Big Fan of Your Wor

Note: As before, the subject depicted is a fictional creation and claims no relationship to any living person or persons. No character's thoughts or actions should not be taken as any kind of commentary on or depiction of any actual person or persons.

As many note with these sorts of stories, this is all well and good for fantasy and stories but the real world demands consent and respect.

This is a series, it would be best to read the parts in order to fully appreciate things. That said, what we have is a young lady who didn't quite realize what might happen if she went and tracked down the reclusive producer of the finest, most indulgent BDSM pornography the world has ever known.

He took her arrival in stride and soon found himself with the very sort of scenario his porn work had played at, and he is taking full advantage. She found ways to give a bit of that energy back, to take some ground (and some orgasms) where she can, but she's still playing defense and he's still a sadist.

10 days have passed. At the moment she appears to be a horny, broken thing. He has moved her from sleeping on the floor of the barn to sleeping in a cage installed where the tub in his bathroom should be.

Life in the house did turn out to be different than life in the barn. Out there she had felt mainly like a toy, something he took off the shelf, played with for a while, then put back. And she had managed a toy's rebellion, taking orgasms where she could get them, selfish little moments of pleasure.

But now she was in the house. Her first day in the house was pretty close to that of a literal pet. He took her out of the bathroom cage and taped her wrists to her shoulders, her ankles to her thighs.

He arranged her hair into two rough pony tails and then clipped a leash to her collar and tried to get her to follow him down to the kitchen. She had trouble walking on unpadded knees and elbows and after even kicking her lightly in the cunt didn't fix the problem he sighed loudly and lifted her up, carrying her down and depositing her next to his chair in the kitchen.

He had breakfast and periodically flicked bits of it onto the floor for her to eat. She did so, too hungry and in no position to genuinely object to the dirt.

When breakfast was over he poured himself a second cup of tea and angled his chair away from the table, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out. She looked up at it from the floor and knew instantly what he wanted and, knowing she had to maintain her broken and horny condition, rose up on her knees and took his cock into her mouth.

She gave what she thought was an honest effort for a few minutes, noting to herself that the smell was just past an erotic musk, just a touch into disgusting. Eventually he grunted and pushed her off, leaving her sprawling on the floor.

He left the room and was gone just long enough for her to seriously weigh how far down the driveway she could get on her knees and elbows. Then he was back, ring gag in hand. He fastened it into place and sat back down in the chair, bending down to scoop her up and return her to her previous task.

She stuck her tongue out over the bottom of the ring and let him go to town. He obliged, taking her ponytails as the handles they were intended to be and working her head back and forth, feeling the back of her throat, listening as her air was cut off.

"Fuck that's good," he said. "You give better head with a ring gag than most girls can without.". Mouth occupied, she said nothing. He was struck by the moment and what he had recently seen in her eyes, so he continued.

"Maybe that's not news to you. I wonder if the 33 men who got here before me really appreciated what they had." Here he paused, driving her head down, letting the very back of her throat do what it would, letting her squirming and struggling excite him even further.

"I know what I have. I wonder, though, if you appreciate what's happening here." Another pause, another deep stroke. "Do you know what it is, when a world class cocksucker falls into the lap of someone who really knows how to

full

advantage?"

She found herself appreciating that he was just rambling, and not interrogating her. Her mind briefly, very briefly, flashed back to the platform that had featured in "Tension." Only now instead of Holes 7 it was her, the noose getting a little tighter as she struggled with his questions. She cursed herself for the fantasy bubbling up on her.

"It's destiny, Lauren. I'm proud of you, did you know that? I see you sliding into acceptance, into taking your place here. You were always meant to be here, I hope you can see that. Things could get very interesting for you if you can start to see that."

Her heart started to race. Was this a sales pitch?

I am a world-class cocksucker, though,

she thought to herself. But she had no time to laugh to herself as he pushed her down onto the floor, shoved the kitchen table and chair out of the way, rolled her onto her back and mounted her face.

