animasola86

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 13

After the ordeals of the day, you are supposed to sleep in your cage to get some rest, but Master has different plans for you...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Bondage. Fucking machines, triple penetration. Supervised showering. Directed vaginal and anal fingering. Anal insertions/improvised enema. Humiliation. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 4.4k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Reminder: for more information on Master (and why I tagged this the way I did) and Reader, check the Author's Notes in chapter 1.

Chapter 12 🔻 Chapter 13 🔺 Chapter 14

You woke up to a hand on your mouth. Startling awake, you thrashed against the hold, only to be shushed and gently pulled forwards until your aching knees left the soft blanket and met the hard floor.

“Get up,” a familiar voice told you, and you blinked your eyes into focus, scrambling to stand, your legs wobbly from misuse and your cramped position in the cage. A hand held your elbow, and you looked up, squinting into the darkness of the room.

“Master,” you whispered as you recognized the man, and somehow you felt relieved to see him. Suddenly, despite your former revelations, you didn't want to be one of many, having to endure the same training, the same brainwashing, didn't want to be a pet, having to eat out of a dog bowl on the floor, sleep in cages; in the end, you wanted to be with him, be his fuckdoll, endure whatever he threw at you, as long as it was just you and him. In a way, that made the whole situation easier in your mind.

“Keep quiet,” he hissed, and you nodded, pressing your lips together, your heart beating faster.

With his hand on your nape, giving a gentle but firm pressure, he led you through the labyrinth of different cages, and you heard the soft breaths of the other girls, wondering how they could embrace this sort of life so easily, or if they fought to accept it as well, and were just better at hiding it. Maybe the longer you were here, the easier it would get? Would you become numb to it eventually? You didn't want to think that way, you wanted to cling to that tiny fragment of hope that you would be released once your debt was paid off?

But then, what if it already was paid off, and the fine print of the contract you didn't read said exactly that: you were now bound to this place, bound to the man guiding you through the hallways, your life in his hands, literally, forever? As horrible as that sounded, you always came back to the same conclusion. Better him than those two ladies with their obedience training, or that woman with the dog bowls, the pet mistress? Or staying in that big room full of cages with countless other girls sharing the same fate, waiting for their next test of endurance? If you had to stay here anyway, you'd prefer to serve just him.

It couldn't be that bad, right?

That sort of optimism dwindled rapidly as you realized where he was taking you. He leaned past you to open one of the unassuming doors, and you were immediately hit by the stale stench of sex.

The mechanical whirring was almost deafening after the quiet that had settled around you. The light in the room was dimmed, but the scene in front of you was clear. Your eyes widened as you recognized the girl, strapped to a table with her head hanging off and her legs spread, thick leather bands holding her down, and two machines assaulting both sides of her writhing body. Bird.

You froze on the spot, terror filling your senses, but Master gave you a rough push into the room. You noticed that there was another man sitting near the head of the table where a long dildo was pushed in and out of the girl's mouth that was held open by a ring gag, the insistent toy was gliding deep, bulging her collared neck. Her eyes were closed, skin reddened, saliva foaming around her lips and dripping down the side of her face, mixing with her tears. Her chest was barely moving, but her legs were twitching uncontrollably in their restraints, toes curling under the constant push and pull of the long and thick objects pressing into her wet cunt and ass. The whirring noises barely masked the squelching sounds.

You felt hot tears brimming in your eyes. Watching her being subjected so helplessly to these machines, reminded you of your own experience, something you weren't very keen on ever repeating. But it seemed you didn't have a say in this anyway. You were already expecting to join the poor girl, and you wondered why you were being punished, what you had done wrong. Had he changed his mind? Or was this just another training session?

Your eyes moved frantically around the room, knowing there was no way out, but your little exploration made you realize there wasn't another table or fucking machine you could be strapped to. It was only Bird and her silent watcher.

“How is she doing?” Master asked the man keeping watch on the poor girl.

“Doing great. We had some struggles in the beginning, she fainted on me once, but I think we found our rhythm now,” the other man explained in a nonchalant voice.

The man beside you nodded. “Good. Keep the pace for another hour, then crank them up for ten minutes. Give her five minute breaks every two hours. Then repeat however you see fit,” he instructed casually, taking a step closer to brush his fingers over the girl's fluttering stomach. “Make me proud, Bird.”

You noticed how the girl's eyes fluttered open just a tad, her hands jerking against her restraints. A strained gurgle escaped her.

“Good girl, I'll check on you tomorrow,” he told her, placing his wide hand onto her lower stomach, making her squirm. You realized he was pressing on the small bulge that appeared every time one of the dildos pushed all the way into her. He ignored her struggles and lifted his head to face the other man again. “If I'm not back by 9 pm, unstrap her and take her to either Mistress.”

“Yes, sir,” the man confirmed.

Master nodded, then his attention was back on you. You stared at him, unable to hide the tears burning in your eyes. He raised his hand and traced his thumb under your left eye, making some spill past your lashes, as he watched you intently.

“Let's go,” he then said, killing the soft moment before it had a chance to blossom, and his hand was back on your nape, squeezing hard as he maneuvered you to the door and into the endless labyrinth of hallways again.

While you were relieved you didn't have to endure another fucking machine session, you grew more and more anxious, the longer you walked with him. Where was he taking you? What had he planned? You had no idea, and it was eating you up alive.

It was a blur, and your stomach dropped multiple times (did you ride an elevator or had that just been nerves?), and somehow your legs gave way at the end and you fell onto a soft carpet in a dimly lit room. Before you could gather your thoughts and get your bearings, he grabbed your elbow again and hoisted you up, shoving you into a big bathroom. The light was brighter here and you squinted, blinked in confusion.

“Get in the shower,” he told you grimly.

Feeling your cheeks burning up, still struggling to comprehend the new setting, you followed the order and stepped into the giant glass cube. You'd never seen such a big shower. All those different knobs and valves and jets and shower heads caught your attention for a moment, before he suddenly leaned past you and turned the water on. While he stepped back (still in his white button-up and dress pants, strangely enough), steam filled the space, calming your nerves.

The water was warm, had the perfect temperature right away, and for another long moment you were numbed by the soothing heat, your confusion washed away. Don't question it, you told yourself, but once the initial relief had fizzled away like a dissolving cloud, you wondered why he was doing this. Singling you out, pulling you from the others? Allowing you a proper clean? He might just be watching you from the side, fully dressed, but it felt like such an intimate moment, something you hadn't expected at all. It was all you had hoped for, but it still felt strange. And you knew by now that you shouldn't trust this man's motives. He was a sadist at heart, and nothing more. Right?

“Clean up,” he told you and shoved a bar of soap into your hands. You stared at him, too confused and at the same time mesmerized to understand.

“Why?” The word slipped from your lips without revision.

He tilted his head, the warm air (and possibly his rising anger) forming red spots on his cheeks. Suddenly his hand was on your throat, and with a swift motion he had pulled you towards him and pinned you right against the glass wall. You gasped, your hands clinging to his wrist, the soap slipping from your grip.

“Why? Because I told you so,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don't think you're something special because I brought you here tonight. I am just testing my newest toy. You will service me tonight, and tomorrow I'll take you to the market and test your abilities further. And for that, I need you to be squeaky clean. Do you understand?”

You swallowed against his hand and the collar pressing into your throat. “Y-yes, master,” you croaked out barely audible, too shocked to even try to think about his words and what that meant for you. He eased his grip a little.

“Then show me how a good doll cleans herself up, go on,” he hissed and let go of you, stepping away again.

You were breathing harder, your heart pounding in your chest. Holding his gaze, you bent down to pick up the soap, then started rubbing it between your clammy hands, taking a step back to let the spray from the overhead shower run down your hair, thick rivulets streaming down your body, tickling in your lashes, washing away the nagging anxiety at least to some degree. You'd done this before, cleaning yourself in front of a man, and while the other had just watched, impassively, your Master seemed to debate whether or not he should join you.

And to be frank, you would welcome the sentiment. It would make you feel safer, would make it easier to rub the soap suds over your exposed body. You'd welcome his hands too, helping you, instead of the burning scrutiny he tortured you with. His gaze was intense, but despite it all, he remained where he was, an intimidating wall, tall and unyielding, blocking your exit, far enough away no stray water spray could reach his expensive clothes.

“Hurry up,” he told you darkly.

You inhaled sharply, moving your hands quicker around your torso, up and down your arms, into your armpits, around your shoulders, even up your neck to clean under your collar. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to soap up your hair as well, tilting your chin up to keep the sudsy water from running into your eyes, forcing you to break eye contact. He allowed it, and you were glad. You managed to wash yourself as you would normally, bending and twisting to wash your legs and between them, somewhat ignoring your silent watcher.

He broke his silence with a loud sigh. “Turn around and show me how you handle your tits, come on,” he told you, and when you did turn around, you saw he had crossed his arms over his chest, strong forearms tensing as he watched you.

You took another shuddering breath and gathered enough soap suds to cover your breasts, and after putting the soap onto one of those small shelves embedded into the wall, you straightened up and put your hands on your soft mounds, meeting his gaze, and started kneading them gently, your nipples rubbing between your fingers. Despite the humiliating aspect of having to do this in front of a stranger (which he definitely still was), it felt nice enough to distract yourself, causing you to bite your lip and coax a few mewls out of your throat.

“Now wash your cunt. Properly,” he instructed coldly.

You swallowed hard, chewing on your bottom lip as you lowered your hands and rubbed one of them between your legs, fingers bending and slipping between your folds, your breath hitching as you brushed against your throbbing clit. Somehow through it all, you were aroused again, or still, you never knew, and you certainly never suspected that having somebody watch you touch yourself had this effect on you. There was shame, and yet you also couldn't care less.

You looked up at him as you pushed your middle and ring finger against your entrance, letting him see how your fingers disappeared inside of you. His eyes followed the motion. His handsome face was slightly reddened, just a hint of color on his cheeks, but it remained impassive, stoic, hard, unreadable. You kept going, unsure if he really just wanted you to clean yourself or if you were supposed to fully masturbate in front of him.

You pumped your fingers a few times, but then pulled them back out, rubbing over your mound, circling your clit, teasing under the hood a little. You watched him while you did, and when he shifted on his feet and leaned against the open shower door, you froze, waiting for a new command. You immediately regretted giving him this opening.

“Now do the same to your asshole,” he told you, vile words in a low voice that vibrated through you, making you flinch.

You had never fingered your own ass before, never tested out the right angle to do so (never saw the need to do it in the first place). But you knew it was possible, you'd seen those porn clips of girls shoving their entire hands into their own ass, so maybe you could do the same, or at least poke your fingers in, which was preferable. Rolling your shoulders, you twisted your body a little, your hand rubbing from your lower back down between your ass cheeks.

The water kept pelting your head, running down your slick skin, and you let some gather on your hand before you moved your fingers lower, rubbing them against your puckered hole. You were so concentrated, you didn't even notice how your tongue stuck out between your lips, your head turned to watch what you were doing back there.

A low chuckle rang in your ears, and you froze, looking back at him. “Never done that before, huh?” he commented, his eyes moving down to your mouth. “Look at that face. Aren't you a cute little fuckdoll, so eager to please your Master, hm?” You blinked the water out of your eyes, your cheeks burning up, tongue pulling back into your mouth. “Keep going,” he encouraged you, his gaze wandering down to your hand.

And you did, taking a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax, you pressed the pad of your middle finger against your sphincter, that ring of muscles tight. You tried clenching it to unclench it, and that allowed your finger to slip in, a little gasp falling past your trembling lips. You turned slightly to let him see what you had managed to do, and kept pumping your finger in and out, holding his gaze, your face properly flushed now.

“Add at least one more,” he said quietly, and you tried, pushing your ring finger in as well. The stretch was noticeable, but when you remembered what else you'd had in there, it seemed silly to think two of your slim fingers would do any difference. “One more,” he whispered, and you kept pumping your fingers, the strain on your arm and contorted body getting to you, but you still added a third finger, stretching your hole further. “One more?” His last words sounded almost like a question, and the uncertainty, or rather suggestion, in his voice pushed you to try.

You formed your hand into a slim claw and pressed it against your tight muscles, and somehow your ass was relaxed enough to allow the motion, letting it slip in. The gentle stretch ripped a moan from your throat and urged you to move your hand faster, as deep as your knuckles allowed, and when you tucked your thumb between your fingers, making your hand slimmer, you managed to push it even deeper, curling it further into your warmth.

You should be ashamed of fucking your own ass like that, especially in front of this leering man, egging you on, commanding you to do so, but you'd been so on edge this entire day (while you were allowed some orgasms, you also ended up just watching others find their release, which really hadn't helped your aching core), so somehow your body just took over, and even in this strange angle, it did feel too good to stop now.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a keen sense on when you were getting even remotely close to the edge, when you were just starting to enjoy yourself, so when he told you to stop, you let out a frustrated whine, but still pulled your hand from your ass. Giving the cleft another rub, you straightened up and stood under the running water, mindlessly rubbing your hand against your thigh, as you watched him, waiting, unconsciously clenching and unclenching your hole, secretly hoping it might be enough.

“Give me the soap,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up.

You didn't think any of it as you turned around and retrieved it from the shelf, then placed it onto his palm.

“Turn around and bend over, hold onto your ankles,” he instructed, and you frowned, but did as he told you, struggling a little to hold that position with the water pelting your back and running down your neck and into your face, specifically your nostrils.

You were already spluttering, but you downright fell into a coughing fit when you felt him pushing something against your still clenching and probably gaping sphincter. His hand came to rest on your hip as you tried to breathe against the stretch and pressure, and then, the burning. Had he just shoved the soap into your ass?

Strangled whimpers escaped you, but he held you, one hand on your hip, the other on your back, keeping you in that bent-over position. You felt your stomach cramping, your tight muscles protesting the weird insertion and whatever reaction it had on your sensitive flesh. A violent jerk went through your body, and you pushed your rear out more, clenching hard around the object in your ass, and somehow you managed to move it, push it back, humiliation be damned, and you felt it slipping, passing that tight ring of muscles, before it clattered almost soundlessly onto the tiles.

“You did not just do that,” you heard his low voice behind you, making you tense up, before he leaned past you and grabbed something off the wall. The water hitting your back stopped, instead there was a hard jet, water spraying everywhere, and then, it was concentrated right between your ass cheeks, irritating your tender skin, and when you felt his hand tightening around your hip, holding you in place, you almost lost your balance. He had put the shower head against your hole, the jet spraying directly into your confused depths.

You gasped and spluttered, your hands slipping from clutching your ankles to grasping at the ground as you tried to hold your position, even though everything inside you wanted to squirm away, get away from the water filling you up. Your knees buckled, and without being able to control yourself anymore, you collapsed forward, slipping from his grip and from the merciless water spray. You fell to your knees, the sudden ache a good distraction from the water pouring out of you. Curling up on the tiled floor, you hugged your legs to your chest, sniffling as your body recovered from whatever had just happened.

A sigh echoed through the glass cube. “Get up, don't be dramatic,” he growled when he put the shower head back on the fixture on the wall. “Finish up, you have five minutes,” he added, and when you looked towards the door, he had turned around and walked away.

Your heart beat faster. Had you angered him? Would he punish you for real now? You didn't want to find out, but you also didn't want to make it worse, so you scrambled to your feet, washed your shame away, then turned the shower off and stepped out of it on trembling legs.

You dried off with the towel resting on the vanity, your mind swimming, your insides tensing up all over again. At least you were allowed a proper shower, and if you looked past whatever anal games he had played with you earlier, you didn't feel too bad. You were just confused and anxious as to what awaited you next.

It was a matter of habit to wrap the soft towel around your body, another towel around your wet hair, an automated gesture that felt normal and at the same time as if you were doing something forbidden. You had no idea how long ago you woke up in that spartan room without your clothes (must have been at least two days now?), and you realized you hadn't had a chance to cover up ever since. Somewhere during all those ordeals, you'd lost the shame of being naked, but now, presented with the opportunity to hide behind a towel, you took it nevertheless.

A strange little moment of normalcy, and for the first time in forever you took a deep breath and just existed in the moment, pushing away all the things that had happened and that might lie ahead. You even dared a gaze at yourself in the mirror, and while you barely recognized your reflection with how dull your eyes were and how shallow your face looked, you found a bit of comfort in the fact that you were allowed these luxuries in the first place. Cleaning up, taking care of yourself, actively doing something after having been treated like an object, following orders (technically, you were still following an order right now, but you looked past that for now).

You took another deep, shaking breath and pried your eyes away from the girl in the mirror. On the counter, you found something you'd seen before, on your very first night, back in that strange room/cell (that, in hindsight, looked so much more preferable than your cage). Your fingers shook when you opened the package with the toothbrush, your heart beating a little faster. There was even a hair brush, also prepackaged, so it was clear that it was meant for you. The gesture of providing you with these things felt almost caring, but you quickly pushed that thought aside.

Master didn't care. He told you. He was just testing his newest toy. And he liked his dolls squeaky clean, like he'd said before. So you swallowed any remaining assumptions bubbling in the back of your throat and focused on brushing your teeth, detangling your hair, you even braided it, thinking he might appreciate it, and once you were done, you turned to the open door – realizing he had been watching you, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Lose the towel,” he told you once you met his dark gaze.

You bit your lip, but followed suit, slowly unwrapping yourself, then folding the towel and placing it back on the vanity. The moment of normalcy was over, you knew it. Standing before him, exposed and shivering when the colder air coming through the open door hit your skin, you looked at him, waiting. He tilted his head.

“Do you have to use the toilet?” he then asked, and the question sent a different shiver through you. “If so, go on.”

You blinked at him, a wave of heat crashing into your face. “W-will you... w-watch?” you stammered.

“Of course I will watch,” he said, his eyes raking down your body. “I am your owner, I need to make sure you do it properly.”

You frowned at his words, slowly looking away towards the toilet bowl. Humiliation burned under your skin as you took the first step towards it, and you had to tell yourself that this was a privilege, an act of normalcy in all this madness. Though as soon as you sat down, actively avoiding meeting his gaze, you realized you just couldn't do it. Not with a stranger watching you so intently. Stupid body, really not the time to be modest now. You knew for a fact that you had to go, you'd seemingly held it for quite a while, but despite it all, nothing came.

Suddenly he stepped in front of you and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You know that if you wet the bed later, I will have to punish you, right?” he said menacingly, and it might have been the shock, but his words worked, and despite tensing up more, you were still able to let go and do what he asked of you. A strange little smile formed on his handsome face as your own heated up in embarrassment at the sounds you produced. “Good. Does as she is told, very well, doll.” He let go of your chin and turned away. “Finish and clean up, then join me in the bedroom,” he added on his way out.

You did, your hands shaking, your heart racing, the heat still burning under your skin, and when you were all done, you followed him into the big room. You couldn't really focus on the interior, your gaze was on him, waiting for more commands, awaiting whatever he had planned next. And it took just a tilt of his head and an outstretched hand, a finger pointing down, and you were on your knees on the soft carpet, assuming the position he showed you before, looking straight ahead, your fingers tensing around your forearms as you folded your arms behind your back.

“Good, now open wide.”

Chapter 12 🔻 Chapter 13 🔺 Chapter 14

End notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger/teaser? Stay tuned for more in the next chapter!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 12

Master told you to clean up and wait for further instructions - which come in unexpected ways.

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Nudity, public/supervised showering. Humiliation, degradation. Fem!dom! Obedience training, riding crops, bruising, corrective punishments, slapping. Mentions of figging! Hurt/no comfort. Pet play/dog bowls/cages. Mentions of implied self harm/suicide. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 5.5k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Just a heads-up: THERE WILL BE NO MASTER IN THIS CHAPTER! Instead, it'll focus on Reader's journey through Master's "kingdom" where she meets other dominant figures (two females). Master will be there in spirit and mentioned, but he won't be an active part of the following scenes.

Now. Yes, I still tagged this with various fandom tags BECAUSE this is part of the series, and I've used them since chapter 1, and I figured it's how you found this post/series, so please forgive me if this seems misleading. You can always skip this chapter if you only read this story to insert your favorite blorbo - Master will be back in the next chapter! (Or maybe you can insert different, not-tagged blorbos into the leading ladies instead? I didn't wanna slide into different tags altogether with just this one chapter; I'm already angering the fandom gods as it is, right? So, yeah, I hope you still enjoy this little side quest I sent Reader on, even if Master isn't present this time.)

Quick reminder that Reader is referred to as Doll, has female genitalia and hair long enough to braid, she is of age but no specific age is mentioned. Make her however you want her to be. Also: this is a hurt/no comfort story. Remember that.

Chapter 11 🔻 Chapter 12 🔺 Chapter 13

Finding the showers was another ordeal you hadn't expected. You had followed Master's directions, went (stumbled on shaky legs) along the hallway, but when you had turned a corner, you'd come across two of those burly men, not the same who had carried away Bird, but two who looked eerily similar. They were all wide and tall, mountains of muscles, always ready to wrestle any protesting girl into submission, probably. You didn't give them the chance, though, as you bowed your head, and asked meekly where you should clean up, ignoring how exposed you were, how filthy you felt, covered in spit and your own slick.

One of the men opened the door he was guarding and beckoned you to follow him. You did – more or less willingly, though he still kept looking over his shoulder to check if you were still there, while you fought the shame bubbling back up whenever his eyes wandered just a tad lower. He led you along another corridor lined with doors, then opened one on the left and motioned you inside. White tiles greeted you, and as you feared you'd walked back into the inspection room, the man followed you and closed the door behind him, positioning himself right in the door frame, blocking your way out.

You stared up at him, rubbing your arm as you tried to cover up. He tilted his head and you followed the nod, noticing the open stalls at the side of the room. Showers, finally! You didn't even care that there was no door or curtain, you just wanted to get clean again. You were about to turn, when you stopped, looking back at the burly man, feeling your stomach tightening after all.

“A-are you... going to stay there? Watching me?” you asked quietly.

“I have orders to ensure your safety,” he growled, crossing his thick arms in front of his wide chest.

“Ensure my safety? Do you expect me to slip in the shower and hit my head?” Somehow you felt safer questioning this man instead of the man you were supposed to call Master, and luckily, his henchman didn't seem to mind your attempt at defiance.

“Some girls find creative ways to end it,” he replied coldly, and you froze, your eyes widening.

End it? Blinking in confusion, you looked at the showers, swallowing hard as a cold shiver crashed down your spine. “I... I don't... I don't wanna... end it...” you muttered, not wanting to think more about the meaning of his words.

“I'm still gonna watch,” he grumbled. “So get moving, you have five minutes.”

“Eh?” A squeak escaped you, and another when you took a sudden step to the side, your foot sliding over the tiles. “What then? No more hot water?”

The man stared at you, before he barked out a laugh. “Hot water? You're funny. Get going, come on, I don't have all day!”

You frowned at him, slowly walking towards the furthest stall, hoping the partition wall gave you a bit of privacy. Unfortunately he noticed that too and took a step closer, freeing the door, but crowding the little space you thought you had.

“Your ribbon,” he then said, holding out his hand, palm up, and you stared at him in confusion before you followed the nod to the bow at the end of your braid.

“Oh,” you made, and gingerly slipped it off, your messy hair fraying open even more. You inhaled deeply before you placed the pink ribbon onto the man's palm. Drawing your hand back, you paused, then touched the wide collar adorning your neck. “What about this?”

“No need, the collar stays on at all times. Clean around it,” he told you impassively.

You frowned, slowly lowering your hand. “Okay...”

Then you turned away with a shaky sigh and concentrated on the task at hand: showering. There was only one valve on the wall. No detachable shower head, just a stationary one poking out of the ceiling. No soap, no shower gel, no shampoo. And with the burly man behind you, watching you like a hawk, you realized you might as well be in prison, and frankly, you weren't so far off the truth if you really thought about it (which you didn't want to).

Inhaling sharply, you turned the valve, and immediately jumped back with a shrill shriek as a jet of cold water hit your shoulder. Pressing to the wall, you looked towards the man, who had a stupid grin on his suddenly very punchable face. You gritted your teeth and focused back on the shower, telling yourself you had it way worse before. What was a cold shower compared to –

Ah fuck! As you stood under the icy stream, shivering badly, you considered staying dirty, covered in sweat and spit and tears and slick. Did it even matter? You'd probably get dirty again anyway, with whatever Master threw your way next. But you were his Doll, and Dolls clean up after themselves... Dolls are always spotless, perfect, ready for their Master, ready to serve him in any way possible. That was what he had told you, conditioned you to believe. And if you stayed dirty, he would punish you, you were absolutely sure.

So you endured the cold water, tried your best to wipe off the grime, let it rinse you from the top of your head all the way to your wriggling toes, while vehemently ignoring the man watching you. This was just another thing on the long list of humiliations, it really didn't matter anymore, did it? You just hoped he stayed there and didn't decide to join you... You had come to terms with being used by one man, and one man alone (even if he'd downright told you he would sell you off to others if they'd pay the right price, you just hoped he'd forget about that). You were not ready to be handed around like a piece of meat.

The thought made you clean up quicker, your heart already beating in your throat. A cough sounded behind you, and more than unwilling, you turned the shower off. Shivering, you rubbed at your wet skin, squeezed water out of your hair, before tentatively turning around, your eyes darting past the mountain of a man for any towels.

“No towels,” he told you with a growl and turned around to walk back to the door, planting himself right in front of the exit.

“What? Are you serious?” The words slipped past your lips without filter, and you realized you'd been a bit too confrontational. Suddenly the man was right in your face, not touching you, but leaning down, close enough that you felt his hot breath on your forehead.

“Do you want me to file a complaint?” he hissed darkly. “Anything else you're unhappy with?”

Where to start? you wanted to say, but kept quiet by clenching your jaw, narrowing your eyes at him. “I just don't want to leave water everywhere I go,” you replied instead, forcing yourself to sound neutral.

“Nobody cares about that where you're going,” he said, mirroring your scowl.

You blinked, taking a step back. “Where... where am I going?” you asked quietly, feeling your defiance slipping and anxiety bubbling up again.

“You'll see,” he grunted, giving you a lopsided smirk, before he straightened up and turned back to the door. “Come on, I'll show you.”

You were still shaking badly, the cold settling in your bones, as you followed the big man down the hallway. Everything looked so clean and sterile, concrete floor and white-washed walls, the fluorescent lights above you burning away any chance at a flattering shadow, the tapping of your naked feet quiet against the stomping steps of the man, who, you realized, was surprisingly professional after all. You were stark naked, so vulnerable, and yet he never even so much as teased at touching you inappropriately. Considering all the other things, it did give you a bit of comfort.

You didn't know how long you walked behind him, every corridor looked the same, with identical doors, unassuming, and no other indication where you were or what was ahead. Eventually he stopped, and before he pointed towards one of the doors, he held out his hand with the pink ribbon on it.

You had both arms tightly around your chest, to keep the cold at bay and to cover your breasts, so you just looked up at him in confusion. He held your gaze, stoic, neutral, before he suddenly rolled his eyes and stepped closer. You flinched away.

“Stay still,” he muttered, and you froze when he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around, then gathered your wet hair in his big hand and fixed the ribbon around it. The gesture was as confusing as it was nice. “There. Don't want to anger the ladies, right?”

You turned back around and frowned at him. “The ladies?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head and put a finger to his lips. “No more talking. Get back into your submissive stance or whatever you call that. They won't be as lenient with you as I was.”

Your eyebrows drew together in growing concern.

“Just do what they tell you,” he said, then stepped past you and opened the door. “Go on.”

You took a tentative step forward, your throat tightening up. Before you fully entered the bright room, you looked back at him, mouthing a “thank you”. He only nodded, and once you were inside, he closed the door behind you and you barely even heard his footsteps receding along the hallway.

There was a deafening silence in the small room you'd entered. More of the same concrete floor and boring white walls, no interior, just another door and a mirror on one wall. You didn't dare look at it, the glimpse you'd caught of yourself was already too disheartening. Hugging yourself tighter, you decided to just stand in the middle and wait. Nothing else you could do.

After a few minutes, the opposite door opened with a quiet squeak, and you flinched, gasping as you saw the figure emerging. It was a woman, her hair in a tight bun, wearing a white lab coat over a short black dress, strangely unfitting black high heels on her feet.

“Well, how nice of you to show up too,” she greeted you coldly, her eyes raking over your form. “Come on, everyone's waiting.”

Waiting? You swallowed hard, but quickly followed her into the next room. It felt warmer, the lights weren't as bright, the floor was tiled, but in a darker tone than you'd seen before. What you could see of the walls was painted black. The rest was adorned with high shelves full of boxes and the same kind of wooden structures you'd seen before in the punishment room: X-frames, T-frames, upside-down Y-frames, all with similar black leather cuffs dangling from them. Your heart sank. More of this?

The woman turned a corner, and you came to see another familiar view: the other girls. Or some of them; you recognized Dove, and the girls with the green and purple hair bow, but there were also others you hadn't seen before. They were all kneeling on the floor, with their legs spread and their arms behind their back, their chests out, eyes straight ahead, dull as ever. Nobody acknowledged you.

“Assume position,” the woman told you, pointing to the end of the line, and you inhaled sharply before you followed suit, kneeling down next to Dove, mirroring her pose.

It didn't get any easier to expose yourself to another stranger like that, but you still did as the woman had told you, ignoring the cold air brushing against your labia, swallowing your shame.

“Stay,” she then said, giving you a hard stare. Treated like a dog again. Something cold trickled down your back, might have been some water drops, might have been a new wave of humiliation, of fear, of the approaching numbness you hoped would come quicker.

You stayed in your position, forcing yourself to breathe evenly through your nose, eyes straight ahead. Which proved to be harder than you expected. Footsteps came from the right, shuffling, uncertain, and you watched how more girls were lined up like you were, their eyes as dull as the others. They knelt down on the opposite side, and while you searched the face of the girl in your line of sight, she didn't look back, eyes hooded and distant, but you did notice her shivering slightly as she assumed position.

Another woman joined the first, also wearing a white lab coat over a tight dress, equally precarious heels on her feet. They shared a short, quiet conversation, before they parted again, one of them coming to stand near the end of the line of girls, the other staying close to you. You wished you could look up and take in the whole scene, but you remained staring at the girl opposite you, trying to stay as calm as possible about whatever would happen next.

Focusing on your hurting knees might help. The floor was really unforgiving, and with your feet stretched like he had shown you, your whole weight really was centered on the instep of your feet and your shins, your legs folded tightly, your thighs straining with how you had to spread them apart. Your arms ached too, your fingers curled around your forearms, nails digging into your skin for extra support. Luckily you were too numb and distracted to feel the soreness within you as well.

“Alright then, everyone settled?” the woman closest to you suddenly said, cutting through the tense silence.

“Yes, mistress,” came a chorus of voices, and you startled and looked around, before you felt a sharp pain against your inner thigh that made you flinch and cry out, almost making you topple back.

You stared up at the woman and realized she was holding a riding crop, the bent leather strap on it having hit your thigh. She held your gaze, her face dark and knitted.

“When I ask you a question, you are to answer with 'yes, mistress',” she hissed at you. “Immediately! Understood?”

You gasped, then nodded quickly when she raised the riding crop again. “Y-yes, mistress!” you croaked out.

She inhaled and leaned back, running her fingers along the long hilt of the black item in her hand. “Exactly. I, we, and most importantly, your master, demand absolute obedience. No hesitation, no bargaining, no defiance. Any sign of disobedience will get punished. You are to follow every single order you are given. Understood?”

Another chorus of “yes, mistress” filled the room, and this time you joined in quickly, shaking slightly.

“Coming here, you have forfeited every right of individuality. You are no longer a person, you are an object. A toy, a plaything, a fuckdoll,” the woman went on, the tip of her riding crop teasing at your thigh again. She was addressing all the girls, but her eyes were on you, you could feel it, and it made you very nervous. “You don't have needs, or wants, or wishes. You do as you are told. Your purpose is to serve. There will be no tears, no acts of defiance, no bratty behavior. You are a body, a set of holes, and it is my, our, and most importantly, your master's right to use you however we want.”

More and more cold shivers crashed through you, and while you felt miserable hearing those words, there was a part of you that reacted differently, that sent a strange kind of heat into your lower belly, that tingled in your exposed cunt. And you felt even worse realizing how those degrading words affected you. How you wanted to stop existing as a person and just become a body for someone to use. No worries, no responsibilities, just letting others decide what was good for you.

There was still that other part of you, the almost numb one, the tiny voice in the back of your mind, that yelled at you, or tried to, for you to see reason, for you to fight this whole thing, for you to think about a way out. You knew you shouldn't just accept the circumstances, it wasn't right, you basically had been kidnapped and manipulated and forced into this kind of life, and you felt very bad for submitting to it so easily, but you were also painfully aware that you couldn't do a single thing about it anyway.

You were stripped, quite literally, of all the things that used to make you you, and after however long you'd been here, you were barely able to even remember your former life, the girl you'd been, the clumsy, reckless girl who decided it would be a good idea to get drunk and then drive her car into a stranger's taillight. None of that mattered anymore, you were now one of many, and maybe that also helped you in adjusting to your new situation.

There were so many other girls, similar to you, and maybe it was peer pressure or that inborn desire to be a part of something, to blend in, to belong, that allowed you to kneel naked on the floor with your cunt out and weeping while a dominant woman lectured you about obedience. Maybe it was exactly what you had needed all your life.

A sudden pain cut through your hazy thoughts, a shriek ripped from your sore throat. You flinched back, gaping up at the woman who had smacked her riding crop against your inner thigh again.

“Pay attention,” she hissed, staring at you darkly. “Or I'll smack your dirty cunt next!”

You shuddered, nodded meekly, lowering your head, but the woman hit your thigh again, eliciting another cry from you, before you felt the cold leather pressing against your chin, raising your head up. You met her gaze. Cold anger burned in her eyes.

“I-I'm sorry, mistress,” you whispered, the words bubbling up without revision, and instead of acknowledging your apology, she hit you again, really hard, the same spot, and you whined and tried to squirm away, a deep bruise forming on your soft flesh.

“You do not talk unless you are spoken to!” she said coldly. “If I hear another unprompted word out of that filthy mouth of yours, I will wash it out with soap!”

Your eyes widened as you snapped your mouth shut and pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to resume your position, ignoring the threat and the pain blooming under your skin. She gave you another glare, before she lowered her riding crop again, teasing at your thigh.

“Do you understand?” she asked slowly, as if talking to a child, and you nodded, your lips quivering.

“Y-yes, mistress,” you said barely audible, afraid you weren't supposed to answer, but she seemed content with your reply, and finally walked past you, giving her attention to another girl.

You took a shuddering breath and closed your eyes for a moment, your body tense, that bruise pulsing, and to your utter shame, you were so wet you felt it dripping onto the floor. You didn't want to analyze the reactions of your body, it would only confuse you more, so you stared straight ahead, staying alert and attentive, but slowly falling into a weird numbness, just accepting the things as they were.

The two women kept walking up and down the pathway between the kneeling girls, repeating their words, drilling it into you how you were not a person but a set of holes, how you were supposed to do whatever you were told, and any kind of disobedience would be punished. You agreed when asked for it, you remained quiet when they didn't need an answer, you met their gaze when they focused on you, you let them correct your posture however they wanted when your shoulders sagged or your chin slipped.

You relaxed when they darted in on another girl, when they smacked thighs and slapped faces at the tiniest sign of inattentive behavior. It went on for a long time, and while you remained stiff in your position, it became harder and harder to pay attention. Your stomach gave off an angry gurgle at one point, and it earned you another smack to the thigh, that single bruise on your soft flesh blooming bright purple by now.

By the end of it you were close to tears, from the stinging pain, your unnatural position, and exhaustion, and most girls looked about the same when you dared a look around the room. But the women weren't done.

“You,” one of them suddenly said and pointed her riding crop at the girl next to you. You flinched, but Dove just tilted her chin up at the woman and waited for a command. “Change of position. Lean on your knees and sit up, arms remain behind your back, feet outstretched.”

The girl moved quickly, and it looked so easy for her to lean forward and center her weight on her knees, while the idea alone made you shiver in anticipated pain.

“Good,” the woman praised. “Now copy her,” she addressed the others, and you had to force yourself to move and assume the same position, and the feared discomfort was even worse than you had thought. Now all your weight rested on your knees, and the hard floor didn't make it any easier. You swallowed the noise that was bubbling up in your throat.

Sitting on your knees like that caused your chest to pop out more and allowed the women to brush their hands over your exposed breasts. They walked through the girls and inspected each and every soft mound, but not in the way you'd expected. They gripped them roughly, pinched nipples, pulled on them, slapped the softer sides, really tested your and the girls' endurance. But you bit down on your tongue and let them, tried not to flinch when their pointy nails dug into your skin or scraped over your sensitive buds.

They did three rounds of that, always exchanging degrading comments about the shape and size of some of the girls' busts, but the moment you felt your resilience slip was when they mentioned piercings.

“For now you are to remain unblemished, pure as can be, mostly at least, but don't think you're safe from modifications,” the woman closest to you said, looking around the room while her hand was still cupped around your left breast. “If you were to be sold to a special client and that client demands alterations, you will have your nipples pierced or clamped or both, and you will not cry about it, you will accept it. Your body is no longer yours. I, we, and most importantly, your master decide what we do to it.”

She finished by slapping your breast hard, her flat palm leaving a stinging sensation against your nipple, and you couldn't help but flinch, so tense from her words, you were unable to hold your position. As you slumped back, she quickly hooked her finger into the hoop of your collar and pulled you back up, then closed her hand around your throat and squeezed.

“Are you tired, slut?” she asked darkly, and that tiny voice in the back of your mind wanted to tell her you were not a slut, you were a doll, Master's Doll, and she shouldn't be treating you like this, but you only stared at her, then shook your head.

“No, mistress,” you breathed.

The force of her flat hand to your cheek made your head whip around, a voiceless gasp escaping you before the pain crashed through your face, your skin pulsing, a whine stuck in your throat.

