by Cress, Rynna
Clare stepped over her girl, then lowered herself down, straddling her face, her bare pussy just inches above Zoe’s mouth. “From now on,” Clare said, “I want you to know what a luxury it is to share meals with me. So right now, you’re going to experience the alternative.”
“Open your mouth,” she commanded. Zoe slowly obeyed, her eyes widening with the horrified realization of what was coming. Clare lowered herself down further, resting her pussy directly on top of Zoe’s opened mouth.
A silent moment passed before she released a steady stream of hot, fresh piss directly down Zoe’s throat.
Zoe immediately gagged, not just from the salty, acrid taste, but from the very concept of what was happening. “Keep your mouth open, slut, and swallow what I give you,” Clare ordered, “or you’ll get the belt again.
Eyes still wide, Zoe felt the piss filling her mouth, her tongue submerged in the taste. Desperately, she tried to swallow, struggling to breathe as the piss overflowed and ran up her nose, in her hair, and into her eyes. Finally, she managed to get a full mouthful down, the shimmering, golden liquid continuing to splash across her lips and face. She opened her mouth back up, gasping for air and choking as her mouth continued to fill.
Finally, the stream came to a stop, and Zoe, her face covered in piss and tears, her soaked head resting in a puddle, managed to gulp down the last of it. She worried she might vomit, and began concentrating on keeping Clare’s piss down.
“Don’t just lay there,” Clare snapped, “Clean your mistress.”
Zoe whimpered weakly and began licking Clare’s wet pussy clean, making sure to work her tongue along the folds of her labia, and then across her moistened thighs.
“That’s it,” Clare said, “Nice and thorough. Get every last drop down.”
When Zoe had finished, Clare stood up, collecting her pants from the floor. “Always remember that there’s plenty more where that came from for unappreciative little sluts. Tell me that you understand.” Zoe, still out of breath, nodded, then answered, “Yes, Clare.”
Clare smiled, her brutal hardness gone. “Good girl. Now I’m going to go clean up and get back into my clothes. When I return, that puddle you’re lying in had better be gone. I trust you know how to make that happen.”
Zoe could only answer with another soft whimper as Clare left for the bathroom. Once she was gone, Zoe laid still for a moment, alone and completely degraded, her eyes closed, the shock of what had just happened still sinking in. Finally, she gathered her strength and turned over, rising back to her hands and knees. She stared down at the puddle for a moment, her face contorted in disgust, and then reluctantly lowered her tongue to the floor, quietly lapping up Clare’s mess.
**********
Forty minutes later, Zoe sat in the backseat of Clare’s SUV as Clare drove the two of them down the PCH. She fidgeted with her clothing, surprised to realize how quickly she had grown accustomed to the unceasing nudity that Clare demanded of her at home. She still had her collar though, and despite the brutal punishment Clare had dealt out earlier, she still enjoyed wearing it, enjoyed the constant reminder of what it symbolized.
She stared out the window, watching the ocean pass by. It was a bright, sunny day, and Zoe felt as if she was seeing the world through new eyes, the eyes of someone whose mind has been opened to its own full potential. She shifted in her seat, her ass still incredibly sore, and realized that she enjoyed the lingering pain, much as she enjoyed the collar. It reminded her of the training Clare had beaten into her, and how coming out of it, she had felt stronger than before. Even the taste of Clare’s piss, still lingering in the back of Zoe’s mouth, was strangely comforting, proof of sorts that Zoe had endured. After licking the floor clean, Zoe had asked Clare if she could have some water to help rinse the taste from her mouth, and Clare had quickly rejected that request. At the time, it had seemed cruel and crushing, but now, Zoe felt thankful for Clare’s firmness. She was beginning to understand her mistress, she realized, a thought which justified and strengthened her trust in the woman. She couldn’t help but smile.
