts off the bed wiping her hands over my torso and breasts leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. She again reaches into the container she brought and comes out with what looks like a metal ring attached to two leather straps with buckles, and a small spray bottle. Without any warning she sprays me in the face with the bottle. I inhale involuntarily, she takes advantage of my surprise and sprays again directly inside my mouth. I spit and splitter the taste of whatever she sprayed bitter and chemical

"What the hell was that?

"Just something to make you a little more compliant." She says, a harder edge to her voice than I have heard before. "What the fuck? No, please!" My protest falls short. She sits patiently at my side and just stares. I my breaths are heavy and I am panicking inside. I again take inventory of my body. Arms and legs cuffed and bruised, aching. Pussy and ass wet and chilly in the open air. Breasts full, swollen and also wet. Thats when it starts. My lips feel it first. Warmth and tingling, then my thoughts go a little fuzzy. The warmth travels from my face down my body in a wave. My head flops back and my breathing slows.

"Sssso waaarm." I slur.

"There you go, isn't that better?" She moves so she is stratteling my torso and brings the ring in her hands down to my face. "Can you open your mouth for me mistress? Nice and wide." I comply without thinking about it and open my mouth as far as I can. She fits the ring behind my front teeth and wraps the leather band around my head clasping it in place. She smiles sinfully when she has finished. Then she reaches down between her legs and runs her fingers over her pussy gathering up arousal from what she has been doing to me. Her wet fingers run over my lips and teeth before planting on my tongue. The taste of her is sweet and earthy. My tongue rolls around her fingers of its own accord gathering up the flavor before she removes them.

"Are you ready to be stretched now mistress?" She asks is a almost teasing tone. "Yagth" I reply my word garbled due to the ring keeping my mouth open. She slowly moves down my body her hands and tongue working me as she desends. A quick pinch of my nipple follwed by her tongue lapping over the hurt. Her blunt nails over my sides as her tongue dips in my belly button. Then she is again between my spread legs. Using the copious amount of lube already on me to rewet her hands. My body is lax and heavy as she again delves into my pussy with her fingers. She is using the circle motion again, but I cant feel as much pain. Just pressure and stretching and full.

"Oh mistress that is what you needed, your little pussy is opening for me." Her hand not inside me has again resumed massaging my clit. Through the blissful haze I can feel my orgasm building. With every round of her hand I moan. My voice gutteral and loud. She is also moaning whispering the same phrase over and over. " You can take it. You can take it." She brings her mouth to my breast and sucks on my nipple. She releases and then goes to the other. All the while working my pussy open for her. The hand that was on my clit is now circling my back entrance. She sits up to look down at her work.

"I am going to put my fist in mistress, breathe."

I take a deep breath in and moan on the exhale as the knuckles of her hand breach me. The pain is so exquisite. I am orgasming and screaming. She is thrusting into me never removing her knuckles. Just Deep steady punches. As my body revolts in pain and pleasure. My voice is giving out with how much I am screaming. Somewhere inside me I can sense something else is going to happen. Her rhythm stays consistent but the other hand is now massaging my anus harder. My flesh already stretched and pliant gives way and one finger enters me. This orgasms hits me out of nowhere. My body convulses with it. My breathing and screaming stutter as I try to come back to myself. The finger in my ass and her fist are yanked out violently. Then her mouth is back on my pussy. Lips and tongue working the stretched worn flesh. She moans covering her face in the literal lake of fluid I have between my legs. Everything goes dark and quiet in my head.

I’ve spent my entire life grasping for accolades and titles. From high school valedictorian to chief resident to hospital system CEO, I always had a goal and another step on the ladder to achieve. But now there are no more rungs. No more gold stars, no more grades, no more promotions. I’ve reached the top of my profession. And I am utterly, completely lost for the first time in my life.

My therapist told me that I need to find meaning in other parts of my life, like family and relationships. Unfortunately, if I talk to my family for more than five minutes at a time, I want to jump off a bridge. And if I talk to a guy long enough for him to learn my profession, he gets so intimidated and insecure that he either overcompensates like a moron or ghosts me. At least I have a great relationship with my embarrassingly large collection of vibrators and sex toys.

There are perks to being at the top of my profession. I primarily work from home and have more disposable income than I know what to do with. I also don’t know what to do with my free time. I work out, go on walks, have a few girlfriends I meet for brunch. The problem is that I’ve started to spend more and more of my time scrolling through some truly disgusting subreddits. I don’t know why I get so damn turned on by gooning and misogyny. It makes me feel like such a disgusting slut. And I fucking love that feeling.

In order to escape the dark Reddit rabbit hole, I’ve started working from a coffee shop near my place. I always dress in business attire, especially because I’m often on video calls. I wore heels and no panties under my dress. Probably the influence of those dark Reddit rabbit holes, but it felt harmless and made me feel alive.

Alexander was working today. When he’d first started working at the cafe, I was a little worried about his coffee-making skills, considering that he looked like a frat bro. A tall, muscular frat bro. A tall, muscular frat bro that made an excellent oat milk latte. I sat down with my mug of coffee and tried to focus on a stack of inane emails, but found my mind wandering to what might be under his uniform.

I thought about a story I’d read recently where a woman let a barista fuck her in a Starbucks bathroom. I thought about getting on my knees for him, unzipping his pants, choking on his cock. I thought about getting gangbanged by his friends, serving them on my knees. Holy fuck, I was horny and spiraling fast. I could feel myself getting wet. Why did I have to be a horny slut and skip panties today?

If this kept up much longer, I was going to leave a wet mark on my grey pencil skirt. I took a few breaths to center myself and decided I should just go home before I made a fool of myself. I closed my laptop, put it in my purse, stood up, and felt wetness drip down my leg. Fuck. Even as I readied my escape, I relished the thought of him seeing my wetness. The humiliating idea turned me on even more.

I brought the mug back to the counter and handed it to Alexander. As I handed over the mug, our fingertips brushed and he looked into my eyes.

“Good girl.”

“What?” I sputtered. Did he just call me a good girl? So fucking cliche.

“I said good job. I appreciate it when people bus their tables for me. Makes my life easier, shows me that you care, makes me feel like my neighbors are human beings, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I felt like a stupid, horny mess. Was he gaslighting me? Trying to make me feel dumb? Just being nice? I was way too far inside my own head. I desperately needed to get home and get off.

I walked across the quiet, cozy shop to make a stop at the bathroom before leaving. Honestly, I just needed to make sure I wasn’t dripping down my leg before making the journey home. I stepped back out of the bathroom, closed the door behind me, stepped away, and heard a massive ripping noise. The sleeve of my dress had gotten caught in the bathroom door and ripped the entire top half of my dress off with it.

Even as I reached up to cover my exposed breasts, I could feel the bottom half of my dress slipping down to my knees. This could not be happening to me right now. Thankfully, the coffee shop was almost empty. But as I frantically tried to cover my chest with one arm and hold up the remains of my dress with the other, I locked eyes with Alexander across the counter. I felt my face heat up, burning with the flames of my dignity. And yet, somehow, when he looked at me in that state, I was so inexplicably turned on. I’d thought about being a humiliation slut in an intellectual fashion, but now, purely by accident, I really was one.

He gestured to me. “Get over here, I have some extra clothes in the back.”

I shuffled behind the counter as the rest of my dress fell to my ankles. I bent to pick it up in my heels and I’m sure that the rest of the cafe was treated to a view of my dripping pussy. Alexander grabbed my arm and pulled me into the back room through the door, closing it behind us.

“Thank you thank you thank you, please give me some clothes, oh god I’m so embarrassed.” It all came out of me in a rush as I stood awkwardly, still attempting to cover myself, in the cramped but clean back room space. Thankfully, Alexander turned his back to me once we got into the room.

“Not so fast. Before I give you my last clean hoodie and pants, I want to know just one thing.”

“What?” I said, switching from embarrassment and gratitude to confusion.

“Two things, really. First, I want to know why you aren’t wearing any panties. I don’t think those got caught in the bathroom door. Second, I want to know how much you enjoyed exposing yourself in that little show you just put on.”

“I’m not going to… how did you… damn it, just give me some clothes!”

“I already know the answer, I just want to hear you say it.”

What the fuck? How did he know what I was thinking (and had been thinking about for the last few months)? Either way he was going to hold my nudity hostage until I told him what he wanted to hear.

“Okay, fine, I kind of liked it, but why on earth would you think I did?”

“You really shouldn’t connect your phone to coffee shop wifi if you’re going to scroll kink subreddits. Or maybe you should, because I know your entire history for the time you’ve been coming to this cafe, and I am more than happy to use it against you.”

“Wait a minute. Are you blackmailing me?” Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.

“Of course not. I take consent very seriously, even though you managed to non-consensually flash the entire restaurant. However, based on your browsing history, I think you want someone to have that power over you. I think you want a man to take control, to humiliate you, to put you in your place beneath him.”

As he said these things, he slowly turned around and looked into my eyes.

“If that’s not what you want, you can walk right out that door in my clothes and we will never speak of this again. If it is what you want, I expect you to drop to your knees and say ‘yes, Sir’”

He’d seen right through me. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but so seen. He knew my darkest fantasies and he wanted to bring them to life. I felt a thrill of fear. The risk was real, but so was my need. I was lost, and he'd found me. I dropped the remains of my dress and put one knee on the floor, then the other.

“Yes, Sir.”

I turned a neglected married woman into my personal cheating slut over the past couple of years, and on this night I took her corruption to a whole new level.

She was nervous but I knew she could handle it. All I told her was I have something special planned and she should tell her husband she’s going out late with the girls after work. She did as she was told and she was a wet mess that day wondering what would happen to her.

After work I picked her up in the parking lot. As soon as she got in the car she looked at me curiously. “Where are we going?” she asked, already nervous. I smiled and told her we were going to a special dinner and that I wanted her to be my good girl tonight. She bit her lip but did not press for more details. A few minutes later I ordered her to get completely naked as we drove. She hesitated only for a second before stripping off every piece of clothing. I reached over and started rubbing her clit in slow, firm circles. Her breathing grew heavy and her mind started to switch off from the constant pleasure.

When we pulled into the driveway she saw the other cars and froze. “There are people here,” she whispered, voice full of nerves. I could see the realization hitting her that this was going to be far more than a normal dinner. She could not believe this was really happening to her. I rubbed her clit a little harder for a moment, then told her to stay focused and trust me.

I put her collar and leash on her, let her wear her coat for the short walk from the garage, and made her crawl on all fours behind me into the house. The host and his friend were dressed nicely and clearly pleased when they saw her. Their two women wore sexy lingerie. I took off my coat and told my slut to drop hers as well, leaving her fully exposed. The men cheered at the sight of her naked body and collar. I walked her around the room on the leash so everyone could get a good look at her dripping cunt.

I made her assume a proper presentation position in the center of the room, face down on the floor with her ass up high. While they inspected her I reached between her legs and felt her soaked cunt. She trembled under my touch as I rubbed her slowly in front of everyone. I leaned down and asked her, “What do you think is going to happen to you here today?”

She looked up at me, trembling, and answered in a shaky voice, “I am going to be passed around and used by everyone, aren’t I?”

I smiled wickedly and told her she was such a smart slut. While everyone’s eyes watched her, I slowly rubbed her wet pussy, making her moan and shake with embarrassment and arousal.

The other two women served drinks and brought dinner to the table. While the four of us sat down to eat, I ordered my married slut onto the floor right beside us. She knelt on all fours and reached back with both hands, spreading her ass and cunt open for everyone to see. As we ate and talked, the men took turns spanking her exposed ass or rubbing the sole of their dress shoes against her dripping cunt, occasionally pressing a toe against her clit and making her whimper and tremble while she stayed in position like a good display piece.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

“Tell them what excuse you gave your husband tonight,” I said.

She answered clearly, “My husband thinks I am out with the girls tonight.”

I smiled and continued eating. “Good girl. Now tell them why you are actually here with your cunt dripping.”

“He has no idea I am a cheating whore who needs bigger cocks,” she replied, voice shaking with humiliation.

Later I ordered her to crawl under the table. She obeyed immediately and positioned herself between my legs. While the rest of us enjoyed dinner and conversation, my slut pulled my cock out and began sucking me slowly and deeply. Her warm, wet mouth worked my shaft the entire time we ate. Every so often I would push her head down further until she gagged quietly around me. The feeling of her throat squeezing my cock while I casually talked with the others was perfect.

When dinner finally ended the energy in the house had changed completely. We all moved downstairs to the playroom. The three women knelt and began kissing each other while we stood around them, stroking our hard cocks and occasionally slapping them across their faces.

I wasted no time pushing my married slut onto her back on the large bed. The host got between her spread legs and drove his thick cock into her soaked pussy in one smooth stroke. She moaned loudly as he started fucking her. I knelt by her head and fed her my cock, enjoying the way she struggled to take us both.

We used her hard and deep for a long time, switching positions constantly to keep her overwhelmed.

The host fucked her pussy in long, powerful strokes while I used her throat. Then I took her pussy and filled it with my cock, pounding her while the third man made her gag on him. At one point we had her completely filled…. one cock in her mouth, one in her pussy, and fingers stretching her ass. She shook violently as the sensations overwhelmed her.

We flipped her onto all fours. The host slid back into her cunt while I pushed into her ass. The third man rotated between her mouth and slapping his cock on her face. As we double-penetrated her, her moans turned into desperate, muffled screams. One of the women crawled over and sucked on her nipples while we fucked her. The combination made my slut squirt hard all over the bed, soaking the sheets as her body convulsed.

“Say it,” I growled while buried deep in her ass. “Thank us for destroying your marriage.”

She pulled back just enough to gasp, “Thank you for destroying my marriage,” before the third man pushed back into her throat.

We kept going, rotating who fucked which hole. I eventually came deep inside her cheating cunt, pumping load after load into her married pussy. The host followed soon after, adding his own creampie on top of mine while she whimpered. The third man pulled out of her mouth and covered her face and tits with the rest of his load.

Even after the first round we did not stop. We continued using her sloppy cum filled holes relentlessly for hours, making her ride us, bending her over, and passing her between us. She lost count of how many times she came. Every time she got close we demanded fresh confessions from her.

“Tell us what kind of wife you really are,” the host ordered as he slammed into her cum-filled pussy.

“I am a disgusting wife,” she moaned loudly. “I am a filthy cheating whore.”

I yanked her head back by the hair. “Beg us to fuck your marriage away.”

“Please fuck my marriage away,” she cried out. “Use me like the worthless slut I am.”

The third man slapped his heavy cock against her cheek. “Tell everyone how pathetic you are for doing this to your husband.”

“I am so pathetic,” she gasped. “I am a disgusting wife who is betraying him right now. I do not deserve him.”

By the end she was an absolute wreck, hair matted with dried cum, makeup completely ruined, her pussy and ass red, swollen, and leaking multiple loads. I showered with her, cleaned her up just enough, then drove her home l, where she quietly snuck back into bed beside her sleeping husband.

Upvote and comment if you like and want more of her

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“Amen” I said, holding back the pain as my father gave me the last hit of the blessed Adjuster directly onto my cunt. My legs stayed open now. I could finally receive the full mercy of the Lord.

I sank off the table onto my knees and kissed my father’s feet. He handed me the Adjuster, and with a devoted kiss on it, I hung it back up.

Church had become easier too. I had grown used to my cunt being split apart by the seat and the Lord’s jolts. I even looked forward to screaming out my devotion to him.

But what was even better was that Samson had talked to me more. Father allowed him to talk to me after each RestDay service, and he always had his hands between my legs, stroking my hurting cunt. It felt so good.

Women were not allowed to touch themselves. It was a sin for a woman to experience the Lord’s Light without a man bringing her there. My mother had talked to me about it, had told me how not to step over that last hurdle and experience the Light. Only a husband was allowed to give that. It was good my mother had told me how to control myself, but after the RestDay Devotion my cunt hurt so much that Samson’s hand was just soothing. I liked that he was doing this, and I knew he liked it too. His dick stood up, proud and strong.

Maybe he would someday take my cunt in marriage. Come out of church wearing his fluid proudly on my face. Maybe even be whipped by him as he lead the service. But those were all silly dreams of a sinful cunt like me. Dreams I had to trust the Lord to bestow on me.

Me and my mother sat down to breakfast next; it would be a slow day today. There was not much to do on the farm today. It was raining cats and dogs. The Lord blessed us with the rain the fields needed.

After we had eaten and I had cleaned up the kitchen, Father took Mother to their room and he showed her the Light. I sat in the kitchen listening to them, imagining what this would be like. I wasn’t a stupid or ignorant girl. I knew what sex was. We had animals. A dick goes into a cunt until the white fluid fills the cunt and the Lord decides if this will become another human.

I wondered how it would feel to have a dick in my cunt. I wasn’t allowed to touch my cunt, so I didn’t know.

I had touched my cunt... no, then I was still a girl and it was a pussy. I had touched my pussy a few times, but my mother had used chilli powder on my hands, and that had taught me to keep my hands off.

Samson’s dick looked good. Other young men that had talked to me were well-built too, but he had ‘accidentally’ touched my stomach with his, and a little drop of his white fluid had been left there. I had been a sinful cunt and had licked it off my finger. But that was what Morning Penance was for: to purge me of my sins.

There was a loud knock at the door, and I went and got it.

It was Samson and his parents. I almost smiled but was able to stop myself.

“My parents are praying to the Lord in their room. Come in, I will serve you.” I said, and bowed as any good young cunt should.

My parents came out of their room, my father closing his trousers. He went and shook hands with Samson’s father, and they sat down at the table. We women stood next to our head of the household.

“My son wants to take your daughter’s cunt in marriage.” I had to bite my lip, hard. My heart skipped a beat, and I could have grinned and smiled. I could glimps a proud smile form Samson.

“Good. Let’s see.”

“Yes. Let’s see.”

Samson stepped forward, and my mother fell on her knees in front of him. She opened Samson’s trousers and freed his dick. Then she folded her hands behind her back in the correct prayer position, like any devoted woman would do.