“Do not lie to me!” she spat. “You can barely sit up anymore.”

“On the ground, slut,” the other woman said and stepped behind the one holding you by the neck. “Face down, ass up, arms behind your back.”

Once you were released, your heart skipped several beats as you scrambled to do what she had told you, trying to ignore the throbbing pain and her cold words. You pressed your warm cheek to the cold tiles, body folding up accordingly, ass raised as instructed, fingernails digging into the skin of your forearms as you held onto your arms, deep shivers crashing through you as one of the women stepped behind you.

“So, how can we wake you up, hm?” she asked quietly, her riding crop rubbing along the curve of your rear.

“A good spanking?” the other woman suggested. “The cane always wakes these tired sluts up.”

“We're not supposed to damage them,” the one behind you sighed. “And I'm not using my hand on her filthy skin.”

“How about figging?”

A hum came from the woman with the riding crop, the hard leather tracing along the cleft between your ass cheeks, poking at your puckered hole. You held your breath. “Figging? Good idea. Doesn't leave any marks, but the burn will definitely wake her up. Do you think she can handle the pain?”

You had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn't sound like the kind of punishment you wanted. Frankly, you didn't want any kind of punishment.

“Are you a pain slut?” she then asked, and you hesitated before she smacked the riding crop against your hole, making you flinch and cry out. You weren't sure if you should answer or not, but luckily the other woman interrupted any attempt at speaking anyway.

“Doesn't look like it. Too flinchy. Check her cunt.”

Suddenly you felt something hard pressing between your folds, like a rigid stick teasing at your entrance. A “tsk” came to your ear. “Look what she did to my riding crop, slick all over it. So fucking wet, maybe she is into pain after all? Huh, slut? You want a piece of peeled ginger up your butt and find out?”

You shivered, even more so when a few quiet gasps sounded around you. You still had no idea what she meant, but you also didn't want to find out. So you shook your head. A hand grabbed the back of your collar and pulled you up, choking you as you had to lean back on your knees. Black spots danced at the edge of your vision before she released you, allowed you a few deep gasps. Then she pressed the wet end of her riding crop against your lips.

“Clean,” she said harshly, and you quickly parted your lips and licked your own slick off the leathery surface, tears burning in the corners of your eyes.

Once you were done, she pushed you back down, your cheek meeting the tiles again. Somewhere in the far distance, a strange ringing sound echoed through the ground. Both women sighed.

“Well, aren't you a lucky slut, we ran out of time. No figging for you tonight,” one of them said.

“Everyone, stand,” the other one bellowed, and the girls around you shuffled into their new position. “You too, or do you need an extra invitation?”

Her pointy shoe nudged the side of your head, and you quickly squirmed away, getting up on shaking legs and joining the other girls in standing with your arms still behind your back. You could barely keep the shivers down now.

“Follow,” the woman with the riding crop said, pointing the long object towards the other woman who was holding open a door at the back of the room.

The girls fell into a line and slowly filed out onto a narrow hallway. You followed with your head spinning, limbs trembling, heart racing, still unsure what had just happened and what you were saved from enduring. You didn't want to think about it, so you didn't.

You ended up in another large room, this one tiled in white, the sound of a bunch of bare-footed girls shuffling through it echoing off the sterile walls. You didn't dare look left or right, you just stared at the folded arms of the girl in front of you, noticing how she had deep crescent-shaped cuts all around her wrists, where she had held onto her arms with a force you could relate to very well. Despite their calm demeanor and dull eyes, you realized they were all just as anxious as you were about their (new) situation.

Not a person, just a body, no thoughts, just following orders.

The words repeated in your head, but the small voice was still there, keeping the fight alive, the doubts and worries, the injustice of it all, yet the fear of disobeying and getting punished for it was also bubbling just beneath the surface, keeping you in a constant state of wanting to be good and wanting to break out of your confines. It was exhausting.

Add to that the constant humiliation of being naked and treated like a mindless body, and you wished you could really empty your mind and become the doll you were supposed to be.

“Alright, pets, eat up,” the voice of a woman echoed through the room, and for the first time you looked around, realizing you had been moved to a row of bowls standing on the tiled floor. That again. Another shade of humiliation that burned low in your guts.

Yet when the girls around you fell to their knees and crawled towards their designated bowls, you had no choice but to do the same, and while it hurt and felt even more degrading than having your breasts groped or cunt inspected, the hunger that tightened your stomach gave you the necessary strength to pull through. You waddled to the bowl closest to you, on your hands and knees, and when you curled up in front of it, you noticed it was warm and steaming and smelled surprisingly good.

It was some kind of hearty soup, and you leaned over the warm bowl and inhaled deeply, letting the steam dry the tears you were too exhausted to notice anymore, before you extended your tongue and started lapping at it. It was very unpleasant to eat like that, messy and mortifying, but you were too hungry to fight it, to think too much about it. All around you, the other girls did the same, and that alone eased your worries a little.

It still didn't stop new tears from running down your soup-covered cheeks, exhaustion and humiliation finally catching up to you. You kept eating, sobbing quietly, forcing through the degrading act, ignoring the aches of your body. There was a tense silence in the room, until the voice from earlier called for you to finish up.

“Go and clean your faces when you're done,” the woman said (a different one from the two who'd taught you about obedience). She sounded a bit softer, nicer, even laughed almost goodheartedly as she corrected a girl who tried to get to her feet. “Oh no, stay on your hands and knees. You are pets, remember? And pets stay on all fours on the floor. Go on, it's right there.”

You were itching to use your hands to wipe at your soiled face, but you were too intimidated to even try. So you followed the line of crawling girls to the other side of the room, where large water troughs stood, and forcing the thought carousel down, you followed suit and simply dumped your face into the water, before you emerged with a gasp and rubbed your wet cheeks on the towel that was hanging from the wall above it.

“Now back to your cages,” the woman chimed. Again you simply followed the others out of the room, still on your hands and knees, it was slow and it hurt, and you felt more tears burning in your eyes.

A hissing sound indicated the opening of a door, and you found yourself in a more or less familiar room. The same room you'd woken up in, cramped into a tiny cage. You were still crying soundlessly as you made your way to your own cage, which you would have never found if it wasn't for the pink ribbon attached to the top bars. You crawled into it, the soft blanket such a nice change to the hard floor.

You were so glad about the comfort that you barely registered the door snapping shut behind you, locking you in. Didn't matter. Your aches were more important. Your knees had never hurt this much, though you knew there were probably more ways to make them really ache. Not that you wanted to think about that.

You curled up as best you could, and while you were exhausted, your mind still wouldn't stop spinning, looping around all the things you'd experienced and endured today (and before that), and what you might have to face tomorrow. When you eventually fell asleep, there was too much to process, so your subconscious mind only focused on the words of the man who had watched you showering:

Some girls find creative ways to end it.

Chapter 11 🔻 Chapter 12 🔺 Chapter 13

End notes: Sorry for the dark ending. It'll be better in the next chapter. At least a little bit.

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 11

You endure the rest of Master's training session, watching him handing out rewards and punishments, and eventually... something you haven't expected.

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Voyeurism/cuckqueaning. Anal sex/creampie. Oral sex/deepthroating. Sex toys/dildo gags. (Public) assisted masturbation. Rimming. Squirting. Implied punishment. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 2.9k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: As always, for more information on Master (and why I tagged this the way I did) and Reader, check the Author's Notes in chapter 1.

Chapter 10 🔻 Chapter 11 🔺 Chapter 12

After he had finished inside the girl's ass, he'd given her a proper spanking, while still inside her, and you had watched him grow hard again under her constant clenching (as you fought your own flinches and the growing need to release that awful tension in your lower stomach). With her ass cheeks burning bright red, he had finally released her, pulling back and out and climbing off the table to put himself away, or so you had thought.

Instead he walked around the table, his cock bobbing against the hem of his shirt, glistening, and when he reached the poor girl battling the aftermath of his relentless pounding, he had unbuckled her gag and pulled the yellow dildo out of her throat. She coughed for a solid minute, really struggling, and while he had waited for a moment, he quickly rolled her onto her backside the second she drew a more steady breath.

It was cruel to watch how he pulled her towards the edge of the table, let her head hang off it, before he shoved his cock into her mouth, plugging her up all over again. She squirmed, her legs kicking, her hands flailing and failing to find anything to hold onto as he started fucking her throat in the same rough rhythm as he'd fucked her ass. His hands held her head in place, and he didn't care that with every deep thrust that bulged her neck, he pressed his balls against her nose and cut off her breathing.

You felt tears burning in your eyes as you observed the scene in front of you, another shade of his sadism to witness, and you felt especially bad that you were glad it wasn't you on that table, reward or not, it taught you to stay average, to never be especially eager, to fly under his radar, because otherwise, his attention might just break you.

It didn't break the girl with the yellow bow in her hair, as she slowly came to terms with the rough handling, her hands coming to rest on her swinging breasts as he kept pounding against her face. They fell into a rhythm, and fortunately for all parties involved, he didn't drag it out like he'd done before. He came with another low groan that vibrated through the air and right into your throbbing clit, letting you clench hard around the dildo still stuck in your cunt. You wanted to swallow, but with your gag still in place, all you could do was let the drool flow and gather on your already slick thighs.

The girl's kicking legs relaxed, and she slowly deflated on the table, her rasping, almost soundless breaths filling the tense silence in the room. He pulled out of her throat, wiping his still leaking cockhead on her lips, and she even darted her tongue out and licked him clean, and you wished you could do that, taste him, feel him throbbing against your own tongue.

It was strange how you wanted one thing but hated thinking about another. You could do without the rough face fucking, but you'd love to feel his warm cum in your mouth, sliding down your sore throat. You'd prefer not to get a hard ass pounding, but you still wanted to have his cock inside you, filling you out, stretching you, his cum dripping from your hole afterwards. It was as confusing as it was concerning.

Lost in your contradicting thoughts again, you barely registered how he walked around the table now and released the girls from their dildo gags until he reached you. His fingers fumbled with the buckle before the pressure was gone and he slowly pulled the pink toy from your mouth, your drool following in thick strands. You swallowed instinctively, rasping breaths gurgling in your freed throat. His hand found your face as he turned your head to meet his gaze.

As soon as you looked into his handsome face, the words bubbled up without prompt. “Thank you, master.” He nodded, a tiny twinkle in his dark eyes, a sign of recognition, of pride? You took it, whatever it was.

He let go of you and threw the soiled gag onto the table, onto the pile of colorful toys, right between the spread legs of the girl still lying there. You noticed that the yellow dildo was still stuck in her cunt, and you marveled at her strength to hold it there during all the things she had to endure.

“Dove!” his voice suddenly rang through the room, interrupting the quiet coughs and raspy breaths of the girls around the table. The girl with the white ribbon in her braid looked up.

“Yes, master?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Time for your reward,” he told her, leaning on his arms at the head of the table. “Turn around, pet, and let Dove eat your ass.”

His vile words made you flinch, but the girls in questions simply did what they were told. The girl on the table rolled onto her stomach and raised her ass up, ass cheeks still bright red from his spanking, the dildo poking out of her cunt, while a thick dollop of Master's cum leaked from her puckered hole.

“Make her come while you're at it,” he added, leaning back to allow Dove to climb onto the table and assume position behind the other girl, her hands tentatively curling around Pet's thighs as she slowly pushed her face against the waiting girl's rear.

You looked away immediately, a cold shiver crashing through you. Now it felt too intimate, too unexpected, to watch these two girls together. You could have watched him fuck any of the other girls on this table, but somehow it felt strange to witness one girl poke her tongue into the other's asshole and lick up the spend he'd left behind. Frankly, it wasn't shame or disdain (you had enjoyed watching lesbian porn before, it wasn't that), it just felt too real, and it made you realize that, if he ever gave you the exact same command, you had to do it too, or endure it from somebody else. You were not just his servant, pleasing him, you were his plaything, his doll to manipulate and play with, however he wanted.

And if he wanted to watch two girls getting it on, he would make it happen. He held all the strings, and you were just a puppet, you and all the other girls following his every whim.

Slurping sounds filled the room, and you squirmed on your chair, your fingers still curled around the edge of the table, holding on, trying to distract yourself as you stared at your soiled lap. Of course he didn't like that.

“Eyes straight ahead, doll,” he scolded from the side, and you looked up, first at him, then at the girl kneeling behind the other with her face shoved between her reddened ass cheeks.

Her hand was on the yellow dildo now, and she was moving it in and out of the other girl's wet cunt slowly, creating those distracting squelching sounds, and the girl who had endured a rough ass pounding and face fucking, shook on her knees, soundlessly gasping, shivering, succumbing to the pleasure building up inside her. You watched, fighting your own sensations all over again, but you still noticed the man walking around the table, unscrewing the white dildo from the now vacant chair.

He stepped back to the head of the table, and without warning, he pressed the toy into Dove's pussy. She gasped into Pet's ass, halting the flicking of her wrist, but as soon as he started pumping the object into her, she mirrored the motion with the yellow dildo, falling into a steady rhythm that had both girls shaking badly.

“M-master,” the girl with the white bow cried out between licking and prodding her tongue into the other's rear. “P-please... m-may I... may I come?” she managed to croak out.

“No,” he said, and you felt the rejection in your own cunt, the need for release growing by the second.

Dove whined but resumed her ministrations, kept the pace of ramming the dildo into Pet's squelching cunt.

“Pet first, then you,” he added after a moment of letting her suffer, while not even reducing the speed of his own motions.

She let out a happy squeal and doubled her efforts, eagerly sucking and licking while pumping the toy faster, and it didn't take long until the girl in front of her shuddered, then stilled, then convulsed badly, her flat hands slapping the table top as she came hard, squirting all over Dove's hand and the table, her mouth wide open while no sound came out.

You watched with your lip between your teeth, to keep your own moans hidden. You wanted to feel like she felt so badly, you didn't even care about the humiliation of squirting and coming undone completely, you needed it, desperately. It got even worse when you had to watch the other girl's orgasm too, hers came slower, accompanied by quiet sobs, her back arching as she pressed her rear into Master's hand who held the dildo inside her as she contracted around it. She didn't squirt, but she still convulsed, her stomach fluttering, legs shaking, toes curling.

Both girls slowly deflated, and when he stepped back and pulled the white silicone out, Dove did the same to Pet's, her cheek resting against the reddened ass cheek of the girl in front of her as she panted hard.

“Get off the table and sit down on your chairs,” he said sternly, picking up both used toys to put them to the pile on the table.

The girls followed suit, albeit slow and unsteady, their limbs shaking from the aftermaths of their orgasms. How you wished you were one of them. But you remained sitting on your own dildo, buried deep, clenched tightly by your cunt, not allowed to experience the same pleasures. Dove and Pet took their now dildo-less seats, and while you thought they might deflate and relax, they sat up straight with their chests out and their eyes on the man leaning against the head of the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Alright, successful session, wouldn't you say?” he asked and looked around the room. “Well, mostly, hm, bird?” he added as his eyes landed on the girl farthest away from you, who despite being rid of her gag still had the reddest face and most bloodshot eyes, looking as miserable as humanly possible. “What is it? You're not looking forward to your punishment?” he teased, tilting his head. “I thought you always enjoyed a good beating, and being strapped to a fucking machine all day? Come on, you've done that before, many times. Think of all the orgasms you're allowed to have.”

The girl only let out a strangled sob.

“Hmm, okay, maybe I have to switch it up a bit, you're right,” he said quietly, rubbing his chin. “Let's scratch the beating, and we'll add a third arm to the machine, one for your throat, hm? Seeing how you struggled today, you are clearly in need of more training. So don't worry, I'll take care of that,” he added, and you noticed him pulling out his phone, while Bird used his short attention shift to swallow a wet gurgle emerging from her throat.

Now you felt really bad for her, and you figured you might have read her wrong. She clearly didn't like his attention after all, so she definitely didn't do any of her mistakes on purpose. Her misery really tightened your stomach, and it got only worse when the door to the room suddenly opened and two burly men entered. Every girl suddenly sat straighter, their attention fixed on the pile of used toys on the table, except yours as you openly stared at the men when they approached the girl with the blue bow in her braid.

Her face grew even redder when she opened her mouth, and you half-expected her to scream her lungs out, but no words of protest came past her trembling lips, and you remembered that without her vocal chords she wasn't able to produce a single sound, only desperate gurgling noises from deeper in her throat. A cruel thing to name her Bird when she wasn't even allowed to sing. One of the men grabbed her under her arms and pulled her up and off the dildo on her chair, and she thrashed and kicked her legs but those were grabbed by the other man, both of them holding the agitated girl without so much as a twitch on their stoic faces.

“Bird, behave!” Master scolded, staring at her across the room. “Don't fight it. Enjoy. I'll see you tomorrow.”

The girl kept wailing soundlessly as she was carried away, crying and squirming, and the knots grew in your guts as the door fell shut behind her and the men, leaving the room in a very tense silence. You could only imagine (thanks to his ability to paint a proper image in your head) what she was facing now, and you hated thinking about it. The poor girl.

Once again you felt shame for being glad it wasn't you.

Swallowing hard, you barely dared to move after witnessing that turn of events, but when he cleared his throat, you followed what the remaining girls were doing and looked towards him with bated breath.

“Anyone else?” he simply asked and looked around the table. Nobody moved. They barely dared to blink. He sighed. “Fine. You did good. Quite surprisingly,” he added, his gaze wandering to you. You met it, stiffening under his scrutiny. He looked away first and addressed the room again. “We'll resume your training in a few days. For now, you are dismissed. Go clean up and wait for further instructions.”

A shuffle went through the girls, who eagerly stood up as if they hadn't just sat on a thick dildo for what felt like a very long time. When you tried, you felt a bit of resistance, your muscles dragging along the rigid toy, clinging to it, and it hurt. Wincing, you sat back down, breathing harder. Panic surged through you as you realized the others were already leaving, filing out through another door, while you were the last at the table.

With him. He gathered the toys in a big plastic box, before he paused and looked at you with his eyebrow raised.

You froze, staring at him. “I... I'm... I'm sorry, m-master,” you stammered, trying again to stand up. As you flinched again, he was with you, his hand heavy on your shoulder as he pushed you back down. He leaned over you, his other hand rubbing right between your thighs, finding your clit, and you gasped, instinctively grabbing his forearm as your eyes widened. “N-no, p-please...”

He shushed you, shaking his head, his eyes boring into yours, his face so close you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. “Relax,” he whispered, and you were confused by his sudden change in demeanor. He kept rubbing tight circles around that throbbing bundle of nerves, and you gasped more, feeling your cunt clenching around the dildo you were stuck on, that tension growing stronger again, the heat flaring up, that scorching wetness gathering low in your body, and you were close, so close, but then his fingers slipped lower and pushed between your tight muscles and the rigid toy, and you flinched at the sudden stretch. “Stand up now,” he told you quietly, and you did, slowly, realizing he was holding you open so your cunt let go of the long object it had grown so fond of.

And then you were empty, on shaking legs, your wetness seeping onto his fingers before he pulled them back too, wiping them on your fluttering stomach. He straightened up and gave you another long look, and as you blushed deeply, you bit your lip and bowed your head, averting your eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, genuinely grateful for his assistance, and you hoped it wouldn't come with any conditions. He grabbed your chin, and you were surprised to find a smile on his lips.

“It's normal,” he said, nodding to the pink dildo attached to the chair. “You're not the first to get stuck. It'll get easier.”

You swallowed. “Okay,” you breathed. He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip, watching you with a strange intensity. You felt conflicted all over again. It was just a small moment though, before he let go of you and stepped away, starting to remove the used toys from the seats of the chairs.

“Go clean up now,” he said. “Take the door to the right and follow the hallway. Remember, no coming, just cleaning. I'll know,” he added with a wink as you started following his directions. You nodded shyly.

“Yes, master,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

He waved you off and turned away, and you walked to the door and left the dining room and everything that had happened here behind. All of it, even the good things. You couldn't allow yourself to get distracted by the very rare nice moments he gave you, it would make the bad ones only worse.

Chapter 10 🔻 Chapter 11 🔺 Chapter 12

End notes: Was that... a hint of humanity you just witnessed? Don't get used to it.

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 10

Master has planned another training session for you, and this time, you are not alone.

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Sex toys. Dildo gags. Public humiliation, public (assisted) masturbation, public (anal) sex. Voyeurism/cuckqueaning. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 7.3k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: As always, for more information on Master (and why I tagged this the way I did) and Reader, check the Author's Notes in chapter 1.

Chapter 9 🔻 Chapter 10 🔺 Chapter 11

You found yourself in a dining room. A luxurious but somewhat old-fashioned one, with dark wood paneling on the walls accentuated with patterned wallpaper, broken up by oil paintings of landscapes and fruit and the occasional portrait of a man that somehow reminded you of the man you were supposed to call Master. There were sideboards on one wall, laden with all kinds of strange trinkets, the gatherings of a collector, and larger cabinets on the other, holding the finest china, and in the middle of the room, right under a fancy chandelier, stood the biggest dining table you'd ever seen.

Yet the weirdest thing about the whole scene were the naked girls standing behind the chairs arranged around the table. There were five of them, all as naked as you, all wearing the same collar, their hair in the same braid, with only the color of the ribbons holding them together to distinguish them. You recognized the two girls you'd met before, the one with the blue bow, who the man had called Bird (who'd had her fingers in your throat), and the one with the yellow ribbon, Pet (who'd had her whole hand in your cunt).

The other three girls had a purple bow, a green one and a white one, respectively. As you looked down at your own, a silky ribbon in bright pink, you heard muffled footsteps approaching you. A hand brushed against your shoulder, and you snapped your head to the side, looking up at the man. Your master.

“Stand up, doll, and join the others,” he told you, and you quickly scrambled to your feet and took the last empty spot on the left side. There were no chairs facing the head of the table nor the foot, so you presumed you took the right spot. The girls beside you didn't move or acknowledge you in any way. Their eyes seemed hazy, dull, they looked so stiff and tense, and you wondered why.

It was when you grabbed the back of the chair that your eyes fell onto the contents lying on the table. Your heart sank instantly. There were gags, six in total, thick leather bands with straps and buckles, and attached to each of them was an inward-facing, colored silicone dildo, mirroring the colors of the ribbons present. The pink one, yours presumably, was one of the shorter ones, but the blue one was particularly long. You shivered just trying to imagine what exactly he had planned with those.

The man cleared his throat, and suddenly all five girls turned their heads and looked towards him, and you followed suit soon after, a little startled by their sudden attentiveness. He was leaning on his arms, his eyes moving from one girl to the next, his handsome face as impassive as ever. The chandelier cast eerie shadows over his features, turning the slight smirk he had into a diabolical grin. You gripped the back of the chair in front of you until your knuckles blanched.

“Let's start, then, shall we?” he said, straightening up. “Take your seats,” he added, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You noticed he no longer wore his suit jacket, and the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up, exposing strong forearms. Suddenly he met your eyes, catching you staring, his gaze darkening. “Do you need a special invitation, doll?” he asked you menacingly, and before you could protest and finally follow his initial command (which the other girls were already halfway through following), he took a few steps and nudged you aside to pull your chair away from the table.

A muffled cacophony of gasps and labored breaths rang in your ears, and in the same moment that your eyes fell onto the seat of the chair, you noticed what the other girls tried to do around you. There was another silicone dildo attached to the chair, sporting the same color as your ribbon. It looked long and girthy, and you froze on the spot as you realized what he had asked of you – and the others, who also struggled to sit down on their chairs/dildos.

“Is there a problem?” he asked you, standing so close you could feel his body heat (that did nothing to repel the chills crashing through you). You swallowed, looking from him to the large item you were supposed to sit on.

“N-no, m-master,” you stammered, slowly walking around the chair, your heart beating faster.

You took your time, unconsciously stalling to fulfill his command, as your eyes moved along the table to see how the other girls were faring. Pet, the girl with the yellow ribbon, was already sitting, looking as nonchalant about it as possible. Next to her the girl with the white bow just sank down too, a quiet sigh escaping her as she impaled herself on the dildo. The others were struggling, two of them slowly fucking themselves onto their toys, while Bird, the one with the blue ribbon, only hovered over her seat, her face knitted and flushed, her hands braced on the table, her arms shaking.

The man noticed her too, but he remained standing next to you. “Hurry up, bird, or I'll come over and help you.” He made it sound like a threat, and you knew he probably meant it as one as well. Somehow, he seemed to give you a bit more leeway than the others, with you being the newest girl here, or so you assumed, but you still didn't want him to help you, so you positioned yourself over the dildo, trying to relax, forcing your breaths as even as possible, forcing your mind to shut up and dismiss the humiliation of the whole situation, as you slowly lowered yourself, ignoring the wobble of your legs or the fluttering of your stomach.

You thought back to humping his shoe and how you'd come all over it, how he'd fingered you during his inspection and pulled all those orgasms out of you, and luckily, your cunt remembered too, clenching in anticipation, and when you slowly bent your knees, feeling the rigid tip pressing between your folds, you seemed to be wet enough to allow the toy inside more or less easily. It slipped in easily enough, but you'd underestimated its length, so while you felt it pushing deeper until it met a bit of resistance, you were still a bit away from touching the wooden seat.

Breathing harder, you mimicked what the other girls had done and moved up and down a bit, fucking yourself open, and that act alone had you teetering on the edge (while simultaneously increasing your shame as you realized what you were doing and who could see you). It was a balancing act, both figuratively and literally, as you struggled to fight the pleasure and humiliation of it. Biting your tongue to keep the moans down, you knew this was not an exercise in coming, you just had to sit down, and you'd probably evoke his wrath if you did anything else (especially since the other girls just sat on theirs, all except Bird anyway, and looked quite chill about it too).

While you were still trying to fit all of the dildo inside you, the man suddenly left your side and walked around the table to the other struggling girl. You froze, watching them, and for the tiniest moment you met the girl's wide eyes, before her chin was grabbed and she was forced to look up at the man. His other hand moved between her legs, and you saw her flinching when he cupped her mound and pushed his fingers between her folds. He stared at her while he fucked her on his fingers, and you witnessed how the girl tried to hold eye contact as her legs started trembling.

And suddenly, with one swift motion, he let go of her cunt, gripped the toy, lined it up, and with his other hand pushed the girl down. She issued a soundless gasp (and you remembered she couldn't make any noise without her vocal chords, the poor thing), her face contorting in pain, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as she shrunk onto the chair, her stomach fluttering, chest quivering, before she slowly straightened up, forcing herself to breathe through the pain of being impaled by a dildo that was probably way too big for her.

The scene disturbed you deeply, and yet, to your own shame, it had opened you right up, arousal flooding your body as you slowly, gently, sank down on your own dildo, feeling it filling you out as you settled on it, trying to make the whole experience as comfortable as possible. You felt bad for Bird, but you felt worse that you had used her pain to your advantage. This whole place was starting to rub off on you. And you didn't like it.

Now all girls, you included, were sitting on their chairs with their toys inside them, and the man continued walking around the table, his hand brushing along shoulders and fingering the different colored ribbons.

“Now that you're all settled, let's continue,” he said, returning to the head of the table, his eyes darting from one girl to the next. He still had all of their attention, even though their faces all looked a lot more flushed, some were still struggling. You just tried not to move and acknowledge the stiff toy inside you. One girl, however, looked as impassive as before, and it was Pet. And he had noticed. “Take a look at you, pet, ambitious as ever. You were the first to sit down properly, well done.”

The girl in question bowed her head and gave him a shy smile. You bet she would have thanked him for that, but like Bird, she also couldn't speak anymore. You wondered why he had decided to remove their vocal chords in the first place, and why the other girls all still had theirs. Maybe Pet and Bird had been the first girls to come here, the ones he'd experimented on more? You wouldn't put it past him to try out the more depraved things on a select few of the many girls he'd gathered over however long he had done this.

But in all honesty, you didn't even want to think about it all too much. You didn't need to learn his reasons or the history of how it had started, how many girls there were, what had happened to them, it didn't matter. It wouldn't help you in any way to know more. All you had to do was endure and survive.

“Come collect your reward, pet,” you heard his voice through your thoughts, and it grounded you, pulled you back to the present, the current task to live through. “Pick up your gag on the way here,” he added, and your attention moved back to the items lying in the middle of the table. You gulped audibly.

Pet, however, had stood up again, the yellow toy glistening in her wetness, swaying after she'd slipped off it, and before she joined the man at the head of the table, she leaned over and grabbed the yellow gag, her face a little more flushed, but otherwise as passive as before. She didn't meet your eyes.

“Eyes on me, girls,” the man addressed them, and everyone looked back at him, you included, both curious and anxious what kind of reward he was giving to the girl with the yellow bow. “Look closely now. Pet here will show you what to do with those gags I prepared for you.”

Breaths hitched around the table, and you felt your throat tightening in anticipation. You watched, more than unwilling, how the girl stood with her stomach pressed to the head of the table, the man tall and intimidating behind her, his hands on her shoulders, and when she raised the gag to her face, you held your breath. She looked so nonchalant about it, too, that was even more unnerving than the task itself.

The yellow silicone attached to the gag pressed between her lips as she grabbed it tightly, her tongue darting out to wet the tip, before she started pumping it slowly into her mouth, in and out, eyes hooded, an almost mechanical gesture as if she'd done it many times before, and you kept observing her, frozen in place, the toy inside your cunt forgotten as your stomach tensed. Eventually she pushed the dildo deeper, tilting her chin up to allow it easier access into her throat, and you could see it bulging, her collar tightening, as she shoved it in all the way, but instead of gagging or pulling back, she held it between her teeth as she started attaching the leather straps around her head to hold it in place.

“What a good pet, look at her, beautiful throat work, well done,” he praised her again, rubbing her shoulders as she lowered her hands, her body tense and rigid, but she still looked so calm about having a dildo stuck in her throat.

You couldn't imagine doing the same, and the thought alone made you very anxious (while it also made your cunt clench around the toy you were resting your weight on). Daring a look around the table, you saw that most of the girls seemed to think similarly, their eyes darting towards the gags in front of them, their jaws tense, their eyes red, their shoulders shaking slightly. Bird was still crying soundlessly, but she looked a lot more distant.

“Before I give Pet her well-earned reward, it's your turn,” he then said, and you felt goosebumps rippling over your skin. “Grab your gag and get accustomed to it. You all had similar things in your throats before, so don't worry too much. I'll be here to supervise, nobody is going to choke today. Not even you, Bird,” he added, and you looked over to the girl with the blue bow, who was gingerly turning the long dildo between her fingers. Hers was by far the longest. It sounded almost mocking when he acknowledged that fact to the others. “Did you see that you have the longest one today? Why? Because you deserve it, and I know you can do it. Your throat was made to swallow all kinds of cocks, it's only fair you train it the most. Go on. All of you, proceed.”

A shuffle went around the table as every girl grabbed their respective dildo gag. You reached your hand out very hesitantly. The toy felt softer than you had expected, was more flexible too, which gave you a bit of hope. But the mere idea of holding that thing in your mouth, poking it into your throat, gave you the worst shivers. You remembered the times you had his cock in there, and how you had gagged and choked on it, your body convulsing uncontrollably, and you had hated it. And yet, now, in the presence of five other girls having to do the same thing, while sitting on a thick dildo, under his guidance and supervision, you hoped it would be better.

It was strangely comforting to know you were all enduring the same kind of training (or torture?), it didn't feel as humiliating as you had initially thought. You were just one of many, facing the same task, surviving together, pleasing the same man. And you had to admit, the praises he had shared with Pet did something to you. You wanted to hear the same things said about you. It would make it even easier. Maybe it was your competitive nature or a hint of jealousy, whatever it was, it drove you to raise the pink silicone to your mouth, part your lips and extend your tongue.

And as you licked along the fake ridges of the toy, you looked over to the man whose cock you had serviced before, and the memory, as humiliating and uncomfortable as it had been, helped you focus on the task and the task alone. You ignored the gurgling and gagging noises erupting all around you as the other girls struggled to fit their dildos into their mouths and throats, all you did was watch the man standing behind the motionless form of the girl with the yellow bow, as he observed his collection of girls, and when his eyes landed on yours, a mixture of hot and cold shivers crashed through you, stunning you for a moment, before you continued pumping the toy into your mouth, holding his dark gaze.

You pressed your tongue to the fake veins, more and more saliva pooling in your mouth and dripping past your lips, down your chin, onto your chest and lap, but you didn't care, you stared at him, worked the toy deeper, confident you could do it just like Pet had done, eager to hear his praise, and yet when the hard tip of the dildo all but brushed against the back of your throat, your body convulsed before you could stop it, and you gagged badly, spit filling your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut and burned up with tears, your lungs aching, body jerking, that damn toy stuck in your clenching cunt doing the rest, and you ripped the dildo out of your mouth and gasped, spluttered, quickly turning your head away in shame at your failed attempt at earning his praise.

“Keep going,” you heard his voice, and while he spoke to all the struggling girls, it felt personal. “This is your training. You don't have to be perfect just yet. I will expect it eventually, but for now, find your pace, ease into it, don't force it. Some of you are still learning, and I accept that. Others I do expect more of, hm, bird? What's wrong with you today? Feels like you want me to help you again...”

You looked up then, still recovering from your coughing fit, and saw how he walked around the table back to the girl with the blue bow, who was crying harder again, her face beet-red, as she struggled to fit the long dildo into her mouth. Her hands were shaking so much it kept slipping out. He came to stand behind her and grabbed the item out of her hand.

“Look up,” he told her sternly, and she followed suit, tilting her head back, chin up, lips parted. “Open wide, relax your tongue,” he kept going, and while you were supposed to focus on shoving your own dildo into your throat, you couldn't help but watch them, mesmerized by his dominant aura and how the girl did everything he told her, seemingly relaxing under his guidance.

The man put one hand under her chin, holding her head in that position, not even giving her the chance to jerk away, while he held the toy in his other, and slowly, excruciatingly slow, he lowered the blue silicone into her open mouth, deeper, deeper, and the girl froze, shaking visibly, and you watched with growing horror how it slipped into her throat, bulged it, pressed against her tight collar, went deeper still, until the leather straps of the gag pressed against her lips, and the toy was in her throat and she didn't gag. She didn't move either, stiff, probably afraid to even breathe, when he fixed the straps around her head, holding the gag in place.

His hand rubbed along her neck then, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you saw tears rolling down her cheeks. “Well done, bird,” he whispered, slowly moving her head so she was facing ahead again. “Breathe through your nose, relax.” His words seemed to calm her, but she remained frozen in place, barely moving, her nostrils flaring, a constant stream of tears wetting her flushed cheeks.

You felt so bad for her that a single tear rolled down your own cheek. Blinking more away, you looked up and met the man's dark gaze, causing you to flinch and gasp, and you quickly averted your eyes and focused back on your own gag, putting the pink silicone back between your lips, mindlessly pushing it in and out, your heart beating faster. His footsteps circled the table, you heard the occasional praise or criticism or advise, and when he came to stand behind your chair, you heard him sigh.

“Need my help, too, doll?” his voice rang close to your ear as he leaned towards you, his hands heavy on your shoulders.

You swallowed hard, taking a shuddering breath as you pulled the dildo from between your lips and turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. You were desperate for his praise, but at the same time you were afraid he would just force the toy into your throat, ignoring his own words of letting you find your pace.

“You know, the longer you stall, the longer the others have to endure with their gags, doll, are you aware of that?” he said, causing you to look back around the table, seeing all the other girls with their task finished, the leather straps of their gags holding their dildos in their bulging throats. Most of them had flushed faces, as if they were already struggling to breathe, and you felt bad instantly, a new kind of humiliation crashing over you, being put on the spot like this.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered, averting your eyes.

“Well, it's only fair then that I take care of this, hm?” he said behind you, his hands cupping your jaw and pulling your head back until you met his gaze. His handsome features looked sinister in your upside-down view, and you swallowed hard against his hands and the collar. “Open wide, tongue relaxed,” he instructed, and you did what he said, your eyelids fluttering. “Keep your eyes open.”

You blinked, watching as he leaned closer to grab the dildo out of your hand. Its pink color was all you saw for a moment as he pressed it between your lips, pushing insistently, and when he hit the back of your throat, you let out a whimper, shivers crashing down your spine. He ignored it and kept going, and luckily the toy wasn't as long as Bird's, but it still breached your throat before you felt the texture of the hard leather of the straps against your lips. Spit filled your mouth, and on instinct, you opened and closed your jaw as you adjusted to the item stuck in your mouth, teeth grazing the soft silicone.

His fingers brushed against your warm cheeks as he slipped the strap into the buckle and pulled the gag tight around your head, making it impossible to push the dildo out of your mouth on your own. The thought made you panic for a moment, and when he nudged your head forward like he'd done with Bird, you felt that traitorous jerk of your stomach before you gagged viciously, spit and bile shooting up your contracting throat, filling your mouth, bulging your cheeks, and you had to lean over and work your jaw and lips to allow the suffocating amount of saliva to drip past the small gap the leather straps left.

Your lap was sticky by the time you were able to control your body again, your cunt clenching hard around the toy you were stuck on. You felt lightheaded and horrible, limbs trembling from the exertion, but at least now you knew you could gag and still breathe despite the object stuck in your throat. Even if it hurt like hell.

His hands rubbed over your shoulders as he pulled you flat against the back of the chair. “Good, you'll learn to control your gag reflex soon enough.”

His words weren't as impactful as you had hoped, but it was better than a scolding, so you took it, a strangled noise making it past your gag, more drool dripping down your chin. Your vision was swimming, luckily, so you couldn't see the other girls and how they were probably judging you, if they weren't busy fighting their own struggles.

“Alright, well done, everyone. I have definitely seen worse before,” he said as he walked back to the girl still standing at the head of the table. “Now put your hands on the edge of the table and watch closely, yes, eyes on me, come on, you can turn your heads.”