Clare watched Zoe in the rearview mirror as she drove, admiring the way the sunlight coming through her window seemed to collect on the shoulders of her leather jacket. The girl was special, no doubt, and Clare knew that she had very quickly developed very strong, very real feelings for her. She could only hope that Zoe was ready for what was coming…
The SUV left the highway, ascending a mountainous, oceanside hill just north of Santa Monica and pulling to a stop in front of a large, private mansion overlooking the Pacific. Zoe stepped out, her guitar slung over her shoulder, and gazed up at this home – quite possibly the most beautiful she had ever seen – with wide eyes. Clare led her to the gate, where she entered a code to enter, and then led Zoe to the front door. Before they could even knock, the door opened, revealing a stocky, buff-looking young Hispanic man with short, dark hair and a studded bolt through his bottom lip. He smiled at them warmly, Zoe taking notice of his unusually sharp, white teeth, and the oddly soft features of his face.
“Saw you two coming. You must be Zoe – dig the Mohawk, yo,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Rubin.”
Zoe looked to Clare, who gave her a soft nod, then took his hand.
“Clare tells me you’re incredible,” Rubin said. Zoe smiled, blushing softly.
“I don’t know about that, Rubin,” Zoe said turning her eyes to Clare, “but I’m glad she sees something in me.”
Rubin laughed. “All right. Well, you two should come inside. I’ll show you to the studio.”
The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside, finely decorated with classic artwork, beautiful vases, and touches of modern decadence, a far cry from the minimalist aesthetic at Clare’s townhouse.
“So you run a studio out of your home?” Zoe asked as Rubin led the two of them through a seemingly never-ending series of hallways and rooms.
Rubin answered with a smile, “A man’s home is his castle, yo, you hear me?”
“Well, it’s an incredible castle,” Zoe said, still flabbergasted by all the excess, just for this one man, who didn’t even look like he was much older than she was.
“Yeah, thanks,” Rubin said. “What can I say, you know? I’m a very lucky man. Business is good. OK, now here we are.”
He came to what looked like a blank wall, except for an odd door handle. Giving it a pull, the entire wall started sliding, one giant door, revealing a fully equipped sound studio.
“This is where the magic happens,” he said proudly, adding with a grin, “at least, the magic I engage in professionally, right?”
“Rubin is one of the biggest sound mixers in the music business, Zoe,” Clare said, adding, “All of the big names have been here at one point or another, laying down tracks.”
“And how do you two know each other?” Zoe asked.
Rubin and Clare shared a look, before Rubin finally answered, “Clare is a very special friend of mine. Now shall we?”
The three of them stepped inside, Rubin showing Zoe into a soundproof recording room, then leading Clare into an adjacent mixing booth. Zoe pulled her guitar out of its case and took a seat on a stool in the center of the room, trying not to be intimidated by the large microphone hanging in front of her face.
“That’s a beautiful instrument you’ve got there,” Rubin said.
“Thanks,” Zoe answered. “It belonged to my father.” She thought of him, something she had spent years trying not to do, not because she didn’t miss him, but because she didn’t want to imagine him ashamed of her. Now, knowing she had reached a potential milestone and turning point in her life, she imagined him looking down on her, proud and happy.
“That’s real nice. All right, so just go ahead and put those headphones on so you can hear yourself,” Rubin said into a microphone at his station. “Yeah, there you go. All right, so I want you just to relax, take your time, get comfortable, and start playing for us whenever you’r
e ready, got it?”
Zoe smiled at him through the glass window, working hard to contain her nervousness. “Great, got it,” she said, her heart beginning to race a little.
She strummed a few chords to make sure everything was in tune, then closed her eyes, took a breath – and began to sing. The song started out a capella, highlighting her soft, deceptively strong voice. After a few lines, she could feel her confidence growing, a faint smile creeping across her face as she sung, her hand tapping softly on the body of her guitar for rhythm.
In the booth, Rubin leaned forward, carefully watching Zoe’s performance, his brow furrowed with concentration.
“Isn’t she something?” Clare asked with hushed excitement.
“Don’t speak,” Rubin answered coldly, his gaze fixed straight ahead at Zoe.
