by Jena Cryer
“Sona.”
I arch back my neck and sigh.
Master nods to White Coat, and my burly keeper leaves the room. The giant oak door closes behind him. Now it’s just me and Master. Me and Master and Miss Priss.
Miss Priss…
The blonde vixen hasn’t moved since White Coat gave her leash to Master, and I can hear her snort as Master’s attention remains focused on me and not her.
She won’t even look at us.
I know she’s angry, jealous, hurt, but right now, I don’t care. Right now I’m with Master. He’s the one who matters here, not this resentful little bitch. He’s the one I need to please, the only one I need to please, and if she can’t understand that, then to hell with her.
Master gives my ass one last pat before he turns away and pulls something heavy and familiar out of the corner of the room.
My scratching post.
That’s what I’ve come to call the heavy ottoman with the giant dildo rising up from its center. Master keeps it in the corner of the room, just beside the towering armoire with its animal-foot legs and the full-length gilded mirror that reflects every inch of my naked body right back at me.
I should feel ashamed every time I mount it. I should see nothing but disgust on my face whenever I look in that mirror.
But I don’t.
In fact, I never have.
Every time I lower my cunt onto that giant, thrusting phallus, I feel nothing but excitement. I look in the mirror, and instead of a broken animal, I see a woman filled with life. I watch my hips grind into the cushion. I see my breasts bounce as I ride that silicone cock, and I moan with erotic delight. Exhilaration always colors my face as well as my master’s.
He likes to watch me when I come, and I like it, too.
When Master pats my scratching post, I climb upon it quickly. Its cock fills my insides. He flicks on a switch, and for a second the rest of the world is gone. All that exists is the throbbing between my legs and the gentle stroke of my master’s fingers across my tender breasts.
He smiles down at me.
His fingers gently tweak one of my nipples before he removes my gag. My lips are already parted. White Coat has trained me so well that now I never dare close my mouth. I should be ready to accept my master inside me at any time, and I am. I really, really am.
I wait for the warmth of his cock to grace my tongue, but it doesn’t. He turns away from me. He takes Miss Priss’s leash and leads her to the bed.
I watch him lift her up onto his red satin sheets, and my breath hitches.
He never placed me upon that bed. Not once since he first brought me to this room have I ever even touched the top of his mattress. I watch him stroke Miss Priss’s back, and tears prick my eyes.
Was I bad? Am I being punished for something I don’t even remember?
He looks me straight in the eye. “Voro.”
My back arches, and I moan as an orgasm ripples through my body, but I can’t focus on that. No, I can’t get lost in the pleasure now. I need to watch. Master wants me to watch.
“Dinsi,” he says, and Miss Priss thrusts her ass in the air as she lowers her chest onto his red silk duvet.
Master parts his robe, and his erect cock stands before me. He strokes her clit once before he enters her from behind. Miss Priss lets out a low, deep moan, and my pussy strains against the artificial cock buried inside me.
Oh, God.
Oh, God!
I’ve been waiting for this. I knew it would come sooner or later. For weeks I’d been terrified of this moment, but now as I watch Miss Priss give me my final lesson, as I see her neck arch and her mouth curl into a tiny “O” as she climaxes again and again, I’m not scared like I was when faced with all of my lessons before.
No, I’m ready.
I’m more than ready.
I don’t need Miss Priss to show me what every animal already knows. This is life at its core, its most primal, and I need it. I need to feel my master inside of me. I need to be riding his cock, not this make-do scratching post.
I need him.
God, I need him so much I can barely stand it.
Tears are coursing down my face when he finally comes inside of Miss Priss, and I stretch my arms out to him as he pulls his dick out of the blonde.
Me next. Please, Master, just let me be next.
His lips curl into a grin. He slides off the bed and lifts me into his arms. Strong fingers bury themselves deep inside my wet cunt.
“Sona,” he whispers. “Sona, Isa.”