A shuffle went through the table, gurgling noises and muffled gasps filling the air before every girl was watching him, their fingers curled around the hard edge of the table top, knuckles tight, and as your vision cleared a little, you realized they all looked as pathetic as you felt, all drooling, crying, seemingly all very unhappy with their gags, all except the girl with the white ribbon around the end of her braid.

She looked almost proud, head raised high, only a little bit of red on her cheeks, eyes watery, but clearer than the others. Again, the man also seemed to notice. “You did particularly well, dove,” he addressed her, and her eyes crinkled under the praise. “You were also the second to sit on your dildo, the first to put the gag on, I saw, don't worry, you will get your reward as well.

“First, I think Pet is waiting, hm, aren't you, pretty girl?” he said, his hands rubbing along the girl's arms before his big hands found her small breasts, and he kneaded them roughly, pinched her nipples, pulled on them, but she didn't even flinch, she just endured, standing stock-still, eyes hooded. He kept groping her, one hand moving between her thighs, the other slipping back around her rear, and the slap he gave her ass made you flinch so badly you almost gagged again. “Crawl onto the table, pet, on your hands and knees.”

Suddenly the girl moved, finally, as she started climbing onto the sturdy table, like he had instructed. You could hear her labored breaths and see her flaring nostrils as she moved past you, her cheeks pumping under the strain, drool dripping past her tight lips. She assumed her position in the middle of the large table, a very unusual centerpiece, her hips in line with your eyes as she stopped. As she did so, you noticed the man walking to the empty chair where he twisted the yellow dildo out of its attachment before he returned to the head of the table, tilting his head as he turned the toy between his long fingers.

“Are you ready for your reward, pet?” he asked, and you found it extra cruel, knowing she couldn't speak, with or without the gag. But she managed a strange gurgling sound and nodded her head, even though he probably couldn't see that while standing behind her with a clear view on her exposed holes. “Lay flat on your stomach,” he instructed, and she did so without hesitation, turning her head away to ease the strain on her throat. You saw shivers crashing over her skin.

Then the table creaked slightly as the man climbed up as well, still wearing his white shirt, fancy dress pants and shoes (and how he positioned himself on top of her, the same shoe you had humped earlier was almost brushing against your hands, the memory of that incident making your cunt clench and heat crash into your face). He straddled her thighs, one hand on her soft rear, the other holding the yellow silicone toy, and you noticed he had unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, the hint of coarse hairs and the base of his cock visible from your position.

“Stretch out your arms and hold onto the edge of the table,” he told the girl he was sitting on. She did, her breaths a lot more raspy now. She didn't move anymore after that, just lay there, stretched out, prone on the hard table, and he shifted slightly, pulling her hips up only a bit, before he teased the dildo between her ass cheeks. “As this is your throat and cunt training and you did so good with that, it's only fair I give you a nice ass pounding as your reward, don't you think?” he said, nudging the toy lower, rubbing it between the girl's folds.

You watched, having a clear view of what he was doing, and you shivered with Pet, doubting she'd be too happy about this kind of reward. You knew you wouldn't be. But you didn't question his methods of rewarding them, you didn't question anything, it didn't matter. You just had to see the end of this, endure and survive, hoping to get a break soon. It had to end sometime, right?

But for now, it was only the beginning, and as you sat on your own dildo nudged deep inside you, rigid and unyielding, while the softer version occupied your mouth and throat, you were forced to witness what this man called a reward. The girl he was rewarding shuddered visibly when he forced the toy between her tight thighs, pushing, pushing until almost all of it vanished inside her cunt, before he slapped her ass again, once, twice, left cheek, right cheek, and she flinched, a jerk going through her body, the choking sound she issued causing goosebumps to ripple over your extended arms.

The man shifted on top of her thighs again, gripping her soft flesh and pulling her cheeks apart, exposing her puckered hole. You saw him spitting on it, before he rubbed it with his thumb, then pressed in with both, slowly opening her up, holding her open as he moved his hips closer, his cock springing free from its confines, and for a moment you stared at it, the shape of it, the girth and length, the veins bulging all around it, the mushroom tip, angry and leaking, and as selfish as it were, you wished you could feel it inside you instead of Pet. Maybe not in your ass, but in general, it had a strange appeal to you, it was so special, your Master's cock, the thing he used to punish and reward, the thing your life centered around now.

You watched it, holding your breath, as he nudged the crown into the girl's asshole, the ridge of his tip sinking in, and inch after inch the rest followed, shoved into the tight space until he had bottomed out. There he rested, his hands curling around her hips, thumbs rubbing mindlessly over her skin. He looked around the table then, and whenever he met the gaze of a girl, the same would blush and look away, except for you, you held his gaze, stunned by the scene in front of you, stunned by him, by this easy dominance, by his confidence and strength, by his generosity to let you all watch.

It should be strange to watch him fuck another girl, definitely not something that had aroused you before, and while you did feel a little jealous, you were also intrigued. And again, you definitely shouldn't. What was wrong with you? You should be ashamed, look away like the others, try to ignore whatever was going on and hope for it to end soon, but you wanted to see him in action, even if it reminded you of the times he had done the same to you (which hadn't been the best experiences of your life, to say the least).

But it was different now, you could see him, so close you could basically touch him, and with the dildo stuck in your cunt, your hands on the table, you could feel and imagine his every move. Mixed with the struggles of the other girls, the overall idea of training your cunt and throat in front of him, you couldn't fight the arousal growing within you. Yes, it was wrong, but you also knew it would be easier if you just played along, ride the wave as it came, and maybe something good came out of it as well (namely you, coming, hopefully hard enough to forget the whole ordeal and humiliation of it all).

“Remember to just observe, girls,” he said, and basically crushed your hopes of finding relief as well. “If I catch any of you riding your dildos, I'll have to punish you. You just sit here and watch, understood?”

Nods and gurgles went around the table, and you exhaled loudly through your nose, looking at your soiled lap, following a strand of drool down your thigh. Suddenly his hand was there, grabbing your chin, pulling you closer to him, making you shift on the toy attached to your chair. You flinched, almost gagged again, before you met his gaze.

“Keep it together, doll. None of you are allowed to come, and if you do, you will be strapped to the fucking machine for twenty-four hours until you'll hate the idea of coming, understood?”

His voice was low and harsh, making you shiver. You nodded into his grip. He stared at you a moment longer, sending goosebumps down your spine. Then he pushed you back when he let go of your chin, and your body jerked, stomach fluttering as a new wave of spit forced up your throat. You convulsed and curled in on yourself, trying to alleviate the pressure by working your jaw around your gag, more saliva slipping down between your tense thighs, adding to the other wetness.

You recovered slowly, but when you finally did, your throat aching under the strain, jaw just as tense, head spinning, you noticed that he had waited for you to do so, his eyes leaving you before he focused back on the girl he was impaling on his cock. She was still beneath him, just lying there, and only the slight rise and fall of her shoulders indicated that she was still breathing. She basically jumped back to attention when he drew his hips back and started pounding into her ass, without warning, without preparation, he just started, and the table shook and squeaked under the motions.

Eventually he shifted, sat up more, pulled her hips against him, and really rutted into her, relentless thrusts, in and out, always pushing deep, the slap of skin against skin loud in your ears. The whole thing was as degrading as it was arousing, and you hated yourself and your body for reacting the way you did. Forcing yourself to remain as still as possible, you couldn't help but actively clench your cunt around the dildo, your thighs trembling as you pressed them together, your stomach fluttering, your hands gripping harder at the edge of the table.

You didn't care what the other girls did, all you could focus on was watching your Master ram his cock into the girl's ass, over and over again, slower, than faster again, and she writhed beneath him, unable to control herself any longer, her skin reddened, her limbs trembling, her toes curling where they stuck out behind him. You observed it all, took it all in, let it gather low in your stomach where the heat was scorching, and it took your last bit of willpower not to moan around the gag in your mouth or shift on your chair.

A sudden scraping sound mixed with the labored breaths of the couple on the table, your gaze snapped across the room towards Bird. The girl's face was really red, eyes bloodshot, her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. She visibly squirmed on her chair, making it creak and scratch over the floor, her chest rising and falling fast, breasts quivering, nipples rock hard as she rubbed them against her outstretched arms while her hips undulated into the seat without shame or restraint. The pounding in front of you stopped, and you saw that the man, breathing harder, stared at the girl who was too oblivious to notice she had been caught.

“You're really testing me today, bird,” he croaked out, dark and angry, and the girl stiffened immediately, looking up at him, eyes widening. “Fine, the fucking machine it is then, and don't worry, I'll add a beating to it,” he told her sternly. “Maybe then you'll learn to control yourself!”

You shivered, quickly forcing yourself to stop any kind of movement yourself, no matter how hard it was to resist the growing urge. Bird's eyelids fluttered before she started crying harder, lowering her gaze, shoulders shaking, hiccups turning into gagging motions when she fought the strain on her throat. The man ignored her, and you forced yourself to look away too. The poor girl. Though, at the same time, you felt as if she had been doing it on purpose, all her struggles were to get his attention, and maybe that was what she was seeking? You hoped it was worth spending a full day strapped to a machine and receiving a beating (the latter was probably something she craved because it involved him, right?).

You realized you really shouldn't judge the urges and needs of others, when your own turned out to be just as depraved, surprisingly enough. In a way, ending up in the service of this sadistic man had allowed you to learn a lot about yourself too, if you wanted it or not. Focusing back on your own predicament, you inhaled deeply through your nose, grounded yourself, trying to ignore the insistent desire to rut against your own dildo/chair.

Luckily, the man resumed his rapid fucking of the girl's ass right in front of you, so while it did arouse you more, it also distracted you, emptied your mind enough to just watch them, pushing the nagging thoughts away. You concentrated on his hands, how his long fingers curled into the dip of her hips, his grip bruising as he pulled her against his hips with every forward motion, causing her cushioned rear to smack into his pelvis, his cock slipping as deep as it would go, carving its way into the girl's depths.

He fell into a slower rhythm of dragging her tight muscles along his thick shaft, her rim catching on the ridge of his tip, before he slammed his cock back in with a powerful thrust, making the girl twitch beneath him while your cunt clenched hard whenever the table rocked underneath your hands. That was probably the point, why you and the other girls had to hold onto the edge like this, you were supposed to feel the impact of his strength, his relentless thrusts, how the girl accepted her fate but ultimately couldn't fight the reactions of her body, her sweat-slick skin squeaking over the smooth wooden surface with every back and forth.

It was a test of endurance, more than any training, the dildo in your throat and cunt was just another distraction. He was teaching you to observe, to focus your mind on the things in front of you instead of your own body. As if your body wasn't important anymore, no matter how it was stuffed and assaulted by sensations of your own. It made sense, in a strange and twisted sort of way, you were his servant, you and the other girls, sharing similar fates, maybe they were all working off debts or came here under differently dubious circumstances, but you would bet on your remaining life force that none of them were here on their own terms.

He was a collector, of things, of girls, of slaves, of depravities. This was his realm, his kingdom. And you were just a tiny piece of it, nothing more. Forced to endure, forced to become a body, an empty head, a toy for him to play with, a doll, a shadow of yourself. You and all the other girls, those around the table, the one he was fucking right now, the others he had dismissed for the day, those who mended their wounds, those who waited for more, the ones without voices, the ones in the cages, all those others you only heard about. You were in his service, and as of right now, you couldn't see a way out, and the longer you dwelt on that sentiment, the less it mattered.

This was your life now. And the sooner you accepted it, the less horrible it might be.

A loud exhale left your nose, and you realized you had stopped watching him and had succumbed to your thoughts instead. And unfortunately, he had noticed. He was still moving his cock in and out the girl's ass, slowly, but his eyes were on you, dark and narrowed. You blinked your own into focus.

“Am I boring you, doll?” he asked quietly, his voice strained and rough.

You quickly shook your head, holding your breath, but he still extended a hand and closed it around your throat, pulling you closer. You fought another uncontrollable jerk of your body when he squeezed your neck, momentarily cutting off your airways. He stared at you, waited until you felt your lungs aching, your cheeks heating up, your eyes widening, before he let you go and shoved you against the back of your chair. To your own shame, you clenched even harder around the dildo that had rocked into a particularly sensitive spot under the motion. Your rapid breaths were loud as you tried to calm down again, even when your heart was exploding inside your chest.

He slapped his hand against your left breast, causing you to flinch. “Pay attention,” he growled. “All of you!” he added with a bellow of his voice, looking around the table. Despite their reddened faces and wet chins, drool coating most of their chests too, they met his gaze with fearful eyes. He gave a satisfied huff, then continued pounding harder into Pet's ass.

Despite your growing anxiety, you couldn't help but marvel at how long he dragged this whole scene out. He had incredible stamina, he probably could have come after a few strokes into the girl's tight hole, with how thick and hard his cock had already been, but he kept at it, forced himself to go slower in between, and you feared it wasn't for his own pleasure, but for the girl's pain and discomfort. He was practically torturing her now, shifting on her thighs, holding her hips, while she really struggled, battling the additional sensations of having something in her throat and in her cunt, while also not being allowed to come. This really was a sadist's idea of a reward.

You had no idea how long this went on for, but eventually he picked up the pace again, his breaths a bit more labored, his knuckles white as he gripped the girl's hips, purple bruises forming under his fingers, as he smacked his hips harder and faster against her rear, really rocking the table now, every thrust vibrating into your arms and straight into your cunt. And then he came, and despite it all, you were mesmerized by the sight of it.

He arched his back, chin tilted up, eyes closed, his pelvis pressed against the girl, his cock pushed as deep as possible, his balls twitching visibly as he shot his load into her depths. A drawn-out moan escaped him, his body relaxing, shoulders sagging, his throat working, and you watched it all, feeling your stomach tensing, your neglected clit throbbing, that strange need to touch him, to feel him like this when he would unload inside you, no matter which hole, it burned scorching hot in your guts, thrumming through you, making it really hard to stay still.

All he'd ever done to you was against your will, there had always been pain, more pain than pleasure, and yet seeing him come undone right in front of your eyes made it all seem worth it, a fitting reward after everything you'd endured. You were too far gone to realize he had successfully manipulated you already. It was too late. You were caught in his web now, and there was no desire to leave its comforting confines.

Chapter 9 🔻 Chapter 10 🔺 Chapter 11

End notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger... again. The scene will conclude in the next chapter.

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 09

Master teaches you a few things about posture and allows you one orgasm, though the way there isn't the road you've expected to take...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Humiliation. Degradation. Shoe humping. Forced/assisted masturbation. Semi-forced orgasm. Subspace. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 2.3k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: As always, for more information on Master (and why I tagged this the way I did) and Reader, check the Author's Notes in chapter 1.

Chapter 8 🔻 Chapter 9 🔺 Chapter 10

“Well then,” he said with a sigh as he wiped his hands on a wet towel, his eyes raking over your restrained form. “Do you want to be next?”

Your eyes widened, and while you wanted to tell him no, please, I don't wanna run around with a giant dildo up my butt all day, you only whimpered quietly, your legs twitching against the leather straps that held them. He stepped closer to you, right between your spread thighs, his hands coming to rest on your knees.

“Let's get you off this chair first, hm?”

His words were surprisingly soft, and when he started unbuckling your bonds, you just watched him, somewhat curious but also anxious, unsure where your journey would continue. The simple act of freeing you and finally allowing you off the chair was enough to distract you, to give you a false sense of safety, so when he eventually grabbed your arms and pulled you onto your feet, you swayed, stumbled, your hands finding his chest for support, as you looked at him with your breath hitching.

His gaze was dark, as impassive as ever, and he slowly let go of you and tilted his head, then said: “On your knees.”

It was the dominant tone, his intimidating height and stature, or maybe it was relief because your legs felt way too weak to support you anyway, but you followed suit quickly, slipped to the ground and knelt before him, your hands clasped on your lap, your neck straining as you looked up at him. He watched you, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

“Arms folded behind your back, chest out,” he instructed, and you did what he said, adjusted your posture until he was satisfied, which took a while. “Feet flat beneath you, no leaning on your toes.” You changed the position of your feet, feeling the strain on your muscles and joints, the weight of your body making it more painful to kneel like that on the unforgiving tiles. “Shoulders back, chin up, look straight ahead.”

Once you sat like he wanted you to sit, he circled you like a predator ready to devour its prey, slow steps, pauses when he watched you; he never touched you, just looked, and you knelt there, holding the position he told you to assume, trying to ignore the aches it sparked and the anxiety flaring up inside your tense stomach.

“Good. Practice this position. It'll be your default. Adjust accordingly,” he said, circling back to stand right in front of you.

You didn't dare look up at him, the way he told you to hold your head only allowed you to see the tops of his thighs, maybe his crotch if you moved your eyes a little.

“Spread your legs,” he added, and before you could even start following the command, he nudged his shoe between your knees.

You struggled to pull your thighs apart in your position, with your arms behind your back and without your toes giving you extra stability, but somehow you ended up sitting on the heels of your feet, your legs spread as far as they would go, allowing him a perfect view onto your weeping cunt. It was still a miracle (a shameful one on top of it) that despite all the things you'd witnessed and experienced, your body couldn't stop reacting to it all. You were wet, you knew it, your core clenching around nothing even as you just thought about whatever depravity he expected from you next.

And he noticed, of course. He stepped closer, and his shoe was back between your thighs, the shiny tip of it poking at your swollen labia. You stiffened, your body shaking from how tense you were, but you endured, you let it happen, because what else were you supposed to do? The worst thing about it? It felt good. The way he moved the hard leather against your soft flesh, how deliberate his motions were, how easy he could have just kicked you right where it would hurt the most but didn't, the restraint of him, it all added to the wetness seeping out of you and onto his shining shoe.

He kept moving it, poking, prodding, rubbing, pushing it into your slit, teasing at your entrance, and you had a really hard time keeping your hips from meeting the motions. You were past the point of feeling humiliated, instead you grew needier by the second, all that teasing, all the things that happened prior, fed the fire burning in your loins, and you would even hump a fucking shoe if that was what it took to relieve the tension.

“Do it,” he suddenly said, and despite your orders, you looked up in surprise, meeting his dark gaze, noticing a smirk dancing around his lips.

While you feared he was really able to read your mind (or maybe you were just so obvious in your needs?), you still moved, did as he told you, you actually did it, you circled your hips against his shoe, let the leather rub against your folds, let the pointy tip penetrate your cunt, let the mass of it stretch you open, and a moan escaped you as you rutted faster, your hips jerking forward repeatedly, your body struggling to hold the position, your hands clawing at your own wrists to keep your arms behind your back. You lowered your head, stared down in shame as you humped his shoe as best you could.

“Look at me,” he said quietly, almost soft, gentle, and you did, stared up into his eyes with your face flushed, your lips parted, more and more moans and mewls spilling from you, and he held his shoe there, allowed you to rub yourself on it, and it felt so good, it shouldn't, it really shouldn't, it was so degrading, even more so when you had to hold eye contact, but he watched you stoically, saw every twitch of your legs, every bead of sweat rolling down your temple, every jiggle of your breasts, every bit of effort as you rode his shoe like it was the best thing to have in your cunt.

The way the hard leather caught on your clit, pressed into it, into you, the smooth slide of it against your wet cunt, the way the tip poked and stretched your entrance, the squelching noises, the squeaks and your labored breaths, it was quickly building up into something you didn't think possible. You kept humping, your hips undulating, your body tensing, stomach fluttering, and suddenly it all exploded, and you came, hard, with a gasp, a moment of stillness, shock, inhaling sharply, before you started spasming, falling into yourself, unable to hold your position as you slumped forwards, causing the tip of his shoe to push deeper, and your hands found his pant leg, fingers gripping at the fabric as you fought the throes of your orgasm, shivering, shuddering, trembling, completely succumbing to the sensation.

Sweat-slick and exhausted, you clung to his leg, panting as if you'd just run a marathon, your core throbbing, pumping, your heart thundering in your ears (and in your clit), and when he suddenly moved his foot, nudging his shoe against your sensitive cunt, you howled weakly, hugging his leg tighter, fully embracing it, unwilling to let go. He gave you a few more nudges, prolonging the incredible high, before you felt his hand on your head, and he pulled you off him, roughly, fisting your hair, basically shoving you backwards until you landed hard on your bruised rear.

With the sudden loss of his shoe and his leg, you quickly came back down to the cold reality, and shame flooded you instantly. Letting out a desperate whine, you scrambled back onto your knees, but instead of looking at him, you buried your burning face in your hands, allowing hot tears to spill from your lashes as more and more sobs wrecked your body.

You heard him issuing a condescending sigh, before you felt his hand on your wrist. You stiffened mid-cry, noticing he had crouched down in front of you, almost gently prying your hands off your face.

“Show me those tears,” he whispered quietly, his voice so low it was a mere hum in the air, thrumming through you. You looked up hesitantly, your vision blurry, lashes clumped, eyes burning. His gaze was hard, but the way he still held your wrist in his big hand grounded you, gave you a strange kind of comfort, something you hadn't expected coming from him. “Why are you crying?”

You sniffled, blinking your eyes into focus, biting your trembling lip. “I...” Because I'm humiliated! Because you made me hump your shoe! Because I didn't want any of this! Your thoughts were racing, but nothing came past your lips, nothing but unintelligible whimpers.

“Do you think this was below you? Getting off on my shoe, hm?” he said quietly, staring you down. “That was a privilege, doll. I allowed you to come and it doesn't matter how. You should be grateful...”

You swallowed hard, frowning, the lump in your throat only growing.

“So, what do you say?” he pressed on, tightening his grip on your wrist.

You parted your lips a little more, forcing the words out that you clearly didn't want to say, but knew you had to. “Th-thank you, m-master,” you croaked out barely audible, your eyes flicking over his face, unable to fully meet his gaze.

“Exactly,” he said with a sigh and let go of your wrist, slowly standing up again. Mesmerized by his dominance, you straightened up too, tilting your chin up to keep him in your sight. “Dolls always say thank you. Dolls listen to their Master and do whatever he tells them to do, no matter what. Dolls don't cry, unless...”

He paused, watching you closely as he extended a hand and wiped his index finger over your wet cheek, gathering your tears. You openly stared at him when he brought his shining finger to his lips and licked it clean. Something inside you roared up again, your cunt clenching violently around nothing.

“Unless I want to have a taste...” he whispered, giving you a wink. Your heart skipped a beat. “But right now, I want you to clean up after yourself. Dolls do that, too, you know? They always keep clean, their environment and themselves. Dolls are always spotless, perfect, ready for their Master, ready to serve him in any way possible.”

He took a step closer, putting his leg out, his shoe, shining and glistening in your juices, extended. You stared at it, another wave of humiliation crashing through you, before you looked back up at him.

“Lick it clean,” he simply said, and your stomach was in knots. No matter what he had said, what your role was, what was expected of you, it felt too degrading to even think about what he asked of you. Swallowing hard, you took a shuddering breath, eyebrows knitted, a new batch of tears streaming down your cheeks. “Don't make me wait,” he added, quieter, darker, his voice cold and hard.

Your body was fighting it, your mind protesting, but somehow you ended up in the same position as you were when you had to drink milk out of a dog bowl, when you had to lick up his spend off the ground after giving him head. Your hands flat on the cold tiles, your body folded, your mouth less than an inch away from the shiny leather of his shoe. Your own smell assaulted your nostrils. You felt awful, you didn't want this, this was so degrading, humiliating, yes, it was below you, like he had accused you.

And yet you couldn't stop your tongue when it extended, when it met the strangely tangy taste of your juices coated to the expensive leather. Maybe it was because you'd done this before, in a way, maybe deep down you just wanted to please him, knowing how he could punish you if you didn't, maybe, in a very sick corner of your mind, you didn't even mind it that much.

Stroke after stroke, you licked his shoe clean, and the longer you spent in this position, focused only on the task he'd given you, the more your body relaxed, or rather, the more it adjusted, the more it betrayed you. Did this actually turn you on? No way. But then why did you feel your cunt leaking? Why did you imagine humping this very shoe again, feeling it poking into you, rubbing against your clit, the same shoe that could hurt you if it wanted to? Why was this so arousing?

Eventually the doubts quieted down as you kept lapping at the hard leather, warmed from your saliva and the ghost of your release, and somehow your mind emptied and you felt yourself drifting into a strange space where nothing mattered, just following orders, no thinking, just pleasing Master. Before you could drift off fully, you felt his hand in your hair as he pulled you off him. You gasped, the rough gesture reminding you of your reality.

You were dizzy when he grabbed your elbow and hoisted you up onto your feet, your vision unfocused, head spinning, legs like jello. Stumbling into him, you let him move you, your feet dragging over cold tiles, then hard stone. You had no idea where you were going or even how, but when you felt something soft beneath you, and he simply said “Kneel”, you fell easily to your knees and assumed the position he showed you earlier. It was a strange comfort, a thing you knew, a thing that grounded you despite your swimming mind.

You swayed a little, but he didn't seem to mind. He left you there, kneeling on what must be carpet, a weird sensation after all the hard surfaces you'd been on before. It took you a while to come back to yourself, but when you did, when your eyes blinked into focus and you dared a look around the room you were in, you wished you could go back to being too delirious to care.

Chapter 8 🔻 Chapter 9 🔺 Chapter 10

End notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger? Next chapter will be a lot longer. Stay tuned.

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 08

You spend a few more moments strapped to that awful chair, experiencing new things, witnessing other things, being unsettled all the way through...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Bondage. Enemas (medical kink?)! Inflation. Humiliation. Degradation. Anal insertions, anal gaping. Deep penetration. Belly bulge. Sex toys/butt plugs. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 3.4k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: So. Yes, you read that right (if you read the warning tags above, which I hope you always do!): it's the enema episode. I swear I didn't write it too detailed. It's one of those things I always found strangely fascinating, so bear with me here. You can always skip this one, or skim to the end (look for this 🔴) where Master* plays with another girl. *Master being the man you want him to be, of course (still clogging those fandom tags, sue me!). His role isn't as big here, but he is definitely there, in all his dominant glory. And even more so in the next chapter, if you actually decide to sit this one out.

As always, for more information on him and Reader, check the Author's Notes in chapter 1.

Chapter 7 🔻 Chapter 8 🔺 Chapter 9

You woke up almost in the same position, reclined in that strange chair, still bound, body sweat-slick and shivering, and the first thing you registered was something poking out of your ass, clenched between tight muscles, like a tube, going deep, and the second thing was the increasing pressure in your stomach.

A whimper crawled out of your sore throat as your eyes raked downward. You felt incredibly full, were barely able to breathe, even less so when you noticed the shape of your usually flat tummy, bulging out, pulled taut, skin tight, slowly inflating. The unusual sensation made you whine again, panic surging through your already tense body, making you struggle in your bonds.

“Shh, it'll be alright,” you heard a soft voice from somewhere between your spread legs. “Don't move too much, it'll be over soon.”

You strained your neck, trying to find who'd consoled you, when you saw the head of a girl, a young woman, poking up, a shy smile on thin lips, reddened eyes looking up at you. You'd feel ashamed to have another stranger so close to your private parts, but she was just as naked as you, the same collar around her neck, and she was also wearing a braid, like all the others, like you, and hers had a red ribbon holding it together. You were glad she was one of the girls who still had her vocal chords. Maybe she could give you some answers.

“W-why –” you stammered, but she shushed you again, her head turning towards the door of the sterile room.

“No talking,” she replied quietly. “Master doesn't like it when we talk. Rest your voice,” she added, looking back at you. “Relax.”

You suddenly felt her hands on your inner thighs, the gentle rubbing warm and soothing, and it did distract you from the strange things happening inside you.

While you felt really full, your insides bloated beyond what should be possible, it were the cramps that made you really sweat. Hot and cold shivers crashed through you as your muscles contracted, reacting to whatever liquid was pumped into you. In your haze, you noticed an IV stand next to your chair, holding an unusually large bag that was slowly deflating, and when your eyes followed the tube attached to it, it only added to your growing fear as you realized there was still more mystery liquid being fed into you.

You'd heard of enemas before, yet you had no idea it would be like this, but then many things seemed to work differently here, wherever here was, whatever kind of place this was, where girls were always naked and treated like dogs in kennels, eating from bowls on the floor, having their holes inspected and used against their will.

At this point, you should have stopped worrying about whatever came your way, but you still found yourself deeply troubled by it all. Yet the more you thought about your new life, how you came to live it, how unfair it all was, the more frustrated you became, knowing you couldn't change a single thing. You were at the mercy of a sadist and his many pets, having to follow his commands and enduring whatever he threw your way. A shaking sigh escaped you, triggering another deep cramp, and you wailed, squirming on the chair.

The other girl stood up then, her hands rubbing over your bulging belly, giving it gentle pressure, the warmth of her touch soothing the aches within at least a little. She kept shushing you, her eyes on your flushed face. It was eerily calming.

“Try to see the good in it,” she then whispered, barely audible, her hands cupping your stomach. “Doesn't it feel good too? How it fills you? You'll feel so clean after, and it'll be a true experience when it all comes out, trust me.”

You frowned at her words, not having thought about that part of the procedure. Shame crashed through you. The girl only smiled, rubbing her hands around your waist, stepping closer to your crotch, her bare stomach brushing against your still swollen labia.

“And it'll feel even better when Master takes your ass again,” she kept whispering, a somewhat dreamy look in her dull eyes. “He taught me how to come like that, you know? By anal alone? I haven't had anything in my pussy in ages. I don't need it. All I need is his cock in my ass... or a plug or a dildo or the fucking machine if he feels generous. I even like it when he shoves other things in there, like balls? Fruit? Bottles? Anything really... It's so nice to have something up my ass, being filled out, plugged up...” She sighed, and you watched her with growing concern. “I wish I was on that chair right now, you know? But I only get to be pumped full and cleaned every two weeks. At least I can watch the others getting filled, that's something, right?” She laughed dryly, her eyes raking down your body, her hands back to cup your belly.

Your frown deepened, the cramps momentarily ignored as you focused on her story. “How... how long have you been here?” you managed to ask before she could shush you again.

She looked at you, her eyelids fluttering. “I don't know. It doesn't matter. I am Master's anal whore, that is my purpose, and that's all that's important. And you'll be his little fuckdoll,” she added, smiling softly. “I bet he'll dress you up in cute clothes and treat you like a real doll, maybe he'll take you outside too! Ah, you almost make me jealous,” she chuckled quietly. “He's always so nice to the new ones... You better enjoy it while you can.”

Her last words made you widen your eyes. Nice? Enjoy it while you can? As another wave of cramps wrecked your insides, causing you to moan in pain, you suddenly saw your whole future turning black. If how he treated you before was nice, then you couldn't even imagine how he'd treat you once you were old news, once he grew bored of his new fuckdoll. Tears welled up in your eyes and you turned your head away, sniffling pathetically.

The girl rubbed her hands along your stomach and moved back down between your legs. You didn't particularly care what she was doing there, how she tugged at the tube stuck in your ass, slowly pulling it out, how there were shuffling noises of something big being pulled closer, and how her fingers probed at your sphincter. You didn't care, you couldn't care, if you did, you'd surely break. So you cried quietly, unable to move, unable to do anything else but endure.

“You're all filled up now,” you heard her say, her voice a little flat. “Hold it in, okay? I'm going to tell Master that you are ready, and when I come back, it'll be better, I promise. Hang in there.”

You gave a croaked sound of confirmation, closing your eyes as you tried to relax, but not enough to be unable to hold it in, however that was supposed to work. Tensing up even more, the strange pain only grew stronger. Your breaths were shallow, your mind racing, your sobs quietening slowly as you heard the girl leave the room through the door.

You didn't know how long she was gone, but by the time she came back, you were numb enough to no longer care, yet your body was aching under the pressure, your muscles screaming under the strain. The cramps never let up. You felt sick, bile resting at the edge of your throat, but you knew there was no relief. Not in the way you hoped. It wouldn't just disappear. It wasn't over yet.

Suddenly your chair was being lowered with a whirring sound, your inflated stomach sloshing about under the motion. You groaned, rattling in your restraints. Blinking your eyes open, you saw the girl between your legs, one hand on your belly, the other rubbing down your slit. You flinched slightly when she poked at your puckered hole. Her eyes found yours, but you couldn't hold her gaze. You were too ashamed.

“Alright, you can let go now,” she told you, and you felt her stepping away, walking around the chair. “It's okay, there's a bucket beneath you, just let go, okay?” You had no idea what to do (well, of course you had some idea but you didn't like the reality of it), and frankly, you didn't want to do anything, not with her there, not in general. She waited for a moment, just standing there, before you suddenly felt her hands pressing down on your bloated stomach.

You groaned, squirming to try to get away. “Stop, please,” you whined, but she didn't stop, and your humiliation burned up badly when the added pressure had the desired effect on your bowels. Crying helplessly, you couldn't have stopped it if you tried. Squeezing your eyes shut, fisting at the edges of the chair, straining against your bonds, you just let it happen, trying to ignore the noises and the cramps and the sensations and the girl next to you who kept rubbing your slowly deflating stomach. You were deeply disturbed by it all, humiliated beyond belief, but when it was all over, when you were empty and clean, you did feel a strange kind of relief.

A croaked whimper escaped you, your body shivering, your skin slick with cold sweat. The girl wiped at your wet face, shushing you. “Well done,” she whispered. You couldn't look at her, barely registered her words. “Master will be proud. You took it so well. Now you're all clean and ready for him to fill you up.”

She proceeded to clean you up further, the soft cloth on your warm skin a soothing thing that helped you pull away from whatever had just happened. You couldn't think about it, didn't want to think about it, so you didn't. You just lay on that chair and endured, again, with your eyes closed, your chest falling and rising, your heart slowly calming down.

There were noises around you, but you didn't care. Footsteps came and went, stuff was moved from A to B, the door opened and closed a few times. You were still too dizzy, still trying to come to terms with having your bowels washed out like that, the humiliation of it all sizzling under your skin. You really tried not to think about it, but your mind was relentless. And it didn't help that you still couldn't move, strapped to the chair as you were.

🔴 A sigh passed your quivering lips, before the air shifted around you. The door opened and closed with a weird finality, footsteps filled the small room, loud and confident, and as they stopped, you blinked your eyes open and looked up, immediately meeting the dark gaze of the man who was responsible for all of your humiliation.

Flinching in surprise, you tried to straighten up, somehow your body wanted to be alert for him, while another side of you just wanted to hide from his scrutinizing eyes raking over your exposed form. But you couldn't do either, unable to move in any way you wanted, so you just bit your lip and knitted your eyebrows, at least forcing the tears away that threatened to spill from your eyes.

The man watched you for a moment, then turned his attention to the other girl, who was kneeling on the floor next to the chair, her head bowed low.

“Everything went smoothly?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Yes, master,” she said quietly.

“Good. Well done, whore,” he replied, his hand reaching out to touch the back of her head. She gasped softly, but remained in her submissive position, while you frowned more. The way he threw around these degrading names like they were compliments still irked you. The girl didn't seem to mind.

“Thank you, master,” she cooed.

He nodded, his handsome face still impassive and hard, and you noticed he was carrying a long box under his arm. Bending down, he put it in front of the girl, then used the tip of his shiny shoe to get her attention. “Pick your reward,” he told her, and she looked up tentatively.

From your position on the chair you couldn't quite see what was inside the box, but you still watched the scene (because what else were you supposed to do?). The girl took the lid off and issued a strangled noise, before she looked up at the man with a wide smile on her face. “Oh, thank you, master! Thank you!” She then grabbed whatever was inside the box and held it up like something sacred, flat on her open palms, and you saw that it was a giant double-ended dildo. And it was really giant, it was wider and longer than the girl's forearm, veiny like a real cock, made of flesh-colored silicone, and the sight alone made you very uncomfortable.

You swallowed audibly, but nobody paid you any mind. The man picked up the box and whatever else was in there and carried it to a nearby table, then turned back to the girl and grabbed the dildo from her hands.

“Present,” he said in that dominant tone of his, and the girl immediately shuffled into a different position. She turned around, still on her knees, but now her ass was up and her face pressed to the floor, her arms folded behind her back, her hands gripping tightly onto her elbows.

You had to strain your neck a little to see her properly, and while you debated to just look away and ignore whatever was happening, you couldn't do any of it. There was a weird pull to the absurdity of it all, this place, these girls, this man, the things he did to them, the way they talked about him. How thankful she had sounded, how excited she'd been to tell you how much she loved having things up her ass. It was weird, and somehow you knew, it could only get weirder.

And indeed it did. You saw the man carrying a strange contraption, a black rubber ball with a tube attached to something that looked like a small but long butt plug, glistening slightly in the harsh fluorescent lights above you. You watched in growing concern how he walked up to the girl's backside, and without preparing her or adding more lube or anything else that could have helped, he pressed the stiff plug to her sphincter. He was really using force, the way his knuckles blanched under the strain, and how the girl pushed back to hold her position, breathing harder. Eventually her muscles opened up and the plug slipped into her, making her gasp softly.

He pushed it as deep as he could, with only the wider base with the black tube sticking out of her, then he straightened up and started pumping the ball attached to it. You heard air flow, some sort of hissing sound, his hand worked and worked, and you realized he was inflating something, no, not something, the plug in the girl's ass, and the mere idea of it made you squirm on the chair, feeling your own insides protesting.

Yet the girl only knelt there, still except for her labored breaths and an occasional shiver crashing through her. She just endured, and as she did, you stared at the scene, how the man kept pumping, how more and more air pushed into the plug and ultimately into her, stretching her more and more. Eventually he stopped, then gave the tube a little tug. It wouldn't budge.

“Push it out,” he said, and you frowned at the command.

The girl, however, complied quickly, straining herself, her back arching, sounds of effort and quiet moans slipping from her lips. You should really look away, you shouldn't be watching a girl trying to press an inflated plug out of her ass, but again, you couldn't move, couldn't avert your eyes. There was a depraved kind of fascination to it, how she pushed, how her muscles stretched, and how suddenly, the black silicone popped her open from within, and with a drawn-out sigh, she managed to push the entire thing out of her rear. It left her with a wet pop, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of it. It was almost as big as a fucking football (maybe not quite, but it was still unusually large!).