Her heart and thoughts continued to race as he pumped away. That

had

been his pitch, she realized. He had mentioned her eyes.

The dead-eyed looks she had thrown his way had worked, and he was telling her that it could mean that something shifts between them. She dismissed thoughts that maybe the collar would come off, and tried to rest her emotions on having achieved some sort of change in status.

Maybe I'll find something to work with,

she thought.

I'm closer now. I have to be.

She smelled his cum more than tasted it as he plunged deep and came down the back of her throat. He rolled off her and slumped, leaning against the kitchen chair.

"Are you listening to me, Holes? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She knew what he was looking for, and she knew that providing it would seal things, secure whatever it was she had managed to accomplish.

Luckily for her, the syllables she needed weren't the type to get lost in a ring gag. She tried to swallow what had built up in her mouth but couldn't, so she tilted her head and let what she could flow out.

"Yesh zir," she finally managed. Flat, affectless, dead. "Yesh. Zir."

"Good girl," he said, standing up. He wandered into the living room, leaving her there on the kitchen floor. She heard him settle into the couch and tap away at his computer.

She took a moment, but only one. There was nothing to process, no need to put herself back together. What she needed was a bump that reinforced what had just happened.

She summoned everything she had and rolled onto her knees. Then, using the kitchen chair to lower herself slowly, she managed to get on on three limbs, the two knees and an elbow. She took the remaining limb off the chair and slowly lowered it, trying to keep her balance the whole way.

If I'm a pet,

she thought,

then I'm a pet.

And with that thought she set off for the living room, gritting her teeth as her unpadded knees and elbows came in repeated contact with the ground, but trying to keep the pain and effort from her face.

He did not look up as she entered the room. Not knowing what else to do, she made her way over to where he sat on the couch and plopped down at his feet. She spent the rest of the morning there, able to see the main screen of his computer setup, which he was working with wireless keyboard and trackpad.

He was, of course, reviewing his own work. This hadn't been a substantial habit in many years but her entry into his life had his brain fired up again, and he had been spending time going over old work both knowing she had seen it and in order to further push his vision for what he might do with her.

From her vantage point on the floor she watched him flick through photo after photo; girls in cute outfits gradually (or rapidly) disrobed, their mouths stuffed with sponges or rags and then covered in tape, their tits tied in tight bundles, their legs spread wide, their cunts violated by dildos in the early years and then, eventually, his cock. Or left to shovel on the ranch, digging a hole and then filling it in as heavy iron shackles dragged their limbs down. Or humiliated, made to confess how desperately they needed to be treated like pieces of meat, like Holes.

There was still a part of her that wanted to be every single girl in every single photo.

It hurt, still wanting it when it had been forced on her. The majority of her was furious, to be sure. Resentful. Irate. But another part of her was more accepting of the fact that the situation was what it was and she had fantasized about all of this, at great length.

Holes 121 flashed on the screen. She thought about what he had said to her. "You don't need anything as much as you need to be treated like this, huh?" The question had come just before his hard cock penetrated the ass he had been decorating with deep purple can stripes. He had made Holes 121 answer. "I need is to be beaten, fucked, and used. I need it."

After a little while viewing his work with her at his feet began to get him worked up, and he cut loose the tape holding her limbs in place and took out the ring gag. He gave her a few minutes to recover some feeling in her limbs and to stretch her jaw and then he attached a leash to her collar and led her, stumbling, out to the barn.

He stopped by a gear locker near the entrance and emerged with what he fondly called his "Amish fucking machine," a segmented spreader bar that used the back-and-forth motion of the swinging legs to drive a series of gears that pumped a mounted dildo in and out. A leather belt that ran around the waist and connected to the upward shaft kept the whole thing from falling out.

He mounted it to her, or her to the machine, either way, and then continued leading her around the barn. What he wanted to use next was in the same locker the AFM had been in, but he was entertaining himself by not remembering that.