I nuzzle his muscular chest, and as he lowers me down beside Miss Priss, I’m shivering with excitement. He’s going to take me. He’s going to take me. He’s finally going to take me.
I want to laugh, I’m so happy.
Since first arriving in his mansion, my virginity has been a weight around my neck. I’ve been ashamed, timid, and at times even terrified of all the rigors my master has put me through. But each time my fears were unfounded. Each time my master subjected me not to another horror, but rather another release, a new and exciting chance to push my body closer to the rapture I know this final lesson will bring.
A tiny voice screams that I’m about to be raped, that my deranged kidnapper is about to strip me of the very last shred of innocence I have left, but I just tell that voice to go to Hell. I want this. I need this. Dear God, I need this so badly. So what if I lose the last bit of my self respect, maybe even my soul. It will be worth it.
It will be so worth it.
I wait for my master to say “dinsi,” but instead I hear “pela” leave his lips. I look up at him. He points a finger at Miss Priss’s pussy, and then I understand.
Pela.
The bitch’s ass is still raised up high in the air. I crawl forward and place my lips upon her cunt. His salt and her sweetness nearly overwhelm me. I lick away both her juices and my master’s seed. God, I know I should be sickened by this, but I’m not. I’m really not.
If anything, every taste of their sex just makes me hungry for more. I breathe in deeply. I bury my nose, my lips, my whole mouth inside this woman’s pussy, and when I hear her gasps rise up from the pillows I push in even further.
More.
I need more.
I need so much more!
There’s a creak ahead of me, and when I look up, the bedroom door is open. White Coat stands in the doorway along with another man I’ve never met before. Master invites them in. I hadn’t even felt him leave the bed, but there he is, his black robe bound loosely around him and his arm reaching forward to shake this stranger’s waiting hand.
Master catches my eye, and I can tell from just a glance that I’ve done enough. I lick my lips and back away from the still-moaning blonde. The stranger smiles broadly beneath his handlebar mustache.
“Alore!” the man says, and in front of me Miss Priss goes rigid.
My pulse quickens. Slowly the blonde lifts her head. Those green eyes of hers never leave the stranger’s face as he takes a step forward and says once more, “Alore.”
She throws herself off the bed before I can even blink.
I’m shocked at first. I’ve never seen Miss Priss move with anything other than graceful disdain, but now she can barely keep her arms beneath her, and all because a simple stranger told her to come.
No, not a stranger, I think. This is her master. Her real master.
The longer I watch them, the more certain I am. The man with the handlebar mustache stares down at Miss Priss with the same appreciative longing that my master bestows upon me. His hands roam across her body knowingly. He whispers soft, foreign words into her hair, and she croons back with fervent devotion.
Behind them, Master chuckles and even White Coat cracks a smile. I listen to the three of them talk, and even though I can’t understand a word of what they’re saying, the camaraderie is unmistakable.
They’re all friends. Good friends, probably. I guess they’d have to be close if they’re each so willing to as
sist my master in breaking me.
Breaking me…
My heart pounds as I realize the truth of it.
I’d become so caught up in the pleasure of my new life, that I’d almost forgotten the reality. I’m being broken, trained, forced into slavery.
My arms shake. I watch the man with the handlebar mustache lead Miss Priss away. Her eyes never leave his face. She leans down to lick his boots as he stops to say one last goodbye to Master, and she follows him out without even a flicker of hesitation.
Is that what I look like?
Is that what I’ve already become?
My breath comes out in hitching jerks as Master closes the door on his two friends. I know I should be ready, receptive. I’d wanted this so badly just minutes before, but now…
Now I can’t think of anything but Miss Priss’s tongue licking the mud off that man’s shoes, and my stomach heaves. I can all too easily picture myself doing the same thing.
Dear God, how sick am I?
I turn my eyes to the bed sheets as Master walks towards me. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let him know I’m having doubts. I’m supposed to be his good girl. He wants me to be a willing slave, and as long as I am, he trusts me.