Cold shivers crashed through you, and you finally managed to turn your head away. The motion pulled the man's attention back to you, the silent witness, and suddenly he was there and grabbed your chin, turned your head back. His other hand fumbled with the controls of the chair and you felt yourself being moved, from the reclined into a sitting position. You stared up at him.

“Keep watching, doll. I want you to learn,” he told you in his low voice, his eyes boring into yours. You nodded weakly.

Letting go of you, he focused back on the girl on the ground, who had moved her hands to her backside and was holding herself open, fingers hooked into the wide gaping hole. Your stomach churned at the sight. The man crouched down then, his hand on her lower back, before he raised it to slap it against her sensitive rim, making her flinch.

“What a good hole you are,” he said quietly, and she cooed in response. “Let's fill you up properly, hm?”

He leaned back to grab the giant dildo she'd taken from the box, and without saying anything more, he lined one side of the toy up and simply pushed it into her, or rather, slid it into her, there was no obstruction, her rim too wide, her muscles too loose, it just slipped in, and in, until the entirety of it vanished into her depths. You saw her adjusting to the insertion, her back arching, body contorting to accommodate the object invading her insides, but she didn't fuss, she just took it, even seemed excited about it, the way she was buzzing and wriggling her ass slightly.

Once the item was inside her, he made her press her hands to her hole, keeping it from slipping back out, before he stood up and walked to the other side of the room. He returned with something big and transparent, some sort of wide plug you assumed. You watched him nudge the girl with the tip of his shoe again, and she took her hands away so he could shove the plug into her hole, sealing her up.

He proceeded to slap her ass cheeks a few times, like he'd done with you to make you clench, and you saw the same happening to the girl's loose rim. Eventually it closed around the narrower handle of the plug, keeping everything in place. You exhaled a shaky breath as it was all done, not having realized you had held your breath during it.

“Stand,” the man said, and the girl stood up, a little unsteady, but then she straightened up, pushed her chest out, and you could see a visible dent in her stomach, an unnatural bulge, and you could only assume how the dildo inside her rearranged her guts, how deep it really went, how much space it was taking up. The thought alone made you tremble.

But the girl was smiling at the man, bowing her head as she said: “Thank you, master.”

“You're dismissed,” he replied with a nod. “Go back to your cage. I'll find you tomorrow.”

“Yes, master,” she whispered with another bow, and started walking past him towards the door, her steps very uneasy, the thing inside her making it definitely hard to move properly. But somehow she managed, and you watched her as she left, the door falling closed behind her.

And suddenly you were alone with him again. Swallowing hard, you watched him, wondering what he had planned next. You couldn't see it on his impassive face, but you knew it would be something you couldn't imagine in your wildest dreams, or nightmares.

Chapter 7 🔻 Chapter 8 🔺 Chapter 9

End notes: Alone with Master at last (again)! Whatever will he do to you next? Stay tuned!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 07

It's inspection time, and you can be sure that your new master will be very thorough...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Inspection. Objectification. Anal fingering, anal insertion/spreading, anal gaping. Spanking. Bondage. Pussy slapping. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Forced orgasm. Squirting. (Brief mentions of human trafficking/forced prostitution, enemas) (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 4.1k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: If this is the first post of the series you come across, lemme quickly recap: Reader (age unspecified, but over 18) has hair long enough to braid and female genitalia, is referred to as Doll, finds herself in the clutches of a man who made her a part of his unusual collection of girls, and today, it's inspection time! This man has no name, no physical descriptions, he could be anyone - hence the fandom tags I am still occupying with this story. Make him your favorite blorbo, call him whatever you want, imagine him however you want. I usually keep my characters vague so you can fill in the blanks!

For more information, check the Author's Notes on chapter 1.

Chapter 5+6 🔻 Chapter 7 🔺 Chapter 8

He brought you into another room, and somehow this one gave you even more shivers than the punishment room. There were white tiles on the floor and on the walls, it was cold and bright and sterile, and the chair in the middle of the space wasn't making things better. The last time you'd been in one of those was during your latest visit to the gynecologist, though you couldn't remember seeing those thick leather straps dangling off the one in your doctor's office.

Swallowing hard, you let him pull you to a little platform that turned out to be an old-fashioned scale. He turned you, hands on your hips, then made you spread your legs a little and raised your arms before making you cross them behind your head, causing your chest to jut out more, your bare breasts jiggling slightly with the motion. The posture made you feel even more exposed than you'd been the entire time, and the clinically bright lights emphasized every inch of your naked skin, adding to the burning shame circling your guts.

“This is the pose you assume when I ask you for an inspection, understood?” he told you, watching you curiously.

You nodded. “Yes, master.”

“I'll show you more poses later. For now, let's take a look at you...”

He took a step back and tilted his head, his eyes raking over your naked body, his gaze cold and impassive. You barely dared to breathe under his scrutiny. Heat crashed through you, you could feel it pulsing in your cheeks (and in your cunt).

Your mind was still reeling from what had happened in the other room, and for a moment you wondered how the other girl was faring, and how his men were taking care of her. But then you felt the man's hands on your face, and your attention snapped back to him.

You blinked, inhaling sharply when he traced his fingers along the shape of your head, the touch warm and surprisingly gentle. His thumbs pressed lightly against your cheekbones, following the line of your jaw, before he rubbed them against the corners of your mouth.

“Open wide,” he told you, and you did, parting your lips. “Tongue out.” You had no idea how he did it, but you followed suit immediately, his low voice sinking into you, activating instincts you never knew you had. You saw him nodding, and more of the good warmth flooded your lower body.

He hooked his thumbs into your open mouth and pulled it a little wider, still staring at you as if you were either art on display or a pig ready to go to the slaughterhouse. You froze, held your breath, tried not to move. When he moved his hand and used his fingers to push your upper lip up, you frowned, being reminded of being at the dentist, but that feeling quickly disappeared when he took his hands away and grabbed your chin, turning your head, left and right, and your lips quivered, your jaw twitching, your tongue wanting to retreat back into your mouth.

“Keep your mouth open,” he snapped, and you flinched at the harsh tone.

Doing as he told you, you felt tears burning up in your eyes, your pulse droning in your ears. Drool gathered on your tongue, but you didn't dare do anything about it. With one hand still on your chin, he raised his other hand and started poking at your lips, trailing them with his index finger, before he placed the same finger on your tongue, moving your head so he could take a deeper look into your mouth. It felt so weird, and yet you were paralyzed by it all, unable to protest.

“I gotta say, doll,” he said when he added his middle finger into your mouth, both digits rubbing roughly over your tongue, pushing deeper. “I am really impressed. You've barely put up any fight so far. Almost seems as if you want this, huh?”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange sensation crashing down your spine, cold shivers that gathered scorching hot between your thighs. A smile grazed his handsome features, and it would have distracted you if he hadn't pushed his fingers against the back of your throat, making you gag and jerk against him. His hand curled around your throat, holding you in place as spit and bile filled your mouth, dripping past his fingers. You felt dizzy.

“We gotta work on your gag reflex,” he said quietly, more to himself, while his fingertips kept teasing at the back of your throat, tickling another uncontrollable convulsion out of you. He sighed and pulled his hand back. “As much as I like a sloppy mess, you have to control yourself around me,” he added, rubbing his spit slick fingers over your cheeks. “We'll start your throat training after your inspection, don't worry. You will be a good fuckdoll for me, won't you?”

You stared at him, still lightheaded, but now also terrified at whatever he had planned with you. He gently slapped his hand over your lips, forcing your mouth closed. You swallowed instinctively, your heart fluttering.

He let go then, stepped back and turned towards a table you hadn't noticed before. While you remained standing on the platform of the scale, shaking from the exertions, you heard the clinking of metal. Breathing harder through your nose, you closed your eyes for a second, trying to center yourself, to calm down. Nothing you could do anyway.

“Tell me, did I save you from a boring life, doll?” he asked over his shoulder, still rummaging through a variety of tools you couldn't see.

You frowned, blinking your eyes into focus as you stared at his broad back. Save me? you wondered, your mind racing. You forced me into... whatever this is, manipulated me to sign a fucking contract, took advantage of me, used me... As the first tear fell from your lashes, you looked down, breathing harder. You might have had a boring life, but you never wanted this. How dare he –

Suddenly he was back, his hand grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze up, making you stumble and gasp. His gaze was dark, eyebrows knitted, an angry scowl on his lips.

“You want this,” he hissed, and your eyes widened as you feared he might be able to read your mind. “I knew it the moment you begged me, so submissively on your knees, desperate for my guidance. You need this, doll, you need a strong hand. Don't worry about your old life now, that's in the past. I took care of it. You are mine now,” he added, leaning closer until you felt his hot breath on your quivering lips. “And I decide what I'll do with you. It's my right, you gave me your life, remember?” A dry laugh escaped him. “Well, don't worry if you don't, it doesn't matter. Your new life is with me, as my servant, my cute little fuckdoll, hm? Aren't you? Say it!” he suddenly yelled, the volume of his voice causing you to flinch.

More tears spilled down your cheeks, a panicked little sob gurgling in your sore throat. “Y-yes,” you gasped out, and his gaze darkened even more, his fingers tightening around your jaw, bruising it. “M-master,” you quickly added, your eyes flicking nervously over his hard face, looking for the things he wanted you to say. “I... I am your... your fuckdoll...”

The words stung, the realization of what you were hitting you low in your stomach, making it hard to breathe.

“That's right,” he said, quieter again, almost soft, his hand easing down your jaw to curl around your throat, pushing against the tight collar. “My little fuckdoll. You know what that means? I will use you whenever I want, however I want. I will make you scream and I will make you cum. Everything you do is in my hands now. I decide for you. If I want to strap you to a fucking machine and leave you there for the day, I will do so. If I want to see your pretty tears, I will spank you until your ass is bright red and you won't be able to sit for a week. If I want one of my pets to shove her hand into your tight cunt, I will arrange it. And you will let it happen, all of it. Won't you, doll?”

You were shaking badly now, the images he painted tightening the knot in your guts. Cold misery filled your throat like bile, your heart clenching, your lips wobbling. But you held his dark gaze, issued the tiniest of nods, as you croaked out another “yes, master”, and with that confirmation came a strange calm, a numbness, defeat. You were his to play with, and there was nothing you could do about it. You had no idea where you were, how to get out, how to even get past the tall man staring down at you. He was too strong, his realm of pain and depravity like a labyrinth you were stuck in, and you just knew there wouldn't be an exit anyway.

You were not a fighter, and while it had hurt to hear him say that, he was right. Maybe you wanted this after all. To be used, to be guided, to have a purpose? No worries, just... sex in whatever form he threw at you, just servitude? Your life for him?

“Alright,” he broke the moment, his palm rubbing along your wet cheek before he slapped it playfully. You flinched. “I'm not done inspecting you. There's still so much to be done before you can fully service me, you know?”

You inhaled sharply, swallowing hard, trying to push the thoughts away. Focus on him. Or on your own survival. Maybe both? Maybe – Your thoughts were once again interrupted when he hooked his finger into the hoop on your collar and pulled you forward, and you stumbled, gasping for air as the wide leather band cut into your neck. He shoved you against another table, your stomach hitting the hard edge, causing you to groan quietly.

“Bend over and put your hands on your ass cheeks,” he instructed. “Pull yourself open for me.”

Shame crashed through you, a different kind of panic crawling down your spine. But you did what he told you, you leaned against the table and bent forwards until your breasts were squished between your body and the cold surface, and your hands moved slowly behind you, shaking badly, but you managed to place them like he had said. You forced yourself to keep your mind empty, not to think about the humiliating position, so you inhaled deeply and closed your eyes, your head turned as you rested your cheek on the table, your fingertips digging between your ass cheeks, pulling.

“Good girl,” you heard him say, and the praise was almost enough to distract you from the cold air hitting your puckered hole. Or the cold lube he squirted on your skin that he then rubbed into you until his finger breached your sphincter. You gasped instinctively. “What a pretty ass you have. So tight. Was I your first, hm?” You choked out a confirmation. “How special,” he whispered, poking deeper before pulling his digit back, only to replace it with two.

You strained against the penetration, holding your breath, tensing up against your better judgment. This should be easier now, after having a hook up your ass, his cock and an unrelenting dildo pumping into your depths, but somehow you had recovered, your muscles tight again, having forgotten everything. Good for them, bad for you. His two fingers felt way too much, especially with how he scissored them to stretch your hole. You squirmed slightly on the table, falling from not daring to breathe to panting uncontrollably.

“I'll have one of my pets give you an enema later,” he then said nonchalantly, making it all worse. “I like my toys squeaky clean, you know?”

You could only whimper as he drilled his fingers deeper, poking at your walls. He might have added another one, you couldn't tell, you felt full already, your rim stretching against his knuckles every time he shoved his hand forwards. He repeated the motion for a while, or so it felt, coaxing little gasps and wails out of you when he pushed particularly deep. And suddenly the pressure was gone, his hand pulled back, but then you felt him grabbing your hands, and without fighting it, he made you curl your own fingers into your stretched hole, holding yourself open.

“Look at you, perfect,” he cooed, giving your exposed depths a little poke that made you flinch. “Stay like that,” he then told you, and you felt too embarrassed and helpless to move anyway.

You heard his footsteps echoing through the room while you forced yourself to dissociate. You almost calmed down a little the longer he stayed away, doing whatever he did with those clanking metal objects, but when he returned, you still issued a surprised shriek when he pushed something cold and hard past your fingers and into your ass.

It was long and thin, scraping against your knuckles, and it kept going, delving deep, deeper than his fingers anyway, its smooth surface sliding easily inside, almost soothing with how cold it felt against your warm muscles. He gave it another prod, then loosened the grip of your fingers. You felt your hole clenching, trying to close around whatever object he had inserted, but when you heard a strange cranking noise, you knew it wouldn't close. Instead he made it move inside you, let it expand, and it felt like it was opening you up even further, those cold metal prongs pressing into your walls, stretching, widening, and the pressure made you whimper.

“Easy, you're doing great,” he said, his voice moving behind you as if he had crouched down to take a closer look at your probably very wide rim and exposed insides. A new wave of shame crashed through you. “Look at that pretty hole. The things I will push inside you,” he sighed, his hand rubbing over your ass cheek before he gave you a sudden slap that made you flinch and clench around the stretching tool in your ass. “And so responsive too. We're gonna have so much fun with your little hole, doll.”

He stood up then, his hands resting on your hips for a moment, fingers digging into soft flesh as he stepped closer, and you could feel the heat of his crotch, the hardness of his bulge, against your sensitive skin. He gave you a little push of his hips, which caused the object stuck inside you to slip deeper, stretching even more of you while your rim puckered up, willing to close but being forced to stay open, the cold metal slowly warming up. A long breath slipped past your tingling lips.

“Hmm? You like that?” he whispered, folding himself over you, repeating the hip thrust, pressing you onto the hard table until your breasts started hurting from his weight. “I can mold you however I want,” he said quietly, his breath ghosting your ear. “I could make you my anal slut, would you like that? We could just ignore your little cunt, maybe I'll give you a chastity belt? Or just tape it shut? Do you want to be denied, doll? Or maybe you'll learn to come from anal alone, wouldn't that be the dream?”

His voice was so soft, but his words were vile, and you alternated between hot and cold shivers, your cunt clenching when it was mentioned, your ass tightening around the object inside it, while your stomach fluttered and your heart skipped a beat.

“But you just arrived here, didn't you?” he continued, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You're still fresh. Would be a shame to deny any of your holes. Don't worry, doll, I'll use all of you. From your tight little ass to your beautiful cunt to your throat, you will service me with all you have.”

He leaned back then, giving you another push that made you gasp, before you felt his fingers between your ass cheeks, fumbling with the object stuck deep inside you. He poked around a little, then slowly pulled it back, without cranking it back to its original size. It was much bigger now then when it had entered you, and you strained, groaned as the hard metal caught on your rim, stretched it further than before, and your muscles ached, screamed, while you forced yourself to remain quiet, your hands finding purpose on your thighs, fingernails digging into your skin.

Eventually it popped out, and the loss of pressure was such a relief that you sighed audibly. “Look at that gape,” you heard him say after he put the object away with a clank. “Beautiful. Now, clench for me, come on,” he added, and you were confused, you thought you'd already clenched, but your muscles didn't seem to respond very well just yet. “I said, clench!” he repeated a little louder, harsher, and before you could follow through with another attempt, he slapped his hand down on your ass cheek, so hard you were shoved firmer against the table, and a squeak escaped you, then a scream when he did it again, and again. Your skin was burning, tight and bruised, when he finally stopped, the echo of his slaps still resounding in your head, your whole body shaking badly.

You rested your entire weight on your torso, your breasts aching, your legs too weak to support you anymore. “There we go,” his voice tried to push through the droning of your pulse in your ears. “Nice and tight again, hm?” He slammed his hand down one more time, this time between your burning ass cheeks, right against your swollen hole. Another scream ripped from your throat.

Suddenly he pulled you up, and you stumbled against him, your hands clawing at his clothes to find any kind of support. He grabbed your throat and held you up, and with how wobbly your legs were, you rested all your weight into that grip, quickly realizing how stupid that was when you started choking, your lungs burning, dark spots dancing at the edge of your blurring vision. Before you could faint, he curled his free arm around your chest and hoisted you up a little, and you sighed and gasped, raspy breaths filling your lungs.

You blinked, dizzy and disoriented, and the next thing you knew, you were sitting on the chair you had wondered about earlier. It was a strange chair, your legs were raised and strapped to leather padded stirrups, your ass hung off the edge of the seat (fortunately, because it was still tight and hurting from his spanking), and your wrists were secured in thick bindings. There was even a strap pressing into your sternum, keeping your shoulders in place. You couldn't move if you wanted to.

And you were glad you couldn't, because suddenly the seat moved and you were reclined backwards and lifted up, and you realized he was sitting on a stool between your wide spread legs, your cunt right on display, inches away from his face. You had no idea this was even possible, but you felt yet another wave of humiliation, and the worst thing, it created these strange tingles low in your body, muscles that shouldn't be clenching, warmth that shouldn't settle.

“Huh, is my little fuckdoll excited?” he commented on the wetness you felt dripping from your cunt. “Aren't you special. I knew you were the right choice.”

His words made you frown, but you decided to ignore them and stare at the white ceiling instead. Nothing else you could do about this anyway. You certainly didn't want to be aroused by all this, but your body was betraying you, and even more so when you felt his hands rubbing along your inner thighs, causing them to twitch in their restraints.

“Before we do anything else, let me take a look at you,” he said, his warm breath so close to your core you couldn't help but clench harder around nothing.

You expected him to insert another object into your cunt, like a doctor would to spread you open and take a look at your insides, like that thing that had been in your ass, but instead he used his fingers, first one, then two, before he hooked them into you and pulled your cunt open. You heard him inhale deeply, and while a deep blush crashed over your face, he suddenly blew into you, making you gasp and flinch, straining against your bindings. A low chuckle escaped him, while you turned your head away in shame.

He kept his fingers inside you, stretched your hole wider, and you could only imagine how he hovered in front of your spread pussy, possibly looking all the way to your cervix. You were too hot and bothered and frankly still ashamed to react in any way, and you could barely issue a little mewl when he removed his fingers and rubbed his palm over your wet labia. When he focused on your clit though, you were forced back into focus with a literal slap.

The sting was imminent, the throbbing pain shooting through your entire body, and he did it again, his flat hand straight to your hooded clit, and not a gentle tap but a real slap, powerful, painful, once, twice, and you wailed, winced, gasped. The worst thing about it? It only made you wetter, and he noticed. His hand moved lower, and when he spanked your pussy, the squelching noise made you sob in embarrassment.

He didn't comment on it, though, instead he slid his fingers along your slit and up under the hood of your clit, and when he gently tugged on your soft flesh and exposed that sensitive bundle of nerves, all you could do was hold your breath, unsure what came next. You didn't expect to feel his warm mouth, his hot tongue poking at the throbbing bud, and the instant twitch it caused in your restrained legs. He kept at it, almost carefully closing his lips around your clit, prodding it, licking it, but then he sucked, and you cried out as the lights exploded behind your eyelids.

He leaned back instantly, his fingers slipping between your folds and into your weeping core, and as he started pumping them in and out fast, his other hand went down on your clit, tapping it, slapping it, harder with each thrust of his hand, and you convulsed in the chair, gasping soundlessly, unable to move, but the twitches had to be released as you felt that tension snapping apart like a coil bursting under the pressure. You came hard, and he kept fingerfucking you through it, until you heard those wet squelches growing louder, and you felt the contractions, the fluttering of your walls, your hips jerking, pumping, as you squirted uncontrollably around his fingers.

It kept going, and he kept going, shoving his digits deep, curling them, stimulating all the sensitive spots inside you, bullying every inch of your cunt, coaxing more and more squirts out of you, and while you could only whine and whimper and cry, held back by the leather straps keeping you in place, you quickly felt exhaustion washing over you, overstimulated as you were, with each jerk of his wrist the tension within you built up again, and again, muscles tightening before they fluttered, pussy pulsing, clit throbbing, pain and pleasure mixing in a way you'd never known before.

Somehow his voice made it through the haze in your head. “What a good cunt, look at you, what a show. I bet you could make a good amount of money like this. My perfect little fuckdoll is such a great squirter too, beautiful. I'll make sure to share your talent with whoever pays the right sum, don't worry.”

With your mind slipping and your body shutting down under the constant assault, you still wished you were too far gone to register his words, especially the ones coming next (because he had the ability to always make it worse).

“But that's enough attention for your cunt. Let's get you ready for your enema now, shall we?”

Chapter 5+6 🔻 Chapter 7 🔺 Chapter 8

End notes: Yup, the topic of the next chapter is indeed enemas as we venture further into the "things I've always found strangely fascinating and always wanted to write about even though I know barely anything about them" territory. Strap in (Reader will be)!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

FORCED MASTERLIST

original story 🚩 very dark and explicit 🚩 AO3

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

SUMMARY:

Accidents happen. Mistakes were made, and while you hoped the handsome stranger would help you through your dilemma, you ended up in his service, paying off a debt that would have changed your life for the worse if you wouldn't have "accepted" his "offer". Unfortunately, your life is still about to change, if you want to or not, and it's not getting any better...

GENERAL TAGS:

nsfw! dead dove: do not eat, female!reader-insert, noncon, Master/servant dynamic, bad BDSM etiquette, manipulation, hurt/no comfort, heavy smut, various kinks (see the warnings at the beginning of each chapter for a more detailed list!)

NOTES:

The male character is almost as vague as our Reader character; there are no physical descriptions whatsoever (except that he's taller than Reader, fit, rich, and a cruel sadist). While he is referred to as Master, Reader is Doll, and every additional character will have a different petname. Everyone is an adult in this story, but the consent will range from dubious to non-existent. This is a very dark fantasy story, as in exploring the darkest and most depraved fantasies I could think of! It's rough, there's no comfort. You have been warned!

CHAPTERS:

chapter 1

chapter 2 + chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5 + chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

...

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

INSPIRATION POSTS

READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 05+06

Is your fever dream over? You doubt so when you wake up trapped in a cage. But then your new reality sinks in...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Cages. Petplay. Butt plugs/spreaders. Humiliation, degradation. Impact play (slapping, spanking, caning). Masochism. Voyeurism/cuckqueaning. Oral sex/deepthroating. Vaginal fingering. Overstimulation. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 7.1k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Again, I put these two chapters into one post because they fit quite well (and I uploaded them individually on AO3 and need to catch up to my schedule over there).

So, we learn a bit more about Master, but he still doesn't have a name or is described physically, that's where you come in: turn him into your favorite blorbo if you want! Reader is just as vague (with hair long enough to braid and female genitalia). Also I'd like to add that I use the term "girl" a lot in these chapters, and while I never specified it, please note that all female characters are in fact adults, all adult women, I just like to call them girls.

Now please remember that this is very dark and rough, especially Chapter 6. It is also still fiction, just some smut fantasy and no how-to-guide. So. You've been warned!

For more information, check the Author's Notes on chapter 1.

Chapter 4 🔻 Chapter 5+6 🔺 Chapter 7

A low rumble woke you. Turning onto your side, you groaned, your whole body sore and hurting. Your mind was still hazy when you opened your eyes to find yourself lying on a cozy cushion, but as you tried to stretch your legs, your feet bumped into something. You weren't bound, yet you couldn't go anywhere either.

A dim light illuminated the room. You couldn't see far. But you could see the bars surrounding you on all sides. Thin yet sturdy looking metal bars, even above you. You reached out a hand, seeing it shaking from exhaustion, and when your fingers curled around one of the rods, you felt how unyielding they actually were. Blinking in confusion, you sat up, as best as you could, with your legs pulled against your chest and your head tilted to fit into the tight space – and you realized you were in a cage.

Panic flooded your strained body, and you pulled on the bars, rattled the metal, but nothing gave, you only exhausted yourself even more. Breathing harder, you looked around with a quiet whine, when a cold shiver crashed through you. You weren't the only one in the room. There were more cages, lining the walls, some were even suspended in the air, and all of them were occupied – with other girls. Most were still sleeping, and you could only see their prone forms, but others were awake as you were, and they were watching you through the bars of their own confinements, yet their eyes were vacant, dull, as if they'd accepted their fate a long time ago.

Their fate. Of being what? A pet? Treated like a fucking dog? Put in a cage? You were wearing the respective collar, and you were naked, like they all were. Your heart beat faster. This isn't happening. Your hands curled around the bars again, and you shook them, grunting with every attempt to get out, but there was no way. There wasn't even a visible lock.

You were crying and whimpering, pleading to whoever heard you to let you out, please, this was a mistake, I don't belong here, and by the time you realized you weren't strong enough to do anything to that awful cage, you felt even worse, and when you looked around, you saw some of the girls watching you, one of them had her finger on her lips as if to shush you.

You remembered then that they might all be mute like the two girls you had the pleasure of meeting the last time you were awake, and the mere idea of having your vocal chords removed sent a deep shiver down your spine. You wiped at your wet face, trying to calm yourself. Nothing else you could do.

“It'll get better,” you then heard a faint voice from somewhere above you. You strained your neck until you saw a girl talking to you, her slim arm dangling down from between the bars of her suspended cage. It was swaying slightly. “Just do what he tells you to do. It's fine...”

You wanted to say, no, it's not fine, this is horrible, how can you just accept this, he can't do this to me, to us, but before you could reply, a clack sounded and the lights in the room turned on all at once, making you squint at the sudden brightness.

There was a general shuffling of cushions and quiet aching of metal, and when you looked around, you saw all the girls waking up. They all assumed the same pose, on their knees, with their arms folded in front of them and their heads bowed deeply. There were at least ten on the ground, you included, and five suspended in the air.

You ducked your head when another loud click made you look towards the back of the room where a door opened. In came the man whose car you'd damaged, who'd made you sign this stupid contract, who'd done all these vile things to you. You cowered, unintentionally assuming the same position as the girls around you.

Nonchalant as he was in his dark suit, he was carrying a tablet, not even looking at the cages as he crossed the room, but as he went, some of the confinements opened with a strange whirring sound. “Get your breakfast, pets,” he told them casually, and five of the girls slowly crawled out of their cages, remained on their hands and knees, formed a line and exited the room, without making a single noise, heads bowed obediently as they clambered away. What a strange sight. But it got even weirder. You noticed they were all wearing butt plugs with a fluffy tail attached, finishing the whole pet theme.

The rest of the girls on the ground remained in their kneeling positions, waiting for their turn apparently. The man, however, came closer to your own cage, but instead of addressing you, he looked up at the girl suspended in the air next to you. She was quiet now, the arm retreated into the slightly swinging confinement.

He sighed as he pressed something on his tablet, and you watched with your heart beating faster how the cage was lowered to the ground, though it never touched it completely. The girl inside was kneeling too, but she was staring at the man, and you could have sworn there was defiance in her eyes, not the same vacant gaze the others sported.

Suddenly his hand shot through the bars and gripped the girl's throat. She gasped audibly, yet the hard edge remained in her eyes. “You really like getting punished, hm, slut?”

In your own cage just a few feet away, you flinched at the crude name, having assumed these girls would all have some sort of pet names, literally, like pet, bird, doll. To your further surprise, the girl, who had a black ribbon attached to her braid, bit her lip and replied: “Yes, master.”

He stared at her, but there was a smirk on his face. “Good,” he said and let go of her, straightening up again. “You'll help train our newest addition today.”

You winced as his gaze met yours, and you shrunk away into your cage. The whirring sounded again and both your and the cage of the defiant girl opened with a hiss.

“Get out,” he commanded, but you couldn't move.

The girl with the black bow (whose name you really didn't want to repeat) crawled out of her own cage, gracefully climbing down the last inches, swaying her naked hips (and you noticed the strange contraption in her butt, no plug or tail, but a spreader, allowing a perfect view into her ass, a sight you really didn't want to look at for long).

“Help her, slut,” the man said, and you ducked away more when the girl kept moving on her hands and knees towards your cage, tilting her head, staring at you intently, mouthing something you couldn't understand but got a notion what she wanted to say anyway: Play along.

You swallowed hard and nodded, letting the girl grab the loop on your collar and pull you after her as she backed out slowly. The man watched you emerge from the cage with a stoic expression, then leaned down to pat the girl's head, saying: “Good slut.”

You were about to get to your feet, stretch your limbs after having spent who knows how long in that cramped cage, but as soon as you tried, the man shook his head and the other girl pulled you down, her eyes widened as she shook her head as well. You frowned, but resumed your kneeling position, looking up in confusion.

“Be a good doll, yeah?” the man addressed you, his hand caressing your warm cheek. You blinked, but found yourself nodding into his palm. He smiled at you, the sight something that made the whole situation a little less frightening. He then moved his hand to the other girl, but instead of caressing her cheek, he slapped it, hard, but the girl barely flinched away, she even mewled a little. “I'll deal with you later,” he told her, and she licked her lips and nodded. “Bring her to Room D, I'll be there in five.”

“Yes, master,” she replied and bowed low, before she pressed her lips to his shiny shoes. You watched the scene with a deep crease between your eyebrows.

Somewhere behind you another door opened, and when the black ribbon girl turned and started crawling towards it, you threw one last glance at the tall man (who gave you a nod, then turned towards another cage) before you followed, though you kept your eyes fixed on the cold stone floor instead of the view in front of you. It looked painful to have one's asshole stretched that wide, and you really didn't want to see all the way into her bowels.

Walking on your hands and knees, crawling like a dog, felt humiliating, but all the girls were doing it, and you really didn't want to get punished, in whatever way, so you bit the inside of your cheek and played along. As soon as the girl moved through the open door, your curious gaze fell onto the interior. Your heart sank.

One side was lined with a concerning amount of spanking tools: riding crops, whips, floggers, canes, paddles, belts, and so many other things you didn't even have a name for. The next held a variety of cuffs and harnesses, all in shiny leather, as well as a lot of neatly curled up rope bundles. In one corner you saw wooden structures on the wall and in front of it, X-shapes, T-shapes, upside-down Y-shapes, with more cuffs and leather straps dangling from them. There were also various hoops attached to the walls and the ceiling, some already equipped with ropes.

On the last wall, where the other girl was leading you, was a large mirror. You quickly averted your eyes from your own reflection, it was too strange seeing yourself naked on all fours with a collar around your neck and various bite marks and bruises on your chest where the two girls had gone to town on you last night (the memory was hazy, but seeing the evidence didn't make it any easier to process). Focusing on something else, you noticed what stood in front of the mirror: a long row of dog bowls.

Your stomach churned at the sight, both in disgust and shock, but also in plain hunger. You couldn't even remember when you last ate. The girl stopped in front of one bowl and leaned down, as flat as humanly possible (with her ass raised high), bringing her mouth close to whatever food was waiting for her and started eating straight out of it, the crunch of whatever she was eating echoing loudly through the room.

You stared at her with wide eyes, not moving any further. “Come on,” she said through a mouthful of what looked either like one of those healthy cereals or really dry dog kibble. “Eat as long as you can. It's really not that bad.”

“What is it?” you asked quietly, your own voice hoarse from misuse and your past exertions.

“Not dog food, surprisingly,” the other girl replied, diving back in to munch on her food, shaking her rear absentmindedly.

You approached the bowl tentatively. As soon as you leaned down, resting on your hands with your elbows pointed away from you, the humiliation you felt turned into something else, the need to eat, to silence your rumbling stomach, and when you pulled a few bits between your lips, you inhaled deeply at the sugary taste. It was indeed cereal, not the happy kind, but at least it was sweet enough to endure the dry taste.

A sudden slurping and lapping sound made you freeze with your mouth full, and you saw the other girl focusing on another bowl, this one filled with a white liquid, and when you followed suit, turning your attention to the bowl next to the one you had just ate out of, you smelled it was milk, and you happily leaned down to drink some too. Drink wasn't the word, you really had to dip your tongue in and slobber it up, it was messy and uncoordinated, but it filled your mouth with a velvety feel and helped get the dry cereal down.

“Look at you go,” you heard the girl laugh beside you. “A natural. Took me way longer to adjust to eat like this.”

You looked up, then raised a hand to wipe at your mouth, blinking. “How long have you been here?” you whispered.

She sat back on her haunches, tilting her head. “No idea. I lost all concept of time down here. Doesn't matter, really. Not that we can go anywhere anyway, right?”

You frowned deeply, sitting up as well, scooping up some cereal into your hand to pop them into your mouth one by one. “What do you mean?” you asked while chewing.

The girl sighed. “Are you one of those who didn't read the contract?”

“Contract? Wait, he had you sign one too?”

“Yeah, all of us, as stupid as we were. I tried to read mine, but, well, he wasn't in the mood to give me time that day. Grabbed my hand and forged my signature while giving me a good pounding at the same time...” She sighed again, licking her lips as if reminiscing the moment. “I really don't mind. At least I get fed and have a roof over my head and don't have to worry about the state of the world, you know? And honestly... it's not that bad to service a hot guy like him, isn't it?”

“But it's not right! He can't force us to do this!” you exclaimed, staring at the other girl with tears brimming in your eyes. “Force us to do any of this!” You shook your head vehemently, waving your hand around, the first tears rolling past your lashes.

“Oh, but it is, and he can. It's his right. We signed away our lives to him. Whatever we did before doesn't matter,” she said, watching you closely. “How did you end up here, hm? Spilled your drink on his fancy suit?”

“Bumped into his car while drunk,” you mumbled, looking away, feeling defeated. “And couldn't pay for the damage...”

The girl laughed. “Ah, the guilt trip. Gave you the option to make you serve him to let you repay your debt? Classic.”

“What did you do?” you whispered, eyeing her from under your lashes.

“Kicked him in the balls for touching me in the club,” she replied, grinning wickedly. “He was not happy. Blackmailed me into following him, then presented me with that contract... and then couldn't wait to punish me for my behavior. I think I was high that night, I mean why reject a guy like him in the first place, hm? Also, turns out, I'm kinda into all that kinky shit anyway,” she added with a chuckle, wriggling her hips in her kneeling position – and you noticed how she pressed the heel of her foot right between her ass cheeks.

You looked away when she let out a soft moan. “It's still wrong... treating us like animals. Oh, and cutting out our vocal chords? What the hell is up with that?” you hissed, looking back at the girl who stopped her wriggling with a sigh. “Wait, you still have yours...”

“As do you,” she replied with a wink. “He seems to still consider what he'll do with you. And not all girls have lost their voices, only those he rents out to other perverts. It's his safest bet to send those who can't talk and possibly rat him out, you know? Me, for example, I'm safe, because he really likes my screams,” she added and looked towards the wall full of whips and paddles.

You shivered deeply as you followed her almost longing gaze.

“Don't worry, you'll find your purpose, or he'll find it for you,” the girl whispered. “I'm his pain slut, and I love it... and you will learn to love your new role as well, don't worry.”

“Don't really have a choice, now do I?” you replied bitterly, staring down at the bowl in front of you. “This is so degrading...”

“Nah, could be worse. There were girls once he fed actual dog food to, and he kept them in cages outside, with the real animals. They had to wear muzzles and dildo gags all day long, and I think he may even had his dogs fuck them, but that might have been just a rumor to make the rest of us behave...”

You stared at the girl with wide eyes, feeling your stomach churning for completely different reasons. Your horror grew, and you wished the other girl wouldn't share all these things with you, but she didn't seem to be able to read the room, or was just glad to use her voice for something other than screams for once. Because she didn't stop.

“Hey, I'd take a puny dog penis, even with the knot, as long as I don't have to be mounted by a horse or a bull. Those things are nasty and huge, and I bet you'll be utterly destroyed afterwards...”

“God, please stop!” you choked out, feeling bile creeping up your throat. Breathing heavily through your nose, you looked away, fighting tears.

“Sorry, must be all a little much for someone like you, hm?” the girl said quietly, but with a mocking tone. “He calls you doll, eh? Suits you, as innocent as you look. I'm sure you'll be treated better than those poor souls outside...”

Even though the mere thought of being an actual animal's plaything revolted you to no end, it didn't make you feel better about how you were treated before, bound and gagged and strapped to a fucking machine, ending up with a collar and in a cage, eating out of a bowl off the ground. No matter how you looked at it, it was all awful, and you didn't want any of it. But you also couldn't see a way out, and you knew you were bound by that horrible contract, bound to this man, having to endure whatever he told you to do, so there was nothing you could do but to adjust, to endure, hoping he might still let you go some day.

Perhaps, if you were on your best behavior, you might have a chance at surviving all this without losing too much of yourself. Biting your lip, you looked at the other girl who was back to pressing the heel of her foot into her gaping ass, a mellow expression on her face.

