ORIENTATION

       "It's been two days and I've had no word from him.  I don't know what I am supposed to do.  Shouldn't I have heard from him by now?  Shouldn't I be getting him an advocate?"

       The two officers behind the desk looked me over.  One, a chubby man, blond with brown, unintelligent eyes, grinned at me.  It was a big, goofy grin.  The other man's uniform looked crisp and well attended.  His dark red hair and steely blue eyes looked familiar to me.  It was familiar in a deja vu sort of way, the way something you know you've never seen can seem familiar.  He spoke first.

       "You have any idea what he was arrested for?"  Something about him terrified me.  Something about him cowed me.  The blond guy was looking over my body like he would a succulent meal after a long fast, but any discomfort I felt originated in those blue eyes.

       "I imagine it has something to do with his writing," I said, not wanting to implicate my husband but also not wanting to seem deceitful.  I made a snap judgment to tell the truth.

       "You realize he may not have been charged with anything, yet.  We can keep him for a year before we hafta press charges."  The blond guy said to my breasts.

       "Yes.  I just wanted to find out if there is anything I can do."

       The two officers looked at each other immediately, meaningfully.  Goofy grin on his face, never taking his eyes off of my breasts, the blond guy, pressed an intercom button.  A man barking the word "yes" came through it.  It must have beeped on his end or something.

       The red head, the scary one, put his arm across the other's chest, stopping him from speaking.  He said, "Sergeant Murond.  I have a woman here inquiring about her recently arrested husband."

       "So?  I don't have time for this shit."

       "Sir, this is the sort of thing you usually make time for."

       "Right.  Right.  Bring her."

       The red haired officer walked out from behind the desk and tool my upper arm.  He was tall and lean, almost gangly but for some impressive shoulders.  He lead me down a hall, two toned, a darker red on the bottom and a muted pink on top.  It was the same color scheme in the office, where a portly man with huge, hairy hands sat behind a desk.  The red head placed me in a chair in front of the desk.

       The portly man said, "Check her for any contraband first, Detective Darns."  He said this to the red haired man. I thought, his name is Darns.  Remember that. 

       I made to stand but Darns pushed me back in the seat gently.  He kneeled before me and unbuttoned my blouse.  He pulled it down, behind my shoulders.  Then, gently, gently, he pulled each breast out of the bra so that it hung over, exposed and lifted.  I sat in a rictus of fear and confusion.  Any reaction at this point could be the wrong move and the knowledge of this rendered me immobile.  Darns stood aside and Murond spoke.

       "Good.  I'll need you to remain this way as we have our little discussion.  It's for your safety, really."

       I clearly wasn't meant to believe this lie.  I sat wishing my breasts were smaller, knowing what a spectacle they were.  I took a deep breath.  I had expected this.  Not exactly this.  But I had expected they might offer some sexual trade.  And I had decided that this was a fair one.  I would have sex with them if it came to that.

       The door behind me opened and the blond man entered, handing a folder to Murond.  Murond opened it a read through it as I sat with my large breasts getting cold, my nipples hardening.  "Subversive literature.  That is what he was arrested for.  He's not been charged yet.  Interrogations have not yet begun."

       "Yes, sir," I said, still paralyzed, afraid even to ask the question I'd come to ask.

       He stood with the folder in his hand, circled his desk and sat on it right in front of me.  He lightly flicked my nipples with the edge of the folder and I squirmed, immediately regretting having done it. 

       "The interrogations don't have to be difficult for him.  We could break him completely or just ask a few questions.  The discretion is entirely ours."  The folder edge kept moving over my nipples, it was maddening.

       "Yes, sir."  I forced myself to look in his eyes.  I forced myself to say, "I intend to be very cooperative."  The Sergeant and Darns exchanged a look and a derisive laugh.

       The Sergeant said, "The cooperation we want from you...it probably goes much further than what you are imagining right now."  He smirked as he spoke, like he knew a secret joke.  "But first, let me make one thing very clear.  Interrogations can be intense.  Accidental deaths are fairly common and all authority is understanding when that happens.  You know, if a few die to protect the peace, even if they're innocent, it's the greater good of society that we ultimately care about."

       He never stopped moving the edge of that folder over my nipples.  They were protruding out, now.  At attention.  "I see," I said.  My heart was sinking.

       "I'm not even convinced that subversive literature is something we need to be worried about.  Not to be doing the sort of interrogations we do, where death is such a common happenstance.  The morale of the police force.  Now, that is something I find much more important.  Life is about trade offs.  It's about compromise.  You  need to offer something for our morale, that would make it worth my while to ensure your husband survives this next year."

       Dread and certainty washed over me in hot waves.  He's saying that he will kill my husband.  And I've already offered my body.  Why, then, the need to leverage my husband's life?  "Of course, sir.  Anything to help our men in green."  I blinked and felt a tear fall down my cheek.

       "The whole year, at any time, he could die.  We have a whole year to interrogate."

       "I understand, sir.  A whole year."  I felt another tear drop.  My nose was filling and I sniffled.

       "So, just to be perfectly clear, you are offering yourself for a year in exchange for your husband's life.  You can back out of the deal at any moment if you feel the life of this man is not worth it.  And you will.  You will want to back out and run away many times.  But, remember that a man's life is at stake."  This whole thing was moving so fast, but this man was so comfortable with his speed.  It was as though he did this every day.

       "Yes.  I don't think I'll forget that."

       "Do you have a job?"  He took a pair of scissors from his desk.

       "I'm a math teacher."

       "Not any more.  You'll start work here tomorrow."  Darns sat at the desk and took a pen.  Murond kneeled in front of me and spread my legs apart as far as they would go, pushing my skirt all the way up .  The third man stood behind me and held my arms back.  "Don't contact the school.  We will let them know you are needed here."  He cut the crotch of my panties in half and pulled my pelvis to the end of the chair.

       Darns said, "Tell me your full name."

       I could hear how erratic my breathing had become.  "Danny...I mean...Daniel Havershad."  Darns wrote it down.

       Murond pushed a finger inside me.  "You will answer to the name Cunt when you are here.  Cunt or Tits or Ass or Mouth.  These are your names.  It's almost always Cunt.  Just get used to Cunt.  The pussy is wet.  This bodes well for you.  Cunt knows its place.  It prepares itself for use and service.  That is a lesson we may be able to skip."

       "Identity number?"  Darns waited, pencil poised.

       I could feel myself quivering.  "7653832."

       Murond pushed his finger into my anus.  This was a sensation I had only felt alone, defecating.  It was a complete invasion to be forced to feel this in front of complete strangers.  "Oooh, too tight.  We'll need to work on this."  His thumb wormed into my vagina.  He was holding me like a six-pack while he leaned over and began sucking my nipple.  My vagina throbbed and engorged and pulsed.  The worst rape of it was that my body responded.  I hated it, despised it and needed it to continue.  

       Murond stood, unzipped his pants and took out his penis.  The bald man pulled me upright.  Without using his hands, he slapped my face with his penis.  He poked my breast with it.  "I'm just getting you acquainted with your new boss.  He wants to suss you out."  Darns laughed, watching.  I felt myself redden.  He poked it in my eye.  "Got to check your sight."  Both other men laughed at that.   His voice changed.  It became commanding and dominating.  "Okay now suck it."  I went for it hungrily, desperate to please.

       I moved my whole head back and forth, his penis deep in my throat as he spoke the whole time.  "Yes, that's good.  Get it all the way in there.  Suck it like the little suckling piggy you are.  No, no, keep your legs spread.  Nice and wide.  No, keep going, you can gag but don't let it stop you sucking on your teat for your milk, yeah you want your milk, don't you you little piggy, piggy whore cunt, yeah suck with all you've got....."  He convulsed, grabbed the back of my head and held it has he came in my mouth, right down the back of my throat.

       From behind me, "You should have shot it on her tits, made her go home with it on her."

       "Aaaaauuuuuhhhhh.  Shut your fucking mouth when I'm coming, Boon."  In the back of my mind, I thought,  That's his name.  It's Boon.  Now I know.  "Why don't you come on her tits, you gotta sit there like a dumb fuck and critique my orgasm.  Know what, you don't get to fuck her today.  That's what you get for being a dumb ass.  Get out of here."  Boon released my arms and left, wordlessly.  "Darns, have a go."

       Darns stood and removed his clothes.  He stood me up and undressed me, as well.  He was all efficiency and purpose.  Both of us naked, he lay down on the floor, on his back, his huge, erect penis resting on his stomach.  "Ride it," was all he said.

       I straddled him, guiding his penis inside me.  I rode it slowly, up and down, my hands on his chest.  "Grab your tits and bounce them around.  Yeah, that's good.  Slap them together, like you're clapping.  Yes, like that."  I felt obscene.  "Turn around.  Other direction."  I faced the other way, keeping him inside me the whole time, afraid not to.  "Good, now fuck me and suck my toe."  He bent his knees to bring he feet to me.  A whimper of humiliation escaped me as I complied.

       I felt a finger invade my anus.  "Now put your tits between my feet."  But I didn't have to do anything.  He bent his knees further and squeezed my breasts between his feet.  It forced me to move my legs back and lose some leverage but he held me in place with one hand pushing on my buttock with a finger in my ass, the other hand holding my thigh and pulling it back.  I was pinned down and could now only manage to writhe.  He suddenly threw me off him.  "This isn't working.  Fuck my toe."  I gasped and looked at him beseechingly.  "You heard me.  Put my toe inside your cunt."

