by Amy Yao
Pleasure.
It wove into her body, and Erika didn’t know how to fight it. She had been ready for pain. But how could this be happening.
“It’s the collar,” she breathed without thinking.
“No, my dear. It’s not,” David answered, right before he spanked her again. Another jolt of pain slammed into her. It was accompanied by fresh desire. Her pussy was getting wet all over again.
“I spank you, and you get turned on. Isn’t that lovely?”
Erika didn’t want to think about it. She closed her eyes, and she attempted to push the impulses away. Erika did everything she could ignore those sensations. She had to block them.
It didn’t work.
It couldn’t.
This man knew her body, especially with the collar modifying her reactions. There was nothing she could do no way for her to fight back. His hand smacked down again, giving her another dose of pleasure/pain.
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
One after another, the spankings fell.
This young woman endured to the best of her ability. At first, that spot between her legs was simply damp. But pretty soon, wet. It became drenched. Erika couldn’t stop that from happening. Seconds ticked by, her heart pounded, and there was still nothing she could do.
The frustration continued to mount. To make matters worse, her husband took advantage of the fact that she couldn’t see him. He reached between her legs, and her crevice, touching with two fingers. His digits worked into her body, and he played with her.
“No, don’t you dare!”
“If you don’t like this, then you should stop me,”
“I can’t, and you know it!”
“Really? Are you sure about that?”
Erika didn’t know what he meant. More importantly, she didn’t know how to fight back. At this point, she couldn’t even try to manipulate him. It wasn’t fair! And yet, there was still nothing she could do about it.
“Moan for me,” he ordered.
All the while, his fingers continued to push into her, teasing her. He took advantage of her most vulnerable, sensitive spot.
Pretty soon, Erika had to focus on remaining silent. Because she was determined to defy her husband, she closed her mouth. She panted through her nostrils. He got her closer and closer to an orgasm. Then he pulled his hand back, and her chest heaved with little whimpers of disappointment.
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
He thwacked her ass four times with his hand. He came down, confident each time. He made sure it stung. Worse, he made sure she enjoyed it.
“Moan for me,” he ordered again.
Erika did just that. The deep, heaving sounds pulsated from within her chest. She couldn’t stop herself. Everything fell apart. Her best resistance shattered because she liked this. She found herself eager for more.
“That’s right. You need to be punished. Say it.”
“I, I need to be punished,” Erika admitted, her eyes wet. This time, she couldn’t do anything. He could play with her and tease her and manipulate her, and she was helpless before this man.
At that moment, her husband really did feel more like her owner. He was in charge. He had access to her body. More importantly, he had control of it. “That’s right,” he agreed.
Erika panted as she got ready for another barrage.
Even though she understood it was coming, that didn’t help her, not this time. With her nipples hard and her skin radiating heat, she had nothing left. There was no way for this young woman to brace herself against the inevitable.
One after another, the spankings rained down against her. Erika balled her fingers into fists, but that didn’t help. And when he was done, he lifted up the controller, and he pressed a button. The restraints came away.
They just disappeared into the table, and Erika was able to move. Even so, she couldn’t raise an arm or push away from the surface. So instead, she remained at that angle, her heart pounding, her lungs heaving.
“Get on your knees.”
What was it about his voice? Why did it sound different?
In any case, Erika obeyed. She slid off of that surface, and she got down on her knees. She looked up at her husband. The last time she had been in this position, she had swallowed his come like some horny wife.
It seemed he wanted that same treatment. David unzipped his pants, and he took out his cock.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” she said in a small, timid whisper.
Truthfully, Erika didn’t know what was about to happen, but she found his member right there in front of her again. She licked her lips, and then she leaned forward. She wrapped her mouth around his circumference as she moved her head forward, then back. She wrapped her tongue around the bottom half of his curves. She moved forward and back, forward and back, forward and back. David didn’t touch her, not this time. He didn’t grab her hair or force any particular rhythm.
No, he just watched her.
Strangely enough, Erika could feel it. She knew his gaze was upon her. That only added to the sense of helplessness.
“Stop,” he commanded.
For a second, Erika really didn’t understand. Stop? Didn’t he want her to finish?
“Erika, get back up on the table.”
Why?
And yet, she didn’t ask. Instead, she climbed back up onto the table, like an obedient girl. From there, she watched as he grabbed her wrists, positioning them back just above the automated restraints. He spread her legs, doing the same thing.
He pressed a button, and the shackles reappeared, looping around her arms and legs. This way, she was stuck again. Now “there’s something I’ve always wanted to do with you,” he said.
Erika felt her bottom lip start to tremble. This was it. This was the actual punishment for her disobedience, for trying to run away. He positioned himself behind her, and then he pushed forward, his cock moving closer and closer toward her opening. But he wasn’t aiming for her pussy.
No, he slid his shaft between her butt cheeks.