“So, uh,” you said quietly, feeling awkward to witness such a scene, but you should have been past awkward by now, being naked all the time, being treated like an animal, humiliated beyond belief (though you were sure now that there were worse ways of spending your time here), so you only cleared your throat, waiting for the girl to pass her attention back to you. “So I just do what he says, and I'll be fine?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, rolling her shoulders. “Be as obedient as you can be. Call him Master. Never do anything unprompted unless he tells you to. Be good. Be his doll. Then you'll be fine.”

You nodded, looking back at the dog bowl. Trying to distract yourself, you went back down on your hands and knees, leaning on your forearms, and lapped up a little bit more milk, feeling parched and empty. Your mind was still reeling, but the strange way of drinking had you concentrate so much, you didn't even hear the hissing sound of the door opening behind you.

[READ ON AO3]

“Time for another training session, doll.”

His words made your heart skip a beat, for whatever reasons (the timbre of his voice or the implications?). Slowly you leaned up, but remained in your crouched position over the milk bowl, waiting for the command to stand up. Next to you, the other girl assumed a slightly different position, with her face pressed to the ground and her ass in the air, and a little hum escaped her as she shook her hips a little.

“Not so eager, slut,” you heard him say with a sigh. “Doll, get up.”

Your breath hitched when you scrambled to your feet, turning slowly before you stood stock-still before him, head bowed, hands folded in front of your sex. He stepped closer and grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. You met his gaze, chills rushing down your spine. He looked you over sternly, then wiped at the corner of your mouth as his lips curled into a smirk.

“I hope you're still hungry. I got another treat for you,” he told you with a wink.

You felt yourself blushing badly, the warmth spread from your cheeks down your shoulders all the way between your thighs, and you couldn't help pressing them together slightly. He hooked his finger into the hoop at your collar and gently pulled you after him as he started walking to the middle of the room.

“Slut, on the X-frame,” he said over your head, and you heard the shuffle of the other girl behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her crawling her way to the wooden structures lining the wall. “Doll, eyes on me,” he suddenly scolded, and you gasped, looking back fully at him, eyes wide, swallowing hard. He smiled. “Good.” You blinked, feeling a strange pulsing in your pussy.

“I'm ready, master,” the girl interrupted the little moment that left you slightly confused. The man patted your cheek, then walked past you.

“Stay there, doll. And watch,” he said as he stepped closer to the girl leaning against a large wooden X, arms raised, hands holding onto leather straps, while her legs were spread as well, exposing her shaved mound. He bent down to fasten thick cuffs around her ankles, before doing the same with her wrists when he straightened up again. Then, completely unprovoked, he slapped the girl so hard her head spun to the side. She inhaled sharply, but didn't show any other sign of discomfort.

“Thank you, master,” she even said, and from your watching position, you frowned deeply, feeling a little uneasy as the girl's cheek started blooming bright red.

“Come here, doll,” he called you, and it took you a moment to react, too shocked by the display.

You shuffled towards him, breathing a little harder, hands still clasped in front of your sex, arms squishing your breasts together. You might have somehow lost the shame of being naked, seeing that every girl here looked about the same as you, but you still felt a little uncomfortable, the anticipation of what was to come sitting heavy on your shoulders, knowing there was not a single layer of fabric to protect you.

The man turned to you, tilting his head. You looked up obediently. “So, before we start, let's talk a bit, shall we?” he said quietly, watching you closely. “Of course you are aware of the terms of our contract,” he added mockingly, knowing full well you didn't read a single line of it. “But let me sum it up for you a little.”

You held his gaze, tensing up as he continued.

“You are to address me as Master, you will do whatever I say without hesitation and only when I say so. You are my servant now, which means that you will serve me however I see fit. If you disobey or hesitate or show other signs of defiance, you will get punished. Like Slut here,” he finished, his hand moving to one of the girl's breasts. He groped it hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh, nails scratching over her skin, but the girl only held her breath. He ended the demonstration by slapping the plump mound with his flat hand, once, twice, until the girl issued a single gasp.

“What did she do, you may wonder? Well, she likes to provoke me, don't you, slut?” He slapped her breasts again, and again, red marks forming on her pale skin. “Don't you?” he repeated louder, his hand returning to her face, a harsh pat finding her already red cheek.

“Yes, master,” she croaked out, inhaling deeply through her nose. “I'm sorry, master.”

His hand met her cheek again, a lot harder this time, and she cried out as her head snapped to the side. “Don't lie to me. Tell Doll why you keep provoking me.”

You stared at the scene, frozen to the spot, appalled and frightened by the presentation of raw power. You felt tears burning under your lashes, but forced yourself not to cry. The other girl looked at you, her own eyes reddened.

“I like the pain,” she whispered. “I like being punished by Master. It... it gets me off...”

His hand moved down her restrained body before he cupped her sex with a fierce grip, causing the girl to arch up. His fingers dug into her folds, a squelching sound echoing through the room. “Oh yeah, so wet for a little bit of pain...” He sighed and shook his head. “You should be ashamed of yourself, slut.”

The girl bowed her head, breathing harder as he kept pushing his fingers in and out of her cunt. But then he stopped, and landed a few blows of his flat hand right on her swollen clit, making her convulse against the wooden frame she was tied to. You would have expected a shrill shriek or a scream, instead the girl moaned loudly.

“Thank you, master,” she breathed out. He slapped her clit once more, then pinched it between his fingers, and the girl howled in ecstasy, throwing her head back and pushing her hips forward. “Yes, yes, thank you, master.”

He let go of her then, wiping his wet hand on her fluttering stomach. “I'm not done with you yet, slut,” he said quietly before turning around to look at their silent witness.

You flinched at the attention, looking up at him with wide eyes, expecting the worst. He raised his hand, and you winced in anticipation, but then he only caressed your cheek, smiling softly down at you. “What a patient doll you are. I knew it the moment you fell on your knees in front of me,” he whispered, and you shuddered at the vague memory. “So submissive. Good little doll. Do you want your treat now?”

Confusion washed over you. “T-treat, si- master?” you stammered, biting your lip, still a little estranged by the situation, by your new role, unsure what exactly was expected of you.

He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. “Second breakfast, if you will,” he said, winking at you. His other hand moved to his belt, and you blinked as you followed the motion with your eyes. His long fingers expertly unbuckled his belt, opened the button at the top of his black dress pants, then pulled the zipper down. You were well aware of the gesture, but when his hard erection sprang free as he pushed the fabric down, you still let out an audible gasp.

“I want you to suck me off,” he told you, his hand back at your chin to make you look up. “Make me cum down your throat, yes, doll? And Slut here has to watch, but whenever you make a mistake or I'm not satisfied with how you handle me, she will get punished. Do you understand?”

You stared at him, your eyes flicking to the girl behind him for a moment. “I... uh...” You deemed it very unfair that someone else would be punished for your mistakes, but then you nodded, looking back into the man's eyes. “Yes, master, I understand.”

You knew there was nothing you could do. You had to obey, this was your life now that you had signed it away to this sadistic stranger. Inhaling deeply, you held his gaze, until he released your chin and pointed to the ground.

“Kneel,” he said, and you did, slowly going down, then sitting back on your haunches, looking up at him. “Now show me what a good doll you can be,” he said quietly, his hands on his hips as he looked down at you. “And remember, no biting, no pinching, any trick, and slut here will suffer the consequences. You can use your hands today, but for the future, I expect you to do this with your arms folded behind your back, understood?”

“Y-yes, master,” you mumbled, swallowing hard before wetting your lips in anticipation.

You weren't new to this, had a few dicks in your mouth before (his included, even if it was only through the ring gag), but you'd never felt this intimidated by it. The man was exuding dominance in his fancy black suit and tall stature, and the prospect of potentially harming the other girl by doing something wrong, made you feel sick to your stomach. Inhaling deeply, you scooted closer, your hands tentatively running up his legs before you closed one around his impressive girth.

Both of your hands were needed to fully envelop him, and you started stroking him slowly, up and down, your eyes fixed on his throbbing cock as you pushed the tight skin over his hardened core, palm closing around the tip with every upwards stroke, giving it a light squeeze.

“Use your mouth, doll,” he said, voice dark, bordering on impatient, and when you looked up, he had one hand on the girl's nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

You nodded quickly and leaned in, bending his hard member down to meet your level before you closed your lips around his spongy tip. His taste and smell flooded your senses, and you couldn't help the heat crashing into your stomach and lower, as you started bobbing your head gingerly, tongue rubbing along his underside as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. A tiny shiver went through his body, and he moved his free hand to your head, patting it gently, while still pinching the other girl's pert bud.

Her soft whimpers mixed with the wet slurping sounds and your own muffled little gasps for air as you tried to take him deeper, teasing at the back of your throat. Your hands moved to cup his balls and grip his base respectively, giving gentle squeezes and massages as you continued moving your head back and forth. You thought you were doing a good job, you even held eye contact through it all. But his gaze darkened and his hand on your head tightened its grip as he moved it back to fist your hair.

With a smack he pulled you against his groin, and you gagged immediately as his cock forced its way into your throat, your hand tightening around his balls while the other slipped lower to grip at his thigh. He pulled you back and repeated the motion, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut as another convulsion ripped through your body, more spit gathering in your mouth.

“Eye contact, doll,” he hissed, and you forced yourself to look at him, even though tears burned in your eyes. He had raised his hand and was now slapping the girl's breasts, left, right, until she let out a little whimper and turned her head away, struggling in her restraints. “Always look at me when you're giving me head,” he added, staring down at you, while his hand continued to slap the already bruised chest of the other girl.

You nodded with his cock in your mouth, hoping a muffled confirmation was enough for him. Eventually he rested his hand on the girl's sternum, pressing her to the wall, holding her there. Meanwhile you continued your head bobbing, barely able to pull back enough to draw breaths with his hand still fisting your braid, but you forced yourself to calm down, breathe through your nose, fight your gag reflex. It didn't work, and you kept gagging whenever he breached your throat. Saliva and precum dripped down your chin, joined by silent tears rolling out of the corners of your eyes.

“Hurry up,” he said through gritted teeth, and his hand was back to spanking the bound girl, this time on her sex, coaxing breathless gasps out of her whenever he hit her clit or puffy pussy lips.

You felt your heart beating faster, and you tried your best, doubled your efforts, sucked and bobbed, fingers massaging his balls, tongue rubbing along his cock, the slurping sounds turning into wet gurgling noises as you forced yourself to push him into your throat over and over again. You were lightheaded when you finally felt his balls tightening, before his length twitched inside your mouth, and his hand gripped the back of your head and pulled you flush against his groin, causing his dick to slip particularly deep, bulging your neck, his pubic hair tickling in your nose.

You tried to extend your tongue, making it easier on you, but another gag came anyway, filling your mouth with spit. Your lungs burned, the urge to breathe and pull away was overpowering, and your eyelids fluttered before your eyes squeezed shut under the strain on your throat, the pain too much to keep your eyes open and on him. He groaned as he came down your throat, and you felt each rope of hot cum before it slid down slowly, gathering heavy in your almost empty stomach.

You felt another gag approaching, but then he pulled back, released you from his tight grip, and you spluttered, coughed, saliva and cum dripping from your swollen lips. He was still spurting thick globs onto your face, and you leaned back instinctively, eyes fluttering open even though your vision was blurry, before he slapped his wet cock against your lips, then your cheeks, more specks of cum painting your flushed skin, slowly dripping down, joining your tears and spit.

Your breaths were frantic, but you forced yourself to remain calm, awaiting his judgment. He wiped the tip of his dick over your eyebrows, adding to the sticky feeling and growing humiliation. Your stomach churned, be it because of the unusual meal or because you felt awful being treated like this.

“Tongue out,” he ordered, and you did so, extending your tongue flat and wide, not in the mind to care about more of his cum slipping out of your mouth and down your chin, dripping on your heaving chest and the floor below.

His gaze was dark as he pressed his cock back into your mouth, moving it in a circular motion as if to clean himself. You held still, new tears burning in your eyes. Then he sighed and leaned back, quickly tucking himself away again.

“Could have been worse,” he said, tilting his head. “We still have a lot of training to do, doll.”

You bowed your head in shame, a deep blush creeping up your soiled cheeks.

“I expect you to swallow everything I give you,” he went on, grabbing your chin. You blinked. “You wasted a lot of good seed. Lick it up.” His command made you stiffen, and you followed the movement of his shoe to see the thick specks of white on the stone floor in front of you. “Don't make me repeat myself,” he added quietly, anger in his usually smooth voice.

You gasped and bent down, breathing harder. Feeling even more horrible, you tentatively leaned closer and extended your tongue. So degrading... Silent sobs emerged from your hurting throat as you started licking his spend off the ground, the taste even worse as when he shot it onto your tongue. Swallowing hard, you leaned up, looked at him, still feeling his cum dripping down your face.

“Clean yourself up,” he then said, watching you stoically.

You wiped at your face, trying to rid yourself of the sticky stuff caked to your eyebrows, but when your hands were covered, you hesitated, biting your lip.

“Lick it off,” he commanded, and you closed your eyes and nodded, licking your fingers clean while your body still shook with the occasional sob and whimper. “Good,” he said when you were done, and the barely there praise didn't make you feel any better.

You sat on your knees, head bowed, hands folded in your lap, quietly fighting through the humiliation. A sudden smack made you wince, and you looked up to see the man standing before the other girl who convulsed under the intensity of his slaps. His flat hand landed hard blows to her breasts, to her cheeks, to her clit and pussy, but she barely issued more than a few hisses.

“Get me the cane, doll,” the man told you, and you stared at his broad back, then moved your eyes to the wall of spanking tools. A cold shiver crashed through you. “Now!” he bellowed.

You gasped and quickly scrambled to your feet, approaching the wall with apprehension. Your hand was shaking when you took the thin wooden stick off its hook before you quickly returned to him. He closed his fingers around the item, and the first hit made you scream in unison with the bound girl as it snapped against her sensitive skin, leaving an angry red welt right over her left breast.

Suddenly his hand was around your throat, and you felt yourself being pushed against the wall next to the X-frame, your hands automatically flying up to grip his wrist. His eyes met your frightened gaze. “Watch and learn. If you disobey me or if you do a bad job, you will get punished,” he told you, raising the cane again to land another blow to the poor girl's chest. She cried out, jerking away, struggling in her restraints.

“This is just one way of showing you your place,” he continued, the wooden stick whooshing through the air again, and again, hitting the girl's soft stomach, urging more screams out of her hoarse throat. “You are my property. You do as I say,” he said, each sentence ending with another swig of the cane and another ear-splitting scream. You felt sick, sobbing quietly in his grip. “You will make the effort to become better. I'm giving you food and shelter, I expect you to be grateful. You will thank me when I give you attention, when I punish you, when I allow you to come. I am your master,” he ended, the thin stick raining down on the girl's body in rapid succession, leaving a series of red stripes all over her pale skin.

The girl was wailing, crying as much as you were, and you didn't get spanked and violated. But watching this scene was almost as bad. Eventually the man lowered the cane, inhaling sharply, his grip on your throat loosening as well. When he let you go, you slumped down the wall a bit, your legs shaking so badly you were barely able to stand on them. The girl hung in her restraints, labored breaths rattling out of her throat, eyes closed, face tear-soaked, mutilated chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You did good, slut,” he told her, his hand rubbing over her lower stomach to then cup around her reddened mound. He even hit her clit and pussy with the cane, and the memory alone made you flinch badly as you stood beside them, watching silently. “Do you want to come now?” he asked, ignoring anyone's discomfort.

“Yes, master,” the girl rasped quietly. “Please, master...”

He nodded, stepping in front of the X-frame and rolled the cane along the girl's fluttering stomach before he moved it up to her face and made her bite down on it. His hand moved between her spread legs, and by the wet squelching sounds, you knew he was plunging them deep into the girl's pussy. You looked away then, feeling uncomfortable watching such an intimate scene, but the noises were enough to make your own cunt clench needily around nothing.

The bound girl gasped and moaned around the cane between her teeth, the man's fingers moved quickly, in and out, and you'd call the wet noises obscene if you hadn't just witnessed something much worse. Muffled wails and whimpers filled the room, fingers pushed into squishy flesh, and you could only imagine the feeling of warmth gathering inside the girl when the man curled his digits and bullied her sensitive spots. He went even quicker, and the girl gasped and sobbed, rattling in her restraints.

“Watch, doll,” he hissed, and your eyes flew up to him, then to his hand, then to the face of the girl, contorted in nothing but bliss as she suddenly cried out, the wooden stick falling from her open mouth, clattering noisily to the ground, her eyes rolling back, and her hips bucked against his hand as she gushed around him, her convulsing body squirming in the hold of the cuffs, something wet splattering to the ground.

“Th-thank you, m-master,” she tried to articulate between moans, voice cut up by harsh inhales. She kept squirting as the man kept assaulting her fluttering cunt, and after what must have been at least three orgasms, the girl collapsed, going limp with her head hanging low, her arms straining against her binds.

He pulled his fingers out of the girl's cunt and wiped them on her bruised breasts, gave one of them a short squeeze, before exhaling loudly. You were shaking in your watching position, face flushed, thighs pressed together, your own arousal dripping down your legs. When he turned to you, you winced and bowed your head, breathing harder. His hand found your nape, then moved along the length of your braid.

“I'm sure you will be a good doll for me,” he whispered, playing with the pink ribbon holding your hair together. “You take this all surprisingly well.” You looked up hesitantly, biting your lip.

“Thank you, master,” you breathed out, a little shocked how easy those words came to you now.

He smiled at you, his hand nudging your chin gently. “Come on then, it's time for your inspection,” he then said and hooked his finger into your collar. You stumbled after him, unsure what that meant, and kept looking back at the unconscious girl still strapped to the X-frame. “Don't worry about her. My men will take care of her.”

Somehow that didn't console you in the slightest.

Chapter 4 🔻 Chapter 5+6 🔺 Chapter 7

End notes: Don't worry, the girl will be fine... probably. Also, let's just imagine her to be a bit more chubby, so the caning of her breasts and stomach isn't as bad... Next up: inspection time!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 04

You wake up to a new scene, and new participants. Things escalate rather quickly, and there's nothing you can do about it.

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Bondage. Collaring. Fingering. Vaginal fisting. Forced orgasms. Foursome (F/F/F/M). Anal play. Vaginal sex. Rough anal sex. Creampie. (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 3.3k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Remember, this is dark and self-indulgent and hopefully fucked-up in a sexy way? You decide! You also decide who you want the male character to be as he is very vague, and I invite you to fill in the blanks and call him however you like (hence the fandom tags, he could be anyone, make him your blorbo!). Our Reader character is also vague, her only attributes are hair long enough to braid and female genitalia.

For more information, check the Author's Notes on chapter 1.

Chapter 2+3 🔻 Chapter 4 🔺 Chapter 5+6

You hated waking up by now. Because it always meant there was something new to torture you, even though it also meant the end of the last scene. And somehow it was a relief when you found yourself just lying on a soft surface, with nothing poking out of you and nothing holding you down either. No gag, no vibrator. Just your sore body and your dizzy mind.

Inhaling deeply, you raised a hand and wiped at your face. You felt clean, your hair was still a little wet. Had you been washed? Looking around, your question was answered by the sight of two other girls, naked with their hair in braids, wearing thick leather collars, their vacant eyes trained on you as they stood at the edge of your bed. They stirred when you sat up in shock and confusion, shaking their heads. You frowned, too stunned to protest when one of them pulled you off the bed and onto your feet, while the other stepped behind you and grabbed your wrists.

They were too fast, and you could barely fight it when you felt your arms being folded behind your back, so tight your hands curled around your elbows, before you felt them being secured with a soft rope. You rolled your shoulders slightly, but couldn't move, staring at the girls in mild betrayal, too overwhelmed to use your voice properly. They didn't say a word either, just maneuvered you to a chair in the corner, made you sit down, before one of them started braiding your hair, while the other approached you with a collar in her open palms, presented to you like a crown.

“No,” you whimpered soundlessly, your throat hurting, your voice meek and feeble. It didn't stop you from trying to get your point across. “Please don't...”

A harsh “Tsk” cut through your noises of distress, and you looked up sharply, seeing the man standing behind the girl holding the collar. He was so tall and intimidating, his dark suit such a stark contrast to all the exposed skin around him.

“I'll take it from here, pet,” he said, putting his hand on the shoulder of the slowly bowing girl before he moved her aside with a little shove. He took the collar and proceeded to fasten it around your neck, despite your whimpers and fruitless struggling attempts. He stared at you darkly, freezing you with his gaze, and you stared back, breathing hard, trying to relax as he pulled the wide collar tight around your throat, slipping belt after belt into its loop until it sat snug around your neck, feeling stiff and very restricting. Then he turned it so the metal hoop was at the front.

He hooked his finger into it and pulled you forward, and you stumbled off the chair, choking a little, unable to find your balance without being able to use your arms. The girl behind you followed, quickly finishing your braid, and when it was done, you could see a little pink ribbon fixed to the end in a beautiful bow. You frowned. The other girls had similar ribbons, just in different colors, all pastels, yellow and blue. The man stood between the naked girls with a satisfied smile on his handsome face.

His hand found your cheek, gently patting it. “Welcome to the flock, doll,” he said and leaned in to press his lips to yours. You blinked in confusion, heat crashing into your face. “Your training went very well. I believe you are ready to serve me properly now. Don't you think so, pets?” he addressed the other girls, and they nodded eagerly, bowing their heads, not saying a word.

You frowned deeper. He seemed to read your mind. “Don't expect a peep from them, I had their vocal chords removed. Makes for better access into their little throats, you know?” he said with a demeaning smirk, rubbing along one of their collared necks.

Your eyes widened in growing shock and disgust. “Don't worry, you will keep yours for now. I do enjoy your little noises,” he said and winked at you. Your stomach dropped, and you pressed your lips into a tight line, trying to ease your rapid breathing. What the hell had you gotten yourself into here?

To make matters worse, the man then started to undress in front of you. After shrugging his suit jacket off (that one of the girls carried to a nearby chair), he unbuttoned his white shirt, his dark eyes on you.

“Well, shall we begin?” he whispered, and before you could do anything, you felt the girls leading you back to the bed, pulling you onto it, holding you in their unrelenting grips.

Your fingers were tingling in their tight ties, the pressure of your own weight on your arms only adding to the sensation. You stared at the girls in turn before looking back at the man, who had stripped down completely and was now crawling onto the bed towards you, his erection bobbing menacingly between his legs.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then you felt two small fingers slipping between your lips, while another hand moved down between your thighs, first spreading your legs, then your labia, while the man bowed down to inspect your cunt. You squirmed uncomfortably, whined against the hand holding you, struggled fruitlessly with your arms bound, a strange warmth flooding your limbs, gathering low in your stomach.

“Looking good,” he hummed, his fingers prodding at your clenching hole. “Eager, aren't you?”

You were not, you didn't want to be, but surrounded by naked bodies, still tormented by your past experiences, you felt arousal dripping down your skin. Flooded with shame, you averted your eyes, whining quietly.

The fingers in your mouth pushed in and out slowly, meditatively, while the man knelt between your open legs, tilting his head. “Prepare her for me, pet,” he addressed the girl who had her hands on your folds. She nodded, the yellow bow on the end of her braid dancing on her shoulder, before she moved a little and positioned herself next to your hip, her hand rubbing up and down your mound, small fingers pressing gently between your puffy lips.

The girl behind you wrapped an arm around your chest, her free hand fondling your bare breasts, and you turned your head to her, meeting a loaded gaze. The mute girl, this one wearing a blue ribbon on her braid, smiled shyly at you as she kept groping your soft flesh, fingers teasing your quickly hardening nipple.

“Already having fun, bird?” the man asked, and you noticed he addressed the girl smiling at you. Bird. The other was Pet. You were Doll. Blue, yellow, pink. The only distinctions. Your new role.

Bird nodded softly, lowering her eyes, pinching your pert bud as she kept moving her fingers in and out of your mouth, your breaths quickening slightly. You frowned deeply, thoroughly confused by this whole scene. You'd never been intimate with another girl before, but this felt strangely nice. She wasn't as rough as the man had been.

Pet, however, wasn't as gentle. The hand of the other girl was gripping your sex now, fingers digging between your folds, fingertips teasing into your entrance. She shifted on her knees, moving closer to where the man was kneeling, and he scooted back a little, allowing her better access to your cunt. And while she worked her fingers into your clenching hole, you felt the man gripping your ankles, holding you down as your legs started to kick out involuntarily.

A muffled gasp escaped you when you felt and saw how the girl with the yellow bow slipped three fingers into you, her delicate hand small enough to make it easy to penetrate you. It still felt like a lot, and you groaned against the fingers in your mouth. Bird's lips were on your temple, and if she could, she would probably have shushed you.

You kept struggling under the ministrations of the girls, fruitlessly jerking your legs against the strong hands on them. Your eyes were wide, but your vision blurry with tears. It got only worse when you noticed more pressure between your legs, and when you tried to focus on what was happening there, you saw that Pet had worked her entire hand into your pulsing pussy and was now slowly moving it in and out, her wrist catching on your tense muscles.

Moans and whimpers slipped past the probing fingers, and when you arched your back into the girl behind you, those fingers slipped deeper, prodding the back of your throat, and you gagged around them, the jerk crashing through your body making your hips stutter, causing Pet's hand to move in further – and you felt how she spread her fingers inside you, stretching you, finding space where none should be.

You howled, spit dripping down your chin, your whole body convulsing badly as the hand in your cunt moved faster, deeper, pressed into your soft flesh, nudged all those special spots. You could swear you saw a little bulge on your belly where she quite literally rearranged your guts with her fist. It was the strangest sensation, so invasive, so filling, so weirdly stimulating.

Bird's fingers kept their relentless assault on your throat, making you gag again and again until you were too exhausted to gag some more, your stomach tense and hurting (fluttering under the assault from within), your insides positively on fire now, but it was when you felt a rough thumb pressing on your swollen clit, that you lost it completely.

Eyes rolling back, body going stiff before it started spasming hard, thighs twitching, toes curling, every muscle contracting as you clenched hard around the hand in your convulsing cunt. You screamed soundlessly, breathlessly, against the fingers stuck in your throat, pressed your chest into the hand groping your tit, bucked your hips against the prodding thumb. A million lights exploded all around you, and you felt yourself floating, carried away by the waves of pleasure threatening to drown you. Nothing mattered anymore.

Was it over? Finally? It felt like it...

But then you could breathe again, and the hand slipped from inside your tight channel, the thumb was gone, your body slowly coming down from the most intense orgasm you might have ever experienced. Tears streamed down your face, silent sobs fell from your hurting throat, your legs twitching in the aftershocks of your high.

You were moved, not that you noticed much, turned onto your stomach, chest pressed into the bed, your hips pulled up. The girls changed places, the blue ribbon appeared next to your face, wet hands rubbing over your shoulders, kneading the tense muscles, the other girl rubbing the same soothing circles over your butt cheeks.

“Get the plug ready, bird,” the man said behind you, and you groaned quietly, cheek pressed into a soft pillow, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. You felt delicate fingers moving into the cleft between your cheeks, one fingertip teasing your puckered hole. Something cold and wet was squirted onto your skin, then gently massaged into you until your muscles relaxed enough to let a finger in, then two, maybe even three, you couldn't be sure.

There was a pressure against your tight hole when the fingers retreated, something solid and cold, and you grunted loudly when it was pushed in with one swift nudge, filling you out while that tight ring of muscles closed around its smaller neck. A croaked yelp escaped you when a hand came down hard on your soft flesh, spanking your cheeks once, twice, until your skin burned and you could only whimper helplessly.

The same hand, warm from the assault, curled around your bound arms, lifted you as if you were just a package one could carry around, and you were moved once more, ending up on your side. Delicate fingers held your shoulders and your hip, before a rougher hand grabbed your leg and pulled it up, opening you up for penetration. Your eyes were unfocused, but you noticed shapes around you, the girls consoling you, rubbing your breasts and your back, one teased the plug in your ass.

There was no attention to your pussy or your clit until you felt the spongy tip of the man's cock nudging between your puffy lips. You let out a gurgled wail when he pushed into you, stretching you even more than the hand had done before, and he pressed deeper without mercy, fast short snaps of his hips until he bottomed out, your leg pressed against his hard chest. He held onto it as he started rutting into you, and you whimpered with every deep thrust, your sore muscles protesting, your whole body fighting against the intrusion.

Soft lips brushed against your chest, hands twisting your torso back a little until you lay heavy on your restrained arms, before not one but two mouths closed around your breasts, one eager tongue on each stiff nipple, sucking hard on your sensitive flesh, and you moaned deeply. It was simply too much. With the man pounding into your abused hole, your muscles clenching lazily around him now, the plug in your butt nudging from the other side, adding more pressure, and the girls on your tits, you felt yourself slipping, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open, ecstasy etched onto your tired features.

You could have let go then, feeling content, but it was as if the people around you could see the way you gave in, as they changed their paces rapidly. The man's thrusts got rougher, quicker, deep stabs straight against your bruised cervix, while you could feel teeth teasing and nibbling and actually biting your skin, working bruises into it, marks that sent jolts of electricity through your system. You moaned louder, arching your back, hips stuttering, and before you knew it, you came hard around the man's cock, your juices spraying out of you without restraint as you cried out and spasmed, unable to ground yourself, held down and in place by the girls suckling on your tender breasts.

“Tsk,” made the man, his voice rough and hoarse from exertion. He kept pounding into you, even more brutal now, prolonging the feeling of pure bliss until it turned into pain again. “Did you just come without permission? Doll, that's not how this works.”

Through your haze you felt confusion. He never told you to come before, always let your body take over, how were you supposed to hold that in when he kept bullying all your sensitive spots? When the girls kept stimulating you with their eager mouths suctioned to your nipples like leeches? You grunted in dismay, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, your stomach tense as he pushed you closer to the edge all over again. There was no way you could stop the orgasm from spilling over you.

And you needed it. Among all the things he forced upon you, from the anal hook to the fucking machine, to this, you needed to feel good, otherwise you would break and never return, you just knew it. And you didn't want to break, become a soulless slave bending to her master's will, let him do whatever to you, no. And you fought, jerked your hips against his, met his motions, and he only rutted into you faster, harder, deeper, grunting and growling above you, his hands tight around your leg, leaving bruises.

But before you could reach the desired high, he suddenly pulled out, and you groaned in pain at the sudden loss. The girls drew back too, leaving your chest covered in hickeys and bite marks and saliva. You looked up at the man towering over you, who was panting slightly, shoulders tight, tall and intimidating, before he grabbed your hips and manhandled you onto your stomach again. You yelped, and even more so when he ripped the plug out of your puckered hole, the sudden stretch to it burning badly, sending a new batch of hot tears into your eyes.

You were prone on the bed, his big hand on your folded arms pressing you into the soft mattress. The girls were gone, the loss of their added stimulation ripping a hole into your stomach. A whine escaped you as he sat down on your thighs, holding you in place with his weight, before you felt his hands kneading your tender ass cheeks, groping and pulling, opening you up, until his hard, hot cock pressed against your sphincter, bullying it to give way. The friction was horrible, you knew he went in raw, there was no preparation, no lube except your own juices, the stretch of the plug long forgotten by your tense muscles.

A scream ripped from your throat when he rolled his hips into you in one swift thrust, forcing his way deeper into your ass until all of him was inside of you. All you could do was sob, unable to move, unable to find any other kind of relief, the orgasm that had been so close long deflated inside you, fizzled away and overridden by nothing but burning pain.

He shifted on top of you, putting more weight onto your small body, and you were glad about the soft bed, the bounce of the mattress, but it wasn't enough to alleviate the scorching sensation when he started moving within you. Somehow this position was worse than when he had taken your ass on the bench that hadn't been as forgiving, but the way he moved, with your legs closed and your muscles extra tight, it hurt so bad. He seemed to carve his way into your body, invading a passage that shouldn't be open to him, and yet he took it, pushed and pulled, hips slamming against your cushioned but bruised rear, in and out, always as deep as possible with his balls slapping against your quivering thighs.

But he wasn't rocking your body, instead he kept it still and in place, his hands on your hips, pressing down hard, not allowing you to move to get the slightest of friction to your clit. You were immobile on the bed as he pounded into your ass, chasing his own orgasm that seemed to be on the far horizon. It went on and on, in and out, deep and hard, stab after stab against tense muscles that clenched harder with every brutal plunge.

You were whimpering quietly, your voice too strained to produce any louder noises, while tears clouded your vision. Teetering on the edge, but not of pleasure, you succumbed to his assault, hoping to become numb to it soon, but no such luck. Your senses were kept alert, either by a slight change of angle, or a switch to a slower pace, or when he moved his hands along your body, from gripping your hips to curling his fingers around your shoulders, or grabbing your nape and pressing you into the pillow.

The bed bounced and creaked under the strain of his big body squishing yours, of his cock forcing its way into you over and over again, and you felt your mind swimming, a strange kind of vertigo crashing through your senses. You felt sick, nauseous, that constant plunge into your guts a horrible sensation, and when you thought you'd have to throw up as your stomach tensed, he was digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips and stilled deep inside you, before he grunted and groaned as he emptied himself into your abused depths.

You felt the hot ropes of cum painting your insides, filling you up, you could almost taste it, or maybe it was just bile and the memory of his spend in your throat, you couldn't be sure. Your head was throbbing and spinning, your eyelids heavy but somehow you weren't able to close them, stared ahead blankly, drool pooling beneath your cheek on the pillow. Your body was trembling, cold shivers crashing through you when he moved back, slipping out of you, and your hole gaped and clenched hopelessly, his warm seed seeping out in thick globs.

Exhaustion washed over you, like a dark sheet covering your soiled body, hiding you from the abusive world (and people) around you.

Chapter 2+3 🔻 Chapter 4 🔺 Chapter 5+6

End notes: I realize our guy sounds a bit cultish here ("welcome to the flock"), but I promise you this is not a cult, he's just a fucked-up man, a collector if you will. More "plot" is coming soon!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 02+03

After "agreeing" to an "offer" you couldn't refuse, you wake up in quite the predicament, bound and gagged and blindfolded, with a lot more surprises waiting for you.

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Predicament bondage! Gags/blindfolds/anal hook! Oral sex! Anal sex! Hurt/No comfort! Fucking machine! Double penetration! Forced orgasms! Squirting! Overstimulation! (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 4k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Have the short version of my lengthy notes from chapter 1: This is dark and rough and basically a dumping ground for the most depraved kinks I could think of. Mind the tags!

And speaking of tags, yes, this is again tagged for various fandoms, even though this is not about your favorite blorbo. This is an original, "make the male lead your own blorbo" kind of story. It's also more focused on the Reader character in these chapters (who, by the way, has female genitalia and hair long enough to braid and is referred to as Doll).

For more information, check the Author's Notes on chapter 1.

Also: these are two chapters put into one post because they were so short (I uploaded them individually to AO3 though). But they are no less intense. Be warned!

Chapter 1 🔻 Chapter 2+3 🔺 Chapter 4

You woke up with a deep gasp, your body resuming the frantic attempt to get air into your lungs. Your jaw was aching, and you realized your mouth was open, a steady stream of drool dripping down your lips and your chin, gathering in a puddle beneath your head. There was something holding your lips apart, something rigid, hard, tasting of cold metal and earthy leather. Your tongue could move freely, tracing the contraption with a morbid fascination. You tried to swallow all the spit pooling in your mouth, but it hurt until you figured out to press your tongue against your gums.

Panic flooded you nonetheless as more of your body resumed its functions. You realized you were lying on your stomach, bent slightly, with your ass raised, and your head turned to the side, resting on something soft but cold, more leather, you assumed. It was dark, and it wasn't that there wasn't any light, it was something covering your eyes. A blindfold, and you felt it bound together behind your head, along with that thing that held your mouth open. Your hair seemed to be pulled back into a braid, the fray ends tickled between your shoulder blades. Of course you were still naked.

You tried moving your arms, but found yourself unable to. They were hanging off the edge of whatever furniture you were lying on, straight down, and when you moved your fingers, they brushed against something solid, and it felt as if you were held down by thick leather straps, making it impossible to move. The same was happening to your legs. Additionally, they were spread far apart, and you could feel the cool air of the room on your warm sex, exposed and vulnerable as it was.

Another flood of ice cold panic crashed through you, and you squirmed, urged out words that couldn't form with how your mouth was held open, thrashing your head, and it was then that you felt the painful sting. Freezing mid-motion, you let out a whimper when you realized there was something attached to your hair, to the end of your braid, and whenever you moved your head, that something pulled taut and made something else press hard against your insides, forcing your tight muscles apart.

You saw the hook-like metal thing before your eyes, lying on the soft velvet, with its ball-shaped bumps, and now you could feel it inside your ass, deep inside you, cold and heavy and hard, held in place by a rope attached to your braid. A fucking anal hook. You groaned, or tried to, stiffening to not cause yourself any more discomfort. It felt weird, especially since you'd never had anything up your butt before. It was wrong, and the way it was connected to your head, moving whenever you moved, made you feel sick to your already cramping stomach.

But it gave you enough leeway to rest your cheek on the soft leather, if you bent your neck just right. Breathing harder, trying to ignore the drool gathering on your tongue and pooling beneath you, you forced yourself to think through the panic clouding your mind. You were trapped, strapped to a table or bench or whatever sick kind of contraption. You were naked, spread wide open, impaled by a metal hook, gagged and blindfolded, and despite trying to see a silver lining or any possibility of escape, you couldn't find it. There was no way you could escape from this.

And now you were crying on top of anything else, big fat tears soaking into your blindfold until they were rolling down your face, dripping into your open mouth, burning on your hot skin, your throat closed up, your nose felt stuffed, it was harder and harder to breathe. This was hopeless! What did you do to deserve this? Hiccups shook your bound body, letting the hook dance in your ass, and you whined and wailed, spiraling deeper and deeper into the bottomless pit that your life had turned into.

