"Come on, Steph, we've got to get going," her roommate, Amy, called to her through the door to her room.

"Just a minute," she called back, taking one last look at herself in the the full-length mirror as she buttoned up her white silk gloves.  At 5'3" and 110 lbs, she was a slight girl, with a slim Asian figure.  She felt her face warm as she looked at the costume she had chosen.  Her neck was encircled by very simple, plain white silk chocker, offsetting her black hair and dark eyes beautifully.  A spaghetti strap halter top, leaving her back criss-crossed with straps, pulling tight against her b-sized breasts, her nipples hard through the soft fabric as she had eschewed a bra, the white silk making her shoulders and arms stand out.  A flash of her flat, toned stomach peeked between her top and the full-length double-slit white silk skirt she was wearing, exposing the sides of her lean, sexy legs, her calves shaped beautifully by a pair of 4 inch white heels.  She turned to the side and looked down at the outside of her right thigh, where she had had her friend paint an elaborate, stylized 'K', clearly visible through the slit on the skirt.

"What are you supposed to be, again?" Amy asked as Stephanie joined her in the living room of their apartment.

"Oh, just a gyrl," she smiled.

"Never mind.  The haunted house at Bowles hall started a while ago.  We're meeting up with Jeff when we get there," Amy said, distracted as she headed out the door.

They left, walking down from their North-Side apartment and cutting through the campus, the streets and the campus filled with other college students out for Halloween night.  Stephanie kept her eyes forward, happy that her skin tone could hide her blush, wondering if any of the people walking by recognized what she was dressed as, the excitement of exposing herself like this, even if it was on Halloween, keeping her warm in the cool night air.  Of course, most people would probably be looking at Amy, in her fembot outfit, her tight Asian body seemingly poured into silver hotpants and the silver bra/halter.

"Jeff," Amy called out when the had arrived and spotted him milling about among the crowd waiting to get into the haunted house.  Steph stood back a bit as Amy ran up to him and they embraced, Amy's head turning up as he bent down to kiss her, their lips locking, his hands roving over her body as Steph watched, feeling jealous and exposed and excited all at the same time.

"Hey Steph," Jeff greeted her as he came up for air, his arm possessively around Amy, his pirate costume suiting him.

"Hey Jeff."

"I like your costume," he made a motion with his hand to say she should turn to show the whole outfit to him.  She obliged without hesitation.  She liked Jeff, even though Amy thought he was too controlling, and blushed again when she saw the way he was looking at her, his eyes seeming to bore into hers as she finished her twirl.

"Very, very sexy, Steph."

"Hey," Amy said, punching him in the side.

He turned his attention to his girlfriend.  "Nobody holds a candle to my little fembot," he said, leaning down to kiss her again, his hand in her hair.

They waited until a few more of their friends showed up, Steph glowing in the general excitement of the night.  As she chatted and laughed with her friends, she couldn't stop thinking about how exposed she was, how much of herself she was showing to the world with her costume, laughing off her friends' attempts to get her to tell them what she was dressed up as, simply responding, "Just a gyrl," and changing the subject.

After she had made her way through the haunted house, she rejoined Amy and Jeff.  She needed to find a restroom.  Jeff pointed her to a side door, telling her that there were only a few rooms down there, and there wouldn't be too many people using that dorm bathroom.  She thanked him and followed his directions.

She was surprised at how quiet it was once the door shut behind her and she found herself in hall.  She walked forward and took a right, finding walking past a single room--she guessed there were no more than 6 on this floor, and turning into the bathroom.  She was drying her hands, feeling the booming noise through the floor above of the haunted house through her body when Jeff came through the door.

"Hey Jeff," she started, startled when he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back to the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?  What's going on?" she practically shouted, starting to struggle as he pushed her into a shower stall, her feet twisting in her heels as she stumbled over the step-down, her hands pushing against his chest, her heart starting to race as adrenaline flooded her body.

She gasped as her head hit the tiles on the back of the shower as he pushed her forcefully against the wall, his head coming down, his lips trying to press against hers as she twisted her head away, fighting him, her terror and hysteria growing.

"No!  No!  Stop it."

"Kajira don't say no," he said, his fingers twining in her hair, holding her head in place, his body pressing hers against the cold tile, his heat seeming to burn her.

The word struck her like a blow, and she gasped again as he tightened his fingers in her hair, her soft red lips parting as humiliation seemed to suffuse her body, making her face burn, her stomach clench, and a dark, horrible excitement flood her.  He KNEW.  Oh God he KNEW, she thought wildly as his lips met hers hard, bruising them, his tongue sending chills through her as he forced it into her mouth.  His hand was hot on her thigh, the thigh with the 'K' symbol on it, she realized, almost moaning into his mouth at the realization, and she trembled as his hand moved between her legs, his fingers sliding past the thin fabric of her thong to slip easily into her damp, virgin pussy.

She choked a grunt of surprise as his thumb found her clit, shocking her with the sensations flooding her body as he continued to assault her body.

"That's a good little slave girl," he said, breaking the kiss, slipping his fingers from inside her, his lips finding her neck, his breath hot and thrilling against her flesh, "nice and wet for me."

Shame filled her at his words--she was wet.  She had been ever since she had put on her costume, wet with the excitement of exposing herself, of showing the world her darkest desires.  She was shaking now, trembling as she felt him working on his pants, sliding them down his legs, his lips sending flashes of burning excitement down her neck and through her body.  She wanted to yell 'Stop!', to push him away, to push by him and escape among the crowd above, but it was happening too fast, everything was happening too fast.  She couldn't control her body, couldn't make it move.  He was in total control, and the thought sent a shudder through her and seemed to make her cunt throb with pleasure.

She was practically hyperventilating now, her gaze over his shoulder, realizing for the first time that he had slid the shower curtain closed as he lifted up her leg, holding it under the knee, opening her up.  The front panel of her dress was pushed aside, and then she felt it even as he covered her mouth again with his, his cock pressing up against her cunt, his tongue violating her mouth again, her trembling seeming to increase.

He surged into her with a single stroke, and she stifled a scream, surprise and shock shaking her as she was penetrated for the first time, the pain a distant second to the heat that seemed to be burning through her body.  She was stunned, pinned to the wall of a shower stall, her leg lifted in the air, as he fucked into her with hurried, brutal strokes.  She was being raped.  Raped.  The thought seemed to send an explosion through her body, and she came, hard, so hard it almost hurt, her head twisting away from his, a long, defeated moan torn from her body as she felt her cunt spasm around the hard, hot meat that was violating, raping her, her whole body shaking, her hands finding his shoulders, gripping them in her pleasure.

She felt him stop, shudder, and moan, and she knew he was cumming, cumming into her; her rapist was cumming into her, and she came again, tears running down her cheeks as pleasure rocked her slender body.

Then he was out of her, and she was left leaning against the wall, limp, spent, her eyes half-closed.  He looked at her and said, "Red silk for you, now."  Then he was gone, leaving her there, leaving her as if she were nothing more than a slave, a kajira.  Excitement flooded through her, followed by shame, humiliation, and fear, fear of discovery, fear that Amy would find out, that her parents would, that she would be shamed.  It was all mixed up, and she was frightened by the intensity of it.

She staggered out of the shower and went into a stall, her cunt sore and damp, his cum starting to slide from within her, making a mess of her crotch and thighs.  She closed her eyes as she cleaned herself, her thinking that she had been raped, raped by Jeff.  Jeff had seen her, seen her dressed as a kajira and had KNOWN.  He had known and he had taken her, raped her.  Her fingers were on her clit as she ran those thoughts through her head over and over, crying even as she brought herself to orgasm one more time.

It seemed to calm her, and she stood, straightened her clothes, and stepped out of the stall to wash her face.  When she thought she looked presentable, she went out to find Amy--she didn't want her friend to think anything had happened.  It would be too humiliating.  When she finally spotted Amy, she waved and hurried toward her, hesitating only when she saw that Jeff was there too, looking as if nothing had happened, talking to Amy as if he hadn't just raped her friend.

Stephanie gripped her arms, shook herself, smiled, and called out to Amy.

"There you are," Amy said as she turned toward her.  "We're just talking about going to the party up at one of the co-ops.  You up for it?"

"Sure," she responded, keeping here eyes from Jeff, who seemed too close.

The rest of the night seemed like a blur.  It was like she was two different people.  One was the person that danced and laughed and talked and was Stephanie, the person she and all her friends knew.  The other was the person who couldn't hold a thought for more than a second, whose mind kept going back to that moment when she had felt Jeff's cock slide between her legs and push up into her body.  What was worse was that he was still there, laughing and talking and acting as if he hadn't violated her, but what was worst of all was the way she felt.  She felt that she had betrayed her friend, that she had done something wrong by being raped by her boyfriend.  She felt that she was truly deserving of being raped--she had dressed as a kajira, and he had used her like one, the thought even now making her blood burn, her pussy tingle.  It was all her fault, and she couldn't let anyone know, the shame and humiliation of exposure too much for her.

The next morning the memory of her rape came back to her, and she felt nauseous.  She staggered out of bed, thinking thankfully that she was on the pill, and had been since her freshman year (not because she expected to have sex, no, but because she was in college, and she could, and it helped with her skin and her cramps, and it made her feel mature).  She leaned against the shower wall, hot water coursing over her slender body, her mind consumed by the events of the previous night.  The fear, the shame, the overwhelming humiliation crashing in on her.  It was so awful, she thought, so awful, even as something deep inside her whispered 'kajira', and her pussy throbbed.

"No!" she said aloud, and then whispered, "No."  It wasn't her fault.  It wasn't, she kept thinking, but she knew it was.  "Oh god," she moaned aloud, the shame making her close her eyes--it was her fault.  By wearing that costume she had advertised her need; Jeff had seen her and had known.  He had used her like she had dreamed, fantasized, about being used, used like a kajira, used like nothing more than a beast.  He was in the right.  He had done nothing wrong.  It was her.  All her.  Her pussy throbbed again, and she sobbed and stood up straight, running her hair under the water, casting all thoughts of the previous night from her mind.  She wouldn't think of it again.  It didn't happen.  Jeff was Amy's boyfriend, and Amy was her best friend.  Nothing had happened, and nothing would ever happen again.  She had been stupid.  She wouldn't be stupid again.

The day passed without incidence.  She went to classes and spent time with Amy and even saw Jeff and thought she did alright, acting as if nothing had happened between them.  By the time she went to bed, she felt better, even the flashes that ran through her mind at inopportune times throughout the day, flashes of how she must have looked, pushed against the back of the shower wall in her white silk, her leg pulled up, her pussy pulled open, a man rutting against her, she managed to ignore.  Things could go back to normal.

Friday morning she woke up a bit late, pushing from her mind the half remembered dream of being dragged through a field at night, her clothes torn, firelight dancing on the handsome, savage faces of men at the camp to which she was being dragged, dragged to be used like an animal, mounted over and over by every man there.  She had two afternoon classes today, leaving the morning free.  She needed to study, and with Amy out of the apartment for the morning in her own classes, the rest of the morning was a perfect time.

She slipped into a simple dress that fell to mid-thigh and gathered up her books.  An hour later, deep in study, she didn't hear the deadbolt turn in the door, and looked up, surprised, when she sensed someone standing the doorway to her room, her heart skipping a beat.

"Jeff," she put her hand to her heart.  "You startled me.  Amy isn't here."  She kept her dark eyes on him, a flutter in her stomach and a growing warmth in her pussy shortening her breath.

"I know."  It was all he said, his eyes locked on hers, as he strode toward her.  She stood quickly, her chair skittering on the hardwood floor, the fluttering in her stomach turning into an ache.  She should scream.  She knew she should scream, shout, something, but she seemed to be paralyzed, and then he was right there, right in front of her, his hands on her, one tangling in her hair, pulling her head back hard, the other on the small of her back, pulling her to him.

His lips came down hard on hers, crushing her lips, possessing her, owning her.  Her body tensed even more, and she tried to move, to fight, to push him away, to turn her head, but for some reason she couldn't.  It was happening too fast, again.  It was happening again, and she sobbed into his mouth, her whole body shaking against his, shame flooding her at what she knew was about to happen.

He spun her like a doll, pushing her thighs against the desk, his hands forcing her down until she was bent at the waist, scattering papers around, her heart racing, her breathing short gasps.  A part of her dream flashed back to her, of herself bent over a log in the camp, a man's hands hot against her hips, and she started to tremble with shame and need.  As his hand pulled up her dress and pulled down her panties, exposing the soft flesh of her ass, she wanted to reach back and say "NO!", to resist the hand pushing against her lower back, to stand and push him away, but the back of her mind was whispering to her kajira, kajira, over and over, and she kept her hands by her head, staring blankly at the side of her computer, all her attention on Jeff, on the man who was going to rape her again.

She felt him push her feet further apart with his own, feeling her panties stretch just above her knees.  Humiliation flooded her and she moaned as she felt his cock slide across her cunt, realizing how wet she was, knowing that he saw her lust, her need.  Three strokes across her cunt and then he was pushing into her, raping her, and they both gasped as he broke through and plunged his cock deep into her pussy, his hips slapping obscenely against her ass.

She felt every millimeter of him inside her, taking her, raping her, his hands hot against her hips as he readied himself to truly fuck her.  She closed her eyes, tears leaking from them even as she flashed back to her dream, where she man after man had used her from behind as she thrust back at them like a she-sleen, welcoming them, wanting them, the feeling of ecstasy, both physical and emotional, overwhelming.  She sobbed as she felt him pull back, his cock seeming to send pleasure to every nerve in her pussy, and she sobbed in confusion, her mind a whirl of passion and shame and humiliation.

He was fucking her now, her body jerking back and forth across the desk, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room, filling her mind.  Her body trembled and shook as she was raped, overwhelmed.  Her best friend ran through her mind, and her shame deepened, and then she thought of her friend walking in on them, of finding her bent of her desk while her boyfriend was fucking her.  White flashed behind her eyelids as the scene seemed to burn itself there, her best friend, aghast, Jeff, hands on her hips, plowing into her submissively bent over the desk.  Amy's shock, Amy's anger, Amy's horror at the scene--it was too much.  Her body clenched, her hands closing into fists as she came, a sob of humiliation and unbearable pleasure choked out from between her lips.

She felt Jeff grunt and speed up his thrusts, her own body still quivering under the onslaught of her pleasure, her mind spinning, whirling, and then she felt him stop, his hips pressing hard against her ass, his cock pulsing inside her, and she came again, came knowing that her rapist, her best friend's boyfriend, had just cum inside her.

She felt him pull out, jerked as he slapped her ass, remained laying there, the air cooling the wetness on her inner thighs, her ass up, her head down, as he left without saying a word.  She lay there for a while longer, her mind a blank, until she felt his cum begin to leak from her cunt.  The sensation pushed her into motion, and she stood unsteadily on her feet and made her way to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and cleaned herself up.

She felt like she was drowning.  What was wrong with her?  She knew that she could have stopped him.  All she had needed to do was fight, shout, yell, anything.  Instead she had just let him use her like a thing, "like a kajira" a part of herself whispered, but she pushed it from her mind.  The thought of Amy catching them ran across her mind again, and a mixture of shame and lust shot through the pit of her stomach, making her bend over on the toilet and moan in disgrace.  It was all so wrong, so wrong.  It just couldn't be happening to her.  She was a good girl, a girl whom her parents could be proud.  She wasn't this 'thing' she was becoming.

"Leave it be," she thought, finishing cleaning herself.  She shouldn't think on it; it would drive her crazy.  Just get on with her life, avoid Jeff, don't tell anyone.  If he came to her again, alone, tell him in no uncertain terms to stop.  That was what she would do.  It was what she had to do.

She implemented her strategy, making sure she was never in her apartment whenever her roommate was gone, waking up early and leaving for the library, staying out until she was sure her Amy was back.  She pushed the attacks out of her mind, put her mind to studying, and refused to indulge in the common fantasizing that had made her choose the costume she had chosen for Halloween, even as unbidden images of her bound on her belly, of her on her hands and knees, mounted, of her pushed against a wall in a dirty alley being used, of her degraded and humiliated and treated like an animal would flit into her mind at the most inopportune times.

She shook them off, refused to give into the fantasies that seemed to grow stronger each day she tried to ignore them.  The images became harder to push from her mind, the throbbing in her pussy harder to ignore, making her want to touch herself, bring herself some relief from her forced denial.  Those thoughts weren't right, weren't who she was; those thoughts had caused Jeff to rape her, twice, and had made her want it, crave it.  She wasn't like that.  She wasn't, she kept telling herself, throwing herself with more abandon into her studies.

The worst thing was seeing Jeff and Amy together, feeling a unwanted pull toward him, her mind flashing to images of being used by him every time he saw her.  She tried to act normal, and thought she succeeded, both glad and scandalized that Jeff too was acting as if nothing had happened between them.  Almost as bad were the dreams.  After a few days, the dreams started up, strange, surreal montages of running with flashes of skin as her clothes slowly disappeared piece by piece, of capture, where she would trip or fall or just find herself surrounded by men, but not men, dream images of men, almost half-animal, howling and hooting and rushing at her before rushing back, laughing and calling out, of rape, as they pounced on her, pulled her limbs apart and using her brutally and long until she woke up sweating and gasping, her fingers at her cunt, her heart pounding, frustrated and turned on, wishing only to forget and go back to sleep.

It was a Friday night, Amy had left to spend the weekend with her family, and she was alone in her apartment for the first time in over two weeks.  Dread filled her as she watched television, not able to concentrate as she wondered if he would appear, if he would walk through the door and just take her.  Every minute that he didn't seemed to raise her fear, until she realized it was more than just fear, it was also a sick anticipation.  Every time she shifted on the coach, she felt the lips of her pussy slide against each other, swollen and wet, sending an unwelcome shock of pleasure through her body.  Her stomach started to ache with the stress of it, and she couldn't stop thinking about it, realizing with shame that as much as she dreaded him coming through the door, she wanted him to.

As the hours passed, the dread lessened and the need grew, until she was glancing at the door every few seconds, tensing her thighs to feel the waves of pleasure from her slippery cunt, even the thought of him finding her so wet, increasing her humiliation, seemed only to add to her desire.  She waited past midnight, refusing to touch herself, refusing to admit, truly admit, that she wanted him to come, telling herself she was glad he hadn't come, glad, because she wouldn't have been able to resist.  Tomorrow would be different.  She wouldn't be so needy.  She could beat this.

It was in the middle of one of her dreams, she had just been thrown to the ground, a man-beast mounting her, his strong body covering hers, his heat seeming to seep through her pores even as his cock was readying to plunge into her defenseless pussy, when she came awake with a shock, gasping in surprise as she saw a figure standing beside her bed.  She opened her mouth to scream, jerking her covers to her neck in a useless motion of defense, but strangled the cry when she saw it was Jeff, staring down at her.

"J...Jeff..." she started to say, her eyes wide, her heart pounding, her mind racing, trying to figure out what was happening even as she knew, even as she felt her cunt throb and heat fill her body, taking her breath away.

All of a sudden he was on top of her, his hand around her throat, his face next to hers, fear lancing through her body.

"Stephie Stephie Stephie.  Avoiding me isn't nice." 

He squeezed her neck slightly as she opened her mouth to speak, silencing her, her hands lightly around his wrist as he threw the covers off of her.

"Girls like you shouldn't avoid men like me."  She felt his hand as it slid down her front, over the long t-shirt sleeper she wore to bed, embarrassed that he would find her without panties.  "Girls like you need men like me."  She shuddered as she felt his fingers push up her tee, slipping between her slender thighs and sliding against her cunt.

"Your pussy knows it," he said, wiping his wet fingers down her cheek, her body trembling in humiliation, "you need to learn it."

He let her go and kneeled beside her on the bed as she lay frozen, paralyzed as if she were a bird facing a snake, watching as he slipped off his belt and doubled it up.

"Roll over, slut."

The words shocked her, and almost without thinking she obeyed, her stomach fluttering, her mind a mixture of fear, shame, and unbearable excitement.  Then the belt came down, striking the firm globes of her ass, and she grunted, her body tensing, her hands gripping the sheets beside her head as pain flared through her, pain and an incredible heat between her legs.

"Ten strokes, Steph, ten strokes for each time I looked for you and couldn't find you."

After ten, she was crying and writhing on the bed, her slender body twisting, her legs kicking slowly, her stomach tense, her chest heaving, her ass burning and hurting like it had never hurt before, but they were as nothing compared to the tumult in her mind.  She should be fighting, resisting, enraged at this humiliation, but instead each blow on her ass was like a release, like a cleansing wave of pain that seemed to wash away all her confusion, all her inhibitions, all her resistance.  Jeff was beating her like an animal, like a kajira, because she had displeased him.  Worse, she had known that she was displeasing him, and had done it anyway.