And I oh-so-desperately need that trust, especially now.
His hand touches my shoulder. It’s all I can do not to pull away.
Get a hold of yourself, Adair, I scream into my mind. You can do this. You have to do this. You…
His hand drifts to my cunt and for no good reason I start to cry.
Oh, Lord, how much more of a fuck up can I be?
I’m not surprised when Master’s hand moves to my back. He rubs steady circles into my skin, and his soft, deep voice slowly calms me down.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
He waits until all my sobs are gone before he finally orders, “Dinsi.”
I lower my chest upon the duvet obediently.
My breath comes out in trembling fits, and my whole body shakes, but at least I’m not fighting him. I can do this. I know I can. I just have to get past these nerves, that’s all. Seeing Miss Priss with her Master, realizing that her only purpose here was to be used as a model of what I’m expected to become, well, the shock of that epiphany was almost too much to handle. It’s no wonder I’m jittery.
But still, that’s no excuse.
I’m expected to perform. I’m supposed to be like Miss Priss. I have to be like Miss Priss if I ever want to be free again, and freedom is something I want. Yes, it’s something I need. Even though the thought of escape only rarely crosses my mind now, I know I can’t give it up. Freedom is hope. It’s real and right and pure and everything I should ever strive to attain.
But if that’s so, then why does submission come so much more naturally than disobedience?
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Such thoughts can wait until tomorrow. Right now I need to focus. I need to get through this final act of depravity, and then…then…
Then I’ll just repeat it over and over again for days, months, maybe even years to come.
The pain of that thought pierces me more deeply than any cock could ever hope to penetrate.
My master’s lips kiss my spine.
“Shh, Isa,” he whispers. “Shh.”
His breath tickles across my back, my ass, and then all the way down to the slit between my legs. I wait for his cock to plunge inside of me, but instead of a dick, I feel a strong, warm tongue brush the lips of my pussy.
His mouth descends upon me, and I gasp
Oh, dear Lord in heaven!
I’d once thought Miss Priss was the master of this art, but I was mistaken. Oh, God, I was so mistaken.
Master uses his lips, his tongue, even his teeth to coax me from a reluctant lover into a more than willing victim.
I should hate him for these little manipulations, but I don’t.
Dear God, I don’t.
The hunger is back. My body aches for more, and no number of shameful admonitions can stop it from giving in to this man’s touch.
I need him.
I need his cock inside me, and I need it now.
My mind cries out that I’m just a filthy whore, but what does it matter? This is what I’ve been trained to be. After giving in to his conditioning for so long, what hope could I possibly have of rebelling now?
None.
I have no hope at all.
I’m an animal. I’m his animal. His gasping, needy, slut of an animal.
Tears course down my cheeks. His mouth finally leaves me and the pressure of his dick takes its place. I sob into the covers, but for the life of me I can’t tell if I’m crying out of shame or rather the relief of finally feeling his manhood enter me for the first time.
His flesh fills my insides, and I suck in a trembling breath.
No number of vibrators or dildos could ever compare to the feeling of him. I’m trembling. He pauses to rub my back, and even though I’m grateful for the tiny comfort, my hunger is still so overwhelming.
More, Master. Please, give me more.
He chuckles when I whimper plaintively over my shoulder, and then I feel him thrust inside me, and…and…
Oh, God, there are just no words to describe it.
I buck against the sheets. I fill the bedroom with a symphony of carnal grunts and growls that can’t even begin to express the heat and passion flowing through me.
I need more. I beg for it, and my master gives it to me readily.
So readily.
Master’s fingers dig into the muscles of my hips. He pulls me closer. He thrusts his cock deeper and deeper yet. His quick, heavy breaths are almost an echo of my own, and I…I…
I can’t think. I can’t fight. I can’t do anything but submit wholly and completely to the man now possessing my body.
And that submission brings me more joy than I’ve ever felt.