In the midst of your despair, you suddenly heard footsteps, and the noise made you pause mid-sob, your heart racing and echoing loud in your ears. Fingertips traced along your hips, making you shiver, before you felt them lifting your head up by pulling on your braid. Breathing harder, face soaked in tears and sweat, snot and drool, your neck was angled up slightly, a strange pressure on your scalp as the rope connecting your hair to the hook in your ass was pulled tighter, and when the hands retreated, you found yourself stuck in that position, unable to move your head, and as you tried nonetheless, the thing in your ass moved, hard and unrelenting, pulling on your tense muscles.

You whined softly, trying to swallow the saliva that now pooled on your tongue. The hands were back on your shoulders, circling your face, holding your chin, wiping at the wet mess on your skin. A finger pushed into your mouth, right onto your tongue, and you flinched away, causing you to pull on the hook, coaxing another whimper out of your throat. One finger became two, and both digits moved in and out of your open mouth, slipping deeper, teasing at the back of your throat. And you couldn't move away without hurting yourself, so you held your breath, squeezing your eyes shut under the blindfold, and endured.

Or tried to, before the fingers made you gag violently as they pressed deeper into your throat. Your whole body jerked against your restraints, the hook in your ass pressing against your tight muscles, pulling at your hole, and you felt it clenching around the metal item, trying to get to terms with it. The fingers continued to probe at your throat, and you wanted to close your mouth, bite down on them, but the gag holding your jaw open kept you from doing anything. You were utterly helpless.

New tears burned under your eyelids, muffled gurgling sounds erupting from deep within you. Then the fingers were gone again, and you wanted to take a much needed breath, only to find yourself stuffed with something else. Bigger than fingers, wider and hotter, longer too as it pushed straight into your mouth, right against the back of your throat, something pulsing against your tongue, soft skin with a hardened core, and as hard as it was, it kept pushing, nudging, prodding, until you had to gag again, spit filling your mouth, when the spongy tip forced deeper into your throat.

Your head was spinning, empty and full at the same time, there was no coherent thought, just an overall panic, a need to breathe, and you got only granted a few seconds before it all happened again. In and out it went, and you knew by now it must have been a cock even though you can barely remember the last time you had one in your mouth (due to you only letting go when drunk), especially not one this big, the way it felt on your tongue, warm and throbbing, hard and also slightly soft, filling your mouth, bending, molding into the shape of your throat as it fucked your face over and over again, always pushing deep, making you gag with every attempt, until you felt too drowsy to fight the intrusion any longer.

There was a hand under your chin now, holding your head up as it got too heavy and you threatened to rip your hair out with how it pulled at the hook in your ass, but the motion continued, in and out, using your mouth like a hole whose only purpose was to be used like that. It wasn't a mouth, just a hole, with a tightly contracting throat squeezing the thing slipping into it time and time again, bulging your neck, finding space where there shouldn't be any. You felt sick, but too tired to retch any more, drool and something warm and sticky dripping from your chin, obscene gurgling and squelching sounds filling your ears.

The movements became quicker then, the hand slipped lower to grab at your throat, tightening your airways even more whenever the cock slipped particularly deep. Rough hairs tickled your nose and something firm and equally squishy pressed against your chin. Fingers squeezed your neck, squeezed around the cock in your throat, held tightly, and you couldn't do anything, couldn't fight the black spots dancing in front of your already obstructed vision, couldn't fight the urge to breathe, the vertigo, the panic, the fear.

Before you could fall over the edge into blissful nothingness, or so you hoped, you were released, and something hot and sticky hit your face, landed deep in your mouth, salty to the taste, piling up more and more, and you were too delirious to swallow, you just wanted to let it drip – if it wasn't for the hand pressed to your open mouth.

“Swallow,” came the low command, hoarse and demanding, and you let out a strangled whimper before you pressed your laden tongue to your gums and swallowed, feeling it slide down your hurting throat, the motion only adding to the overall pain you felt.

Your head was still held up by the rope connecting it to the hook, and when the hands fell away, you whined, wanting nothing more than to lie down fully and preferably just die, but then you felt the pressure easing on your braid, and without warning your head smacked down on the leather surface you were bound to, a groan escaped you, stars dancing behind your eyelids.

It numbed the pain that was now centering on your ass as the same hands that almost choked you were now playing with the metal hook, pushing it in and out, teasing your tense muscles, and it got worse when they pulled it out, slowly, so excruciatingly slow you could feel every single bump passing by your tight rim, until it was gone, leaving you aching and gaping.

For a few minutes nothing happened. You had time to relax, breathe deeply, try to ignore the soreness in your throat, and as you fought the vertigo overtaking you, you felt something nudging against your sphincter. A muffled cry escaped you, and you squirmed, pushing against your restraints as something warm and wet pushed into you. Slow little nudges, forcing your muscles away, and when it slipped in, you wailed soundlessly.

It was so much bigger than the hook, not as hard and rigid, but filling you out even more as it prodded deeper and deeper, with slow snaps of hips pressing against your rear. A sudden slap on one of your ass cheeks made you jump, a new kind of pain crashing through you, then it happened again, on the same spot, and you howled breathlessly, and the cock pressed deeper while your muscles protested, but to no avail. You were full of it now as it bottomed out, resting deep within you, before two strong hands gripped your hips, and the pressure loosened slightly when he drew back – only to slam into you again with even more force.

It was a sickening rhythm of drag, slam, whine, as he pulled out slowly, ramming back in, causing you to wail every time he seemed to rearrange your guts. Lewd slurping noises echoed in your ears as your ass grew more and more accustomed to the strange intruder, the friction was still bad, a horrible burning sensation as the cock dragged along your tense muscles, but the motion became easier to handle the faster it got.

You felt every hard thrust, and with your body strapped to whatever surface you were bound to, held in place by tight leather straps cutting into your skin, you couldn't move away, you could just take it. And take it again and again and again... until you thought you couldn't take any more, but he still gave you more, a fast rutting, a heavy pounding, slaps and stabs, bullying your muscles, pushing deep, stretching your limits, occupying every single inch of available space and beyond.

It was almost a relief when he finally stilled inside you and came, shooting thick ropes of cum into your abused depths, a strange warmth that eased the aching of your insides at least a little bit. But when he pulled out, the resulting emptiness was even worse. Cold air hit exposed flesh, making you shiver, your hole clenching in vain as his seed started dripping down your skin. You felt it and you still tasted it on your tongue, it was all around you, warm and sticky, degrading and humiliating, and you succumbed to the cold feeling of disgust, of fear and pain, of helplessness, of defeat.

Sobbing quietly, you were left alone, in the darkness, in the void of your own misery.

[READ ON AO3]

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you woke up, you were in a new position, lying on your back, legs raised and spread far apart, held in place by a new set of thick leather bands. And this time, you could see (and you almost wished you didn't), your frantic eyes searched the dark room you were in, you could make out shapes of benches and chairs, but nothing more. The light came from somewhere behind you, but you couldn't stretch your neck to be able to see it. You could barely lift your head to begin with.

There was another kind of gag in your mouth, a ball this time, something to bite down on if need be, and need was certainly there. Your arms were bound together somewhere above your head, wrists tied with thick ropes, your fingers tingling from how tight the ropes dug into your skin, slowly cutting off your circulation. Something was holding your arms up, like a metal hook that wasn't in your ass this time. There was something else in there now, you could feel it before you could see it, along with something similar poking into your cunt: two large dildos attached to some sort of machine prodded at your holes, just resting there, the tips barely penetrating you, but you were already fearing for the worst, your heart beat accelerating as you stared down between your spread legs.

They looked big and girthy, cock-like in a horrifying way, and you could already imagine the stretch and how deep they would plunge. Shuddering badly, your breaths turning into frantic little puffs that barely made it out of your nose, you watched your chest rising and falling faster, your heart thundering beyond, panic settling back into your restrained limbs.

The light got more for a moment before a large shadow fell over you. You stiffened, eyes widening, breath hitching. The man walked by, still in the fancy suit you'd first seen him in, completely ignoring you, then stepped to the machine between your legs. He didn't even look at you when he pressed a button and a whirring sound echoed through the room, followed by the rhythmic noise of the dildos pressing back and forth, and you gasped into your gag, straining and struggling, fruitlessly trying to get your hips away as the phallic items alternated between poking into your ass and poking into your pussy. In and out, a sickeningly slow rhythm, stretching you relentlessly.

The man pressed a few more buttons and the motions grew quicker, the whirring sounds louder, and the in and out got all the worse. They plunged deeper, their force relentless, poking at your soft flesh, at your tense muscles, forcing their way into you, while you wailed soundlessly, your muffled noises barely audible over the sounds of the machine. The constant in and out, drag, push, drag push, dragpush, one going into your cunt and the other moving out of your ass, out of your cunt and into your ass, back and forth, over and over again, in speeds that weren't normal, had your mind spinning and caused your stomach to tense up something awful.

A strange warmth built up inside you, filling you, expanding, urging to be released, and you groaned, squirming as best as you could with how you were bound to the bench, but you couldn't even lift your hips properly with that leather strap pushing down on your abdomen, couldn't escape even if you wanted to. And eventually, you didn't even want to. You wanted more. For them to move faster, hit different spots, drive you over the edge, but they kept their lazy rhythm, in, out, and there was no other stimulation.

Your eyes were unfocused but you still tried to throw a pleading look towards the man who stood beside you, watching you with an impassive gaze. A garbled noise escaped you that should have been a please, but of course nothing came past the gag in your mouth. Besides more drool. He moved then, and you wished he didn't after all. The dildos moved faster, no longer alternating, but pushing in at the same time, in, in, out, out, so fast the whirring noises were deafening.

You screamed through your gag, eyes rolling back, as they plunged deep and pulled and stretched your muscles, invading further than before, further than they should reach. You felt awfully full, and hot, your whole body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, as your heart beat faster and your breaths came through your nose in frantic desperation. It was all too much, and not enough at the same time. The machine pounded into you, unrelenting, unaware of your discomfort, programmed to push and pull.

Hot tears mixed with sweat and saliva as you cried helplessly, your stomach tensing even more, the heat burning within you almost unbearable. And then there was a click, and it got even worse. They moved faster, really pistoning in and out at an inhuman speed, attacking your holes with full force. Muffled screams and whines and whimpers echoed through the room, barely audible over the machine's loud whirring.

They stabbed you, and they stabbed you deep, the one in your cunt prodding at your cervix, and each time it did, which was every second or quicker it seemed, you shuddered and cried out, and that strange pain slowly turned into something else. The warmth built up, that coil in your stomach wrought so tight it was almost breaking, and then... it broke, and everything else broke loose too, and you came hard.

Your body spasmed and convulsed in its restraints, something warm and wet sprayed past the intruders, splattering to the floor, and you kept trembling, head thrashed back, mind empty and full of cotton at the same time, a million little lights dancing behind your eyelids. The machine kept going, the dildos held their insanely fast pace, loud squelching sounds mixing with the mechanical whirring, and you felt that tension building up again... and again... and you came once more, overwhelmed and unable to stop it.

You stopped counting after the fifth time it forced you to orgasm, and you were exhausted, barely able to breathe, barely able to function. You were just a body strapped to a bench with your legs held up in strange stirrups, your arms tied above your head, and a fucking machine assaulting your holes without mercy. It hurt so bad, you were sore and tired, but the spasms kept coming, and you kept coming, and you were so close to just give in, so close to the edge of the void that promised to swallow you whole.

But then it all stopped, and an eerie silence fell over you. It was just your frantic breaths, the drumming of your heart in your ears, the squeaking of the bench whenever you jerked involuntarily against your bounds. And the dildos rested inside you, all the way in, filling you, keeping you plugged up, holding you in place. You couldn't move, couldn't think. It doesn't matter. It's over. And you calmed down, head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering shut.

A hand moved along your neck, fingers pressing against your pulse point, then came a little grunt, and a palm slapping hard against your cheek causing you to whine out loud, your eyes flying open. The man stood over you, his gaze dark.

“You are not done yet,” he told you ominously, and you frowned, trying to plead with him, but he retreated and walked back to the machine.

You couldn't fully see what he was doing, but he somehow added something to it, another arm with some sort of attachment, and you gasped into your gag when you felt it. A constant buzzing, pressed straight to your swollen clit. He clicked some more buttons and the vibrations grew in intensity, making you thrash your head and pull on the bounds of your arms, which in turn seemed to pull you further up the bench. But the strap around your stomach kept your body from moving, so you just stretched your torso, and your joints started hurting. It felt as if your shoulders would be ripped right out of their sockets, and you whined, stopped moving, tried to anyway.

“Stay still,” his low voice came to you, barely audible over the humming of the vibrator and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sniffled, new tears spilling from your lashes, your nose clogging up badly. You could barely breathe, your lips fluttering around the ball in your mouth, jaw aching under the strain to open further, but the item between your teeth was too big to allow for air to rush past it. Your eyes widened in panic as you realized that.

He sighed, shaking his head, then fumbled with the leather strap holding the gag in place. To your growing surprise, he actually removed it, though he kept his hand like a vice on your jaw, staring down at you. You blinked, a gurgled wail escaping you. He reached for something under the bench, and a pathetic whimper slipped from your swollen lips. It was the ring gag again.

He forced the metal ring between your teeth and attached it to your head, and even though you could breathe through your mouth now, it didn't stop the drool from dripping down your chin. Turning your head to the side, he patted your cheek before stepping back. You inhaled sharply, rapid breaths to fill your aching lungs, snot and saliva mixing with your tears and sweat. You felt miserable, but never bad enough to be able to ignore the buzzing against your clit. It made your vision blur, your stomach tense up all over again, and it got even worse when he turned the machine back on.

Now it was moving in its lazy rhythm, alternating again, never leaving you empty as the dildos pushed first into your cunt and then into your ass, cunt, ass, in, out, slow and steady, with their tips always holding you open.It would have been lulling if the stimulation of your sensitive nub wouldn't still be on the forefront of your mind. It kept you alert, balancing on the edge, always too much, but also never enough. You squirmed, tried to get more out of it, but it only earned you another slap to the cheek, which was burning, pulsing heavily against the leather strap of the gag.

You sniffled, squeezing your eyes shut against the pain that slowly bled into the overwhelming pleasure building up inside you. A click and the machine moved faster while the vibrator toned down, and you whined pathetically. So close. Another kind of vibration buzzed in the air, and you saw him pulling his phone out of his suit jacket. Your mind was too clouded to understand anything, but when he walked closer to you, his hand warm and big on your jaw, you blinked into attention.

“I gotta go for a bit, doll,” he told you, and your eyes widened as you struggled frantically in your restraints. “Don't worry, I'll leave the machines on. Just for you. See you soon.”

And then he just left, and you were alone with the two large dildos fucking your holes and the vibrator thrumming against your clit, hopeless and helpless, forced to endure. Overwhelmed and exhausted, covered in sweat and tears, snot and drool, and your own juices dripping down your ass. You tried to relax into the motions, but you never could, you remained on edge, so close, but never enough.

This time, the pleasure built up slowly, just a warmth within you, with your muscles contracting lazily, your stomach tensing, thrust after thrust, buzz after buzz, and it still felt like being thrown before a bus when you tipped over the edge. Your cries were muffled, tears spilling from your eyes as you squeezed them shut, that wave of bliss pulling and pulling you up up up, the constant movement of the toys pulling you down down down, and you were tossed around like a leaf in the storm, suffocating, drowning, pulled under.

There was no end or beginning anymore, it was all the same, too much for your spasming body, your twitching limbs, your curling toes, stomach fluttering, cunt clenching, ass tightening, while the dildos pushed in and out, in and out, over and over again, keeping you afloat, fueled by the humming of the vibrator, your clit throbbing, swollen and raw, too sensitive to handle anything anymore.

Eventually, fortunately, the room fell into darkness, but the whirring of the machine followed you into the depth.

Chapter 1 🔻 Chapter 2+3 🔺 Chapter 4

End notes: Aaaand she fainted again, the poor thing. Have I mentioned this story is dark and depraved and has no comfort? Sorry, I did warn you. And it'll only get worse from here...

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 01

Accidents happen. Mistakes were made, and while you hoped the handsome stranger would help you through your dilemma, you ended up in his service, paying off a debt that would have changed your life for the worse if you wouldn't have "accepted" his "offer". Unfortunately, your life is still about to change, if you want to or not, and it's not getting any better...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Manipulation! Free use! Hurt/No comfort! (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 3.1k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Before I further warn you about the following depravities, let me address the elephant in the room: Yes, this is tagged with various fandom tags, no, this is not about your favorite blorbo, BUT I wrote a very ambiguous male character here, no descriptions, no name, so I invite you to fill in the blanks and MAKE him your favorite blorbo, call him Joel, call him Tony, call him Dean, whatever you want, imagine him as your favorite character, he can be ANYONE who's tall, (subjectively) handsome, rich, slightly intimidating, morally gray, and who would consider himself a Master.

Our Reader character is very ambiguous too, all I "blessed" her with, is hair long enough to braid and female genitalia. As I usually do, I tend to give my vague female characters pet names, and hers is Doll.

Now back to the warnings. I hope you considered the warnings I already gave above, so just know that this story is very dark, there's no comfort, it's rough, it's depraved, it's a collection of the darkest kinks I could think of (even those I told myself to never explore). Sometimes you just need to write (and read?) something that makes you highly uncomfortable, and maybe, through that discomfort you'll discover something about yourself. There is pleasure through pain after all, right?

So if you want to follow me on this wild, wild ride and are not afraid to face some dark themes, I welcome you and I thank you for reading these long notes before you dove into the thick of it. Please enjoy my darkest story yet!

And remember: This is fiction!!!

🔻 Chapter 1 🔺 Chapter 2+3

Not that it mattered in the moment, but if you could have formed a coherent thought, you'd wonder how you'd ended up like this: strapped to something one can only call a medieval torture device, wearing a blindfold and a ring gag, completely helpless, while getting a very unrelenting ass pounding.

It certainly wasn't something you'd planned.

The memory was hazy, but it had something to do with driving your rusty old hunk of metal of a car into the rear end of a shiny new, very expensive looking sports car. You'd been quite tipsy and shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel in the first place, but it happened, and while nobody got hurt (yet), you had been devastated.

Your options were slim. You knew your insurance couldn't do jack, you'd have to pay for the repairs yourself (because it was so obviously your fault), and on top of that you'd been (very) drunk, and if the police got involved, you'd lose your driver's license, which would ruin you further. No means to get to your job, you'd lose that too. And where were you supposed to get the money from then? Definitely not out of your starving bank account.

It was a spiral of doom, and it all led you to fall onto your knees, overdramatic as you were in your headless, drunken state, and you were begging. The man who had exited the sports car watched you curiously. He wasn't even angry, maybe mildly inconvenienced, but when you started pleading, his demeanor changed. There was a dark smirk on his handsome face.

Because, of course, you had to rear-end the car of the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. On top of the dizzying sensation of numerous cocktails (and countless shots and in-between beers) swimming through your system and the overwhelming guilt of causing an accident, you felt a strange and very inopportune warmth between your thighs.

He was hot, and you were hot for him, and it only made it worse to be on your knees in front of him, telling him I'll do anything, please, no police, it'll be my ruin, I can't afford the repairs but I wanna do something to help, make this better, please...

He'd taken a step closer, his hand moving towards your tear soaked face. You must have looked terrible, blotchy reddened skin, make-up smeared, mascara running down your cheeks in ugly rivulets, but he still cupped your burning face, thumb tracing the shape of your trembling bottom lip.

“You'd do anything, doll?” he asked, and you didn't even mind the pet name you would normally cringe about (or the inappropriate touch or the strange undertone), his voice was just so low, soft and deep, a gentle rumble in the air, very distracting.

You nodded into his hand, whimpering a breathless “Yes, sir”.

A smile made his lips twitch. “You know,” he said, caressing your face, fingertips brushing your unruly hair behind your ear. “It so happens that I need a new servant,” he continued, and you stared at him, mesmerized and confused. “You could pay off your debt while working for me.”

His suggestion made you blink, your mind too clouded to fully comprehend it, but you nodded again, a shaky smile playing around your lips. “Yes. Yes, I could. I would, I mean, I will! I'll do anything,” you repeated, leaning your head into his palm.

“Get up,” he ordered, and you stood immediately, albeit on trembling legs, having to look up at the tall man who still held your face. His other hand slipped into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve his phone.

You were staring at him, dumbstruck, desperate, drunk, watching him dial some number, then giving a bunch of orders. You barely registered any of it, too intoxicated (infatuated?) and shocked, too busy thinking about your spiraling life, you just heard something about a tow truck and some garage, and when he was finished, he winked at you, slowly guiding you to the passenger side of his car, his hand warm on your lower back.

While your car seemed damaged beyond repair with how the hood had been crushed into an accordion shape, there was a deep scratch in the probably very expensive matte black paint of his bumper, a few dents, a broken tail light, but nothing that kept his car from driving.

Not that you noticed too much of it as he ushered you onto the soft leather seat. He even leaned over you and buckled you in, and you were mind-blown, mind basically shattered at this point, too enamored to think any further than the tip of your nose, too distracted to realize you'd left your purse in the glove compartment of your car.

Not that it would matter.

The man slipped behind the wheel, his eyes holding you hostage while you both waited for the tow truck. There might have been small talk, but you couldn't remember, the world was muffled at that point, your head spinning, your tongue too heavy to move. Once those flashing lights that weren't from any police car flickered across the dark parking lot, the man drove off with a roar of the engine, quickly speeding away from the scene of your demise.

Demise? Again, you couldn't make that connection, not in that moment, all you felt was a strange relief. He took care of the car, he'd take care of you too, right? You'd work for him, pay off your debt, keep living your boring little life once it was all done.

It was all a blur when the car arrived at one of those fancy metal gates, and the house that loomed behind them was too massive to comprehend. You were floating, still too drunk to properly function or think a single rational thought. Doesn't matter. It'll be alright.

You remember stepping into a large foyer, eyes too unfocused to take in all the splendor around you. He grabbed your wrist then and pulled you after him into an office where you fell into a soft chair. The rustling of paper made you curious, but when you looked down at the stack he'd put down in front of you, you frowned.

“Just to make this legal,” he said in that honey sweet baritone voice of his that melted your panties right off. “You'll sign this and you'll become a part of this household, as you'll serve me in whatever way I see fit. We'll find a place for you. You'll get your own room, you'll always be fed, and I'm sure you can handle whatever needs to be done, right? Consider your debt paid off, doll.”

As confused as you were, you were also too grateful for this turn of events. Stumbling out of a bar after a night of too much alcohol to try to forget your shitty little life, drunk driving into this man's car to end up working for him, living in his special mansion? Why not? Sounds reasonable. Sounds better than having to return to your small apartment that still reeked of the previous tenant's love for garlic.

It didn't even matter that he never told you who he was, that you didn't exchange any names to begin with. Who is he? Doesn't matter. He seemed wealthy, influential, generous in his offer to let you do this instead of ruining your life by insisting to do it the official way. He was offering you redemption, and you'd be very stupid to deny it. It'll be alright. No need to read the long text in front of you either, not that you could focus on a single word anyway. It'll be fine. You'll be a maid, probably, you can do that. Dust and clean or whatever, easy.

And so you grabbed the pen he was holding out to you and left the strange squiggle of your signature on the lines he marked for you, not even wondering why he'd have this contract ready to sign so quickly. Does this happen often? Doesn't matter.

Your head was spinning, and the way he smiled at you didn't make it better. You found yourself smiling back, somewhat dumbly, too buzzed to react any differently. You felt sleepy too, a strange mix of nerves and utter exhaustion, and you barely noticed when he stood next to you all of a sudden, gently grabbing your elbow to pull you to your feet.

Then you were walking with him, to an elevator, and it was going down, and your stomach jumped to the ceiling, nausea grabbing you tightly. The cubicle stopped with a sudden jerk, the doors slid open with a ding, and he kept dragging you along, through a dimly lit corridor lined with doors. You felt lightheaded now, on the verge of throwing up all the sugary drinks you'd consumed earlier, but he didn't stop, didn't give your body a second to rest before you reached the end of the hallway.

He opened the nearest door with something like a key card and gently pushed you into the room beyond. You stumbled, turned to look at him, but he was already closing the door behind you, shutting you in. You blinked, confusion mixing with the vertigo gripping your body, and the small noise of a lock clicking into place got lost when you started retching.

You somehow made it into the small room to your left that held a toilet and a sink, and found yourself hugging the bowl as you emptied your stomach into it. You were still dizzy when your body decided it was enough, and after a long moment of just sitting on the tiled floor, trying to catch your breath, you managed to stand up and lean over the sink. No mirror. Strange.

The light coming from a single bulb dangling from the ceiling hurt your eyes, so you didn't pay too much attention to the unusually spartan light fixture. You washed your hands, then your face, then washed your mouth out. There was a small shelf to the side, holding a prepackaged toothbrush and some tooth paste, and you ripped it open with shaking hands and brushed the vile taste off your tongue.

Feeling only slightly better, you went back into the room, finding nothing but a bed. Not even a bedside table. Just a bed, and it wasn't as comfortable or big looking as you would have expected in a mansion this large and luxurious. It still served a purpose, and you fell onto it and curled up, too exhausted to think any more about what happened. Or what might await you.

Doesn't matter.

With your head spinning and the room spinning along, you fell asleep to dreams of more spinning, of cars and handsome men, flashing lights, hands on your face, hands on your hips, hands pulling off your clothes, fingers pinching your nipples, fingers dipping between your shamefully wet folds, of moans and grunts echoing through a small room, and it was still spinning, and the bed was shaking and squeaking, and you were moved and handled, and when you woke up even more exhausted, you found yourself lying on your stomach, cheek resting on a wet spot where your drool had gathered on the pillow.

You rolled onto your side, feeling a strange soreness deep within you. There was something sticky between your thighs, and you blamed it all on drinking too much, having strange wet dreams, pushing yourself too far. Stumbling off the bed, you groaned, pressing a hand to your stomach as a deep-rooted pain poked at your insides. You didn't even notice that you were stark naked at first. Slowly, you made your way into the bathroom, sat on the toilet for what felt like forever, a strange burning sensation assaulting your senses.

Your head was heavy, hurting, full of cotton that pressed hard against your skull, threatening to break through. Not sure cotton can do that. You brushed your teeth again, blinking at the empty spot where you'd expect a mirror on the wall. It took you a very long time to finally put all the pieces together, or at least some of them.

Your clothes were gone. You were naked, aching, had to clean off a strange stickiness from between your legs, your insides hurt in a way you never experienced before, and sitting was very uncomfortable somehow too. Last night was a blur, but you remembered the accident, the man, signing a contract, paying off your debt by... by doing what? Being a servant? That's what he'd said, right? What kind of servant? you wondered as you sat on the edge of the bed, breathing harder as you tried to make sense of it all.

The room alone was strange. The only light came from the (doorless) bathroom, from that grimly looking light bulb swinging softly from the ceiling. There were no windows, just the bed and the door, a sturdy looking door without a knob or handle, just a key pad to the side. What is this place? A cell of some sort? Why were you here? Why were you naked? Where did your clothes go? Who had taken them? Who had been here? What had happened to you?

Caught in your own mind, you grabbed the sheets and draped them around your bare body. You weren't cold, but it felt better to cover up like this. If you wouldn't have to fight the aftermath of a night full of flowery drinks and gut-punching shots, you would certainly panic, start pacing, try to find a way out. But you were hurting, from the top of your head down into your toes, all nerve endings on edge, and the pain was that all-consuming thing around you, allowing not a single rational thought, just an overall feeling of uneasiness.

You didn't know how long you just sat there, staring holes into the bland wall, when the door suddenly opened with a click and a hiss. It swung open, and the man from last night entered, greeting you with a smile. You blinked at him, lips trembling, mind reeling.

“Good morning,” he said as he walked in and closed the door behind him. It clicked shut automatically. He was carrying a box in his hands. You remained on the edge of the bed, not daring to move as you watched him put it down next to you, nodding towards it. “I brought you something to wear,” he added nonchalantly.

Still confused but also intrigued, you slid part of the blanket off your shoulder and moved your hand to open the box, hoping for new clothes, maybe a maid's uniform, something that would make sense, but what you saw lying on the soft red velvet lining the insides of the container made your stomach turn violently. You recognized three coils of black rope, but the other item made no sense to you.

It was a metal hook, for lack of a better term, with a loop at one end that was probably for the rope to pass through, but the other side was... it was rounded, elongated, several ball shaped protrusions in a hard line, the metal formed in some sort of arch, giving it the hook-shape.

You swallowed hard, looking up at the man who watched you with dark eyes and an impassive expression, no longer smiling. Looking away more than intimidated, you stared back into the box and noticed a few other things. A thick leather band, like a collar, with a hoop at the back and three little belts in the front, the width of it making you stiffen, your throat already closing up just thinking of having something that big around it. You'd assume that was what it was for anyway.

It was strange how calm you were, how unusually distant. You had so many questions, but you couldn't find the strength to ask them. His presence felt ominous, like you couldn't breathe, oppressive, dominating. You felt small, even smaller than you were, vulnerable without your clothes, trapped in this weird room. And somehow it also made sense. You remembered the things he told you, and all of them seemed true. Having a room, doing what needs to be done, serving him. There were no details, but your mind was reeling with filling the voids.

Servant. Not a maid, but a slave.

Why was this revelation so eerily comforting? It shouldn't be. You should be freaking out, he took you away, forced you to sign a contract (patiently holding the pen, waiting for you, while you made the biggest mistake of your life), expecting you to come to terms with your new role right on the spot – and frankly, you felt yourself accepting it.

You didn't have a choice, did you? You were young and naive, yes, but you knew that contracts held value, and you signed one, you remembered it, not clearly, but it was there, and you did it because you needed to repay your debt, pay for the repair of his car that you were at fault of damaging. It was either this (whatever this was) or dealing with insurance and police and losing your car and your driver's license and your job and all the other things you'd accumulated over the years of independence. It wasn't much, but you didn't want to lose any of it.

And you wouldn't have to work here forever, right? A car repair, a new paint job, wouldn't be costing that much, would it? He'd have to let you go eventually. But you didn't read the contract... Something cold crashed down your spine, making you gasp, finally opening the door to more hysterical breaths, your lungs aching under the need to get enough oxygen to make you fully understand what was going on.

As soon as you started hyperventilating, you found yourself pressed to the bed, a strong hand closing around your throat, further limiting your airways. Your eyes widened as he loomed over you, staring down darkly. “Please,” you croaked out, your hands frantically grasping for his wrist, your body finally remembering it could move.

He shook his head. “You signed a contract. You gave your life to me,” he said quietly, his low voice menacing and dark now. “You want to pay off your debt, don't you, doll?”

You kicked beneath him as he climbed over you, one knee pressed between your legs, hand tightening around your neck. Gasping, thighs trembling as he rubbed the soft fabric of his pants against your aching sex, you opened your mouth, tried to tell him no, not like this, it was a mistake, please, but he only squeezed a little more, fingers pressing into the sides of your throat, black spots dancing in front of your eyes.

The room was spinning again, you felt so heavy, so exhausted, your fingernails scratched over his skin before your hands fell away limply, and then, darkness surrounded you, switching off the screeching voices of panic in your head instantly.

🔻 Chapter 1 🔺 Chapter 2+3

End notes: This was just the introduction, from now on, anything goes, and it goes hard. Stay tuned!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[animasola86]

missing you queenie are you okay 😭

Thank you for your concern! T_T

I am okay, please do not worry, I'm just (still) taking a social break, if you will? I'll be more active again very soon, I promise! <3

(Read below for a proper update that got a little out of hand :3)

I have one story (aka about 13 chapters) more or less ready to publish (something rather dark, see more info below), while I'm also working on another story that's like the exact opposite theme-wise on the side. Let's just say, writing has been going very well, but (unfortunately?) I had to let a few new ideas out of my brain first before I can focus back on existing stories.

That said, I wanna use this ask to answer a few others too.

(I'm really sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner or answered you individually, just know that even if I don't always reply in time or at all, I always read what you guys send me, and I'm really grateful you're spending your time writing me, so thank you for that, and please don't be discouraged if I don't get back to you! I see you, always! <3)

Innocence Lost is not abandoned, but on hiatus. Someday, I will get back to Ben and Nebbia. Someday. I don't know when (probably when inspiration strikes). So, please stay patient!

Dear @bnnyvrqnor - I was a little taken aback, actually XD Maybe mostly because I'm always surprised when people come forward praising Innocence Lost and wanting more of Ben and Nebbia. Thank you for your interest, it really means a lot! Like I said above, I will get back to them, they still live very lively in my mind, wanting their story to continue too. So hang in there, they'll get their happy ending (or at least a bit more screen time!), soon/eventually. :)

Lost & Found is taking a break, but it will return soon(ish). I have many plans for Mommy, Daddy and Pumpkin, and I will get to them, eventually.

Dear ✨ anon, I've read your ideas and I thank you for sharing them! They will definitely go on my list of possible things the three of them can experience together, the party one and the "pumpkin loves autumn" one. Lots to do with them, and hopefully, my brain lets me write them all down soon! :3

Infatuated will return too, eventually (take a shot every time I say that >_>). Part 2 of Season 3 is in the works, but as I'd like to finish writing the whole thing first, it might take a while for me to upload new chapters. There could be a little intermission chapter, though. Someday. Stay tuned.

Abandoned and Forgetful are both technically finished, but also on hold, the latter I have to say I do lack ideas and motivation to continue, I'm sorry.

The same goes for the promised continuation of my werewolf smut series. But never say never, I could wake up one day and suddenly have the energy to write more for those stories, who knows.

@ ✨ anon again: Thank you for the Interest in Forgetful and the idea about Mistress' life. I have to be honest, I poured all my energy into a different Mistress, into Mommy from Lost & Found, so I feel like all the former Mistresses will inevitably end up similar to her, just like they all came from the same Mistress who I introduced in Infatuated. So, like I said, unless motivation strikes, I don't think I'll venture back into Forgetful's storyline/characters, sorry.

Future projects: (I should have known that you're going to pick up on this, my dear 🥒 :D nothing gets past you! <3) So the story mentioned above (and teased with my latest inspiration pic over on @animasolaoriginal) will be called FORCED!

It'll focus on a Master/pet (slave/servant) dynamic and unlike my other stories, there will be no comfort, no aftercare, just rough sex and the darkest kinks I could think of. I just needed to write something truly dark after sending my other characters into their fluff era, I guess. So that story might not be for everyone, but maybe you will still give it a try once it's out (which could happen this coming Saturday (Friday on AO3)? Maybe?).

(Also thank you for your concern, pickles! <3 Please don't worry about sending too many asks, I always love reading your thoughts and comments and seeing your name pop up! Never stop/change, okay? <3)

I hope this cleared things up a bit. Thank you for reading, thank you for being here (I recently hit a little follower milestone, and while I know most of you prefer to stay in the shadows, I'd like to make sure you know how much I appreciate you all for giving this little blog a chance! Thank you!)

I will be back with more smut stories very soon! Take care everyone!

[animasola86]

I N F A T U A T E D ♦️MASTERLIST

original story ♦️ unnamed characters ♦️ very explicit smut

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

SUMMARY: She is a girl dancing in the club that he owns - and one day, their eyes meet, things unfold and escalate quicker than any of them expected, she specifically. He soon declares her his, and she follows, submissive and infatuated as she is, unaware of the sexual journey she is about to embark on.

GENERAL TAGS/WARNINGS: NSFW! Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use. (More tags at the beginning of each chapter! Read carefully!)

S E A S O N ◾️ O N E (10 chapters/~60k words total)

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

S E A S O N ◾️ T W O (10 chapters/~70k words total)

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

S E A S O N ◾️ T H R E E // P A R T 1 (5 chapters/~30k words total)

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

To be continued!

NOTES: I tagged this Dead Dove: Do No Eat for a reason. Please be aware of the themes mentioned above and at the start of each chapter. This is dark, unhealthy, and frankly very self-indulgent. And fiction, never forget. None of this is real. If you don't like any of these themes, please do yourself a favor and do not read/engage!

On a different note: I kept this purposefully vague when it comes to physical descriptions, so you can imagine any character here, if you like, or keep it neutral and anonymous, it's totally up to you!

READ ON AO3

PINTEREST BOARDS:

darling - sir - sir + darling - sir's penthouse: beautiful (work in progress) boards by the amazing pickles

I N F A T U A T E D: several boards including impressions of Sir, Darling, Sir + Darling, text posts, hands, and scenery, by me

INFATUATED BY CHAPTERS: work in progress of giving each chapter an individual moodboard, also by me

[animasola86]

INFATUATED ♦️ TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER ONE ♦️ SERIES MASTERLIST ♦️ AO3

He's given her a special task and agreed to help her through it, in his own way, of course.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Free use/power play. Assisted/guided masturbation. Sex toys. Voyeurism? Shady nightclub business. Implied violence. Fluff. Anal sex. (For even more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 8.7k

TWENTY-FOUR 🟥 TWENTY-FIVE🟥

He can't believe he let her talk him into this, wrapping him around the same finger that's supposed to sink into her cunt. And to tell her that he cares, that he's asking her to pleasure herself to make it easier for her? The worst thing about it: he may have even meant it, wholeheartedly. What has he become?

At the same time, he doesn't even care that much anymore. Seeing her smile, how her eyes lit up when he agreed to help her, knowing she prefers him doing all the work on her, no matter what, it warms his heart and thickens his cock, and in the end, that's what matters the most.

He told her to go to her room while he gets dressed and ready to leave, and he can still see how she practically skipped away, despite the soreness lingering in her body, her bruises and welts shining on her pale skin. What a strange girl. When he eventually joins her in her room, she's kneeling on the same spot he's met her these last three days, waiting for him, but instead of pleading with him, asking for a touch or a word, hoping he'd end her punishment, she smiles up at him, eagerly awaiting him.

His hand finds her cheek when he passes her, giving a gentle caress. “Come with me,” he tells her, walking towards her closet, hearing the hectic shuffle when she follows him immediately. He steps towards the cupboard holding the box of toys, while she steps behind him, her body heat seeping even through the stiff fabric of his dress pants.