       I did as best I could but he wasn't satisfied.  "No, I want to see.  Lean back and spread your pussy."  I leaned back on one arm, legs spread on my knees and spread my labia apart.  He stuck his big toe inside, moved it in and out, stuck it in and moved it around.  I squeezed my eyes shut and he immediately barked, "No!  You watch."  I looked down at his foot, visible but for the toe vanished inside me.  He was masturbating his penis.  "Grind on it."  And I did, hoping he would orgasm soon, before the next idea hit him.

       He suddenly reached his arm far behind him and grabbed his sock.  He jammed it inside me with two fingers, toe end first.  He kept ramming it in until the whole foot part was inside, as I moaned pleadingly.  "Okay, now suck me, keep your pussy over my head and put your finger in my ass."  I moved to the 69 position, one arm under his leg to insert my finger in his anus.  I sucked him harder than I had Murond, desperate for him to finish.  My nipples were rubbing on his stomach and his fingers were again pushing into my ass, two this time, pulling it open.  My moans and pleas muffled by his cock, I tried to rub his balls, beg for mercy that way.  He came as I did, grabbing my thighs and digging his fingers into them deeply and painfully.  Then he threw me over like so much trash.

       Darns dressed.  His clothes on, he looked around a bit confused, then suddenly remembered what he'd done with his sock.  "Oh, right," he said, pulling it out of my vagina. 

       After a few moments, Morund said, "Leave us, Darns."  When he was gone, "Kneel next to my desk, right here next to me and lay your tits on it."  I did this, feeling my brow furrow.  I thought it was over.  It guess it was, sort of.  He worked on papers and on his computer.  Occasionally, deep in thought about who knows what, he would play with my breasts, tweak my nipples, lift them up and let them drop.  Like it was helping him think.  He didn't seem to enjoy doing it at all.  I did what I could to stifle my whimpers. 

       After a couple of hours, he told me to get dressed and return the next day at 8am.  He handed me a sheath of papers and told me to familiarize myself with the instructions they contained.  He made special note of a store I would have to visit, to outfit myself.

       When I walked out, every man stopped what he was doing to appraise me.  The one man I did not want to see was Darns so, of course, I immediately made eye contact with him without meaning to.  He looked deep in thought, composed, together.  I knew I didn't .  I felt abject shame.  I expected him to feel that way, too.  Don't people with sick desires feel shame after climax?  No.  Not him.  He held my gaze with strength and command.  I couldn't look away.  I felt myself stop walking.  As he looked at me, I felt his stare was telling me something.  And some part of me I couldn't get to was listening.

       Another officer came behind me and lifted my skirt.  Darns looked down at his desk.  A hand rubbed my ass then fingered my pussy roughly.  "Not ready to go, yet?  You want some more?  I can give you some more."

       "Bud, leave it."

       It came from Darns, who didn't look up from the paper on his desk to say it.  The man behind me left and I walked out as quickly as I could.

       Once I was out the door, I could hear a sudden, muffled explosion of conversation.  I wanted to wet myself from fear.  I only wanted to go home but I had to go to this store, first.

       It was a sex store, of course.  There were a couple of men browsing the pornography aisles.  A skinny, greasy looking kid was behind the counter.  He looked like he could be sixteen but he would have to be at least eighteen to work this job legally.  He could be eighteen but no older.  I went to him and he looked at me questioningly.  "I was sent here by Captain Murond.  I don't know what I'm meant to get."

       A calm look, almost pitying, almost wise took over his face.  For a second I thought he could be eighty, just going by that look.  The term 'old soul' popped into my head.  He pressed a button next to him and spoke in a voice that was transmitted loudly over speakers in the store.  "Gentleman, we need to close the store early.  I'm sorry for the inconvenience.  I have a coupon at the front desk with my apologies but I'm afraid you must leave immediately."

       The men scurried to the desk, collected their coupons and left.  They looked unsurprised.  From their reaction, they could have been waiting around, browsing the porno, just to get their coupons.  The boy locked the door behind them.  Suddenly dark panels descended over the windows, leaving the store dimly lit.

       He stood in front of me and slowly unbuttoned my blouse.  As he did this, he softly said, "I'm sorry.  I have to do these things to you.  They have cameras in here.  They're watching."  He reached behind me and unclasped my bra faster than I've ever been able to.  He slid it off, my breasts hung, exposes again.  He softly cupped and lifted them.  He reached around again and released my skirt to fall to the floor. 

       Producing a small measuring tape from his pocket, he took my measurements.  They were like no other measurements I've ever had taken.  He measured the circumference of my neck, wrists, upper arms.  My ankles, above my knees.  He ran it from the small of my back, through my crotch and to my belly button.  He saw that this made the tape moist and he said, "I know this embarrasses you.  It's better this way, though.  They give you injections, otherwise.  And there are side effects.  They are worse for the women.  You don't want to know.  It's better this way."

       I had to be ten years older than him but I felt twenty years his junior.  He took my hand and led me to a back room.  There was a gynecological chair.  He had me sit in it and he strapped me down, my legs secured in the stirrups, my waist secured to the chair.  Last, he shackled my hands to a ring just above my head. 

       He turned on what looked like a crock pot in the corner then sat between my legs, pushing them as far apart as he could then securing the stirrups so they were immobilized in this splayed form.  There were various odd sound as I stared at the ceiling when something cold and wet pushed into my anus.  "Relax.  You have to relax for this.  We have to stretch this.  This will make it less painful for you when they fuck it, which they will."  I tried to relax but I'd never tried to relax that muscle.  It didn't seem possible. 

       He came to stand next to me.  I felt more pressure on my anus.  That thing in it was getting bigger!  The pain got steadily worse until I felt I couldn't stand it anymore and, somehow, it magically stopped.  I moaned, pleading moans.  I wanted to say, please, take it out.  I only managed, "Please" before he put his hand on my mouth.  I felt his mouth on my nipples, the warm, wet, invading pleasure of it.  His hand on my pussy, tickling my clitoris.  I felt the pain and the pleasure, both forced on me, helpless to stop any of it.  I could hear the sounds coming from my mouth but was unaware of making them.  The building orgasm slowly overtook the pain in my ass until it exploded in an electrifying force through every cell in my body.  I could hear the screams, just that one word, that one word that summed up everything I felt and feared and wanted and couldn't take.  Please, please, please, please, please. 

       He didn't stop licking my nipples or playing with my little bump, so sensitive now that my whole body shuddered at his touch.  When I finally came out of the haze of it, I could feel his firm manhood on the side of my body.  He gave no other indication of his arousal.  He cleaned me up and went to the crock pot.  It was wax.  He removed my pubic hair.  The sharp pain of it was a relief against the now constant, uncomfortable ache of my anus.  Done, he massaged some sort of oil into the skin, now so naked, so impossibly exposed. 

       "Try to relax.  It's almost over.  I just need to put together a couple of suitcases for you.  I'll be back in a moment."  And he left me there.  I tried to squirm a bit to relieve the discomfort but any little movement only made it worse.  I lay my head back and thought of my husband, of his life, how this and so much more was worth his future existence.

       The boy immediately deflated that thing upon his return and removed it from me.  I let out a loud, voiced sigh.  The boy was naked, still quite erect.  He had welts and rope burns all over his body.  It hadn't occurred to me before but his nudity revealed that he and I were in the same predicament.  No wonder he was so gentle.

       "Okay, you have to have anal sex with me, now.  Do you want me to do it or do you want me to let you do it?  I can just lay on the floor and let you take your time with it or I can get it done.  I can do it quick or slow.  We can do it however you want it but we have to do it."

       I thought for a moment.  He was such a sweet kid.  If it were Murond or Darns, I'd have chosen the former option.  Though I'd not be given an option, to be sure.  With this boy, I felt safe to take my time, do it myself, minimize the pain.  I said, "I'd like to do it, thank you."

       He released me and lay on the floor with a tube of lubricant, applying it generously to his penis.   

       I straddled him, grabbing his shaft and guiding it into my anus, stretched and sore.  Once I had the head inside, I let go and paused.  "You have to get the whole thing inside.  Take your time but it has to go in all the way."  I nodded, slowly lowered myself on it, stopping, then easing myself down until I was fully sitting.  "There you go.  That's very good.  It'll get better.  You have to ride it now.  That's good.  Look at those beautiful tits.  So lovely.  That's good.  Up and down.  You're doing so well.  Okay, that's good.  You've done very well.  You can stop."

       "Don't you want to finish?  I want you to finish."  I kept rising and lowering, softly touching his horrible welts.  He had been in such power over me, had treated my with only humanity, I wanted to give him something.  I said it again, "I want you to."  He grabbed my breasts, kneading them, something like a worried expression on his face.

       "Oh, god, you're so hot."  He seized, a pained look on his face and I felt him shoot into me.  "Thank you.  Oh god, thank you so much," he said, melting into the floor as I pulled myself off.

       He sent me home with my suitcases.  He said, "You'll return for further waxing, or any other treatments they may choose for you.  I can answer any questions you have.  You'll be fine.  Just follow orders.  It's only a year."  There was such sorrow when he said the last sentence, I wondered if perhaps, his time line was quite different from mine.

DIGNITY

       I woke the next morning to a feeling a dread and fear.  I'm normally long to wake in the morning but the anticipation of the day brought me to a fully wakeful state almost immediately.  I made myself coffee anyway, habits being what they are. 

       I had two hours before I had to leave.  Sipping my coffee, I reread the instructions.  I had done so the previous night, in the bath, but I feared having missed something.  I needed a refresher.  Bad as it was, I didn't want to know what a punishment would entail. 