 

At twenty, the pain was overwhelming, and she simply lay there, her hands tangled in the sheet, deep, sobbing gasps rocking her body as he continued to beat her.  She deserved this, her mind seemed to scream, deserved to be punished for denying herself, for denying that she was a slut, a mere animal in heat.  As much as she wanted the pain to end, she didn't want it to ever end, for it wiped away all doubt, all fear, all confusion.  She was a slut, an animal, a slave, a 'kajira'.

 

Jeff, reaching forty blows, stopped and looked down at Stephanie, beautiful, slender, sexy Stephanie, so untouchable, so friendly and teasing and pretty yet remote until Halloween, when she had revealed her fantasies.  When he had seen her in white silk, with that look in her eyes, he had known, and acted, and now he was enjoying his boldness, Stephanie laying prone before him, her ass flaming red, her body shaking in sobs, submissive, docile, and, he was sure, burning with need.

 

"Ass in the air, slut," he commanded, moving around behind her as she, weeping still, raised her ass up in the air, her face still pressed into the sheets, presenting herself to him, her cunt an ugly red gash between her thighs, swollen and wet with lust.

 

She wept not just from the pain, but from the need.  "Oh god," she thought, "please, please.  I need it," she wanted to beg, her ass swaying slightly as she trembled before him, her eyes tightly shut, the feel of his hand at her hips, his other guiding his cock to her cunt making her heart race and her pussy throb.  "Fuck me fuck me fuck me use me use me use me take me take me take me" ran through her mind and then she felt his cock at her entrance, pausing, and then thrusting deep, hard, brutally, his hips slamming against her beaten ass, the shock and pain and screaming pleasure made her shove her face into the mattress as she screamed out her orgasm, each thrust of his cock into her cunt seeming to drive her pleasure higher, each slap of his hips against her bruised ass dragging out a deep masochistic streak in her until finally the waves of pleasure that threatened to engulf her ebbed.

 

Instead of leaving her spent, though, or satisfied, she was left trembling as he continued to fuck her hard, his hands leaving bruises on her hips as he slammed his cock into her; she could feel another orgasm building, giving in to the sensations, the need.  He had raped her; had used her; had beat her and was fucking her, and it was indescribable.  Her muscles tensed, and she started to rock back against him, following the lead of his hands as he rode her like an animal, causing him to exclaim,

 

"Damned fucking bitch!"

 

The words spiking through her, sending her crashing into another orgasm, her whole body shaking as she came, her toes curling, her feet pulling up to her ass as he didn't let up, seemingly determined to pound her cunt to jelly.  She went practically limp, finally spent, her cunt still burning and tingling under the assault.  Her third orgasm hit her unexpectedly as he came inside her, the thought of him spending himself in her cunt triggering a wave of pleasure that washed through her and seemed to calm her.

 

She slid over onto her side as she felt him pull out, watched him through slitted eyes as he crawled over the bed until he was leaning back against the headboard, his legs spread, his cock, semi-hard, glistening with her own juices.  He reached over and grabbed her hair, pulling her, guiding her until she was staring at his cock, inches from it.

 

"Clean it up, slut.  You're the one who got it dirty with your cunt, so clean it up good."

 

It was foul, disgusting, and student-Stephanie would have resisted, but kajira-Stephanie opened her mouth and took his cock into her mouth, the taste of her own pussy strong and bitter on him, letting her saliva wash away her own spend, sucking and licking and nuzzling his cock and balls while his hands, tangled in her hair, guided her head.  It felt so right, so good, a low level of lust filling her body, to be servicing him, to submit to him, to be a kajira for him.  She shut out her doubts, her fears, shut out thoughts of Amy and her friends finding out and reveled in the moment, the moment where she was completely submissive, completely devoted to serving and pleasuring the cock before her.

 

It was a long time, the ache in her jaws only heightening her sense of being used, increasing her excitement, her need, before he came, his cum coating her tongue, its bitter, acrid taste filling her mouth and nostrils as she swallowed it, knowing instinctively that that is what she had to do, still suckling his cock as it softened in her mouth.

 

He pulled her head up by her hair, looking at her downcast eyes.

 

"You're not going to avoid me anymore, are you Stephie?"

 

"No."

 

"Every time I show up and you're not here it's ten strokes of the belt.  Do you understand, Stephie?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Good."

 

With that he stood, buttoned his pants, his eyes still on Stephanie as she kneeled on the bed, her heels under her still-reddened ass, her arms resting on her thighs, her eyes downcast, her long hair draped down her body.  He left, leaving her to her own thoughts.

The following two weeks had been terrifying and thrilling at the same time.  It was like she was two people, the Stephanie that her friends knew, who hung out with her friends and studied and was a good girl, and then the slut, the submissive slave that waited alone in her apartment with her cunt juicing, disappointed if her Master didn't show up, because that was now how she thought of Jeff, thrilled at the sound of the deadbolt turning, her stomach flip-flopping, her mind dulling with lust, covering the shame she felt that she was cuckolding her best friend.

 

Eight times he had come, eight times he had walked through the door and sent her reality spinning into a fantasy of humiliation and degradation.  Three times, seeing she was wearing jeans, he had commanded her to get on her knees and had used her mouth, thrusting his cock between her lips as she struggled to pleasure him, telling her to masturbate her slutty cunt while he used her, her hand shoved down her pants, frantically working her clit as she gagged and choked each time he pushed his cock too far into her mouth.

 

The taste of his cum on her tongue, the humiliation of being used so nonchalantly, so casually, so uncaringly would set her off, waves of pleasure rocking her as her orgasm would take her, her humiliation at such a demonstration of her need increasing the intensity of her pleasure, increasing her craving for more.  Twice he had made her keep sucking him as he started to soften, keep playing with her overly sensitive clit, until he had hardened again and used her mouth a second time, this time taking longer, using her more patiently, more cunningly, forcing himself further down her throat, making her choke and retch, each casual brutality, each signal from him that she was nothing, a thing, sending her lust spiking until it overflowed and she came even while gagging around his cock.

 

Four times, when she had been wearing loose shorts, he hadn't said a word, just grabbed her by her hair and bent her over the back of the couch, her slender Asian body shaking in need as he yanked down her shorts and panties together, wadded them up, and pressed them into her mouth, gagging her.  Her cunt was always wet, her juices leaking down her thighs, as he had pushed himself into her and simply rode her like she was nothing but a hole for his cock.

 

Each time, the mere presence of him inside her, his cock filling her, his hands gripping her hips painfully, his hips slapping against her ass, would send her immediately over the edge, the pleasure both a release and a humiliation.  He had fucked her for long minutes, not speaking, not treating her like anything human, simply using her body, her cunt, for his pleasure, ignoring her muffled grunts, and when he had cum, spurting inside her, the further indignity would trigger something in her, and she would cum again, her cries muffled by the gag.

 

One time it had been especially warm out, so she had worn a summer dress that fell to mid-thigh and a pair of sandals.  That time he had pulled her from her chair by her hair, pulled her head back, and pressed his lips hard against hers, his tongue opening her mouth as his other hand lifted the dress and ran his hand across her ass.  Her knees had gone weak, and her body limp, as he had pressed her back against the wall, mauling her body with his hands, squeezing her small, perfect tits, sliding his fingers roughly across her tender clit, her body involuntarily responding, moaning into his mouth, her hips pushing against his fingers in her lust.

 

He had taken her there, roughly, almost savagely, guiding her until her legs were wrapped around his waist, her ankles locked behind his ass, her arms around his neck, her shoulders pressed back against the wall, her dress pulled down and pushed up to cover her middle, exposing her tits and her cunt for his use.  It had been wild, powerful, exciting and terrifying all at the same time.  She hadn't been able to control herself as she had bucked back against him, moaning and crying out with each brutal thrust of him deep inside of her.  She had cum twice while he hammered into her, her body shaking and trembling while she gasped in overwhelming pleasure, her soft lips parting as her eyes went distant.  She had cum a third, impossible time when he had filled her with his seed, too spent to stand as he pulled out of her, sliding down against the wall, disheveled and used.

 

Sitting alone in her apartment, three days since Jeff's last visit, she thought back to those times, feeling the dampness between her thighs, the lips of her pussy swollen and wet and tingling with expected pleasure.  She couldn't help it, didn't want to any more.  Each of Jeff's visits was as wonderful as it was horrifying, thinking of what she was turning into.  Sometimes she didn't believe that she was letting this happen, that she wanted this to happen, but she couldn't fool herself anymore.  As long as Amy didn't find out, as long as her parents didn't find out, it was okay; better than okay--thrilling, exciting, hot, sexy, wonderful.

 

She was surprised by a knock at the door.  Jeff had a key, and always let himself in.  She shook off her musings and opened the door.  It was, she racked her brains but couldn't come up with a name; he was one of Jeff's friends, though.

 

Confused, she waited for him to speak.

 

"Hello, Stephanie, isn't it?"

 

"Yes?" she responded queryingly, still standing in the door.

 

"You might not remember me.  I'm a friend of Jeff's.  I've seen you around a few times--you're a friend of his girlfriend, right?"

 

"Jeff's not here.  Neither is Amy."

 

"Actually...May I come in?"

 

She stepped aside at his request, confused as to why he was at her door, and let him in, closing the door behind herself.  She turned and looked at him as he made himself comfortable on a stool by the counter.  He was of average height, at 5'10", Chinese, and not bad looking.  She remembered that he was doing a pre-med major, but couldn't remember his name.  As she was trying to remember it, she heard him speak.

 

"You're even hotter than I remember," he said, and her attention snapped back to him, a blush rising on her cheeks.  She had worn a light summer dress, wanting to look good for Jeff, knowing that she was weak, but it had been three days, and she realized that she wanted him to come.

 

There was a long pause, and the tension in the room increased, a creeping dread stealing over her as she stared at him, Jeff's friend, whose name she didn't even know.

 

"Jeff's told me some interesting things about you, Stephanie."

 

Her heart seemed to freeze in her throat as his words hit her, the dread that had been sneaking into her mind hitting her like a punch in the stomach, knocking the breath from her, freezing her like a deer in the headlights, like a bird before a snake.  She could feel his eyes on her, watching her, trying to peer into her mind, to see what she was.  She trembled just a bit.

 

"Jesus," he whispered, loud enough for her to hear as she stood rooted to the spot before the door.  He stood, walked toward her.  "I didn't believe it, but it's true, isn't it?"

 

He was right in front of her, his eyes locked on hers, her body and mind frozen in terror.  Jeff had told!  He had told him!  Shame and humiliation flooded her, and tears started to well up in her eyes.  It was awful, so awful.  She felt so betrayed, so humiliated, to be standing before this stranger with all of her secrets, all of her dirty, nasty, shameful secrets, exposed.  She jerked away when he reached for her, his hand lifting to her cheek, rage and shame pushing her into motion, her hand almost blindly finding the doorknob.

 

"I think you should go," she choked out, trying to keep from sobbing.

 

 She felt his hand on her wrist, and then his words registered.

 

"Kajira don't get to decide that, do they?"

 

Then she did sob, her hands dropping to her sides, her head hanging down, her long, silky hair covering her face, her mind a swirl of emotions, knowing that this strange man knew who she was.  She knew what was going to happen.  He was going to rape her, and she was going to let him.  She could feel it even now, even as the tears rolled down her face, her chest heaving with sobs, she could feel the heat building in her body, the nearly insatiable craving that she couldn't deny. 

 

"Jeff!  Jeff!" she cried out in her mind.  Why had he done it?  Why had he betrayed her?  With him it was okay, it was safe and secret and as wrong as it was, as much as she hated that she was betraying her best friend, she couldn't resist it, her body seemed to crave him, his touch, his use.  She wasn't his slave, not really, no.  It was a game--he had no right.

 

"It's all right, my little slave," she heard his friend say near her ear, his body pressed tightly against her back, his hands against her thighs, rubbing her flesh, her body trembling with something besides the revulsion she knew she should be feeling, her mind seeming to slow down as his lips found her neck, sending a thrilling quiver of pleasure through her body, making her sob even harder, standing passive for her rapist, juicing for him, craving him.  Oh god, she wanted him, she wanted him so badly, and the need was horrible and humiliating but it was too strong, so she stood and sobbed and let him do what he wanted.

Steve let his lips linger against Stephanie's neck, enjoying the warmth of her body against his, the smooth flesh of her thighs under his hands, her trembling sending thrills through his body.á He hadn't believed Jeff when he had told him, hadn't believed that this sexy, sexy girl in front of him had harbored such a deep, submissive nature, butáJeff had insisted, and insisted, until he had decided he might as well see her; even if Jeff was putting him on, he would get to see her again, Jeff's girlfriend's sexy best friend.

á

It was better than he had ever imagined.á Jeff had been telling the truth, and, even better, Stephanie was trying to deny it.á He'd always wanted his own little slave, always wanted to find a girl whose nature drove her to submit, always wanted to be the one to encourage that submission, to help her overcome her upbringing, her fear, her shame until she was a willing slave, beholden only to his will.á He would have to ask Jeff if he could have her; it was only fair--Jeff had Amy.

á

When she felt him pushing down on her shoulders, she knew what he wanted, but resisted.á "No," she said, the word coming out cracked and weak, her mind quailing at the sound of her own voice.

"No?" he repeated, teasingly, incredulously.á He slid his hand across her belly, luxuriating in its firmness, enjoying the way it quivered as she tried to resist her true nature.á He slid his hand up her body, loving the way she flinched when his arms slid over her breasts, until his hand softly encircled her neck.

"Is slave Stephanie saying 'No' to me?á I didn't think slaves got to say no."

"I'm not a slave," she responded, her voice quivering this time, but stronger, lifting her hand up to grab his wrist, intending to pull it away from her and twist away from him.

Feeling her begin to move, he tightened his grip on her shoulder and around her neck, pulling her more tightly to him.á "Slaves who disobey, who say 'no', who fight, are punished.á Is that what you want Stephanie, to be punished?"

Stephanie choked back her fear, feeling his strength for the first time, his hand around her neck a threat, his hand on her shoulder holding her in place.

"No, please," she said, shaking in his grip, "Jeff had no right.á I'm not a slave.á I'm not."á It sounded weak even to her own ears.

"No right?á Oh, Stephanie, it's you who have no right, no right to refuse.á Isn't that right?á Slaves don't get a choice, but I'll be nice, Stephanie, I'll give you a choice.á Either you get down, now, or I can use the belt on you.á Would you like that?á Would you like me to beat that sweet little ass of your until it was red and swollen?"

His words filled her head, echoing the fantasies that she had lived off of for so long.á She had no choice, no right, no rights.á He was treating her as if she weren't even human, as if she were nothing except a thing to be used for his pleasure.

She moaned and fell to her knees, her tears drying up as she accepted her fate, her body burning from the humiliation and need that seemed to fill her mind.á His hand was on her hip, and he was pushing her forward; with a groan she leaned forward onto her hands an knees, feeling his groin pressing against her ass, hanging her head, hiding her face with her hair as she bit her lip, stifling a moan as lust blasted through her, her cunt seeming to burn.

á

She felt him straighten up, towering over her as she knelt on her hands and knees like an animal, his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head up, letting most of it fall back, keeping a few strands as he said, "Heel," and began to walk toward her bedroom.á She whimpered as he led her, her hair become a leash, as if she were an animal, the humiliation seeming to burn through her body, her stomach quivering, her cunt leaking juices to soak her panties as she crawled after him, crawled after the Master whose name she didn't even know, crawled after the Master who was going to use her like she was nothing, nothing but a kajira.á She whimpered again, in lust.

á

He led her into her bedroom to the foot of her bed and kneeled down behind her, leaving her quivering in dread and anticipation on her hands and knees, flinching as she felt his hands on the back of her thighs, slowly sliding up her flesh, seeming to burn her, raising her dress.á Slowly, as her dress slid over her thighs, over her ass, her breath quickened, her heart raced, hisátouch, his casualáownership of her body, sendingáa blazing need through her body, a need to be touched, to be used, to be raped.á The shame ofáthis realization almostáclosedáher throat, and she gasped as she felt his fingers dig intoáthe soft flesh of her ass through her panties, pain swirling amongst the trembling excitement she was feeling.

á

She felt her dress pushed far up her back, his hands sliding across her hips to span her waist, and then sliding down, taking her panties with them, sliding them down her thighs, lifting her knees as he tugged them off of her legs, leaving her completely exposed before him.á She whimpered as his hands found her ass again, his fingers digging into her flesh, pulling at it, mauling it, pain flaring through her body, and then his hands were between her thighs, pushing them apart, his fingers finding her cunt, sliding across the tender, sensitive flesh, making her gasp and roll her hips in need, not caring that she was acting like a beast in heat, a "she-sleen", she though, lust flaring higher through her body.á

á

Then his fingers were inside her, twisting and thrusting in her grasping cunt, her juices flooding from her, running down her thighs as she thrust back at him, a deep moan escaping her lips, pleasure flooding her, her body on the edge of orgasm, the shame and humiliation of her own behaviour feeding her desire, fanning her lust, making her crave nothing more than the carnal pleasure of being used.á She gasped as he pulled them out, disappointment making her moan, feeling him wipe his fingers against her ass, her own spend wet and cold against her flesh.

á

"That's good, Stephanie.á A slave should always be wet and ready to take her Master.á Now give me your wrists."

á

His words made her flush, her face burning even as she placed her cheek to the floor, her dress sliding even further up her back, resting just beneath her breasts, and reached her arms behind her, offering herself to him completely.á When she felt him using her panties to bind her wrists behind her back, she sucked in her lower lip, a rush of pure lust making her quiver.á His hands gripped her hips, and she started shaking as she felt his cock press against her eager cunt, moaning as he pushed into her, taking her on her knees, her hands bound behind her, her face pressed into the floor.á She shook harder, an orgasm overwhelming her senses, her whole body flush in ecstasy.á

á

"Oh, you've got the sweetest little cunt, Stephanie.á So nice and so tight," she heard him gasp out as her orgasm continued to roll over her, feeling him sliding his cock in and out of her body, his hands pulling her hips back into his, each of his thrusts sending the obscene sound of flesh on flesh throughout her room.

á

By the time her orgasm rolled to an end, he had built up a steady rhythm, pounding her quivering cunt with long, smooth strokes, keeping a pleasurable buzz filling her body, keeping her mind clouded with lust.á She rolled her hips, pulled against the constraints on her wrists, his steady fucking, her submissiveness, the fact that she still didn't even know his name, all blended together in a heady mixture, her thighs beginning to tremble again as her pleasure built toward another orgasm.á His hands gripped her hips harder, and his thrusts came faster, more urgent, and she tipped over into her second orgasm, her body trembling with pleasure, as he pressed himself hard and deep inside her, holding her in place as he came inside her, filling her with his cum.

á

Shame welled up in her as the pleasure receded, her cunt feeling stuffed and swollen, still tingling, and then empty and cold as he pulled out.á She wanted him to be done now, to untie her and leave her in her humiliation.

It wasn't to be, though.á She felt his hands tangle in her hair again, lifting her back to her knees as she groaned, shame and despair and lust twisting together in her mind to bring tears to her eyes.á She felt her dress fall back over her thighs, hiding her shame, her knees still parted, the dress dipping between her thighs sexily, her whole body still tingling from the orgasms he had tortured from her.á She felt his cum start to ooze from her cunt even as he stood before her kneeling form.

"You really slimed my cock with your fuck-juice, Stephanie," he said, waving his still hard cock in front of her, its movements almost hypnotizing as she seemed to drift in and out of her fantasy world, one moment a Cal student, a good daughter, filled with shame and humiliation at what was happening to her, another a kajira, lust filling her at the sight of her Master's manhood, her stomach churning in need.

"Clean it."á He pushed it against her lips.á She turned her head, humiliation at the pleasure she had felt at her rape ("he had raped her," she though, holding onto that idea as if would save her) giving her the strength to deny him.

She felt his hand tighten in her hair, pain lancing through her scalp as he turned her head back toward his cock.á "Clean it, slave," he commanded again.

She whimpered and shook her head, clenching her lips closed, even as the smell of him, the feel of his cum cooling on her thighs, the ache in her head where his hand pulled at her hair sent need straight through to her quivering belly, her pussy throbbing with lust.

Both of his hands tightened around her head, holding her in place as he rubbed his cock over her soft lips, making her taste and smell the strong, acrid flavor of her own spend, taking his time, knowing that, no matter how much she resisted, she would submit--it was in her nature.

