Thrilling Rape Fantasies - Illustrated

CHAPTER TWO- THE SECOND DAY

Alison spends a restless night, her sleep disturbed by a series of uneasy dreams. Big black snakes crawl up her legs, trying to squirm their way underneath her dress and beneath her panties into her pussy and nudging at her tender rectum. She tries to push them away but she has no strength in her arms, which flop around limply like spaghetti. She wants to scream but only little cooing and squeaking noises come out, encouraging her assailants on. The head of one black snake turns into the leering black face of Leroy, who laughs at her sadistically. Another snake metamorphosizes into her boss Mr. Slate, impassively watching her torment. His forked tongue licks out at her tender clit, which rises in anticipation. Her hips buck uncontrollably as he bites her tender little nookie, injecting his poison, which strangely does not kill her but merely makes her swoon in girlish surrender as her cunt gushes moisture. Her mother glares down at her, telling her she should be punished… punished for being such a slut. The lovely girl writhes and moans in her sleep, her hands unconsciously caressing her moistening slit, the sheets wet with her perspiration, a knot of anxiety in her belly that rises up into her throat. In another dream she finds herself naked in front of a bunch of faceless men, standing in a spotlight next to a post in a darkened room. She tries to cover herself with her hands but unseen hands grab her and shackle her wrists and ankles to the obelisk tightly so that her belly is pressed up against it. Looking back over her shoulder, she sees a hooded man dressed all in black limbering up a long black leather whip. He raises it up over his head… At the first blow, Alison snaps out of her slumber, awakening with a start, trembling in fear. It is four AM. Finally she falls back into a deep and dreamless slumber, not stirring until noon the next day.

When the petite blonde does wake up, the sun is already high in the sky and she feels much better, except for a kind of queasy feeling in her stomach whenever she thinks of what happened to her. Except for a couple of darkish red marks across her ass and a little soreness inside the little cutie is not too much the worse for wear. She may be mentally scarred but her face doesn't show it. She still looks as innocent as she ever did, her high arching brow uncreased by suffering or care. Fiona has already been up for hours and is ready with some coffee and pastries, already dressed for the day in some kind of hot pants and halter combo with ankleboots. There are red marks around her wrists that she hasn't bothered to try to hide. Alison wonders what her perverse little roommate has been up to. The blonde finishes her coffee, then goes to take a shower, brush her teeth, fix her hair and makeup like any other normal day. She puts on perfume and earrings, shrugging herself into a lacy push up bra and panty set of black nylon. Alison stretches her lithe body and wonders what to wear… maybe a pantsuit.

She puts on a black one which covers her from neck to ankle, zipping it up to her throat. Then she goes and sits demurely on the couch, sipping her second cup of coffee and idly listening to some pop music on the stereo. Fiona bustles around in the background, washing dishes and then making them both some lunch. The hot-looking little brunette brings them both some tuna fish salad or something and they both sit down companionably to eat their diet lunch and watch some daytime TV as Fiona speculates amusingly about what she would do with her favorite hunks. Alison is loosening up a little now, at least smiling once in a while. They finish their lunch and decide to have a little white wine… after all at least they don't have to go to work today. Maybe Fiona breaks out a couple of joints. Soon the sound of girlish giggles fills the room. The brunette sits down close by her roommate's side, suddenly becoming serious. "So are you ready to talk about it now? Maybe it would help you to sort out your feelings. Tell me what happened to you last night."

The tormented blonde haltingly begins her tale… "He was black… He was big and ugly and angry… so angry. He hurt me so much, I thought I was going to die." Fiona interrupts her… "You mean HE was big or you mean his THING was big?" "Well, both…" Alison replies, "I mean he was monstrous, an animal. He got me tied up so I couldn't escape and then whenever he wanted me to do something he just whipped me with his belt until I was ready to obey. I couldn't do a thing but cry and beg for mercy but the more I begged the harder he beat me with that awful belt." "So that's how you got those stripes," Fiona exclaims, "Good lord you look like a fucking zebra back there, honey." Alison is still well aware of the reddened welts that decorate her tender tush. She feels them every time she gingerly shifts position on the couch. She goes on, "He made me take some kind of drugs with him, and when I didn't want any more he just stuffed them inside me you know down there and in behind… I just lost control totally. He could have done anything he wanted to me… and he did! I don't know what came over me, but the worst part, the most shameful part, was that is that I begged him for more. It was so humiliating… there I was pleading for him to fuck me harder and deeper, harder and deeper…" The luscious blonde's voice trails off to a whisper.

"Honey you can't help being a woman." Fiona reassures her downcast friend. "I kinda like it harder and deeper myself sometimes… in fact all the time. I even let my boyfriends tie me up sometimes. I guess I kinda like it, being all helpless and quivering and all… It kinda gets me excited just thinking about it." "It does?" Alison asks dubiously. "Yes it does. Here I'll show you what I mean." Fiona disappears into her room and returns a moment later with something silvery in her hands. It is a pair of heavy-looking handcuffs, official police style, not some toy. "I use these all the time. You should have seen Rocky's face last night when I told him to put them on me. He almost popped his load in his pants. When a man clicks them around my wrists I feel like I belong to him completely. Is that what you're talking about?"

"Well yes, I guess so…" the recently-molested receptionist answers hesitantly. "Somehow I felt that even though he was raping me, perhaps even because he was raping me, he could make me do things that I never imagined… never believed I could. And love it… God help me I loved it. Can you imagine? Somehow by being bound I could be free… free to feel a kind of passion that my nice little boyfriends like Tom could never arouse. I must be sick… I don't know what's wrong with me. When he sodomized me, well I couldn't help it… he made me come and come and come with his big black dick up my ass. I'd never even thought of letting anyone do that to me before. Now I wonder if anyone's ever going to do it to me again…" "Do you want them to?" asks Fiona. "I don't knowww…" replies Alison coyly. Maybe if it was the right man, the right time and place…" The handcuffs sit there on the table between them, gleaming and cold. Just then the phone rings. It is Mr. Slate. He tells Fiona to take good care of Alison he's coming over in an hour or so to see how she's doing.

When Alison hears that her boss is coming over to visit, she perks right up, breaking the reverie that she and Fiona had fallen into. She goes back into her room to change and primp. Mr. Slate… coming over here… she does so want him to like her. She peels off the jumpsuit, sitting down in her low-cut black bra and high cut sheer nylon panties to fix her makeup. She brushes on a little more eyeshadow, touching up her eyeliner and mascara, changing her shade of lipstick to a bright pink-magenta that contrasts excitingly with the flawless whiteness of her skin. She perfumes her neck, her underarms and wrists and even sprays a little on her inner thighs. If things ever get that far, the innocent-looking blonde secretly giggles to herself. She goes into her lingerie drawer and pulls on a new pair of sheer black lacy-top thigh high stockings, their rubberized tops clinging damply to her flesh an inch or so below where the whiteness of her loins contrasts sharply with the tightly stretched black nylon covering her tender mound, which is unconsciously starting to sweeten itself already as she remembers Mr. Slate's commanding manner. She has no reason to think that her roommate might be jealous, since Fiona has given no indication that she is and has been for some time the boss's personal fucktoy. If anything, the brunette has encouraged her fantasies along those lines with a few well-placed hints and suggestions.

Alison slides into a lacy short slip, then pulls out a black cocktail dress for herself from her well-stocked closet. It has sheer panels on top, above the bust, and zippers up the back to a point between her narrow shoulder blades. You can clearly see the outlines of her lacy underthings through the mesh beneath the frou frou at the neckline, the black brassiere that thrusts her terrific tits up and forward. The skirt hugs her shapely ass tightly, hanging down to mid-thigh with another border or frou frou at the hem. Very cute, but it needs something. Alison selects a four inch wide black belt of spandex with a large silver clasp and buckles it tightly, pleased with the way it accentuates the slimness of her waist and the roundness of her hips. Then she pulls on a pair of strappy black patent heels, too high to be practical for much walking but then she probably won't need to go too far tonight. She admires the effect in the full length mirror, fluffing out her long blonde hair. She looks stunning. I hope it's not TOO daring, the lovely girl thinks to herself. I don't want him to think I'm some kind of whore, do I? Just some silly little secretary that can't wait to spread her legs for him?