       The rules were fairly simple.  Thick as the stack of papers were, most of it was a reiteration of my basic place in the world for the next year.  Over and over, the writing went on about who I was.  "You are a toy.  You are an object.  You exist for the pleasure of others.  Your desire is irrelevant.  Your wants and needs are irrelevant.  You are owned.  You are a possession.  Your thoughts are as important as those of our pencils..."  I had to read every word of this to get to the basic instructions embedded within at random intervals.  Which was why I felt the need to read it again.  It would have been easy to miss one.

       I was not to wear panties.  Ever.  I was only to wear what had been given to me.  I was to follow the orders of anybody who displayed a badge.  Should I meet a police person away from the station, one displaying a badge, I was to immediately identify my position to them by saying, "Thank you for your service to the community.  If there's anything I can do to repay you, just ask."  I was to be clean every day.  I was to fix my hair every day, keep my nails painted.  My duties would be janitorial, I was to clean all day when not servicing one of my many new masters.  There were three different floors to the station and I was to keep to a different one every day, rotating each of three days. I was to visit the sex shop once a month for a waxing. 

       Nothing new.  I supposed I had caught it all.  While it was on my mind, I marked the one month interval on my calender and prepared for my day.

       The outfits were loose, flowing dresses, almost floor length.  I had a set of new bras.  They only served to push my breasts up, so they protruded straight from my chest, covering nothing.  This left the dress to gently rub against my nipples and I shuddered at the thought of feeling this all day.  Fully dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror.  My hair was a coif, my face fully painted, and yet the dress could only be described as dowdy.  I looked ridiculous.

       On the bus ride to the station, I felt everybody must be staring at me but couldn't lift my eyes to confirm this.  And that horrible excitement, in spite of myself, betraying myself, that offensive need of mine stared at me unwaveringly.  I felt a moment of relief stepping off the bus, squashed by the realization that I was now standing before the station.  I stood, transfixed, fighting the urge to turn and run, go into hiding, maybe they wouldn't do anything to my husband after all.  They hadn't seemed to want to.  They hadn't seemed interested.  No.  No.  If he died, it would be my fault alone.  And they just might kill him from spite.

       I felt a hand on my bottom.  "You're early.  Good girl.  Let's go in."  It was Darns.  Had he been waiting outside for my arrival?  The hand pushed my buttocks forward and I walked with him into the station.  His hand on my ass, I thought of all the squats I'd done.  The lunges.  The one legged knee bends.  All to keep my ass firm and tight.  I thought of all the times I considered myself so much better than all those wives I'd watched let themselves go, get flabby and gain weight.  Now I could only envy them.

       He guided me, wordlessly, to a back room.  It was large, full of chairs all facing a podium.  A meeting area.  This was probably where they got their morning assignments.  Darns closed the door behind us.  He lifted my dress and ran his finger between my labia.  "You're so wet.  I couldn't sleep last night, thinking of all the things I'm going to do to you."  He grabbed my breast over the dress.  "You are in so much trouble, little girl.  You're going to regret ever marrying that sissy fucking writer.  You're gonna wish you'd married a real man.  A cop.  A protector.  I'm gonna make you beg.  You're going to beg for me."  At this point, my whole body was trembling.  The door opened and Murond walked in.

       "Having a little chat?" he asked, offhandedly.

       "Yes, sir," Darns said and grabbed a chair, putting it next to the podium.

       Then Murond,  making minor preparations on the podium, dashed my one, last, little hope, that I wouldn't be alone with Darns too often.  "Darns here is my best officer.  He requested that he be allowed to do your training and I was more than happy to oblige.  He's a real treasure here.  We're lucky to have him."

       Darns pulled the dress up over my head.  He didn't remove it from my neck, he draped it over my head, covering my face and sat me down.  I felt my legs being pushed apart.  I grabbed the sides of the seat. 

       I could hear people filing in, random snatches of conversation in the din as a slew of unknown hands fondled me and groped me.

       "Nice tits on this one."

       "...he said he only had a couple of drinks.  It's always a couple..."

       "I don't know where I left it.  I hate to have to requisition..."

       "You think they'll give this one piercings?  I love it when they're pierced."

       "You see the new commissioner, yet?  He was a national hero, a copper himself.  That's how it should always be...fucking elite scumbags don't know how to run a force."

       "That's for damned sure."

       "You know me, I rather prefer the tiny titties..."

       Murond's voice broke through.  "Okay, settle down.  Get seated.  We've got a lot to go through today.  As you can see, we've got a brand new cunt for the station."  Clapping and hooting.  "Yes, yes, settle down.  You'll get your chance.  I know you were worried we wouldn't have one in time for the ball but Darns here found a sketchy little author married to a nice, firm ass.  We all owe him a debt of gratitude."  More clapping.  "He'll be doing her training.  For the next couple of days, you'll need his permission.  Then she'll be public property.  She's responsive, too.  Nice and wet.  I think you'll all enjoy this one.

       "Also, I'm sure you've all heard that we have a new commissioner.  We got a PR note that he'll be visiting each station personally.  He was the man who found the rebel hideout.  It's because of him that our citizens no longer live in fear of terrorist attacks.  We'll need to go out of our way to show him great respect when he gets here.

       "Today's focus is on the graffiti kids.  I want you to keep an eye out for whomever has been defacing public property of late.  Talk to the people who work out in the open.  Street vendors, curbside whores, bums...anybody who might have seen anything.

       "Okay, get out of here.  And be safe.  Dismissed."

       The din rose again.  I heard more snatches of conversation.  Rustling.  Somebody pinched my nipple.  Some laughter.  Eventually, quiet.  I could hear one person breathing.  I knew it must be Darns.  I don't know how long I sat there, listening to his slow, deep respiration.

       So sudden it made me jump a little, he commanded, "Say, 'please fuck me.'"

       "Please fuck me."

       "Do you want it?"  I thought for a moment.  I did.  I didn't want to but I did.  It would be best not to hide this fact.

       "Yes.  I want it."

       "Tell me how much you want it."

       I couldn't have felt more grateful to have my face covered.  I could just say it, anonymously.  Well, pretend anonymously.  "I want it so bad.  I need it.  I'm so wet.  I want you to use me.  I want to feel you inside me."  I couldn't help but think of the instructions, how my wants are supposed to be irrelevant. 

       My words are answered with more silence.  Then he pulled the dress back over me, grabbed my wrist and abruptly pulled me behind him.  He led me to the bathroom, in a serious hurry.  Inside, he opened a small closet, took out a sign that said, "Closed for cleaning".  He hung it on the outside of the door and locked us inside.  He grabbed my dress and pulled it over my head, barely giving me enough time to lift my arms up so that it could slide off. 

       "Now," he walked to the end of the room and stood between two urinals.  The floor was tiled, two slight indentations with drains in the center.  There was a line of toilet stalls opposite a line of sinks.  "Go into the closet and bring me all the cleaning equipment you think might be needed to get this bathroom spotless."

       I found a broom and a mop.  I brought them to him and leaned them against the wall next to him.  I returned and found a caddy with cleaning products, a toilet brush and a scrub brush.  I lay that at his feet.  I found some window cleaner for the mirrors, some newspaper to use with the cleaner, a bucket.  I brought that to him.  He looked at me stonily.  There must be more, I thought.  I returned to the closet and looked around desperately.  A toilet plunger.  Maybe?  I brought it to him.  Still a stony look.  I returned, dug through the place frantically.  Nothing.  Extra rolls of toilet paper and napkins.  Hand soap.  A funnel.  What could you possibly need a funnel for in a utility closet for the bathroom?  I felt the blood drain from my face.  I stared at it for a moment then brought it to him.  The smile on his face let me know I was correct to bring it.         "Sit with your back, here, against the wall."  I lay against the wall, my shoulders propped against it.  He grabbed under my knees and pushed them back toward my shoulders.  "Take them.  Hold them there.  Now, look.  You are too quiet.  Talk."  I didn't know what to say.  He grabbed the toilet brush and then I did know what to say.

       "Please, don't.  Whatever you're going to do.  Please, I'll do anything."

       "I know you'll do anything.  That's true, regardless.  There's nothing you can offer me that you don't have to give me, anyway."  He presses the brush against my pussy.  "Talk to me."

       "Oh, god.  It's so gross.  Please, take it off."  He began slapping my pussy with the brush.  "Ow.  Please, no."  He rubbed it over my breasts, smacked my pussy a few times, ran it over my nipples roughly.  "Oh, please, please.  It's so dirty."  Then I remembered the word he'd used in the meeting room.  "I beg you.  I beeeeeg you."

       "You're dirty.  You are a dirty little whore.  You think you're better than a toilet brush?"  He ran it over my pussy, back and forth.  I could only whimper.  "The toilet brush should be the one disgusted at having to touch that pussy."  He held it in front of my face.  "Apologize to the brush.  Say you're sorry it had to touch you."

       "I'm sorry you had to touch me." 

       "Why?"

       "Because I'm a dirty little whore."

       "Kiss it.  Lick it."        

       "Please."

       "DO IT!"

       And I did.  I kissed it and licked it.  I felt a trickle run down over my asshole.  I wanted to die.

       He turned it around and shoved the handle into me until it met with resistance.  "Take the hand brush and the powder and clean every toilet.  Make sure you get down into the water, get every spot.  And that toilet brush better stay in your pussy.  You feel it sliding out, you push it back in, got it?  Move on your hands and knees from now on."

       He removed his pants.  As I worked, he stood behind me stroking his penis.  Sometimes, I had to push the brush back inside me, sometimes I felt him doing it with his foot.  By the time I had finished the last toilet, I was glistening with sweat. 