A picture of herself locked itself in her mind, of her kneeling before a man whose name she didn't even know, her thighs pressed hard against her calves, her arms bound loosely behind her back, her long black hair pulled back from her face by his hands, his fingers like vices, holding her head in place, her simple dress covering her nudity, making the scene somehow more erotic, his cock sliding back and forth across her lips as she clenched her eyes and lips shut.á Her stomach clenched and her cunt fluttered as she tried to shut the image from her mind, but she couldn't.

It seemed to consume her, the vision, and the taste and feel of his cock against her lips, insistent, demanding, and she sobbed and whimpered as she began trembling, her resistance seeming to snap as her pussy pulsed with need.á She parted her soft lips, the taste of her own juices strong and acrid, sharp on her tongue as she pulled him into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked her slime off of his cock.

It was as if she were imagining her abuse, imagining she were someone else, the kajira of her fantasies, and the taste of her own juices filling her mouth, the feel of his cock on her lips and tongue, the sensations flooding her body at being bound and used, seemed unreal.á Then he would thrust forward and she would gag, and reality would hit her, that it was her, she was the sexy, kneeling slave-girl in her mind, and her cunt would throb and she would moan through his re-hardening cock, lust and shame shaking her to her foundations.

á

He let her harden him, luxuriating in the sweet warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips,áthe soft pressure of her tongue, in her beauty and submissiveness.á "To have such a girl," he thought, smiling to himself as he considered her, such a needy, submissive girl, such a beautiful, sexy woman filled with a need to please.ááThe things he was going to do to her, dirty, perverted, horrible things.á Before he was done, he would own her, body and soul.á She would live only to please him and whomever he wished her to please, and she would do it willingly.á The smile spread across his face.

á

Her breathing was ragged by the time he pulledáhis cockáfrom her mouth, a string of her saliva stretching perversely between her lips and the tip of his cock, breaking, splattering against her dress.á She felt him lean over her and her wrists where suddenly free.

á

"Stand.á Arms over your head," he commanded, and, submerged in her fantasy, her mind flashing on a picture from one of her books, of a woman stretched out, hands bound above her head, pulled to her toes by a rope, naked, her Master standing before her with a tawse in hand.á She moaned as she moved to obey, her eyes slitted, her cunt throbbing, her body trembling as she stretched her arms above her head, crossing then at the wrists, feeling every inch of her body as she stretched upward.

á

Her breathing quickened as she felt his hands at her thighs, and she looked down, seeing him and feeling him sliding her dress upward, over her thighs, exposing her trembling flesh, exposing her cunt, her flat, firm stomach, her breasts pulled up and flattened against her chest, and then it was over her head and on the floor and she was standing naked before him and she felt like a she was going to pass out, the need was so strong in her.

á

She felt his hand as it took hers and guided them down behind her head, until she was standing before him, nude, her hands behind her head, her legs parted slightly, her chest heaving in lust, a true kajira, she thought, a true slave to a new Master.á It didn't matter anymore that she didn't know his name; she knew all she needed to know--she was a kajira and he was a Master, and she was there to please him, her shame at her capitulation to him overwhelmed by the lust burning through her body and mind.á

á

"You're quite beautiful, Stephanie," he said, his hands making her skin burn as he ran them across her body, across her breasts, teasing the hard nipples, making her heart race with need.á His hands slid across her stomach, her thighs, her ass, his body pressing against hers as he ran his hands up her back, making her shudder.

She felt possessed, his body seeming to engulf hers, his hands pressing her body against his, her breasts flattened against his chest, her thighs pressed against his, his face inches from the top of her head, looking down at her as she maintained her pose, her fingers locked behind her head, her legs spread just a little, the sensation of being owned, of being wholly his, felt like electricity crackling along her nerves, making her pant through parted, swollen lips.á She felt him guiding her, ever so slowly, over to the bed, her feet shuffling along with his as he kept up the contact, feeling his cock pressed up against her naked flesh.

She felt him lean her over the bed, letting him guide her until she was laying there, nude, her legs spread, her hands over her head, hands pressed against the headboard, her eyes lidded and locked on him as he undressed, taking his time, his eyes never leaving her body.á It was the first time she had seen him naked, she realized with a shock, noticing how trim, how muscular, how strong he seemed, her lust making her writhe slowly against the sheets.

"Just wait there, Stephanie.á I'll be back in a moment to fuck you properly."

His words, the matter of fact way he spoke to her, struck her like a blow, her body shuddering as she held herself still, her back arching just a little as she suppressed a moan at the humiliation.á She was a slave girl, waiting for her Master to fuck her, filled with need and longing.á The thought, the image, the fantasy, the reality of it ran through her mind, bringing a barely suppressed moan to her lips, her eyes locked on him as he left into her bathroom, waiting for him, needing him, wanting him.á A brief thought that she should leave, that she should stop this, flashed across her mind, to be squelched as she moved her arms to her side, spreading her legs even more, remembering the correct position of a kajira about to be used, the thought making her want to feel him inside her again, to feel his naked body against hers for the first time, to have this nameless man take her as his own.

She followed him with her eyes as he returned, her eyes roaming his body, locking on his cock as it bobbed before him, glistening.á She wondered vaguely at what he had put on it, but all thought left her as he climbed onto the bed, settling on his knees between her legs.á She closed her eyes as she felt his hands, his arms, slide beneath her knees, lifting her legs, pressing them up and back until she groaned as the muscles in the back of her thighs strained and her ass lifted from the bed.á She felt totally exposed, totally open as he kept pushing until she felt his hands slide up her calves until they locked around her ankles, pressing then down beside her head, bending her completely in half.

She didn't know what he intended, but didn't care.á It wasn't her place, she thought vaguely as she felt his cock slide around her cunt, wanting, needing him to slide it deep into her body.á She gasped as she felt it settle against her anus, his cock exerting a slight pressure against her nether opening, her eyes opening in surprise to meet his gaze, intent, determined.

"Ask me, Stephanie.á Ask me to fuck your ass."

It was a command, she realized, shame flooding her, too far gone in her lust and her fantasy to fight.á Some part of her didn't want this, didn't want to have him sliding his cock into her virgin ass, didn't want to be folded in half on her own bed while some strange man used her like she was property; but some part of her trembled and shuddered and shook in need at the sensations flooding her body, at the pleasure suffusing every inch of her, at the knowledge that she was being treated as a thing for his pleasure.

"Ask me, Stephanie," he said, more insistent, his cock pressing harder against her, making her gasp at the tingling tremor racing through her groin.

"Fuck my ass, Master," she whispered, her eyes locked on his, giving herself over completely to her fantasy.á "Please."

She saw him smile, and gasped as she felt him press into her, felt his cock slide past the strong muscle of her anus, stretching it, a slight, stretching pain mingling with the overwhelming lust, the overwhelming need, becoming something more than she thought possible--pleasure that wasn't pleasure.á She wanted more, she wanted him completely inside her, to complete possess her with this most obscene of acts.á He had used all of her holes, she realized, and moaned again as she felt his hips press against her upturned ass, his cock seated deep in her bowels.á He had taken her completely.

Her cunt started to pulse as he started to slowly fuck her ass, keeping his eyes locked on hers, watching her every reaction as he took her in the most intimate way, every stroke of his cock sending shock-waves of pleasure through her cunt, overwhelming the discomfort and minor pain of her position, of her use.á For long minutes she lay beneath him, meat to be used, a hole to be fucked, her body his, her pleasure, her pain, his.á Everything she was, his.á She moaned with each thrust, her body shaking as he used her slowly, methodically, seeming to look into her soul through her eyes.á She wanted so much to cum, but couldn't, her arms still by her side, her cunt empty and throbbing, her clit throbbing and aching.á It was so good, she wanted it to last forever.

He kept it up for what seemed like an eternity, she thought, an eternity of pleasure and need and submission, his cock sliding in and out of her ass slowly, steadily, forcing his mastery of her deep in her consciousness.á His words broke the submissive trance that seemed to hold her.

"Play with your clit, Stephanie.á Make yourself cum with my cock in your ass."

She gasped, humiliation reddening her cheeks even further, quickly followed by a surge of lust.á To be so exposed, so submissive, so willing, she could barely grasp the depths of what he had asked of her even as her hands slid, almost of their own volition, to rest lightly against her throbbing cunt, her fingers brushing ever so lightly across her clit, her breathing quickening as pleasure raced through her body.

"Do it, Stephanie," he commanded, and she heard the strain in his voice as he continued to fuck her ass with the same relentless strokes, and she moaned, her back arching, her head tilting back as she pressed her fingers into the so-sensitive flesh of her clit, her whole body thrumming with the pleasure of her complete surrender.

It hit her almost immediately, a short cry punctuating the pleasure that engulfed her, making her body tense, her cunt spasm, her heart race, her asshole clench around his plunging cock; it seemed to go on forever,á intensifying as she felt his body tense, guttural gasps coming from him as he pushed his cock deep into her bowels and spewed his cum into her spasming body.

He held her folded in half, his cock still buried deep in her ass, for a long minute as she came down from her orgasm, her mind floating on a haze of contentment, her body slick with sweat and her groin damp with the lust of their coupling.á Then, with a sudden motion, he was gone, and she was alone on the bed as he walked away from her to the restroom, leaving her to curl up on her bed, her eyes closed, her mind consciously skipping past what she had just done, what had just happened, instead luxuriating in the relaxing afterglow of her pleasure.

"Tomorrow, Stephanie, I'll call you and we'll talk," she heard him say before he left, and, as she lay there avoiding thinking about what she was becoming, she fell asleep.

She woke up, confused, her thighs sore and bruised, her groin aching and covered with the dry spend of her and her Master's--the thought jarred her, feeling natural even as her stomach twisted in consternation--lust.  She moaned, and pulled herself out of her bed, changing the sheets and climbing into the shower.  She couldn't relax, her mind running over the previous evening again and again, seeing his face, reliving his words, his actions, and her own horrible, perverted responses.  She leaned against the wall of the shower, the water streaming over her lithe body, her breathing quickening as she remembered his words, that he would call her today.

Did she want to see him again, she asked herself.  No, that wasn't the question.  Did she want him as her Master?  That was, she finally admitted to herself, the real question.  She couldn't deny how he had made her feel, couldn't deny how her own submission, whether to Jeff or to his friend, had sent her into a haze of lust, a haze where the only thing that mattered was to please them, to please the dominant man, to be a kajira.  She shuddered under the warm water, her body responding to her thoughts, her hand slipping down between her legs, feeling the soreness and the heat there.  She moaned again as she slid her fingers softly across her clit, pleasure flooding through her as she remembered how he had made her heel, made her crawl beside him to her own bed to be used.

Pictures of her own use by a virtual stranger flashed through her mind as she teased herself gently, ashamed even as she brought herself closer and closer to release, ashamed of her need, of her fantasies come to life.  Even close to an orgasm her stomach remained in turmoil, clenching in worry as she thought of her future, the thoughts interspersed with her fantasies as she masturbated.  What would happen if she didn't accept Jeff's friend--she didn't even know his name--as her Master?  Did she have a choice?  What would happen if Amy found out about her and Jeff?  How could she keep everything secret?  What could she do?  What was going to happen?

As she gasped out her orgasm shame overwhelmed her and she began to cry, shaking her head, her hair, heavy with water, slapping against her back and shoulders.  She wanted to stop, but knew that she couldn't, knew that her need was too great.  She would talk to him, talk to Jeff's friend, tell him that she would be his, the mere thought making her body flush with lust, but that it had to be secret, that no one could know.  For now, she would dry off, dress, do some early morning studying, go to class, and be a student, not a kajira.

It was when she was leaving Moffitt that her phone rang, and her stomach lurched as she saw a number that she didn't know.  She answered, hoping and fearing that it was him.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hello.  Stephanie?"

"Yes."

"This is Steve.  We met last night."

"..."

"Where are you right now, Stephanie?"

"Near Moffitt library."

"Meet me out front of Wellman.  You know where that is?"

"Yes."

"Good.  I'll see you there in a few minutes."

She held the phone to her ear after he had hung up, her heart racing, her body flushing at the thought of seeing him again.  She thought of her clothes, flip-flops, sweat-pants, and a sweat-shirt, a bag over her shoulder, and wondered what he would think of her.  Then she shut all thought from her mind and headed over to Wellman.

Her steps faltered for a second when she saw him, sitting on the grassy arc in front of Wellman, the sight of him jogging a memory, and she remembered:  Steve.  His name was Steve.  As his name flashed through her mind, she realized that her breathing was quick, and her stomach knotted.  Her fingers clutched convulsively around the strap of her backpack as she squared her shoulders and strode over to him, conscious of his eyes watching her, appraising her, making her heart speed up.

"Hello Stephanie.  Sit down," he said as she paused, standing over him, unsure of herself.

She slid gracefully to the grass, keeping her eyes on his legs, noticing for the first time he was wearing jeans, and that his shoes were New Balance.  She crossed her arms, holding them close to her chest; she couldn't look at him, couldn't keep her stomach from fluttering nervously.  She didn't know what to expect, and the uncertainty was sending little shivers of nervousness through her body.  She flinched slightly as she felt his hand rest against her knee as he leaned forward, his lips pressing against her forehead as he kissed her.

"Now now, don't be that way, Stephanie," he said, patting her knee, humiliation washing over her at his tone, as if he were speaking to a child, and she didn't know why she didn't just stand up, tell him off, and walk away, but his hand was still resting on her knee as he turned to pick up something.

She raised her eyes, watching him as he turned away, wondering at her response to him the previous night, the thought bringing a flush to her face.  Why had she reacted so strongly, why had she responded the way she had?  It was the way he had spoken to her, like he was speaking to her now, simply, matter-of-fact, giving her commands, praising her for obeying, giving life to her fantasies of submission.  With Jeff, she realized, it had been, for him, solely about the sex, about having her to use whenever and wherever he pleased.  Her submission was secondary.  With Steve is was her submission that he wanted, the sex a sign of that submission.

The thoughts flashed through her mind in the few seconds he took to pull two thin chains from his bag.  He turned toward him, and it felt like an electric current passed through her as she met his eyes.  He held her gaze, and she felt her lips parting slightly and a warmth begin to grow in the pit of her stomach.

"What are you, Stephanie?"

Her voice came out in a whisper, "Your kajira, Master."

She saw him smile, and then his lips were on hers, and the warmth in her stomach spread to her cunt and her body trembled in lust.  When he pulled away she was gasping.

"Very good, Stephanie," he said, smiling.  "We understand each other.  I have some gifts for you."  He handed her two chains, a platinum choker and a platinum anklet.  "Put them on."

As she slid the choker around her neck, she listened as he explained, trying to keep from shaking.

"I cannot collar you like you deserve, not yet," she shuddered at that, "because I don't want anybody to get the wrong idea about my girl," she flushed as he smiled at her again.  "Instead, you will wear the choker and the anklet as a mark of your slavery to me.  Only take them off to clean them, understand?"

When she nodded, he continued.  "Good.  As far as anybody else is concerned, you're my girlfriend."  He handed her a piece of paper.  "This is my address.  Come by my place at 8 tonight--it's not too far from your apartment.  Oh," he continued, his eyes raking her body, a slight frown on his face, "and wear something nice."

With that he stood and left, as if he knew that she would obey, as if there were no doubt in his mind that she was his.  She watched him walk away, one hand playing with the choker around her neck and the other with the anklet brushing against her ankle, her mind seeming to blank out everything except the fact that she was now, truly, really, a kajira.

The rest of the day felt strange to her.  The choker felt heavy on her neck, and the anklet should have been distracting, but she found herself surprisingly clear-headed.  Her focus in her remaining classes seemed unnaturally intense, and her notes, she knew, were very good.  In the time between classes, she tried to puzzle it out; she should be distracted, unfocused, worried about tonight, worried about what she had gotten into.  It was as if her confusion and angst over her behavior of the past month, of her rape by Jeff, of her response to that rape, of her submission first to him and then to Steve, seemed to melt away at the feel of the chains around her neck and ankle.  The feel, she realized, was comforting; she didn't know why, but she believed, truly believed, that Steve would keep her safe, would keep secret her needs, her desires.  They would be simply girlfriend and boyfriend.  Sure, they would have sex, perverted, twisted, wrong sex, but boyfriends had sex with their girlfriends--it wasn't strange in any way.  She still had to keep even that much from her family, but it would be worse if her true needs were found out.

It was with these thoughts running through her head that she stood in front of her closet at 7:20 picking out clothes.  Amy had stuck her head in and had gently teased her about going out on a date, and she had blushed and told her to stop and help her pick out something nice, so now she and Amy flipped through the clothes in her closet rejecting one outfit after another until Amy pulled out her 'little black dress' and held it up.

"This one," Amy said, smiling.  "This'll make him crazy."

Stephanie looked at the dress*, and couldn't help but agree, feeling a rush of warmth as she though of how he would react.  "Perfect," she said and took it from her friend and started to put it on.

"Here, let me find those sandals that look so good on you," Amy said as she got on her hands and knees and started rooting around under Stephanie's bed.  "Ah, here they are," she exclaimed, pulling up a pair of black ballet shoes** with an ankle wrap-around.

Stephanie looked over as she settled the dress around her, smiling as she saw the shoes, knowing they would go perfect with the dress.  As she sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to slide the shoes onto her feet, Amy commented on her new jewelry.

"I like the choker.  Did your new beau get it for you?"

Stephanie looked up, her hand sliding along the platinum chain on her neck, a flush rising to her face as her mind turned to what it represented, that she belonged to him, that she was a kajira.  "Yes.  Just today.  He gave me the anklet too."  She straightened her leg, turning her foot this way and that, displaying the anklet for her friend.

Amy shook her head.  "You sly girl.  I'm mad at you.  Here you were getting yourself a man and you didn't even tell me."  She frowned teasingly, her hands on her hips.

"It just happened so fast, and besides, I'm not even sure I'll want to go out with him again after tonight."

"Well, you're sure getting dressed up for it."

"He said he wanted to take me someplace nice."

Amy smiled, "I'm sure he's going to want to do all types of 'nice' things to you tonight, girl."

Stephanie's heart lurched.  "Stop it.  It's just a date.  I'm not hooking up with him or anything like that."

"Tease."

"Slut."

Amy left her room as Stephanie made her way to the bathroom to touch up her makeup.

Steve was renting the top flat of a home only two blocks from the apartment she shared with Amy, so she left her own apartment at 10 minutes to 8, butterflies making her stomach quiver as she walked up the hill.  Standing before his front door, she smoothed her dress down nervously, took a deep breath, and knocked, knowing that soon she would be at the mercy of her Master, her cunt slick with the thought.  She jerked slightly when he opened the door, his eyes seeming to consume her, a slight smile on his face as he took in her dress and her shoes.  He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a solid, long-sleeved crew-neck t-shirt pulled tightly against his chest.  It was a nice chest, she thought, even as he turned and she heard him say "Follow me."

She followed him up the stairs, her eyes admiring his backside, her breath quickening from more than the climb, knowing her only reason for being here was to serve him, her Master.  The mere thought made her knees go weak as lust flashed through her.  As she stepped into his flat, into his living room, she quickly took it all in; it was almost Japanese in its aesthetic.  A black suede couch stood before a large flat-screen television in a cabinet, DVD and XBox also in the cabinet; a coffee table stood between them, with a few lamps.  A bike hung from a hook in the ceiling near the far corner, next to two large, curtained windows.  The living room opened into the dining room, a simple wooden table with six chairs, which in turn led into a butler's pantry and a hallway.

All this slid across her senses as she took a few steps into his living room, her steps faltering, shock filtering through her as she saw Jeff standing from where he had been sitting on the couch, a leer on his face as he looked at her.  Her pretty Asian eyes widened, and she glanced quickly at Steve, betrayal filling her mind, stunning her, as he half turned toward her even as Jeff came closer, making her step back a step.

"What's wrong, Stephanie?" Steve asked, glancing at Jeff.

"What's he doing here?" She hated that her voice cracked as she challenged him.

"Jeff?"  She was shocked that he looked almost puzzled, as it should be perfectly natural that he should be there.  "He's my friend, and as he pretty much gave you to me, I decided that, as long as he asked, he could throw a fuck into you whenever he liked.  Tonight he felt like it."

His words were like a slap, the crudity of them making her cringe.  She wasn't some whore, she thought, some slut to be passed around, squelching the part of her which said that that was exactly what a kajira was.

"Fuck you," she said, "I'm leaving."  With that, she turned to go, rage flooding her.