Is that what he'll think? Alison anxiously returns to the living room to await Slate's arrival. She perches on the couch, sipping on another glass of white wine, a docile expression on her oval face. She looks with curiosity at the handcuffs still lying there on the coffee table. Surely Fiona will put them away before he gets here. It is now late in the afternoon.

"Would you like to try them on, honey?" her sultry-looking roommate suggests silkily. "See if it doesn't give you a quiver. Look I'll even let you hold the key. You can get out of them anytime you want. Just feel them." Of course the key does not really fit the cuffs, but Alison is too ignorant of such things to know that. She picks up and examines the cuffs and the short thick chain between them. They are cold and heavy in her hand. "You really let Rocky put these on you?" Fiona smiles brightly. "All right… but just for a minute…" the blonde says, snapping one bracelet around her bony little wrist. It feels icy, implacable. A little shiver of fear runs down her spine, somehow exciting a spark in her belly. Fiona is right. Once she puts them on, there will be no escaping their metallic grip. Smiling bravely, she snaps the other cuff onto her other hand, ratcheting it tightly enough to feel the bite. Alison holds her cuffed hands up in front of her, twisting them this way and that. So this is what her roommate was talking about. Suddenly she feels terribly vulnerable… what if Mr. Slate should see her like this? He'd probably want to… he'd probably think she was some kind of bondage freak. Good thing the key is laying right there on the coffee table. Alison reaches for it. Just then the doorbell rings.

It is Slate. Fiona gets up to let him in, completely ignoring her cuffed friend there on the couch. Alison in a panic struggles to fit the key into the cuffs and turn it but of course it doesn't seem to work and as she gets more and more flustered and frantic she fumbles the key and it drops onto the floor and rolls under the couch. She is still bent over on her knees with her butt up in the air trying to find it when her boss walks into the room. "Ahh… little Alison…" he says. "Are you in trouble again already?" As always, the 45ish exec looks immaculately pressed, rich but not soft. He wears his thousand-dollar suit like a coat of armor, and puts on a new custom-tailored shirt every morning. He looks like he works out a couple of times a week and always has a tan even in the middle of winter. Fiona brings him a drink as he takes off his jacket and tie and makes himself at home, sitting down in a black leather armchair as if he were the father of the house, which in fact he is. Alison squirms in humiliation as she struggles to sit back up decorously, attempting to hide her hands in the folds of her skirt. "I was just explaining to Alison how exciting it feels to wear steel." The brunette remarks conversationally. "Don't you think they make the perfect accessory?" "The girl has never looked lovelier, Fiona my pet." Slate remarks, "Tell me, Alison, I hope you are feeling better." The blonde feels his eyes traveling up her curvy nyloned legs from her tightly pinched high-heeled toes to the shadowed area between her thighs. "Y… Yes Mr.Slate… I just… needed some rest." She murmurs awkwardly. "Ahh… the amazing recuperative powers of the young," Slate sighs. "Just relax, young lady… " he commands her offhandedly. "I"ve got something here I'd like you to see." He pulls a videotape out of his briefcase and slaps it into the VCR.

Immediately the room is filled with the sounds of Alison sobbing as she begs Leroy to fuck her harder and deeper. On the screen, the girl sees herself eagerly returning her rapist's thrusts, whimpering in joy and torment. And she believed that the camera had been knocked out of action when the power failed to the elevator… oh what a fool she had been. Alison twists her hands anxiously in the steel cuffs that imprison her, squirming in mortification as every lurid detail of her drugging and subsequent anal defloration are played out in exquisite detail. She can see herself moaning and bucking herself back on her rapist's hard driving sodomising dick. Stretching her to the point of pain… pain that seemed to turn to joy as she surrendered herself totally to the dark intruder slamming deeper and deeper into her violated bowels. Now the most intimate aspects of the whole humiliating episode are displayed for her roommate and the sardonic Mr. Slate to examine in detail. Alison squirms in her manacles, rubbing her stockinged thighs together nervously. "Please… I don't want to see any more… Why are you showing me this? What do you want from me?" she pleads. "Alison, we just want you to see yourself as you really are." Says her boss, coming to sit down beside her on the couch. The young blonde trembles, feeling his powerful presence so close beside her. "As to what I will require of you, you will learn more about that later. Am I correct in assuming that you would not want anyone else to ever see this tape?" The lovely blonde nods silently. How could she ever face her friends or family if this shameful incident were to be made public? How could she ever return to her job? Not that those things are going to matter to her for long, but at this point she still has no idea of the depths into which she is about to plunge She grimaces in disgust as she sees herself slavishly licking Leroy's slimy black Johnson clean.

Slate takes Alison's two handcuffed hands from where they are twisting anxiously in her lap and holds them in one of his own. "What I demand from you, Alison, is nothing less than your total submission, body and soul. I intend to make you my slave, starting right now. From this moment on you and your body will belong to me, morning noon and night. Your only purpose in life will be to serve and obey me. Your mouth, your breasts, your belly and backside are no longer your own, but entirely under my command. First I will make you my whore. Then I will punish you. Do you understand?" The stunned and appalled Alison finds it impossible to answer: a knot of fear and anguish chokes her throat. She thought she wanted her handsome and craggy-faced boss, but not like this… not like this… All her silly romantic fantasies of moonlit nights and exotic cruises explode in a sudden poof! Still holding Alison's wrists in one hand, Slate runs the other up the trembling girl's thighs, pushing aside her skirt and grabbing her pussy firmly through the flimsy nylon of her black panties, already damp with her juices. He pushes them aside and roughly jams a couple of fingers into her tender little twat. Alison gives a shrill squeak, but allows her head to lean back on the couch behind her, closing her eyes and submissively adjusting herself to his probing digits, her mouth open and gasping.

"There's no need for you to speak, Alison, your body has answered for you," says Slate. "You see, I know you better than you know yourself." The sweet little blonde is totally intimidated and overwhelmed by this physical and psychological assault. She would agree to anything as long as he's holding her like this. His fingers squelch in and out of her hot little honeypot, finally making her moan. "I… I'll be a good girl for you, sir," she gasps, feeling very childlike in his powerful hands. "Please don't punish me…" Slate roughly pushes her away, withdrawing his burning digits from her wet little nookie. "Let's just see how obedient you can be. Stand up and take off your dress."

"What, in front of Fiona?" Yes, in front of Fiona. Now. She likes it when he gives her orders. Alison struggles with her cuffed hands to undo the belt around her waist, then she wiggles and squirms delightfully trying to get out of the tight cocktail dress. There's no way. "I just can't…" There's no way she can get her dress unzipped and up over her head with her hands cuffed in front of her like this. "You're a fucking failure as a slave already, Alison… you're going to need a lot of training." Slate tells her with a menacing grin. "Put your hands up over your head." The submissive secretary complies, holding her tightly-cuffed wrists up high. Slate steps up close behind her. She holds herself still, remembering how she stood before her rapist in just the same position. Only then she was tied… Why does she not bring her hands down from over her head to protect herself from the man as he strips off her dress and slip, leaving her in nothing but her lacy black lingerie? Why doesn't she try to stop the hands that continue to fondle and stroke her lush curves as she holds herself motionless in his grasp, her arms stretched up towards the ceiling, opening her pink lipsticked mouth to let him stick his tongue down her throat. The hands that pull and twist on her hardening nipples through the lacy cup of the bra, hurting them, making her gasp into his mouth. He breaks off, leaving her panting. "Yes, you'll be a good girl for me…" he muses. "A good little fucking whore. Anyone can see that that is what you were made for." She looks up at him, wide eyed, eating it up. "You can put your hands down now. Go and get me a drink."