The effect was lost on her, however, as she was somewhere else, mentally, terrified that the earlier shift had been a mirage and she was going to be left in the barn for the night.

He completed his loop of the barn, noticing her lack of reaction as he did so.

Maybe I should be more careful when playing with my toy,

he thought, and in thinking so decided to change up what he had planned.

Though he did not think he needed to, he cuffed her hands behind her back and took her to one of the stages where he hooked it up high, out of her reach. The piece that he wanted hadn't been used in many, many years.

As a result it took him some time to move this piece and that piece out of the way, to peek under this cloth or that, until he found what he wanted and was able to get it out onto the stage. Eventually he had it, though, and he dropped it onto the stage with a thud.

Then there were more set pieces that needed to be taken from behind other clunky things, positioned and fastened into place, and finally some of it was wiped down with a rag.

Her thoughts were still running in circles trying not to panic about being in the barn again, so it took her a moment to process what was happening in front of her eyes.

It was the platform. The one bar prison, the mounted vibrator, the wire rope noose hanging from above. The one from "Tension." The one she had masturbated thinking about when she was in the pit. Had that been Night 2? Night 3? She wasn't sure. It didn't matter.

He unfastened her legs from the AFM and pulled the dildo out of her, tossing it to the side. He led her onto the stage and quickly had her feet in the shackles, then raising the one bar prison's dildo he slid that into her stretched and now soaking cunt. Handcuffs around her wrists made sure she couldn't adjust anything on her own.

How close the vibrator was to the model and how tight the noose was could both be independently adjusted, all the better to dial in the experience.

He reminded himself that he was playing, not punishing, and he took a moment to move the vibrator closer to her. He wanted this to be stressful but not the impossible challenge it had been in the original film it had appeared in.

He paused to wonder how long it had been. That had been Holes 7, he was positive about that, so it had been...decades. Too long.

Holes 7 had been a legendary model, had done shoot after shoot after shoot with him, brought him other girls. She had been perfect until one day she had a boyfriend, and then something he wanted to do was a "hard limit," and then she was safewording in the middle of a scene, and then it was all over.

That was what made his current situation so perfect. This one couldn't tap out and would be with him as long as he wanted. All the more reason to make this a bit of play. There would be time later for things more difficult, more intense.

He tensioned the noose and then stepped back, watching her swallow hard against it, watching her shift slightly on the dildo, pick up one foot and then the other, settle into the position. And then he turned on the vibrator.

She was having trouble managing herself. She had loved this scene, she had gotten off to it countless times, including a week ago. And now it was here.

Her fear over being returned to the barn receded as she tried to tune in to the sensations, the experience. The shackles on her ankles were heavy, the wire rope stiff and pulling ever-upward.

The one bar prison had some tilt to it and the vibrator looked just close enough to get to and she wondered if she could take it long enough to climax, or if she, like Holes 7 had, would wear herself out and end up fucking herself to exhaustion.

She looked up at him. She was just looking around out of uncertainty about whether or not she should try for the vibrator, but she realized when he nodded at her that he thought she was asking permission. That "yes sir" had gone a long way, she realized.

She pushed forward and found that she could get in contact with the vibrator without an unbearably excessive amount of pressure on her neck. It was there, her breathing was constrained, but she could breathe.

It won't take long,

she thought, and she was correct. A few short minutes later, lightly drunk on reduced oxygen and deeply overwhelmed by the whole experience, she came very, very, very hard.

He watched her do it and worried briefly about her collapsing, but knew that the noose would catch her and prevent any injury, but would she choke? He took some tension off the noose and decided to risk grabbing some gear for dinner.

Halfway across the barn he heard her start moaning again, and he laughed to himself that she was going back for more. It also gave him an idea, and when the moaning escalated to screaming he hurried to find the piece of gear he was now looking for.

There was some chance it wouldn't fit, and so he had to weigh some chance of not looking like he was masterful and in control vs what he'd get out of it.