       Before I could turn to him, he grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me down, my face was next to the tank and my breasts were hanging in the bowl.  My nipples were just touching the cold water inside.  "Reach around and spread your ass."  I did.  His finger entered my anus and retreated.  Something else went in.  Lube shot inside me and, as he pulled it out, it shot on the outside, too.  I felt him rub his shaft up and down my anus before he pushed inside me.  He went slowly and I was thankful, though it still hurt.  "You're ass is sooo tight."  He pushed all the way inside and kept pressing, like he thought he could get it in further.  "I want you to feel it in your throat."  He was in to the hilt, circling his pelvis.  I was moaning uncontrollably, in pain but feeling I could almost orgasm.  He reached down and rammed the brush inside me a few times before removing it.  He dipped it in the toilet, still full of cleaner, and rubbed it all over my back.  He stuck it in the bowl and rubbed it over my breasts.  I was making noises I'd never made or heard anyone else make.  He spoke uninterrupted without finishing a thought or a sentence as he rammed my ass hard.  "Yeah, you like you fucking dirty it gets you cuz your dirty fucking tit a big cock in your...."  I could vaguely hear laughter outside and realized how loud my crazy noises were.

       Then he came, shooting inside me, gripping my next so hard I thought he might choke me to death.  He stayed inside me as he went flaccid.  "Mmmm.  Mmm.  Mmmmmmmm.  You're ass is full of lube and cum and shit, now.  You're going to sit on the toilet and shit it out so I can see."

       He pulled out and I reached up to pull the lid down.  He sat on the floor and put his head near the bowl as I evacuated the various fluids.  "That's so disgusting.  Oh my lord, you are dripping from you little cooter, there.  It's dripping into the bowl."  I had wanted him in my pussy but he had left it unused and neglected.  Now he was remarking on how hungry and unfed it was.  I was so humiliated, my eyes were clenched shut.  My breathing was quick and erratic as my eyes welled with tears.  "Look.  You're crying.  And we're not even close to being done, here.  You better pull yourself together, cunt." 

       And I did.  Somehow, I put myself together, shut the tears off.  I could feel the cleansing powder tighten on my body as the water dried from it.  He took some paper from the roll and cleaned my anus for me.  He pinched both my nipples and brought me to standing by pulling them up.  He had me lick his asshole on my knees while he cleaned his penis in the sink.  I was eager about it, licking vigorously, sticking my tongue inside, trying my best to ingratiate myself to him.

       Then he filled the bucket with water and threw the water all over the floor.  He did this until it was covered, the excess flowing down the drain.  He sprayed the floor with cleaner and grabbed the mop.  I went to take it but he said, "No.  Get on your hands and knees, put your chest on the floor.  There you go.  You're the mop, today."  He put the mop handle into my vagina.  He pushed me around the floor this way.  "Clean it.  Get it clean."  I didn't know what he wanted me to do.  I frantically rubbed the floor with my hands, feeling the grouting between the tiles rub and torture my now tender breasts as he pushed the handle cruelly into my vagina.  It was so slippery, it was difficult to just keep myself in the correct position.  I grunted with every shove from the handle.  He knocked my head into the wall a few times which made him laugh in a satisfied sort of way.  When we'd covered the floor a couple of times over, he removed the handle and kicked me so I was on my back.  Then he rinsed me and the floor together with buckets full of water. 

       I thought, the urinals are all that's really left.  The sinks won't be too bad.  They couldn't be.  Then I had a horrible thought.  This is only one room.  Followed by an even worse thought.  I'm his for two days.

       I was right about the sinks.  He just had me clean them as he watched.  The urinals weren't as bad as I expected.  He put the handle of the hand brush in my ass and had me use my ass to clean them.  It didn't get them clean by any stretch of the imagination but he didn't seem to mind that.  I felt such relief I wanted to cry again but I had forgotten something. 

       The funnel. 

       He picked it up and said, "I have to pee, now."  I was quivering as he handed me the funnel.  "Lie on your back, put this in your pussy and grab your knees.  Pull it back until the funnel is straight up."  I did.  I lay there for what seemed forever.  I was waiting to receive his urine.  He wanted me to wait to receive it.  He finally kneeled at my ass and directed his penis into the funnel.  And he urinated.  I could feel the warm of it running into me, filling me, filling the funnel and coming out of my from around it.  It ran down my pelvis and my ass.  Then he stood over me, staring, stroking himself until almost all of it had seeped out of the side of the funnel, out of my vagina. 

       He lay me flat on my back, cleaned me with the toilet brush after, rinsed me with a bucket of water and put the toilet brush handle back in my pussy.  He began walking around me in circles. 

       "This lesson was your first and most important.  It was your dignity lesson.  You are to have no dignity.  If we ever start thinking you feel dignity, you will get more dignity lessons.  You will get worse dignity lessons.  Your dignity lesson is not quite over.  Many out there have been waiting to use the bathroom.  They will now be let in to do so.  One at a time.  And you will assist each one according to his requests.  I'll be here the whole time to watch."  He removed the brush and stood me up.

       And, one by one, they came in.  I spent the next hour wiping asses, licking asses as men urinated, straddling men so they could suck and bite my breasts as they defecated.  I washed their hands for them.  And the lesson was quite learned.  I felt so debased, I could not possibly ever think there was something I deserved. 

       When it was over, he asked me what I thought and I told him I thought I had learned the lesson.

       "Why do you say that?"

       "When you had me lick your ass, I felt grateful.  I was worthless to you and meaningless and you could have easily had me clean your penis with my mouth.  And I was so thankful that this didn't happen to be your whim.  Because your whim is what commands me.  I fear it.  I am at its mercy.  It's all that matters and I will do anything to please it."

       "Are you trying to ingratiate yourself to me?  You think you can manipulate me into feeling sorry for you?"  There was anger in his voice. 

       "No, sir."  I felt my heart race.

       "I will never pity you."  I couldn't breathe.  This was not the reaction I was expecting.

       "I recognize that, sir."  I felt nauseated.

       "Then what are you saying?"  I wanted to run as fast as I could.

       "I think I am saying...I am telling you that...I fear you the most.  When I serviced those other men, it was for you.  I feel like you are my owner.  I know you aren't.  I know you won't really have this power over me much longer.  You won't have me to yourself.  But I will still feel like you do, I think.  I even felt that yesterday, with the commander.  I don't know what that means.  I don't know why I'm saying it.  There's something about you.  I just..."

       He suddenly grabbed my breast, wrapped his other arm around my back, pulled me close and kissed my mouth, sticking his tongue down my throat, pinching my nipple hard and pulling it. 

       "You do belong to me.  You are not to tell anybody else this.  It will be our understanding that you truly, in your heart, belong to me.  I will give you special assignments to have you demonstrate this to me but this must also be our secret.  What about your husband?  How do you feel about him?"

       "I'm afraid to say."

       "Look, we don't care about gay.  We only use that to arrest people we want to arrest...for other reasons.  Hell, Murond is gay.  He'll only really ever get blow jobs from you.  He's pretending you are a guy."

       "Oh..."

       "Yeah, why the comment about cumming on your tits pissed him off.  I think Murond assumes everybody knows but, honestly, some of the people here are very slow on the uptake."

       "Yes, my husband is gay.  He is my best friend in the whole world but I do not love him.  Not like that."

       "Do you think you could come to love me.  I am a cruel man but I want you to love me as well as fear me.  Do you think you could?"

       "I don't know."

       "But you will serve me as your one true master?"

       "Yes."  I felt his fingers pinch hard on my nipple.  I let out a gasp.  "Yes, sir."

       "Good.  We'll do that.  We'll see how it goes."  I told myself I was lying to bring ease to my situation but, somewhere in me I knew I spoke the truth.  "Leave the door to your apartment unlocked at all times.  Even in the day when you are gone.  This is the first thing you will do for me."        

       "Yes, sir."

       "Good.  I'll take you to the break area where you can rest a bit before your next lesson."

       I put the dress back on.  I felt it rub my nipples even more, now that they were sore from the pinching and biting.  I was reeling at what had just happened, at what I had just said to Darns, at the hell I'd probably just opened up for myself.  In the break room, I drank a cup of tea with Darns sitting across from me.  A couple of officers came in and sat at either side of me.  Occasionally, one would feign the need to reach over to the other and run his arm across my breasts as he did so.  Darns watched with amusement.  One handed the other his drink and, in an obviously intentional accident, spilled some on my breast.  He apologized and took great time to clean it.  I sat stoicly as Darns' smile widened.  When they finally left, Darns said, "Time for your next lesson."

       Through the fear, I hoped that in this one at least, I'd be given some release.

       

       

       

PAIN

       After my break, Darns brought me to a different room.  It was an office like Murond's but it was bare.  It didn't look like it was in use by anybody.  Not only were there no office supplies, there were no little nesting trinkets: no plants, no photos, no decorations.  I stood in front of the desk and Darns went behind it, rummaging through drawers.

       He placed a whip on the desk.  It has a thick handle and what looked like hundreds of leather straps at the end.  My fear may have been exaggerating the number of straps but there were quite a lot.

       He placed a long chain on the desk.  It was a nest of chain with large, intimidating clamps ensconced in it. 

       "Choose," he said, still rummaging in the desk.  I didn't even have to think about it.

       "The whip."

       He looked at me, grinning, "Good choice.  The clamps are my favorite."  I almost corrected him before realizing what he had done.  It came out as, "No, I...oh."

       He lifted a blindfold and a gag.  Again, he said, "Choose."  He couldn't expect the same trick to work again.  If I chose the blindfold, it would be because I wanted the gag.  So I should say I wanted the gag.  But, he may know that I was working that angle.  If I said I wanted the blindfold, he could give me the blindfold just to mix it up.  I sagged, dejected.  There was no way to play this safely.  I just had to say one and hope I got the gag.  I wanted so badly to be able to see what was coming, to be able to brace myself.