She walks off towards the kitchen without a word, her white ass cheeks still faintly welted and jiggling as she gracefully balances on her very high heels, slipping easily into this new role… Slave… Sex slave… yes I guess that's what you'd call it. Sex slave… She feels the bite of the steel cuffs on her wrists as she fiddles around in the kitchen getting ice and putting it in a glass, etc, turning the words over in her mind, wondering why they seem to excite her so. Will he keep me cuffed like this all the time? She wonders. I guess I'll just have to get used to doing things this way. She has to admit that having her hands manacled makes her think twice about disobeying him, makes her feel naughty, provocative… She keenly feels the exposure of her flesh, her scanty undergarments only enticing further exploration. When will he put his hands back on her, in her? A knot of anxiety gathers in her stomach, her sheer nylon panties clinging damply to her shamelessly moistening slit.

Meanwhile, Fiona has gone off to a walk-in closet in the hall and drags out a largish trunk, pulling it across the floor and into Alison's room. You can hear her opening it and unpacking stuff. Alison returns from the kitchen with a scotch on the rocks in her hand, setting it down on the coffee table in front of her boss and standing there quietly, her eyes lowered and her cuffed hands in front of her. He just sits there staring at her for a few minutes and she starts to squirm restlessly… Finally he orders her to get down on her knees. She watches silently as he pulls a glass vial out of his pocket, similar to the one that Leroy was carrying. He shakes out a half a gram or so of some white powder onto the smooth marble top of the coffee table, separating it into lines and laying a small glass straw in front of her. Alison's heart sinks within her, remembering the powerful effects of the substance. She knows that once she does it, once the drugs hit her bloodstream, she will have absolutely no control over herself. "Do…do I have to…?" she asks hesitantly… "Is that an order?" "Yes, you stupid fucking cunt that's an order!" Slate replies impatiently. "Or would you like me to shove it up your ass?" Alison bends over the coffee table, her butt cheeks straining at the thin fabric of her panties as she compliantly snorts up four or five lines… enough so that she's really flying. Her head is spinning and her heart is pounding wildly in her chest as Slate helps her to her feet and kisses her deeply. She melts in his arms. He leads her back towards the bedroom. "Let's see what Fiona has been up to in there." he says.

Alison's girlish bedroom has been transformed. Laid out and arranged around the room are every bondage and fetishistic item ever known to man. Corsets of leather, satin and brocade. Whips, paddles and belts of every description. Plugs, dildos and vibrators large and small, some with straps to keep them on or in. Straps, chains and fetters, gags, blindfolds, collars and cuffs. clips clamps and fasteners. Lubricants and rubber underwear. Boots and shoes with six and seven inch heels. Bizarre looking earrings, necklaces and bracelets. A variety of O rings have been screwed into the frame of her four-poster bed, presumably to fasten her with. On her dressing table is a steaming tub of hot water, a towel, shave cream and a straight razor. "Let's get this little bitch shaved…" Slate commands. He hands Alison off to Fiona, who gently pushes the dazed and compliantly-stoned girl down on her back on the bed, her hands still cuffed in front of her. The brunette climbs up onto the bed and squats over Alison's chest, pulling her manacled wrists up over her head and fastening them to a convenient ring mounted there at the head of the bed. Alison lays there staring up into space vacantly, breathing hard, her legs squirming. Fiona moves down her body, deftly slitting the straps of her bra and removing it, freeing her softly rounded breasts, her nipples slowly hardening in the breeze. She slowly peels the blonde's panties down, exposing her quivering quim. Slate gazes down at her impassively, the straight razor in his hand glinting menacingly in the light. "Get her legs up!" he commands.

The dark-haired girl quickly fastens a pair of leather cuffs to her roommate's shapely ankles right over the straps of her high heels and fastens longish chains to the leather cuffs. Feeding the chain through the O rings mounted at the top posts of the bed, Fiona draws them tight, pulling Alison's feet up and up until they're in the air up there by her ears somewhere. The girl is violently quartered, her hips tilted up and her whole pussy and asscrack spread open wide. "That looks better…" says Slate, sitting down between Alison's legs at the foot of the bed. Alison is breathing hard, truly frightened now. She has never felt so totally exposed. Slate pats her wide-spread mound possessively. She squirms as best she's able, her clit obediently standing up and begging for attention. He caresses it idly, testing her. She jumps like she'd been stuck with a red-hot pin. Yeah this bitch is primed. Alison stares down at him over her breasts and belly, her eyes open wide. He picks up the can of shaving gel and squirts some around over the wide-stretched blonde's lower belly, working it up into a lather over her crotch and between her buttocks. "From now on you will keep your little snatch shaved clean for me always, Alison. Fiona will be glad to assist you if you wish." "That sounds nice…" the fucked-up blonde murmurs demurely, "But will she have to tie me like this?"

Slate smirks to himself, aware of the slightly teasing tone of her reply. This one has slipped so easily into the role… he sure had her pegged all right. He takes the straight razor to her little blonde muffin. Whisk whisk whisk he scrapes the fur from above her tender slit, working carefully around her swollen and upstanding clit and down her pouting pussy lips, stretching the skin tightly and then scraping it bare. The coldness of the razor in contact with her moist tender parts makes her shiver, and her brow furrows as she puts all of her concentration into holding herself perfectly still, terrified by the proximity of the blade as the man deliberately shaves a few little hairs from around her wrinkled asshole. Oh god… Her skin where he has shaved it is as smooth and sensitive as a baby's. A baby… that's what she feels like… childlike and dependant… innocent and trusting. Somewhere in another part of her mind, alarm bells are screaming but they seem muted and far away… Fiona reaches over to spray an atomizer on her newly-denuded crotch. It is some sort of perfume, which burns her as the alcohol dries and evaporates on the tender private parts. Fiona sprays more in her armpits, between her breasts, etc. It is a heavy floral scent but with a tang of something else… something musky. Yes there it is the unmistakable aroma of female in heat. Eau de cunt. The perfume is laced with female pheromones guaranteed to get any man's nose open. Alison's mind drifts aimlessly for a moment, coming back to alertness when her legs are finally lowered. It feels so good to be able to relax them. Fiona removes the chains but leaves the cuffs on. Her hands are still manacled and fastened above her head.

"With a figure like yours, Alison, you were made for corsets." Says Slate. "Why don't you try on this black one here…" he asks facetiously, picking one out from the big black chest in the corner. It is patent leather, long and lined in silk, with half cups in front designed to thrust their contents up and forward. He helps Alison up from the bed, taking her by the arm and guiding her to the doorway, refastening her hands to a hook in the doorframe over her head. Standing there with her back to him in the doorway to her own room, surrounded by shining leather and metal gear, the beautiful blonde knows that her life has changed forever. On the television in the other room, Alison sees herself in the bathroom last night, douching her rapist's semen from her vagina and anus. She has lost all right to privacy or concealment, even in the bathroom. Slate fastens the hooks and eyes of the corset around her. It is heavy duty, stiffly boned with flexible metal strips and severe enough to reduce her already slender twenty two inch waistline to a mere eighteen inches if it is tightened to its maximum. Slate ties it very tightly indeed, pulling relentlessly on the yards of lacing up and down her back, making it meet. Stretched out as she is, there's no way for her to resist the inexorable tightening of the shiny black leather around her middle, pushing her belly and waistline in and her diaphragm up, forcing her to breathe in shallow gasps and thrusting her rear impudently out behind. When he has laced her up as tight as the corset will permit, he wraps the loose laces around her body at the waist and ties them in a double knot at the back. He then takes a four inch wide black leather belt with several rows of holes pierced through it and a sturdy triple buckle from Fiona and cinches it around her over the corset laces, buckling it very tight. Alison's whole torso is now seized in a doubly iron grip, which forces her to stand stiffly erect and accentuates the fullness of her breasts and the swelling of her hips. She feels as though she can barely breathe, that she might snap at any moment. The constriction of her waist seems to force the blood up into her head, making her temples pound, and down into her belly where her sweetly-shaved little honeypot contrasts excitingly with the black leather and lace surrounding it. Slate fastens the six or eight garters from the bottom of her corset to her lacy stocking tops, stretching them tightly to the tops of her thighs. "From now on, Alison, you're going to wear a corset every day."