“Remember when we first got together? You told me that you were so adventurous. Of course, you didn’t really like going down on me, and you definitely weren’t interested in anal, but you still wanted to convince me that you were special. Well? I guess you are now. And to think, all it took was a little collar.”
David chuckled, and she shivered as she felt him. He pushed forward, going deeper and deeper. Erika tried to deny it, especially to herself, but her body responded. This turned her on. It added to the excitement already spinning through her body. He pushed into her, going slowly. She clenched down, desperate to resist. It didn’t work.
His member was wet with her saliva. He used that as lubricant, claiming his wife any way he wanted.
“Oh, you feel incredible.” He growled those words into her ear.
“You can’t do this,” she said, thinking that she was supposed to be a virgin, at least in this way. Anal was for sluts, those dirty girls who could only get a man by pleasing him with her body. Erika was supposed to be better than that! All of her pride came roaring back.
It didn’t last long. He had his hands on her hips as he pushed forward, only to pull back, and then he thrust again. He used her.
Erika could feel his strength. More than that, the solidity of his body against hers, the friction, all of it sent her somewhere dark. She didn’t want to get turned on; she didn’t want the sort of arousal. And yet, that didn’t change anything. Her body answered this primal call. Maybe it was the helplessness. Maybe it was a different form of stimulation. Either way, Erika lost control.
“Come for me,” he said, smacking her ass even as he pushed deeper into her body. The pain reverberated through her, echoing like something primal and undeniable. Pretty soon, she couldn’t help herself. She lifted her head, her chin just barely off the padded table. She screamed out—completion sw
ept through her, wiping away every objection.
Right there, she became David’s slut.
Erika was back in the salon, seated, only this time the stylist didn’t take any chances. She made sure to attach a set of cuffs. Not only that, a leash connected to Erika’s collar. She wasn’t going anywhere, not until the stylist was satisfied.
"What you going to do to me?" Erika had demanded.
The stylist said nothing. Instead, she just hummed a pop tune to herself. The music was annoying, the sort of song only some college or high school girl could enjoy.
"Answer me!"
Erika started to move her head from side to side. She jerked around, yanking against her bonds, like she really thought she had some chance of getting away.
The stylist finally stopped, giving Erika all of her attention. "Now, now. Unless you want me to punish you, you're going to stay right where you are."
Punishment.
The idea was actually enough to get Erika to freeze and reconsider her position. Immediately, she thought of David, how he had mounted her, claiming her ass as his own. He had pumped into her. The humiliation had been intense. Worse was the fact that Erika actually enjoyed it.
"You don't like the idea of being punished, do you?" Asked the stylist with a little giggle.
Erika really didn't know how to respond.
"Look, if you let me go, maybe I can give you something in return. I have some money saved up," Erika spoke carefully, making sure to drop her voice on the off chance that anyone might hear. For the moment, they appeared to be alone in this part of the salon. Off to her left and right, maybe 30 or 40 feet away, other girls were getting worked on.
"Really? What would you offer?"
"Money."
Erika let the word hang there on the air, the two syllables filled with tantalizing promise.
The stylist looked at Erika. Then she looked around, like she too was worried about the possibility someone might overhear.
This was working. It was actually working.
Erika almost wanted to grin to herself, thinking about the fact that money would always talk. No matter the circumstances, there would always be someone interested in an easy payday.
But then the stylist smiled at Erika. "Oh, you girls are always so cute! Don't worry your pretty little head. I'm going to make sure that you are nice and gorgeous for your owner."
"I don't have an owner!"
Erika thrashed about, kicking against her anklets, pulling and twisting her arms, hoping to somehow slide free from the manacles holding her wrists at the armrests.
"Of course, you have an owner. His name is David, right?"
"David is not my owner!"
"Does he prefer the term Master? That's pretty common. Lots of men like being Master." The stylist shrugged, like the term didn't really matter. Erika realized, that it probably didn't. All men were the same. They were in charge because they were superior.
Erika couldn't believe it. She didn't understand how any female could surrender so totally.
If they had somehow grown up in another culture, one where male dominance was assured from an early age, then perhaps it would have made sense. But Erika and this young woman both seemed to come from the United States. They had been raised on the assumption that women were equal to men.
Then a different thought occurred to the young woman strapped into the chair. What if they were able to condition her to believe that she was property, a slave, a pet or a plaything for a man like David?
Never. Erika already knew that she wasn't going to succumb.
"I don't have an owner. I'm never going to have an owner. I don't care what he told you to do, I'm not going to let you get away with this. I am my own person. I'm..." Erika meant to say something else, but the stylist had already taken out her own controller. It was black, plastic, shiny, just like the ones David and Miranda had wielded.
As if it didn't matter at all, the stylist aimed the controller, and then she pushed a button.
Erika didn't even get the chance to brace herself. Mid-rant, her words stopped, replaced by a sharp gasp, almost a scream. She cried out, her muscles tensing. Ericka's world was replaced. All of that self-righteous indignation vanished, swapped out for hot pain.