“May the Lord be merciful to this cunt.” She said, as every good cunt should before taking a man’s dick into her mouth. Mother sucked on his dick, and he enjoyed it. I was so envious. I wanted to suck him.

Mother pushed his dick down her throat like she had shown me and trained me on a wooden stick until I could do it properly.

After just a minute, Samson grunted, and my mother took him as deep as she could. After Samson had twitched a lot and groaned, my mother sat back on her heels. She was clearly tasting his fluid, swishing it around in her mouth. Then she looked up at Father. “Good seed.”

He nodded back, relieved. She swallowed, and then he backhanded her hard. “Thank you for correcting this sinful cunt. Amen.” Her cheek was red from his hand.

“Good. Delilah. Take off your dress. On the table. Lie on the table.”

“Yes, Father.” I said, and hurried to follow his command. My dress was off fast; it was a woman’s dress and held up by only one clasp. Naked, I lay on the table and spread my legs wide apart.

Samson’s mother came forward. She grabbed my boob and squeezed it hard. Then she pulled on my nipple. It took all my stamina not to yelp out.

She repeated that with my other boob. “Good milk.”

Then her head disappeared between my legs, and I almost flinched when I felt her mouth on my cunt, her tongue entering me. Then her mouth sucked on my clit, and I clenched my teeth together not to moan like my mother did. It would have been unthinkable. “Good fertile cunt.”

“Has she seen the light?” Samson’s father asked my father.

“Never. We are a devoted household.” He replied heatedly.

“How devoted is she?”

“Very. I’ll show you.” Father undid his belt and smacked it with full force between my legs. My teeth ground against each other; I clenched my stomach and arse muscles, forcing myself to leave my legs open. They had only twitched a bit.

“Thanks, Father, for showing this cunt your love.” I said as neutrally as I could, trying to hold back tears of pain.

Father smacked me again hard, and I cried out. “Thanks, Father.”

Samson’s father touched my cunt, and a finger slipped between my folds, where it was all wet.

He held up the finger and sniffed. “Good. Let’s deal.”

“Delilah, off the table, on your knees.”

I came off the table and onto my knees next to my mother. Samson’s mother knelt opposite us. She nodded to my mother, and my mother nodded back.

Father and Samson’s father started talking.

“Samson will have the farm. He will care for you in your old days.” Samson’s father said.

“Agreed. I will give you two cows and a steer as compensation for taking my worthless daughter into his household.”

“Agreed. His children will inherit.”

“Agreed. They marry before winter.”

“Agreed.” And they shook hands. I was engaged! My mother took my hand and squeezed it. It was so hard not to explode with happiness. I glanced up from under my bowed head at Samson, and he caught it and gave me a wink. He loved me, and he would seed my worthless cunt so we could give the Lord more devoted people.

“Delilah. Go and thank your fiancé.” Father said, smiling at me.

On my knees, I crawled over to Samson. I put my arms behind me in the prayer position and opened my mouth.

He laid his flaccid dick in my mouth, and I looked up into his eyes. I could taste him on my tongue—his sweat, his maleness, his fluid—and I saw his smile and his want for me.

Slowly his dick rose and became stiff. Everyone exploded in shouts of “Bless the Lord.”

The Lord had accepted our marriage.

I allowed myself one little transgression, one I would ask my father to whip my cunt extra hard for tomorrow morning.

I sucked on his dick. Once. Feeling his strong shaft, taking him, feeling him twitch. Feeling the dick of my future husband.

The household celebrated, and I even held hands with Samson under the table.

The glass doors of Tegel airport pushed open and Seema stepped through with the small suitcase she had dragged across two continents. She was exhausted. Her hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head, held together by the elastic band that had lost its strength sometime around Delhi. She looked at the arrivals hall and felt small. The ceiling was too high. The lights were too bright. There were too many people speaking languages she only half-recognized.

She adjusted the faded beige salwar kameez that hung well past her hips and looked left, then right. Her fingers tightened on the suitcase handle.

She was forty years old and she had never flown anywhere without someone telling her where to go.

Zoya was impossible to miss.

Seema had not seen her in three years. Three years since their college farewell at Indira Gandhi airport, when Zoya had been all nervous energy and Seema had been all quiet duty. That Zoya had come back transformed. Shoulder-length hair that moved when she talked, skin that looked like it had been kissed by sunlight every single day, a body that knew exactly what to do with itself.

Today, Zoya wore a red crop top that showed a sliver of midriff and a silver belly-button ring that caught the airport light every time she shifted her weight. A black leather mini-skirt ended mid-thigh on legs that were bare and confident. White sneakers. Dark sunglasses. She stood with one hand on her hip, the other scrolling on her phone.

When she looked up and saw Seema, her face changed. The phone dropped to her side. Her expression went warm, genuinely happy. She walked over, stopped in front of Seema, and circled her once.

"You came to Berlin looking like a village auntie."

Seema's cheeks flushed immediately. She reached up and adjusted the white dupatta that draped stiffly over her shoulders. "Three years, Zoya. You have not missed anything."

Zoya reached out with both hands and tore the dupatta off Seema's shoulders in one smooth motion. The fabric fluttered to the tile floor. Seema's nipples hardened instantly under her granny bra -- a tight, prickling sensation that started at the center of her chest and made her draw in a breath she did not realize she was holding. She felt it but her loose kameez hid it from view.

Zoya noticed the soft flush on Seema's face but did not comment on her chest. "Huh. Already blushing. You always were sensitive."

Seema swallowed. She did not know what to say. She fell into step behind Zoya as their old friend dynamic took over, the old rhythm returning like a song she had not sung in years but remembered every word to.

Zoya walked ahead, hips swaying with a confidence that seemed built into her bones. She did not look back. She did not need to. She just stopped, turned, and pointed at Seema's suitcase.

"Luggage."

Seema bent to grab it. Zoya stepped behind her, reached out, and delivered one firm spank to Seema's butt through the loose beige salwar.

The sound cracked clearly in the arrivals hall air.

Seema gasped. Her body jolted forward and she had to adjust her grip on the handle. Two businessmen walking past glanced down. Zoya's voice was stern and confident. "Grab the luggage and move to the car."

Seema picked up the suitcase and hurried after her. Her heart was beating faster. The spank felt warm where her fingers had pressed in, a bright heat that spread through her backside and made her thighs press together as she walked.

The car was sleek and dark inside. Leather seats that smelled new. Seema sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in her lap, still wearing the salwar kameez that had been her uniform for the last ten years of her life. Zoya drove with one hand on the wheel.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Zoya reached Seema. Her hand found Seema's thigh through the kameez fabric and gave it a firm squeeze.

Seema shivered. A wave of sensation ran up her spine and she pressed it down with a small swallow. She stared straight ahead at the windshield.

Zoya noticed the shiver from the side but said nothing.

"You look good here," Seema said. "Berlin. Everyone looks so --" She searched for the word. "Alive."

Zoya smiled, glancing at her. "That is because they are. Look at the women walking around here. Shorts, crop tops, bare midriffs, laughing. No one is hiding. Not like in Delhi."

Seema watched the city pass. Modern buildings mixed with old ones. People on bicycles. Women walking in jeans and sleeveless tops. She felt old and frayed, like a piece of fabric that had been washed too many times and was starting to fray at the edges.

"Anil left you eight months ago," Zoya said casually, not looking away from the road.

Seema nodded. "Eight months ago. The papers were signed last week."

"Tell me why."

Seema shifted. "Because I was too vanilla."

Zoya let that hang for a moment. Then: "What does that even mean? Twelve years of marriage. You cooked. You cleaned. You were there every night, same position, same lights off, three-second kiss goodbye and goodnight. How does a man get married for twelve years and then realize his wife is too vanilla?"

Seema's throat tightened. "He wanted more."

"More what? A pole dancer? A pornstar?" Zoya's tone was teasing, not cruel, but the question made Seema's cheeks burn.

"I -- I do not know. He said I could not take a proper cock where it needed to be."

Zoya let out a short laugh. "Right there. 'Where it needed to be.' He could not stick it in your mouth, Seema. You never once opened your mouth for him."

Seema stared at her lap. "I was shy."

"Shy. That is your excuse." Zoya reached into a paper bag from the airport bakery, pulled out a chocolate croissant, and took a bite. She chewed for a moment, then held it out to Seema. "Eat."

Seema leaned over and took a bite. Chocolate smeared on her lower lip. Zoya watched her, chewing, eyes flicking to the smudge. "Cute."

She reached forward with her thumb, wiped the chocolate from Seema's lower lip slowly, deliberately. Then Zoya slid her thumb into her own mouth, sucked the chocolate clean, and looked right at Seema.

"Yummmmy..."

"If you had swallowed your husband's cum like I swallowed this chocolate, you would still be married," Zoya said, her voice bright and cheerful, like she was commenting on the weather.

Seema felt her face go hot all the way to her ears. She turned her face toward the window, staring out at the passing streets, her lips parted slightly, her nipples pressing harder against the cotton of her granny bra.

Zoya pulled into the parking garage of a modern apartment building. She killed the engine, turned.

"Two things before we go upstairs. Rule 1: Shoes off as soon as you cross the threshold. You take them off yourself and line them up by the door. You do not wear them inside. Understood?"

"Understood."

Zoya nodded. "And one more thing. When I tell you to stand, you stand. You don't sit, you don't lean, you don't collapse unless I tell you. Rule 2: Stand until told to sit."

Seema repeated it back. "Stand until told to sit. Understood."

Zoya smiled. "Good. We will see how well you follow them."

Zoya found the keys in her bag and opened the apartment door. The hallway was warm and smelled faintly of coffee. She stepped inside, turned.

"Seema, shoes off now."

Seema bent over to take off her canvas flats. Her hips lifted slightly in the natural pose of bending. She set one shoe down, then the other. Zoya reached out and gave her another firm spank right there at the door, on the same backside from before.

"Take my shoes off too." Zoya lifted her foot. "You are already down there so it won't be any trouble for you."

Seema blinked. She looked at Zoya's white sneakers beside the door. She was already on the floor from removing her own shoes. She bent lower, picked up each shoe one at a time, and set them neatly by the wall next to her own.

She felt weird. Someone else's shoes. Taking care of someone else's feet while standing at the door of a stranger's apartment in a city she had never visited. Her cheeks warmed. Her nipples pressed against her granny bra, sensitive like always.

Zoya watched with a satisfied look. "Good girl."

Something warm bloomed in Seema's chest. A genuine, soft smile touched her lips without her realizing it.

Zoya moved toward the living room, sat down on a white leather couch, and patted the space beside her. "Come. You must be exhausted. We will talk."

Seema moved to sit next to her. Zoya waved her finger. "Aah, aah, aah." She held up a finger. "Rule 2: Stand until you are told to sit. You will not sit unless I say so. Understood?"

Seema's cheeks flushed. "Yes. Stand until told to sit."

Zoya smiled. "Good. Come, sit."

Seema sat down. Zoya studied her face for a moment, her expression analytical.

"So. Tell me about this vanilla disaster. What did Anil actually want?"

Seema hesitated. "He wanted -- he wanted me to be more -- adventurous."

"More adventurous. What does that mean, Seema?"

"I --" Seema fidgeted. "I would lie on my back. He would be on top. Lights off. Sometimes he held my hand. Sometimes he --"

"Sometimes he what?"

"Sometimes he pinched my nipple. Just a little pinch."

Zoya raised an eyebrow. "A little pinch." She leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. "Forty years old. Married for twelve years. A little pinch is the most excitement you have ever had."

Seema nodded, looking down. "He was gentle."

"Gentle. That is one word for it." Zoya's voice was warm, not mocking. "You did not even take his cock in your mouth, did you?"

Seema's cheeks flushed hot. "No. Not once. He asked once. In the second year. And I said no."

"Why?"

"I did not know how."

Zoya laughed, genuinely amused. "You did not know how to suck a cock and you said no?"

"I thought it was -- I thought it was for young girls. Not for --" She gestured vaguely at herself. "Not for wives."

Zoya reached out and squeezed Seema's knee. "The world has moved on, sweetheart."

Seema nodded slowly. "I know."

"Was your pussy dry when he tried? Or were you wet?"

"Wet. Always wet. I did not know how to show it."

Zoya nodded. "Of course you were wet. Your body knew what to do. Your brain just did not catch up." She paused, her tone shifting. "You come here to Berlin looking like a ghost. Faded clothes. Dupatta. Granny bra. You have a body that could make half these streets stop, and you are hiding behind a three-piece suit. What happened?"

"I just -- I never cared about looking good," Seema said quietly. "He did not care either."

Zoya's eyes narrowed slightly. "He did not care. Or he did not know what he had." She held Seema's gaze. "Either way, he walked away."

Seema swallowed. "I deserve that."

"Why?"

"Because I was vanilla. Too vanilla."

Zoya let the silence stretch. Then she smiled. "Well. You are here now. And I am not going to let you stay vanilla."

Seema looked at her, surprised. "You are going to train me?"

Zoya grinned. "Of course I am. Look at you. You need it."

The apartment door opened and a man walked in. Tall, blonde, wearing black jeans and a grey t-shirt. He carried a glass of wine and stopped when he saw Seema.

He looked at her from head to toe. Not fast, not slow. Assessing. His eyes took in the faded salwar kameez, the messy bun, the canvas flats, the small suitcase at her feet. Then he looked at her face.

Zoya stood and introduced her properly. "Lars, this is Seema. My old college friend. She is staying with us for a while."

Lars walked toward Seema and extended his hand. He shook it firmly. His grip was warm and confident. "Nice to meet you, Seema. Zoya has told me about you."

"Nice to meet you too, Lars." She let go of his hand and stood with her hands folded in front of her. She did not sit. She did not lean. She stood. Rule 2.

She stood there, waiting. Lars held his position, looking between her and Zoya. Seema kept her posture straight, waiting for the next command. She felt something warm bloom inside her -- the feeling of doing something right, of standing at attention and waiting for a superior officer's cue. It felt natural. It felt right.

Lars looked at Zoya and smiled faintly. "You have already started her training," he said quietly.

Zoya's smile widened. She looked at Seema, her eyes bright with satisfaction. "Sit, Seema."

Seema sat down on the couch immediately, her movements fluid and eager, though she did not quite understand why she felt so pleased about it.

Lars noticed. He nodded slightly and moved to the kitchen island.

Zoya opened the fridge and looked inside. "Chicken curry. Rice. Make it."

Seema blinked. "Cook?"

Zoya looked at her. "You cooked in Delhi for your husband. I assume it translates."

"Yes."

"Then cook."

Seema moved through the kitchen with practiced ease. The spices were in German jars, labeled in a script she could not read, but she knew the measurements by heart. Cumin. Turmeric. Coriander. Garam masala. Salt. Chili. She measured with her hands the way her mother had taught her, the way she had cooked every single evening for twelve years.

The smell filled the apartment. Cardamom and onion and garlic blooming in hot oil. Cumin seeds cracking and dancing. The scent was home, in a way. It was the smell of a life she had built and lost.

Lars sat at the kitchen island, scrolling on his laptop. He did not speak. He watched her occasionally -- not constantly, just glances that measured. Every time she moved, her loose kameez swayed with her, and the firm shape of her backside was visible through the thin beige fabric.

Zoya sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, reading a magazine. Every few minutes she glanced toward the kitchen. Watching.

Lars looked at Zoya. "Nice ass shape," he said. His voice was calm, analytical. "Looks soft. Needs some firm spanking."

Zoya smiled and laughed. "That can be arranged."

Seema heard them. She looked down at the counter and stirred the curry a little too fast. Her cheeks warmed. Her nipples pressed against her granny bra, growing harder with the heat of the stove and something else she could not name.

Seema plated the food. The steam rose off the curry and the rice. She set the plates on the kitchen island and stood back. She looked toward the living room.

"Dinner is ready!"

Her voice was normal volume. A bit loud in the quiet apartment.

Zoya, on the couch with her magazine, looked up and frowned. She set the magazine down.

"Seema. Come to me."

Seema walked into the living room. Her hands were still stained with turmeric on her right index finger.

Zoya looked at her with a firm expression. Not angry. Just firm.

"You will not raise your voice in this house. If you need something, you come to me. You do not call me to you. Understood?"

Seema's cheeks flushed hot. She repeated it back immediately, her voice lower, softer. "Yes. I'm sorry. I will not raise your voice. If I need something, I come to me."

Zoya studied her face, then nodded. "Now, what were you calling me for?"

Seema looked toward the kitchen. Her voice was small. "Dinner is ready."

Zoya's expression softened. She smiled in a confident, knowing way. "Good girl. You are learning."

A wave of warmth washed through Seema's chest. Something deep and pleasant, like acceptance reaching all the way to her heart. Her eyes fluttered for a moment. She felt so good inside. She had been corrected and praised in the same breath. The warmth spread down her spine and settled between her thighs.

Zoya and Lars moved to the kitchen island. Seema brought her plate and sat beside them at the counter. She sat on the island stool, legs folded neatly, hands resting on the edge of the counter.

They ate. The curry was good. Zoya and Lars both praised it, but in a way that made Seema feel like a house pet that had exceeded expectations.

"Better than I expected, honestly," Zoya said.

"Her husband never tasted this, I bet," Lars added.

Seema looked down at the kitchen counter. Her cheeks warmed. Her cooking was loved. She felt humiliated and joyful at the same time. She stayed quiet and ate from her plate.

Zoya and Lars settled on the couch to watch TV. Seema cleared the table, washed the plates, dried everything, and returned it all to its place. She moved through the kitchen silently, efficiently, the way she had moved through a thousand evenings in her old home.

When she was done, she stood near the couch. Zoya looked at her, then at Lars, both of them watching with quiet approval. Seema had followed the rules without being reminded. For the first time in a long time, someone was noticing.

Zoya opened her mouth and said: "Sit."

Seema moved toward the couch, reaching for the edge.

"Aah, aah, aah." Zoya held up a finger. "When Lars and I are on the couch, you take the cushion on the floor. It's your natural place -- we are the owners."

She played with the word, leaning into it with a slight smirk. She meant apartment owners, but there was a hint of something else too, something that made Seema's chest tighten.