Slate lets the girl hang there as he describes his future plans for her, warming to his subject. He reaches up and clicks the handcuffs a notch tighter around her wrists, making them bite into her wristbones painfully at the slightest movement. Her fingers wiggle and writhe futilely, flashing glints off her long polished pink fingernails. She looks anxiously back over her shoulder at him as he stands behind her, the front of his trousers just brushing against her temptingly bare buttocks that jut so invitingly from the shiny black patent leather that encircles her hips. You can still see the faint traces of the darker stripes where Leroy had marked her with his belt. "You're going to need a lot of training, Alison…" Slate remarks, reaching around in front of her to cup and fondle her freshly-shaved slit, making the bound and corseted girl's knees buckle as she hangs there from the hook above her head. "I'm going to see to it that you are under strict supervision twenty four hours a day. I will select your wardrobe, tell you what to wear and when and with who to take it off. My lovely young personal assistant here, your roommate, will carry out my instructions for you when I cannot be present. You will do as she tells you, remembering that a word from her is a command from me. If you refuse, you will be forced. If you resist or struggle, you will be whipped. Remember that if Fiona has any difficulty in controlling you, reinforcements are quickly available."

With that, Slate pushes a red button on a small hand-held beeper device. Within seconds, there are heavy footsteps in the hall, and three burly leg-breaker types crowd through the doorway to the apartment in their cheap suits. "Hey boss, what's the problem? Seems like you have the situation pretty well under control…" Slate turns Alison around so that she is facing the living room and the three men standing there, her hands still bound to the hook over her head, her body squeezed into the restrictive black corset. "This is my new little bitch Alison." Says Slate sardonically. "Ain't she a thoroughbred? You'll keep her safe for me boys, won't you?"

"Yeah boss… nobody comes or goes without you say so… I got it." "And if Fiona needs you for anything, you'll be available to help her out?" Slate inquires. "Lookin' forward to it, boss…" says the hulking bouncer type, his piggish eyes glittering as he frankly ogles the bound girl before him. "Say hello to Tony…" sez Slate, "And this here is Mickey and Luis. No doubt you'll be seeing more of them, and they of you." Alison tries to smile awkwardly at the three goons standing in front of her, who have in fact become her jailors. Her girlish bedroom is now full of men who it seems can come and go as they please. She presses her stockinged thighs together, trying to conceal her freshly-shaved slit. "I'd shake hands with you, but you see how things are…" the enslaved secretary says softly. "Yeah, honey… we see all right. Catch you later, boss…" The three thugs saunter back out of the apartment and down the hall. "I own this whole floor…" says Slate, "In fact the whole building. But this apartment is kind of special. I've had it soundproofed for one thing, and a number of useful devices have been installed. Useful for schooling and conditioning young women like you. Don't think that you're the first or will be the last. To me, you're just another little twat I'm training… You got that?" Alison nods silently, her eyes downcast, once again more or less thoroughly put in her place… Twat in training.

"I've got several more apartments like this across town…" Slate explains, "each with other women living in it, all young and beautiful girls. You might say that training sluts is a hobby of mine…" He explains to her that nothing gives him more pleasure in life than the control he exerts over his little sex slaves. He even runs what you might call a small call-girl service, not so much for the money it brings in as for the enjoyment he finds in seeing his female trainees being forced to entertain many strange men. Slate plans to make sure that Alison gets fucked four or five times a day. He hopes that the sweet little blonde has learned to enjoy being sodomized because she is going to get it that way often from now on. He himself is going to fuck her hard up the ass every single time he sees her, starting with today. She may be punished, penetrated or pierced in any way and at any time or place that amuses him. "But what about my job… my family… my life…" Alison begins to protest. "Forget about all that silly meaningless shit, cupcake… You were made for just one thing… to serve my dick." Alison's knees are shaking as he calmly outlines his plans for her, looking into her liquid blue eyes as he holds her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him and meet his gaze. Finally, he releases her hands from the ring in the doorway and walks her back to the bed, his hand firmly on her arm. She can hardly walk, with the corset squeezing her so tightly around the middle. "Don't worry, honey, you'll get used to it…" Fiona says knowingly, noting her discomfort. Fiona… that bitch, thinks her roommate. She set me up. I'd like to scratch her fucking eyes out. Slate pushes her down on the bed. "Get me a collar and some cuffs, Fiona… and a size twelve butt plug." He orders the sultry brunette.

Alison squirms there sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing up at her boss, her manacled hands resting in her lap, her anxious thighs rubbing together. She's still pretty stoned from the stuff she snorted an hour or so ago, although Slate's diatribe has had a somewhat sobering effect. Time seems to have become stretched out somehow… She feels unreal and detached, yet still very much present in the physical sense. Her body thrums with excitement and fear. She wants to be good for him… she'll try to be good for him, in spite of her resentment over the way she has been suckered by her slutty roommate. On the TV screen in the other room, she sees a closeup of Fiona tonguing her to orgasm on the day they shaved. Fiona knew all along, of course. The dark haired girl now returns to her bedside with a wooden box bound in metal, containing an assortment of collars and cuffs. They are of steel covered with black leather, slightly padded on the inside with some quilted material, and possessed of their own locking mechanisms. Around the outside of these objects, several rings provide ample opportunities to attach fastenings. "You will wear this collar and these cuffs as long as you are with me…" sez Slate, fitting the black choker around her neck and clicking it closed with a audible and final-sounding metallic snap. He changes the handcuffs for matching wrist bands, Fiona helping him to hold the blonde's arms as he makes the switch. Alison struggles slightly, ineffectually. The collar and cuffs fit her tightly but not painfully so.

They press her down backwards on the bed, pulling her hands up over her head once again and stretching her arms wide. "How do you want her, boss?" Fiona inquires. "Like before… " he says. "With her legs up and spread…" Once more Alison's cuffed ankles are hoisted up until they are up by her shoulders and then fastened there at the top of the bed, her knees doubled back. It's a good thing Alison had all those dance classes back when she was in high school to keep her limber and flexible. With her feet pulled up over her head like this and the tight corset compressing her middle, the luscious little receptionist can't move a muscle. She can barely breathe. "We've got lots of more surprises for you, Alison…" her craggy-faced employer gloats. "This is how I like to see you, spread wide and open for me. You look very cute like that, but maybe you could use a few accessories… Yes, accessories make the look. You wouldn't mind wearing this for a little while, would you?"

"This" is a black, somewhat flexible rubber appliance, about a foot long and an inch and a half thick, with a flaring base to which are attached three little straps or chains. The man waves it around in front of her face, making sure she can get a good look at it. Wear it? How? Slate rests the heel of his palm on the young secretary's freshly denuded mons, holding her steady. Dipping the head of the object in a jar of warm lubricant, he smears some of the stuff around between her widely separated ass cheeks, prodding at the bound girl's tiny wrinkled butt hole. He works some of the stuff in there with his finger, penetrating her roughly. The inside of her ass is squishy and still feels clean. Her sphincter grips his finger tightly as the girl moans weakly, her lips parting to reveal a couple of pearly white teeth. He slips another couple of fingers up Alison's moistening cunt, sawing them in and out as she lies there helplessly gasping. "I'll be good sir, I'll be good…" Holding her immobile by the fingers firmly hooked in her twat, Slate forces the head of the plug up into Alison's bruised and delicate anus, making her wince. Never stopping his relentless pressure, in a matter of moments he corkscrews the whole thing into her to the hilt until her pinkish rectal membranes are squelching and gripping futilely at its wide base. Then he fastens the straps on the thing to little rings mounted at the bottom hem of the corset, two in front on either side of her perfumed little pussy and one running up the crack of her ass in the back, cinching them up tight. Now that it's locked in there good and solid, there's no way the sweet blonde will be able to remove or expel it. She'll just have to wear it until somebody decides to take it out. It's not so thick as to be terribly painful, but she is certain to always be aware of the long shaft stretching and penetrating her, the head wiggling around somewhere deep inside her guts.