       "The gag," I said. 

       "Blindfold it is," he said, throwing the gag in the drawer and closing it.  He opened another drawer and produced a hand full of cuffs.  After lifting my dress off of me, he cuffed my arms behind me in three places.  He first pulled my upper arms back and cuffed them together as closely as my bones would allow.  He did the same just above my elbows and again at my wrists.  My chest was pushed forward as though I was offering it for abuse. 

       He put the blinder on.  I could only just make out a little light from below.  He took his time putting each clamp on.  He pinched my right nipple, pulled it, stretched it out.  Then I felt the cold of the clamp.  As it bit down, I said, "Ow.  Ouch.  Sir, that really hurts."

       "Shhh."

       He did the same with the other.  "Mmmmmgh."  I kept my mouth shut tight.  I didn't think I could take the pain.  I wondered if my nipples were being mutilated.

       He put a clamp on each labia.  He did this quickly and I forgot myself.  I said, "Oh fuck!  Ouch!  Oh fucking hell!!!"

       I felt him standing next to me, pressing against me, "Shhhhhhh!"  The chain was tugging slightly from its weight. 

       I shut my mouth again, whimpering, hopping from one foot to another.  The chain grazed my stomach lightly.  Then he grabbed it and pulled it.  I tensed my legs, stood on my toes.  I was breathing hard through my teeth.

       "I bet that hurts like a motherfucker."

       "Yes, sir!" I said, louder than I meant to, loud like he was far away.

       "How long do you think you can stand it?" he asked.

       "I don't think I can.  Please, take it off, sir.  Please.  I beg you."

       "You what?"

       I felt a surge of hope.  I may have hit one the thing he wanted to hear.  "I beg you.  I beg you.  I implore you."        

       He dropped the chain.  I stood, writhing.  "You implore me?  That's nice.  Think of another word for me."

       "I....I....I beseech you."

       He pulled the chain again.  "Beseech!  I like that one.  Can you think of another?"  I moved toward him to lessen the pull but he only moved back.  This is how we ended up walking around the office together.  "Come now, think of another word.  Be a thesaurus for me."

       "Um, ow, um, ouch, um, uunh, I um, aaaaauuuuuunnnnn, I can't."

       He let go of the chain and slapped me hard across the face.  "You can't, what?"

       "I can't think of.......I can't, sir."

       "Come on, one more.  One more and I'll take them off."

       My mind raced but couldn't find any purchase.  Desperate, I said, "I humbly request you....deign to...do me this charity..."

       "No," he snapped.  It sounded more like 'new'.  "Not a sentence.  A synonym."

       "I'm sorry, sir.  I can't think of any, sir.  Please, sir."

       "On your knees."  I dropped immediately.  I heard a zipper, rustling fabric.  A penis entered my mouth.  I sucked it, moving my whole body back and forth, from both agony and the pressing need to please.  I was moaning in pain as I sucked him.  Pleading, desperate, entreating moans.  Entreat.  That was a word.  I had to finish him off first, though.  I put everything I had into it but it still seemed to take forever.  It truly felt like the clamps were doing permanent damage.  When he finally came, I swallowed and shot upright on my knees, head back, shouting into the air.

       "Entreat!  I entreat you!"

       "Good.  I have a little surprise for you.  Watch what happens when I take it off..."  He released a clamp and I felt a surge of harsh pain as the blood rushed back.  He slapped the nipple, over and over again, making me feel every moment more intensely.  "Didn't expect that, did you?  And you've got three more."

       With each one, he toyed with it as it recovered in searing agony.  I stood, arms behind me, blindfolded, knowing he wasn't near done.  My nipples and labia ached and throbbed.  "I bet these orbs have gotten you a lot of favors in your life."  I felt something sharp poke into the nub of my nipple.  "I bet they've gotten a lot of men to do nice things for you."  Another and another.  My mouth opened in a silent scream.  I felt my pussy throb.  "These little protuberances.  I bet a lot of men have done things for you, hoping they could touch them."  He was going quickly, poking all over the nipple,  moving to the other and then back again.  I was sticking my ass out and pitching forward.  Then it suddenly stopped.  I swayed, moving my pelvis in circles, fear and need pulling me in opposite directions.

       Something thin and stinging hit my nipple.  I cried out.  It hit the other.  I cried out again.  He spoke, "You will be punished for every time another man thought about my tits.  And I think it happened quite a lot, don't you?"  Then the blows came with speed.  I spread my knees, dropping down and rising, bobbing up and down, trying to do something, anything, to deal with the pain.  Little panting moans were escaping me.  Why wouldn't he hurt something else?  Why did those two square inches of my body have to endure all of his anger?  Was it even anger?  Why would he focus all his cruelty on such a small area?

       He finally stopped.  He removed the blindfold.  I looked at my nipples as he removed the cuffs.  They were red.  I had expected them to be torn, just going by the pain I'd felt.  But, they didn't seem to have sustained any long term damage. 

       He pinched them, both at the same time.  "Are they sore?  Are they really sore, now?"

       "Yes, sir."

       "I don't think so.  Put your dress on and meet me in the break room again."  And he left. 

       I dressed and slowly opened the door, peeking out.  Nobody was around.  I dashed to the break room.  There were two other men there, besides Darns.  He brought me to them, lifted my dress, said, "What do you think?  Do they look sore enough to you?"

       The one man looked like a competitive weight lifter, he was so large.  He pinched both nipples hard and shook both my breasts vigorously as I screwed my face.  "No!  Not even close."  I was grimacing and pitching forward.  Darns removed my dress as this man did this.  The weight lifter said, "Here, look here, Cunt.  Grab your breast, lift em up."  He took his truncheon and held in in both hands, horizontal, right in front of my breasts.  "Get them so that both nipples are touching this at the same time.  Both nipples, straight ahead, touching this.  There you go.  That's how I want em.  Level.  A Zeplin race in dead heat.  Grab me that folder.  Thanks."

       The other officer handed him a hard backed folder as I molded my breasts to point the nipples level.  I wanted to be bound again.  I wanted to have no part in making any of this happen.  Of all that had happened so far, this felt the most violating, having to position my nipples exactly where he wanted them to be so that he could hurt them. 

       He closed the folder over my nipples.  I sucked in a breath and, holding it closed with one hand, he hit the top of it hard with the other, ripping it off.  I gasped.  He had me realign my nipples and so he could do it again.  I felt tears, they fuzzed my vision as I tried to stuff them back down my throat.  I didn't want him to see them.  I didn't want him to be pleased by them.

 

       He did see.  He was pleased.  I know this because he said to Darns, "We should make her punish herself, sometime.  Whip herself."  He punctuated this by knocking the folder off of my nipples again.  My knees gave a little.

       

       He was on his fifth time when the other man said, "Let me show you what I do."

       The first man knocked the folder down one last time and my new tormenter stood before me.  He leaned down and took the nipples in his mouth, one after the other.  My whole body convulsed.  The slightest touch to my nipples sent a surge straight down to my pussy, they were so raw.  The weight lifter undid his pants and sat in a chair, playing with his erect penis as he watched.

       The new guy noticed this and said, pointing to the other's penis, "Look at that.  You did that.  You need to take care of that."  He turned me so my back was to the man in the chair.  He kicked my legs apart and pushed me down.  The man in the chair guided his penis inside me as his friend tried to align me correctly.  It was odd and awkward at first but that cock soon found it's way inside and I was impaled.    His hands grabbed my arms just below my shoulders, pulled them back, angling me forward.

       The new man took my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted.  I screamed, not meaning to.  Darns shoved a dishcloth in my mouth and the new man gave my nipples another twist.

       I was writhing and squirming, the man behind me said, "Oh, yeah, keep doing that.  She's riding me like a bronco.  Oh yeah, this is amazing."  I screamed into the cloth.  The man twisted, twisted, twisted.  My legs were kicking wildly but the folder man kept me place, kept me firmly planted on his dick.  I knew that the more I expressed my pain, the more they would love it, the worse it would be for me.  But I couldn't stop.  I couldn't hold it in.  I was in too much pain to get any pleasure from the cock inside me.  The pleasure was all his.  The pain was all mine.

       He came with a loud grunt, digging his hands into my arms. 

       Darns said, "That looked like fun.  Do you want to try?"

       I shook my head wildly, desperately, trying to plead with my eyes but to no avail.  Nipple Twister took his friend's place while his friend provided the bucking by twisting my nipples himself.

       When they were done, they had me stand with my hands on my head and my legs spread, to examine me.  They pinched and squeezed and prodded as I shook and trembled and whined into the cloth.  The Folder man reached down and touched my clitoris.  "Hard.  Like a little nut.  You want it bad.  You like this."  I looked at him pleadingly, unsure what I was pleading for.  He pinched my nipples more and moved my pelvis around, searchingly, still trying to plead with my eyes.  He sat on the floor and peered at my pussy.  "That's hilarious.  She wants it so bad.  It's kind of pathetic.  Lordy, she juiced down her leg.  Or is that us?  Still, I've never seen a cunt so desperate to cum.  The cunt lips are swollen and red like a baboon.  Maybe we should fuck her with a banana.  Does our little baboon wanna fuck a banana?  Nana for da minkey?"  He stuck his finger in my naval and wiggled it around.  They laughed. 