For a moment he debates not going to the club and checking in, instead staying with her, indulging her and himself, continuing their leisurely day of cuddles and rough sex. But business is business, and she also has to learn to stay without him for a while without falling apart about it every time. Sure, it is cruel to do so right after her punishment of isolating her, but he doesn't really have a choice. And she'll be fine.

“Before we start,” he says while rummaging through the box, picking out which dildos he can 'torment' her with. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her tilting her head curiously, her hands clasps before her stomach. He pauses his search for the right sex toys and slips his hand into his pocket, pulling out the collar he took off her by the pool.

She stiffens slightly, craning her neck in anticipation. He watches her when he raises a hand and pushes her hair away, teasing a fingernail along her pulse and the crooked line of bruises. She doesn't even flinch anymore.

“Hold your hair up,” he says softly, and she does, wrapping her tresses around her shaking fingers.

He leans down slightly, gently placing the thick leather band around her exposed neck before snapping the lock shut, his hands remaining around her throat for a moment.

“Remember, this is a sign of my possession. You are mine, darling, only mine. But it's also a sign of our bond,” he adds, watching her closely, one hand moving up to touch her hands, releasing her hair, while the other curls around her neck, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. “You belong to me, baby girl, you are my property, and I will take good care of my property, okay? I'll come back to you,” he whispers, leaning closer to press his forehead against hers.

She bites her lip, nodding hesitantly, her eyes wide, pupils blown, his words definitely getting to her. His smile is answered by a deep blush crashing into her cheeks. Tilting his head, he brushes his lips against hers, staring her down, feeling her twitch against him, eager to kiss him back properly, but he pulls away before she can. His hand leaves her throat. A tiny sigh escapes her.

“But now back to business, hm?” he says with a chuckle, giving her a wink before turning back to the box of toys.

Eventually he picks three items: one large silicone dildo that's approximately the size and shape of his cock, a smaller one, ribbed with ball-shaped protrusions, that holds a powerful vibrator inside that's similar to the one she had up her butt before, and a long, medium-sized dildo that's very floppy and soft, ideal to be stuffed into an inexperienced throat. Giving her a gentle nudge with his elbow, he walks back into the room and places his collection onto the colorful duvet of her bed, motioning her to take a seat beside the objects.

She does, looking up at him like a deer in headlights, her thighs pressed together, her hands clasped on her lap. Before he engages her, he takes a glance at his watch, cursing the fact he only has half an hour to help her, before he slips out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt.

“Alright, tell me again what I'm asking of you,” he says, leaning against the edge of her desk.

She clears her throat. “I... uh... you want me to... to touch myself,” she croaks out, her voice still raw from his latest throat-fucking. Just the sound of that makes his cock twitch against the tight seam of his pants.

“Good, and you asked me to help you?” He tilts his head, watching her squirm on the edge of the bed. She nods. “How?”

“T-tell me what to do?” she whispers, chewing on her bottom lip.

He's tempted to reach out and stop her, but remains passively watching her. “Because you don't know how to pleasure yourself?”

“B-be-because I... I need your guidance,” she mutters, frowning.

He feels a smirk growing on his lips. “That you do, huh?” he muses, inhaling deeply as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Okay then, spread your legs,” he tells her.

Her breath hitches audibly, but she slowly follows through, unclasping her hands and pulling her thighs apart.

“Sit back on the bed, really spread those legs. Maybe sit cross-legged, if that helps,” he instructs patiently, his eyes raking over her body, noticing a deep blush creeping up her neck, almost matching the newest and deepest of her bruises.

She does as he said, shifting and squirming, crossing her legs in a way that opens her up beautifully, allowing him a proper look at her glistening cunt. Her gaze is uncertain when she meets his.

“Good girl,” he praises, smiling softly. “Now put your hand between your legs, just curl it around your sex.”

She's blushing more and more, and he wonders how she finds this easier than doing it herself without him watching her every move. He's never met a girl who's so ashamed of the idea of self-pleasure as she is. Shouldn't she be more humiliated by doing these things under his guidance and leering gaze? But then, she really does seem to need it, and in a way, that's been their dynamic from the very start, him showing her the ropes.

It is quite marvelous how easy it was for her to submit to him, to let herself fall into his hands, allowing him to do all these things to her that other girls would fight him for (had fought him for). She really is unique, his special little girl. And if she asks him to help her, who is he to deny her? It does mirror their unusual relationship, he may have abducted her, but she's asked him to take her virginity. She may not have imagined it all to unfold like it did, but he had delivered, and no matter what he expected from her, she had endured it all.

Eager to please, determined to make him happy.

And he wanted to give back, give her the chance to make herself happy too, but apparently he's corrupted her too much for her to be able to enjoy a bit of alone-time. Her dependency on him really is a blessing and a curse. He wishes he'd have more time, corrupt her to the point where she wants to be a horny mess, eager to use her own fingers whenever he'd deny her his... But not now, that'll have to wait.

Licking his lips, trying to force his erection down, he watches her place her hand on her mound, a hesitant gesture, her eyes flicking to him with a frown adorning her cute face.

“Now rub it,” he says, his voice a little rough around the edges. “Up and down, apply gentle pressure, until you feel your clit pulsing against your palm.”

Her breath is shaking when she starts moving her hand, her eyes trailing from his face down his body, and he wonders if she can make out how hard his cock is for her, if she can sense it, smell it? He surely can smell her arousal, that sweet scent assaulting his nostrils even though there's still several feet between them. How he wishes to bury his face between her soft folds, inhale her properly, lick up that beautiful nectar.

A groan escapes him before he covers it by clearing his throat. She stops, staring up at him as if he just told her she's made a mistake. “Keep going,” he says hoarsely. “Pretend I'm not even here...”

She frowns, pursing her lips, and he knows what she wants to say without having to hear it. That's the point. She needs him here. Needs his commands, needs him to tell her what to do.

“Or don't,” he adds with a smirk, finally pushing off the desk to crouch down in front of her, right by the bed, his eyes in line with her hand covering her crotch. “Keep rubbing.”

She watches him, chewing on her lip, her breaths becoming slightly more labored, her palm moving over her slick skin, her wrist jerking a bit quicker.

“Sounds good,” he whispers, folding his arms on the edge of the bed, leaning onto them. Her blush is adorable, spreading all over her body, making her ears burn bright red. “You're doing good, baby girl.”

“M-may I –” she starts, and he interrupts her with a hum.

“You can talk freely.”

“C-can you...”

He shakes his head, resting his chin on his arms. “I won't touch you, darling. This is all you. I'm just here to help. Yeah, keep doing that, a bit faster, more pressure, hmm, listen to those wet sounds. You're wet, baby, it's working, huh?”

She gasps quietly, her thighs twitching slightly. “N-no, it's... it's you... your voice... and... and how... close you are...”

He chuckles, smiling up at her. “Okay, close your eyes now,” he says. “Listen carefully.” He watches her, waits for her to do what he told her. When she does, he continues, talking her through it. “Curl your fingers, dip them between your folds, keep rubbing, yeah, index and middle finger is fine, quicker, come on. Good! Now imagine those are my fingers, imagine me sitting behind you, my arms around you, guiding you...”

Her reaction is immediate, her hand shaking as she rubs her fingers through her labia, her breaths labored, body shivering, eyelids fluttering. Little mewls climbing out of her sore throat.

“I'm always with you, baby girl,” he whispers, slowly standing up, watching her like a hawk, taking in every little motion. She's close, he can tell. A whimper slips past her lips, and another. “Press the heel of your hand to your clit,” he instructs her, carefully leaning over her. “Keep rubbing with your fingers, dip a little lower, yes, good, well done, look how wet you are. Come on, plunge them in, put those fingers into your cunt. Press them in!”

She wails softly when she does, the little squelching sound making his cock twitch. He watches her shudder, but he knows it's not the same sensation as if he would make her come with his fingers.

“Pump your fingers, darling,” he keeps going, standing over her, looking down, impressed how she squeezes her eyes shut, her free hand curled into the duvet, her knuckles blanching as she does so. “In and out, quicker, yeah, like that, ignore the noises. It's okay. It's normal, completely natural, oh how I love those noises,” he adds with a little groan, one of his hands palming at his erection. “Fuck...”

It's when her eyes snap open that he changes direction. It's an instinct, a reflex to pounce her, his hand on her throat, pushing her onto her back, his free hand fumbling for the largest dildo. She cries out, her legs falling open, her eyes wide and shocked. He leans over her, his face hovering close to hers, his breaths as labored as hers.

“Keep rubbing, pump those fingers,” he growls, and she whines when she does, squirming beneath him, her hips stuttering, thighs twitching against his.

He lets go of her throat, leans back on his knees and grabs her legs (the dildo falling to the side), before he pushes them up and into her chest, opening her up more. Her hand slips, but she quickly adjusts it to the new position, looking up at him in a mixture of fear and arousal, lips parted, these big eyes boring into his very soul, the squelching noises growing louder when she keeps doing what he told her.

He watches her, so tempted to free his cock and fuck her himself, but she has to learn, this is for her, not for him, his urges need to wait. Letting go of her legs (so proud that she keeps them up herself, her free hand curling around her thigh, while the other keeps pumping into her wet hole), he fumbles for the toy, holding her wide gaze, inhaling those little mewls, and when his fingers close around the soft silicone, he grabs her wrist and pries her hand away from her core, then smacks the dildo into her palm.

“Push it in, take it slow, you are wet enough, it'll just slip in,” he tells her quietly, fighting the urge to guide her hand.

She whines as she has to face the new task, but apparently she's needy enough to follow through, and he watches with growing admiration as she grips the base of the toy and plunges it between her swollen labia, the squelching even louder when the toy sinks into her and stretches her muscles.

“Slow and steady, no need to push too deep, just find the right angle,” he talks her through it, slowly leaning back on his knees, but before he can slip off the bed again, her free hand finds his arm, a low wail escaping her as she looks at him with big pleading eyes.

He shakes his head, pushing her hand away, nudging it to hold onto the toy as well. She complies gingerly, but quickly notices it's much easier to guide the toy with both hands.

“You don't need me,” he whispers, climbing off the bed, watching her. “Keep going, in and out, yes, you're doing so well, baby, I'm proud of you...”

A sniffle slips past her trembling lips, her face beet-red, exertion plastered all over her body, arms shaking, thighs twitching, hips stuttering. He remains standing at the edge of her bed, looking down, his shadow falling over her as she pumps the toy into her cunt, deeper and deeper, her wetness creating these intoxicating noises that gnaw at his resolve. Clenching his jaw, he tries to even his breaths.

“You can do it, darling,” he rasps, his voice raw. “Come for me, pretty girl, come on. Close your eyes, listen to me, remember what it's like when I fuck you. This is good, doesn't it feel good? I can't wait to fuck you too, sink my cock all the way into that sweet tight cunt... all the way to the very end...”

She cries out shrilly when she follows his words, intentionally or not shoving the large dildo as far as it will reach, which is surprisingly far (she's that wet, huh?), before she clamps her hands onto her mound and rolls onto her side, her thighs pressing together with a force he hasn't expected. Her whole body stills for a moment, her mouth agape but no sound comes out, before she starts tilting her hips into her hands, gasping and moaning, cute little mewls falling from her throat as she rocks back and forth, the bed squeaking quietly beneath her.

He watches her, his cock agonizingly hard, his hands clenched into fists, his heart hammering in his chest. What a display. Eventually she relaxes again, panting heavily, her body unfurling slowly. Rolling onto her back, she opens her legs, then her eyes, and when she meets his dark gaze, she removes her hands from her crotch and lets the dildo slip out past her fingers, a soft gasp escaping her when it leaves her fully.

“Fuck, darling, that was amazing,” he praises, taking an unsteady step back until he's leaning against her desk.

He was so close to shooting his load into his pants like a fucking teenager, just from watching her. The power this girl has over him. Insane. But luckily he still had enough willpower to stop himself, resulting in a case of vicious blue balls that he has to take care of before he goes into work. For a second he thinks of letting others take care of that, but then he looks at the pliant girl on the bed, still breathing hard, her skin slick with sweat, a beautiful blush on her cheeks.

No. He won't let anybody else touch him. Just as her body is his to touch, his is completely hers too. He wants her hands on him, her mouth, her lips, her holes open to him and his pleasure. He won't need anybody else for that anymore. He found the perfect little creature.

Inhaling deeply, he pushes off the desk, quickly palming at his bulge to adjust himself, before sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand finding her hip, her skin warm under his palm. “You did wonderful, baby girl,” he whispers, giving her a soft smile. “All by yourself.”

She sits up slightly, shaking her head. “No, I couldn't have done it without you...” she murmurs, squirming to get closer to him. He stops her gently.

“The next time you push that dildo into your sweet cunt, you'll remember my words, you'll close your eyes and you'll imagine me here, watching you, fighting the urge to fuck you senseless...” He sighs, pulling his hand away from her to push it through his hair. “You can do it, you don't need me here. Fuck that pretty hole for me, okay, darling?”

“Why can't you stay?” she whimpers softly, big pleading eyes staring at him.

“I have to go to work, baby. I'll fuck you when I come back, okay? I promise. I'll add some more bruises, eh?” He gives her a wink, while she bites her bottom lip.

“Okay,” she says softly, curling back up, snuggling into the soft duvet.

“And if you're really bored, you can train your other holes too, yeah? Experiment a little? There's lube in the box too, but you may not need it,” he adds, before picking up the long soft dildo. “This one is perfect for throat training, but be careful not to choke yourself, okay?”

A deep frown settles on her pretty face.

“Fine, guess we do that another time,” he sighs, standing up, slowly unrolling his sleeves as he battles the urge to do the opposite, really wanting to see those tears when he'd shove that toy down her throat. If only he had more time! “But tonight, darling, right now, you will keep playing with your cunt. I will watch you,” he adds, tilting his head towards the camera on the ceiling. “So you're not alone. I will see your every move, and if I'm not satisfied with what I'm seeing, I'll have to punish you, you know that, right?”

She squirms on the bed, nodding feverishly.

“So it's up to you, have some fun by yourself, keep that hole drippy and stretched for me, or suffer the consequences. I'll have enough time to think up a fitting punishment, don't worry. I am a very creative man.”

He watches her as he grabs his suit jacket and slips his arm into one sleeve. She's chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes taking him in at the same time as her hand moves back between her legs, a gingerly rub to her slick mound. He rolls his shoulders before buttoning his jacket, a smile growing on his lips.

“Good girl! You do know what's best for you,” he says with a slight chuckle. “Have fun, okay? I'll be back soon.”

On his way to the door, he checks if she still has enough water. He even sees the sandwich he made her this morning.

“Remember to take breaks too,” he tells her, hand on the door handle. She tilts her head up to look at him, her fingers continuing to slip between her labia, her eyes glazing over. “Stay hydrated, eat something. As much as I love fucking your unconscious body, I'd really like to have you alert when I come back later, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls softly, her voice vibrating with the effort of her flicking wrist.

“That's my girl.”

After speeding through the city, parking the car in a hurry, he enters the club with his head spinning and his cock throbbing. Rushing past the bouncer, he slips into his office, his phone in his hand, open on the surveillance app. He has no idea how he made it through traffic without an accident, with his mind as occupied as it is. He should have fucked her before coming here, now he can't wait to get back and unload deep inside of her. Instead he has to deal with numbers and logistics and the occasional trouble-maker.

Sighing deeply, he drags his eyes away from the video feed, despite the welcome sight on the display. His girl on her back, feet pressed into the bed, hips jerking up and down as she fucks herself on the dildo. For the third time by now, if he recalls correctly. He witnessed her second orgasm somewhere downtown, evoking the wrath of several other drivers as he missed the green light, twice, mesmerized by what he was seeing.

He can't believe how quickly she changed from being downright appalled by the idea of touching herself, to not being able to stop. His patience had been a good choice, a tactic he hasn't used much before, never seeing the need to ease any of his girls into anything. They either took it how it came or suffered through it, there was no in-between. His beautiful little girl however was worth it. He must be getting old and soft, he'd never imagined himself to be a teacher, an instructor, to help anyone through anything, not to this extent anyway.

He hates incompetent people, he always expects perfection, in the office or during sex. He used to be quick to punish, impatient and with a quick temper, too wound up to deal with little hiccups. How this girl made him change his way in such an absolute way, he has no idea. But it's too late to fight it. He now has to learn to live with it.

Opening his laptop, then leaning over to grab a bunch of mail from the edge of his desk, he steals another glance at his phone, watching her curl in on herself. Apparently that's her preferred position when she comes. He makes a mental note to show her other ways, when he notices her rolling onto her stomach, ass in the air, thighs twitching, her hands clamped between her legs before she pushes the duvet into a ball and starts humping it.

He laughs softly. Maybe she'll be fine. He may have opened the box of Pandora, unleashing her full potential, turning her into a horny mess. She'll find even more ways to relieve that tension, she just has to stay needy enough. He can't wait to watch her discover herself more and more. It really makes him proud to see this transition. His perfect girl...

A knock on the door snaps his attention back to the present. “Yeah?” he calls back. The door opens, letting in the low thumping of the bass before it becomes that muffled drone again. One of his right hand men has entered, the man as tall and wide as the door he's squeezed himself through. “Problems?” he greets him, placing one of the envelops on his phone to hide the screen. No one's going to look at his girl while she's fucking herself so adorably on her colorful duvet, the fairy lights gleaming above her. He sighs and turns his attention to the man on the other side of his desk.

His employee starts his report, not telling him anything new. The usual stress of running a nightclub that doesn't look too tightly at restrictions. It's Friday, so half the city may try to get in. He thinks back to that night exactly one week ago, when this sweet innocent girl has danced herself into his heart, no, his pants first. Sweet nineteen, looking quite a bit younger in the right angle, usually beneath him. They would have never met if he'd do it like the other clubs and only allowed in anyone above twenty-one. Now that he has her, he may consider changing it up again...

He listens to the tellings of the other man, leaning on his palm perched on his elbow, trying his best to not look too bored. His ears ring, however, when his opposite mentions the name of the other establishment he'd rather spent his time in. He frowns. “I thought I made myself clear that we only open on Saturdays and Sundays...”

“We had a reservation and a very generous donation,” his right hand man explains, shifting on his feet. “I thought you knew about it?”

“I certainly didn't,” he says darkly, turning his head to the screen of his laptop, bringing up the internal system before scrolling through the lines of data. “Who's opened today? Ah, of course. The bastard. And where's that generous donation, huh? Greedy, arrogant, and stupid...” He sighs, pushing his hand through his hair. “Well, fine, keep it open until ten, then send the girls home, no matter what the client says. He has to come to me if he has a problem with that.”

The other man nods, turning to leave. He holds up his hand, then stands and shrugs out of his suit jacket. “One more thing: go fetch one of the boys and bring in our culprit. I'd like a word...” he says as he starts rolling up his sleeves. Really bad day to wear white.

When he eventually returns to the penthouse, it's later than he has intended. Sore and angrier than he should be, he kicks off his shoes and undresses on his way to his bedroom, leaving pieces of clothing on chairs and couches and other furniture, not caring to leave a mess. He's barely had time to check the video feed, having to deal with so many layers of incompetence that he can't believe there isn't more blood on the front of his dress shirt.

People just never learn. Being too arrogant (or stupid) to think he wouldn't notice, wouldn't know what's going on. To go behind his back, to use the assets he built up and gathered, to steal from him? The insolence! The audacity! He really thought he's picked the right people, that he could trust them. Maybe it was because he's been quite preoccupied the last week, indulging in too much pleasure to realize the wrong-goings right under his nose. He'll have to make a proper sweep through his staff very soon, or the shit will really hit the fan.

He's almost in the shower, stripped to only his underwear, when he decides against cleaning up first. He can't wait any longer. The last he's seen of her was when she has taken a well-deserved break, curling up at the foot of the bed next to an empty water bottle. He hasn't checked since.

Walking back through the apartment, he unlocks the door to her room and enters quietly. She's not on the bed, nor in front of the windows where he's found her before. Looking around, he can't find her in the closet either. Rubbing his eyes, he then notices the closed bathroom door. With a sigh, he sinks onto the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, waiting.

He barely registers when the door opens with a soft click and her naked feet tap over the floor. “You're back!” he hears her soft voice, and it's enough to send a jolt of energy back through his worn-out body.

Turning his head, he can barely straighten up before she flings her arms around his neck and basically throws herself into his arms. One side of him wants to discipline her, order her to kneel, assume the role he wants her to play, but the bigger part just hugs her back, holding her against him, feeling her excited little huffs of breaths against his neck. Inhaling her sweet scent, he nuzzles his face into her hair.

“Did you shower?” he asks quietly.

“No,” she whispers, stiffening slightly. “Did you want me to?”

“No, this is better, you smell amazing,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the soft spot behind her ear, inhaling deeply. She basically reeks of sex and sweat, but it's the best smell he could have asked for after he'd feared to never lose the stench of blood in his nose.

“I... I didn't know when you'd be back... I... I wanted to make myself more... presentable...” she stammers adorably, squirming a little against him.

“It's fine, baby,” he sighs. “This is perfect, you are perfect...”

He lifts her without effort, turning them before he gently puts her down on the bed, where she scoots back to make room for him, her legs spread enough to allow him a glance at her reddened cunt. She must have really worked it.

“How do you feel?” he asks as he pushes his underwear down, then crawls onto the bed to her, nestling right between her legs.

“A bit sore,” she whispers, her arms wide open before she wraps them around his shoulders. “I... I really tried my best...”

“I saw,” he muses, resting his head on her shoulder for a moment, just enjoying the soft flutter of her body beneath him, the mattress dipping when he puts his entire weight on her. She inhales deeply, but accepts her fate without fussing. “You did amazing, darling,” he adds. “Quite the show you gave me.”

“I... I'm glad,” she mumbles, sounding rather shy and embarrassed, her small hands mindlessly rubbing at his wide back. “Thank you for giving me a push...”

A chuckle rumbles through him. To think the same girl would cry and squirm whenever he gave her a real push. What a transformation. He shifts on top of her, slightly rolling off her before gathering her in his arms and pulling her back against him. Her cheek presses to his collarbone, her warm breath ghosting his skin as she melts into him.

“Have you tried the other toys too?” he asks quietly.

She hesitates, her breath hitching. “No, I... I put them back... I'm sorry...”

“I'll help you train with them, don't worry, but not tonight,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Tonight I just wanna sink into you and stay like that until I feel better...”

“Did something happen?” she asks, her hands rubbing against his chest.

He pauses. There's been a shift, he notices. She's never been confident (or comfortable?) enough to really talk to him this casually, asking him about his day, speaking freely (despite the rule he gave her, but he's looking past that tonight). He took her away to mold her to his ideals, his body, his cock, using her like she's supposed to be used, and yet it feels like she's become more, not just a set of holes, but a beautiful girl with an innocent mind and a true heart, things he somehow wasn't able to corrupt.

And the worst part: he likes it. It feels nice to have someone care about him, wondering how he feels, apart from her initial infatuation or the fear/respect she has for him, different to her role as his submissive. It's a strange sensation, a warmth settling in his guts that has nothing to do with arousal or lust or the need to dominate. A different primal feeling he's never cared much about.

Comfort. The ability to let go in someone's arms. To let go in general.

He exhales loudly against her, still fighting the sensation, fighting the change. It's been one fucking week. He's always found release in sex and violence, and yet here he is, coming home with cracked knuckles and blood on his shirt, and the first thing he does, is cuddle the girl he's abducted and made his – and her indulging him like a lover would. It's twisted in a weird, unfamiliar way.

Her fingertips graze his throat, bringing him back to the present. Shaking his head to clear it off those new impressions, he then tilts it, looking at her. Her gaze is soft, sweet, worried. He shifts, brings his hand to her chin, giving it a gentle rub. She smiles shyly, her fingers brushing against his wrist, her eyes flicking down to his lips, his throat, his hand.

A quiet gasp escapes her. “Are you okay?” she whispers, looking back at him.

He frowns before following her gaze, then lets out a groan when he feels her gingerly touching the broken skin on his knuckles. There's still dried blood caked between his fingers. He really should have washed up first.

“It's fine,” he says, pulling his hand from her grip to curl it around the back of her neck instead. “Don't worry about it.”

Her eyebrows furrow, but she doesn't say anything else. He stares at her, his fingers digging into her hair, while he tries to focus back on his initial plan. What he was looking forward to ever since he left her, ever since watching her do her best to fulfill the task he's given her. All those other distractions slowly leave his mind as he remembers her riding that dildo under his guidance, slowly breaking away the walls of her aversion.

His cock gives an angry twitch against her stomach, his blood pumping harder. But then he hesitates, or rather, does nothing, doesn't follow the urge to roll her onto her stomach, straddle her hips and bury himself deep in either of her holes, rutting into her to release all that tension still nestling at the edge of his nerves. Instead he holds her, watches her, takes her in, breathes her in, fills himself with just her, this sweet innocent girl – who is probably waiting for him to fulfill his promise of fucking her.

He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead to hers, grounding himself. Luckily it doesn't take long to fill his mind with his usual darkness. She may have changed him, but she will never be able to rid him of all the depravities occupying his black soul. That would be a tremendous clean-up job. Taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes, meets her slightly confused gaze, then gives her a smirk.

A second later he's climbed off her and off the bed, walking into the bathroom to wash his hands, rubbing the last traces of the night off him. Time to leave new ones. She's still lying on the bed, on that colorful, bunched up duvet she's humped earlier, when he strides into her closet and goes straight to the box of toys, pulling out the ribbed vibrator and a full bottle of lube.

Returning to the room, he tilts his head. “Get up and follow me,” he tells her curtly, then leaves her bedroom, not even waiting for her to move.

She'll come. And she does, the little taps of her feet echoing through the apartment. He waits next to the door of his bedroom, holding it open for her. She slips past him, ducking her head, before he closes it behind her.

“On the bed, on your hands and knees, ass up, face down,” he instructs sternly, watching her curiously as she flinches slightly before following his orders.

He can hear her rapid breaths as she assumes position, her head turned to the side, eyes finding his as she pushes her ass up, knuckles blanching when she claws at the sheets.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, slowly walking around the bed, inspecting her.

What a sight. She's still wet, despite exhausting herself this much, for this long. He can't tell how often she's made herself come, rubbing and riding that dildo, unfortunately he had to stop watching her for the majority of the night, busy tending to other kinds of relief. But it doesn't matter. It was a good exercise for her, too bad it won't benefit her too much.

Climbing onto the bed, putting the items to the side for now, he rubs his hand over the bruises on her ass and thighs, the soft wince she issues making his cock pulse. His fingers slide around her curves, dipping between her ass cheeks, teasing at her puckered hole before swiftly slipping between her puffy labia and into her wet heat, making her flinch. His other hand lifts and slams down on her soft ass, his fingers curling into her as her walls clench around him, her surprised shriek music in his ears.

He grabs her hip, pulls her back as she squirms away a little. “Stay right here,” he growls quietly, pumping his fingers deeper into her cunt. She answers with a muffled mewl. He shifts on his knees, positioning himself behind her, his cock weeping to sink into her warmth, so hard already it's bouncing angrily against his lower stomach. He keeps his fingers in her cunt, slowing his pushes, while his other hand fumbles for the lube.

She lets out a soft whine when he abandons her cunt, giving her clit a little rub before moving his fingers higher. She shudders deeply when he pokes at her other hole, her body fighting to remain in the position he wanted her in. Is it cruel to make her play with her cunt all night only to neglect it in the end? Definitely. Does he care? Not at all. At least he brought lube this time, she should be thankful how considerate he is with her today.

She keeps flinching when he teases a fingertip into her tight ass, when he pops the bottle open and squirts a good amount of cold lube onto his fingers, when it slips into her, when he pushes one digit deeper to stretch her, adds another to reach further, pumps slowly to smear it all over her tense muscles. Her mewls sound agonized, her shoulders shaking, her back arching, her knees wobbling. He drops the lube bottle and puts a large hand on the dip of her lower back, pressing her down, holding her down. He feels her stiffening.

“Relax, you've done this before,” he tells her, scooting closer until his cock presses between her soft labia, teasing her.

Pulling his fingers from her ass, he grabs his shaft and swipes his cockhead through her wet folds, giving them gentle slaps that make her flinch. Her breaths sound rougher already, probably anticipating the worst, definitely fighting the urge to protest, to ask him –

“Why?” The softly whispered word makes him pause. So much for fighting the urge. He tilts his head, noticing her twisting her torso just enough to look back at him. “I... I've prepared for you... I did everything you asked...”

“You did, and wonderfully so,” he replies calmly. “But you said you're sore, didn't you? And I really don't want to hurt your beautiful little cunt. Don't worry, your other hole will do just fine,” he adds, watching her react to his words with a frown and a scowl and then... surprised pain.

Her lips part when he presses the tip of his cock against her sphincter, prodding, pushing, until her muscles give way and allow him entrance, making him slip deeper. A groan escapes him when a whimper slips from her throat. She shudders, burying her face in the covers, her hands clawing helplessly at the sheets.

He inhales deeply, savoring the fight, the resistance, the tightness of her ass. He could have prepared her better, but he also really had to finally sink into her depths, feel her warmth, her choking grasp, the gentle massage when she starts clenching around him. His hands find her hips, digging into the old bruises, pulling her back against him until he bottoms out. He stays like that for a moment, allowing her to adjust, but mostly relishing in the deep connection.

He's had her ass just last night, but it's different feeling her squirming against him, her muscles protesting, fruitlessly trying to push him out, the little noises she makes that she thinks he can't hear. He takes it all in, calming his heartbeat (and the urge to simply use her in the most feral way), before he rubs his hands up her spine, curling them around her shoulders, letting his body follow until he's leaning over her, pressing her deeper into the bed, flattening the arch of her back.

She gasps, turning her head, and he can see tears glistening in her eyes. His lips find her cheek, the salty taste making his cock twitch deep inside her. “You feel so good, darling,” he rasps into her ear, nuzzling his nose into her hair. “So tight for me, so warm, a perfect fit, wouldn't you say?”

All she can issue is a strangled whimper.

“Is it that bad?” he coos, almost mockingly, giving her a little roll of his hips, moving within her.

“H-hurts,” she manages to croak out, more tears falling from her lashes.

“Aww, baby, it'll feel better soon,” he whispers, playfully nibbling on her earlobe, filling his nostrils with that sweet scent, that mixture of fear and pain and innocence with a hint of arousal. She lets out a sob, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to bury her face back into the sheets, but he grabs her chin and holds her there, his lips ghosting her wet cheek. “Remember that you're doing this for me. You are mine to use however I want. Isn't that so?”

She blinks her eyes open, her breath hitching. “Y-yes, s-sir,” she stammers.

He gives her a hard peck to her cheek (in tandem to another snap of his hips), coaxing another whine out of her. More tears stream down her flushed face, and he watches them roll, gathering on her chin before falling and vanishing into the soft fabric beneath her. He can't help it, he has to extend his tongue and lick up a stripe of that salty taste. She shivers, her lips parting.

If she could, she'd turn her head and meet his lips, share the taste, but she can't move, stuck in her position under him, so he indulges her and kisses the corner of her mouth, his tongue licking into the little gap she's left for him. She closes her eyes, and he could swear she manages to relax, her body no longer as tense, and it's enough for him to keep going.

Slowly he leans up on his arms, shifting back onto his knees, his hands curled around her waist, assuming their known position, the bruises still shining under the pads of his fingers. He gives them a squeeze, making her wince.

“Put your arms behind your back,” he tells her quietly, and she doesn't even hesitate, quickly folding her arms, holding onto her own wrists. “Good girl,” he praises, his hands finding purpose around her forearms now, using her as leverage as he starts drawing his hips back, slowly, oh so slowly, the drag along her tight muscles such an exquisite feeling. He pulls back, back, back, almost slipping out of her lubed ass, but stops when his crown catches on her rim, and then...

“Ah!” they both make, she in pain and he in ecstasy, hers a cry, his a sigh, when he slams his hips back, thrusting deep again. He repeats the motion a few times, a slow pull out, a harsh snap in, out, in, out, in, until it becomes an in and out, in and out, a rapid back and forth, a feral rutting against her cushioned rear, their bodies bouncing on the bed, springs squeaking, the girl moaning and mewling, his low grunts and groans mixing with it all.

His hands bruise around her folded arms, holding on, rhythmically pulling her into him to meet his thrusts, his thighs burning under the strain. This is the workout he needed, the perfect finish to a day spent mostly in restrained pleasure. It has been nice to give her a break, to give back, but he'll make it a rule to never end the day without him fully indulging in his own desires. It's his right after all, her purpose.

It may be the position, the way her ass clenches around him, the steady slip and slide of his cock, the friction this delicious grind despite the lube he's blessed her with today (she really had it worse before), or the fact he's been hard for too long to bear, but in the end it doesn't take him long to feel his balls drawing up, the telling twitch of his cock to know that he's close. He leans up a bit, grabbing her waist, pulling her hips up, before he wraps his arms around her stomach and curls himself around her, giving her that last deep push, bottoming out until his tight balls press against her weeping cunt, empty and neglected while he pumps his spend right into the depths of her rear.

His drawn-out groan echoes through the room as he holds her, his cock spasming inside her, her body still except for the gentle clench of her muscles as if she's trying to milk him dry. He leans over and presses his lips to her shoulder. A few more spews and he eases his grip on her, gently rolling onto his side and pulling her with him, his arms snaking around her torso, careful not to squish her sensitive breasts. He remains buried inside her, savoring the warmth.

For a moment he just lies there with the pliant girl in his arms, feeling her soft breaths, her heart beating rapidly against his forearm. He nuzzles her neck, feeling the cold leather against his lips as he brushes them against her collar. Mine, he thinks. “Mine,” he whispers, moving one hand to grab her chin and turn her head to him. Her eyes are hooded, glazed over, a defeated look on her flushed face. “What are you?”

Her lips part, eyes unmoving, a soft breath ghosting his jaw. “Yours, sir,” she whispers barely audible, her voice a little flat.

He hums, leaning over to capture those quivering lips for a soft kiss, gentle until she eventually kisses him back, her tongue poking at his. A slow, sensual dance of gliding lips and wrestling tongues ensues, his hand holding her head, guiding her, the heat of the moment causing his cock to stir all over again. He gives her rear a gentle nudge, reminding her of their connection, making her whine into his mouth.

“Do you think it's unfair that you didn't come?” he asks quietly against her lips. She blinks, finally focusing on him. A frown appears on her face. “You didn't, do you realize? I didn't even touch you... This was all for me. Pleasure that you gave me, how you're supposed to. And you did so well, baby girl,” he adds, pressing his lips to hers once more. “Made me feel so good.”

She just looks at him, her eyebrows twitching as if she's processing his words. “Thank you,” she then whispers, making him arch an eyebrow. “For giving me the chance to come... before this...”

A scoff escapes him. He hadn't even planned it like that. Glad it worked out like that for her. Not that he'd ever admit to that. Instead of saying anything, he leans in and kisses her again, gently cradling her in his arms with his hips giving her the occasional snap. It's when he stops moving altogether, just enjoying the feeling of being buried inside her, that she starts squirming, not to get away, but closer to him, her rear nudging into his pelvis, as she rocks steadily on the bed.

He loosens his arms around her, watching in growing fascination how she curls her body, bending her legs, pushing and pulling until she is actually fucking herself on his cock. What a sight. He's too surprised to stop or correct her. Who is he to deny her? So he just lounges on his side, one arm propped up under his head, the other hand resting on her hip, following the tilt of it as she moves back and forth, his cock sliding in and out, her hole stretched and lubricated enough to allow for smooth motions. It's mesmerizing to watch, he's so proud.

Her breaths quicken under the exertion, and it's when she lets out a quiet whine that he eventually stops her after all, his hand pulling her back against his body before slipping down between her legs. She shivers, snuggling into him. He slips his other arm under her neck, draping it over her chest, holding her tightly as he starts rubbing the pads of his fingers around her clit. Little gasps fall from her parted lips, her hands clawing at his forearm, her legs twitching under his ministrations.

That little nub of hers is throbbing, hard, still so sensitive from hours of constant stimulation. What's one more orgasm, hm? He keeps drawing tight circles around it, a rough pressure, and she mewls and moans, writhing in his arms, her muscles tensing around his cock, her head turned away so he can't see her flushed face.

“Look at me,” he growls quietly, and she does, immediately, so obedient, her eyes hooded and wet, lips quivering. He leans in and kisses her cheek before nibbling on her jaw, mirroring her rapid breaths until she stiffens in his hold, mouth agape, eyelids fluttering, her legs curling up and squeezing around his hand when she comes with an almost silent little squeak.

He eases her through it, the tight rubbing becoming a soft gliding, gathering her wetness on his palm before he just rests his hand between her legs, curled around her soft mound, so warm and enticing. Closing his eyes, he holds onto her, and she nestles against his hard body. Her warm breath fans over his face before he feels her lips on his jaw, followed by a gentle “Thank you, sir”. He smiles, giving her a deep hum, too tired to do anything else.

With his hand between her thighs and his cock still buried in her ass, he feels exhaustion washing over him. He should really give her tight muscles and his cock a break, wash up, get under the covers, maybe?, but he also couldn't care less. She's warm and pliant, their connection too precious to disturb. It doesn't matter.

He's missed having her in his bed. This is her place, beside him, around him, his place to be inside her, holding her. It's been one week since he took her away on a whim, it feels like so much longer. As if he finally found what he had been looking for, without knowing he had been looking in the first place.

It's comfort. It's home. It's her.

TWENTY-FOUR 🟥 TWENTY-FIVE🟥

End notes: This marks the end of Part 1 of Season Three. I've hinted at some things you can expect in the second part in this chapter, if you're curious what's to come next.

Just FYI, I am not done writing the second part yet, so I do not have a specific date for you to watch out for. Just stay tuned, it'll come, I promise!