"Just part of your training, Alison. You have a lovely ass, but it's a little too hard to get into. You really need more practice. So sometime late every afternoon, Fiona or whoever else is around will fasten one of these instruments inside you, which you will then be made to wear until it is time for your nightly whipping. You will note that this is only a size twelve. That is twelve inches long and an inch and a half thick. Let me show you a size eighteen…" It's a good six inches longer and easily twice as thick. "Every day, we will select a larger one for you. By the end of a week, your delicate rear should be much more accommodating." Alison's eyes close in fear after taking in the sight of the monstrous black rectum-stretcher she knows she will be wearing soon. Her arms and legs and hips are starting to ache from being bound so tightly in this extreme position. She doesn't know why, but somehow having her rear stuffed up like this makes her clit stand up and beg for attention. Slate notices this and gives it a few contemptuous flicks. The blonde bites her lip to keep from yelping. "Your little clitty feels neglected, doesn't it, Alison? Don't worry… we've got something for that too. Fiona, hand me some clips…"

The bound receptionist's eyes pop open as she feels her boss seize her nakedly exposed clitoral shaft between his fingers, feels the bite of sharp little metal teeth fastening around the madly pulsating bud of flesh at the top of her slit. Slate adjusts the tension and then fastens a fine chain to the clip on her clit, pulling it upward and threading it through another small ring in the bottom edge of the corset. Now even her clit is in bondage, the little hood of flesh above it pulled up and back to make it stand out prominently. Slate quickly teases her sweet pink nipples out of the lacy half-cups of the corset and subjects them to similar treatment, fastening similar clips to the tender, hardening buds and connecting them with a silvery chain. "Wait until I get you pierced, you little slut…" What does he mean? Alison is beyond thinking. The manacles holding he limbs, the corset tightly laced around her, the clips biting into and pinching her most tender spots, the long phallic intruder filling her backside have her complete attention. Never in her life has she felt so totally dominated and controlled. Slate's voice seems to echo in her ears, resonating through her. Her Master's words, she thinks… using the word for the first time. Yes… Yes my master she thinks, surrendering to him utterly.

Meanwhile, Fiona has been off in the corner cooking something up. When she returns, she holds in her hands a silver tray covered with a white napkin, on which has been laid out an assortment of IV drug paraphernalia. Some alcohol swabs, glass bottles of some unknown liquid with those rubber stoppers on the top that you stick the needle through, and an assortment of hypodermic needles and syringes, laid out in size order. These range from little insulin needles a half an inch long and as slender as a hair to three-inch horse stickers in gauge eighteen, and everything in between. There are syringes of one and three and ten cc. They are the old-fashioned kind, all chrome and glass. No plastic here. The sharp medicinal smell of alcohol makes the bound blonde open her eyes in alarm. "Wanna play doctor, Alison?" asks her roommate. Alison examines the gleaming instruments out of the corner of her eye… " Oh no… no no please… no not that no needles… please no needles…" she babbles in terror.

"Don't worry, sweetie, you're gonna enjoy this. All the little whores are doing it…" says the dark-haired girl, sitting down at the edge of the bed and fitting a fine half-inch needle onto the end of a 3cc syringe. She then sticks the needle into the bottle of liquid and carefully draws out a syringeful of solution, being careful to squeeze out the air bubbles. "It's nothing you haven't done before… actually it's a new synthetic that some of the boys at the drug lab cooked up. It's really the just same as what you snorted before, only in more concentrated form, and mixed with a little anesthetic to make the injections less painful." She hands the filled syringe to Slate, returning to her work to make several more. Each syringe has a longer needle attached than the last. One inch, two inch, three inch… It looks like the adorable secretary is in for a long series of difficult, probing injections.

"Give me a couple of more clips here, Fiona…" the man demands. These he fastens to Alison's inner labia, drawing a squeak of shocked surprise from the terrified young woman, and stretches them out to the sides, tying them to the straps of her garter so that they are held open widely. Slate then takes his left hand and presses down firmly on the blonde's belly as is quakes in fear, holding her steady, the hypodermic between the fingers of his other hand as he holds it up where she can see it. "Hold still, Alison," he warns her seriously… "I wouldn't want to injure you." He lowers his hand between her legs, bringing the syringe up between the lips of her slit. The frightened and trembling girl can no longer see what he is doing. Suddenly, she feels the ultra-sharp point of the needle right there, just underneath her ultra-sensitive clipped clit. Oh Goddd… the young lovely holds her breath.

Tied and fastened as she is, her whole inner workings are exposed to him, her inner labia spread wide, the coral-colored entrance to her vagina pried open for his inspection. With a quick thrust, Slate sinks the half-inch needle into Alison's quivering clit shaft from underneath, spearing it right through the middle. The girl lets out her breath in a whooshing gasp. It doesn't hurt as much as she thought, but she is scared… very, very scared. She can feel the sharp point of the needle buried inside her most sensitive area just behind the head of her clit. "How do you like having my needle in your twat?" Alison gazes down at him in shocked silence, mute with fear. Slate shifts his grip on the syringe to depress the glass plunger, injecting about half of the clear liquid dynamite into the terrified girl, frowning in intent concentration as he works. Immediately a warm tingling starts to spread through her throbbing nerve endings where the lance has penetrated her. After a few seconds, the girl can hardly feel the bite of the clip on her tender joy button any more. She is still aware of the needle piercing her, but the sharp stinging pain has been replaced by a pleasant warm throbbing and a vague feeling of fullness. Slate withdraws the needle slightly, then probes again, injecting more drugs to the left and right of where he put the first batch, looking for new and more sensitive spots. The area begins to swell slightly.

Alison closes her eyes and lays her head back against the pillows behind her as she feels the hot tingling excitement radiating up within her belly from her punctured pussy and Slate withdraws the first syringe, now empty. Her sphincter reflexively clenches and milks on the long black appliance still fastened deep up her ass. Her master takes another of the syringes Fiona has filled for him, with a longer one inch needle, still in 25 gauge. Bending down to his work, he slowly threads it up and into her swollen and throbbing clit shaft from underneath, not stopping until the chrome nut at the base of the needle bumps up against her hot little joy button. The surgically sharp point is now buried somewhere behind her clit hood, where the tight little bundle of nerves originates within her body. Admiring the contrast between the hard steeliness of the needle violating her and the soft smooth pinkness of the girl's pierced sex flesh, he slowly squeezes plenty of solution in there, seeking the root. As before, he pulls about half the length of the needle back out of her and stabs it home again this way and that, skewering her clit on the length of it, injecting more drugs as he goes like a dentist does inside your gums. He empties the syringe, finally pulling the needle free and tossing it aside, then goes for another with a terrifying two inch lance. Alison's whole clit and the top of her pussy are now pulsing with heat, sparkling scintillas of excitement running up and down her spine and mixing with a warm dreamy glow that builds inside her. She looks more relaxed now, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open… He stabs the third syringe into her, two inches of chrome moly steel spearing up, up behind her clitoral shaft, seeking new places deeper inside her that haven't been touched yet, new nerve endings and places Alison never believed could be touched from the outside. Slate can tell by her gasps when his probing lance touches a still sensitive area and her sighs when the drugs flow into it. With the point of the shining hypodermic buried so deep inside her quivering cunt, Alison feels like the drugs are going straight up into her brain. She is beyond thinking now, beyond worrying about anything as she is totally riveted by the sensation of the steel shaft moving within her and the drugs flowing from it, making mindless OOOHs and OHHHs. By the time Slate squeezes the third syringe empty, Alison feels like she is going to fly off into outer space, a dizzying rush shooting through her. He pulls the instrument free from her engorged pussy flesh, removing the two inch needle from the now empty syringe. Then he carefully removes the clip from the spaced-out blonde's clit, leaving her labia still spread. Taking the girl's swollen joy button between his fingers, he thrusts the gleaming needle right through it from underneath, skewering her. Alison moans, dimly aware of what he has done but feeling little pain. Just enough… just enough to be exciting. Why oh why does it hurt so good… Why does the intensity of the fear that she feels just make her wetter and ache to be fucked, make her plugged rectum spasm and cling adoringly to the black intruder violating it?