Motion flashed across her peripheral vision, and suddenly she was jerked back, a shout pulled from her as she stumbled against the pull on her hair; she felt an arm around her neck, her shoulders pressed hard against Steve's? Jeff's? chest, something filling her mouth.  She screamed and found it muffled, her jaw stretched, and realized that she was gagged with a rubber ball-gag, Steve holding her head against his body as she started to fight.

She grunted as his arms slid down her body, gripping her in a bear hug, her arms trapped by his as he lifted her off of her feet even as she tried to fight him, her tongue pushing madly at the gag in the mouth, her nostrils flaring, rage and panic melding as she was manhandled.  Suddenly Jeff was there to her side, his hand against her twisting face, holding in the gag even as she tried to scream through it, his other hand awkwardly grabbing the straps, pulling them tight, letting him free his other hand to slide the bindings into place.

She was panting, kicking, raging, helpless, realizing for the first time how much stronger Steve was than she, fear racing through her because she knew they were going to rape her, rape her like Jeff did, hating herself for the wave of lust that flooded her at the thought.  She didn't want this, she thought, she didn't want to be kajira like this--she had just wanted to be kajira for Steve, for one man.  She screamed in frustration and kept struggling, the sound muffled and weak even to her own ears.

He held her there until she tired herself out, long minutes, until all he could hear was her panting breathing, and she hung limp in his arms.  He waited for a little to make sure she was done, and spoke forcefully, "Kajira don't say no to their Masters.  Kajira don't fight them; they don't require gags.  You wear my collar.  You are mine."

He spun her around, dropping her to her feet, his hands gripping her shoulders painfully, his eyes boring into hers as she stared at him defiantly, even as she quailed inside.

"Help me take off her dress," he said to Jeff, and she began fighting again, but she was no match for two men who outweighed her by at least 50 lbs each.  In no time she was nude between the only two men who had had her, tears running down her face as she had finally given up fighting, barely noticing as Steve bound her wrists in front of her with soft leather cuffs.

Shaking from the adrenaline, she watched through her tears as Steve tied a rope to the chain between her cuffs even as she whimpered and squirmed beneath Jeff's hands as they pinched and prodded her ass and thighs and breasts, reminding her of their intentions for her.  She staggered as they led her to the corner--at some point the bike had come down, and she shook her head, her eyes begging as she looked at Steve, even as he tossed the rope over the hook and pulled, forcing her arms over her head, forcing her onto her toes, her shoes still on, stretching her body sexily, her small breasts pulling tight against her chest, her waist narrowing, showing her hips and ass to advantage.

She found herself staring at the corner, a window just to one side, curtained, she thought gratefully, so that no one could see her shame, with a ball-gag in her mouth and her balance precarious on her toes.  Her breathing was heavy through her nose, and she felt her long hair brush against the small of her back.  She had to calm down, she thought, she had to regain control.  She shivered as Steve stepped in front of her, the warmth of his body seeming to flow across the mere foot that separated them.  She grunted and twisted her body when she saw him reach for her, unable to prevent him from placing his hands on her, his touch seeming to burn her.

"I didn't want to do this, Stephanie," he said clearly, holding her eyes as she trembled in her bondage.

As he stepped away from her, she turned her head, catching sight of Jeff, his belt folded in his hand, hanging near his side, and her body flashed with heat as she remembered how he had whipped her ass as punishment for avoiding him, realizing that this was going to be harder, more intense, her slender body stretched to its limits, her body pulled taunt, exposed for punishment from both men.  She sobbed into her gag as she heard Steve slid his belt from his waist, whimpering even as she twisted slightly in her bonds.  She didn't want this, she told herself, doubt creeping into her even as the first blow struck her lower back, jerking her forward more from the shock of the blow than the force of it.

She tried to focus past the blows as they started to land against her back, her ass, the backs of her thighs, sending sharp, slapping pain across her flesh, making her grunt and writhe from the hook overhead.  They came slowly, intermittently, as if each man was waiting for just the right moment, and watching the results of each blow, watching the trembling and shaking her her firm, sexy flesh.

Her thoughts slid past the pain, trying to make sense of everything.  Steve had said that they would be boyfriend-girlfriend, that only to each other would they be more:  kajira and Master.  Kajira, the word filled her mind, and she gasped through the gag as another blow landed against the top of her buttocks, sending searing pain through her body.  She wanted Steve, Steve with his sure confidence, his control, his knowledge of what she wanted, needed; she wanted to be his, to serve him, but not like this, not like a thing to be passed around to his friends.  His words, so crude, so degrading, "throw a fuck into you," ran through her head, and anger welled up behind them, turning to a scream as another blow crossed her shoulder blades.

She would never, never, she thought, and then the question he had asked her earlier came to her, "What are you, Stephanie?" seemed to echo through her mind, "What are you?" echoing in those cool tones of his.  What had he asked of her tonight?  To let Jeff, who knew her, who knew her perversions, who had already had her, take her one more time.  Why had she reacted as she had; why had she fought so hard?  Her mind seemed to spin--she didn't understand what she was feeling.  She should be enraged, fearful, and she was, but she should be more so, and then her answer to Steve's earlier question came back to her as another blow landed against the back of her thigh, making her suck her breath hard through her nose, nostrils flaring, her feet dancing a bit as she fought for her balance.

Kajira.  Suddenly she seemed to step outside of herself, everything fading away but the cuffs around her wrists, the hook in the ceiling, and the two Masters behind her.  She had answered 'kajira', a female slave, no, a female animal, property, a thing serving at her Master's will.  The picture in her mind clarified, a slender young woman, her body stretched for punishment, on the balls of her feet, bound, her ass and back criss-crossed with red marks from her beating, and lust flared through her even as both belts came down across her ass, sending shocking pain through her flesh.

She had refused her master, and she quailed inside.  Why?  Jeff was safe--Jeff knew.  She shouldn't have; it was her Master's right to offer her to Jeff (no one else, she thought to herself; someone besides Jeff was too terrible to contemplate).  She was being punished for her refusal, as was appropriate.  She deserved it, she realized, deserved it for failing to be a proper kajira.  Her heart, racing already from adrenaline, seemed to speed up, and her flesh felt like it was burning.  The next blow across her shoulder blades sent a flash of pain across her back, followed by a pulse of pleasure centered at her cunt, leaving her gasping in reaction.  Again and again as the belts landed the strange combination of pain followed by an electric jolt of pure bliss sent her mind spinning, her body trembling, a small trickle of juice sliding down her inner thighs as she struggled to keep her balance.

"I think that's enough," she vaguely heard someone say.  "Go ahead.  Don't forget to put on a condom."

"Sure, sure."  That was Jeff, she realized, her mind regaining focus as she realized they were done punishing her, her back burning and throbbing, her cunt buzzing, her need a voracious animal straining against her will.

Steve stepped in front of her, his body pressing against hers, making her shudder as he reached up and loosened the rope that held her, letting her fall from the balls of her feet, her calves and arms shaking in relief, surprised when he didn't continue, instead stepping back and taking her face between her hands, looking her straight in the eyes.  For a moment she wondered what he was looking for as he stared at her, his face giving nothing away, and then she realized he was looking for obeisance, for some sign of her submission.  She moaned softly, holding his eyes with hers, and rolled her hips, pressing them against him.  She gasped through the gag as one of his hands trailed down the side of her neck, down her body, to slide between her thighs, his touch burning with exquisite pleasure as he slide his hand, now covered with her own juices, across her stomach.

She was mesmerized as he reached up and removed the gag, noticing for the first time the ache in her jaws.

"Apologize, slave."

She swallowed, lowering her eyes, her arms still bound over her head.  She could feel Jeff behind her, but all she could concentrate on was Steve, her Master.

She whispered, hanging her head before him, humiliation and a burning lust filling her at her own words, "Your kajira apologizes to her Master.  She had no right to act as she did."  She took a ragged breath, feeling the pain from the beating she had endured, from the way her body was still stretched, her arms bound overhead, "Your kajira thanks her Master for punishing her as she deserves."

* http://z.about.com/d/fashion/1/0/g/v/2/sheathn.jpg

** http://tinyurl.com/2m865k

Steve felt satisfaction and relief fill him at Stephanie's words; she was fully his again.  She had surprised him with the strength of her reaction, although Jeff had warned him.  He had said that as ready and willing as she seemed, she was really a prude, and having him there would freak her out.  He had resisted, but was glad that he had taken Jeff's advice to have a ball-gag ready; his flat wasn't sound-proofed.  He was surprised at her surrender also, but Jeff had told him about that too, that all she really needed was a little something to trigger her deep-seated fantasies, and she'd come around.  Come around she did, he thought, his hand still damp from the juices on her thighs.  He'd have to reconsider, just a little, how he planned on handling his new slave, watching Jeff, behind his bound slave, grab her by the hips and position her for use.

Stephanie kept her head lowered as Steve leaned back against the wall, leaving a few feet between them.  She knew that Jeff was going to take her now, her heart hammering in her chest, her stomach clenching in both trepidation and need.  She felt his hands grip her hips, his feet settling between hers, pushing her legs apart, forcing her up onto her toes again as she wrapped her fingers around the rope binding her to the hook in the ceiling.  She felt his cock against her ass, his thumbs digging into her buttocks, bruising the muscles, making the battered flesh ache, as he pulled her ass-cheeks apart, his other fingers looped around her hip bones, pulling her ass back and up.

Her mouth fell open as she felt his cock, slippery and wrapped in something smooth and cool, slid between her thighs and slide against her gaping cunt, sending pleasure buzzing through her.  Then he pulled it back and she felt it press up against her ass, and she let out a soft moan as it slid easily into her ass-chute, realizing that he had soaked it in lube.  Her body started buzzing as he began rutting against her, fucking her ass with short, brutal strokes, his hands bruising her hips as he jerked her petite body back and forth, her flesh burning and aching as his hips slapped against her beaten flesh, his cock stretching her ass-chute, filling her, sending a dull pain through her body, all reminding her of her punishment, of her failure as a kajira, of her proper place, serving her Master however he wished.

Lust flooded through her with these thoughts and she wanted to beg her Master to touch her, to touch her clit, to let her orgasm.  She knew all it would take would be a touch, even with the discomfort Jeff was forcing on her for his own pleasure, just a touch and she would cum as she never had before.  She looked up at him, the sight of him obscured by her hair falling across her face.  He was leaning against the wall before her, his arms crossed, his eyes drinking her in, and she begged him with her eyes, knowing that she had no right to speak, begging him to touch her, to bring her the release she craved so, so badly.

He just stood there, though, watching his sweet, sexy little kajira getting violently ass-fucked by his friend as her small, lithe body shook in its bonds, her feet arched to keep her weight off of her arms, her head hanging down, her mouth open and gasping, her small breasts jiggling on her chest, her nipples, small, pink, delicious nipples, hard as rocks, small, whimpering sounds coming from her throat with each brutal thrust into her ass.  When she lifted her head to look at him, he saw the need in her eyes, and restrained a smile and stepped forward.

She gasped as her Master stepped forward, anticipation making her whole body tremble, electric pleasure suffusing her body from her toes to her head.  When his hand flattened over her pelvis, his fingers spread wide, hot against her flesh, she thrust her hips forward, trying to drag it from Jeff's grip, mewling in frustration as she wasn't able to do more than lightly press her throbbing clit against his palm.  Again and again she tried, moving with Jeff as he fucked her ass, trying to bring her hips hard against her Master's hand, lost completely to her need to cum, oblivious to everything except the sensations in her body, the lust the seemed to suffuse everything and turn it sensual and sexual and make her mind spin and whirl.

She didn't know how long she was there, trapped, bound, a cock pounding her ass, her body on the edge, her calves trembling with fatigue, her thighs shaking, her stomach clenching and unclenching, trying so hard to cum, knowing that her Master wasn't going to let her, was teasing her with his palm, letting her get close, oh so close, but not letting her press hard enough against him to set her off.  Then she felt Jeff stiffen, his thrusts stopping, holding himself deep inside her as he came, grunting out his own pleasure, frustration making her growl as her Master stepped back from her as his friend found release in her ass.

She felt him slip out from her, his absence sending a cool breeze across flesh wet with sweat and her own spend.  Her legs trembled as she slid them together so she could stand normally, panting, squeezing her thighs together to keep the pleasure flowing, her head down, a flush rising in her face as she realized how she must look, beaten, used, and still trying to get off.  She didn't stop though, the thought that her Master was looking at her, watching her, seeing how needy she was sent a flush of pleasure through her body.  She shuddered and pushed her body against his as he stood close to her and reached up to free her wrists from the cuffs binding her to the hook overhead.

------

"Nadu," she heard him command, his voice firm and strong, and she dropped instantly to her knees with a moan of need, her legs spread wide, her back straight, her head tilted slightly up, her hands face up on her thighs.  She watched, her tongue running across her lips, as he unzipped his jeans and slid his pants down his legs, stepping out of them, his boxers the only thing between her and her Master's cock.  She licked her lips again, panting with lust.

She watched as his cock seemed to spring out from his boxers as he slid them down to his thighs, and then his hands were in her hair, his grip painful, pulling a cry from her even as he stepped forward and pulled her face toward him, muffling her as his cock slid between her soft, wet lips.  She sucked air in through her nostrils, the smell of him sending sparks of lust and need through her body, the slightly salty, smooth taste and feel of his cock in her mouth combined with the grip on her hair signaling both his need and her submission, made her tremble in desire.

She started sucking, her tongue dancing over his cock, rubbing against the underside of his glans, and she could feel him respond even as he began slowly moving his hips and her head back and forth, sliding his cock back and forth in her mouth.  Her back aching, her ass sore, kneeling with her legs spread wide, her hands caressing his balls, she felt completely dominated, completely a kajira, and she felt her cunt pulse with pleasure as she continued to pleasure her Master.  She vaguely heard Jeff leave, but was too busy, her whole world seemed concentrated on her lips, her mouth, her tongue, the taste and feel of him inside her.

A haze of need seemed to surround her, and she thought briefly of the 'slave-heat', and she realized she was feeling it, feeling the wanton, unconstrained desire a kajira felt, a need so powerful it ruled her every thought and feeling in the presence of her Master.  She reveled in the feeling of subjugation, of servitude, of giving herself so completely that she had been whipped and ass-fucked against her will, the heat in her belly seeming to burn. 

When she felt him stiffen, his thrusting stilling, his hands tightening around her skull, she sucked harder, rolling her eyes up to see him looking down at her, looking down at his slave as his cock pulsed and filled her mouth with his cum.  She swallowed quickly, a feeling of satisfaction flooding over her at the pleasure she had given her Master.  She kept sucking, softer now, as he kept one hand on the back of her head as his cock softened just a bit in her mouth before he slid his cock from between her lips, a string of her saliva stretching between her lips and the tip of his cock, breaking to splatter against her chest.

She gazed up at him, the need strong in her eyes, and undulated from her Nadu position, begging with her body and her eyes for him to use her, to quench the heat in her belly, to bring her to climax.  She shuddered as he reached down and slid a finger along the choker around her neck that he had given her, and then had to turn her head as he quickly walked away from her to sit down on the couch behind her.

"Perform obeisance on your belly," he said, and her mind rolled over the command, still lost in its need, before she realized what he was commanding.  She moaned and turned on her knees until she was facing him, and then slid onto her belly, the hardwood floor cold against her skin.  Keeping her elbows out, her hands in front of her, she slowly writhed across the floor toward him, the act of pure subjugation making her pant as if she had been running. 

Steve watched as Stephanie slithered slowly across the floor toward him, her ass bunching beautifully, her thighs sliding across the hardwood, her hair hiding her face and spread across her shoulders, her body a symphony of sexuality and submission.  He could feel himself getting hard again just watching her debase herself, watching her live out her fantasy.  He tried to decide if he was going to allow her to orgasm tonight, tried to decide if it would bind her to him more if he gave her the pleasure she so clearly desired or if he punished her for her actions earlier.  He smiled to himself as she reached his feet, her tongue darting out as she began teasing his toes with her mouth, worshiping her Master.

She reverently kissed his feet, sliding her tongue out to slip it between his toes, trying to show her Master her regret for her earlier actions by showing what a good slave she could be, all thoughts of herself as a college student, as a free woman with her own will, were gone--she was only a kajira, only a slave, with a slave's heat in her belly, with a slave's need and a slave's desire to please her Master and be pleased by him.  She slid her hands around his calves and slowly ran her tongue up the inside of his leg.  When she was kneeling before him, her head between his thighs, her mouth lightly sucking on his flesh, she reached up and found the band of his boxers and, as he slightly lifted his ass, slid them down his legs and off, freeing his cock, almost hard again.

She slid her lips over his testicles, her small hands sliding up and down his cock as she sucked one ball and then the other softly into her mouth before dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, ending by suddenly engulfing it in her mouth, feeling his thighs tense up with a feeling of satisfaction.  Slowly she used her inexpert mouth on him, trying to sense what he liked and what he didn't, using her hands to caress his body even as she used her tongue and lips and cheeks on his manhood.  She slid her hands across his chest when he removed his shirt, leaving him as naked as her, and she wanted to rise up and mount him, but knew that she had to wait for his command, that she was to remain on her knees, in obeisance, until he directed otherwise.

He let her pleasure him for a long time, his earlier cum giving him greater control as his sexy little slave tried her best to bring him to orgasm.  As he felt himself get close, her shifted, pulling her head off of his cock by her hair, and, as she looked up at him, said, "Usage position," feeling her body almost melt in lust and need as she turned and positioned herself on her elbows and knees, her thighs spread wide, her cunt a wet, swollen slash of red between her legs, seeming to pulse as he knelt behind her, his cock slick with both her saliva and his own pre-cum.

------

She felt him grip her hips and moaned in frustration as she felt it press up against her ass, her forehead resting against the floor, her whole body aching with need.  As he forced himself into her ass, her skin seemed to burn with sensation.  It felt so different from when Jeff had taken her, the feeling of flesh as opposed to latex warmer, rougher, sexier; the angle allowing him deeper, his balls slapping against her gaping cunt, making her jerk in pleasure.

He started fucking her methodically, sliding his cock almost all the way out of her clinging asshole before quickly jamming it back in, his hips slamming into her ass, rocking her whole body forward, his balls swinging forward to slap against the wet, needy slash of her cunt.  She was riding a plateau of pleasure so high it was incredibly frustrating, because she knew all she needed to do was to touch her clit, or have him touch her clit, for just a few moments, and she would cum, a wonderful, powerful orgasm.  His hands gripped her hips as he used her, her need and her frustration growing as she mewled and grunted out her desire as he stretched her asshole wide open.

When he came, she shuddered, her own pleasure so intense she couldn't think straight--she wanted, she needed to cum so badly.  She stayed, panting, on her knees and elbows as he pulled his cock from her ass, leaving her feeling empty, unfulfilled.  She felt him stand, and then lean over her, his hand grabbing a handful of her hair.

"Leading position," he said, and she scrambled to her feet, her head down near his left hip, her body weak with the slave heat that seemed to be devouring her.  She wondered what he was going to do as he led her into the bathroom, noticing in passing that it was large, clean, and modern, with a separate shower and bath.  His hand still in her hair as she maintained the leading position, she heard him turn on the shower, adjust the temperature, and step in, still leading her.

As the warm water streamed over her body, dripping off her hanging breasts, she fell back to her knees as he released her hair, her head turning up to him, her face and eyes turned just enough to avoid the spray of the shower.

"Clean me," he said, handing her a washcloth and soap, leaning his hands against the wall of the shower, his arms straight, his body relaxing as he looked down at her.

She felt something shift inside her as she began slowly bathing her Master, running the cloth first across his feet and slowly moving up his legs, soaping him, caressing him, serving him.  The heat she was feeling, the overwhelming need to cum seemed to melt into her, to slide from her skin to her very core, calming her, clearing her mind, letting her think for the first time since it had hit her.  The desire was still there, the need to be pleased by her Master, but it was less urgent, less demanding, as if her body accepted that it would come when her Master willed it, and that that was right.  Steve was her Master, and she was his, in everything.  She leaned into his legs, feeling his warmth as she reached around to wash the back of his thighs.

She slowly worked her way up his body, gently, lovingly cleaning his flesh, sliding the washcloth gently over his testicles, over his cock, her tongue darting over her lips as she suppressed a surge of lust that flared from her belly.  She slid around behind him and stood to wash his back, pressing her body against his, her breasts pillowing against his back as she reached around him to clean his stomach and chest.  When she was done, she dropped back down to her knees, her thighs wide apart, and waited.