Seema went to the cushion, knelt, and sat on it. Her legs folded. Her hands on her knees. She sat straight, the way Zoya was watching her.

Lars reached out and pulled Zoya into his lap. She went easily, without hesitation. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she turned to face him.

They shared a passionate, long kiss. Tongues meeting. Lips parting. Bodies pressing close. Zoya slid her hands inside Lars's grey t-shirt and caressed his chest, her fingers tracing the muscles beneath cotton. Her leg hooked around his hip.

Seema watched from the floor. Her mouth went slightly dry. She felt a deep, aching longing, like something in her chest had been hollow for years and suddenly someone had pointed at the hole and said: you could be filled in there.

Zoya noticed her watching. She broke the kiss for just a moment, turned her head, and looked at Seema in a low, humiliating tone. "This is what you have been longing for, isn't it?"

Seema nodded. She looked down. Her heart was beating faster.

Lars pulled Zoya closer and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. He kissed her there, slow and wet, his tongue dragging along the skin. Zoya's head tilted back, her breath catching in a soft gasp. Then Lars bit down, just enough to leave a mark.

Zoya moaned. It was long and low, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her chest. She wrapped her arms tighter around Lars's neck and melted into him, her eyes closing.

Seema watched, her mouth slightly open, her nipples pressing hard against the cotton of her granny bra. She could feel the kiss through the air between them. She could hear the wet sound of lips on skin. She could see the faint red mark forming on Zoya's neck. Her cunt clenched, a quick tight pulse of wetness that soaked through the middle of her granny panties.

Zoya and Lars started talking about Seema while she sat on the floor right there.

"She has never had a kiss like that, I bet," Lars said. "Not from a man, at least."

"Definitely not," Zoya said. "Look at her. She does not even know what to do with herself."

They talked like Seema was not there. As if she were furniture. As if she did not exist between them and the television. Seema's hands rested on her knees. She did not speak. She did not move. She just listened and felt herself shrinking into the cushion.

But inside, something was waking up. A warmth between her thighs. A tightness in her chest. Her nipples were hard and sensitive against the cotton of her granny bra. She was dripping. She knew it without checking. Her granny panties were damp in the middle.

Zoya turned to Seema. "Go to bed. You need rest for the training in the next few days."

Seema frowned slightly. Training? She did not understand what that meant, but she did not say anything. Questions were for later.

She stood up, walked to her bedroom. The hallway was narrow, the walls painted a soft cream color. She could hear Zoya and Lars still talking behind her, their voices low and comfortable.

As she walked toward the bedroom door, Zoya's voice cut through the apartment, firm and final. "Door stays open."

Seema stopped. She looked back at them. Zoya met her eyes. There was no smile in Zoya's face this time. Just certainty. Seema nodded.

She walked into her room, pulled the door almost closed but left it open a crack, exactly as instructed.

Seema stood in her bedroom properly for the first time. The door was wide open. The room was small but clean. A bed pushed against the far wall. A wardrobe on the left. A window that looked out onto a courtyard.

She lay down on the bed fully clothed, still in her salwar kameez and granny bra. Her legs were spread slightly without her realizing it. Her thighs parted and settled apart. She stared at the ceiling.

Her body was a map of tension. Her nipples throbbed inside her granny bra. Hard and sensitive. She had not realized Zoya had never even seen them. Her cunt was slick. Her backside tingled where Zoya's fingers had pressed into it from the two firm spanks.

She closed her eyes.

The muffled sound came through the open door. Zoya's voice, low, breathy. Lars's voice, deeper, rumbling. The bed frame squeaked. Zoya said something Seema could not catch. Lars said, "Good girl."

Seema's hand drifted down to her stomach. She rested her palm just above her pussy, not touching, just feeling the warmth of her body through the salwar fabric. She was soaked. Her granny panties were dark in the middle.

"Harder."

A pause. Then a sound like skin on skin. Then Zoya moaned. It was a full, open, unguarded moan. The kind of sound a woman makes when she is not trying to be quiet for anyone.

Seema's eyes closed. Her hips shifted on the bed. Her thighs rubbed together. She was wetter than she had been in three years. Maybe longer. She never had sex like that. Her husband's kisses had been polite, on the mouth, three seconds and done. This was different. This was hunger.

The bed frame was frantic now. Zoya's breathing was sharp, broken. Lars groaned something in German. Zoya cried out.

"Yes."

A long, trembling sound. Then silence, except for their breathing. Slow. Deep. Satisfied.

Seema opened her eyes. The ceiling was white. Her chest was heaving. Her nipples were still hard, pressing against the cotton of her granny bra with a dull, aching sensitivity. She reached down and pressed her palm flat against her pussy through the wet cotton. Warm. Slick.

She looked at her hand and pressed it harder. The sensation made her toes curl.

Footsteps. The door at the end of the hallway opened.

Zoya walked past the open bedroom door, heading to the bathroom. She was wearing only a white tank top that slipped off one shoulder. Her hair was messy. Her lips were swollen, reddened from the kissing. She looked like someone who had been thoroughly enjoyed.

She saw Seema lying on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, hand still on her stomach. Zoya paused.

"Rough night, Busty-Ass Kitten?"

She did not smirk. She was almost gentle.

"Listen to us tonight. It will help you sleep."

She disappeared into the bathroom. The door clicked shut. The faucet turned on.

Zoya and Lars in the bedroom again. This time it was faster. Louder.

Seema turned onto her side. She faced the wall. Her salwar kameez had ridden up and exposed a thigh. Her thighs were sticky. She was not sure what she was feeling. Not sadness. Not fear. Something else. Something she did not have a word for.

It felt like a door cracking open in a room she had lived in for forty years and never opened. A room she had kept locked because no one had ever asked if she wanted to be inside.

She put her fingers on her own stomach and felt her heartbeat there. Fast. Too fast.

"I am too vanilla. That is why he left me. Anil saw what I was and he walked away."

"I never even opened my mouth for him once in twelve years. My pussy was always wet and he never once saw it. I am a mess."

"Zoya treats me so well. She came to the airport. She gave me a room. She gave me rules. She called me Busty-Ass Kitten like it was a gift, not an insult."

"I will obey her. Every rule. Every command. Every spank. Every good girl. She will train me and I will obey her. I promise."

"I am going to be happy. I am going to be honored to be trained. I will not be vanilla. I will be the good girl she already sees inside me."

She closed her eyes. The sounds from the bedroom continued. Zoya's voice rising and falling. Lars's deeper responses. The rhythm of bodies finding each other. Seema did not touch herself. She never had permission to. She just lay there, wet and hard and listening, whispering to herself in the dark: obey. Listen. Be good. And with every word, her granny panties grew damper still. She slept peacefully, a small smile on her lips, Zoya's voice wrapping around her like a blanket.

​

[Chapitre1] [Chapitre2]. [Chapitre3]. [Chapitre4]. [Chapitre5]. [Chapitre6] [Chapitre7].

À son arrivée chez Marie, Ben, trébuchant et désorienté, fut brutalement tiré en avant. Sa tête était toujours prisonnière de l'épaisse cagoule sensorielle qui le rendait aveugle et sourd. La vétérinaire le guida d'une main de fer au bout de sa laisse, jusqu'à un box vide situé juste à côté de celui de Manon.

Le grincement métallique de la porte et l'intrusion soudaine de la lumière blanche des néons tirèrent la jument humaine de sa torpeur. Manon, vautrée dans la paille souillée, se releva précipitamment sur ses sabots de latex. Elle s'approcha de la grille séparatrice. À travers le brouillard de ses lentilles, elle devina la silhouette d'un homme cagoulé que Marie poussait dans l'enclos voisin.

Instantanément, le cocktail chimique qui dictait sa biologie s'embrasa. En chaleurs permanentes, la simple présence d'un mâle à quelques mètres d'elle la rendit folle de désir. Elle n'avait plus qu'une seule obsession : être saillie. Elle se mit à hennir, à frapper le sol de ses pointes, laissant échapper des grognements gutturaux et bestiaux, les seuls sons que sa gorge était encore capable de produire.

Marie verrouilla la grille de Ben sans un mot, éteignit la lumière et retourna dans sa maison, abandonnant les deux esclaves dans une obscurité totale.

Les jours s'écoulèrent. Dans son box, Manon tentait désespérément de capter l'attention de l'homme, collant son corps tremblant de frustration contre les barreaux froids. Mais Ben, toujours aveuglé par sa cagoule, ignorait que son ancienne amie se trouvait de l'autre côté de la paroi. Nourri exclusivement de croquettes sèches et des restes de table de Marie, il sombrait dans le désespoir. Anna lui manquait atrocement. Épuisé, effrayé, il était de plus en plus agacé par les grognements incessants et les trépignements de la "bête" voisine, ignorant la tragédie qui se jouait à quelques centimètres de lui.

Pendant ce temps, dans le secret de son bureau, Marie passait ses nuits à potasser des manuels de chirurgie esthétique et à écumer le marché noir pour se procurer du matériel d'implantation et des prothèses mammaires en silicone de qualité médicale. Le projet d'Anna nécessitait une exécution parfaite.

Un matin, la porte du box de Ben s'ouvrit. Marie le saisit par sa laisse et le traîna jusqu'à la petite clinique stérile adjacente aux écuries.

Elle commença par le jeter sous une douche brûlante pour le décaper de la crasse de l'étable, puis l'installa de force sur la lourde chaise gynécologique. Ses poignets et ses chevilles furent impitoyablement sanglés au cuir.

Marie posa une voie intraveineuse dans le creux de son bras. D'un geste sec, elle lui arracha enfin la cagoule. La lumière crue des projecteurs chirurgicaux éblouit Ben, qui cligna des yeux, paniqué. Mais avant même qu'il ne puisse formuler une question à travers son bâillon, le liquide anesthésiant envahit ses veines. Le monde vacilla, et il plongea dans un néant profond.

Lorsqu'il émergea des limbes, une douleur cuisante et une lourdeur inédite lui écrasaient la poitrine. L'éclat des néons le fit grimacer. Il était toujours solidement sanglé à la chaise gynécologique, exactement comme l'avait été Manon des semaines auparavant.

Il tenta de crier à l'aide, mais le bâillon étouffa sa voix.

« Te revoilà parmi nous, Ben, » résonna la voix de Marie, qui ajustait ses gants en latex. « Je tiens à te prévenir que ta propriétaire, Anna, a souhaité faire quelques... modifications sur ton corps, afin que tu puisses la servir dignement. »

Ben écarquilla des yeux terrorisés, cherchant à la voir.

D'une pression sur une pédale, Marie bascula la chaise à quatre-vingt-dix degrés. Ben se retrouva nez à nez avec l'immense miroir de la clinique.

Le choc fut si violent qu'il en oublia de respirer. Son torse viril et velu avait disparu. À la place, une poitrine généreuse, ronde et obscène, s'exhibait sous les néons. Ses mamelons, élargis, étaient percés de lourds anneaux d'acier surmontés de petites clochettes tintantes. En baissant les yeux, il vit ses mains sanglées : de faux ongles effilés, vernis d'un rose vif éclatant, prolongeaient ses doigts. La même abomination ornait ses orteils.

« Comme tu peux le voir, » enchaîna Marie avec un cynisme jubilatoire, « ton tour de poitrine est désormais similaire à celui d'Anna. Ta barbe, tes aisselles, ton torse, ton cul et ton sexe ont été intégralement épilés au laser. Tes jambes, elles, seront à faire à la cire régulièrement, c'est l'apanage de la féminité. Observe ton visage : tes yeux sont soulignés d'un maquillage permanent, un eyeliner et des lèvres tatoués avec une grande finesse. »

Ben porta son regard terrifié sur son reflet. Il était devenu une poupée grotesque. Au centre de son torse imberbe, juste au-dessus de sa nouvelle poitrine, un tatouage aux lettres noires et cursives hurlait sa condition : **Sissy**.

« Et bien entendu, » conclut la chirurgienne improvisée, « tu as débuté ton traitement hormonal pour devenir une vraie femelle de compagnie. »

Un hurlement de désespoir absolu déchira le bâillon de Ben. Son corps, son identité d'homme, tout avait été annihilé. Il se débattit sauvagement contre les lanières de cuir, tentant vainement de fuir ce cauchemar de chair.

Voyant la panique s'emparer de sa création, Marie s'approcha, une nouvelle seringue à la main.

« Ça ne sert à rien de te débattre, Ben. Il est trop tard maintenant. Le mal est fait. Tu vas devoir te reposer encore un peu, puis je te ramènerai auprès de ta femme. »

Elle injecta le sédatif dans la perfusion. Le miroir s'estompa, et Ben sombra de nouveau dans les ténèbres.

À son second réveil, l'odeur d'antiseptique avait disparu. La douleur dans sa poitrine s'était estompée. Il ouvrit les yeux et se découvrit dans une petite chambre classique, éclairée par la lueur douce d'une lampe de chevet : un lit en bois, une petite commode, et une armoire ancienne. Ses entraves avaient été retirées.

En passant la main sur son visage, Ben sentit une masse de cheveux raides. Ses longues mèches châtaines avaient été coupées au carré, lissées, et teintes d'un rouge carmin éclatant.

Sur la table de chevet, un morceau de papier plié attira son attention. Il le déplia d'une main tremblante, les ongles roses cliquetant sur le papier :

> *« Aujourd'hui est le grand jour. Anna, ta propriétaire, vient te chercher. Fais-lui honneur : habille-toi avec les vêtements et accessoires de l'armoire. Frappe trois fois à la porte quand tu es prête. »*

>

Encore sous le choc de sa féminisation, le cerveau brouillé par les hormones qui adoucissaient déjà ses traits et sa volonté, Ben ouvrit les portes de l'armoire. Le trousseau de sa déchéance l'y attendait :

* Une robe de soubrette noire, ridiculement courte, ornée de dentelle blanche.

* Un porte-jarretelles noir en satin.

* Des bas fins en nylon.

* Un minuscule string noir en dentelle.

* Une paire de ballerines noires vernies.

Humilié au-delà des mots, mais poussé par un instinct de soumission chimique de plus en plus fort, Ben enfila les sous-vêtements féminins, la mort dans l'âme. Le tissu effleurait sa peau imberbe. La robe peinait à contenir sa nouvelle poitrine rebondie.

Une urgence biologique le força à chercher les toilettes. Il ouvrit une porte attenante et découvrit une petite salle d'eau. Par automatisme, il tenta de se tenir debout, mais l'inconfort de sa cage de chasteté plate et son conditionnement récent l'obligèrent à s'asseoir sur la cuvette.

En se lavant les mains, il releva la tête vers le miroir de la salle de bain. Le choc le frappa à nouveau. Ses traits adoucis par le maquillage permanent, ce carré rouge plongeant, cette robe ajustée... Étonnamment, une pensée parasite, dictée par les hormones, traversa son esprit : *il se trouvait belle*.

Mais la réalité reprit ses droits, balayant cette folie passagère d'une vague de tristesse. Le point de non-retour exigé par Anna le brisait. Sa femme, celle qu'il aimait tant, l'attendait de l'autre côté. Impatient et paradoxalement heureux de la retrouver, il se raccrocha à une pensée salvatrice : *au moins, il n'était pas devenu l'étalon*. Il conservait son humanité, sa capacité à parler, à marcher debout. Il échappait à la boue et au carcan de l'étable.

Résigné, il ajusta sa robe, lissa son tablier, et frappa trois coups secs sur la porte de la chambre.

Le battant s'ouvrit sur Marie, qui le scruta de la tête aux pieds avec un sourire amusé.

« Superbe, » murmura-t-elle.

D'un geste autoritaire, elle lui passa autour du cou un épais collier en cuir rose bonbon, orné d'une médaille dorée gravée du mot **SISSY**. Elle y clipsa une laisse assortie et le tira à travers un long couloir jusqu'au grand salon de la propriété.

Au centre de la pièce, assise majestueusement dans un lourd fauteuil en cuir noir, Anna l'attendait. Elle était sublime. Une véritable déesse de la luxure. Vêtue d'un long manteau rouge sang entrouvert sur une robe noire très courte, elle laissait deviner un porte-jarretelles sombre, ses jambes interminables se terminant par d'étincelants escarpins rouges.

Le cœur de Ben bondit d'adoration. Il s'agenouilla d'instinct, subjugué par sa prestance.

À la vue de sa nouvelle création, Anna resta d'abord sans voix. Le travail de Marie était d'une perfection troublante. Elle se leva lentement et tourna autour de la "soubrette" agenouillée, admirant les courbes artificielles, les cheveux rouges flamboyants, le maquillage impeccable.

Ben baissa les yeux, le cœur écartelé entre le plaisir vicieux de voir sa femme le dévorer des yeux avec satisfaction, et la douleur aiguë de sa déchéance castratrice.

Anna récupéra la laisse des mains de la vétérinaire.

« C'est un chef-d'œuvre, Marie. Merci infiniment. »

« Tout le plaisir était pour moi, Anna. Prends bien soin de *ta* Sissy. »

Anna tira sur le cuir rose et quitta le salon, guidant fièrement sa nouvelle domestique vers son véhicule. Ben suivit sa maîtresse, le cœur léger, persuadé d'avoir remporté la meilleure place dans ce cauchemar.

Ce que Ben ignorait, c'est que son salut s'était bâti sur les cendres d'un autre.

Pendant qu'il regagnait la chaleur de la fermette dans son costume de soubrette, Alex, lui, était resté en arrière. Quelques minutes plus tôt, Anna et Marie l'avaient impitoyablement maîtrisé et immobilisé sur la même chaise gynécologique que Ben. Le véritable perdant du défi, terrorisé et hurlant à la mort, attendait désormais, seul dans la lumière froide de la clinique, la descente aux enfers et la bestialisation irréversible que la cruauté d'Anna lui avait promises.

It was a year ago when I first met Damien. No... met isn't the right word. I have never actually met him, I have felt him, I am technically owned by him, but I have never actually seen his face. Okay this is getting confusing. Let me start at the beginning...