Slate takes another, larger syringe, like a 10cc with a three inch needle, full to the brim with liquid nitro and goes to work lower down… The girl feels his fingers prying open the ragged entrance to her wide open vagina. Oh no not in there not in there… she barely has time to think this before she feels the cold point scraping at the delicate inner walls inside her. Again and again Slate jabs the steely intruder more deeply into her internal passageway, squeezing out more and more solution as he goes, until the body of the syringe is half buried inside her hot wet squishy hole. Pulling back a bit and checking the angle, he drives the whole thing straight up inside her until the long needle is penetrating an inch or two into her dimpled cervix. Then he leisurely unloads the remaining half of the contents of the big syringe right into her womb as her moist pink membranes grip the glass around its base. As more and more narcotics explode in her brain, the submissive young secretary is hovering somewhere in never never land. Her whole torso from the waist down is glowing and tingling, inside and out. "Maybe we better give this little twist a minute or two to come back to earth…" sez Fiona. Slate agrees and removes the clips from her labia, finally allowing her hairless vulva to close around the two inch needle still piercing her clit. He swabs off the visible puncture marks. They reach up and finally untie the blonde's legs from up there around her ears and stretch her still blackly-corseted body out flat on the bed, fastening her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed so that she is spread-eagled. They remove the clamps from her nipples, which now look quite red and sore. Within a few minutes the girl begins to stir feebly. Slate sips his Glenfiddich, sitting on Alison's vanity stool. His "personal assistant" decides she could use a little pick-me-up herself.

Fiona fills another syringe with uncut liquid ecstasy and peels off her hotpants and panties, sitting down in the high wing-type armchair in the corner, throwing her legs over the arms. "Help me out here, lover… it's so much better when you do it…" she coos at Slate. He kneels between her spread legs and she hands him the hypodermic. He roughly shoves a finger up her twat. She pouts down at him provocatively. Slate jabs the hypo into her outer pussylip, searching for a vein. A little blood flows back into the syringe and he presses it home, booting it in there. Fiona rocks back and forth on his finger, letting her head fall back in the high armchair as the drugs hit home.

A dopey relaxed look comes over her face. Slate pulls the needle out of her cunt and his finger from her hot hole. "Don't get too comfortable… we still have work to do," he observes, looking over at the bound Alison who is now coming to a little and starting to wiggle around on the bed, opening her eyes. She is still very very stoned, plugged and pierced. Slate gets up and stands over her, still fully clothed. "Are you sure you don't want some of this stuff?" asks Fiona. "Nah… that shit's for losers and whores."

"Our little trainee is getting anxious…" he tells Fiona. "She's not getting enough attention. Bring me the rest of that stuff… It's time to get to work on those beautiful tits…" First they fill a couple of small syringes with short needles. One of them sits on each side of Alison, each holding one of the bound girl's breasts, pushing down the corset cups so that her reddened and sore nipples are exposed. Pinching them up firmly, they insert the needles several times around the circumference of her aureoles, searching out the nerve behind, stabbing and tickling it, all the while squirting more liquid warmth into her. Alison writhes in her manacles, gasping, the plug working within her ass as her buttocks clench, the faint pain from her pierced clit sending lightning jolts up to her brain. "Please… please… please… she starts to beg incoherently. "Fiona, go gag this bitch," says Slate… "She's starting to get on my nerves." The dark-haired girl returns with a black penis-gag about four inches long and as thick as a cucumber. She forces her roommate to open her mouth and swallow it, then buckles it firmly around the back of her neck. "URK… URK… URK…" Says Alison.

"That sounds better…" says Slate. Meanwhile, he is reaching for, you guessed it, bigger syringes and longer needles. He fills them with the remaining drug solution and really goes to work on her breasts. He and Fiona stab them straight into the tips of her tender pink nippies, driving them in there a quarter of an inch at a time and squeezing out more and more narcotic/stimulant as they go. By the time they are done and the two big syringes are empty, the two long needles are buried to the hilt in her tempting tits, the chrome nubs pressed up against the very tips of her nipples and both of Alison's breasts are glowing globes of liquid ecstasy. Slate unscrews the syringes from the needles, leaving them buried in her flesh. Tears are running down the little blonde's face as she watches this fiendish procedure. It's not so much the pain as the idea of it… She knows her life will never be the same. "How do you like having your nipples and pussy pierced?" Slate taunts her. "URK…URK… URK…" is all she can say. "Well, you better get used to it… just wait until you are ringed. Then you'll never be able to forget that you're my slave. But best to let a professional install them… I'll have Fiona make an appointment for you. Would you like that?" "URK… URK… URK…." "Don't worry, honey," Fiona pipes up, "They only hurt for the first couple of weeks."

Alison closes her eyes, unable to bear looking at what has been done to her. Lying there bound and corseted, gagged drugged and pierced, she realizes that for her life as she knows it is over… there will be no going back. She has already gone too far. Her erstwhile employer intends to keep her like this, controlling every aspect of her existence from now on, and it appears that he actually has the power and the will to do so. She is fearful, yet still strangely excited at the prospect, realizing that in the end it doesn't really matter how she feels about it. It's a done deal. Her every waking moment will be supervised… she will wear what he says, go where he says, do what he says with whoever he tells her to do it with. It's so humiliating. Maybe it's just the drugs that seem to paralyze her will, but right now she has no regrets… right now she feels girlishly docile, anxious but excited thinking of the days to come. She will try to be obedient for him. Doubtless she will be punished anyway.

Slate finally withdraws the needles thrust into her punctured tits and pussy. He doesn't want to stick himself on them when he fucks her. Alison whimpers as he pulls them out slowly, the skin drawing out with them as if reluctant to let them go, and tosses them aside on the silver tray. Her swollen clit throbs dully where it has been skewered, achingly sensitive to the slightest touch. "Fiona, get down there…" Slate commands as he removes the choking penis gag which drips with Alison's saliva. The submissive blonde works her jaws for a moment, happy to be able to move them again. Slate stands over her, looking down into her eyes as Fiona crawls up between her spread-eagled legs, gently spreading her vulva and fastening her lips on the adorable girl's painfully abused and erect clitoris. She sucks it between her teeth, tickling and soothing it with the tip of her tongue. The shaved secretary's hips buck up and down involuntarily as she gasps and moans. She has never felt more thrillingly responsive. "Want me to fuck you now, Alison?" Slate asks as he starts pulling off his slacks. In fact, she's been thinking of nothing else since the moment he walked into the living room, she admits to herself. But how can she tell him that? She drops her eyes shyly, unable to speak, her throat constricted. Finally she finds her voice… " I… I'm yours, sir…. You can do anything you want to me…" she replies. "That's not what I asked you, you stupid cunt." So he wants her to beg.

Alison stares up at him worshipfully as he strips before her. His body is trim, muscular and hairy, smelling slightly of English Leather or something like that. His massively erect cock springs free as he pulls off his shorts, socks and shoes. Maybe not quite as long as Leroy's but it might be a shade thicker… at least twice the size of her pencil-dick boyfriend Tom. It will be a struggle to fit it all inside her, she knows, but it's the kind of struggle she looks forward to losing. Slate will make it fit. Of that she has no doubt. Fiona's tongue is still working on her, making her squirm and release a flood of juices, her asshole squishing around the long black plug still installed within her. The smell of her spasming cunt permeates the room… how can she deny it? "Please, sir…" she begs him, "Please fuck me…" There, she said it. "Go on, Alison, he commands her… "How should I fuck you?" "Fuck me hard, sir… as hard as you can. Don't stop no matter what I say. Make me come and come and come… I want to come with your big dick inside mee…" "And where should I fuck you, Alison?" "Anywhere you want. Sir.. In my pussy… up my ass… in my mouth… all three if you wish. I… I need it that way… to be fucked and fucked and fucked… Make me your slave girl, your whore… make me your slave girl and never let me go…."