       They discussed what to do with me next.  They all agreed that my cunt should not be satisfied.  They all agreed that my nipples should not be rested.  They ended up tying my arms to the back of a chair, my ankles to the back legs of the chair.  They wound rope below my breasts, around the back of the chair, winding down to my pelvic bone.  Every time I thought they were done, they added more rope.  I was practically mummified but that my breasts and vagina were still accessible.  I tried to squirm but the only evidence of my effort was a slight squeaking sound from the rope.

       The last thing Darns did before leaving was write something on a piece of paper which he taped to my forehead.  It fell over my face and covered my sight.  I could still see the periphery but not straight ahead.  I couldn't read the words on it at all, it was too close to my eyes to make out.

       The paper clearly requested nipple play because that was what I got for the rest of the day every time somebody came into the room.  It was practically the only acknowledgment of my presence there, aside from the laughs elicited by the moans I failed to keep down. 

       It came in all manner and form.  I felt lips, tongues, teeth, cold metal, sharp objects, food, both solid and pasty.  Some of the wet, food-like substances stung or burned.  Some cooled and soothed.  Some was sticky and it's removal by mouth was prolonged. 

       At long last, one of them removed the paper from my face.  It was Darns.  He was smiling.  On the table sat a dildo, a vibrator and the clamps.  "Pain," he said.  He stroked my breasts as he spoke.  I felt weak, exhausted.  "This is not a lesson you can learn at once.  You will need to become accustomed to pain.  You will need it to become a part of you, of your day, something you deal with because it isn't avoidable.  This was not a whole lesson so much as an introduction to your new life."

       My eyes felt droopy.  He removed the cloth from my mouth and fed me, still tied to the chair.  He gave me water which I gulped as it spilled all over me.  It felt as good over my body as down my throat.  It made me even more exhausted to eat. 

       "These three items on the table.  I will use all of them or none of them.  It is your decision.  What will it be?  All or none?"

       My nipples felt like they might just fall off like a scab.  "None," I said and immediately realized my mistake when a sinister smile elongated his mouth and he reached for the dildo.

       I shut my eyes tight.  He inserted it, forcing it in as far as he could with me seated.  He put the clamps on again.  My face contorted.  I didn't have the energy to scream anymore.  Then he pressed the vibrator into my pussy and turned it on.

       I threw my head forward at the sudden, intense, pulsating, vibrating on that tender little knob, so neglected, so desperate for any attention.  It seemed that it had made itself more sensitive than it ever had been, trying to get what it needed from what tiny touch had been offered it.  And now it was overloaded.  Like when your eyes adjust to the dark and somebody suddenly turns on a light.  My clitoris had adjusted to neglect and was now the focus of some serious sensation. 

       My mouth opened wide and my neck strained forward, my brow furrowing.  It was too much.  I couldn't handle so much.  But, it made me almost unaware of my nipples.  I couldn't move an inch, I couldn't get away from it.  I had to absorb it all, deal with this flood, this overwhelming deluge of kinetic energy.  I suddenly felt my whole body seize, every muscle contracting tightly, making my intricate bonds momentarily unnecessary.  Then they all melted as wave after wave of pleasure surged through me. 

       Darns pulled off the clamps, removed the dildo, untied my bonds.  I wobbled on my feet when I stood.  I slipped the dress over my head.  It grazed my nipples like sandpaper.  Darns reached his arms around and rubbed them through my dress.  He whispered into my ear, "Go home.  Don't you dare fucking masturbate."  I felt the pressure begin to build again, that pressure and need in my pussy.  Not again, I thought.  Not so soon.  Please.  Not right away.

       

DINING OUT

       I went straight to the shower as soon as I got in.  I was toweling dry when I heard the door open and close.   I walked into the living room, naked.  Darns was sitting on the couch, his legs splayed out in front of him.  There was a case next to the couch.

       "Make me a drink." 

       "What would you like, sir?"

       "You have whiskey."  It wasn't a question.  All I had was a bottle of whiskey.  And he knew that.  I had a sudden urge to tell him I didn't have any.  It was just one of those impulses towards self-destruction.  Like the urge to jump when standing on a precipice.

       I didn't.  I said, "Yes, sir.  Would you like ice?"

       "No."

       I poured him two fingers.  He took it and said, "Hump my leg like a dog."  I got down on his leg and started grinding, without thought.  I was too tired to feel humiliated.  He sat back, sipping his whiskey, letting me hump his leg.  He didn't even watch me do it.  I actually got into it, got close to orgasm.  I wanted to cry again when he stopped me short of it, "Stop.  Don't cum.  Never cum without my permission.  Always tell me if you are about to cum.  Lie on your back with your arms out, feet together, knees splayed."  I did.  I felt I'd go mad with need.  I was grinding my pelvis slightly, pleadingly.  Still, I could have fallen asleep right then, too.

       He stood and walked into the back room.  When he came into the living room again, he was naked.  He lowered himself onto my face, with his face over my crotch, and began fucking my mouth.  I heard and felt him spitting on my pussy, the wet splat hitting my most tender area.  He had asked me if I could love him.  I thought I had changed this dynamic, at least a little.  If he wanted my love, he may stop debasing me.  But, here I lay, dick in mouth, testicles on my face, asshole right above my eyes, spit falling on my vagina. 

       I hadn't improved my situation at all.

       Still fucking my mouth, he started slapping my vagina, hard.  I pushed my pelvis up to him, offering it for his abuse.  It hurt but I was so hungry for any attention there I'd have taken it in any form.  He rammed his fingers inside me roughly.  I tried to fuck them, to grind them, just to thank him for any consideration he gave me there.  As he came he dug his fingers inside me. 

       He rose wordlessly and left me alone on the floor again, neglected.

       "Put these on," he threw some of my clothes at me as he returned.  It was that bra that lifted but didn't cover, a light, button down sweater, my highest heels and my best skirt.  He had one of my belts in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.  I had put on the items and was buttoning the sweater when he said, "No."  That was when he began modifying the outfit to his liking.  He secured the belt tightly just under my breasts.  Then he shifted the sweater open so that it ran only just over my nipples, exposing as much of the ample cleavage as existed between them.  Then he began cutting my skirt.  I loved that skirt.  I had bought it off the rack but it fit as though it had been tailored.  It came to just above my knee, the perfect balance between flattering and modest.  When he was done with it, it was only long enough to barely cover my ass and pussy. 

       In my heels, I was almost his height. 

       He stroked my cheek and, as though I would be happy and romanced at what he said, "I'm taking you to dinner."

       I choked on the words, "Thank you, sir."  I wanted to cry.  I was so tired.  I had thought we would sleep soon.

       I saw his police car parked outside but we took the bus.  He chose the seats in the back, the ones lining the wall and facing those directly opposite.  I sat to his left.  Two young women were in the opposite seats. 

       Once we were settled and the bus began accelerating, Darns pushed my knees apart, exposing me to the girls across from us.  I felt my face flush and I turned away.  They quickly rose and moved to a seat in the front.  One of them murmured, "Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?"

       I looked straight ahead again.  That was now the best place to stare; no eyes resided there to stare back.  Darns was looking around the bus.  His eyes finally settled on something.  He was moving his head in a communicative way.  Perhaps not getting his point across to his satisfaction, he made motions with his right hand, his left hand still holding my knee in place.

       There was rustling in the direction he was looking as an older couple moved to sit across from us.  I looked away again but Darns grabbed my chin with his right hand and faced me at the couple.  The man was looking me up and down, smiling as a child smiles if you give her ice cream.  The woman was staring straight at my crotch, confused, as though my vagina baffled her.

       The man asked, "You on the force?"

       Darns, "How could you tell."

       He pointed at himself.  "Retired."  Pointed at me, "I miss this part of the job."

       The woman said, "I was a detective.  That's how we met."  She flashed a sweet smile at her husband, patted his knee and went straight back to staring at my pussy as though it were growing it's own papaya.

       "That natural or is she Treated," the man asked.

       "Oh, that's all her," Darns said, running his finger between my labia.  "Today was her first day."

       "Nice.  Naturally responsive is the best kind.  I know some love it but I never liked the treated ones.  When I suck a tit it's because I want to suck a tit, not because I'm thirsty.  Know what I mean?  I just want to suck it, I don't want milk from it."

       "Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Darns said.  His hand was still on my pussy, spreading the lips apart, showing as much of me as there was to show.

       "She looks tired," the woman said.  I don't know how she figured that out from my pussy.  She didn't look anywhere else.

       "I'm sure she is.  It was  very long day for her."  Darns pulled the sweater to the side a bit, exposing my nipple and it's red halo.  "We're just on our way to a restaurant.  Would you care to join us?"

       They exchanged a look, one of those secret, marital communiques, and the wife said, "That would be lovely."

       The rest of the ride, they talked shop.  The wife joined the conversation but rarely took her eyes off of my vagina.  No one said a word to me. 

       At the restaurant, Darns suggested I sit between the couple.  He pulled out my chair, as a gentleman would for a lady.  As he pushed it toward the table, he whispered in my ear, "Keep those legs spread wide, cunt."

       There was a single carnation in a vase in the middle of the table.  The wife took it.  "How lovely."  She smelled it, twirled it, then inserted it in my cleavage.  I felt the husband's hand run up and down the inside of my thigh. 

       The waiter came, gave us menus and took our drink orders.  He was clearly desperate to avoid looking at my flower holding cleavage but finding the task impossible.  Darns ordered a water for me and beers for them.  I'd never wanted a beer so badly.  He left to fetch the drinks and Darns took my menu away.

       The husband, on my left, lifted my hand from the table and asked Darns, "Do you mind?"

       "Not at all.  Help yourself."