Coming to the end of the song’s first section, Zoe held out a long, delicate note, then confidently began strumming along with the song, its cadence intensifying, the performance blooming like a flower. Rubin and Clare sat in silence, watching her, the green and red lights from the sound board glowing up at their faces in the dark room.
Zoe came to the end of the song, easing down into the pleasing ring of its final chord. She smiled to herself, knowing it was one of the best performances she had ever given, imagining all the people who were going to hear it after Rubin mixed and distributed it. Finally, she opened her eyes again.
“Man, Clare was right,” Rubin said, “that was absolutely beautiful.” Zoe blushed again, her heart still racing with excitement.
“Thank you,” she said, “for everything. You have no idea what a huge day this is for me.”
Rubin chuckled. “I don’t think you have any idea either,” he said, before switching off his microphone.
Rubin turned in his seat to face Clare. “Tell me about her progress,” he demanded.
“She’s learning well, sir” Clare started, “She’s needed a few corrections here and there, but overall, she’s embracing her role quite well. She even took my piss this morning.”
“She drank it?” Rubin asked, eyebrows raised. Clare nodded. “Well shit,” Rubin said with a wicked chuckle, “you weren’t lying, slut.”
“No, sir,” Clare said.
“What else?” Rubin asked.
In the recording room, Zoe sat patiently through the silence, watching Rubin and Clare talk. Finally, she asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Be quiet, slut,” Rubin quickly responded into his mic, his easy, genial tone completely gone. Zoe was speechless and confused, anxiously turning to Clare, who avoided her gaze, staring instead at the floor.
“Clare…”
“You don’t talk to Clare anymore,” Rubin snapped, “not when I’m around. Now take your clothes off so Daddy can see his new slut.”
Zoe just sat there, stunned, her mouth agape. What was going on? Had Clare betrayed her? The very thought was blood-chilling.
Clare, still staring at the floor, started, “Sir, may I just talk…”
Rubin interrupted her with a hard, fast slap to the face, silencing her.
Zoe had seen enough. She was scared, confused, and she wanted out. She threw her headphones off and bolted for the door – but Rubin had locked her in.
“You’re not going anywhere, slut,” his voice came over the loudspeaker, the sound sending chills down Zoe’s spine. Frightened and trapped, tears began to well in her eyes. She turned from the door, locking eyes with him through the glass.
“Now take off your clothes,” he commanded.
Zoe’s answer came with a defiant firmness to her voice that surprised even her. “No.”
“Believe me, slut, you do not want to anger me. Now take your clothes off, apologize for resisting, and hope that I’m in a forgiving mood.”
Zoe clenched her jaw, gathering her inner strength. “I don’t belong to you,” she said simply, “so you can go fuck yourself.”
Rubin snorted out a laugh. “All right, slut, we’ll see how your tone sounds when I’m through punishing you.” He turned to Clare. “Take her to the Shock Room,” he ordered, adding. “And you don’t say a word to her, you understand me, slut?”
Clare nodded. “Yes sir,” she said, as she quickly rose and exited the booth.
Zoe turned from Rubin, still watching her through the window, to the door. Increasingly frantic, she grabbed the only thing she had – her guitar, lifting it over her shoulder by the neck, ready to smash it over Clare’s head if she had to. She assumed a fighter’s stance, staring intently at the doorknob, absolutely focused, ready to fight to escape.
She didn’t even hear the wall behind her slowly slide open, and she barely felt the needle stick into the side of her neck. Jarred by the sudden swirling in the room and sensing someone behind her, she turned halfway towards Clare, then dropped the guitar, a loud, pained clanging ringing out as it clattered to the floor. She took a few stumbling steps sideways, her eyes beginning to lull, her mind beginning to shut down. Her knees buckled, and she started to fall, catching herself on the stool, struggling to stay up.
The last thing she saw before falling to the floor was Clare’s face, emotionless and expressionless. And then, everything went black.