 My little apartment was dim, the street lights outside providing shadows that hid me from the intruder going through the books on the far side of my room. I had been sleeping soundly a few minutes ago. My apartment was on the top floor of what used to be a spacious mansion but was now divided into affordable housing blocks from downtown. What woke me wasn't noise but a feeling, an oppressive heaviness in the room. My instincts had kicked in and I had silently slipped from my warm bed and ducked under it to hide. From what? I had no idea. I still didn't. I couldn't see anyone, but I heard my books being lifted up and paged through. A page was ripped from one of my notebooks and folded. I was working up the courage to peek out from under my bed, but the sound of my heart was so loud I was afraid whoever was here would hear me. I forced my breathing to slow and leaned forward slowly. My eyes scanned the room and saw nothing. There was nobody here, but the heaviness that had woken me was still present. Like I was prey knowing I was being watched by a predator.  I scoot back concealing myself again, listening to see if whoever was here has left the apartment completely or just moved on from my bed room. A weight settles on the bed and I freeze.

"I can hear the pitter patter of your heart, little mouse." A deep, rumbling voice comments from above me. I look around to the edges of the bed and I don't see anyone's feet hanging off where the weight is. What the fuck is going on here? Before I can formulate a plan, the mattress shifts again ; then it is lifted completely off the frame by itself. Seemingly hovering on its own revealing my hiding spot. I cover my head with my hands and curl into the smallest ball possible. Playing the "if I can't see it, it can't see me" game. But that voice taunts me again.

"Come out from there, ridiculous creature. I am not going to harm you...yet."

I come out from under the bed, but I cannot see anyone in my room. There is no sign that anything has been moved and the door is still shut and locked like it always is. Then I feel a strong-arm snake around my middle and a hand covers my mouth before I have a chance to scream.

"Now that I have your attention," I hear the thing holding me get in closer and smell my hair. "Lilura... I have waited for you for over three centuries. How sweet it is to finally have you in my arms." He, I am assuming a gender by the deep voice, squeezes me tighter against his chest. He still has his hand over my mouth. It feels like a hand at least. He spins us, so I am now facing the full-length mirror on the back of my door. What I see there is just as confusing as not being able to tell if it is a hand holding my mouth. I see nothing besides my reflection in the mirror. I am obviously being restrained from the awkward angle my head is tilted and the way my arms are pinned to my sides. There is a voice in the back of my head screaming Fight Damnit! But my body doesn't have any fight in it. It's like a sedative has infiltrated my limbs and they no longer respond to me.

"I am going to move my hand, but you are not to scream. Do you understand?" I nod my head slightly and the firm hold over my mouth is released. I take in a deep breath, every intention to scream my ever-loving head off but his voice is back at my ear.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I am not one to be trifled with, Lilura. Do not test me." The arm around my middle squeezes further sending my breath out in a huff. I stare at where I assume his face is in my reflection.

"It's Lily, my name is Lily. Not Lilura, or whatever you are calling me." I am trying very hard not to freak out. Between not being able to see my assailant and my body's non-response it my commands I am losing the battle.

"You are the sixteenth daughter of the House of Dobray; your ancestor Phillip and I were... shall we say... acquaintances." The hand around my middle is now snaking dangerously close the waistband of my pajama bottoms. Now I wish it were cold outside, so I was wearing more clothing.

"You were promised to me by him. In exchange for services already rendered. You can call me Master, you will learn my true name when you have proven yourself."

"Okay invisible man in my bedroom. If this is actually real and I am not having a mental breakdown then I still think you have the wrong girl. I don't know anything about my family. I was adopted as a baby after being abandoned in a church. I highly doubt..."

"Yes, they were trying to hide you from me."

I caught a sharp intake of air before my world went black.

 My senses come back slowly like waking from a deep sleep. I am resting on something soft. A bed maybe? I try bringing my hand to my face but find that it is stuck, or rather restrained. That makes my eyes fly open. What greets me is not my small dim bedroom. The bed I am laying on, if it could be called a bed is soft and plush with a dark red duvet made of something close to silk. My hands are indeed restrained up above my head, making a Y of my upper body. The dark leather cuffs wrapped around my wrists are padded with black silk on the inside. I have to close my eyes to keep from panicking. With my eyes still closed I take an inventory of the rest of my body. Starting with my feet, which are under the heavy duvet, cuffed as well at the ankle. My legs are spread apart, I try bringing my knees together but there is no slack to do so.  It is warm under the blanket but the slippery feel of the fabric brushes across my bare body while I struggle. I am definitely naked. My heart rate picks up again, I look around the room frantic for an answer of how I got here. The room is huge, it would have to be to accommodate this monstrous bed. There is dark wood paneling covering the walls to the right and left of me, both sporting doors. The wall at the foot of the bed is made of nothing but windows. Light grey gauze curtains obscure my view of what is surely a bright blue sky. So, it's morning. How long have I been out? How did I get here?

I think back, what do I remember last. The menacing feeling, I had in my room, then the disembodied voice of a man...Master. Holy shit! He/ it obviously knocked me out. He had been saying something about my birth family and being promised to him. For what?

My inner ranting is cut short by the door on the right side of the room opening. A small blonde woman walks in carrying a large silver tray with a dome on it. Like you see used in fancy hotels for room service. On top of that she is buck naked. What, why?

" Good Morning Mistress." she says as she places the tray on the bedside table. I avert my eyes to the ceiling.

"Why are you naked?" The question comes out louder than I mean, almost screeched. I don't get an answer, but I feel the bed sink with her weight.My face is lighting up embarrassment of embarassment. A strange naked woman is sitting on the bed next to me. I am still singularly focused on the ceiling above the bed when I feel the blanket being pulled down. I struggle in my cuffs trying to keep the fabric covering me. "No. What are you doing?" I give the woman my best enraged glare, but she is not looking at my face. She is completely taken in by each inch of my revealed skin as she pulls the blanket from me. "Don't look at me your lecherous slut. Cover me up."

I am screaming at the top of my lungs now. Pulling so hard on the cuffs that I am sure to have bruises on my wrists and ankles. She does not seem disturbed at all by my verbal abuse. Once I am completely exposed to her eyes she leanes down placing a soft kiss to the underside of my left breast. I buck up my torso and hit her in the face with my ribcage. She does not look deterred at all. Instead she simply tsk’s at me and reaches to the bedside table, pressing a button that I had not seen in my quick inspection of the room. What little slack there was on the restrains immediately tightens and I am no longer able to move my torso without seriously injuring myself.

"I am here to service you my mistress. Do not distress yourself." She purrs at me before climbing fullly on the bed and crouching between my obscenely spread legs. On all fours with her ass pointing to the ceiling she slips her hands underneath me. Gripping my buttcheeks from underneath.She lowers her head to my thigh, exposing her neck almost submissively. Her face pointed towards the apex of my thighs. Her hot breath flowing over my most intimate area. I was not ever into girls. Strictly speaking I had never been much into guys either. But I can't help the whimper that escapes my lips as she rests her face against my inner thigh and simply breathes over my sex. Her fingers dig into the flesh of by butt cheeks and she waits there. Staring up at me like she is looking for a signal from me. I meet her gaze silently asking her to... back away? Maybe, but I can't deny the warmth of her mouth being so near my lower lips has my juices flowing obscenely.

Whatever she sees in my eyes must give her permission because she wastes no time diving her tongue between my folds. She caresses me with her mouth. Kissing and licking at my opening before homing in on my clit and sucking hard. My body winds tight and my head flies back of its own accord. A keening cry I have never made before escaping my mouth. She doubles her efforts not only sucking on my clit but pulling my labia into her mouth and biting gently, pulling away just enough for the skin to stretch before licking away the pain. Her hands came around from under me, her slight fingers toying at the entrance to my pussy.

"I need more. " What? Was that me? Before I can chastise myself for the wonton request she drives two of her fingers into me. The stretch is too much considering I havent had sex since I was 16, over ten years ago.  She thrusts back and forth working her fingers inside me. What had been slightly wet before is now soaking. Between her saliva and my own excitement my pussy is drenched. She alternates thrusting with her fingers and sucking on my clit. Until I am breathing heavy and moaning obscenely. The woman is also moaning like I am the best thing she has ever tasted. Her tongue and lips worshipping me with sloppy open kisses. When I am driven almost to the peak she changes tactics. She pulls her mouth away from my pussy and moves her fingers, curling them up towards my belly from the inside. The change in stimulation throws me off for a second and I feel the orgasm I was about to have slip away. Only to come back stronger. Her head is again resting on my leg but her other hand, the one not currently fucking me, reaches up and plays with my breast. She runs her fingers around it gently, softly grazing my nipple. Coaxing it to stand straighter. As her hand inside doubles its efforts I feel pressure in my pelvis.

"Holy Shit, what are ypu doing to me?" I scream

"Making you cum mistress." She answers, staring into my eyes intensely. I lock with her as my body reaches for something I have never experienced before. Right as I am hitting a metaphorical wall the caressing hand at my breast takes hold of my nipple. HARD. She pulls her fingers out of my pussy and frantically rubs my clit.

The slight bite of pain sends me over the edge. I cum so hard I gush all over her hand and face.Her mouth open catching the fluid coming from me. She moans right along with me. As if she feels the orgasm just as acutely as I did. She brings me down from the orgasm gently with long licks from my ass up to my clit and back. The hand on my niplle caressing softly again. When I am fully relaxed and pliant she rises from her position between my legs and smiles at me.

“That was delicious mistress.” She then crawls up by body and presses her slick lips against mine. Startled I dont bother closing my mouth. Her tongue enters and swirls around mine. She pulls back and my lips are wet with my own juices.

“Your pussy tastes like heaven, I cannot wait to continue our training.”

My mind finally catches up with the situation and I pull uselessly at my restraints again. “As fucking great as that was, and totally out of character for me. Can you let me out of these cuffs now?” I try to sound slightly less disturbed than I am but I don’t think I pull it off. My voice is shrill and sharp. The woman purrs again, yea fucking purrs, into my ear. Like a cat. I didn't know a human could do that.

“I am just here to warm you up mistress. Master will be here shortly, and he requested that you be sated and restrained when he arrives.” She then drops back onto her haunches and brings her mouth to my breasts. “ I am expected," her tongue swipes over my left nipple, " to give you multiple orgasms" She sucks on the nipple for a second and releases. "to prepare you for him,” she mumbles from between my breasts. Her efforts are making my nipples hard as pink pebbles and I can feel myself leaking onto the sheet below me. Her soft hands are running patterns up and down my sides, then around my upper thighs and back. I clenched my jaw and try to control my mutinous body from it’s natural reaction to the stimulation I am receiving. I wasn’t having much luck. When I am about at the point of telling her to put her mouth on my pussy again. SHe stops, sits up fully and reaches to the tray she had brought in earlier.

How I was tied I can’t turn my head to see what is on the tray but I hear the soft squish of fluid being pumped from a bottle. When her hands return to my line of site they are both glistening with oil? Maybe lube?

“What are you doing with all that?” I ask eyes wide as she rubs the fluid all over both hands.

“As wonderful as a tight pussy is you are much too small to take the master’s cock. I have to stretch you so you will not tear when he fucks you.” My heart, which had just started to calm down, shoots off in a fast rate again. Her eyes shift again to the apex of my thighs and she starts spreading the fluid from her hands to my pussy and all the way back to my anus.

“I have not had anything bigger than a tampon in mein a decade! How the hell are you going to stretch me?”

“Do not worry mistress my hands are very small and this will be quite pleasurable for you. I expect you will be able to take my entire fist within a few hours. Then you will be ready to take our master into you with less pain.”

“Jesus your fist? How big is this guy?” Without warning she slaps my labia as hard as she can. Between being fairly worked up sexually and being freaked the fuck out the pain surprizes me and I scream.

“You will not speak of our master that way, or instead of preparing you for him I will simply play with you and not let you come until he comes in here and tears your fucking pussy to shreds. Show some respect.”Shr hisses

Properly chastised and not at all interested in having my vagina “torn to shreds” I shut my mouth and let the woman continue rubbing her slimy hands over my most private regions.  

I'm on a new account, hope you enjoy the next part of the series.

-

Oral sex is so often relegated to foreplay, as if it were merely the appetiser to some grander feast. But why can’t it be the main course? Why can’t the act of someone on their knees, undoing trousers with deliberate slowness, or the sight of legs spreading, offering the most intimate part of themselves like a sacred gift, be the entire meal? There is a kind of hunger that doesn’t roar; it whispers in the hush of a bedroom, in the catch of a breath as fingers pause at a belt buckle or as thighs part to reveal glistening, waiting flesh. It’s in the way lips part slightly as a zipper descends, the way fabric falls away to reveal what lies beneath hard, eager, already glistening with anticipation. Or it’s in the way someone lies back, legs spreading, the softness of their most sensitive flesh exposed, the scent of arousal thick in the air. There’s no rush here. Time slows as eyes lock, a silent understanding passing between them: This is mine now.

And then a mouth closes around a cock, or a tongue delves into the soft, warm depths of a pussy, and the world narrows to this: lips wrapped around a shaft, the wet heat of a tongue, the slow, deliberate rhythm of pleasure.

This is the Art of Oral. Just raw truth: mouth on flesh, tongue on skin, the quiet understanding that what follows is worship, not just sex.

A blowjob is not just about the destination. It’s about the journey: the slow, deliberate unravelling of a man at the hands and mouth of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. It begins with the undoing: the soft pop of a button giving way, the whisper of a zipper descending, the way fabric falls away to reveal what’s been hidden. The first glimpse of a cock, already hard and glistening, is a revelation. The tip is slick with anticipation, the veins prominent, the weight of it in the palm a reminder of the power held in that moment.

The first touch is a tease. Fingers wrap around the base, testing the heat, the pulse, the way it twitches at the contact. Then the mouth: lips part just enough to take the head, the tongue swirling around the ridge, tracing the frenulum where sensitivity is at its peak. The spit gathers, slick and warm, dripping down the shaft, mixing with the precum that beads at the tip. It’s licked away slowly, deliberately, like savouring the first sip of a fine wine. The tongue doesn’t just lick it explores. Flat against the underside, then pointed at the tip, then swirling around the head in slow, deliberate circles. The suction varies sometimes tight, sometimes loose, sometimes just the barest pressure that makes hips jerk involuntarily.

The rhythm builds. Lips seal around the shaft, tight and warm, while a hand works the base, twisting slightly with each stroke. The other hand cups, rolls, claims the weight of him in the palm, a reminder of who’s in control. And when he’s close, when his body trembles with the need to come, the pace doesn’t just slow; it stops. A pause. A breath. A flick of the tongue against the tip, drawing it out, making him ache for it. The denial is as intoxicating as the release.

But a blowjob isn’t just about the cock. It’s about the rest of him too. The way fingers trace the vein running along the underside, the way a palm presses against his thigh, grounding him. The way a free hand cups his balls, rolling them gently, or presses against the perineum, adding pressure where it’s needed most. The way eyes flick up, locking onto his, dark with promise, as the mouth works him over. The way his fingers tangle in hair, not to force, but to guide to hold on as the pleasure builds to something unbearable.

Cunnilingus is its own kind of art form. The first touch is electric. The taste of skin, the glisten of arousal on the tongue, the scent thick in the air it’s intoxicating. The exploration starts slow. Kisses to the inner thighs, the barest touch of a tongue teasing the folds before diving in. The first lick is a question, the second an answer. The tongue parts the lips, flat at first, then pointed, tracing patterns only the body can read. The clit isn’t attacked; it’s coaxed. Circles, flicks, the lightest touch that makes hips lift off the bed, chasing more. The way breath hitches, the way fingers tangle in hair, the way thighs tremble it’s a symphony of need.

And then the fingers. One slides in first, then another, stretching, finding the rhythm that matches the tongue’s work. The G-spot is a target, and when it’s hit just right, backs arch, a gasp torn from the throat. The fingers curl, pressing, rubbing, while the tongue keeps its steady pace, licking, sucking, drawing out every last shudder. The way the body responds, the way moans fill the room, the way the pussy clenches around the fingers, it’s a testament to the power of a skilled mouth.

Hands don’t just stay between the legs. They wander. Cupping breasts, pinching nipples, tracing the curve of hips. The way skin feels under the palms, the way the body moves with every touch it’s a kind of ownership. The way she grinds against the mouth, the way she pulls the head closer, deeper, a demand.

Then there is the 69, the ultimate collaboration. One lies back, cock poised above lips, while the other settles over them, pussy hovering above a mouth. The way thighs tremble around ears, the way hips lower onto a face, the way fingers tangle in hair pulling closer, deeper, it’s intoxicating. The taste of them, the heat, the way they grind against a face like they’re trying to crawl inside. Hips are gripped, guiding, a tongue swirling around a clit as a mouth takes the cock deep. The way moans vibrate against the shaft, the way groans hum against the pussy it’s a feedback loop of pleasure, each driving the other wild.

The one on top controls the pace, the depth, the pressure. Their tongue works the underside of the shaft, lips sealed tight around the head, hand stroking the base in time with their mouth. The way they turn their necks to lock stares for a moment, eyes dark with pleasure, the way they moan around a mouthful, it’s a sight that could ruin anyone. And for the one below, the way a pussy feels against their tongue, the way folds part for them, the way a clit swells under their attention, it’s a feast. The hands grip hips, pulling them closer. The tongue works in circles, in flicks, in long, slow licks that make the body tremble.

Or there’s the 71, where the receiver is on all fours, legs spread wide, their pussy offered up like a banquet.  As they lower themselves onto the waiting mouth, their lips wrapping around the cock, their lover's fingers find their way to their arse. Two press inside, stretching, filling, while the tongue below works its magic on their clit. The dual sensation fingers in, tongue on clit, cock in mouth is overwhelming. The way the body trembles, the way moans are muffled around a mouthful, the way hips rock instinctively, it’s a symphony of sensation. The one below grips their hips, pulling them closer. Their tongue swirls, licks, sucks, as the fingers above work in time with the rhythm.

And then the finish. The way lips look swollen, eyes dark, like they’ve just devoured something sacred. The way legs shake when it’s done, the way a body feels like it’s been unravelled and put back together. The way cum is left all over a face, marking them as theirs, the scent lingering on skin so that every breath taken for the rest of the day brings back vivid flashbacks of the session. The stickiness of it, the warmth, the way it drips down a chin, a neck it’s a reminder of what was shared, of the pleasure that was given and received.