       He took his penis out of his pants and put my hand on it.  I played with it, gripping it and rubbing it.  I was concentrating on this task so hard that it startled me when Darns spoke to me.  I was beginning to recognize the specific tone he took with me.  I knew by the sound of his voice if his words were for me.  "Don't you think you're being rude to the lady, cunt?"

       I felt a moment of abject terror from not knowing what Darns meant and being helpless to rectify my faux pas, whatever it was.  Then I noticed she was hiking up her skirt.  "I'm sorry, ma'am."  I put my other hand on her and gave her vagina the treatment I so desperately wanted somebody to give mine.  She was bone dry so I had to keep wetting my fingers in my mouth.

       She said, "Saliva doesn't work quite as well as real pussy juice, does it, dear?" 

       "No, ma'am."  I didn't know how else to fix it.  I couldn't seem to get her wet.

       "Then use real pussy juice."  She sounded annoyed.  Still, it took a few more moments for me to figure out what she was getting at.

       I put my finger in my own vagina, collecting the liquid there.  And she was right.  It stayed slick over her clitoris for much longer.  I tried to play with myself secretly, under the ruse of getting my finger wet.  There was no time to do anything but make myself more needy.

       The husband looked at Darns and said, "Well, this is just lovely."

       The wife, "Oh, it certainly is.  Thank you so much for inviting us out with you."

       "It's my pleasure entirely," Darns said.  "The evening is turning out much better than I had anticipated.  If you've other plans, I understand.  However, I hope the evening doesn't have to end with this dinner."

       "Dear," the wife said.  She leaned forward earnestly.  She spoke with weight.  "It's so nice to meet a young cop with the proper respect for those who came before.  So many treat us as obsolete.  You are a quality young man."  At the phrase, quality young man, the image of him urinating into my vagina popped into my head.

       "I'll save this for later," the husband said, grabbing my hand and tossing it on the table.  "Have you met the new commissioner, yet?"  At this, his wife gave her husband a knowing, approving look.

       "No, he's meant to be visiting all the stations personally but we've not been given a date."

       "He is a personal friend of mine.  We worked at the same station.  In fact, I was with him when he took out that rebel faction that won him so many honors.  Keep this to yourself as he means to surprise you with his visit:  he's coming in three weeks.  When he comes, he will know your name."

       I felt a surge of excitement for Darns, immediately followed by confusion as to where that emotion had come from.  Darns didn't look excited at all.  He said, "With all due respect, and I really appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not get by on favors."

       "I don't do favors and neither does commissioner Rond.  He'll know your name and he'll check you out.  If he does anything with you, it will be because of you, not this dinner or anything that comes after."

       Darns looked at me, then at the husband.  "I'd really rather you didn't."  The couple looked at one another, communicating quasi-telepathically again, then at me.  I realized that the conversation was now about me, somehow.  I only knew from the looks I was getting, the suspicious, important looks they were all suddenly lobbing in my direction.  My spine straightened without my telling it to.  Darns said to the man, "This is really none of your concern."

       "Boy, I'm not going to lecture you.  It might not be such a bad call your making.  At least let us vet her for you.  An objective, third party.  Then we can talk about what can and can not be done with your future."

       I felt nauseated.  I knew they were talking about me.  I knew it was important.  But I had no idea what any of it meant.

       Darns stared at the husband, searchingly.  He was about to speak when the waiter came to get out order.  Darns ordered me a vegetarian meal.  When he was gone, "What do you think you can find out?"

       "My wife can discover quite a lot, actually.  All of this is pointless if you're not a very good officer.  Is there any point to this?"

       Darns spoke as though he were announcing checkmate, "I'm the second.  I've got more third level collars than everybody else combined."  I felt proud.  I had more of a relationship with my gay husband than with this man and none of my husband's accomplishments made me feel proud.  I felt odd.

       "Has she said anything to you to make you feel...special," the man asked.

       "Yes."  I expected him to look at me but he held the man's gaze steadily.  My heart was racing.

       "Do you believe her?"

       "You know I do."  His answer was so quick it almost overlapped the question.

       "You want to own her."

       "I already do."

       "Let us vet her.  We'll tell you exactly what your situation is when we're done.  You are not in a position to determine that.  I see that you feel certain but nobody is perfect and you may have made mistakes.  You need a third party verification."

       "Okay."  And that was the end of it.  They talked more shop.  I played with the wife the whole time.  I didn't listen to anything else they said.  I tried hopelessly to understand what they could have been talking about, instead.  Mistakes?  What mistakes? 

       

       I had to eat with my left hand which was awkward and difficult.  She never got wet or even seemed the least aroused.  We went back to my apartment afterwards.  They had me undress and kneel in front of the couch, laying my torso on it.  My face was buried in the cushion at an odd angle.  The husband entered me from behind.

       The wife said to Darns, "You shouldn't be here for this."

       The husband quickly added, "She can handle this alone.  Why don't we go for a drink?"

       The wife, "Do you have any devices or should I make do with what is around?"

       Darns said, "That case next to the couch is full of stuff.  How long will this take?"

       The wife said, "It depends.  I'll call when I'm done.  Can I get her spread and immobile before you go?"

       "Let me run to my car.  I have more in the trunk."

       Darns left me alone with the two of them.  "What do you think," the wife asked.

       I thought she meant me until the husband responded.  "He's exactly what Bob was talking about.  Exactly.  It's really quite uncanny to run into him so soon after that conversation."  He was fucking me erratically.  He would push only the head of his penis inside and out, inside and out.  At sudden, unpredictable intervals, he would brutally ram his whole penis inside me.

       "Mmmm.  It's not that uncanny, really.  We've been wandering around the city for a couple of weeks.  I'm sure we're not the only ones Bob had out on the prowl."  I could hear her making preparations, walking around, objects knocking on other objects.  The husband started fucking me properly, hard and quick, kneading my buttocks until he came.  He left me there and asked his wife, "You need some help?"  I heard the faucet turn on.

       "Just when he gets back.  Help bind her.  Oh, speak of the devil."  The door opened and closed.  I felt him grab my arms and lift me.  He brought me to the table.

       "Up," he said, slapping my ass.  I sat on the table where he pushed me back and lay me on my back.  He folded my leg together, tied the upper leg to the lower.  The husband soon took the other leg and did the same, watching Darns and taking instruction from what he did.  The wife grabbed my hair and pulled up.  I lifted my upper torso as far as I could.  I felt a cushion push under me.  Darns tied my wrist to my ankle.  The husband followed suit.  My hair again, another cushion.  The wife was suddenly at the other end, pushing the table back until it was against the wall.  She reached over and pushed my ass until I was against the wall.  Darns and the husband tied a rope to my ankle/wrist and under the table, somewhere, pulling my legs apart.  Another rope around my torso and under the table.  I could hardly squirm.

       The wife, "That's great.  You boys have fun.  I'll call."

       They left wordlessly.  The wife stood wordlessly.  I tried to squirm.  I was terrified.  Of all that had been done to me, what could they possibly be so much worse that it would require me immobile?  It occurred to me that I had wanted to see what preparations she'd made but their restraining me had distracted me from this task.

       The sound of the car starting and driving off drifted up to us.  Her eyes looked diagonally upwards, looking at the listening place.  "Okay.  I'm going to ask you some questions.  I want honest answers."  She dipped down, producing a riding crop.  "If I feel you are not being honest with me," she snapped her wrist expertly, the crop licked at my pussy at a blinding speed and white, hot pain shot even quicker up my spine to my brain.  My whole face contorted in the effort to make no noise.  "Do you understand?" 

       "Yes ma'am."  I felt more exposed now than I had ever before.  I was now exposed to the possibility of pain from a woman who derived no pleasure from me sexually.  Was that why she'd had me play with her all night though she got nothing from it.  Did she want me aware of how little she desired me?  Did she know what a difference it would make?

       "First question.  What did you say to him?  What did you say to make him feel special?"

       I didn't know where to begin.  The whole situation seemed so much more complex and nuanced than I could explain in a simple answer that would save me from the crop.  Too quick for me to even think of objecting, it snapped again.  My whole body clenched and I heard a little snort escape me.  "You're thinking about your answer.  You must intend to lie."

       "No, I don't know where to begin."

       "Go as far back as you want."

       "It was after this thing...he called it 'dignity'."

       "I know dignity," she said, impatient at the mere possibility I could waste her time with my descriptions.

       "He asked me how it went and I said I thought it had worked.  I just wanted to please him with no thought to my own dignity.  Which was the point.  I thought it would please him to tell him.  But it didn't."

       "Why not?"

       "He said I was trying to manipulate him," I spoke quickly.  As though the speed of my words would save me.

       "Were you?"

       I thought for a moment, forgetting that I wasn't supposed to.  She was so fast with that thing.  The pain seemed to touch every cell in my body and a whimper escaped me.  I was flexing the muscles down there.  I felt shame that she would see this, my pussy flexing.  "It was true.  I didn't lie.  I did think his reaction would be positive.  I did want a positive reaction from him.  But I wasn't deceptive, if that's what you mean."

       "He was angry?"

       "Yes."

       "What then?"  She was as quick with her questions as she was with that crop.

       "I was scared.  I was terrified.  I didn't know what to say.  So I just started talking.  I said that I felt like he was my true owner, even though he wasn't.  I think I said some other things but I don't remember what they were.  That was the thing that made him think he was special, though.  I don't think anything else I said was like that."

       "Was it true?"  She tweaked the crop as she spoke.  She wanted and excuse to use it.  This was clear.

       "I don't know.  It didn't feel like a lie.  Not when I said it.  Not now, even.  But it doesn't really feel like the truth, either.  I don't know what it is."

       She looked at me quizzically, nodding "yes" while her expression said, "what the hell are you talking about?"  "What then?"