Until then, thank you for reading and following me on this journey of turning a porn-story into something more? We'll see how it'll turn out in the end.

Thanks again, see you soon!

By the way, if you like moodboards to your stories, I have a few Pinterest boards you can check out.

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

CHAPTER / / / ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[animasola86]

Hey Anima! I just wanted to check in on you and see if you're doing okay? I haven't seen you active in about a week so I just wanted to make sure everything is alright.

-🥒

Pickles!!! Thank you so much for checking in! You have no idea how much that means to me! <3 I was so worried and felt really bad that I wasn't able to reply to your amazing comment on AO3 yet... Let's just say, I had a rough week, but it is looking up again, please do not worry! I just didn't have the mental capacity to write a proper reply, in the way you and the others deserved. It is like that sometimes...

I've distracted myself with a lot of gaming, and these last days I spent working on a future project ("unfortunately" not Infatuated, but something I've had in the back of my mind (and hard drive) for a while and I felt fitted the dark mood XD), so everything is alright, I'm just a little behind on the social aspect of this hobby of mine, I'm really sorry!

I hope you didn't feel discouraged by my silence. I've read your comment so many times, I absorbed it all, and I will get back to you very soon! I really love reading your thoughts, and I'm so grateful you're sharing them with me! Please keep doing that :D

Thank you again for reaching out! That made me really happy (and teary-eyed T_T)! You are so sweet, the absolute sweetest! Thank you for being here! <3

I hope you're doing okay as well! Please take care! <3

[animasola86]

INFATUATED ♦️ TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER ONE ♦️ SERIES MASTERLIST ♦️ AO3

After he reminds her of the rules for their new life together (and gives her a special lesson), and knowing that she will do anything for him, she finds herself confronted with a task she may not be able to do after all...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Free use/power play. Throat training/fingering. Oral cockwarming. Oral sex/deepthroating. Fluff. (For even more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 8.1k

TWENTY-THREE 🟥 TWENTY-FOUR 🟥 TWENTY-FIVE

They soak a little longer in the pool until her fingertips are all pruney. He heaves her out of it, always making sure she doesn't slip. She's been terrified at first, too shocked to even try to stay above water when he threw her into the pool. It would have been a cute and fun thing to do, if she'd ever learned how to swim. But he couldn't know, so she doesn't blame him. She even tries to see the good in the gesture, a way for him to tease her in a playful way, without humiliating or hurting her, something he's never done before.

They lounge on the balcony after, still naked, the sun on their skin, she's cradled into his chest, cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes never leaving his face as she watches him with a growing warmth settling low in her stomach. The hum of the city swirls around them, lulling her. It's so cozy, feeling him close to her, knowing he won't leave her again. Her hand rubs lazy circles on his toned chest, his heartbeat steady against her palm.

If this is her life now, with him, she wants more of it, all of it, as long as he's with her. Whatever depraved thing he wants to do to her, she doesn't care. It's her purpose, it's okay. Making him happy is her top priority – because it makes her happy too. It's enough. Seeing him smile, hearing his praise, feeling his gentle touches, it's all enough to dampen the soreness she feels, the pain aching under her skin, none of it matters anymore.

So it comes to no surprise that she doesn't even bat an eye when he tells her, in his low voice, surprisingly soft: “Get on your knees, darling.” And she does, slips from his warm embrace, nestles between his legs, hands on his thighs as she looks up at him when he sits up slightly. “Hands behind your back,” he whispers, like a gentle nudge, and she straightens up and folds her arms behind her back, holding onto her wrists as she watches him with her heart beating a little faster.

He scoots closer to the edge of the chair, his thighs on either side of her body, his hands reaching out to tuck her wet hair behind her ears before smoothing through it, creating soft tingles down her spine. He looks at her almost impassively, but she can see the twinkle in his dark eyes, the excitement pulsing in the veins snaking down his body. She notices the twitch to his cock, but keeps her gaze fixed to his handsome face, observing every movement of his eyes as he observes her.

“You're so beautiful,” he says quietly, stroking his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, leaning around her to curl his fingers around her wrists, slightly adjusting her posture. His words and touches and the gentle dominance of it all leaves her shivering, clenching, yearning.

So when he tells her – “Open your mouth for me, baby.” – she does, tongue out flat, eyes still on him, her chest rising and falling faster. He leans back, shifting on the chair, tilting his head. One hand remains on her upper arm, applying just enough pressure to move her however he wants, the other sliding up until his fingertips graze along her jaw, circling her spread lips, teasing at her tongue. She remains perfectly still, focused only on him, and when he gently puts his index and middle finger onto her tongue, pressing into her mouth, she doesn't even flinch.

Saliva pools beneath his digits, and he uses it to move them in and out slowly, always nudging a little deeper, teasing at the back of her throat. She strains, tenses, at the same time trying to stay relaxed, to keep her throat somewhat loose and open for him, but when he pushes further, deeper, passing that still too sensitive point, she suddenly gags, a violent jerk crashing through her body, back arching, eyes watering, eyelids fluttering, her entire body fighting to stay still, and when she does, somehow, he pulls his fingers out and allows her to cough and take a deep breath.

“Good girl,” he praises, wiping his wet fingertips on her cheek. “Again.”

She is shaking slightly, gripping her wrists harder, sinking her nails into her skin, too tense, knowing what's to come, but keeping her eyes on him, on the proud look on his face, the warmth in his attentive gaze. She resumes her position, pulls her shoulders back, opens her mouth, ignores the drool dripping down her chin, and waits for his invading fingers.

They come, pushing deeper, his other hand now on her chin as he guides her face, holding her in place, making it impossible to jerk back. She is lost in his stare, the intensity, hunger, dominance, and when he breaches her throat once more, she is utterly surprised when she doesn't gag. A smile breaks on his lips, and she feels her cheeks burning up, eyes still watering, head spinning as he pushes his fingers as deep as his knuckles allow, holding them there, waiting for the breath she held to run out.

When her eyelids flutter, he loosens his grip slightly, pulls back, gives her time to swallow the excess spit, to draw breath, to fill her lungs, and when she does, he resumes the motion, pushes in and out, his fingers slick with her saliva, gliding over her tongue, pressing into her throat, once, twice, three times, and she gags, spasming against his hold, tears falling from her lashes when she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” he growls quietly, and she forces herself to do so, fighting to breathe, to get his fingers out, but his grip is too strong, his other hand now curling around her throat, applying additional pressure from outside. She gurgles, rasps, spit finding its way through her nostrils, despair taking over when he doesn't let go. His eyes rake over her flushed face, her vision starting to blur, black spots mixing with white dots, a wild dance in front of her eyes.

Then he draws back, frees her throat, his hands on her face as she coughs and splutters, lungs aching, chest quivering. His thumbs rub over the corners of her mouth, smearing saliva over her lips. She is still trying to catch her breath when he leans in and presses his mouth to hers, his tongue slipping deeper, meeting hers, the kiss adding to the vertigo she feels. Her eyes flutter closed and she leans into him, fingernails digging into her wrists to hold her position, knees aching on the hard floor.

He strokes her head when he leans back with a deep sigh, his lips grazing her warm cheeks, soaking up the tears falling freely now. “I'm so proud of you,” he breathes, barely audible over the thundering pulse in her ears. “You're doing so well, baby girl.”

She forces her eyes open, taking hectic breaths as she tries to focus on him. His praise settles low in her stomach, making her squirm on her knees. He rubs his hands along the sides of her face, smiling down at her. “Breathe with me,” he says, and she watches him inhaling deeply, his chest moving, making her mimic the motion, and after a few moments, she feels her heart calming down as well. “Good.”

Her lips twitch as a smile works itself onto them, causing his eyes to flick to her mouth for a moment. He lets go of her then and leans back on the chair, settling in its reclined position, leisurely crossing his arms behind his head as he watches her. The sun catches in his wet hair, illuminating his eyes, pulling her focus to how unusually dilated his pupils are. She remains kneeling between his wide spread legs, shoulders tense, arms behind her back, her chest rising and falling softly as she forces herself to look at his face even though she is dying to take a closer look at his body, wanting to follow those bulging veins, wanting to touch those shifting muscles, feel the coarse hair leading her focus downwards.

“Come closer,” he says quietly, tilting his head. She shuffles closer (an awkward movement when you can't use your arms for balance) until she hits the edge of the chair, practically feeling the heat of his cock against her stomach. “Put your head on my hip, darling,” he tells her, and she leans over, resting her cheek right next to his crotch, her eyes pulled immediately to his twitching erection. She wonders if she's ever seen him fully flaccid. She can't remember. She really seems to have some power over him after all.

The thought fills her with pride, a warm sensation crashing through her body as she relaxes against him. Taking a deep breath, his scent so close it almost makes her drowsy, she feels one of his hands on her head, stroking her wet hair, his fingertips gently massaging her scalp.

“Can you keep me warm?” he then asks, and she's surprised he's even asking her, giving her an option, even though she knows there's only one answer.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, straining her throat, and when she shifts closer and opens her mouth, he is already there and guides the tip of his cock between her lips.

“Good girl,” he sighs, leaning back into the chair, his hand still heavy on her head as she sucks him further into her mouth, her lips tight around his hardening shaft, those veins throbbing against her tongue.

She feels lightheaded, dizzy, but in the best way. The aches of her body dissipate as she focuses all her energy on holding onto his length, feeling its weight and taste and texture, his scent filling her nostrils, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. It's a bit awkward with her arms behind her back like this, but she still relaxes into it, resting mostly on his thigh, her lashes fluttering against his hot skin.

His fingers move lazily over the back of her head, lulling her further. When he speaks, she can't fully focus on it at first, before pulling herself back, feeling rather than hearing the rumble of his voice echoing through his body, as she tries to add the missing words in her mind.

“I think it's time we revisit the rules again, don't you think?”

She shifts slightly, tilting her chin up, tightening the seal of her lips around his shaft so he won't slip out. He's looking at her, one arm bent behind his head, his body relaxed, his eyes warm, but the muscle in his jaw is tense, giving him that stoic look, the dominant glare. It sends a shiver down her spine. She hums against his tip, her tongue rubbing along its ridge, pressing it into her gums. A twitch goes through his abdomen.

“The most important rule stands, of course. You will do whatever I tell you, whenever, wherever. No excuses, no hesitation. I demand complete obedience. Understood?”

The low timbre of his voice is so distracting, she can barely register the harsh words. But she hums nonetheless, the tiniest of jerks going through her head when she tries to nod, before slurping his cock back into her mouth. How is she supposed to respond while cockwarming anyway?

“If I don't give you any command, you will stand at attention, waiting for a command. Your default position will be on your knees with your arms folded behind your back. Do you understand? Blink if you do.”

She is beyond grateful when he seems to notice her predicament. She blinks, holding his gaze. He nods.

“If you have a question, you will ask to speak first,” he continues quietly, his body still reclined and relaxed, while his tone is becoming stricter, his cock hardening in her mouth as he goes through his rules. “Like: 'May I speak, sir?', right?”

She blinks, additionally nodding her head a bit, shifting closer to his groin to hold him better, allowing his tip to nudge against the back of her throat. A shiver crashes through her.

His hand flexes, slips into her hair, grabs her strands. “You're doing great, darling,” he whispers, breaking his harsh demeanor for a moment, causing her to blush deeply as she meets his warming gaze.

Suddenly he lifts his hips slightly, urging his cock deeper, making her flinch but not gag. He grips her hair tighter and holds her against him, a sharp breath vanishing into his lungs before he moans quietly. She is too stunned to focus on the reactions of her own body, mesmerized by his noises and the desperate grip he has on her. Her eyes water, her vision blurring, but she remains in her position, watching him, feeling his tip grazing into her throat, but before she can feel the impact of the move, he relaxes again, pulls away, his cock slipping back a little.

She breathes loudly through her nose, trying to swallow around him, hollowing her cheeks as she does. A drawn-out sigh escapes him, his fingers slipping from her hair to curl around her nape. “Good girl,” he groans.

When she shifts her head, cheek pressed to his hip, chin ghosting his balls, she catches his gaze, dark, pupils wide, the faintest hint of red on his cheeks. The sight of him sends a rolling wave of pleasure through her body, settling low in her core, her cunt clenching around nothing, bruised and sore muscles be damned. Her need for him grows with every twitch of his cock against her tongue, but she remains in her position, even though her fingertips are aching to touch him.

“I will take you outside again soon,” he says after a moment of just heavy breaths and deep sighs and quiet slurping and squelching noises whenever she either swallows her spit or lets it drip past her tight lips. “And while I know you will behave yourself this time, I will keep my eyes on you. The slightest sign of disobedience, and I will have to punish you again. Do you understand?”

A gurgle escapes her as she shifts against him, nodding eagerly, deeply knowing she will never want to be punished by him ever again. She will do absolutely anything to stay on his good side, no matter how humiliating. It is no longer about her, it's about him and his pleasure and keeping him happy. If she focuses on that, she will endure anything he asks of her. She has to.

His hand soothes down her shoulder. “I know, baby, don't worry. I know you'll be a good girl for me,” he whispers quietly, his low voice rasping through him and into her, causing her to relax against him.

She inhales deeply through her nose, sucking slightly on the tip of his cock, pushing around the spit gathering on her tongue. His reaction is immediate, a deep shiver making his thigh twitch. She can feel his fingers digging into her hair again, gripping it tightly, his breathing a little bit more agitated.

“Remember to just keep me warm, darling,” he says, and even though his tone is soft, there's an edge to his words, a warning. “I didn't ask you to suck me off. You need to stay perfectly still, all I want to feel is your warm mouth. Like when I have you under my desk, for instance. This is just training, but one day you will be a fixed part of my office, here or wherever I take you with me, and I don't want you distracting me, do you understand?”

She blinks quickly, trying to hold his gaze, slurping around his cock before immediately freezing, noticing her mistake. His fingers ease around her head, a gentle smile curling his lips.

“You're already doing great. Keep my tip between your lips when you swallow, it should be easier.” He tilts his head, waiting for her to follow his instructions.

She tries, her throat working when she swallows the excess spit with his cock still in her mouth, her lips tightening significantly around his shaft. A frown tilts her eyebrows down, she's certain she failed, but he strokes the side of her face, wiping saliva she couldn't keep in her mouth off the corner of her lips.

“It'll get easier,” he says softly. “Don't worry your pretty little head too much, okay? What's a bit of drool on my pants, huh?”

A sudden cold crashes down her spine as she meets his gaze. It's still a vivid memory how he fussed (exploded) about that particular problem last time, resulting in her thighs burning under the impact of his belt. Her frown deepens, her eyes watering slightly before she averts them, forcing the memory and everything that has followed away.

“I overreacted, darling,” he whispers, surprising her enough to look back up at him. “It will never happen again. I promise.”

She blinks, holding his gaze, a hesitant smile forming around his cock. He smiles back, just as gingerly, his fingertips rubbing along her warm cheek.

“You gave me your submission, and I will honor it as best I can,” he continues quietly. “But I am not a perfect man, baby, I'll have to adjust too.” He hooks two fingers under her chin then, lifting it slightly, causing his cock to almost slip out of her mouth.

His words grip at her heart, sending waves of heat through her body. Her hands twitch, so eager to touch him, feel his warm body, show him just how much she appreciates him, but she remains in the position he asked her to assume, following through, hoping he'll release her eventually. Or give her another smile, another gentle caress, anything, really.

He sits up then, holding her chin, shifting against her, moving her to adjust the angle. She's crouched over him now, neck bent downwards, no longer able to look at him, face buried in his crotch, lips tight around his slightly pulsing shaft. Breathing harder through her nose, she waits, feels his hands on her shoulders, nudging her into position, his legs pressing against her sides, keeping her in place.

“I am going to come down your throat now, darling,” he says casually, his stomach tensing against her head as he holds her close to his groin, fingers slipping into her hair.

She immediately starts hollowing her cheeks, her tongue pressing against the throbbing veins of his cock, her entire body eager to help fulfill his wish. His grip tightens.

“No, not like that,” he says sternly, and she stops, eyelids fluttering in confusion. “I want you to stay perfectly still while I fuck your throat, okay? You just keep your mouth open, your throat relaxed, tongue flat. No swallowing, you can just let your spit drip, it's fine. You can gag, but you will endure until I'm finished, understood? I know you can do this. You have to learn to trust me, I will not let you choke.”

As vile as his words are (the picture he paints in her mind already frightening), she leeches onto the softer parts, the reassurance, knowing he will not hurt her more than he has to. She knows, trusts, that he wants to keep her, so he wouldn't damage her beyond repair, right? Inhaling deeply, she nods against him, into the hold of his strong hands, telling her body to stop freaking out prematurely.

He shifts on the edge of the chair, standing up into a half-crouch, pulling her with him until she sits up on her knees, accommodating his height, her toes gripping onto the tiles. Her arms shake with how tight she's holding onto her own wrists, her nails leaving even more crescent-shaped marks on her skin. With her lungs already burning and her heart basically beating out of her chest, she anticipates the worst, but when he starts moving her head back and forth, she still gags immediately when he nudges his cock against the back of her throat.

“Relax,” he mutters, adjusting his grip on her head and his stance against her, allowing her to stretch her neck, easing her tense muscles, before continuing to use her mouth like the tight hole it is for him.

This is your purpose, you make him happy, do it for him, she keeps telling herself as she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to relax her jaw, letting him slip in and out, his hips moving in tandem to how he moves her head, his pelvis slamming against her quicker and quicker. She tries to focus on his labored breaths, the exertion that makes his legs twitch against her sides, how he's angled himself just right so his cock can slip deeper into her throat.

The first few times she endures it without gagging, but the faster he ruts into her, the further he tries to reach, with his coarse hairs tickling her nose and his balls pressing into her chin, she can't help but gag, her body jerking, fighting the sensation. Tears spill from her lashes while spit gathers in her mouth, his rapid thrusts creating wet squelching noises, loud gurgles, that distinctive gluck gluck gluck-sound she's heard in those disturbing porn videos.

He pulls back for a moment, a thick strand of spit and precum following the motion, connecting his tip with her lips, and she barely has the chance to breathe, to swallow (despite knowing she shouldn't, it's just a reflex, and luckily he looks past it), before he plunges in again, driving his cock deep, deeper, breaching her throat again and again with short rapid snaps of his hips. His noises grow louder, his motions becoming jerkier, the grip of his hands bruising around her head.

He keeps fucking her throat, her jaw aching, her head spinning, her neck bulging. It's a blur, a dizzying sensation, she keeps gagging but it doesn't matter anymore as he uses her contractions to jerk himself off, his groans vibrating through her until he suddenly stops, pressing her head hard against his pelvis, holding her there, his cock buried as deep as it can reach, and she can feel the twitching of his balls against her lips, the tip of her tongue squished against them as they pulse until that same pulsing goes through his cock, shivering all the way down her throat as he comes with a low moan, the heat and mass of his spend sliding down her throat slowly and unrestricted, spurt after spurt, gathering warm in her belly.

She feels like fainting as she waits for him to pull out, to release her, her eyes rolling back, body shivering, knees shaking, and when he finally does, his hand warm around her throat, he has to rub it a few times before she realizes she can breathe again. Rasping gasps echo over the balcony as she leans into his hold, too weak to move away. Spit and cum splutter against his groin before he sits down on the chair again, gently nudging her to lower herself as well.

His hands wipe at her wet face, mixing tears and snot and saliva. Her eyes flutter open, her vision still blurry, but she catches the little twitch of his finger, pointing down, as he leans back, letting go of her, showing her what he expects of her without saying anything.

It's an instinct at this point, a primal need to service him completely, and when she starts cleaning his cock with her tongue, he inhales deeply, sounding satisfied and content. He strokes her hair while she laps up and down his softening shaft, sucking gently on his tight skin, feeling the throbbing veins, knowing she can make him hard again like this. It gives her a sense of power, realizing the effect she has on him, and she would have pulled through, licking him back to full mast, if he wouldn't have stopped her by grabbing her hair and pulling her off him.

“Well done,” he whispers hoarsely, watching her closely as she leans back on her knees, rolling her shoulders, pushing out her chest as she faces him, his praise adding to the pride she feels. He keeps looking at her though, his eyebrow twitching slightly. “What do you say?” he then asks, tilting his head.

She clears her throat, wincing at the strain and soreness within, before she manages to croak out: “Thank you, sir.”

He nods, smiling softly as he reaches out to caress her warm face. “Exactly. I will not remind you again. Whenever I let you service me, you will thank me after, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she rasps quietly, nodding her head into his hand.

She notices how the muscle in his jaw twitches, before he suddenly stands up, pulling her up with him, his hands easing her arms away from behind her back.

“Hold onto my neck,” he tells her quietly, and she quickly does, unsteady on her feet as she is, happy how considerate he is. As soon as her hands curl around his neck, he lifts her up, hands on her lower thighs, nudging her legs to wrap around his sides as well. She clings to him, cheek resting on his shoulder as he holds her, her eyes glued to the profile of his face.

He carries her back into the penthouse, cradling her to his warm chest, his lips brushing against her forehead when he whispers: “My good girl, let me feed you properly now, hm?”

She feels a giggle bubbling up within her, with how soft he sounds, how small she is in his strong arms, how her head is still dizzy and empty and full of cotton at the same time, making her pliant and happy. He kisses her temple again, holding her tighter, his warm breath ghosting her hairline, while he makes his way into the kitchen.

She ends up on the edge of the counter, legs crossed and feet swinging, while he reheats the stew she has already forgotten about. It's strange how easy it can be, life with him, how there are no worries whatsoever, no shame. She is fully naked, as is he, and the sight of his strong body, how his muscles twitch under his tight skin with every motion, gives her peace, calms her, takes away any awkwardness. They seem almost equal like this, bared as they are.

He steps up to her then, his big hands finding her face before he guides her into a soft kiss, his lips brushing against hers, his tongue drawing gentle circles around her own. She leans into him, her hands moving up to hold onto his wrists, and he allows it, deepens the kiss until they are both breathless, having turned a simple peck into a passionate inhale of the other.

She sighs softly when he leans back, trailing his warm, wet lips down her neck, his tongue poking at the bruises she barely feels anymore (or is too content to acknowledge). His hands move around her arms, slipping under them, curling around her waist, pulling her in before he moves them up to cup her breasts, gently weighing them in his big palms, completely covering them. He gives them a soft press, reminding her of the state of her bruised nipples, making her wince quietly.

“You look so beautiful covered in my marks,” he breathes against her, nibbling at her collarbone before he moves lower, shifting his hands enough to plant warm kisses in the valley between her mounds. When he straightens up and finds her gaze, his eyes are almost black with how dilated his pupils are. She shivers under their intensity. “You are mine, darling, and I'll make sure you will never forget that...”

She swallows dryly, the sudden ache from doing so lost to her as she stares at him, feeling the weight of his words on her shoulders, sinking into her skin, finding their way straight into her weeping core. All she can do is nod. He looks at her, takes her in, unmoving, this wall of muscle caging her in, his hands warm and heavy on her breasts, before he suddenly moves, slipping his arms around her and pulling her against him, a quiet “Oof” escaping her as he squeezes her into his chest, hugging her tightly.

“Say it,” he rumbles into her ear, his breath strangely agitated.

Her hands sneak around his wide body, fingertips grazing his tense back when she replies without even having to think about it: “I am yours, sir.”

The pot full of delicious smelling stew stands steaming in the middle of the large table (first time she recalls using the dining table for actual eating), and despite the eight chairs standing around it, she is perched on his lap, one of his arms curled around her waist, her mouth open as he feeds her spoon after spoon of the hot broth. He looks so content, smiling whenever she swallows, either encouraging her through the pain in her throat or relishing in her soreness, you never know with him, though she really doesn't care anymore.

She wants to see him happy, no matter what makes him so, and his joy and comfort gives her the strength to ignore her own aches as best as she can. The stew tastes amazing, is wonderfully warm, easing her tight muscles, and having him feed her gives her a strange pleasure. It may look like a humiliating gesture, but in her mind it is him servicing her now, making sure she's fed and happy too. It's a nice balance, and she's sure he sees it the same way.

He seems to have lost a bit of his edge, that hard shell, the intimidating aura of dominance cracking slightly, allowing her to see how much he does care about her. It's these rare moments that cement her decision, that enable her desire to please him, to submit to him, to allow him to treat her like he does. This is her life now and it is a good life. He is giving her everything she needs, and all she has to do is follow his every word. It's that simple.

Or so she thinks until he brings up an issue she isn't sure she can confront, being commanded to or not.

He feeds her another spoonful, watching her closely. “I have a task for you,” he starts nonchalantly, dipping the spoon back into the bowl while she swallows and frowns slightly, shifting on his lap. “I have to go to the club tonight,” he tells her, pausing his hand when she flinches, visibly protesting that sentiment, fighting the fear of being alone again. “It's only for a few hours. You have to learn to be without me too.”

She doesn't even care that he can read her like an open book, she just doesn't want to be alone so soon after having to spend days and nights without him. Her hand curls around his forearm, holding onto him, showing him how not okay she is with his plans.

“It'll be okay, baby,” he coos, letting go of the spoon to grab her chin instead, rubbing his thumb under her bottom lip. “You'll be fine. Because you'll be busy doing something for me.”

She tilts her head, furrowing her eyebrows, unable to talk properly just yet.

“There's a box in your room, in the closet, full of your new toys,” he says, and she feels her heart skipping a beat. He notices, of course he does, and grips her chin tighter. “I want you to play with them. Pick something and entertain yourself until I come back. Should be easy enough, hm?”

He pauses, watching the reaction she can't hide, visible disagreement. His face hardens.

“Darling, this is a command. You will play with your toys, I'll know if you don't. You have to learn to prepare yourself for me. This is mainly for you, you know? I told you I don't particularly care if you're ready or not, I will take you even if you're dry as dust. You will be in pain and it'll only add to my pleasure. But if you make yourself wet for me, it'll be easier for you.”

She shivers deeply as she listens, trying to hold his gaze even when tears well up in her eyes. He lifts his hand, cupping her cheek, rubbing the wetness away as it spills over her lashes.

“I still don't understand why you hate using toys so much,” he muses quietly. “You said it's not the same, it's not my cock, but baby, just pretend it is, close your eyes and think back to the many times you got to service me, use your imagination!”

His voice is low and gentle, but his words cut into her skin, sinking deep, curling around her guts and squeezing them. It's a strange tension, and she can't even explain her aversion, it just feels wrong. “B-but...” she starts, her voice hoarse and raspy, and when he lifts an eyebrow, she inhales deeply, blinking. “M-may I speak?” she remembers just in time.

“You may,” he says.

“M-my body...” she croaks, lifting a hand to rub her hurting throat. “My body... is yours, and you're supposed to... to touch it... not me...”

A surprised smile breaks from his lips, a huff escaping him. “Hmm, fair point,” he chuckles softly. “It is mine to touch, you are right, but I demand you to cherish it the same way I do. Love yourself, darling, learn what your body wants, lean into it. I already know quite a lot about how this works,” he whispers, slipping his long fingers down her stomach to tease between her legs, causing her to inhale sharply. “And I intend to learn more, but I want you to do the same. Find out what really makes you keen, tickle out those moans, discover your own pleasure.”

More and more shivers crash down her spine, the combination of his low words and his teasing touches making it hard to stay still on his lap.

“I don't even ask you to edge,” he continues. “I want you to fully commit, make yourself come as often as you want, I want to come back tonight and find you completely overstimulated, exhausted and worn out, covered in sweat and your sweet juices, make a mess of your bed, your rug, your bathroom, I don't care. I just want to see you enjoying yourself.”

It's a loaded command. On one hand, he's actually allowing her to just be herself, leaving it as open as he does, seemingly really wanting her to be happy, focusing on her own pleasure for once (which is quite confusing, considering how mad he was before when she came without permission), but on the other hand, he does expect her to pull through, to do as he says, when she already knows she can't.

She's never been able to make herself come before, not in the way he was able to, and the last time he told her to finger herself has been under his guidance, with him right behind her, holding her, making it a whole new experience in and of itself.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of her body, she liked it the way it was, but putting her fingers into her own cunt was never something she wanted or needed to do. (She's tried to in the last days, fearing he may never touch her again, and while he's made her desperate and needy, and delusional and dizzy enough to put her fingers between her legs, it hasn't worked either.)

To be fair, she never really had a sex drive before she met him, sure, she had her fantasies ever since she first saw him, starting to dream of being with him in ways she couldn't have imagined back then, but other than humping her pillow a few times or rubbing herself over her clothes, she never indulged in self-pleasure before, the simple idea of owning a dildo would make her feel too uncomfortable to even try.

What he is asking of her now is just too much. She may be hornier now, her cunt weeping just thinking of being filled with his cock or fingers or tongue, but she knows she can't pretend it's him touching her, her own fingers won't even come close to what he feels like. Inhaling deeply, she stares down at where his cock is squished between her leg and his stomach. He hasn't bothered putting on clothes, or dressing her either, the feeling of his skin against hers something that feels natural.

It really is one thing to be connected to him so intimately, feeling him stretching her, filling her, moving within her, hot and wet, and a whole other having a rigid toy stuck inside her. Maybe it's because he forced her to walk around stuffed like that, only nourishing her aversion to dildos, or it's because they don't feel real and unattached, obviously, just a phallic object without a warm body. Not the same, she stands to that argument. She prefers his cock because it's his and he is a part of it (or rather the other way around, really), because she wants him, the whole package, his strength and warmth, his hands, his legs, his muscles, his lips, his voice, all of it.

A dildo just feels wrong and she really, really doesn't want to play with one, and the more she thinks about it, the tighter her throat gets, her guts clenching, her eyes watering, until a strangled sob escapes her.

His sigh pulls her from her clouded mind, his hand on her face, his thumb pressing between her lips. As soon as she feels and tastes him on her tongue, another instinct kicks in, her cheeks hollowing as she starts sucking on his digit, her eyelids fluttering, her mind simmering down to a quiet drone instead of the whirlwind it has just been. She finds his gaze, eyes glazing over the longer she suckles on his thumb.

“Baby, you're really blowing this out of proportion, hm? I'm just asking you to play around a little, have some fun with yourself, there's no need to cry. You've endured so many other things, you've been so brave before.” He shakes his head with another sigh, watching her closely. “Do you really not want to touch yourself? You only want me to do so?”

She blinks her eyes into focus, her fingers curling around his wrist, not wanting him to pull his hand away. With his thumb still tight between her lips, she nods eagerly, looking at him from under her lashes.

“Aren't you the cutest,” he exhales loudly, a smile in his voice. “I should be glad you depend on me so much, and I am, what a fucking treat! But, darling, really, what is the big deal here? Are you ashamed of touching yourself? You have no reason to, you are beautiful, every inch of you! You have no idea how much joy it brings me to feel your skin under my fingers, under my tongue, tasting you, sinking into your heat, experiencing the pulsing of your cunt, the tight squeeze of your ass, those contractions of your throat...”

He groans, closing his eyes for a moment, a visible twitch going through his body, his cock seemingly thickening against her leg. She keeps listening, sucking on his thumb, focused only on him.

“I know it's not the same to finger yourself or to train on dildos, but remember that you are doing it for me,” he adds, curling his fingers around her chin while he starts pumping his thumb in and out of her mouth. “You are training your holes to accommodate me, teaching your body what to expect, conditioning it to grow excited when I want to use you. I want you to stretch your cunt, get it used to the size of me, I want you to stimulate your –”

She hasn't even noticed him moving his hand until she feels his fingertip pressing against her puckered hole, making her flinch, eyes widening. He grins at her.

“I want you to learn to take it, no matter where, no matter when, I want your body to weep just thinking about me.” She feels his finger poking deeper, the rest of his hand teasing at her labia. “You are already learning, already wet just by the power of my voice, huh? Good, really good, but your cunt is one thing, baby girl, your other holes are just as important to me, and they don't get miraculously wider just by you thinking about it. They need training. I know I said I don't care if you're in pain and that I quite like how tight you are, but I want you to learn to love it when I fuck your throat or your ass, I want you to enjoy it and not be horribly sore afterwards. I...”

He pauses, slipping his finger out of her, rubbing his hand over her hip in a mindless fashion, his eyes leaving hers as he looks down her body, his jaw muscle working again.

“I care about you, darling,” he then says, quietly, not meeting her eyes, his voice low and strained as if it took him quite the effort to get these words out. Seeing him so affected only adds to the warmth settling in her stomach. “I can't believe I would ever confess to that, trust me, I never cared before. It's not who I am. But you,” he sighs hoarsely, finally meeting her gaze again. She stops sucking on his thumb, blinking slowly. “You're changing me. You already matter more to me than any other girl before you. I know this makes me vulnerable, but I also know you won't see me as anything less, hm? You want me to be happy, don't you?”

She swallows around his digit, slowly pulling it out from between her lips. He lets her, watches her. With her mind racing, her hands move before she can stop them, her lips trembling slightly as she parts them. Shifting on his lap, turning her torso towards him, she leans up to cup his face, feeling his jaw working under her palms, his dark eyes following her every move, his body tense beneath her.

“I...” she starts, waiting for any kind of reaction that would indicate she has to ask to speak first. He remains quiet, unmoving. She keeps going. “I am here to serve you,” she whispers, her throat still hurting with every word, but she doesn't care anymore. “To make you happy, yes. You've let me into your life... allowed me... to feel so many things... showed me... everything I could have only dreamed about...” A rough croak escapes her, something between a cough and a chuckle. “Things I couldn't even imagine. I am so thankful... You are so... good to me... You... gave me a purpose...”

While she tries to get the words out, his hands have found her waist, pulling her closer, holding her tightly as he listens intently. She breathes deeply, rubbing her hands over his cheeks, before she continues.

“I want to be good for you. I want to give back. I want you to use me however you want, but... but please don't ask me to... to...”

He shakes his head in her hold, his eyes hardening. Her heart sinks. “I will ask you whatever I want,” he replies quietly, his voice a little harsher now. “I am not asking you to kill yourself, you know? I am asking you to touch yourself, something you've done before. It really isn't that big a deal, darling.”

“I'm sorry,” she whimpers, lowering her eyes, her hands slipping from his face – before he suddenly grabs them, putting them back, leaning in until his nose rubs against hers. She gasps, meeting his gaze.

“Let me remind you: you gave me your submission, your trust, and I am here to guide you, to show you all those things you can't imagine. You are to follow my words, no matter what, remember?” His breath is hot against her quivering lips, her lungs burning from her not daring to breathe. “I know this is, for some strange reason, way outside your comfort zone, but I will not allow you to be conquered by your fears. I don't care if you fear me in the end, but I will see this through. You will do what I say.”

She swallows dryly, a new batch of tears welling up inside her eyes. He stares at her, his hands rough on hers, before he suddenly lets go and grabs her face, pulling her in to crash his lips to hers. She whines into the kiss, eyes wide before they flutter closed, his tongue quickly slipping between her parted lips. He's almost desperate in how he devours her, tasting her, holding her, she can barely mirror his movements, still overwhelmed by the turn of events.

He cares about her, doesn't want her to hurt when he takes her, allows her to explore herself to make it easier for her to service him. Those are all good things and she should be grateful, and she is, in a way, but the dam hasn't broken yet, her doubts and fears, her shame and aversion still too strong to buckle under the weight of his confession, his kindness. It's ridiculous, really, he's done way worse to her, demanded things she should be horrified about ever allowing him to do, but instead it's the prospect of having to pleasure herself, without him, that is choking her up.

She blinks her eyes open, mid-kiss, while his tongue presses hard into hers, their labored breaths mingling. His gaze is hooded, but he notices the subtle shift, before he leans back slightly, licking his lips, eyes narrowing as he watches her.

“What if... what if you... help me?” she finally croaks out, her lips tingling.

“How?” he asks hoarsely.

“Help me touch myself?” she whispers, trying to sort through the warbled thoughts tumbling about in her mind. “I... I know you've done so before, but... maybe it's... it's easier if you... if you're there... when I do it? So I... I'm not doing it... alone?”

He frowns, leaning back more, his hands slipping down her shoulders as he tilts his head. “It is called self-pleasure, you know? Between you and yourself? If I do it, it's called fingering, baby,” he lectures with a smirk.

She bites her lip, furrowing her brows. “I know, I just...”

“You don't want to be alone,” he sighs, shaking his head before reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. “You know I asked you to do this because I can't be with you, because you have to be alone for a while? I thought you'd appreciate it...”

“I do!” she quickly says, her hands curling around his shoulders as she shifts on his lap, angling one leg to shift closer to him, opening herself up in the process. His eyes shift down for a moment. She ignores it, doesn't correct her position. “Just to get me started? Ease me into it?” she continues, her voice more and more pleading.

“You are quite demanding today, hm?” he muses, his hands finding her waist, thumbs teasing at her ribs.

“I'll make it up to you!” she says quickly before any kind of panic can settle inside her guts, as she tries to smile as sweetly as she can to distract him.

“Of course you will, that's your purpose,” he replies a little coldly. For a moment he just looks at her with hard eyes while her heart is beating faster. “Fine,” he then says with a deep sigh, making her squirm on his lap, her eyes widening in relief. “I'll ease you into it, tell you what to do, but I can't stay long, you have to continue without me. And when I come back later, you will be a mess, okay? Promise me?”

She blinks slowly. No asking her if she understands, no too demanding tone, he almost sounds casual, nonchalant, gentle. “Yes, I promise!” she whispers, unable to hide the wide smile breaking from her quivering lips.

He rolls his eyes before he leans in, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her in to capture her mouth for a deep kiss. She melts into him, too content to realize what she has just promised him.

TWENTY-THREE 🟥 TWENTY-FOUR 🟥 TWENTY-FIVE

End notes: Will we continue riding this little fluff-train? Well... don't get used to it.

By the way, if you like moodboards to your stories, I have a few Pinterest boards you can check out.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday at 9pm CEST!

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

CHAPTER / / / ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE

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