She was catching her breath from a second massive orgasm when he emerged out of the barn's gloom. He had a small box with god knows what it in under one arm, but it was what was in his other hand that gave her a knot at the pit of her stomach.

It was a heavy iron chastity belt. It had been on plenty of Holes, too many to specifically remember.

There was an inch-wide iron belt that went around the waist, at the front of which were two short chains. They suspended a curved iron triangle that had a narrow slit down the middle. At the bottom of the triangle two more chains trailed back up to the belt, sitting under the ass cheeks, leaving things free and open back there.

She looked at it and wondered if she would be able to bring herself to orgasm by fingering her ass. She did not think so, and her first thought was that she had just lost the orgasm game she had been playing.

Maybe not lost,

came her second thought.

Postponed, maybe.

Being as it could be adjusted based on how you fit the pieces together, the belt went snug around her waist. The front chain was clearly short, leaving the triangle poking her rather than laying against her body, and he walked away to clip and replace the chain. She stayed put, more so due to the one bar prison than any choice on her part.

He had to take the dildo out to properly adjust the rear chains, but her hands were still cuffed and he took the tension on the noose back up one click just to keep things in order. With the shackles she couldn't lift her feet, but standing on her toes left her breathing well enough.

After an adjustment to the rear chains things were ready, and he applied the belt and closed the necessary padlocks. He licked his finger and rubbed it in circles on the point of the steel plate where he clit would be, smiling at her. She squirmed slightly; her brain was processing some level of phantom signal and it was a strange, strange feeling.

He took her off the platform and brought her inside after that, stashing her back in the bathroom cage in order to catch an early afternoon nap, then leaving her there while he went downstairs and prepared both a meal and her confinement.

Dinner was like nothing she had ever experienced. He came and released her from the bathroom floor, leading her again on a leash down to the kitchen. He sat her in an ornate wooden dining chair, lashing her legs to the front of the chair and her arm to the arm rests with a dozen leather belts.

He pinned down not so much as her leg or arm as her ankle, calf, lower thigh, upper thigh, on and on. Her chest, her neck. There was no room to even squirm.

Following that he drew a latex blindfold over her eyes, the tightness of it forcing her to close her eyes under it. A pair of noise-cancelling muff headphones were placed over her ears.

She sat in blind silence while he finished dinner, a dish of pasta with butter and cheese with roasted carrots.

She was startled the first time he poked her in the lips with a forkful of carrot, but lashed to the chair as she was she couldn't jump. She quickly put together what was happening and gratefully opened her mouth to accept the food. Things continued like this; he had made enough for both of them and he punctuated the food with sips of wine through a straw.

He left her in the chair after dinner, passing the time reviewing more of his work and dreaming up things he might do to her. It had been an intense stretch with her and he found himself nodding off early, so he figured he might as well move on to what he had cooked up for bedtime.

His bed was a plain affair, just a mattress between an iron headboard and footboard made of framed vertical rails. Infinite anchoring points, that had been the idea. There was a ring in the center of the headboard and footboard, again just to keep the possibilities open.

He led her upstairs and secured her collar to the center ring on the footboard with a length of chain, padlocked at both ends. He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, chuckling to himself that if she decided to run she would have to drag the entire bed frame with her.

He emerged from the bathroom wearing only a t-shirt, his bottom half bare. He placed a bucket at the foot of the bed. It was the same one that had been in the barn and she tried not to shudder. He set an alarm on his phone, careful to keep its face away from her.

"Let's have a little fun tonight," he said to her as he handed her a thin blanket. "What do you say?"

She looked at him and said nothing.

"There's an alarm that's going to wake me in the morning. If I wake up and my cock is not in your mouth, there will be severe consequences. How you handle that is up to you."

Fuck,

she thought. This was devious. She didn't know when the alarm would go off, and she had no access to a clock.

The room had paper over the windows so the rising sun would provide some level of illumination, but what if he had set the alarm before sunrise?