       "He asked me if I thought I could love him.  I said I didn't know."

       The crop again, for no reason I could imagine.  It was as though ice shot through every nerve in my body.  In spite of myself, I yelled, "OW!  FUCK!"

       "You must know if you think you could love a person.  You can make that call about every person you meet.  He didn't ask if you could love him.  Just if you thought you could.  Tell me.  Do you think you could?"

       She had the crop poised above my crotch, letting me know what a hair trigger she had on this point.  "That's not true.  It depends.  I don't think I could love him if he couldn't love me."

       "Doesn't his asking tell you he could?"

       "He may think he could but he doesn't know," I said.

       "Why not?"

       "He doesn't know me any more than I know him," I said.

       She stared at me thoughtfully.  She said, "Hmmm," as though she were thinking around an interesting problem.  My vagina felt hot and sore and still in a terribly precarious situation.  "I'm going to tell you something.  He told us he gets more level 3 collars than anybody.  Than all his coworkers combined.  Level 3 is a very time consuming task.  It involved heavy surveillance.  You follow a person for weeks, even months.  You tap their phone.  He has heard your most intimate conversations, watched you in your most isolated moments, he may well know you better than your own husband does."  I felt my eyes widen.  She added, "It is possible he already loves you."

       "No.  You don't know how he treats me.  He made me fuck his toe.  He peed in me."

       She nodded.  "Of course he did.  He'll do worse.  He means to own you in every conceivable way.  That means you have to accept every part of him with every part of yourself.  He won't be satisfied forcing it out of you.  You will have to offer yourself to him."

       "Haven't I done that?"  I was vaguely aware that I was shouting.

       "No, dear.  Not if your objecting to his piss."

       "What do I have to do?"  She snapped the crop again and I let go.  I lay my head back and screamed.  This only seemed to egg her on.  It came down again and again.  It was bright pain.  It was twisted pain.  It made my hair stand, all my skin was goosefleshy tingles of prickly white pain.

       When she stopped, I lay gasping and shrieking.  She waited for me to recover myself before explaining why she'd just punished me. 

       "I'm not going to tell you what to do."  She turned the crop around and shoved the handle brutally into my ass.  She leaned down and produced my hair caddy, from my bathroom.  She brought it to my head and started brushing my hair, parting it down the middle and making two ponytails on each side of my head.  It wasn't a regular set of pony tails.  She tied each one around a long ribbon that ran along the back of my head.  I was moving and straining in my bonds which caused the crop to bounce up and down.  I felt ridiculous. 

       She spoke very calmly now, the authoritarian tone gone, replaced by an almost mothering one.  "The real question we need to discover is your willingness to do it.  Are you a slave at heart?"  I kept quiet.  I could think of what to say but had no idea if it would anger her.  She began braiding each side, tightly.  She was braiding the ribbon in, too.  "Or are you just an adaptive creature.  We need to know this about you.  Have you ever had any fantasies about this sort of thing?"

       "Sort of.  A little.  Spanking.  Being tied up.  Being...used."

       "That's good.  Have you done anything like this?"

       She finished braiding the hair and tying it off at the ends.  She walked to the end of the table again.  "No.  I got married pretty young.  It was hard enough finding a way to have sex at all."

       "Oh.  Why is that?"  She produced a large hook with a phallus on the end.  She held it in one hand and looked at me, awaiting the answer.  I waited for her to do what she was going to do but she made no move.  As soon as I began speaking, she started pushing the phallus into my vagina.  She did this slowly, stopping any time I paused.

       "It um it was a beard.....He's gay.  Ungh......He is my best friend Um, egh...he saved my life once.   I owe him everything."  She tied the ribbons to the other end of the hook, pulling my head off of the cushion.  "We've had to be very discreet about our lovers.  Recently, I've had some trouble.  Down there.  Some weird infection.  The doctors couldn't figure it out but it cleared up about a month ago."  I spoke very quickly, like an auctioneer.  I still thought quick answers would help me.

       She pulled on the ribbon.  It pulled the hook up, pressing up on the inside wall of my vagina.  "Very good."  She grabbed the hook, holding it in me as she removed the cushions from under me.  I lowered, the hook dug in deeper and my chin was forced to my chest.  I felt my abdominal muscles activating.  "Nice," she said.

       She then produced two clamps attached by a chain.  Of course, the clamps went on my nipples and the chain was pulled across my chest as my breasts fell away to each side.  It hurt and ached but it also felt familiar.  It was almost comforting how familiar the pain felt.  These clamps weren't as punishing as the ones Darns had used earlier.  These were just painful enough to let you know.  She told me to grab the chain with my mouth and watched me struggle to do this impossible task. 

       "Right.  Keep trying."  As I tried, she dialed her cell phone and said, "Where are you?  Is there somewhere closer?  At the corner.  Meet me there.  Leave now."  Then she hung up.  She walked around to my ass and removed the crop.  I pushed my tongue out as far as it would go, not even able to touch the chain with it.  I heard the pop of a cap and felt that wetness and pressure on my asshole as something forced its way in.  I squealed.  It got wider, forcing me open, forcing me apart, then suddenly got thinner.  My asshole closed around the bigger part inside me.  She went into my bedroom and came back in, wheeling my tall, standing mirror to face me. 

       I had what looked like a snake coming out of my ass.  It wasn't real.  It couldn't be.  It wasn't moving and it looked plastic.  I couldn't move my head.  With open eyes, I was forced to see myself, bound and stuffed. 

       She walked to my head, grabbed the chain and put it in my mouth.  It pulled on my nipples, lifting my breasts.

       "I hope you are quite convinced that, if you let go of this, you won't be able to get it back in your mouth.  If I come back and it's not in your mouth, you get the crop again."

       And she left.  There was no clock.  I didn't know how long it was.  My abdominal muscles quivered a bit.  My thighs ached.  My nipples hurt.  The fullness and discomfort of having so much inside me was the only thing I had to concentrate on to distract me from releasing that chain.  It almost slipped out on its own once and I had to work my tongue on it to get it further into my mouth, pulling mercilessly on my nipples to save my pussy.

       I could see in the mirror that my face was getting redder and redder with time.

 

       When I heard their laughter outside the door and I almost forgot myself, almost released the chain from relief.  When they walked in, more peals of laughter at the sight of me filled the room.  Darns walked around me slowly, taking it all in, relishing it.  He tickled my clitoris and smiled at the sounds it elicited.  He pulled on the ribbon.  Unsatisfied at how meager the force of it was, h grabbed the hook itself and fucked me with it.  This got me to make the sounds he wanted because he smiled again.

       Then, suddenly conscious of his guests, he released my bonds.  He removed all but the fake snake in my ass.  Darns said it was his favorite toy.

       They sat on the couch and had me make them all drinks.  I was walking oddly, trying to accommodate the thing in my ass.  As I served them, Darns pinched my sore nipples.  They, had me stand before them, legs together and pelvis pushed forward.  This made the snake plug more uncomfortable which was probably the point. 

       The wife said, "She has a nice body.  And she gets very wet.  Look at that little clit peaking out."

       The husband said, in a squeaky voice meant to be my clitoris, "Please touch me."  I blushed as they laughed.

       Darns said, "But do you really think it will happen?"

       The wife, "There's no way to know for sure.  Just keep an eye out for the stuff I told you about.  You'll be fine."

       They finally left, after talk of keeping in touch.  Darns looked at me hard then led me to the bedroom.  He threw me on my back on the bed, spread my legs and entered me.  I could feel his penis pushing against the thing in my ass.  I was thankful at how slow he was going.  He stared into my eyes intensely as he pushed his penis all the way into me, grinding, pinning me down against the snake with the weight of his body and the length of his dick.

 

       He said, "She told you I love you."

       "Yes, sir."

       "My love for you will do you no favors."

       "Yes, sir."

       "It's worse for you that I love you."

       "Yes, sir."

       And he fucked me, slowly, penetrating me as he stared into my eyes.

       "Sir?"  If I could only get the answer to this one question, I might be able to improve my position. 

       "What?"

       "How should I love you back?"

       He stopped.  He kissed my lips, forced his tongue in my mouth, lifted his head, stared into my eyes again.  "Don't get ahead of yourself.  Don't you ever fucking lie to me.  Whose pussy is this?"  He asked, moving inside me again.

       "Yours, sir."

       "Say it," he said.

       "That is your pussy, sir."

       "Tell me I own you," he said.

       "You own me, sir."

       "More.  Say more," he said.

       "I belong to you.  I am your property.  Your will is my command.  I'm about to come, sir."

       "Do it.  Cum.  But keep telling me."

       "I am yours.  I just want to serve you and make you happy.  You possess me.  I am your posse...."  I came, explosions of warm pleasure surging through me, shaking my whole body.  I felt my pussy throbbing and convulsing.  He came as that happened and lay on top of me, recovering, for several minutes.  Then he rolled off of me and fell asleep.  I left the snake in, not having been given permission to remove it.  I thought it would keep me awake but was underestimating how taxing the day had been.  I woke to a throbbing asshole and Darns, fully dressed, sitting up in the bed, stroking my hair. 

       He said, "If I own you now, then I've always owned you.  When I think of how long you've been out there, acting like a free woman, when you were actually my property, I get very angry.  That is stealing.  All those years you weren't with me, you were stealing from me.  I haven't even begun to punish you for that.  You had better prepare yourself.  You'd better be ready to make some serious amends."  He grabbed the snake and yanked it out.  My back arched at the sudden pain. 

       He said, "It's your second day of training.  Get ready." 

       He left.

       And I knew, alone on my bed, that my situation was not improvable.