**********
part 4
“Clare… Clare…”
Zoe, delirious and barely conscious, began to stir. Clare knew she only had a few minutes before the drug wore off, so she worked quickly, finishing pulling Zoe’s jeans off, then standing her up, cuffing her wrists to a chain that hung low from a ceiling-mounted pulley.
“Please…” Zoe started, disoriented, “please Clare… may I cum?”
Clare bit her lip and focused, holding Zoe up while she bent down, cuffing the girl’s ankles to two metal rings in the floor, forcing her legs apart. She stood up, giving Zoe a few light smacks on the cheek. Zoe moaned, shaking her head, gradually starting to come to her senses. She opened her eyes, taking in the cold, dimly lit room, with dirty-looking greenish walls and a grimy-feeling cement floor beneath her bare feet.
“Where… what…” she murmured, before finding Clare, standing against the wall. Zoe gasped, her eyes going wide as the events leading up to her blackout came back to her.
“Clare,” she sobbed, “why are you… what’s happening?”
Clare stared deep into Zoe’s eyes, but said nothing, instead reaching for a metal crank against the wall and starting to turn it. Zoe had to shout to be heard over the loud creaking.
“Answer me! Why are you doing this?”
Still nothing. Clare continued turning the crank, and Zoe realized that her wrists were being pulled up, above her head. She looked down, realizing that she was naked, and that her feet were cuffed to the floor, her legs spread.
She was trapped.
“Please,” she screamed, her arms beginning to stretch above her head, “answer me! Please! Why would you do this to me?”
No answer. Just more turns of the crank.
“I trusted you!” She screamed, “I was your good girl! Why?”
Clare finished cranking, Zoe’s arms extended completely above her head. She moved to the door, opening it, then stopped. Slowly, she turned around, looking up at a camera watching them from the corner of the room.
Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, telling her, “You are still my good girl,” she said. “Everything is going to be OK.”
“Fuck you,” Zoe yelled, spitting at her.
“You need to trust me,” she said, undeterred. “Know that I… I care about you very much.”
Clare started to exit, but Zoe spat out:
“At least take this fucking collar off of me.”
Clare stood still for a moment as the words landed, her back to Zoe, then, without turning around, without a word, she left the room, the door slamming behind her. Zoe hung her head.
“God DAMN IT!” She yelled.
Zoe stood there, helpless, for what she guessed was fifteen minutes, although her mind, still woozy, had
very little conception of time. By the time the door finally opened again, Zoe wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been hours. All she knew was that she was exposed and vulnerable.
Rubin entered, dragging a naked, ballgagged Clare behind him. Zoe could only put on her bravest face, glaring at the two of them.
“She must really like you,” he said. “She deliberately disobeyed me and spoke to you, knowing that I was watching and would have to punish her. That’s not like her.”
“I wouldn’t know what she’s like,” Zoe snapped.
Rubin smiled. “Maybe not. But still, I’d say you’ve had quite the effect on her. It’ll be so sweet punishing the two of you, and watching both of you sluts suffering together.” He reached up, pulling another chain down from another creaking ceiling pulley, and cuffed Clare’s hands, then bent down, cuffing her ankles to the same rings as Zoe, leaving the two facing each other. He moved to the wall, turning Clare’s crank, pulling her arms up over her head.
“So here’s what you need to know,” Rubin shouted over the noise of the winch’s crank. “You belonged to Clare, but Clare belongs to me. So now, you belong to me, too, understand?”
“I thought I belonged to her,” Zoe barked back, ignoring the pleading glance Clare was shooting her, “but it turns out I don’t belong to anybody. Especially not you.”
“Oh, sure you do,” Rubin said, moving to a table at the end of the room and pulling out a large, black box covered in dials. “You just don’t know it yet.” He patted the box on the side, adding, “That’s what this baby’s for.”
Rooting around in a drawer, Rubin pulled out a small box overflowing with electrical wiring, and opened a small leather case filled with sticky nodes. He began attaching the nodes to the wires, and then attaching the wires to the black box. Then, he set the black box on the floor beside Zoe and Clare and began sticking the nodes onto their bodies, talking to himself as he worked.