She shivered a little from the cold when he turned off the water and opened the shower door.  "Dry me," he said, and she rose, selecting a towel and drying her Master, drying each foot last as he stepped from the shower.

"Very good, Stephanie," he said, as she dropped back down to her knees, the water still glistening on her skin, her wet hair matted against her back.  "Tell me, do you want to cum, Stephanie?"

She turned her eyes to find his staring down at her, her nipples hard from both lust and from the water cooling on her breasts, her eyes begging, "Yes Master."

"Do you deserve to cum, Stephanie?"

"No Master.  I am ashamed of how I acted earlier with Jeff."  The words felt right coming from her lips, and she felt a strange satisfaction in that she had found them, had found just the right words to express her submission.

She gasped as she felt his toes slide against her spread cunt, and she couldn't help jerk her hips slightly forward, the sensation electric against her oversensitive flesh.  She saw a smile spread across his face, amused at her need, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she realized what she was doing.  Humiliation flooded her as she felt herself humping against his toes as he stood over her, her hands palms up on her thighs, lust flaring as an orgasm like none she had ever felt seemed to race toward her, making her gasp and tremble as she kneeled at his feet.

As suddenly as it came on it was gone, his toes pulled back, leaving her stunned and confused.

"Here, Stephanie," he said, tossing her a towel.  "Dry yourself off, get dressed, and go home.  I'll call you tomorrow."  It was a dismissal, and she felt herself tearing up at her unfulfilled need, remaining on her knees, towel across her lap.  She stood, toweling off, trying to calm herself, trying to cool the heat that still burned in her loins.  She was still fuzzy with lust as she walked into the living room to retrieve her clothes, her Master calmly watching television, ignoring her.  Pain from his disregard flooded through her, but she swallowed it, knowing that it was no more than she deserved, that she must submit to him completely, the thought making the heat in her belly burn stronger.

During her walk home she tried to tamp down the slave-fire that threatened to engulf her mind, tried to start thinking like a good student, trying to think about her classes and her studies, but her thoughts kept being pulled back to her Master and how he had come so close to giving her such an orgasm with just his toes.

------

The night had been terrible and wonderful at the same time, brutally erotic dreams waking her every few hours, her fingers buried in her cunt, slick with her own juices, until she couldn't stand it anymore and decided she would be better up and about instead of thrashing with frustrated lust in her bed.  She went immediately to her computer and couldn't help but to start surfing her standard bdsm picture and story sites, her mind wallowing in her need, her fingers stroking her cunt lightly, teasing herself, promising herself she wouldn't cum because her Master wouldn't like it, but needing the stimulation, the pleasure, even as she knew teasing herself would just make it worse.

She checked her email just to cool herself off, and discovered that her Master had left her an email.  Her heart seemed to jump, and she couldn't help but reach back down to her clit and slide her fingers across the slippery little bundle of nerves, making her moan in frustrated need.  She opened his email and saw a single request, that she e-mail him her class schedule.  She quickly obeyed, her lust cooling a bit as she typed in something so non-sexual.  She grunted in frustration as she pushed away from her desk and decided to shower, promising that she would keep her hands off of herself.

It was after her second class of the day, around noon, when she was heading to grab a bite to eat when she heard her cell ring, and, looking at the number, realized it was Steve, her Master, a flush spreading over her as she hurried to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello what, Stephanie?"

She swallowed, looking around, embarrassment fighting against lust as she cupped her hand around the mouthpiece of the phone, hoping that nobody could overhear.

"Hello Master," she responded, her voice cracking just a little at the last word, her cunt sending a flush of warmth through her body.

"Very good.  Now, I see from your e-mail that you have an hour break.  Did you cum after you got home last night?"

"No Master."

"Why not?"

Confusion made her pause.  "Because my Master didn't tell me I was allowed to...Master."  Her heart seemed to skip a beat when she saw a guy walking by glance at her--did he hear?

Her heart pounding in her chest, a blush at wondering whether or not she had been exposed rising in her face, she waited for her Master's response.

"Very good, Stephanie.  Now go, right now, to the closest bathroom you can find.  Once there, take off your panties and stuff them in your mouth and give yourself a nice, long orgasm, or two, if you wish.  When you are done, clean your juices off of your fingers with your mouth and leave your panties off, then call me.  Do you understand?"

Stephanie swallowed, lust rising in her at his words, and she nodded even as she said, "Yes Master," waiting until she heard him hang up.

She practically ran to the nearest bathroom, hurrying into a stall and sliding her shorts down her legs and pulling off her panties before putting her shorts back around her ankles.  Balling up her panties, she pushed them into her mouth, the cotton drying her mouth, her nostrils flaring as she sucked oxygen in through her nose.  Her hand flew to her clit and she leaned back on the toilet, her eyes closed, her thoughts running back to the previous night.  Within moments she was close, pleasure racing through her as she pictured herself as the protagonist in a story of submission, as a kajira bowing and crawling and being used like she had been the previous night, augmented by the sounds of people coming and going from the bathroom, so close to seeing what a needy little slave she was.

She coughed into her makeshift gag as her orgasm hit her, the muscles on her stomach and thighs rippling as her fingers and toes arched in pleasure.  It was so good, being a slave, feeling this.  So good.  She sat there for a moment, feeling the aftermath, her fingers still idly sliding across her clit, her thighs damp with her own cum, and she remembered that he had said that she could have two orgasms, and moaned, happy that the panties in her mouth muffled the sound, her fingers starting their dance across her tenderest flesh again.

It took longer, the sensitivity of her clit making every sensation more intense, harder, her imaginings becoming darker.  Now she brought to mind a picture of herself hanging by her wrists, remembering the sensation of the belt on her back, on her ass.  She remembered how it had felt when Jeff had taken her ass as she was bound, her mind flashing to when Jeff had raped her, raped away her virginity against the wall of a shower, and in her mind Jeff was followed by a line of men, all holding her helpless against the shower wall, all driving their cocks deep into her spasming cunt, using her, taking her, and she came a second time, hard, sharp, almost painful pleasure rocking her.

She sat there, a comfortable relaxation settling over her, her fingers still at her groin.  She shook herself once, and brought her fingers to her lips, gently cleaning them with her lips and tongue, sucking her juices from her fingers, the sour taste making her grimace even as she obeyed her Master, internally thanking him for allowing her to cum--she had needed it so badly.  She wiped herself clean, pulled up her shorts, feeling strange without panties, and went out to wash her hands and to call her Master.

Outside once again, she found a place that was reasonably private and made her call.

"Master?"

"Yes, Stephanie?  I'm surprised it took so long.  It's been a half-hour.  Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes Master.  Thank you for letting me cum, Master."

"You are welcome.  I have one more thing for you to do before your next class."  Stephanie shuddered at his words, wondering.  "Go to the campus store and buy two packs of normal sized condoms.  Jeff is going to be using you quite a bit, and he doesn't want to have to carry around a pack of condoms on his own.  Oh, just so you know, when he uses your ass or cunt, he's to wear a condom.  Understand?"

Her heart fluttered on hearing how casually she was to be used, humiliation and lust flooding her.  She was a kajira, a slave, a thing for pleasure, and that was how her Master was using her. 

"Yes Master.  I understand."

"After your classes come by my apartment.  I'll be waiting."

She couldn't wait.

------

She was embarrassed to buy the condoms, happy that nobody she knew saw her, and that the girl at the register barely looked up as she rung her up.  They were in her bag as she walked over to her Master's apartment, her heart beating like a hammer, feeling her cunt-lips slide wetly against each other with each step she took.  The mere thought of Steve, her Master, made her insides turn to jello and a heat rise up from her cunt.  Her mind floated in a haze of lust as she walked up the hills to his place until she was standing before the door, nervously straightening herself, preparing herself.  She knocked.

The door swung open and he motioned her in, closing the door behind her.  She turned, looking at him, wondering why he wasn't speaking, wondering why he was just starting at her with a small frown on his face.  Realization hit her, and she blushed even as she dropped her bag on the floor and fell to her knees in Nadu position, her shorts pulling up into her crotch as she spread her legs, her head and eyes up.  She saw him nod in satisfaction, a flush of pleasure flooding her as she kneeled submissively before him. 

She shuddered as she felt his hands reach around her head, pulling her hair back, bunching it at the back of her head, his hand holding it in a ponytail, looking down at her as she steadied her breathing, remaining in position as he examined her.

"Very pretty," he said to himself.  "From now on, Stephanie, you will wear your hair in a ponytail or a french braid."

"Yes, Master," she responded, her stomach fluttering.  She loved her hair, loved the way it framed her face, softened it; loved the way it hung around her shoulders.

She saw him nod again, and licked her lips as she watched him unzip his pants, his cock, half hard, springing out as he pushed his pants and boxers to fall around his knees.

"Get me hard, slave," he ordered, stepping forward just enough so that, leaning forward, she could take him into her mouth.

Her hands reached out as she leaned toward him, her lips, soft and wet and red, parted slightly, one hand finding his hip, the other sliding underneath his balls, caressing them, lifting his cock by its base as she gently moved to engulf it in her mouth.  The feel of it, soft, smooth, the taste of it, slightly salty, blended as she took him to the root, running her tongue across the underside of his cock, compressing her lips, squeezing its base gently.  A rush ran through her as she pictured herself, a slave, on her knees, pleasuring her Master.  Excitement and lust rushed through her as she felt him harden, doing her best to please him, to be a good slave for her Master.

It felt like she had just started, his cock now hard, making her gag just a little as she pushed her head down as far as she could, its head pushing against the back of her throat even as her hands caressed both his balls and the base of his cock, her eyes rolling up to look at him gazing down at her, his slave, his kajira--the mere thought making her cunt flutter with pleasure, leaking juices onto the crotch of her shorts--one hand resting on her head, when she felt him slowly draw his cock from between her lips, making her feel strangely empty, useless.

"Usage position."

She fell forward onto her elbows and knees, the hardwood floor hard and cold, turning around for him, her shorts tightening against her ass as she pushed it up and out, an offering for her Master.  She closed her eyes to keep from moaning as she felt him drop to his knees behind her, his hands on her hips, reaching around her body, unbuttoning and unzipping her shorts, his hands sending shivers up and down her body as he slid her shorts off of her hips, pushing them down to her thighs, just far enough to reveal the glistening wet gash of her cunt.

When he entered her, his hands hard on her hips, she moaned and thrust back at him, the heat in her belly blossoming into a fire, her body melting in the pleasure of her complete submission.  She was his, his to use, to take, to fuck.  She moaned again as he began moving inside her, fucking her hard, fast, using her for his pleasure, the thought enough to drive her over the edge, her body shuddering in orgasm, her cunt spasming around his cock as he continued to fuck her.

She jerked when she felt his hand slap against her ass, a loud smacking sound ringing in her ears, a shock of pain on her ass blending with the orgasm engulfing her.  Another slap made her gasp through her pleasure, seeming to heighten it before it left her, spent and trembling as his cock continued to plunge into her slick cunt, churning her insides, growing the left-over tingling from her orgasm until she was gasping again in pleasure, her forehead resting against the hardwood, her body seemingly no longer her own.

She wanted it to last forever, to be forever on her hands and knees being used by her Master, pleasure filling her as he used her, orgasm after orgasm rolling over her body as she submitted to him.  She felt his hands tense around her hips, his hips grinding against her ass as he grunted, a second orgasm rolling over her as she felt him cum into her, taking pleasure from her body.

She knelt there, on her knees, her head against the hardwood, spent, the feeling of him softening inside her so nice, suddenly feeling empty when he pulled out abruptly.

"Clean me."

She turned, her shorts around her thighs slowing her, and, still bent over, took his softening cock into her mouth, tasting his cum and her juices covering his soft, slick flesh, reveling in the feeling of utter submission, the air cool on her swollen, spent cunt.  She ran her tongue along his thighs and balls, turning her head and shoulders to reach him as he kneeled there, looking down at her.  When she finished she returned to nadu position, feeling his come start to slide from her cunt, the sensation slightly strange and erotic.

Steve stood and pulled up his pants.

"Pull up your shorts and leave.  Come by tomorrow after your classes."  With that he turned his back on her and went to the couch.

She breathed in deeply, dismissed, and slid her shorts back on, feeling the crotch dampen with their mixed juices, and stood to leave, looking imploringly over at her Master to see if she needed anything else from her, wishing, hoping.  He didn't turn, didn't look at her, so, disappointed, she left, closing the door behind herself.

------

The next morning Stephanie stood in front of her bathroom mirror and stared at herself as her hair slid between her fingers, twining about them as she slowly braided her hair, over, under, over, trying to see herself as her Master would see her.  She saw a young woman, Chinese, with big, almond-shaped eyes, fine brows, a pretty face with smooth, light-olive skin, and her hair pulled back from her face, exposing the smooth, delicate flesh of her neck curving gently into her shoulders.  She saw for the first time how exposed she was, two large hoop earrings hanging free from her ears, no longer obscured by her hair, her neck exposed, open, strangely sexy, the silver choker, a sign of her slavery, tight against her throat.  She felt her heart speed up at this simple act of obedience, this simply exposure dictated by her Master's will, and slid her hands down her sides to straighten her summer dress.

All day she felt it, the air on her neck, the choker seemingly heavier, the way her earrings swayed just a little bit more than usual, how it was all at his whim, the sensations, the thoughts, keeping her at a low boil, her cunt slippery with her juices as she made her way from class to class, taking notes, being a good student even as she was being his slave.  When the time came and she was standing before his door, her stomach was shivering in anticipation, her cunt juice soaking her panties.  When she knocked, she heard him yell to come in, so she opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her before falling to her knees, in nadu position, as she knew was required of her.

She waited, her eyes locked on him as he sat on the couch, watching television, ignoring her, her anticipation growing, the thought that he would get to her when he was ready making her body burn with humiliation.  She waited, wondering whether to speak, knowing she shouldn't, that she should just wait, listening to the sounds of the television, wondering what he was watching.  High-pitched female cries mixed with Japanese, and then grunts and the slap of flesh on flesh and she knew he was watching porn, and she blushed, her excitement growing, her body squirming as she fought to maintain position.

She ran her tongue across her lips as she saw him lift the remote; the sounds of the video stopped and he stood up, walked around the couch, his eyes catching hers as she kneeled before the door, and approached.  She shivered as he reached down, his hand brushing against her shoulder, running up her neck to the side of her face, her lips parting, her eyes begging.

"Very good, Stephanie.  I like the braid."  His fingers ran along the choker.  "I especially like the way it highlights your collar."

She unconsciously leaned toward him as he stepped closer to her and lifted her braid.

"Take off your clothes, fold them, and put them beside the key," he nodded toward a side-table next to the door, and she noticed for the first time a key there.

Her mind clouded with lust, she stood before him as he stepped back, his eyes on her making her feel owned, possessed, desirable.  She slid the dress over her head, folding it before her and slowly, deliberately, placing it where he had commanded.  Her bra followed, the simple act of disrobing as he watched sending shudders through her body.  She cast her eyes down, a blush spreading across her face, as she slid her panties down her legs, folding those too, until she was standing nude before him, her eyes cast down, shame and lust swirling through her mind.

"High harness position."

It took a moment to register the command, and she gasped when she did, the words seeming to send her deeper into her role as his slave.  She straightened, keeping her feet about a foot apart, and leaned her head back, feeling the braid falling down her back, her eyes locking on the ceiling.  She saw him in her peripheral vision as he walked around her, her breath speeding up as his hand slid across her stomach, leaving a trail of burning need.

"From now on, slave," he said, now behind her, his hand slipping across the soft skin of her ass, "whenever you come into my apartment, you will strip and then kneel.  If I am home, you will kneel facing away from the door; otherwise you will kneel facing the door."  He paused, now in front of her, and she gasped as she felt his hand slide across her breast, a spark of pleasure racing through her body as he brushed against her nipple, now as hard as she could ever remember.

"Yes, Master."

"The key," he continued, pacing around her again, now his hand sliding around her shoulder and across the back of her neck, "is to my home.  It is yours.  Use it only when I tell you to."  Surprise widened her eyes, and then a rush of excitement and a profound feeling of, she didn't know what, but it was pleasure beyond sexual.

"Yes, Master."

"Good." he finished, walking away from her, "Now, make me some tea, Stephanie."

Confusion stopped her for a second, almost made her speak out of turn; she came here to be used, to be fucked and humiliated and treated like a slave, and then the realization hit her that that was what he was doing, using her like a slave.  He would use her, she knew, use her for his pleasure, and hers, but now he was showing her her place, which was whatever he wanted, not what she wanted.  She moved, heading for the kitchen even as she heard the television start back up, glancing at it as she walked by, seeing an attractive Japanese woman naked, a leather collar around her neck and wrists and ankles, kneeling in a cage while a man was leaning down placing a dog-bowl full of food in front of the cage.

It was strange, making the tea, nude, with the sounds of Japanese porn in the background.  It was an everyday task, calming, with no sexual connotation, made sexual, every motion she made seeming to both remove her from her situation as a slave-girl, and to re-enforce it.  She waited, watching the teapot as the tea steeped, feeling her nudity, her feet against the floor, the air across her thighs, her breasts hanging free; listing to the sounds of and cries of sex and despair in Japanese.

She padded into the living room, keeping her eyes down, avoiding the temptation to watch the images on the television, and placed his tea and teapot on his coffee table before falling back into nadu position, her eyes on him as he leaned over and picked up the cup, sipping his tea as his eyes remained glued to the t.v..

"Look at the television, Stephanie."

She started, doing a quick little double-take, and then turned toward the screen, shifting her body, keeping her thighs apart.  On screen the nude woman, wrists encased in black leather cuffs, a foot-long silver chain connecting them, was kneeling before a man, her lips around his cock.  A leather collar and leather ankle cuffs completed the look, and in the background her cage seemed to loom over her, a bowl of dog food next to her.  She was struggling, just a little, as she was used, gasping and mewling and gagging as her captor used her mouth for his pleasure.

"Play with yourself." 

The turned quickly back to him at his words, blushing as she found his eyes on her.  Embarrassment flooded her at the thought, to masturbate in front of someone else, to be kneeling and playing with herself as he watched....  She shuddered in lust as one hand slid between her legs, her legs parting even more, as the other slid up to her chest, sliding across her nipples, her head turning back to the television as her fingers caressed the folds around her clit.

The perverse images on the screen filled her mind, joining the knowledge that his eyes, her Master's eyes, were on her, were watching her as she played with herself, at his command.  She let out a low moan as her fingers lightly slid across her clit, the moisture from her cunt making them slip across her skin easily.  She was that woman in the movie, a Chinese girl captured by a Japanese man, caged, bound, used, unable to understand anything except his desire to humiliate and use his captive.  She was on her knees, gagging and choking and crying as he fucked her face, just freed from her cage, leather decorating her neck and wrists and ankles.  She dug harder at her clit, her other hand squeezing one breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers, as she glanced toward her Master, an electric shock of pleasure jolting through her body as she saw his eyes, intense, locked on her.

Her eyes returned to the screen, and she knew he was close to cumming; he pulled out, his fist wrapped around his dick, his hand in her hair as he dragged her face toward the dog bowl.  Her face and his dick were over the bowl, and he came, strings of his cum landing in her food, covering it.  A moment later he was yelling at her, pushing her head to the bowl, and she knew she must eat it, a look of horror and disgust coming over her pretty features at this new degradation. 

She moaned louder and came, her thighs trembling, her fingers convulsively clutching at her breast, her fingers dancing over her clit, as the woman in the video slid her tongue from between her lips and, with a look of revulsion, touched the cum-covered food before her.  Suddenly the video stopped, the woman frozen in her degrading act, and he was on her, her Master, his hands gripping her head, his pants off, his cock hard as he slid it across her lips.  She opened her mouth and moaned as he slid it into her, controlling her with his hands on her head.  She sucked, moving her tongue across his cock as he thrust in and out of her mouth, making her gag as he forced his cock to the back of her throat, using her mouth like a cunt.

Everything was a blur, the pleasure from her own cum, the humiliation and shame and excitement of performing for him swept away by her Master's need, filling her mouth with his cock, forcing it on her, using her without any concern for her needs, using her as nothing more than a slave.  The aftereffects of her orgasm seemed to flood back into her, her lust growing with each thrust of his cock to the back of her throat.  She felt him shudder and then his cock pulsed in her mouth, his cum splattering against the back of her throat as she swallowed. 

He kept his cock in her mouth as he softened, letting her taste the last of his juices as they oozed from his cock-head.  Done, he turned, leaving her on her knees, panting, and pulled on his boxers before turning back to his sweet, sexy slave.