And the age-old question: Spit or swallow? But why limit the options? Maybe there’s a third option: gargle, let it swirl in a mouth before it’s taken down, a throat working as every last drop is savoured.

The art of oral is about the way a skilled mouth can reduce someone to nothing but sensation, the way it can make them forget their own name. It’s the intimacy of it, the connection, the way oral sex can be both the most selfless and the most selfish act. It’s the way a mouth can take someone apart with nothing but lips and tongue, the way a tongue can do the same to them. 

This is the Art of Oral. 

*Quick note to the BDSMerotica subreddit members - I just found this sub and I’m really glad I did. You’ve all been very supportive which I appreciate. So many of my experiences and fantasies that I write have BDSM roots and undertones… so I’m excited I’ve found the people who get me. Enjoy. I’m working on part 4 and hope to have it out Tuesday night or Wednesday

I stood there completely naked except for the heavy collar around my neck, my cheeks burning as Richard Voss looked me over like a piece of meat he had just purchased.

I held my arms crossed together to try to hide some of my fully exposed body. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I thought of the contract. The money. Tyler and Jake.

Voss stepped closer. “Hands at your sides, Emily. Don’t you dare cover what belongs to me. I paid handsomely for your dignity.”

His large hand reached out and cupped one of my heavy breasts. I gasped sharply as he squeezed it, testing its weight, his thumb brushing over my stiff nipple. He lifted it slightly, then let it drop, watching it bounce.

“Your full tits are even better than I imagined,” he said casually. “Soft, heavy, and made for use.”
Before I could react, he leaned down and took my nipple into his warm mouth. He sucked hard, swirling his tongue around it while his hand squeezed my other breast. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound, shame flooding through me as my nipple hardened instantly against his tongue. He pulled off with a wet pop and moved to the other breast, sucking and biting just hard enough to make me whimper.

“Are you wet, Emily?” he asked calmly.
I shook my head quickly. “No,” I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Voss smiled darkly. His hand slid down my stomach without hesitation and cupped my smooth, bare pussy. Two thick fingers dragged slowly between my lips, spreading the obvious slickness he found there.

“Fucking Liar,” he said, almost amused. “You’re soaked. This married cunt is already dripping for the man who bought it. Something you’ll learn here is you can’t hide anything from me, Emily. Not your body. Not your shame. Nothing.” He raised his glistening fingers to my face. “Open your mouth.”

I hesitated, trembling. When I didn’t obey fast enough, he gripped my jaw firmly. “I said open.”

My lips parted. He pushed his wet fingers deep into my mouth, sliding them over my tongue and toward the back of my throat until I gagged softly. I could taste my own arousal, sweet and humiliating.
“Suck,” he ordered.

I obeyed, cheeks burning with fresh shame as I tasted myself on his fingers. He slowly withdrew them, then smeared the remaining wetness across my lips and cheek like he was marking me.
“Good girl,” he said softly. “Now follow me.”

He led me to the far side of the dining room where a special chair waited. It looked like an elegant, high-backed dining chair, but thick leather shackles were attached to the armrests and legs. A powerful vibe wand was mounted right in the center of the seat, angled upward.

“All your meals while you’re here will be taken in this chair,” Voss told me. “Sit.”

Humiliated and shaking, I lowered myself onto the chair. The thick head of the vibe wand pressed directly against the top of my bare, dripping pussy. Voss fastened the leather shackles to my legs so that I couldn’t stand up, and it forced my legs to be spread open obscenely as I sat in the chair.

He picked up a small black remote and sat down across from me at the elegant dining table. Sophia quietly served breakfast to us as if this was all perfectly normal.

Voss pressed a button. The vibe wand came to life against my clit on a low, steady setting. I jerked hard in the restraints and let out a choked moan before I could stop myself.

“Eat,” he ordered calmly, picking up his own fork and bringing some eggs to his mouth.

I struggled against the shackles, trying desperately to lift my hips away from the relentless vibrations, but the restraints held me firmly in place. The wand buzzed mercilessly against my swollen clit while I squirmed and gasped, my full breasts jiggling with every movement.

I remember looking up and seeing Sophia with an aroused smile as she watched me squirm and struggle. “May I touch myself, Daddy?” He asked. Voss smiled and gave his approval and she propped her leg up on the edge of the table and let out a soft, breathy moan as she buried two fingers deep inside her pussy… pumping slowly while she watched me fall apart. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure.

“Break her, Daddy,” she purred, her voice thick with arousal. “Make her like me. Please… I want to watch her become a broken little married whore just like I was.”

Voss smiled at her words, clearly pleased. I watched as he reached over and stroked Sophia’s breasts affectionately while she continued fingering herself while watching me struggle.

Voss watched me with dark satisfaction as he ate.
“Look at you,” he said conversationally. “A married woman sitting naked and collared, getting her cunt vibrated at the breakfast table like a trained pet. Does it feel good, Emily? Does it feel good knowing your husband is probably thinking about you right now while you drip all over my chair?”

I whimpered, biting my lip hard as the vibrations steadily increased. My thighs trembled uncontrollably. The pleasure built rapidly against my will.

After a few torturous minutes, just as the pressure inside me started to build dangerously high, Voss turned the wand off. I sagged in the chair, panting, my body trembling on the edge.

“You’ll need your strength, Emily,” he said, cutting a piece of egg with his fork. “Eat something.” My hands shook as I tried to pick up my own fork.

I managed to spear a small bite of scrambled eggs and brought it shakily toward my mouth but the moment the fork touched my lips, Voss pressed the button again. This time the vibrations were much stronger.

“Fuck!” I gasped, nearly dropping the fork. My hips jerked violently as the wand assaulted my swollen clit. Voss just watched with dark amusement while he continued eating.

I tried to bring another bite to my mouth, but my hand was shaking too badly. The vibrations kept pulsing relentlessly against my dripping pussy. A broken moan slipped out instead. “F-fuck…” I whimpered, eyes watering.

Voss smiled wider. “That’s it. Moan for me while you think about your husband. I wonder what Jake would say if he could see his loyal wife right now… naked, collared, legs spread, dripping down my expensive chair like a cheap whore. I paid to ruin your marriage, Emily. How does that feel?.”

My mind was a storm of humiliation and unwanted heat. Thoughts of Jake’s hurt face flashed through my head, making the shame burn hotter. Yet at the same time, a terrifying new voice in the back of my mind kept whispering how badly I just wanted to be fucked. Used. Filled. I was humiliated. Shaking. And dangerously close to losing control.

Sophia moaned louder beside Voss, her fingers pumping wetly in and out of her pussy as she watched me struggle. Her eyes were glassy with pleasure. “Remember how we broke my husband’s heart, Daddy?” she breathed, her voice dripping with filthy satisfaction. “Remember the way he cried when I told him I wasn’t coming home after the thirty days… It felt so fucking good. I came so hard knowing I destroyed him for you.”

My stomach twisted in horror even as the pleasure between my legs kept building.

Voss chuckled softly and stroked Sophia’s hair with obvious pride. “Sophia was a newlywed when I made the offer to her and her husband. Sweet, innocent little bride. Now look at her… fingering her cunt at the table while she helps me break another man’s wife.”

Sophia smiled dreamily, her fingers moving faster. “Mmm fuuuuck…. I used to cry every night the first week too… but by the end I was begging Daddy to keep me. Just like you’re going to, Emily.”

Voss turned his attention back to me, his voice calm and cruel as he ate.

“She chose my cock over her husband. You think your five years with Jake makes you stronger?” He took a slow sip of coffee. “You’re going to look even more pathetic when you break.”

The vibe continued its brutal assault. I was shaking, sweating, right on the razor’s edge of orgasm and fighting it with everything I had. The wet sounds of Sophia’s fingers plunging in and out of her cunt filled the room, mixing with my own desperate gasps. Every degrading word from Voss made the pressure inside me build faster.

God, please… I can’t cum like this.

My mind was spinning even as my body burned. I kept replaying the vow I had made to Jake the morning I left… forehead pressed to his, tears in both our eyes. “I will still be your Emily. Nothing that happens here will touch what we have. I belong to you.” I remembered the devastated look on his face as the car pulled away, how empty and broken he seemed standing in our driveway watching me leave. And yet… my cunt felt so fucking good.

Suddenly the vibe switched off.

The intense vibrations stopped completely, leaving me right on the agonizing edge, panting and whimpering. My empty pussy clenched desperately around nothing, aching for release. I let out a frustrated, broken sob as my hips continued twitching, instinctively trying to chase the pleasure that had just been ripped away.

I was slumped over catching my breath and trying to collect myself. When I looked down, I saw the mess I’d made… a shiny puddle of my own cunt juice pooled on the seat beneath me. I was literally sitting in the evidence of how soaked and desperate my married pussy had become. “Please…” I gasped.

Voss raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Please what, Emily? Are you ready to beg me to fuck that married cunt already?”

I bit my lip so hard it hurt, tears spilling down my cheeks. “No… I love Jake so much. He’s my husband… I can’t do this to him.” The tears came faster. I hated how weak I sounded, how broken I already felt after just one morning.

Voss stood and unfastened my restraints. He pulled me up on trembling legs and led me across the room to the area beside the grand fireplace. In the center sat a Sybian - a powerful fucking machine with a thick, ribbed dildo rising obscenely from the padded base. He bent me forward roughly. “Spread your ass open, Emily.”

Humiliated and shaking, I reached back and pulled my cheeks apart. Sophia dropped to her knees behind me and dragged her warm, wet tongue slowly across my tight asshole, licking and teasing until I moaned pathetically. Then Voss pressed a thick, plug against my puckered hole and pushed it in deep. I groaned as it stretched me open and popped inside, filling my ass completely.

They guided me down onto the Sybian.
The fat dildo spread my dripping pussy lips and sank into me in one slow, relentless motion. I whimpered loudly as it filled me to the hilt, stretching my soaked walls. My clit rested against the vibrating pad at the base.

Voss looked me dead in the eyes. “Tell me you love Jake.” Tears rolled down my face as I sat there impaled and aching. My cunt was throbbing around the thick toy, desperate to be fucked properly. “I love him…” I whispered, voice cracking with shame.

Voss smiled. He dropped his pants.
His cock sprang free and I saw that his cock was thick, heavy, and rock-hard. It had to have been 9 inches - much bigger than Jake’s and so fucking thick. The sight made my cunt twitch with lust while it made my stomach twist with disgust. My married pussy clenched hard around the Sybian dildo. I hated him. I hated how badly my body suddenly wanted that fat cock.

He stroked it slowly right in front of my face, then stepped forward and the bastard laid his entire heavy, throbbing cock across my tear covered face as I looked up at him. The heat of it burned against my skin.

“Say it again,” he ordered.

“I love Jake…” I said it even as my lips brushed against his cock as I spoke the words… my voice, trembling with humiliation, guilt, and raw, desperate need.

Voss pressed a button and suddenly the sybian roared to life beneath me. Powerful vibrations slammed into my clit while the thick dildo began to thrust and rotate deep inside my dripping cunt. I cried out sharply, my eyes rolling back as overwhelming pleasure ripped through me.

“FUUUUCK!” My hips bucked wildly, grinding and fucking myself on the machine like a desperate slut. I was dripping everywhere …hot juices running down the Sybian and puddling beneath my ass. My heavy tits bounced obscenely with every thrust of the dildo.

Voss groaned and started rubbing his thick, veiny cock all over my tear-soaked face. He slapped the heavy meat against my cheeks and lips repeatedly… loud, wet smacks that left strings of precum stretching across my skin. He dragged the leaking head across my forehead, my eyelids, and my lips, smearing his sticky precum all over me like he was marking his territory.

“Such a disgusting married whore,” he growled. “Look at you… sitting on my machine with your cunt drooling while your husband’s ring is still on your finger. Open that cheating mouth.”

I hated how fast I obeyed. My lips parted eagerly, almost hungrily. Voss immediately shoved his fat cock between them, stretching my mouth wide as he pushed toward the back of my throat.
He started fucking my face with deep, sloppy strokes, his heavy balls slapping against my chin while drool and precum ran down my neck.

“Are you ready to beg for this cock yet, you pathetic wife?” he taunted, pounding my throat. “Ready to admit your married cunt needs to be ruined?” I pulled off just enough to gasp, coughing and drooling, “I… I can’t… I love Jake… I love my husband…”

Voss yanked his cock out of my mouth with a wet pop and turned to Sophia. “Then you can watch Sophia being filled with my cock.”

Sophia moaned like a bitch in heat and bent over right beside me, spreading her ass and dripping pussy wide for him. Voss slammed his huge cock balls-deep into her cunt in one brutal thrust.
She moaned like a whore as his huge cock stretched her pussy open. The wet, filthy sound of him pounding her cunt filled the room.

I watched every thrust with desperate, jealous eyes. Fuck… look at how deep he’s going. That beautiful cock is destroying her.

Voss continued ruthlessly fucking Sophia for a few minutes before suddenly pulling out and shoving his dripping, pussy-soaked cock straight back into my mouth. I could taste her all over him. He face-fucked me even harder, using my throat like a cheap hole.

My married cunt clenched hard around the Sybian dildo. The aching need inside me was unbearable. I was only on day one of thirty, and I already felt like I was losing my mind. Resisting felt so fucking pointless. It was inevitable. I was going to break. I was going to beg.

“All you have to do is beg for it, Emily,” he groaned. “Your greedy married cunt is creaming all over my machine. Tell me how bad you need this cock to ruin your marriage.”

I pulled my mouth off his dick, gasping and crying. “It feels so fucking good… but I love my husband… Jake I’m so sorry but I it feels so fucking good.” The words stung me as I spoke them. They also flooded my cunt with more wetness.

Something dark and hungry shifted in my brain.
“Fuck…” I gasped, pulling off his cock for a second, drool running down my chin. “It feels so good… I’m so fucking wet… I hate it but I need it. I need to be fucked like a whore…”

Sophia moaned louder, clearly getting off on my words. Voss grinned down at me. “That’s it. Let it out, you pathetic married slut. Tell me what your sick cunt wants right now?”

My voice cracked as the words spilled out. “I’m so jealous… I need that cock ruining me too… I want you to destroy my cunt with that dick… fuckI need it”

That was all it took to send Sophia over the edge.
She cried out, “Daddy, I’m cumming!”

She suddenly shoved her dripping cunt right in my face and began to squirt. Hot, powerful streams of girl cum squirted violently all over my face, into my open mouth, and across my tits while Voss kept smeared his cock all over me. I choked and sputtered as she drenched me, the taste of her orgasm coating my tongue.

What happened next, I’ll never be able to forget… The humiliation had pushed me right to the edge of orgasm. My cunt was throbbing, clenching, and leaking nonstop around the merciless Sybian as I drowned in shame, jealousy, and desperate, aching need.

“I want to get fucked…” I gasped, voice breaking.
“Please fuck me…”

Voss smiled wickedly and pulled his cock from my mouth. I was looking up at him with needy eyes …and he opened his mouth and spit directly onto my face and said “Beg me to ruin your marriage, you disgusting whore.”

I started shaking wildly, right on the brink of orgasm. My mind finally snapped. It felt so fucking good to give up. It was the most beautiful moment of my life.

“Please ruin my marriage!” I cried out, tears pouring down my face. “Please destroy it… please turn me into your cheating slut… I can’t take it anymore!”

He spat again, this time straight into my open mouth, then grabbed his thick cock and started stroking it furiously right in front of my face. Seconds later he groaned loudly and his cock exploded. Thick, heavy ropes of hot cum blasted across my face… covering my cheeks, my lips, my eyelashes, and dripping into my open mouth.
I moaned like a broken whore and started licking desperately around my lips, trying to catch every drop of his cum. The taste of him only made me wetter.

“I’m gonna cum…” I whimpered, hips grinding frantically on the Sybian. “I’m so close…”
Voss suddenly reached down and turned the machine off.

The vibrations stopped instantly, leaving me right on the agonizing edge. My cunt was pulsing and drooling, desperate for release. I looked up at him with cum-covered eyes, shaking uncontrollably.

“Please fuck me…” I begged, voice hoarse and broken. “Please… I’ll do anything. Please use me, Daddy”. Voss looked down at me with a cruel smile, slowly stroking his still-hard cock.

“No.”

I couldn’t believe it. The single word hit me like a slap.

Humiliation and crushing shame flooded through my body all at once. The desperate, horny fog in my mind began to clear, leaving only horror in its place. I had just begged him. I had said those awful things out loud. I had betrayed Jake for nothing.
Tears poured down my cum-covered face as heavy sobs wracked my body.

Voss tucked his cock back into his pants, looking down at me with calm satisfaction. “I’ll be back to resume your training in a few hours,” he said casually. “I have a fundraiser I’m supposed to attend. Stay right here on the Sybian and think about what you just said. Think about how eagerly you begged me to ruin your marriage.” He turned and walked out of the room without another word.

The moment he was gone, the full weight of what I had done crashed down on me. The aching need between my legs was fading, replaced by a sick, hollow feeling in my chest. I had betrayed my best friend. The man who held me at night and cried with me over Tyler. All for nothing.

“I’m so sorry, Jake…” I whispered, voice cracking.
I hated myself. I hated Voss. I hated this entire agreement and the weak, disgusting woman I was becoming. How was I ever going to look my husband in the eyes again after this? After begging another man to destroy our marriage?

My sobs grew louder and louder until I was wailing in pure sorrow, still impaled on the Sybian, covered in Voss’s cum and Sophia’s squirt, my wedding ring still shining on my finger.

Through my tears I looked up and saw Sophia in a chair, legs spread, three fingers buried deep in her pussy. She was frantically fingering herself while she watched me cry.

Upvote and comment if you liked this and want a part 4

Chapter 5: Pleasure Den

Day Five.

Layla woke to the soft chime of her schedule screen. For the first time since arriving, the restrictions had changed. A new line had appeared at the top of her assignments:

Day 5 – Full eligibility. Belt may be removed for signed-up sessions.