Then it stopped, almost as quickly as it had started.
"Are you going to behave yourself now?" The stylist tilted her head to the side, like she already knew what the answer was going to be, she just needed to hear it.
When Erika didn't say anything, the stylist lifted the controller again. The threat was obvious. So Erika had a question in mind. Was she going to behave herself? Or would she continue to defy this random stranger?
Erika chose not to fight. What was the point? She was probably going to lose, so it was easier to surrender.
"Now don't worry, your Master has decided that he wants just a few small modifications. Are you ready?"
Erika didn't answer, so the girl raised of the controller again.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," Erika growled, getting ready for her metamorphosis. She was ready.
Chapter 4: Training
Erika stared at herself in the mirror, uncomprehending. On the one hand, she recalled the last few hours. The memories were there, yet none of them actually felt as though they belonged to her. For one, Erika had always been in control of her appearance. She had never been the kind of girl who would allow anyone else undue influence over how she dressed, how she chose her makeup, or even what she did with her hair.
In high school, some of her friends would routinely tease her for her plain style.
At the time, she told herself that it didn't really matter.
She had a cute face, and the boys seem to like her anyway. So really, what was the point of getting stressed out over lip gloss, eye shadow, or wearing the perfect blouse?
More importantly, Erika understood the fundamental truth of seduction. Appearance mattered, but only a little bit. If a girl really wanted to attract a guy's attention, then she needed the right affect, the right flirtatious smile, the correct bit of laughter. That's really what would attract a boy. Big breasts or nice legs were great, but there was so much more to attractiveness.
And now, Erika stood there, wearing Mary Jane shoes. The black leather shined. The buckles were embarrassingly childish. She had on knee-high socks, a short skirt, and white cotton panties. The skirt was barely long enough to cover her underwear. Erika kept resisting the urge to cross her knees, like that might somehow help.
She was also wearing a white blouse with quarter length sleeves and a dark blue vest. She really did look like a schoolgirl. To make matters worse, she knew she was an adult, only her features seemed somehow accentuated by this attire. Altogether, she probably could have passed herself off as a high school kid. Worse, she probably could've shown up and pretended to be a freshman, and no one would have questioned it.
She glared at her reflection.
"Oh, don't look like that. You should smile," said the stylist.
Erika would have spun on this woman, especially after what she had done to her hair.
Before Erika had sat down in that stylist's chair, her brown locks had been shiny, maybe a little bit plain, but still lovely.
Now Erika's hair was a shade of golden blonde. It matched her blue eyes and her light complexion, but Erika still hated it. For so long, her dark hair had seemed like a quiet rebellion against the rest of the world. Could Erika have become more attractive with blonde hair? Probably. But she never wanted to find out because she thought dark her hair would be braver. It would prove something. She would get on in the world on her own merits. She wouldn't have to seduce some guy.
Gritting her teeth, Erika could feel the tendrils of anger slip their way through her insides. Apparently, even the collar wasn't strong enough to prevent that frustration.
Did this mean that the collar wasn't really able to control her? Maybe. Considering that she had been able to use arousal to somehow overcome
the device’s control, she had to hope.
"You have such a pretty blonde hair," said the stylist, giggling.
Erika turned back to the stylist. The girl immediately pulled out her remote. Erika tensed up, thinking that she was going to get another dose of electricity. But no, the collar didn't shot pain into her body. Instead, it relaxed her.
That same contentment, the entrancing sense that she should just relax, overwhelmed her. Erika opened her fingers, and she let her hands dangle at her sides as she stood there.
"Don't worry. Your counselor will be here in a few minutes," said the stylist.
Before Miranda would go talk to Erika, she needed to figure out exactly what kind of permissions she had. After all, Erika belonged to David. When it came to training, they needed to be very certain about what boundaries would apply.
Some owners became especially protective of their slave girls.
They sat back in Miranda's office.
"How do you feel about sexual contact?" Miranda asked. The redhead resisted the urge to smile. She didn't know exactly what it was, but the idea of getting to feel that girl’s tongue definitely made her enjoy her job that much more.
"What kind?"
"It depends on what you're comfortable with. I can use a dildo on her. Or I can have her go down on me. If you aren't comfortable with either of those options, I can train her with other methods. Of course, I can train her without even touching her."
"This is really my decision," David said, to be clear he understood the content of their conversation. It was really more just marveling at the power he now had.
To think, when they first arrived on the island, Erika had been a defiant little brat. But over the last couple of hours, he was asserting himself. He wondered what his wife would be like after a full day, a full week, maybe even longer.
"It is really your decision," said Miranda.
"Sexual contact of any kind is acceptable."
"Are there any methods of punishment you would like me to avoid?"
He reached up, running his fingers along the stubble on his cheek. For a couple of seconds, he imagined what Erika might say. Obviously, she would have complained. She would've argued bitterly, saying this wasn't fair. She would've wined and cajoled, arguing that he had an obligation to protect her.