"Not bad, slave, but a good slave should be able to take her Master down to the root."

She could still taste his cum in her mouth as his words registered, and she felt her heart speed back up, realizing what he meant, what he wanted, excited to try it, to become better, more experienced, for her Master.

------

"Leading position."

She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding, bending at the waist and letting her braid fall to the side of her head.  She grunted when she felt him grasp it, turn, and start to lead her across the apartment, following closely, still excited, even after all her use, by this simple act of submission.  As she was led into the bathroom, she felt Steve position her before the mirror before tugging her upright, making her gasp as she saw herself in the mirror.

Her body seemed to shine with a thin layer of perspiration, her eyes lidded with lust, her lips looking swollen and red and wet, her nipples taut and hard against the small mounds of her breasts.  Beads of her own juice glistened off her pubic hair, and, as she glanced over at her Master in the mirror, she saw how small, how delicate she looked next to him.  Her gaze was torn from herself as Steve stepped in front of her, picking up something from the bathroom counter.

It was lipstick, she saw, red lipstick that he had grabbed and was opening in front of her, and she wondered what he was going to do, licking her lips, thinking maybe he was going to put it on her.

"Hands behind your head, slave."

As she complied, she shivered as he ran his fingers from the soft spot between her collarbones down to just above her pubis, his eyes seeming to judge her body as a canvas.  She sucked in her breath as he pressed the lipstick between and just above her breasts.

"S," he spoke each letter as he wrote them, the first starting just above her breasts and ending just below them.

"L"

"A"

"V," where the bottom of the V touched together just below her belly-button.

"E," the bottom of the letter sliding across her pubic hair.

She gasped, a roaring seeming to fill her head as he hooked two fingers up inside her cunt, his thumb pressing against her clit, sliding back and forth just a little, as he stepped aside to let her see herself marked as a slave, his slave, the letters a scarlet slash across her torso, seeming to glow in her vision as a submissive excitement tore through her, making her legs tremble and her stomach quiver.  She stood like that, quivering, her excitement building and building, her eyes locked on the word across her body, on how it marred her skin, how it degraded, dehumanized her, the addition of his fingers in her cunt driving her crazy with need and lust, watching how her body started to slowly rock as if of its own accord against his hand.

"What are you, Stephanie?"

"A slave."

"What are you?"

"Your slave."

"What is the purpose of a slave?"

"To serve her Master."

"What is your purpose, slave?"

"To serve you," she gasped out, a small, rolling orgasm shaking her body as she watched herself and answered him, pleasure seeming to consume her body.

"Would you do anything I asked?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

Confusion rippled over her even as another small orgasm rolled through her, making her moan.  What did he want?

"Yes Master."

"So if I told you to get a nose ring through your septum, you would go out and get one?"

Her stomach tightened up, and before she could answer, he continued, "And if I told you to get a tattoo of the word 'slave' across your right cheek," he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, "you would?"

Her mind swirled, knowing the right answer, and knowing the true answer, seeming to paralyze her lips, making her unable to speak.

"Of course you wouldn't, Stephanie.  I understand.  This need of yours, this need to be sexually degraded and used and humiliated, this fantasy you have of complete submission, is secondary to maintaining your respectability.  You still need to hide your true self from your friends and family, don't you, Stephanie?"

She found it hard to follow his words, his fingers now working her cunt, the word slave emblazoned in scarlet lipstick across her torso, but she recognized the question at the end.

"Yes," she gasped.

"Just because I understand doesn't mean I won't punish you for not being a true slave."

At the word 'punish' a third small orgasm bloomed from her groin, sending pleasure though her body and making her legs tremble with weakness. 

"Yes Master.  I'm sorry.  Please punish me for not being a true slave."

He smiled at her words, and smiled again as she gasped when he removed his fingers from her cunt, her body shivering as if cold even though sweat slicked her body and her skin was flushed with exertion.  He wiped his hand across her thighs, transferring the juices that had soaked it back onto her skin.  He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out two medium sized binder clips that he had placed there earlier, and one small one.

When he had removed his fingers from her, she had closed her eyes, trying to regain some control of herself, blocking out the picture she made in the mirror, of a marked slave in full slave-heat.  When she opened them again she saw that he had pulled out three binder clips, and shuddered to think of what he was going to do with them.  She trembled as he stood before her, one hand sliding across her breast, squeezing it, making the nipple, already hard, stand out, the other hand opening the binder clip and closing it over her sensitive flesh, crushing the nipple in its embrace.

She sucked in her breath as the pain hit her, sharp and insistent, slowly dulling into a steady ache.  He repeated his actions with the second clip, and she breathed out through her mouth, the pain colliding with the pleasure still radiating from her cunt, with the excitement she felt at being punished like this.  She closed her eyes, shaking, as he kneeled before her, his fingers spreading her swollen cunt-flesh, knowing where he was going to place the last clip, knowing how much it was going to hurt, wanting to pull away, the lust driving her holding her in place.

She moaned in pain, her knees bending, her stomach and breasts shaking, her head falling just a little bit back as the last clip closed over her clit, binding it, binding her, the pain throbbing, aching, pulsing through her body.

He walked behind her as she stood there, her mind consumed with the sensations throbbing through her body, lust and pain and need and excitement filling her.  His hands were hot on her hips as he grabbed her.

"Hands on the counter, elbows straight.  Look at yourself in the mirror," he commanded, and she obeyed.

He pulled her hips back, his feet slipping between hers, pushing her legs apart, bending her over, and then she felt his cock pressing against her swollen, needy cunt, and her lips parted, her eyes locked on her own face as if she were watching another, her Master a shadow behind her.  She grunted as he entered her, slowly, as if he wanted her to feel every inch of him, her nipples throbbing, blood pulsing through them, her clit aching even as her flesh stretched around it, the pain seeming to stretch with her flesh.

He fucked her slowly, steadily, the sensations in her body building, intensifying, the clamps seeming to hold back her lust, her need, her pleasure, letting it build up behind a wall of aching, throbbing, pain, leaving her craving release, craving more, harder, faster.  She lost track of time, feeling and staring at herself, at the markings of 'SLAVE' across her chest, at the binder clips crushing her nipples, at the binder clip's arms sticking out from between her legs, at the expression of need and lust on her face.

Suddenly his hands were off her hips and at her breast and the clips were gone, and then the clip at her clit was gone.  For a second there was nothing, and then the pain hit, blending with the built-up desire that he had filled her body with, and she moaned in both pain and pleasure as her nipples and clit seemed to light up in pain and she shuddered into orgasm even as she felt his hands back on her hips and his cock pulse inside her, her mind going blank as the intensity of it darkened her vision.  It seemed to last forever, the muscles in her stomach, thighs and cunt pulsing in time with the horribly fast beat of her heart, the pain of blood flowing back into her sensitive flesh slowly bleeding away until she leaned down onto her elbows, her head against the counter, her breathing coming in gasps even as his cock remained in her cunt.

He pulled out, and she heard him tell her to clean him.  She turned, unsteadily, and fell to her knees before him, taking his cock, coated with her juices, into her mouth, almost numb from the power of her orgasm, her body falling into a quiet, pleasant lethargy, drained of lust and need.  It felt so wonderful.

------

------

Future ideas: 

1.  Steve has two coins made, a gold one and a silver one, each stamped with a Kef on both sides.  Stephanie is not allowed to hold either coin in her hands, only in her mouth or her purse.  She is required to give a blowjob to anyone who offers her the silver coin, and is required to offer any of her three holes to anyone who offers her the gold one.

2.  Steve takes her to a plastic surgeon to have her clitoral hood removed (http://www.geocities.com/hoodectomy/hoodectomy.html)

3.  Steve forces her to wear a pony-tail or french braid at all times

4.  Steve gives a silver coin to a lesbian friend of his

5.  Steve takes Stephanie to a SF party, masked and collared, where she is forced to dance and then 'auctioned' off, the party members bidding sexual favors to Steve in return for using her ass or cunt.

6.  Steve forces her to wear a crotch rope underneath her clothes; he also forces her to wear a rope bra instead of an actual bra

7.  Steve has her belly button pierced

8.  Steve has her get a nose stud

9.  Steve has her nipples pierced

10.  Steve exposes her to her best friend, causing a drastic change in their relationship

11.  Steve gives her a slave name, Erika.

12.  Steve buys a cage and has her stay in it when she's over at his place and not being used or useful

13.  Steve makes her wear a slave garment whenever she comes over to his place

14.  Steve makes her wear ben-wa balls whenever she's in class

15.  Steve forces her to get a tattoo of a Kef on her right thigh, near her hip

http://tdte.porkyhost.com/instruction.htm

He pulled out of her mouth, making her feel strangely empty, and she turned her eyes up to him, her eyes following him, watching as he turned and cleaned himself, the quite afterglow from her orgasm gently fading as he looked down at her there, kneeling before him on the cold bathroom floor, his spend slowly leaking from her, drying on her inner thighs, her lips bright and swollen and wet from cleaning him.  He smiled and touched her head, and she mewed softly, not knowing what was happening to her.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him as he pulled his clothes back on, her body relaxed, exhausted, her mind seemingly empty of anything except what was right before it. 

"Go get dressed, slave," he said, looking down at her as she dropped her eyes from his gaze, a blush spreading over her as she realized how much she had exposed herself, how she had humiliated herself.  "I know you have a full day of classes tomorrow, so come by at noon the day after.  I won't be here, but Jeff will.  He says he wants to fuck your ass again; Amy doesn't let him in her ass, and he really likes yours."

The words didn't register fully as she stood and walked to the front to retrieve her clothes.  No Steve tomorrow, a strange disappointment flooding her before she pushed it away.  She liked him, liked the games they played, but it was too much, too fast.  God, had she really played with herself in front of him?  Had she really told him that she was his slave, that he should punish her?  Her face burned in humiliation, even as she remembered how her body had reacted, how her skin had seemed to burn and her body shake with need.  How, how was it possible?  Was that really her?  And then the import of his words sunk in.  Jeff.  He was 'giving' her to Jeff as if he owned her. 

"No."  Apprehension fluttered in her stomach as the word came out of her mouth.  God, it had been so good with Jeff, but it had made her so ashamed, so ashamed that she was having sex with her best friend's boyfriend, so ashamed that she hadn't been able to stop herself.  She didn't want to start up again, she didn't.  She stuttered, and then continued.  "No.  I won't have sex with Jeff.  He's my best friend's boyfriend.  Not anymore.  I don't want to be like that."  Why was she so nervous about this?  "We can do anything, you can do anything, but not Jeff.  Please."

He turned, still seated, and stared at her, and she quivered at his silence.  She liked him, liked Steve, sex with Steve, in a way she hadn't with Jeff, and the sex, god the sex, was unbelievable, even though it scared her, even though the way she reacted, the way she turned herself over to him so completely, the way each humiliation, each small degradation made her pant with lust frightened her beyond belief.  She wanted to be with him, but not like this.

"Give me the choker, and the anklet."

It was as if he had punched her, her world seeming to fall away. 

"Please Steve, please...."

"Shut up.  Give me the choker and the anklet, and leave.  Oh, and leave my key too."

"Please Steve, it's wrong.  It's wrong for me to have sex with Jeff, please...."  She could feel tears in her eyes, and ran her hand across her face, her body, so hot just a few moments ago, was now so cold.

"A slave doesn't get to decide what's right or wrong.  A slave trusts her Master.  I don't want a slave, hell, I don't want a girlfriend, who doesn't trust me.  Go."

She didn't trust him?  She did, she did, she wanted to say, but it was wrong, what he had asked her to do was wrong, would hurt Amy--she couldn't do it.  All those weeks when she had been being used by Jeff had been wrong, no matter how good it had felt.  She had to stop it, had to keep it from happening again.  She felt a tear slide down her face as she took off the anklet and the choker and placed them on the side table by the door and leave.

Walking home, she was in a daze, the scene running over and over through her mind.  It was over?  It had just started, and now it was over?  Why was she crying?  Why did it hurt so much?  All he had done was humiliate her and use her for sex.  Jeff had raped her, they had beaten her.  God, what was wrong with her?  She shook her head, trying to clear it, and recalled the markings on her body, blushing.  Her fantasies, she thought, they had played on her fantasies, taking advantage.  That was it.  It had felt so good, though, so good to lose control, to give in.  She shuddered and tried to shut off her thoughts.

She was glad that Amy wasn't back yet, glad that she was all alone in her apartment.  She undressed; she needed a shower, needed to clean herself of sex and the markings down her torso.  "SLAVE".  She looked at it in the mirror, running her hand down the smeared, faded lipstick.  It was a fantasy, only a fantasy, she thought as she pulled on fresh panties and a night shirt.  She would take a shower later.  Now she just wanted to sit.

The front door opening shook her from her thoughts and she jerked up in surprise as her door was flung open. 

"Jeff, what the?  Amy isn't..."

"Steve called me.  Said you and he split."  A grin split his face.  "I figure you'll need someone to console you."

Surprise overwhelmed her, freezing her in place, as Jeff walked up to her, his hands gripping her head as she tried to pull back, leaned over, and kissed her, his lips hot on hers.  She pushed back, angry now, grunting into his mouth even as he pushed her back onto the bed, dragging her small body until he was on top of her, pinning her even as she struggled, his hands now around her wrists, holding them back over her head.

"Get off!  Get off!" she yelled, her lithe body squirming under his.

"Go ahead and scream, Stephanie.  I'm sure," he said, leveraging himself up onto his knees, leaning over her, one hand pinning her slender wrists above her head as the other slid her nightshirt up her body, "that when the police come, and Amy comes, and they see these letters on your body, and the whole story comes out, everything will work out for you just peachy."  He leaned down, his mouth finding her neck, sucking her flesh between his lips.

Oh god, oh god, Amy, her parents, her friends, they would all know.  Fear and humiliation flooded her.  She couldn't do anything, couldn't stop him.

"This is rape.  Jeff.  Rape.  You're raping me."

He pulled his lips from her neck and bared his teeth at her, his face mocking, his free hand slipping between her panties and her flesh, his fingers hooking up into her cunt, thrusting hard into her slick canal.  Her hips arched in surprise as a sharp pleasure shot through her.  When did she get wet again?  Why did his fingers feel so good?  Humiliation piled upon humiliation as he laughed in her face.

"You can't rape the willing."

------

"Please Jeff, please...", she whined, his fingers rubbing up against her cunt walls making her head spin, "I don't want this, please."

"Jesus, Steph, you have no idea how hot you are," he leaned down on her, covering her body with his, his fingers pulling out of her, sliding against her swollen clit.  "Like this, resisting, begging, when we both know you really, really want it, that you're just a teasing little slut."

She arched her back as his fingers smashed her clit, shocks of pleasure/pain making her body shiver, her mind spinning.  Why did it feel so good, so good?  Why was she trembling so much?  She didn't want this, but it felt, it felt....  She couldn't stop him, couldn't do anything, she was completely at his mercy, forced, against her will.  It was rape, rape, her mind seeming to melt along with her body.

"Okay, Steph," he spoke into her ear, his hot breath making her body flush, her nipples hardening underneath her sleeper, "I'll tell you what.  I won't fuck you unless you beg me to, okay?"

The words seemed to come from far away, and she nodded, hope filling her, and somewhere deep down some other feeling that she didn't understand.  Then his assault really began, his body heavy on hers, his legs between hers, his hand still holding her wrists above her head and his lips found her lips, and her neck, and her collar bones, leaving a burning trail of sensation across her flesh.  His free hand ran across her body, up her shirt, across her breasts, each brush across her nipples dragging a moan from her overly sensitized body, his hips pressing her down on the bed, the bulge in his pants joined with her pubic bone, smashing the tender flesh protected only by the thin layer of her panties, the pleasure almost making her gag.  Over it all, under it all, was her helplessness, his strength, his domination of her body, his weight holding her pinned to the bed, forcing her, making her take it, making her feel this pleasure.

The assault seemed to go on forever, until she was grinding her groin back up against his, her lips parting when his mouth found hers.

"Beg me to fuck you, Steph, beg me," he said, pulling back, only his hands and his hips holding her down now, looking down at her flushed, panting face, her lips parted in need.

Oh god, her body burned with need, her eyes captured by his face as he looked down at her; he was so big, so strong.  All she had to do was to say the words, say them and he would take her, right there, would give her the relief her body craved.  She couldn't, couldn't.  It was too humiliating, too wrong.  He was her best friend's boyfriend, and she had told Steve 'No'--Steve floated through her mind, the memory of the shock of his rejection cutting through her lust--so that she wouldn't be that person anymore, wouldn't be that person who fucks her best friend's boyfriend.

"No."

She cried out when he jerked her into a sitting position, dragging her arms behind her, his belt looping around and around her wrists as his body pressed against hers, and then she was back down again, her arms forcing her breasts forward, her hips tilted above her bound hands, his hands and lips and tongue all over her.

She closed her eyes, trying to think about other things, other things than how hot his mouth was on her nipples, how his fingers seem to draw burning sensations across her stomach and arms, how her wrists were bound beneath her, how helpless she was, how all Jeff saw her as was flesh, flesh for his pleasure, flesh upon which to gratify his own lust; about how firm his fingers were, twisting about in her cunt, sending sparks of pleasure rushing through her body, about how close to cumming she was as his fingers found her clit.

Again and again he teased her to the peak before letting her draw herself back, fighting her own pleasure, each time the peak seeming to get higher and higher, and every time he would stop and say, "Beg me, Steph, beg me," and every time she would whisper "No," at which he would laugh and continue tormenting her body.

A ringing phone interrupted him and he sat up, off of her body, only his fingers in her pussy still connecting him to her, still making her writhe and pant on the bed.

"Hey, Amy.  What's up?  Okay.  Yah.  Yah.  Five minutes?  I was just coming over to see you, so I'm close.  I'll have Steph let me in and I'll wait for you.  Yah.  See you soon.  Love yah.

"Too bad, Steph.  It looks like we'll have to continue this tomorrow.  You'd better get cleaned up before she gets here; you wouldn't want her to think we were fooling around," he smiled, and she hated him right then, but she hated herself more for being so disappointed that Amy was coming back.

------ 

Her clothes left a trail behind her as she staggered to the shower, her body trembling in need, denied lust fogging her mind.  Cold water sluiced over her body, the shock helping to clear her mind, cool her body, her trembling being replaced by shivering as the cold seemed to seem into her bones, displacing the heat that had made her want, so much, to beg for Jeff to take her, to rape her.  Through the shower she heard Amy come back and heard Jeff answer her, their voices mumbles through her water beating against her skin as she adjusted the heat of the water and began to soap herself clean.

Stephanie closed her eyes, remembering her first time, the time when Jeff had raped her in the shower of Bowles hall.  Raped.  The word seemed to make her body flare with lust.  He had raped her and then used her to satiate himself, and she had loved it.  Tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered how much it excited her, how much she had anticipated his arrival, her next use.  She felt the humiliation of it, the degradation of it, the pure wrongness of wanting her friend's boyfriend so much.  That was part of it, though, she knew, part of her fantasy, to be completely and utterly sexually possessed, to have her will mean nothing in the face of a man's lust, to have his desire for her be so powerful he desired to own her completely.

When she had been with Jeff, it was like Stephanie had disappeared and another girl, a slave-girl, a kajira, had taken her place, and she shuddered in the shower at the thought, her fingers sliding down to tease her clit, excusing herself for her weakness, needing to cum, needing to clear her mind of the lust which wouldn't let it be free from imagines of herself held down and raped, bound and beaten, used over and over again by Jeff, by Steve, by every other one of her male friends, each spitting on her in disgust at her depravity even as they vented their lusts on her body.  As pleasure grew, her fingers becoming more insistent, her mind flashed fantastic images and sensations to her, images and sensations that were more exciting for being true:  of the feel of the belt striking her skin in Steve's apartment, her arms held above her; of that moment of surrender when she apologized to Steve for refusing him and asked for punishment; of the image of herself in the mirror, just hours ago, marked as a slave, her body writhing and arching in pleasure; of the feel of the platinum choker around her neck, another around her ankle, marking her as owned.  She grunted as the orgasm took her, shaking a little in relief as her need peaked and then receded.

As she was stepping out of the shower, she shuddered as she realized the memory of the sensations that had sent her over the edge had been the simplest ones, that of the feel of the collar around her neck, the knowledge of being owned, completely owned, by another.  What was she going to do?

------

"Jeff.  You know you can stop calling me every hour."

"Sure.  Sure Steve.  Just tell me again why I don't just take that little slut and fuck the shit out of her like I was doing before."

"Really, Jeff?  Do I really need to do that?"

