This is a continuation of a story of revenge, sex, technology, and yes, even love. It won't make much sense on its own, and I encourage you to read the previous chapters to get the best experience.
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Caroline wore a red lace bra and matching thong as she carried Adam's dinner to him in the gorgeously appointed formal dining room. After setting his plate in front of him and filling his water and wine glasses, she knelt beside his chair and waited, hands behind her back, knees wide, eyes on him, just as she had every evening since she had awakened as his "remote controlled slave." Just for fun, he fished the ice chips from his water glass and placed them inside her bra. Although she tried not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, he could read her discomfort through the control interface. When he was finished, she was permitted to clear and clean the table, then clean the kitchen.
Adam remained in the dining room watching her through the wide entryway. He sipped his wine as she cleaned the dishes and wiped the countertops. He sent her a command and smirked as she immediately dropped to the floor and began scrubbing on her hands and knees, her back to him and her ass high in a lewd display. Eventually he came to kneel behind her, pushed her thong aside and slid his body into hers.
"You're not done yet." He informed her aloud as her internal remote control—the wireless interface as he called it- ordered her to resume scrubbing. He fucked her like that, kneeling in the kitchen with the scrub brush still in her hands. She angled her hips so that his thrusts were less punishing, but the commands in her head prevented more than that.
"Take it." He whispered in her ear, and she had no choice but to obey. As usual, he fucked her long and hard, requiring her to moan and beg before he chose to come, and ordering her silently to come screaming as well. It was not enough for him that he could make her submit. No, in the days since she had awakened to this nightmare, he routinely made her crave him, beg for him, come for him... and then recover and regret what she had just done. She did not know which was worse, having to obey while hating it, or being made to want it.
When her body recovered, she found herself alone in the kitchen, curled face down on the floor, her brain fogged from the force of her orgasm, but her body already wanting more. She could sense the commands in her input queue; she was not done scrubbing the floor yet, but she would be fantasizing about repeating what had just happened until she finished.
God she hated him. While he had been fucking her, she had felt only need and pleasure, screaming and begging for him not to stop, but now that command was gone. Now she was left to feel the humiliation of how she had just behaved, to know that she would behave that way again if he chose to come back into the kitchen, and to hate him and herself for it.
Her grace period timed out and automatically her body began to obey the commands it had been given. She scrubbed the floor, fantasizing that he was still watching her. She swayed her hips wantonly for her imaginary audience and stretched the brush out far in front with both hands, bringing her head low to the floor and her ass up in the air. She knew he was watching her. He was not at the table any more, but he was monitoring her through the interface like the ultimate hidden camera, watching her fantasize about him. She threw in hateful thoughts when she could, since he had not forbidden it and he would hear those in addition to her fantasies. She thought she heard him chuckle in the living room.
Apparently he was planning to conduct some sort of open heart surgery on the kitchen floor, because it was nearly an hour before she was permitted to stop scrubbing. As she worked on all fours, she had to clench her muscles tight to keep the mess he'd left inside of her from dripping out onto the floor. Finally she received the command to change clothes and clean herself up, then come to him. Defiantly, she realized that he had not told her WHEN to do it, so she deliberately took as long as she could. Eventually he noticed and forced her to complete her change and come to him.
Caroline found him in the bedroom, reading. She began to light candles around the room and then switched off the light. He was masking the commands now. She didn't know what she was about to do until she started doing it, almost as if it was her own idea, but it wasn't.
It definitely was not her idea to bring him two leather belts, one narrow, one wide and studded, from their storage cabinet in the closet. It was not her idea to lay them out neatly beside him on the bed. It was not her idea to lower the g-string panties she wore under her filmy black negligee and stand beside the bed, or to lift that negligee up to her shoulders when she stretched her upper body out over the mattress. When she was in position, she felt the command that locked her in place, and there she remained, awaiting punishment, until he found a stopping point in his reading.
The antique clock beside the bed said it was only about 10 minutes, but it felt much longer. Eventually he set down the reader and came to sit beside her on the bed. He did not speak as he began to immediately spank her with his hand; he did not have to. She knew she was being punished for her defiance, first in her thoughts in the kitchen, then in taking too long to come to him.
At his silent command, she moved to stretch herself over his knees like a child, and he adjusted her pain threshold so that every slap of his hand hurt unimaginably. This was another feature of her clone-remote-control-whatever-it-was body. He could make things feel as good or bad as he chose, without a word. With her thresholds set low, even a simple touch felt like sandpaper. She was instantly sobbing, and although he allowed her to wiggle and kick a little—mostly for his own enjoyment—she could not fight or pull away. Instead she begged his forgiveness for her defiance, pleading with him to stop the punishment and let her serve him instead. This was her own idea and that knowledge made it far more humiliating than when he commanded her to offer... she was willing to obey if it would make the punishment stop.
The punishment lessened. He continued to spank her, but he raised her pain threshold, and now she was mortified to find that he had not been spanking her very hard at all. He raised the threshold higher and she found she liked it, wanted it, and was begging for more, harder, faster.
At his silent command, she stood and picked up the studded belt, slipping it into his hands. She trembled as her body stretched back over the bed, and locked back into her previous position with her bottom bared hands outstretched. He did not double over the belt, but instead used it as a whip, the end flying out fast and hard to devastate her helpless bottom. When she tried to muffle her shrieks into the bedspread, he made her turn her head so that he could see her face and hear every whimper.
After a short while, he cuffed her wrists and secured them to the bedframe. Then the command holding down her was gone. As he resumed lashing her with the belt, she danced and fought against her bonds, trying futilely to escape his whip. Eventually Adam grew bored.
"Would you like to entertain me now, my pet?" He asked her.
"Sir?" She replied with a sniffle. He was not commanding her to use the title, but she hoped this small show of submission would mollify him.
"Ask me for permission to entertain me, unless you'd like to continue as we are?"
She shied as far from him as the restraints would allow, twisting to see him where he stood behind her. "No, Sir, please," she begged. "Please, tell me how you wish to be... entertained."
"I said ask for permission. Ask me to allow you to dance for me." He ordered as he unfasted her wrists from their restraints.
Her thoughts turned defiant for only an instant. It was unfair. He could make her dance. He could even make her want it. He didn't have to make her say the words. He didn't even have to vocalize the order. Making her ask was just an extra way to humiliate her.
"That's one." He informed her.
"Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It was so unfair! She hadn't even said anything, she was being punished for only her thoughts!
"That's two."