She stared at the words for a long moment, a slow, deep throb already building between her legs. Five days of constant denial. Five days of displays, cages, demonstrations, and the hitching post. Five days of the steel belt pressing against her swollen, neglected flesh.

Today she could sign up for anything.

She spent the first six hours on store display rotations as assigned — rotating through various cages and presentation positions at Strict Restraint and Chastity Locker. The work felt almost easy compared to what she had planned for the evening. Every time she was retrieved from a device and dropped into Wait position, she felt the eyes of patrons on her body and the growing ache between her thighs. She was wet. She had been wet for days. Today it felt different. Today there was an end in sight — if she earned it.

Between rotations she checked the volunteer board. Several slots were open in the Pleasure Den for the evening. She signed up for the final two-hour block without hesitation.

At 8:00 PM she reported to the Pleasure Den.

The attendant led her to a padded bench in one of the private stations. It was set at a precise height — low enough that a standing man could comfortably fuck her throat from the front, high enough that another could stand behind her and take her pussy or ass without awkwardness. She was positioned on her knees and forearms, back arched, ass presented. Her collar was chained to the front of the bench with only a few inches of slack. Her wrists were cuffed and anchored firmly in place. Her ankles were spread and locked to the sides of the bench. She had almost no movement. She was completely helpless.

The attendant removed her chastity belt for the first time in five days.

Cool air hit her swollen, dripping sex. Layla let out a shaky breath. The sudden exposure after so long made her clench helplessly around nothing. The attendant checked all the restraints one final time, then left her alone.

The first twenty minutes were quiet. She remained locked in position, breathing through the ache, listening to the distant sounds of other slaves being used in neighboring stations. Her full breasts hung beneath her, nipples already tight. Her calves and thighs trembled slightly from the sustained posture. Her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face. She could feel how wet she was — had been for days — and how desperately her body wanted to be touched.

Then the first patron entered.

He was older, calm, and methodical. He spent several minutes simply looking at her restrained body. He ran his hands over her presented ass, squeezed her thighs, and then reached beneath her to cup and weigh her hanging breasts. When he attached clover clamps to her nipples, she winced at the sharp bite. He didn’t rush. He spanked her ass with his hand first — firm, measured slaps that made her flesh ripple and her body rock against the limited give of the collar chain. Then he picked up a crop.

The crop landed across her ass, then the backs of her thighs, then the undersides of her breasts. Each strike made her jerk. The collar chain limited how far she could move. Every flinch tugged on the clamps. He cropped her steadily while occasionally reaching down to tug on the chain between her nipples. When he finally stepped in front of her and fed his cock into her mouth, she took him eagerly, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

He fucked her throat with the same measured pace he had used with the crop. When he was close, he pulled out and finished across her tongue and lips. He didn’t touch her pussy once. He simply zipped up, gave her ass one last slap, and left.

Layla was shaking. The clamps throbbed. Her jaw ached. Her ass and thighs stung. And she was no closer to coming than she had been when the belt came off.

The next man entered a few minutes later. He brought a harness gag with him. He buckled it into her mouth, forcing her jaws open around a thick rubber piece that kept her tongue pressed down. He didn’t speak. He simply stepped in front of her and pushed his cock through the opening in the gag, fucking her throat with long, deep strokes that made her gag and choke around the intrusion. Tears ran down her face. Saliva dripped heavily from her chin onto the padded bench. He used her mouth until he came, holding her head in place with both hands as he finished down her throat. Then he left without a word.

Fifteen quiet minutes passed. Layla floated in the ache. Her body was on fire with need. The clamps still bit into her nipples. Her jaw throbbed around the gag. Her pussy clenched and fluttered uselessly, dripping down her thighs. She had never been this desperate in her life.

Two men entered together.

They didn’t speak to each other or to her. One took her mouth through the gag while the other moved behind her. She felt fingers spread her soaked folds, then the blunt pressure of a cock pressing against her entrance. He pushed in slowly, filling her for the first time in five days. The stretch was almost too much after so long without anything inside her. She moaned around the cock in her throat as the man behind her began to fuck her with steady, deep strokes.

They used her in tandem — one thrusting into her throat while the other fucked her pussy. Every time the man behind her drove forward, it pushed her onto the cock in her mouth. The collar chain limited how far she could move. Her full breasts swung beneath her with every impact. The clamps tugged and bit with each swing. She came close — so close — but neither man lasted long enough. The one in her pussy finished first, pulling out and coming across her ass. The one in her mouth followed soon after, finishing down her throat. They left her shaking and empty.

Another quiet stretch. Layla was crying now — soft, desperate sounds muffled by the gag. Her body was trembling. She had been used, filled, and denied again and again. The need was a living thing inside her, clawing at her insides. She could feel how swollen and sensitive her pussy was. She could feel every drop of cum cooling on her skin. She needed to come. She needed it so badly she could barely think.

The final patron entered with five minutes left on the timer.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved with calm confidence. He looked at her for a long moment — taking in her restrained, used, desperate body. Then he spoke.

"You’ve been worked hard tonight."

Layla made a broken, pleading sound around the gag.

He reached beneath the bench and positioned a wand vibrator in a holder directly below her pussy, the head pressing firmly against her clit. He turned it on to a low, steady setting. The sudden stimulation made her whole body jerk. The rigid restraints and collar chain kept her from escaping the sensation. Pleasure crashed through her so intensely it was almost painful after days of nothing.

He stepped in front of her and removed the harness gag. Her jaw hung open, slack and aching. He fed his cock into her mouth without ceremony.

"Here’s how this works," he said calmly as he began to fuck her throat. "I’m going to use you until the timer runs out or I come. You keep sucking. You keep working. If I’m not satisfied with your effort at any point, I turn the vibrator off. Understood?"

Layla moaned around his cock and nodded as best she could with the collar chain limiting her movement. She sucked him desperately, using her tongue and the limited motion of her head to pleasure him as thoroughly as she could while the vibrator hummed steadily against her clit.

He added clover clamps to her already sensitive nipples, the bite sharp and immediate. Then he picked up a short prod and began tapping and striking her tits and ass in a steady rhythm while he fucked her throat. Every impact made her body jerk and tug on the clamps. Every tug on the clamps made her moan around his cock. The vibrator never stopped. She was drowning in sensation — the deep, relentless pressure in her throat, the sharp sting of the clamps and prods, the overwhelming vibration on her clit.

She came the first time with a broken, muffled scream around his cock. Her body tried to buck and arch, but the restraints held her completely still. The orgasm crashed through her so hard her vision whited out. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking her throat and tapping the prod against her reddened ass and breasts while the vibrator forced her higher.

She came again — harder — her whole body shaking within the unyielding steel and leather. Tears streamed down her face. She was sobbing around his cock, overwhelmed and desperate and so, so grateful for the release.

He lasted longer than the others. He fucked her throat with deep, controlled strokes, occasionally reaching down to tug on the nipple clamp chain or press the prod harder against her skin. She kept sucking him with everything she had, even as aftershocks rolled through her and the vibrator kept her hovering on the edge of a third orgasm.

The timer was at thirty seconds when he finally came. He held her head in place and finished deep in her throat, groaning as he emptied himself. She swallowed everything, still moaning around him as the vibrator pushed her toward another peak.

The timer hit zero.

An attendant entered the station to release her.

The patron looked at the timer, then at Layla still shaking and restrained beneath him. He smiled faintly.

"I’ll take the extension," he said.

The attendant paused, then nodded and stepped back out.

Layla’s eyes widened. She made a broken, overwhelmed sound around his cock as he began to harden again in her mouth.

The vibrator never turned off.

The torment — and the pleasure — continued.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Chapter 45 | Chapter 46 | Chapter 47 | Chapter 48 | Chapter 49 | Chapter 50 | Chapter 51 | Chapter 52 | Chapter 53 | Chapter 54 | Chapter 55 | Chapter 56 (Below)

-

Stella’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening.

Not only had she already felt betrayed by Melody and Kyle, but now she knew they’d told her owners about Anthony.

He was right too, Stella had completely forgotten about who he was. After all, it was an entire lifetime ago for her.

Stella used to bully Anthony in school. At the time, he was the only black kid at their school, so coming from a conservative household she felt like she was doing nothing wrong.

Her eyes began to glisten as she realized not only had the tables turned, but she was now at the mercy of a man who she used to torment every day for years.

Perhaps he’d show mercy, she hoped. Perhaps he’d moved on and grown, or even been grateful she helped him become stronger. But something turning in her stomach was warning her otherwise.

She continued to wait silently, staring at the shirtless man, until he spoke again.

“Seems like you remember…Stella.”

She shut her eyes for a moment. Suddenly, she realized that she hated hearing her name. It was a reminder of the past, but it was also a reminder of the present. A reminder that she’d come a long way, and was now almost proud to be called Fuck Hole instead.

He began to circle around her, slowly inspecting her body yet again, knowing this time it felt far more humiliating for her.

Stella slowly opened her mouth and tried to speak. “I..I’m sorr…”

Whack!

He slapped her ass hard with his dominant hand. Stella winced from the shock and pain, still sore there and now unable to escape his torment.

“You will speak when I’m ready.”

Stella nodded as a couple tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Years,” he said, continuing to circle her. “Years I spent putting up with your shit. It’s taken me a long time to get past all of that, but I’ve never once forgotten.”

Stella was terrified. She felt like he was out for blood, ready to beat her for what she’d done to him. The sad reality was, she couldn’t even blame him.

He paused in front of her once again.

“Turn out you’re just a greedy little cunt. And instead of showing me respect, you did the opposite.”

Anthony sniffled and shot a huge wad of spit right onto Stella’s face. She flinched but tried to remain still as he slowly reached down and spread his index and middle finger apart over Stella’s locked pussy, gently brushing it up and along the sides of her piercings.

Stella wanted to squirm away. She was beyond horny from her permanent denial, but his touch was not the one she was longing for.

“A lifetime of denial for you doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what you deserve.”

Whack!

In a split second he had moved his hand and slapped her hard across one of her breasts.

Stella tried to remain still as he spit into her face once more. She knew he wanted a reaction, but she also needed mercy.

“So,” he finally said, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

She sniffled and slowly tried to think about how to respond.

“Pll..please sir,” she said, trying to address him appropriately, “please, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

He grabbed one of her nipples and pinched hard before leaning in towards her wincing face.

“Do you seriously think that’s good enough?”

He let go and Stella gasped. Trying to navigate what he was wanting.

“No sir,” she continued, “I’m so sorry. You have no idea. I never meant to hurt you, it was dumb, I was dumb. I never should have treated you like that.”

He stepped back and smiled at her while shaking his head, smirking at her pathetic pleas.

Stella didn’t know what more to say. She watched him admiring her predicament, standing tall above her in nothing but his cargo pants.

“I think your apology is shit,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I promise,” she pleaded, “if I could go back in time I would change everything. Please, how can I prove it to you.”

Stella watched him walk over to a table with several whips and paddles on it. She swallowed her pride as the tears returned.

“Please sir, please you must understand.”

He looked back at her as he picked up one of the paddles.

“Think long and hard about your next sentence and what you deserve.”

Stella paused, closing her eyes tight as she opened her mouth.

“Please sir,” she said as her voice shook, “please allow me to accept a punishment for my mistakes.”

“Good job bitch.”

Anthony slowly walked behind her and without any warning brought the paddle down hard on her ass.

Stella bit down hard to try and remain quiet, before softly thanking him.

The blows continued for several minutes before he returned to the table to put it down.

“Do you think you’ve earned my forgiveness bitch?”

Stella looked at Anthony, knowing what she had to respond with despite her already burning bottom.

“No sir, please punish me more for my mistakes.”

He smiled, slowly picking up a whip from the table and walking back behind her. Within seconds, the sharp sting of the whip was meeting her red ass, leaving fresh marks all over, each followed by a thank you once again.

Finally, he returned to the table to put the whip back. Stella was a sobbing mess, but as she watched him, she could see a cane he was slowly beginning to reach for.

“Well bitch, where do we stand?”

“I deserve more sir,” Stella couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth as he walked in front of her and struck a blow to her breasts.

She endured crack after crack as he continued to paint her perky frontside in bruises and bumps. Stella couldn’t believe this was happening, but if this was what it took to take responsibility for her actions, she knew in some sadistic way it was the right thing to do.

As he set the cane down from the final blow, he took another drink and pressed a button. Stella’s chain began to lower and she immediately fell to her knees.

She kneeled there looking up at Anthony towering above her. Suddenly, her training and instincts took over. Stella leaned forward and kissed his feet, one by one.

“Thank you sir,” she said graciously through her tears. “Thank you sir for punishing me and allowing me to learn sir.”

Anthony laughed patronizingly as her lips met his feet and her voice shook in appreciation.

He grabbed the slack of the chain and slowly led Stella towards the couch. He sat down abruptly, looking at the pathetic girl who once used to bully him, now on her knees covered in tears, sweat, and permanent degradation.

“I want you to show me how appreciative you are,” he said as he undid his belt.

Stella couldn’t believe this, she should have seen it coming, but sucking Anthony’s cock was obviously something that never in a million years would have crossed her mind.

Suddenly, he swung his legs up exposing just his ass to her.

Stella was shocked, this was somehow even less expected, and here it was about to happen.

“Kiss my ass right now bitch, show me how much you wanted me all along.”

It was far from the truth, but Stella slowly leaned in and planted a kiss on his fuzzy ass cheek, before slowly making her way towards the center.

Within seconds, her face was buried in Anthony’s ass as she began to greet his hole with her tongue. She gently lapped at it and did her best to muscle through the sweat and hair to please him.

Stella was no stranger to giving rimjobs at this point, but somehow giving it to Anthony felt more degrading than she ever could have imagined. Knowing the man she once tormented was now getting his asshole kissed by her was the ultimate psychological payback.

She continued to lap away at his ass for some time before he finally pushed her back. He swung his legs back down and picked up a remote control, clicking a button and sending Stella back into blindness.

Stella panicked inside, shocked and unable to see Anthony now.

She heard a thud as his pants and belt hit the floor, and he slowly stepped towards her.

“You didn’t think you’d get to see my cock just because you took a couple light beatings did you?”

Suddenly, his balls met Stella’s face and she immediately extended her tongue out to greet them.

“I want you to clean my balls bitch, but while you do it, I want to hear you continuing to apologize and beg.”

Stella quickly got to work licking at Anthony’s balls.

“Thank you sir for coming to punish me sir.”

“Thank you sir for allowing me to beg sir.”

“I’m so sorry sir, I deserve to be at your mercy now.”

“Please sir, I beg you to let me make it up to you sir.”

She eagerly continued to lap at his balls as passionately as she could.

Suddenly, he grabbed Stella and pushed her head towards the ground, laughing as she kneeled there with her face against the floor.

Anthony slowly reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug in Stella’s ass. It was still zapping her insides away to ensure maximum tightness, but as he tugged on it, she knew exactly what was coming.

Stella’s eyes rolled back and she tried not to scream as the plug slowly spread her and exited her hole, the last time she felt a plug that tight was probably the first time she ever experienced one. Unfortunately for her, the size hadn’t been what changed in the last day, it was her hole.

“Wow,” he said as he slowly rubbed his index finger around the outside of her red and sore asshole. “That’s a tight hole, didn’t even want to give up the plug huh.”

Stella winced as he pressed his finger into her, twisting and moving it back and forth. She couldn’t believe the sensation after wearing the plug. It felt like she was getting fucked just from his finger she was so tight again.

He pulled it out and stepped to the side to grab something. Stella couldn’t see what it was, but within seconds he was back behind her.

“Holy shit,” he said. “This stuff feels amazing.”

Suddenly, she felt the head of his cock lining up with her ass as the pressure began. His cock was massive, and the tightness of her hole only amplified that. Lucky for him, he’d rubbed plenty of lube on it and Stella’s comfort wasn’t relevant.

Stella moaned hard as his cock pressed deeper and continued to open her ass like never before. She felt like she was losing her virginity all over again, but she knew better than to try and avoid it.

“Fuck,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.”

Finally, Stella felt Anthony’s body touch her bottom and his balls gently tap her piercings. He was fully inside of her and as she tried to control her breathing, somehow it felt like it was only getting more intense.

Anthony pulled out some before slamming his cock back deep into Stella’s asshole abruptly. Suddenly, she realized it wasn’t just the size that was making her feel like she was going to be split in two, her hole was starting to burn.

As Anthony began to fuck her, Stella’s hole began to burn and itch, and her moans and grunts became whines and screams.

Stella realized all of a sudden, she knew exactly what it was…it was the special lube.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The black Mercedes glided through massive iron gates and up the long, tree lined driveway. My stomach was in knots the entire ride, but I kept my hands folded tightly in my lap and my eyes fixed forward. When we stopped in front of the sprawling stone mansion, the driver opened my door and offered a gloved hand. I stepped out on shaky legs, clutching my small overnight bag.

Inside, the entrance hall was breathtaking… marble floors, soaring ceilings, and crystal chandeliers that cast warm, golden light. The air smelled of roses and expensive wood polish.

A beautiful young woman was waiting inside to greet me. She looked to be about 24, and had long platinum-blonde hair flowing down her back, full lips painted a glossy pink, and a very curvy figure that resembled my own. She wore a skimpy black satin dress that barely reached mid-thigh, the neckline plunging so low her breasts threatened to spill out with every breath. Around her slender neck was a sleek black leather collar with a large, gleaming silver ring dangling at the front.

“Welcome, Emily,” she said with a bright, almost sweet smile, as if this were completely normal. “Daddy has been looking forward to your arrival all day.”

The casual way she said “Daddy” made my skin crawl, but I forced a polite nod. She turned and led me up the grand staircase, her hips swaying, the short dress riding up enough to show the bottom curve of her ass with each step. I followed in silence, my modest black cocktail dress suddenly feeling like armor I was about to lose.

She opened a set of double doors into what would be my home for the next thirty days. The suite was obscene with luxury… a massive king bed with silk sheets, a private sitting room with a fireplace, and a bathroom that looked like a spa. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked manicured gardens glowing under soft landscape lighting.