Satisfied with this confession, Slate shoos the slurping Fiona away from the bound blonde's slippery little nookie, lowering himself on top of her as she looks up at him with an expression of total subservience and trust. "Don't worry, you hot little cunt… you're not going anywhere… at least not for a long while." He tells Fiona to release the girl's ankles from their spread-eagled position, pushing her knees up until her legs are once again spread widely and her wet little cunt is at a better angle for penetration. Fisting his king-sized knob, he brings it up between her smooth wet pussy lips, spreading her. Then with a single thrust, he buries the entire length of his hot hairy organ to the hilt in her tight hairless little honeypot. "UNHHHH… UNGHHHH…" Alison cries out as he drives into her relentlessly, feeling every inch of his thick veiny dick as it twitches inside her, stretching her, hurting her, banging with brutish force at the mouth of her womb. She can feel his thick cock rubbing against the long black rubber shaft that still violates her ass through the thin membrane that separates them. It certainly is a novel sensation… she never dreamed that having her butt plugged could make fucking feel so savagely intense. He can feel it too, making her cunt extra tight for him. He enjoys making her wear it, knowing he put it there, exerting his power over her…

For a moment he just savors the moment, the sensation of having his turgid manmeat buried to the hilt in her hot little box for the first time. Then he starts to fuck. At first he goes slow, making her feel every inch of it, teasing her. As she loosens up a bit, he starts pounding her harder and harder until he's going like a fucking jackhammer, his hard belly smacking up against her sweetly shaved mound on every thrust. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. UNH UNH UNH. The girl grunts with every thrust, involuntarily raising her knees up higher to grant him easier access, the drugs still flowing through her bloodstream helping to keep her docile and responsive. The grinding of his belly against her tortured and upthrust clit, the relentless pounding of his cockhead against the back wall of her cunt, the friction of his his throbbing hot shaft against the thick intruder stuffed up her behind conspire to push her over the edge. She's coming… coming in her pussy and up her ass… in her pussy and up her ass… clenching convulsively on the twin instruments that impale her, sobbing and blubbering in joy and submission. "Yeah, come for me, you little bitch… come for me!" her master demands, taunting her. Gradually, her spasms subside and he withdraws his still rock-hard unit from her depths, wet with her secretions. He has been careful not to come yet.

Slate looks over at Fiona, who has been taking all of this in, her legs still draped over the sides of the armchair, idly fingering her twat. "Should make a hellava tape, Boss… I knew our little Alison had star quality…" "Yeah but the best part is yet to come… lets get her turned over…" says the dominant exec. "I want her up on her hands and knees." Oh no here it comes, thinks the delicious young blonde, shivering, remembering Slate's promise. He's going to fuck me up my ass. She knows he'll do it hard, hurting her with his big dick as he said he would. Still, she's anxious to complete the act, wanting him to possess her totally, breaking her to his will, remembering the deeply submissive fulfillment she felt when Leroy shot his steaming load up her bowels there in the elevator. And she didn't even like him. Hell, she's halfway there already as her scared little sphincter twitches around the rubbery plug filling it. She allows Slate's hands to guide her as he and Fiona roll her over on her belly, unclipping her manacles from the posts at the top of the bed and fastening them together in front of her and connecting them to her collar with a short chain. Alison rests her weight on her elbows and knees and compliantly raises her backside up, getting her legs up underneath her. "A little higher, sweetcheeks…" Once he has her properly positioned, Slate fastens her hands once more to the ring in the center of the headboard as Fiona fixes her ankles to more rings mounted in the side rails of the bed, keeping her immobilized in this frog-like position. Slate gazes down in satisfaction at his little slave girl trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her face is down, her ass raised up invitingly…

"We don't want her pussy to feel neglected.." he says, "Give her a couple of those buzz balls to play with." Fiona goes to the chest in the corner and selects a couple of shining chrome vibrator balls about an inch around, connected to a hand control with a little wire. Reaching up underneath the enslaved secretary, she inserts them deep inside her tender slit, handing the control to Slate. Suddenly, Alison feels a buzzing inside her, tickling her clit from the inside and vibrating against the plug that has been stuck up her ass for an hour now. OOOH OOOOOOH AAAHHHH she moans deliciously. Slate unfastens the little straps that hold the butt plug in place, and slowly it slides out of her, repelled by the natural clenching action of her colon, and falls onto the bed with a plop. It is slimy with ass-goo and Fiona quickly takes it away, returning with an applicator full of lube. This she inserts into her trembling roommate's well-stretched rectum, pushing the plunger to inject the warm creamy lubricant into her slick anal passage. "She's ready for you, boss… come and get it," she tells the steely- eyed construction exec. Alison's heart is in her mouth, her pulse pounding in her temples, her eyes closed and her lips parted. It won't be long now…

Slate kneels on the bed behind her, moving up between her legs. He grabs the laces of the corset at the bottom, holding her steady, the tip of his erection grazing her buttocks as the chrome balls buzz merrily in her cunt, the controller dangling from her pink pussylips by its little wire. Faint traces of Leroy's belt can still be seen across the girl's ivory white asscheeks. Slate remarks that he likes to see her marked in this way, and that he intends to make sure that some sign of punishment is always visible upon her body. Accordingly, she will be whipped every day, regardless of how she behaves. Although he looks forward to hearing her screams, this treatment is really more for her enlightenment than for his pleasure. That she might know and understand, through her suffering, that she is wholly dedicated to a will other than her own. There's still nothing like a good whipping to instill the proper attitude in slave girls, and little sluts like her deserve to be punished. Of course, any hesitation to obey on her part will be dealt with on the spot, apart from her more formal or ritualized whippings every evening. He reminds her that the whole apartment is soundproofed, and that in any case her only neighbors are in his employ. If her screams or pleadings should become too annoying, she can easily be gagged. Alison kneels there abjectly, his words ringing in her ears as the broad head of his cock tickles the entrance to her tight pink little rectum and she waits passively for him to penetrate her. He is keeping her in suspense. So she is to be whipped… It only seems fitting. Much as she fears it, she realizes that she wants, even needs to be punished for her sick desires… for her shameful lack of control. She realizes that she is waiting more eagerly than he for the moment when his big dick is buried in her bowels. Bad girl…

His speechifying over, Slate returns to the business at hand. Still grasping the laces of the corset like reins in his left hand, he fists his purplish knob with the other and presses forward with his hips, grinding himself into her tight wrinkled anal ring, opening her wider… wider… Alison clenches and grits her teeth, her face all scrunched up in concentration and pain. Even though she's been well lubricated and stretched by the plug she's been wearing, it's still quite a struggle to fit his massive thickness in there. MMMMMMNNNNNNNN…UNGHHHH! The trussed-up cutie lets out a shrill scream as the wide head of his manly member finally pops inside her rear entrance, rattling the chains that hold her to the bed as she squirms ineffectually. Slate looks down at the blonde's dark pink anal membranes stretched around him as tightly as the strings of a tennis racket, smiling in satisfaction. So far so good… only nine more inches to go. He bores in there, driving hard into the softer and more elastic flesh of her bowels, pulling her back onto him by the reins, forcing his way deeper… deeper… an inch at a time, not stopping or giving her time to adjust until the full length of it is buried in her to the root and her trembling white asscheeks are pressed up hard against his belly. The sexy receptionist gasps, whimpers and sobs, fat tears squeezing out of the corners of her tightly closed eyes. It hurts… oh god it hurts… how could she have thought she wanted this? Her squishy inner ass muscles work around his shaft, doing their best to push out this burning intrusion, but succeed only in caressing his shaft sensuously, adoringly.

Gradually, the ring of muscle at the mouth of her rectum begins to relax and loosen, finally exhausted and giving up the fight. Alison shifts her hips this way and that, trying to ease the pressure and make room inside herself for his fat sodomizing tool, surrendering herself to the fact that he's not going anywhere except deeper up her hot behind. Once again she becomes aware of the slippery chrome balls buzzing away inside her slit, stimulating her super-sensitive little clit from inside and causing the big dick that spears her to vibrate in sympathy. OOOOOOOOHHH she moans as a wave of hot pussy-passion rolls over her, causing her to involuntarily tighten herself around his hot throbbing manmeat. Slate smirks to himself. "Yeah, take it you slutty little slave-bitch. Take it up the ass…" Alison's ears burn in shame as he cruelly taunts her. Now that he's got her where he wants her, he reaches up with his both hands to grab her on either side of her tightly-constricted waist, forcing her buttocks down harder on his rock-hard truncheon, stirring it around inside her like a mortar and pestle. The lovely blonde's mouth is hanging open, a thin stream of drool wetting the pillow underneath her head as she whinnies, whines and coos.