"Steve, it's been three days.  My balls are fucking turning blue.  Amy's getting pissed because all I want from her is to blow me, and I've been reduced to screwing Rosie.  So yes, I do need that."

"Okay, okay.  If you go back to just fucking Stephanie like you were before, either she'll break down and tell Amy or Amy'll figure it out, and, either way, you'll be screwed.  Think about it.  Your parents and her parents are friends.  I wonder how many hours you'd have to listen to your mother and her disappointment in you.  Amy and Stephanie and you travel in the same circle.  Amy and Stephanie would end their friendship, people would take sides.  You'd be the bad guy, and Stephanie wouldn't be much better.  It'd be a huge shitstorm for weeks.

"When she comes back to me, you'll be able to use her whenever you want.  I mean, she'll be going out with me.  You'll be coming over to visit me, and Stephanie will just happen to be there.  There is no way that Amy'll believe that you'd fuck her when I'm around, or that I'd let you.  It'll be perfect for you."

"Sure, sure.  But why hasn't she broken yet?  I've been playing with her for hours a fucking day, man.  I mean, you said it wouldn't be long before she'd be crawling back to you.  Jesus, you try to keep from raping the little bitch when she's writhing on the end of your fingers, moaning and tossing her head around."

"So she hasn't begged you to fuck her yet?"

"No.  If she had you'd think I'd be bitching about blue balls?"

"She fighting you at all?"

"No, man.  She's pretty submissive; always has been, except for that first time.  She won't give in, though."

"She'll give in.  Trust me.  I told you within a week, right?"

"Yah."

"Then give it a few more days.  Keep working on her.  Let her know what she's been missing.  Heh."

"Okay, okay.  I'll play it your way.  I just hope it pays off soon.  I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

"You break, she wins.  Remember that."

"Sure.  Got you.  Talk to you later, man."

"Bye."

------

Stephanie leaned her head against the side of the shower, the water beating against her back, her knees aching, uncomfortable in her kneeling position, panting as her fourth orgasm of the day left her.  It had only been three days, three torturous days where Jeff seemed to spend all his free time teasing her, playing with her, telling her what a needy little slut she was and that all she had to do was to beg him to fuck her and he'd take care of her needs.  She hadn't broken, but how she wanted to, how her body seemed to be constantly on fire, only an almost pathological level of masturbation keeping her from giving in, the release of an orgasm quieting her need, but not for long enough, not for long enough.

It wasn't working.  She knew it.  She had even started thinking about going to a club in SF and picking up some random guy to fuck, letting him crawl on top of her, his body hot and strong and hard, and slide himself inside her, taking her, possessing her, owning her.  She felt her body start to warm up again and she moaned in despair--she had to stop it.  Even her friends had started to notice that she was distracted.  Amy even teased her, saying she was obsessed about a man, and she had blushed, embarrassed by her friend's innocence and tormented by her own guilt.  Soon, she knew, soon she would give in, she would beg Jeff to take her, to fuck her, to rape her, anything, anything to relieve the need that rode with her almost every moment of the day, to dispel the dreams that had come, dreams of being bound and taken, of being forced to dance before the lusting gaze of hundreds of men, of crawling and writhing toward them in the flickering light of a fire, of being raped over and over, of offering herself to faceless bodies with cocks and fingers that would torment her until she woke up with her fingers buried in her cunt and an overwhelming need to cum.

She knew, too, that it wouldn't be enough.  As exciting, as fulfilling as it had been with Jeff, as it would be with Jeff, it wouldn't be enough.  He wanted her, would fuck her once or twice a day, but that's all she was to him, a fuck-hole, a place to put his dick to relieve an urge.  She shuddered, her fingers working their way back down her her clit as pictures of him using her filled her mind.  She couldn't deny it, wouldn't deny it anymore, that that was only part of what she wanted, part of what filled her fantasies.  Her hand gently rose to her neck and she remembered the chain that had been there, had signaled her slavery.  A kajira was more than just a fuck-hole, more than just masturatobory toy; a kajira was a valued possession, a treasured animal, a pet that was loved for its obedience, its beauty, its pliancy.  She wanted that, fantasized about that, and, ever since she had met Steve, ever since Steve had taken her, taken her by force, she needed that.

Captured, broken, raped, forced to learn what it meant to be a slave, trained to use her body to please, images of her fantasy rose up in her mind as she lost herself in the fantasy, one hand stroking her throat, the other playing over her swollen, needy clit as her fifth orgasm of the day welled up inside her, her heart racing, pushing from her mind the sure knowledge of what she knew she had to do.

------

As Steve stepped out of his shower and made his way to the kitchen, a towel still around his waist, he paused, just for a moment, as he saw Stephanie kneeling, naked, head down, legs spread, in Nadu, just inside his door.  His heart tripped, and he smiled inside as he continued to the kitchen, ignoring her, and pulled out a beer.  Luckily, he had been prepared for this moment.  A beer in hand, he walked over to her, looking down at her as she kept her gaze at his feet, taking in her nudity, her long, smooth, dark hair pulled back into a pony-tail, exposing the creamy flesh of her neck; her small, rounded breasts, moving slowly with her breathing, her nipples hard and demanding; her narrow waist, her stomach flat and sexy; her thighs, strong and lean and sexy, spread wide, exposing the glistening pink gash of her cunt, her body open to him, for him. 

Without saying a word he reached down and grabbed her hair and pulled her into leading position, a little surprised at how easily that term came to mind, dragging her after him into his bedroom.  He led her to the foot of his bed and pushed her back down to her knees, smiling as she resumed her Nadu position, the foot-board of the bed to her back.  Leaving her there, he pulled a tripod that was leaning against the wall and set it up, placing his video camera on top of it and putting Stephanie, nude, kneeling Stephanie, in the frame.

"Okay, Steph," he said, walking over to his desk chair and moving it behind the camera, sitting, still in his towel, "I assume you want me to take you back.  Well, you're a pretty bright girl; and you're damned fine; and I do love fucking you; and I especially love how much you get off on acting like a slave.  It really turns me on.  The problem, to me, is simple.  You don't trust me.  You don't trust me to give you what you want within your limits.  I tell you to fuck Jeff, and you tell me no.  You don't tell me your feelings, you don't tell me why you might not want to fuck him, you just say no.  Kajira don't get to say no, Steph.  You know that.  It doesn't mean that you cannot respectfully question my command.  With Jeff, I know you don't want to fuck him, and I know why.  Hell, he's your best friend's boyfriend.  He thinks first with his cock.  You might cum your brains out when he fucks you, but you can't enjoy betraying your friend like that.

"Yah, I know all that.  I also know that if you become my slave again, I will let him fuck you.  I owe him for introducing us.  I also know that if I don't, he'll go around telling everyone what a kinky slut you are.  I'm guessing you really don't want that, Steph, that you really don't want him talking about you like that, telling everyone what he's seen us do.  Besides, you're a slave, you don't have a choice.  You aren't betraying your best friend, I am, and he is.  You are simply doing what you're told.

"Now that that is out of the way, I'm going to tell you what you have to do if you want to become mine again.  It has to do with this video camera.  When I turn this video camera on, you are going to look right at it and tell it your dirty little secret, about how you came to want to be an owned fucktoy.  The whole time you will be playing with your slutty little cunt, and the grand finale, after you finish your tale, is that you'll have a nice big cum for the camera.

"You understand, Steph?  You are going to give me the power to completely and utterly humiliate you to everyone you know, and to millions of strangers.  You are going to have to trust me that I will not betray that trust.  Your choice, Steph, your choice."

She was terrified as she listened to him, the hope of his hands in her hair, of his leading her to his bedroom, replaced by the sinking feeling of rejection, the feeling that even debasing herself like this would not be enough, that she would be left to her own devices, her own needs overcoming her such that she would give in to Jeff, let Jeff use her, as unsatisfactory as that would be.  She trembled as she listened, one edge, wanting to speak, knowing she shouldn't, until he spoke those final words. 

Silence seemed to roar in her head; the choice, the choice....  Her body seemed to burn with those final words, to be humiliated like that, to be exposed to everyone, a video of her, of her telling everyone of her true nature even as she teased her aching clit.  Oh god, she burned--she wanted it so badly, so badly, even as she wanted to stand up and run back, put on her clothes, and leave.  He was just sitting there, watching her, almost nude, covered only by a towel:  she wanted to look up, wanted to see him, wanted to see his cock, but she was afraid to raise her eyes.

"So, Stephanie, do I turn the camera on or do you leave?"

She raised her eyes, looking not at Steve, but right at the camera, her body trembling.  "Please, Sir, please turn on the camera."

Smiling, Steve turned on the camera and sat back down, ready to enjoy the show.

------

"My name is Stephanie -----.  I am a junior attending U.C. Berkeley; I am 20 years old."  She paused, uncertain on how she should continue, her face red as she remembered that Steve had commanded her to masturbate.  She swallowed, her face red.  "I am kneeling here...here," she stuttered, one of her hands sliding down her thigh to brush against her cunt, "because I'm a slut.  Ah, god."  Her cunt felt swollen, her clitty already hard.  "I'm a slut who wants everyone to see what a dirty little girl she is."  Her consciousness seemed divorced from the words, her mind floating distantly.  "I'm a slut who wants you to watch as I play with my pussy.  I'm a slut who wants you to watch her cum.  Ahhhh," her body quivered as she concentrated on her clit, pleasure rolling through her body, the humiliation of what she was doing feeding it, feeding her perversity.

 

"It started...I guess it all started when I was 11.  I mean, this desire, this, oh god, consuming desire, to be seen as a, as a...a sexual thing.  It was when I was 11, that was when I first read John Norman's Gor books.  It was like I was reading, for the first time, about how a woman should be, about how I should be.  Sexy, desirable, wanted, lusted after....  Owned.  Free to be all of that because she was owned. Because she wasn't free, she could be herself, without censure, without constraints. Her true self.  It was like a revelation.  I was 11, and I wanted to be those women.  I still want to be them, to be a kajira, a slave-girl--wanted, owned, valued, possessed."

 

She paused, the camera catching her eyes, her unfocused eyes, as if they were looking inward, even as she moved her other hand to her breast, slipping across her nipples, teasing them, her other hand glistening with the juice slicking her swollen cunt, a red gash between her legs.

 

"It was all sexual back then, but not like now.  I really didn't know about sex then, didn't know anything.  I just knew that I needed to be sexy, and submissive, without really knowing what that meant.  It excited me, but, I guess, not really in a sexual way.  It is weird, really.  It didn't really become sexual until I was 12, when I first got my braces put on.  I mean, there I was, lying on a dentist's chair, unbound but helpless.  I mean, I was free, but I wasn't supposed to move, was just supposed to lie there, my mouth open, while the dentist did these things to me, these things....  They didn't hurt, not really, but it was close, like a pressure around my teeth as he tightened the braces, a...a...a sensation.... I don't know, but, anyway, it made me feel something down there, for the first time.

 

"When I got home, after, you know, I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop thinking about just laying there while a man played in my mouth, bound my mouth, and I started to think about Gor again, and kajiras, and how they would obey, even if it meant being whipped, and I found myself clenching my thighs together and unclenching them and it felt so gooooood."  She paused, her focus coming back, back to the camera, her hips rocking slightly back and forth, back and forth, her nipples being rolled gently between her fingers, her cunt being pierced by her other hand, her thighs quivering, her chest rising and falling more and more quickly.

 

"I came.  I still remember.  Oh god it was so good, my first cum.  It was so intense it hurt, and I wanted to stop, but I couldn't, didn't, and then it hit me and it was wonderful.  I was hooked.  I was a slut.  Every day I would think about sex, and think about being owned, and almost every day I would masturbate and cum.  I kept it secret, though.  I was a kajira in my fantasies, but a good girl for everyone else to see.  You are seeing my true self," she paused, looking at the camera, her fingers lazily teasing her cunt and nipples, "a slut who wants to be a slave, kneeling, pleasuring herself."

 

She was shaking now, her voice the only steady part of her, her words coming as if from somewhere deep inside her, as if she were telling a secret she had long prepared, long rehearsed, to tell, and only her body resisted, quivering and shaking and sweating even as the pleasure of her masturbation filled her, the humiliation of saying these things, saying them at all, and in front of a camera, filled her with dread and shame and yet thrilled something deep inside of her, thrilled that masochistic exhibitionist who trembled in excitement at being so exposed, thrilled that little girl laying on the dentist's chair, a man hovering over her, dominating her, controlling her.

 

"This slut," she gasped, knowing she needed to cum, wanting to cum, wanting to cum while the camera caught her, caught her expression, her need, her craving for the pleasure that was building within her, "this slut wants to cum.  Oh god.  Oh god.... Ahhhh!" she cried out, her whole body trembling, her body hunching over as her orgasm overwhelmed her, leaving tears in her eyes as she twisted her nipples and pinched her clit, trying to tear out every last bit of sensation from her cum.  When it was finally over, she returned to nadu position, looking down, her mind spinning, regretting, glad, happy, fearful--emotions blazing through her as she waited for Steve to act.

------

Steve stood and moved over to the camera, casually turning it off, his cock seeming to pulse with pleasure as he had watched Stephanie expose herself so fully, all for him.  "Very good, slave," he said, turning his eyes to her.

That word, "slave," seemed to flash through her mind like a strobe, clearing it of everything, an almost physical sense of relief flooding her.

"From now until I say otherwise," he continued, "you will be under the discipline of the she-quadruped.  You may moan; you may yip; you may scream; that's it.  Now, crawl to the closet there and retrieve the collar I have in there and bring it to me."

She still couldn't look at him; she was too embarrassed by what she had just done, too embarrassed by her relief in being accepted by him again, too excited at his command for her to suffer the discipline of the she-quadruped to look at him.  She fell down onto her hands and knees and started to crawl over to the closet, acutely conscious of him as he watched her, as he backed up and sat back down, his eyes on her body, her nude body, crawling for him, debasing herself for him.  Every motion of her body--so unnatural, to crawl so--reminded her that she was watched, her thighs sliding against each other, her breasts hanging, jiggling, beneath her, the floor hard against her knees, her hands, her wrists twinging, her hair falling down past her face as she kept her eyes down. 

She listened as he pulled his phone from his pocket, opening the closet door with one hand, careful not to use her thumb--he had said she was to act as a beast, and he was watching.  She listened as he dialed, pawing through the bottom of the closet looking for a collar, her collar, feeling her body heat up at the thought, a pleasurable flush filling her groin, her mind starting to fog.

"Hey, Jeff," she heard him say, and she stopped in shock, a shudder racking her body.  She had known that he would let Jeff use her, but not so soon, not now.  She felt like she was going to cry, and then her eyes found the collar.  It was a simple, leather dog collar, with chrome spikes around most of it and a single loop next to the buckle for a leash.  Thoughts of Jeff left her mind and she almost reached out for it, remembering only at the last moment that she was not to use her hands.

"My bitch is back.  Yah.  She's right here, crawling for me.  Yep.  That's right.  The sooner the better.  Okay.  Okay.  I'll see you in a few.  Bye." 

The words seemed to flow into her, through her, running around her body as she lifted the collar with her teeth, tasting the leather against her tongue.  They filled her body, flooding it with lust, her mind fogging, her thoughts narrowing to the feel of her own body, of its movements as she crawled back to him, of the sensation of the collar between her teeth, of how she was a bitch, a dog, an animal, her Master's pet, her Master's pet that he was going to show off to his friend.  She wanted him, wanted him to touch her, to mount her, to use her like a wild beast; she could feel herself start to whimper with need deep down in her chest as she turned her head up to him, offering him her collar.

He smiled down at her as she lifted the collar up to him, crawling, a tiny, almost whine coming from her as he took the proffered collar and tossed it onto the bed.  "Not yet, Steph.  After your punishment is done, after I release you from the discipline of the she-quadruped, then you will wear the collar.  Now, crawl into the living room, in front of the TV, and get down on your elbows, ass up.  Jeff will be here soon, and I suspect he'll want to fuck you."

She almost moaned in disappointment, the need inside her growing.  She found herself wanting Jeff, wanting him to come in and see her, see her kneeling and obedient, see her willingness to be used, to give him pleasure, at Steve's command. 

------

Every minute she knelt, every second that passed, seemed to build the tension inside her body, the waiting almost a torture, feeling every inch of her nudity, of the way she arched her back, of how her weight pressed against her elbows and forearms and knees, of how exposed she was, her body parallel to the couch, her ass raised high.  Time ticked by slowly, ever so slowly, as she listened to Steve, to her Master, walk around the house, her eyes closed, willing him to take her, willing Jeff to come and take her, clenching and unclenching her inner muscles just to feel that fleeting moment of pleasure deep inside her groin.  She had never felt so much a possession, had never been so deep before, everything submission before a prelude to this moment when she had given everything up, had given up her deepest, darkest secret, had had it taped--she shivered as she realized how much power she had given him, her Master, how he could ruin her, destroy her; the very thought made her body burn with both humiliation and lust.  She wanted him to do it, to show it to everyone, to make her a pariah, and outcast, good only to be used as a kneeling slave.

She jerked as she heard a knock on the door, and then Jeff was there, loud footsteps and a loud voice.  "Where's the little bitch," she heard him say, and then, "Ah, there you are, Steph.  Looking good, you teasing bitch.  I've been waiting for three days now, you stupid cunt, and I'm really going to enjoy this."

"First, though," he said, making her quiver, her eyes still closed, "I'm going to make your ass nice and red for giving me such a fucking case of blue-balls.  Damn, girl, you even managed to get Amy pissed at me I was asking for so many blowjobs.  She just didn't understand that her best friend was making me so horny."

She heard it before she felt it, a 'woosh' through the air, and then it struck her, her body jerking, pain lancing through her ass, his words mingling with the slap of the belt across her flesh.  "Bitch.  Teasing.  Little.  Fucking.  Bitch.  Sexy.  Fucking.  Cunt.  Damned.  Gonna.  Fucking.  Hurt.  You.  Damned.  Slut."  She was moaning, tears running down her face, dripping onto the hardwood floor, her ass burning, pain filling her body, her lust unabated, wanting him to stop only so that he would fuck her, the pain a repentance, a catharsis, her body rocking forward with each blow, seeming to sway backward into the next. 

Then it stopped, and she sobbed in pain and need as she heard him step out of his pants, waited as he fumbled, remembering that he had to put on a condom to use her now--she was Steve's, and Jeff had to follow his rules to use his property, the thought making her almost cry out for him to use her.  Then his hands were gripping her hips and his cock, cold in its sleeve, covered with lube, pressed up against her ass. At first it was slow, pressing into her nether hole, making her tremble as she felt herself give, her anus opening under the pressure, and then, suddenly, his hips jerked forward, and she screamed out as her ass was filled, as his hips slammed into her ass cheeks, her whole body jerked forward, pain and pleasure mixing, her cunt spasming in jealousy as Jeff started riding her hard.

"Fucking teasing cunt," he growled, pounding into her, thrusting forward each time as if trying to drive her whole body into the ground, as if trying to punch his cock through her body, to skewer her from ass to mouth.  His hands on her hips hurt; his cock pounding her ass hurt; but just the right amount, it hurt just the right amount to be so good, so good she thought she was going to pass out, so good she thought she was going to explode.  He stopped, her body trembling against hers, his hands digging harder into her hips, making her moan, and she knew he was cumming, disappointment flooding her, and she groaned, humping back at him, trying to relieve the burning need in her cunt.

"I think my bitch wants to cum," she heard her Master say.

"Then she'll just have to suffer.  Bitch gave me blue balls for three days.  It'll serve her right to feel a little bit of that.  Hey.  Is it okay if I take a seat and have her suck me off a bit?  I love having a hot mouth around my cock after I get off."

"As long as you clean yourself up first, go to it.  I don't want the bitch to get sick.  Oh, and I'll show you Steph's video debut, too.  You'll love it."

"Thanks."  She knelt, panting, her heart throbbing in her chest, her ass pleasantly sore, the pain of his hands on her hips still lingering, her forehead resting on the floor as she listened, the heat in her body, so focussed just moments before, dissipating throughout her body, her mind empty except for the need for more:  more sensation, more pleasure, more pain, more use.  The water in the bathroom ran, and she heard Jeff's footsteps as he came out of the bathroom, felt the floor shift as he stood next to her, his hand grabbing her hair, dragging her over to the couch as he sat, pulling her face against his cock, the scent of soap filling her nostrils as he held her there and simply said, "Suck."