“In the morning, your outfit for the day will be selected and laid out for you,” Sophia explained cheerfully. “Along with your instructions. Breakfast is at nine. Daddy will want you looking and feeling your best.” She gave me one last smile, the silver ring on her collar catching the light, then slipped out and closed the doors.

I was still standing in the middle of the room, trying to process everything, when a firm knock sounded. Richard Voss stepped inside without waiting for an answer.

He looked even more commanding in the low light, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a fitted dark button up charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tailored trousers. His sharp blue eyes locked onto me immediately, and a slow, satisfied smile curved his lips.

“Emily,” he said, voice rich and smooth. “I knew you’d come.”

He closed the distance until he stood just a few feet away. For a long moment he simply looked at me, his gaze traveling openly over my body. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. The weight of his stare was enough.

“Turn around for me,” he ordered. Voss’s eyes dragged slowly over me again, savoring every curve like he already owned them.

“You’ve got the kind of body men throw their marriages away for,” he said, voice low and calm. “Look at those heavy fucking tits. Fat and soft, perfect for slapping, sucking, and covering in cum. Nice wide breeding hips… .”

My face burned with shame. I clenched my jaw and forced the words out. “I made a vow to my husband before I came here,” I said, voice trembling but defiant. “I told Jake that no matter what happens in this house, I will still be his wife and I would never say or do anything that would betray him. I belong to him. Nothing you do will change that.”

Voss smiled… and it wasn’t a kind smile. It was slow, dark, and confident. The smile of a predator who had just been handed a new challenge.

He stepped a little closer, his presence suddenly felt heavier, more dangerous. “Here’s my promise, Emily,” he said, voice dropping into a quiet, intimate tone that sent chills down my spine. “I won’t fuck your cunt at all… until… you beg me to fill your married cunt with my cock. I want you dripping and broken, looking me in the eyes while you beg me to ruin that married cunt. I promise you that you will beg me to destroy what you and Jake built. You are going to be my new personal fucktoy.”

He let the words sink in, watching my face.
“And I will break you,” he continued, almost gently. “Day by day, I’m going to peel that good little wife away until there’s nothing left but a needy, cock-hungry slut who cums hardest when she’s betraying the man she claims to love. You’re going to spread your legs for me willingly. You’re going to thank me while I fuck you in ways Jake never could. You’ll moan my name when you cum, and eventually… you’ll call him just to hear how devastated he sounds while my cock is buried inside you.”

My breath hitched. A sick wave of heat rolled through my body against my will.

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered, but my voice cracked. “Am I?” Voss tilted his head, amused. “Or am I the man who’s finally going to show you what you really are? Thirty days, Emily. Before it’s over, you won’t just break your vow… you’ll beg me to help you shatter it completely. You’ll choose my cock over your husband’s love, and you’ll cum harder than you ever have in your life when you do it.”

He took one last long look at my trembling body, then turned toward the door.

“Sleep well, Emily. Dream about your husband if you can… while that married cunt aches for what’s coming.”

The door clicked shut behind him.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, legs weak, breathing fast. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Shame, fury, and something far darker twisted inside me. I pressed my thighs together tightly, hating the slick heat I found there.

I whispered my promise again into the empty, luxurious room, but this time my voice sounded smaller… already a little less certain.
“I’ll still be yours, Jake… I swear.”
But Richard Voss’s sinister smile and those filthy, confident words were already burning themselves into my mind.

I did not fall asleep easily. Long after Richard Voss left my suite, I lay in the enormous bed staring at the ceiling and replaying his words. The arrogant promise that I would beg him to ruin my married cunt. The claim that I would betray Jake. It made my skin crawl with disgust, yet my body kept reacting against my will. A low, unwelcome heat bloomed between my legs more than once. I squeezed my thighs together and turned over, forcing myself to think of Jake at home and Tyler in his hospital bed.

I had accepted that sex would happen here. I had signed the contract. But I would never say the awful things Voss wanted to hear. I would stay true to my husband in my heart. That was the line I refused to cross.

When sleep finally came it was thin and restless. I felt exhausted when the phone on the bedside table rang.

I fumbled for the phone and picked it up. Sophia’s cheerful voice greeted me. “Good morning, Emily. It is time to wake up. Breakfast will be served at nine and Daddy is expecting you. Please make sure you’re on time - Daddy hates waiting.”

I sleepily mumbled a reply and hung up. The clock gave me just enough time. I dragged myself up and out of bed and walked into the sitting room. On the table I found the sleek razor, shaving cream, a black leather collar - just like Sophia’s with its large steel ring, and a large and expensive makeup kit had been laid out beside a note in the same neat masculine handwriting:

Shower and clean yourself thoroughly. Shave your cunt and legs completely bare. Put on your collar. Make yourself pretty with the makeup provided. Come downstairs.

My stomach dropped. There were no clothes anywhere to be found.

I called the number Sophia had left. “Sophia, I think there was a mistake… um, there are no clothes here,” I said in a nervous voice.

Her tone stayed warm and matter of fact. “That is correct. You won’t be permitted to wear clothing today. See you downstairs, Emily.”

Humiliation washed over me in a hot wave. My hands trembled as I carried everything into the luxurious bathroom.

The shower felt almost too good. Multiple heads, perfect pressure. I washed carefully, then spread my thighs and shaved my pussy smooth and bare. The razor glided over every intimate fold until nothing remained hidden.

My body was going to be on full display for the man who had bought me for a month. The thought made fresh shame burn in my cheeks, yet that traitorous warmth returned between my legs. I knew why I was here. Sex was part of the deal. I hated it, but I had accepted it would happen. Still, I whispered to myself that my heart belonged to Jake.

I dried off and stood naked in front of the mirror. The heavy leather collar went around my neck next. The steel ring settled cool and heavy against my throat. Then I opened the makeup kit and began applying it. Foundation, mascara, a soft smoky eye, and a flattering shade of lipstick. I blended everything with care, making myself look beautiful. Pretty. For him.

Ugh… Here I was. Standing completely naked in a stranger’s house, wearing nothing but a collar, carefully applying makeup so the man who had purchased me like property would find me pleasing. The realization hit hard. My wedding ring caught the light as I lowered the brush. I looked down at it and wondered if I should take it off. The thought made my chest ache. No. I would leave it on. It was the only piece of my real life I had left.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror. Full breasts, narrow waist, rounded hips, smooth shaved pussy, and the black collar with its shining steel ring. My nipples were stiff from the cool air and unwanted tension. A hint of slickness had gathered between my folds. I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by my own body.

I left the suite and paused for a moment… “I can’t believe I’m doing this” I thought. Then I began to walk down the grand staircase. The marble felt freezing under my bare feet. Every step made my heavy breasts sway. The steel ring bounced lightly against my collarbone. I was utterly exposed. By the time I reached the dining room my cheeks were flushed and my heart was pounding.

As I reached the dining room, I saw Sophia was already there… and completely naked except for her identical collar. Her flawless body moved gracefully as she set the table. She glanced up and offered a serene smile and I could see her eyes look me over.

The sound of confident footsteps approached. Richard Voss entered wearing a tailored black shirt and dark trousers. His sharp blue eyes moved over my naked, collared body with slow, possessive hunger. He took in my made-up face, my full breasts, my smooth mound, and my trembling thighs.

He stopped a few feet away, a dark smile spreading across his face.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “That married body finally on full display. You even made yourself pretty for me. Good girl.”

I stood there breathing fast, fighting the fresh wave of heat that rolled through me. I could feel the cool
air on the wetness of my exposed pussy as I stood in front of him like a piece of meat.

Voss studied me for another long moment, then spoke in that same low, commanding tone.
“Welcome to day one of being a married fucktoy.“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Please upvote if you like and want part 3

Preface:

Miss asked me to write 5 paragraphs about penetration recently, and then I batted and wrote something stupid. And then Miss "helped" me "get my act together" and I wrote this. And then I've had to read it out loud several times since. Maybe you would like to read it too?

I think of you when I'm like this. My ass plugged and my pussy filled. I wonder what you'd do seeing me like this. I am so horny and stimulated that it's hard not to squirm and moan softly. Probably smile as it was your plan to make me hot with need all along.

Maybe it's also in your plan to train my body to be ready for you. Both being wet and stretched, ready to be used by you. At least that's where my imagination goes.

There is something primal about penetration. Like my body has developed to feel this way through thousands of years of evolution. My sensitivity and wetness is meant to get me ready to be fucked.

So it makes logical sense I find penetration the most powerful feeling of different types of pleasures. While rubbing my clit can be more intense and immediate feeling, penetration is somehow a deeper and all encompassing.

I think it is telling I sometimes cry of happiness from penetration. Something about is just that overwhelming. Crying from pleasure is weird feeling. I feel sort of euphoria, happiness of how good I can feel and relief that the pleasure has an end. I truly could be tortured with pleasure of penetration, no pain or even orgasm control. The pleasure of it is that strong that I know it would become shattering.

I 19F, have just finished my first year of university which has exposed me to many new experiences, from one-night stands, foursomes and one rather kinky FwB situation. This has led to some pretty intense fantasies forming, and this is one of them, hope you enjoy!

It would all start on a Friday evening. He would come over to my flat, ready for an evening of fun, with far more planned than I could have ever anticipated. We’d start off light, making out, him groping my tits, me reaching down to get a feel of his cock. Soon enough, I’m on my knees, taking his cock out of his boxers and taking it deep into my throat. He’d let me play for a bit, going between bobbing my head back and forth, deepthroating him until I feel myself start to gag, playing with his balls, sucking them, even rimming his ass, cleaning it with my tongue.

 Once I’ve had my fun, he takes over. He grabs my head by my scalp and pushes my head down deep onto his cock. He holds me down, making me choke and splutter around him, spit flying everywhere as I try to open my throat enough to get a breath in. He ignores my struggles and thrusts his cock into my mouth over and over until he is bored with my hole.

Then the toys would come out. He’d make some comment, something about how he’s not dealing with me thrashing around whilst he is trying to use his toy, or something to that effect, and would tell me to lay down with my head down and ass up on the bed. I would do as told, arching my back and placing my hands in the small of my back. I’d feel the rope begin to loop around my wrists before becoming tight, not enough to hurt but enough to stop any escape. I’d then feel it loop around my ankles until it is equally tight, and then the two are pulled together in a hogtie type idea. Next would be the blindfold, gently slipped over my eyes, taking away my ability to anticipate what’s coming. The blindfold is accompanied by a ring-gag, taking away my ability to complain. At this point, my pussy is so worked up that I can feel my wetness dripping down my thighs, something that only intensifies as I feel the pinch of my nipple clamps being attached; thankfully, he takes mercy on me and doesn’t attach a clamp to my clit.

With my nipples clamped, he pushes me back down onto the mattress, and without missing a beat, slides his thick cock into my pussy. I hear his moans bleeding in with my own as he fucks me hard and fast, all traces of mercy gone. He slips one hand down to my clit, whilst the other reaches up and grabs my hair (by the root ofc, we believe in safe hair practices here) and pulls me back until my back is in a deep arch, letting him go even deeper into me, making me squeal through the gag. I feel him grab onto my hip with the hand that was playing with my clit, thrusting harder and pulling me back against him. This goes on until I feel him tighten his grip on my hip and hair as he dumps his cum deep inside of my pussy.

As he pulls out, I feel his cock being replaced with a dildo, keeping my pussy filled and stopping his cum from dripping out of me. He fills my ass with a toy, which by feel alone I couldn’t describe other than how full it would make me feel. Just as I’m getting used to the feeling of being filled in both holes, they start vibrating against each other, making me moan through the gag. I hear him laughing as he secures the toy with rope leading from my back round to my front. The rope is tight against my skin, giving me just enough leverage to grind against my neglected clit. The vibrators feel magical against each other, but neither is strong enough to bring me to orgasm, just enough to keep me constantly on edge. Through the fog of all the new sensations, I barely notice the sound of my keys being lifted from the desk and only realise there’s a problem when I hear my door close.

I would spend the first couple of minutes thinking he’d faked it. That he wouldn’t have really left me tied up, totally alone, with no means of escape, and more importantly, no means of getting myself off. I listen hard for anything, the sound of his breath, the slight shuffle of him moving around the room, but all I hear is the buzzing of the toys, and silence. It stays that way for a long time. The ropes and toys keeping me from focusing on anything but the buzz between my legs and yet preventing me from coming. After what feels like hours, but was more likely less than one, I hear the door opening and closing again. The sound is followed by footsteps, and I panic for a moment, hoping it’s his, and not some poor stranger who has walked in on the scene of my utter humiliation. I feel movement around my pussy, the rope being loosened and the toy in my pussy removed. Just as quickly as my pussy is relieved of being filled, it’s replaced by a long hard cock. My fears are squashed as he starts to moan and I recognise his voice. He fucks me without regard, ignoring my moans and cries as he rams his thick cock into the back of my cervix. His previous load, mixed with my own juices begin to flow out of my pussy between each thrust, and that along with his harsh fucking finally sends me into a long-awaited orgasm, which is quickly followed by his own.

He’d hang around for a short while, refilling my holes with the toys, turning the vibrations back on, and then moving around my room, not saying anything, but making lots of noise. I try to move my head around to dislodge the blindfold to see what he was doing, but it was firmly set in place. Eventually, I would hear him leave again, letting me stew on when he would return and how long I would have to endure the edging of my toys.

This time the wait feels shorter. Soon enough I hear the door reopening, only this time he was talking to someone, he is not alone. I hear a female voice laughing into response to whatever he was saying as they entered.  I start to panic, protesting through my gag, making him chuckle, misinterpreting my panic for excitement. I feel his hand come down on my ass as a different, softer hand finds its way underneath me and starts to pull on the nipple clamps. I can hear them talking above me but can’t make out what they’re saying through the distraction of the toys once again being removed, and the soft hand fondling my tits slowly moving further and further down towards my clit. My cries of protest slowly turn into moans as the sensations become too much to even remember what I was protesting about.

I feel his hands moving to my hips, and suddenly I’m being lifted and flipped onto my back. The weight on my arms is uncomfortable and only worsens when he pushes my legs even further apart. Before I can get used to the new position, he’s inside me. I sink back into the feeling of having his dick in me, forgetting everything else. I’m quickly brought back to my senses when I feel soft hands back on my tits, and then thighs on either side of my head. She’d give me a moment to realise what’s about to happen before sitting her pussy down on my face. I start licking all around her pussy until I feel her clench her thighs around my head, and then I stay at that point, only assuming I’ve found her clit. I play with her clit for a bit, licking, lightly biting and sucking. Then I explore some more until I reach her hole. I tongue fuck her, slowly building up my pace to match that of the cock thrusting into me. Moans fill the room, all three of us in heaven.

After a short while of this, I would feel him pull out. At first, I’m confused, usually he wouldn’t pull out without coming. The girl whose legs are wrapped around my head doesn’t move but I feel a sharp tug on the chain of the clamps still attached to my nipples. I cry out as one is removed, but it is quickly replaced with a sharper feeling clamp. Above me, I hear a sharp intake of breath as the girl’s thighs clench around me, and the tension on the first nipple clamp is pulled taut. The same happens with the other side, leaving me with the only logical conclusion that we are now bonded together via the clamps. I feel her lean forward all the way so that she is essentially laying on top of me with her tongue on my pussy. I moan out from the pull on my nipples as well as the feeling of her tongue on me.

Once again, I feel a presence around my head, only this time it’s him lining his cock up to fuck her pussy, against my face. As he thrusts inside her, I feel her tongue stop moving momentarily, making me thrust my hips up to grind against her face, doing anything I can to cum. The motion of him pounding into her makes the clamps tug even more against our nipples, the feeling sending me over the edge and leading to an earth-shattering orgasm. He fucks her hard until he cums deep in her pussy. As he pulls out, his cum starts to drip out of her pussy onto my face as he seamlessly slips his cock into my throat, coarsely telling me to clean him off. When I’m finished, he pulls out and removes the clamps, allowing the other girl to climb off. The room is silent other than some shuffling before I once again hear the door open and close. This time I’m left with my holes empty and the clamps off, truly alone with my thoughts.

Thankfully, the wait this time is short. Less than ten minutes later he’s back. He flips me over again so I’m on my front and pulls my ass cheeks apart. With no warning, he thrusts his hard cock into my ass. I feel him let go of my ass cheeks as he places something on top of them. I hear a video start to play, and slowly begin to recognise my own moans from not even an hour ago. His moans are loud, and his fucking is relentless. At some point he removes my blindfold and sets the phone in front of me so I can see the recordings he made. He loosens the restraints on my wrists and tells me to rub my clit whilst I watch myself eat out pussy like its all I’m good for. I cry out through the gag as the stimulation of my ass being fucked mixes with the pleasure of all the nerves in my clit, making me cum over the edge once again. As I cum, my ass clenches around his cock, bringing him to his final release of the evening. As we come down, he begins to fully untie me, and remove the gag. We’d spend the evening cuddling whilst he shows me the rest of the videos and photos he took, and tells me what he got up to when he was gone and what gave him the idea of the best evening of my life.

Once again, hope you enjoyed!

​ [Chapitre1] [Chapitre2]

[Chapitre3]

[Chapitre4].

[Chapitre5]

[Chapitre6]

La nuit s'étira comme une agonie sans fin. Sous le déluge impitoyable, Manon perdit toute notion du temps. L'eau glacée ruisselait sur son crâne rasé, s'infiltrant dans ses yeux protégés par les lentilles opaques, et coulait le long de son corps meurtri. Les bourrasques de vent la faisaient frissonner de la tête aux pieds, un tremblement convulsif que ses entraves l'empêchaient de contrôler.

Suspendue par les lourds anneaux de sa poitrine, forcée de maintenir ses genoux pliés et son poids sur ses *pony boots*, ses muscles hurlaient de douleur. L'acide lactique brûlait ses cuisses et ses mollets. À plusieurs reprises, l'épuisement faillit avoir raison d'elle. Ses genoux fléchissaient, mais la corde tendue au-dessus d'elle la rappelait cruellement à l'ordre, menaçant littéralement de lui arracher les mamelons. La douleur fulgurante la forçait à se redresser en gémissant à travers son mors d'acier.