Holding her tightly by the hips, he slowly starts working himself in and out of her, going a little further, a little faster and harder with each stroke, making her grunt each time he slams it home to the deepest depths of her loosening anal cavity. Soon he is moving smoothly and easily, the little muscles inside her fluttering around his pistoning cock like excited butterflies. "Yeah you like big dicks up your ass, don't you, slut…" Alison burbles incoherently. Every time he speaks to her that way, her spasming butt hole reflexively tightens around him. "Answer me, bitch…" he commands. "Yesss… yesss…" He slaps her butt. Yes what? "Yes sir…" Yes sir what? "Yes sir, Master…" the bound blonde answers submissively. "Yes sir, Master… I love big dicks up my assss… I… ungh… love… ungh… your… ungh… big… ungh… dick… ungh… up… ungh… my… ungh… asssss…." "That's good," Slate replies, satisfied for the moment with her halting confession. "That's good because you're going to get your ass fucked a lot from now on… and not just by me." A little vein pulses in his temple and sweat beads his forhead as he slams his dominating dick harder and faster into the drugged and defenseless girl's adorable tush.

She pushes herself back against him, opening herself fully, wanting to be good for him. He can feel the benwa balls buzzing inside her too, tickling the underside of his pecker and making his balls tighten up, making him want to shoot his wad. SMACKASMACKASMACKASMACKASMACKASMACKA… The sounds of his hips bouncing forcefully off her butt cheeks mingle with the squishing and felching of his cock driving in and out of her and the grunts, moans and squeals of the sodomized blonde. The smells of hot cunt and anal mucosa fill the room. Suddenly he can hold out no longer… He pulls the girl tightly to him, holding her immobile as jet after jet of hot steaming sperm erupts form his throbbing member into the deepest recesses of her writhing bowels. When she feels the heat of his burning come splashing inside her sadistically stretched rectum Alison loses it, bucking and humping wildly as a series of intense orgasms convulses her, clamping her asshole down on him like a vise, wringing the last drops of jism from his pulsating prick. He leaves it there inside her as it slowly deflates, finally popping out of her with a gush of pinkish froth as they both pant to catch their breath. So he has made her bleed inside… Good.

"Fiona, get over here, you lazy bitch… Get this little cunt cleaned up," he orders. Although this is hardly her favorite part of her job, the brunette obeys immediately, knowing her boss can turn from relaxed gentleman to venomous snake in a heartbeat. The sensual-looking brunette kneels between Alison's legs on the bed, taking Slate's place on the bed as he sinks into the chair and lights a cigarette. Bending over to her task, she takes the tip of her pointy pink tongue to her luscious roommate's hindquarters, licking and slurping up the come that oozes from her still spasming asshole. When the submissive secretary's butt is squeaky clean and shining with her saliva, Fiona steps back off the bed to release the bound girl's legs, finally allowing her to stretch out. She turns the girl over so that she's lying on her back. After turning off the vibrating balls, Fiona gently pulls them out by the wire attached to the little control, and goes to work on the bound babe's smoothly shaved nookie. Alison squirms slightly, enjoying her tongue bath, still dazed from the drugs and the brutal fucking she has received. When she is done, Fiona looks up at Slate, who sits there impassively sipping his scotch. "Service with a smile, boss…" she says, grinning, her face coated with Alison's girlish secretions. She knows better than to argue with one of his commands. There are still three big ugly bruisers down the hall who would be happy to put her in her roommate's place in an instant, not that her boss would need the help. She kneels in front of Slate's chair to perform the same service for him.

When Slate signals to her that she is done with a dismissive wave of his hand, Fiona rises and unclips the chain fastening the bound girl to the headboard, leaving her hands cuffed to the ring in her collar. She unbuckles the belt around Alison's middle and loosens the laces of her corset a couple of inches. "There… that should be enough…" she says, tying them again. "Now you can rest for a while." She removes the blonde's high-heeled pumps, unfastening the dangling black earrings from her lobes but leaving the two little diamond studs above them in place. She pulls a coverlet up over the girl's black stockinged legs.

"I… I have to go to the bathroom…" sez Alison meekly. Fiona helps her to get up and leads her through the door to the bathroom that they both share, connecting their two rooms, and sits her down on the toilet seat. Slate eyes them through the open door. "Are you going to watch me?" she asks them hesitantly. "Better get used to it, honey…" says Fiona. Alison flushes with embarrassment, remembering the tapes she has already seen, the cameras she knows are hidden somewhere behind the mirrored walls. She feels suddenly inhibited, uptight. Slate rises and comes into the room, standing over her as she squats. "Go ahead and piss, you little bitch…" he commands her. "I… I can't…" the sweet blonde whimpers. Slate slaps her face. "I said piss!" He slaps her again. Red-faced and sniveling, Alison is unable to hold back the stream of water that flows from her body. She burns in humiliation as the man stands over her. With her cuffed hands fastened to her neck like this there's no way for her to wipe herself. Fiona has to do it for her. Finally they help her up and guide her back to the bed, once more fastening her to the headboard, but with a slightly longer length of chain to allow her to roll over in her sleep, etc. Alison curls up on her side in a fetal position as they cover her. Slate reaches down to briefly caress her crack. She gazes back up at him with abject servility. "You'd better get some rest… You've got a big day tomorrow." They leave the room, turning out the light. "Sweet dreams, slave girl."

Lying there in the dark, hearing the faint sounds of voices and laughter from the living room of the apartment, the former receptionist finds her mind drifting anxiously over the events of the last two days… two days of strange new experiences, a dizzying frightening mix of pain and pleasure, ecstasy and torture. She can scarcely believe that her life has changed so much in such a short period of time. She is conscious of the bareness of her shaved mound that makes her feel girlish, innocent and defenseless. She tests the cuffs holding her wrists and neck, making the chains rattle, feeling the corset still constricting her… there's no escaping them. Does he really intend to keep her like this forever? Why does the very idea of being bound seem to make her wet between the legs, readying herself for penetration? The treatment she has received, which by rights should have left her angry and desperate to escape, seems instead to have filled her with a terrible, fearful excitement and a weak-kneed, languorous passivity. In spite of the soreness of her body, she knows that she would happily give herself to Slate again in an instant, should he walk back into the room. She sees herself again groveling and begging him with disgusting servility to fuck her harder up the ass… Why is it that the more he hurts and humiliates her, the more she loves him, the more shamefully anxious she is to obey him? Where is her pride… her dignity… her resolve? He must be right about her… she's just a worthless little slut who deserves to be punished. Punished… whipped every day like a slave.

Alison sees herself again as she was in her dream, tied to the post by her wrists, ankles and belly as the shadowy figure behind her raises his arm… imagines the crack of the lash across her soft white backside… the very thought makes her squirm beneath the covers and her heart pound loudly in her chest. Tomorrow… tomorrow it will begin. She remembers the needles… the shining steel that pierced her so deeply in her most sensitive feminine places, the cold sharp feeling of the long thin lances probing inside her clit and up her pussy, seeking out her deepest nerve endings, the drugs flowing into her that reduced her to a mindless, obedient receptacle, wanting only to come and come. There will be more needles, of that she is sure… More plugs, too. Once again she envisions the monstrous black rubber phallus he showed her, with its wicked little straps dangling. Size eighteen. Sees herself once again subserviently down on her hands and knees taking it for her master… taking it and loving it. Loving it in spite of the terror, the agony and shame… or perhaps even because of it. Alison bites her lips in anguish, hating herself for her weakness and need, hating her womanly body for betraying her again and again, almost looking forward to the harsh discipline she knows is coming as an expiation for her guilt. She feels as though she's been strapped into a wild emotional roller-coaster ride that has no end. Finally, exhausted beyond measure by the events of the day, she ceases tormenting herself and slips off into unconsciousness.