I’m yours, Master. I’m no longer responsible. I’m no longer ashamed or afraid. I’m no longer even myself. I’m your pet, your creature, your animal.
I’m your Isa.
I cry out high and clear as unrestrained passion ripples through me. I come again and again and again.
My head falls to the mattress, and for the first time, I catch our reflection in the mirror, and what a sight that is.
Master’s robe is gone. Tight, lithe muscles ripple beneath his skin. His abdomen is a perfect six-pack, and those strong, broad shoulders flex as he pulls my hips into his.
A tuft of blonde hair falls across his forehead, and when I look up at his face, I see him staring back at me. Our gazes lock in the mirror. His lips curve into a soft, gentle smile, and his eyes hold more appreciation, more pride than I’ve ever seen before.
I steal a peak at my own reflection, and the creature staring back at me is a being I’ve never met. Her legs are long and sleek. Her body is curved into a beautiful bow of submission. Sweat glistens across her flawless skin, and her face…
Her face is the epitome of unadulterated bliss, of serenity…of perfection.
I’m perfect.
For the first time in my life I feel perfect, and I have only my master to thank for this transformation.
And I so want to thank him.
I yield up every last bit of my soul to him, and Master takes it readily. He brands me with his seed. He thrusts one last time, harder, deeper, more powerfully than ever before, and I cry out in rapture.
I’m yours, Master. Now I’m completely yours.
Slowly he pulls himself out of me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his lap. His right hand traces the contours of my breasts, my waist, my hips, all the way down to the slit between my legs, and I part my thighs at his touch. I feel his fingers delve inside me. I breathe heavy and deep as he traces light circles against my insides.
I desperately wait for him to speak. I need him to tell me I’m good. Please, dear Lord, let me have been good. But he’s silent. Even when
he holds his soiled fingers up to my chin, he still doesn’t speak. He just watches as I lean forward to lick our juices off his skin. I clean every fingernail, every knuckle, and when I’m finally done I lick my lips and wait for more.
His smile widens.
“Sona, Isa. Sona, sona, sona, sona!”
He hugs me hard against his chest. He kisses my forehead, my nose, my chin, and then my lips.
It’s the first time he’s ever kissed my lips.
His tongue traps my own. His lips overwhelm me with their power, their passion, and only the steady support of his hand behind my head keeps me from melting into the bed sheets.
He loves me.
My master loves me.
I know this as surely as I know I’ve lost any remaining hope of escape. I belong to this man now. I’m his pet, his perfect little Isa, and that’s all I want to be.
That’s all I ever want to be.
Chapter Eleven
My life shatters into a series of moments.
I’m crawling through tall grass. Dandelions tickle my sun-warmed skin. Master gives my leash a tug, and I lay my chest upon a bed of daffodils before arching my hips into the air. His fingers stroke my clit softly and then he’s inside me, his cock thrusting harder, deeper as I press my ass into him, desperate to feel every last inch. My moans and pants fill the garden.
I’m kneeling in my tub. White Coat’s soapy hands caress my body. Bubbles cling to me from head to toe. His words are soft, and he strokes my hip gently before pressing the nozzle of his hose into my cunt. He turns on the water full force, and I gasp. Massaging streams pulse through me, up me, and I writhe in the tub as I come again and again and again. Master watches from the open doorway.
I’m straddling my scratching post. My hips pump against the stationary cock as I gasp and moan beneath my gag. Master’s eyes turn to me. His book lowers. He leaves his spot on the sofa and pulls a chair in front of me. I’m riding the post hard now. My hips move automatically. Smiling, he leans down and removes my gag. He unbuttons his pants. My lips are on his cock before he even commands it. We come at the same time.
Only vaguely do I realize how fucked up I’ve become.
Ever since that night Master finally took my virginity, it’s been so easy to succumb to the pleasure of it all. Just submit. Obey. That’s all I have to do. Freedom doesn’t weigh upon me anymore. The urge to escape is almost nonexistent. Some days I even wonder if it won’t just fade away completely.