She moaned as she slid her lips around his softening cock, her hands on his thighs, kneeling like a slave before him, her knees apart, her ass sore, her cunt feeling empty, tingling with desire, her body hot.  As she caressed him inside her mouth, she heard the television turn on, and suddenly, behind her, she heard her own voice, "My name is Stephanie...".  She quailed inside, her stomach tightening, her body shivering as she listened to herself, listened to herself as she degraded and humiliated herself in front of the camera, heard the quiver in her voice, heard the hitches in her breath as her excitement built on camera.  She could feel herself turning red as Jeff's hand tightened on her scalp and his cock started to harden again.  She saw Steve out of the corner of her eye as he sat down on the other end of the couch, her body growing hot at his nearness.

"Jesus, Steve," she heard him say, "you've got the bitch now.  Jesus."

The words made her tremble.  She had placed all her trust in Steve; she had given him something horrible, something with which he could truly blackmail her, could truly make her do anything.  Her body burned hotter as she continued to work on his friend, as she knelt before him.

"Damn, Steph, I always did like the way you came, that sexy expression on your face," she heard Jeff say as his hands took either side of her head, guiding her mouth over his cock.  "Hey, Steve, can I have a copy?"

The pause by her Master made her moan in despair, mouth filled with cock, "No.  I don't think so.  I'll keep this to myself for now."

"Eh.  Too bad.  Jeez, Steph, you've gotten good at this.  Uhh.  Take it, you bitch, drink it all down, you stupid little slut.  Uhhh."

She gagged as the first spurt of his cum hit the back of her throat, swallowing quickly, hollowing her cheeks and sucking, flattening her tongue, pleasure filling her as she accepted his spend, taking it into her, giving him pleasure at the will of her Master.  He kept her there like that, suckling his cock, until he softened again, and then pushed her away and pulled up his pants, leaving her kneeling, unsure as to what to do.

"On all fours, bitch," she heard her Master say, and immediately fell to her hands and knees.  "Hey, Jeff, why don't you get her something to eat?  Just toss it on the floor--she'll eat every bite, isn't that right, Steph?"

She could feel her face turn red, her whole body trembling with the need that had been stoked in her since her Master had ordered her to get her collar, that need that had built through Jeff's ass-fuck and had grown with the taste of his cock in her mouth, his cum filling her, sliding down her throat, on her knees, enslaved. 

"Yip," she yipped for "Yes, she would eat from the floor for him; she would crawl and lick the floor clean; she would do anything for her Master."

She crawled into the kitchen, her ass high, her eyes on the ground, as Jeff rummaged around in the refrigerator and Steve restarted her video, the sound of her own voice, her needy, wanton voice, a background to the buzzing in her ears, the throbbing of blood through her body, the slickness on her thighs signalling her need.  She jerked when a piece of sandwich meat slapped to the ground in front of her, glancing up at Jeff who had sat down at the kitchen table, watching her, a smirk on his face.  She bent down, using her lips to pull the meat into her mouth, feeling like an animal, a beast, feeding on scraps by the kitchen table.  She shuddered and clenched her thighs, whining in need.

"Hey, Steve, I think your bitch needs to cum.  She's practically humping air here."

"Sure.  Whatever.  Have her fuck the table leg.  That's what bitches do, isn't it?"

"Heh.  You heard the man, Steph.  You can cum, you greedy slut, but you'll have to do it by rubbing your nasty cunt up against the table leg here."

Humiliation flooded her, made her pause, just for a moment, before a fire seemed to blossom in her belly.  It was awful, humiliating, degrading, and her mind was filled with fog as scuttled over to the table, her knees on either side of the table leg, her arms behind her, supporting her as she leaned back, her hips pushing her cunt up against the leg, her head hanging back, her hair brushing against the floor, her lips parted as she moaned in pleasure as she pushed slowly, steadily, against the table leg.

"Eager little bitch, aren't you Stephanie?"  she heard Jeff say, his words filling her with a self-loathing that seemed to fuel her lust, her hips jerking upward, pain that was pleasure rocking through her body, another moan torn from her.

"Jesus, Steph, you're one hot bitch, you know that?"  More, she thought, she wanted more, harder.  She wanted Amy here, to see her, to see her shame, her degradation.  She moaned again as her hips bucked against the table leg, the leg glistening with her juices.  She came, grunting out her pleasure, but she couldn't stop, couldn't stop with Jeff just sitting there, watching her; she imagined that it wasn't just him, wasn't just Amy, but all her friends, all her friends watching that tape, all her friends watching as her Master led her crawling, on a leash, before them.

She felt hands in her hair, and she opened her eyes to see Steve looking down at her, "She's a beautiful, sexy fucking animal, isn't she, Jeff."  The words, the feel of his hands, his eyes on her body as she ground her cunt against the table leg brought another orgasm crashing down around her, her body shaking, a gagging, incoherent sound coming from her throat, her mind blanking as pleasure filled her.

------

As she dressed, getting ready to go home, she thought about what Jeff had said after she had come down from her orgasm. 

"You are one lucky girl, Steph.  I mean, I love fucking you and all, but no way could I put up with this crazy slave-thing you've got going.  I mean, making you crawl, and eat off the floor, and shit like that might be fun for a time or two, but, man, I'd get tired of it pretty quick.  Steve, though, Steve's totally into it.  I can't think of too many guys who'd put in the effort.  They'd just do what I was doing and come by and fuck you; maybe they'd play a bit, but not like Steve's doing.  Like I said, you are one lucky girl."

She had felt it, she had felt that relief, that release of tension, when she had known that Steve was going to take her back, was going to treat her like a slave again.  Before Jeff had spoken, she hadn't thought of what Steve had been doing as work--she had thought that she was the one giving of herself, that he was only taking from her, using her body, using her as a thing.  But, she realized, he had had to manage her, had had to push her, and tease her, and keep her sexually stirred up, had had to be in control so that she could lose control completely.  She was lucky, lucky to have such a person, a person who didn't judge, a person who wanted for her what she wanted, and wanted for himself what she wanted for him--her sexual slavery to him. 

The next day Steve showed up when she and her friends were eating lunch and made it clear that he was her boyfriend, surprising her with how good it made her feel, even though her friends teased her and peppered her with questions until it was time to go back to lunch.

That evening, she was back on all fours, her ass up in the air, crawling for him, laying on the floor, forced to watch the video of her humiliating herself, waiting for Jeff to come and fuck her.  For the next week it was like that, one moment a young woman, a student with a new boyfriend, laughing with her friends, studying with them, the next a slave, on all fours, crawling, wishing and hoping for her Master's touch, being denied in her punishment, being taken and used by his friend, humping her cunt against his shoes, his couch, his table, anything to find release, no matter how humiliating or degrading.

Amy teased her about Steve, and, as bad as she felt about deceiving her friend, about knowing what her friend's boyfriend was doing to her almost every day, the need to submit to her Master overwhelmed her until it seemed she lived for those few hours a day when she could be crawling at his feet.  It was when she was leaving his apartment, just before the weekend, that he asked her a question.

"Hey, slave.  How long has it been since I've fucked you?"

She paused, her eyes downcast, "Eight days, Master.  It's been eight days since you've fucked me."

"Pack an overnight bag.  You are staying over here for the weekend.  If you're good, maybe that will change."

"Thank you Master," her body trembling with a sudden, overwhelming need as she left.

------

She was glad that Amy was home for the weekend--she was sure that Amy would tease her mercilessly about spending the weekend at Steve's place, especially since she thought Steve was such a good catch.  Standing at his door, the excitement and need in the pit of her belly making her quiver, she took a deep breath and unlocked the door, stepped in, shut and locked the door, and immediately fell to her knees.  She kept her eyes cast down as she removed her clothes, folded them, and placed them on the side table near the door.  The humiliation of it, the submissiveness of it, seemed to blank her mind of everything except her own nudity, of her own servitude, and she fell to her hands and knees, knowing that she was still under the punishment of the she-sleen.  Tucking her legs under her, she lay down, waiting for her Master's orders.

"Come here, slut," he said, and she rose to her hands and knees, eagerness filling her; he had made her wait for an hour before, lying there, hoping, a dog waiting for her Master's call.

Keeping her ass up, her elbows bent, she crawled across the floor, her eyes up, her heart skipping a beat as she rounded the couch and saw, right where the coffee table used to be, a cage.  It was a cage.  She stopped, and moaned, her eyes lifting to meet his as he sat on it, holding the front of the cage open, an evil smile on his face and two vibrators in his hands.

"I had this custom made for my slave.  It cost me a bundle, but I'm sure she'll be happy waiting on my pleasure here, when I so desire it.  Oh, and notice that it opens from the inside, but only locks from the outside, so you'll be able to get out whenever you want, but I'll know."  He smiled again, loving the way her breathing had quickened, the way her pupils had dilated in lust.  "Oh, and before you go in, I've got two toys for your slutty fuck-holes."  With that, he waved the two vibrators in front of her, one clearly meant for her ass, the other with a jointed end and a protrusion for her clit.  "Now, back in, my slave.  I want to see how you look in a cage."

She looked at him, through him.  A cage--he had purchased a cage, had had one built for her, for her.  A cage.  The thought sent a warm flush through her body, seeming to concentrate in the pit of her stomach, pleasure blossoming in her cunt, hazing her mind.  She looked up at him smiling down at her, at her, his animal, his willful beast, his slave, and then back at the cage, wondering at it.  It was all black, with crossed bars, thick for being woven through each other, with about two inches square between each weave, with the frame consisting of inch thick steel, easily supporting Steve's weight.  She could see that, if she crawled into it, that her lower back would press against the top of the cage unless she spread her legs.

She looked up at him again, and turned around, a whimper escaping her throat, a need building inside her, a need to be caged at her Master's command, a need to be completely bound by him, completely kept.  She slowly backed up, her head turned, her eyes behind her, her knees feeling the pain of the bars against her flesh first, drawing another whimper from her as her Master looked on as she caged herself.  As her head entered the cage, as her hands pressed against the hard, meshed metal of the floor of the cage, as her toes felt the back of the cage, she shuddered, a wave of intense feeling washing over her, her eyes closing as she paused and just felt, just felt, the cage around her, the bars holding her in, capturing her, possessing her.  She lowered herself onto her elbows, and pushed her hips down, adjusting herself, feeling the extent of her cage, feeling how uncomfortable she would be, her weight pressing down against the metal bars, unable to stretch out, caught, trapped, kneeling, naked, exposed.

Her body jerked when she felt and heard the door to her cage close, her eyes opening, seeing her Master from within her cage as he looked in at her.  Oh god, she felt like her skin was burning, her thighs clenching, drawing a moan from her as pleasure flooded her whole body, the pain of her confinement a minor distraction to her complete subjugation.

"Here slave," her Master said, pushing the vibrators through the cage.  "You know what to do with these.  Now, try to be quiet.  I have some work to do.  Oh, and see, right there?  If you need to get out, just get out.  Of course, that's only for an emergency.  I'll come by and check on you later."  He gave her a little wave and walked into his bedroom, leaving her alone.

------

The feeling of the anal vibrator sliding into her cunt sent electric shivers down her spine, making her gasp, her breaths coming in pants as she lubricated the vibe using her own slut juices, feeling so dirty, so degraded, as she participated in her own humiliation.  Pushing it into her ass she closed her eyes as pleasure washed over her, a strange heat making her gasp as a sensation akin to an orgasm flooded her, leaving beads of sweat on her body.  She jumped when she turned it on, her heart thudding in her chest as the vibrating sensation flooded her ass and lower body.  She waited, motionless, until her breathing evened out and her heart stopped thudding in her chest, and moved the other vibrator to her cunt, slowly pushing it in, gasping as it slid easily into the tight sheath of her pussy.  She shuddered and came, a gentle, rolling pleasure suffusing her body, as the vibrator's clit teaser slipped against her clit, holding it there as she accepted the pleasure, rode it, panting when it left her body.  She had just cum, and she was still so close, another orgasm seemingly just within reach, her body hyper sensitive to any sensation, even the pain in her knees and elbows transformed into a wonderful ache. 

She turned on the vibrator lodged in her cunt, the sensations striking her like an electric bolt, a strangled scream pulled from her, her fingers curling around the cage bars as she pushed her head against them on the floor of the cage, the sensations almost too much, almost painful.  She felt it coming, felt the pleasure building deep in her groin, the vibrating plugs in her body, against her clit, sending her pulse racing, her heart hammering in her chest, her breath short and shallow and quick as she closed her eyes and felt her captivity all around her.  Her hips jerked, her lithe Asian body trembled and spasmed and ecstasy flooded her, rushed through her nerves, sending her body shaking, the cage rattling around her as she shook and moaned, her mind blanked, the only thing that mattered was her cum, her wonderful, wonderful orgasm that made her toes curl and her body tremble.

Sweat dripped from her body as the orgasm left her body, leaving her limp and spent, panting in the cage.  The metal bit into her arms and forehead and knees and she shifted, the reminder of her captivity, of her utter subjugation, combined with the vibrators still maddeningly pulsing and twisting in her ass and cunt to reignite her lust.  She moaned again and shifted, greedy for the coming pleasure.

Lost in her own lust, every sensation she was feeling inside the cage adding fire to her need, she barely heard her Master, her jailer, when he walked in and looked down at her through through the cage.

"Slave.  Hey, slave!"  She looked up at him through lidded eyes, the vibrators driving her toward another orgasm.  "Shouldn't you thank your Master for getting you such a nice cage?"

"Ah.  Ah."  Her mind fogged with pleasure, she almost forgot herself, almost forgot that she was only an animal now.  "Yip.  Yip yip."  She tried to wiggle her ass, the movement turning into a trembling shudder as another orgasm gripped her body.

"That's a good bitch," he said as she sagged in the cage, her head against the ground.  "How many times have you cum, slave?"

"Yip, yip, yip."

"Good slave."  He patted the cage, driving home her confinement.  "I'll be done in about an hour.  Enjoy."

She moaned, sliding her fingers back to her cunt, to her clit, the feeling of the cage under her knees, under her arms and head, up against her thighs and hips as she shifted around, keeping her in a constant state of heat, the buzzing of the vibrators in her cunt and ass relentlessly pounded her insides, turning her body and mind into a soft, liquid gel that seemed to burn with pleasure.  Another hour, she thought, another hour locked in a cage like an animal, and she felt the pleasure begin to build up again deep in the pit of her stomach.

An hour later she lay panting in the cage, the aches and pains of being confined, on her hands and knees, settling over her, her last orgasm, her fifth since she had crawled into the cage, her cage, hers.  It had taken some time, some time to build up, some time for her to tease her overheated and overused flesh into more pleasure, the vibrators almost a distraction as she shifted around in her cage, feeling her bondage, her submission, her fingers squeezing her clit, ignoring the pain of overuse that radiated from her pleasure bud, rubbing it and teasing it, wanting so badly to cum again, her mind demanding it, demanding that the caged animal cum.  When it had finally hit she had rattled her cage, had writhed and bucked against it as her mind went blank except for the perfect ecstasy of her orgasm, her slender Asian body shaking sweat from it as it thrashed inside its cage. 

The sound of clapping made her turn her head up, and she blushed in shame as she saw Steve standing before her clapping, clearly having seen her cum, having seen her grunt and thrash like a greedy pig, pushing herself to an orgasm while locked in a cage.

"That was beautiful, slave.  Just like a beast, rutting in her cage."  He kneeled down and opened the cage door.  Standing, he quickly stripped his clothes off and said, "Now come, you sexy little animal, and show me how happy you are to have your very own cage."  With that he sat down on the couch, his eyes seeming to bore holes in her back, his cock hard against his leg.

Stephanie whimpered as she crawled out of the cage, her body aching from the movement after the forced confinement, the vibrators humming inside her cunt and ass relentless, almost numbing, making her groin ache as she crawled around her cage and genuflected before the feet of her Master.  He had called her an animal, a rutting animal, her mind fogged with pleasure and need; that's what she was, a needy pet, a thing, not yet a slave.  She wasn't good enough to be a slave, wasn't good enough to serve him as a human being--she could only be his beast, his pet, until she was worthy to wear his collar.  She shuddered at her own thoughts and slid her tongue across his feet, bathing them, caressing them, showing her Master how much she loved him and his gift for her.

His whole body tingled as she worked her way up his legs, his feet and toes still warm from her attentions, and he took a deep breath as her hair brushed against his calves, her head turned to the side so that her tongue could caress the inside of his knee.  His cock throbbed as he looked down at her, marveling at the way she had fallen into her role, how quickly she had taken to it, taken to being his slave.  She was such a sexy little piece of meat, such a beautiful, desirable thing, so lithe, so lean, and she was at his feet, pleasuring him, his cock throbbing as she made her way to his thigh, her face hidden by her hair.  It wasn't enough, though, he thought.  He wanted more, he wanted everything she had to give.  He wanted to own her completely, totally, knowing that she wasn't there yet, that there where things she still wouldn't do for him.  He growled deep in his throat as he thought of it, of how he was going to make her his, completely and irrevocably, her breath on his testicles turning the growl into a low moan. 

Her mind fogged as she knelt at his feet, her tongue, her lips, her hair, her cheeks and hands and arms and breasts all servicing him, using every part of her upper body to pleasure him, to make this man, her Master, happy with her submission.  Her slender body, exhausted and spent by her own need, by her own greedy lust, was filled with a low, pleasurable buzzing warmth as she rubbed herself across his feet and his calves and his thighs.  She was his slave, meant to please him, meant to be used by him, her body warming as her lips brushed against his testes, her breasts crushed against his legs.  She was going to take him into her mouth, going to use her tongue and her lips to pull his cum from him, and the mere thought made her body grow warmer.

He groaned when her mouth, warm and soft and greedy, engulfed his cock, the feeling so good after having denied himself for so long.  As she worked on him, he knew that, had he not been so excited, she would, for all her enthusiasm, have trouble making him cum with her mouth without his active participation, and he smiled even as she rolled those sexy eyes up toward him, looking at him for approval, knowing that it didn't matter, that he could train her, teach her, teach his slutty little beast-girl how to suck him, how to take him until she gagged, his cock down her throat, and her tongue lapped at his balls.  He reached down and ran his hands through her hair, loving the way his cock looked as it slid between her sexy red lips.

Her jaw began to ache as she slid his cock across her tongue, her lips encircling it, sliding up and down across its smooth flesh.  It was a pleasant ache, an ache that showed her dedication, her willingness to do whatever was necessary to please him, an ache that warmed her and excited and and made her want to climb on top of him and mount him, his cock buried deep into her grasping, greedy cunt, pleasuring her, making her cum, again.  She felt his thighs tense under her hands, his cock pulse, and then the taste of him flooded her senses, his hands clenching against her head as he filled her mouth with his cum.

"Don't swallow," she heard, and shuddered at the command, keeping her lips tight around his cock as he finished inside her mouth, his cum bitter and harsh against her tongue.  She kept her lips pressed together as she slid him from her mouth, turning her eyes toward his, waiting for his next command.

"Crawl over to the kitchen and then let my cum drip out onto the floor.  I want to see you clean it up with your tongue, Stephanie, like a good dog.  Wait, though.  I want to get my video camera."  He quickly went to his room, grabbed his video camera, and focused on her as she knelt, waiting.  He waved his hand and watched her as she crawled past him, the camera focusing on her face, obscured by her hair, her lips tightly pressed together, then her hanging tits, and finally her ass, held high, her cunt swollen and red.  He followed her as she crawled to the kitchen, stopping beside the table, and lowered her head, his cum, mixed with her saliva, dripping from beneath her lips onto the tile.

"Look up at me, Stephanie, and lick your lips for the camera.  Good girl.  Good slut."

Her face burned with humiliation as she looked at Steve, at her Master, and licked her lips, the taste of his cum still heavy in her mouth.  It was so dirty, so nasty, what she was doing, what he wanted her to do, it was so good.

"What are you waiting for?  Clean it up, you nasty, greedy, slut."

Her breathing quickened as she leaned down, trying to keep her hair from falling into the puddle of saliva and cum, and put out her tongue, licking the floor as her Master commanded, her body trembling in lust, her still sore cunt seeming to burn with need.  She wanted him, she wanted him inside her so much, so much, the taste of him against her tongue, the feel of the cold tile and her body bent and prostrate as he video taped her degradation filling her with need.

Walking home that evening, a nine-inch gel dildo buried in her cunt, the soft, rubbery material feeling strangely intrusive with each step even as it reminded her that she was his, his slave, his pet, his to do with as he pleased.  She was to use it, he had said, after cumming over it, to practice deep-throating.  She was, he had said, to be able to take him to the root by the end of the next week.  She moaned under her breath as she thought of it, and she thought that she would do anything for him.