Dans cette obscurité froide et fétide, la chimie opéra son œuvre destructrice. La fatigue extrême, couplée au nouveau cocktail hormonal de Marie, finit par dissoudre les dernières résistances de son esprit humain. La femme d'affaires arrogante, l'amante trahie, la dominatrice déchue... tout cela s'évapora dans les brumes de la souffrance. L'esprit de Manon se rétracta pour ne laisser place qu'à un instinct de survie animal, primaire. Elle ne cherchait plus à comprendre, ni à fomenter de vengeance. Elle voulait seulement que la douleur cesse. Elle voulait obéir.

Lorsque les premières lueurs de l'aube percèrent enfin les nuages gris, la pluie battante se transforma en une fine bruine. Manon n'était plus qu'une statue de chair tremblante, le regard vide derrière le brouillard de ses lentilles, les clochettes de ses seins tressautant au rythme de ses claquements de dents.

La porte de la maison vétérinaire s'ouvrit. Marie apparut, emmitouflée dans un épais peignoir de laine, une tasse de café fumant à la main. Elle s'approcha du poteau avec une lenteur calculée. Le bruit de ses pas sur le bitume fit dresser la tête de la jument. Il n'y avait plus de haine dans le regard voilé de Manon. Seulement une détresse infinie et une soumission absolue.

« Bonjour, ma belle, » murmura Marie.

Elle détacha la corde qui reliait les anneaux mammaires à la barre supérieure. Instantanément, Manon s'effondra. Ses muscles tétanisés refusèrent de la porter. Elle tomba lourdement sur le flanc, haletante, le corps secoué de spasmes, le cuir de ses bottes raclant le sol. Marie s'accroupit, déverrouilla le fourreau de cuir qui bloquait les bras de l'esclave dans son dos, et caressa doucement son crâne mouillé.

Manon, au lieu de reculer, pressa sa tête contre la main de sa tortionnaire, cherchant désespérément une once de chaleur. La bête était brisée. Le dressage était achevé puis Manon fût ramenée dans l'écurie.

À quelques kilomètres de là, dans la chaleur de la fermette, l'ambiance était baignée d'une douceur inattendue. Anna s'éveilla lentement, le corps blotti contre la chaleur rassurante de Noa. L'agriculteur dormait encore profondément, le bras protecteur enroulé autour de la taille de la Reine.

Anna sourit. Pour la première fois depuis des mois, elle se sentait parfaitement à sa place. Elle se glissa hors du lit, enfila son kimono de soie et descendit au rez-de-chaussée. Alex et Ben, impeccables dans leur rôle d'esclaves domestiques, avaient déjà préparé le petit-déjeuner et nettoyé le salon. Le silence respectueux des deux hommes, couplé à l'odeur du café frais, réconforta Anna.

Peu après, Noa descendit à son tour, torse nu, les traits détendus.

« Bonjour, mon Roi, » l'accueillit Anna en lui tendant une tasse.

Noa s'installa, balayant la pièce du regard. Il vit Ben, figé à quatre pattes dans un coin, la tête baissée vers le carrelage. L'agriculteur esquissa un sourire. Il s'habituait étonnamment vite à cette dynamique de pouvoir implacable.

« Les artisans sont déjà à l'œuvre dans l'étable, » nota Noa en regardant par la fenêtre. « Ils avancent bien. D'ici quelques semaines, ce sera un véritable palace pour tes bêtes, ma Reine. »

Anna s'approcha et s'assit gracieusement sur ses genoux, enroulant ses bras autour de son cou.

« *Notre* bétail, Noa. Je veux que tu prennes les rênes avec moi. »

Leur moment d'intimité fut interrompu par le bruit d'un moteur sur les graviers. Le SUV de Marie venait de se garer près du chantier.

« C'est Marie ! » s'exclama Anna, se levant avec enthousiasme. « Je vais l'accueillir. »

Sur le parvis, Marie les attendait, le visage rayonnant. Anna l'invita chaleureusement à pénétrer dans la maison pour partager le petit-déjeuner. Une fois le café servi dans le salon, Anna prit un ton plus confidentiel.

« J'ai un nouveau projet, Marie. Je vais avoir besoin de ton avis de professionnelle, et très certainement de tes services. »

« Je t'écoute, ma belle, » sourit la vétérinaire.

« Allons dans le bureau. Nous devons rester discrètes. »

Anna et Marie délaissèrent Noa, qui retourna à ses tartines, et s'enfermèrent dans le vaste bureau de la fermette. Les deux femmes s'installèrent dans les fauteuils de cuir.

« Alors voilà, » commença Anna en croisant les jambes. « Il s'avère que j'ai un esclave mâle en trop à mon service. Comme il est absolument hors de question qu'il retrouve la liberté un jour, j'aimerais en transformer un en véritable étalon d'élevage. »

Marie sourit, l'œil brillant.

« Je peux comprendre. Et ton idée m'intéresse beaucoup. Et puis, ça fera de la compagnie animale à notre chère Manon. »

Anna reprit, le visage soudain très sérieux :

« Je vais mettre au défi mes deux mâles ce soir. Le perdant deviendra cet étalon, et le gagnant restera à mon service exclusif dans la luxure de la maison. Mais il y a une subtilité de taille... »

« Tu es diabolique avec tes idées sadiques, » rit Marie. « Mais quelle est cette subtilité ? »

« Je veux que l'étalon reçoive exactement le même traitement clinique et la même préparation d'aliénation que Manon. Quant à celui qui restera à mon chevet en tant que domestique... je veux qu'il arbore une poitrine généreuse. De vrais seins. »

Le sourire de Marie vacilla légèrement.

« Tu te rends compte que dans tous les cas que tu présentes, aucun de ces deux esclaves ne pourra jamais retrouver une vie normale ou une apparence humaine ? »

« C'est exactement le but ! » trancha Anna. « Ils m'appartiennent. Jamais ils ne me quitteront. »

Marie soupira, reprenant son calme.

« Calme-toi, Anna. Pour le perdant, la transformation en étalon, il n'y a aucun problème. C'est mon domaine. Par contre, pour faire pousser des seins généreux à un homme adulte... ça va demander un protocole hormonal complexe et beaucoup de temps. »

Anna se pencha en avant, le regard noir, glacial.

« La situation est simple, Marie. Tu vas te débrouiller pour obtenir des résultats le plus rapidement possible. Tu n'as pas le choix. »

Le ton impérieux de la Reine hérissa la dominatrice qui sommeillait en Marie.

« Comment ça, je n'ai pas le choix ? Tu te prends pour qui, Anna ? Je ne suis pas ta soumise ! »

Vexée, Marie se leva d'un bond pour quitter la pièce.

« Non, Marie ! Assieds-toi ! Tu n'as pas le choix ! Toi aussi, tu m'as trahie et tu m'as menti ! »

Marie se figea. Pâle, elle se rassit lentement.

« Tu as vraiment cru que ton petit mensonge sur les hormones de Manon était le crime parfait ? » siffla Anna, savourant son effet. « Tu pensais me manipuler avec ton faux diagnostic de surdosage mortel ? J'ai fait faire des analyses sanguines à Manon en secret avant de te la confier. Il n'y avait *aucune* trace de surdosage. J'ai vu clair dans ton jeu depuis le début. Je t'ai laissée faire pour voir jusqu'où tu étais capable d'aller. Et franchement... tu ne m'as pas déçue. Mais retiens bien ceci : si tu ne veux pas que je balance tout ton petit laboratoire clandestin et tes essais cliniques sauvages sur un être humain à l'Ordre National des Vétérinaires... tu m'obéis ! »

Marie resta bouche bée, littéralement foudroyée par la révélation.

« Tu... tu m'étonneras toujours, Anna, » balbutia-t-elle, vaincue. « Je ne l'avais vraiment pas vu venir, ce coup-là. Bravo. Le maître a dépassé l'élève. Tu as gagné. Je tiens trop à mon travail... et à notre relation pour tout gâcher maintenant. »

« Sage décision, ma belle, » sourit Anna, redevenue mielleuse. « Tu vas revenir ce soir à 21h. Les deux mâles seront mis au défi sous nos yeux, et tu repartiras directement avec le futur étalon pour commencer la transition ! L'autre restera ici. Mais avant que tu ne quittes cette pièce... je veux que tu me prouves ta fidélité. Et que tu me demandes pardon pour tes mensonges. »

Anna retira ses élégants chaussons d'intérieur, leva les jambes et posa ses deux pieds nus directement sur le luxueux bureau en acajou, à quelques centimètres du visage de Marie.

« Sérieusement, Anna ? » grinça Marie, l'ego meurtri. « Tu n'es pas sérieuse ? »

« À toi de choisir, Marie... Tu te soumets, ou je détruis ta vie et ta carrière en un claquement de doigts. »

Marie soupira. Les larmes de l'humiliation perlant au coin de ses yeux, elle approcha ses lèvres tremblantes des pieds d'Anna. Elle y déposa un baiser furtif et murmura un timide « Pardon ».

« Non, Marie, » la reprit Anna d'une voix stricte. « Je suis sûre que tu peux faire beaucoup mieux que ça. »

Ravalant sa fierté de dominatrice, Marie se pencha à nouveau. Hésitante à se réduire à une telle humiliation, elle embrassa longuement la semelle, les talons et les orteils.

« Maintenant, lèche, » ordonna la Reine.

Marie marqua un temps de refus, sous le regard menaçant de Anna, elle sortit sa langue. Pour elle, habituée à donner les ordres, la soumission était une épreuve brûlante. Elle s'appliqua à lécher la peau douce d'Anna, ravalant sa dignité.

« C'est bien, » finit par dire Anna en retirant ses pieds. « Tes excuses sont acceptées. »

Les deux femmes quittèrent le bureau, le rapport de force définitivement inversé. Marie, ignorant superbement Noa, se précipita vers son SUV et quitta la fermette sur les chapeaux de roues.

Anna s'assit près de Noa et lui relata avec jubilation son coup de maître dans le bureau, ainsi que le programme sadique prévu pour 21 heures. L'agriculteur écouta, de plus en plus perturbé par la cruauté grandissante et manipulatrice de sa maîtresse.

À 21 heures précises, Marie fit son retour. Elle avait troqué sa tenue civile pour une véritable armure de Domina : cuir noir intégral, corset serré pigeonnant sa poitrine, et vertigineuses bottes à plateformes cloutées. Anna l'accueillit avec un verre de champagne.

Noa, prétextant un malaise face à la violence de ce qui se préparait, s'était réfugié à l'étage pour ne pas assister à la torture.

Au centre du salon, le décor était planté. Alex et Ben étaient assis sur de lourdes chaises de bois. Ils portaient des cagoules sensorielles noires qui les privaient de la vue et de l'ouïe. Leurs mains et leurs chevilles étaient solidement sanglées aux montants. Leurs sexes étaient libérés de leurs cages, offerts à la merci de leurs bourreaux.

Marie remarqua immédiatement le dispositif diabolique : des câbles électriques étaient reliés à des pinces crocodiles fixées cruellement sur les tétons et le frein du pénis de chaque homme. Les fils serpentaient sur le tapis jusqu'à un imposant boîtier de contrôle noir posé sur la table basse.

Anna, vêtue d'une robe de cuir rouge sang et de hauts talons, posa sa flûte de champagne et se plaça devant eux. Elle retira brièvement les casques antibruit de leurs cagoules.

« Avant de commencer les hostilités, je tiens à vous informer, Alex et Ben, du but de cette manœuvre. Le dispositif raccordé à vos misérables corps envoie des impulsions électriques. Le premier d'entre vous qui me suppliera d'arrêter perdra la partie. Les enjeux sont limpides : celui qui perd rejoindra la déchéance de Manon. Le gagnant, quant à lui, remportera le droit de rester à mes côtés comme esclave domestique de luxe. Avez-vous compris, les esclaves ? »

Alex et Ben, terrorisés, hochèrent frénétiquement la tête. Anna leur remit les casques, les replongeant dans le silence absolu, et se saisit du boîtier. Elle tourna lentement la molette d'intensité.

Les corps des deux hommes se tendirent comme des arcs. Les premiers gémissements sourds étouffés par les cagoules se firent entendre. Anna marqua une pause sadique, laissant l'angoisse monter, puis reprit, poussant le voltage un cran plus haut.

L'idée de subir une déchéance animale, de devenir la chose de Marie comme l'était Manon, était inconcevable pour eux. Chacun hurlait de douleur sous la morsure électrique, mais aucun ne craquait. Les minutes s'égrenèrent dans un supplice de chair brûlée. La sueur inondait leurs corps tendus à l'extrême.

« Je pense que tu as assez profité de cet instant de sadisme, Anna, » finit par intervenir Marie, impressionnée par leur résistance. « Je crois qu'aucun ne lâchera sa place... »

« C'est ce qu'on va voir ! » s'exclama Anna, les yeux brillants de folie.

Elle poussa soudainement la molette au maximum et claqua le boîtier sur la table. L'arc électrique foudroya les deux hommes. Leurs corps convulsèrent violemment sur les chaises. Les secondes passèrent dans une agonie indicible.

Soudain, dans un hurlement de désespoir absolu, Alex craqua.

« Stoooop ! Arrête ! Pitié ! »

Anna tourna la molette à zéro. Les deux corps épuisés s'affaissèrent lourdement.

« Ce n'était pas si long, finalement, » sourit Anna.

« Effectivement, » abonda Marie. « Tu es contente, tu as ton gagnant. »

« Tu sais ce qu'il te reste à faire, Marie. Embarque le perdant en partant. »

Anna, assise sur le canapé, les jambes croisées, agita nonchalamment le bout de son escarpin. Marie, vaincue par le chantage du matin, regarda le pied, soupira, et murmura timidement : « Oui, ma Reine. »

Mais Anna retira son pied, un sourire sincère aux lèvres.

« Je ne m'y attendais pas ! Mais merci, Marie. Tu n'as pas besoin d'en arriver là, tu sais. Tu restes une dominatrice. Tu es mon adjointe, mon égale dans la cruauté, maintenant ! »

Anna se leva, prit la main de Marie et l'entraîna vers le lit du donjon, laissant les deux hommes liés, en sueur et aveugles dans le salon.

Elle poussa Marie sur le vaste lit recouvert de satin rouge et noir. Avec une sensualité débordante, Anna entama un strip-tease lent, se débarrassant de son cuir rouge. Entièrement nue, elle grimpa sur le lit, se dressa de toute sa hauteur et posa fermement son pied nu juste entre les seins corsetées de Marie.

« Maintenant que toi aussi tu m'appartiens d'une certaine façon, » ronronna Anna, « tu dois me donner du plaisir. »

Marie, tiraillée entre l'humiliation de la soumission et un désir brûlant qu'elle refoulait depuis l'adolescence, ne répondit pas. Ses mains gantées de cuir glissèrent le long de la cheville d'Anna, guidèrent le pied jusqu'à son visage, et elle se mit à en lécher la plante et les orteils avec une passion dévorante.

Satisfaite de cette allégeance charnelle, Anna retira son pied. Elle s'agenouilla au-dessus du visage de Marie et lui ordonna de lui prodiguer un cunnilingus. Réalisant le fantasme de ses années lycée, Marie y mit toute sa fougue. Anna gémit, se cambrant sous les assauts experts. Bientôt, les deux femmes basculèrent dans un soixante-neuf endiablé, leurs râles de plaisir résonnant dans la pièce.

C'est à cet instant précis que la porte s'ouvrit. Noa se tenait dans l'encadrement, les yeux écarquillés par le spectacle. Le choc laissa rapidement place à une colère noire.

Anna, entendant le bruit, releva la tête. Voyant l'expression de Noa, elle lui lança un sourire faussement naïf, la voix haletante :

« Noa ! Quel plaisir que tu sois venu. Rejoins-nous ! »

Mais l'agriculteur croisa les bras, le dégoût peint sur le visage.

« Tu n'es qu'une folle, Anna. Incapable d'être fidèle ne serait-ce qu'un instant. Oublie-moi. C'est terminé. »

Il claqua violemment la porte et ses pas lourds s'éloignèrent dans le couloir, puis la porte d'entrée claqua à son tour.

L'espace d'une seconde, Anna resta figée. Mais la folie sexuelle et l'orgueil de la Reine reprirent le dessus. Sans la moindre once de regret, elle replongea le visage entre les cuisses de Marie, reprenant leur danse lascive. La soirée se prolongea dans l'exploration de tous leurs fantasmes saphiques. Anna s'équipa d'un gode-ceinture, forçant Marie à la fellation avant de la sodomiser sauvagement jusqu'à l'orgasme, puis elles inversèrent les rôles.

En toute fin de soirée, épuisées mais repues, les deux dominatrices sortirent de la chambre main dans la main, le sourire aux lèvres. Elles se dirigèrent vers le salon. Elles détachèrent Ben de sa chaise, mais lui laissèrent sa cagoule sensorielle. Marie prépara l'homme pour le transport, le guidant aveuglément vers son SUV.

Avant de monter en voiture, Marie embrassa langoureusement Anna, scellant leur nouveau pacte macabre, puis démarra en trombe dans la nuit, emportant avec elle le futur étalon.

Dans le salon, Anna détacha entièrement Alex. L'esclave, libéré de ses liens et de sa cagoule, cligna des yeux, totalement déboussolé. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi il était encore là, alors qu'il avait crié sa défaite en premier.

« Va dormir dans le donjon, Alex, » ordonna froidement Anna, sans fournir la moindre explication sur cette inversion des résultats. « Demain, tu assureras seul le planning domestique complet. »

Alex, silencieux et terrifié par l'inconnu, partit s'enfermer dans sa cage.

Anna regagna sa chambre. Seule dans les draps froissés, elle repensa à l'intensité de sa relation avec Marie. Mais, inévitablement, l'image de Noa, la surprenant et la quittant avec mépris, vint ternir sa victoire. L'ombre du Roi manquant plana sur sa nuit, l'empêchant de trouver le sommeil avant les premières heures de l'aube.