The Invisible Hand

Author's note

(IMPORTANT):

This is a story set in modern times and

does not include any supernatural/fantastic element

. Rather, technology available nowadays (basically what's in your phone) is used to create the illusion of a supernatural power, for the benefit of the main character. How exactly this is achieved will become clear as the plot unfolds.

SUMMARY:

She learned to love her own body through his eyes, while every aspect of her life is invisibly controlled by her lover, whose uncanny intuition and perversion earned him the name "demon".

Now, she wants to help her friend find the same happiness and peace in submission she has attained, finding out instead that everything must change, no matter how perfect it looks.

RELEASE:

This work has already been completed and will be released in 4 parts, roughly once a week, to allow me to do some polishing based on the readers' feedback.

DISCLAIMER:

English is not my first language, so any comment on grammar and spelling is

very

welcome.

Don't continue if not comfortable with the following:

1) This story is slightly blasphemous.

2) Rough, straight and lesbian sex and a smidgen of erotic horror.

3) One of the dominants is anatomically a woman, but identify themselves as non-binary.

4) The protagonist is recovering from/battling with an eating disorder that is however

not

depicted. As it is stated in the story, her master's actions are only meant to help with it, not solve it definitively! That requires therapy!

*******************

Chapter 5

– No privacy

Seeing my demon is like looking at the sun. It hurts a little and when you stop, faint images of him stay with you when you close your eyes. Today is the first day after he left, a Monday, and I'm up earlier than usual, before his call to me. I don't know why I'm already awake, but I fully intend to stay in my bed daydreaming about last weekend for as long as I can. His afterimage lives through the eyes of my mind and the faint aching of my flesh where he fed off my pain. My skin remembers him just as much as my brain. The door is creaking. Did he have a change of plans? Is he still here? I excitedly turn around, naked in my bed, ready for him.

"Good mo– What the–" gasps an all too familiar voice from the blinding square of light that is now in place of my door.

"Mom!" I scream, trying desperately to claw the bed sheets that have fallen on the ground, in the vain hope of being able to cover myself.

"What is that?" she yells, grabbing them, preventing me from hiding from her, as I have for most of my life.

"It's none of your business!" I reply, trying to be assertive, but my voice is shaking anyway. I'm whining already, dammit! But there is no way of stopping this: she's already relentlessly splaying my legs, studying my belt, and I'm not strong enough to regain control of my limbs and my life! I never was with her.

"Who did this to you?" she hisses.

"I'm with you, my love!" he whispers in my ears, injecting confidence in me, "I won't let her enter your house unannounced ever again!"

I want to tell him that it's not his fault: she must have found some way to intrude in my life, as she has always done, because I never gave her the keys to my apartment!

So, instead, I talk to my mother:

"I did it, mom! It helps me!" I say, hoping that she thinks it's my umpteenth way of castigating my body, as tears flood my cheeks and my throat is choked by shame. I try to fight it: my voice breaking is just the sound of my defenses crumbling.

"Nah, ah! You don't fool me anymore, he did this to you! The animal you call your man!" she replies, with perverse satisfaction, because she reads in my face that she has caught me.

No need to pretend then. It's time for him to meet the parents, I guess:

"I wasn't lying! It makes me feel good and I consented to this!" I object.

"It's fucking medieval! You don't have to obey to him just because you are a woman! It's your body, for chrissakes! I raised you feminist!" she shouts in contempt, as she gets up and goes on to open the roller shutters, to put me even more in the spotlight. She loves the idea of being a feminist, it makes her feel different from her friends, more modern, but she mostly likes the fight against objectification, because she mistakes it for advocacy of prudishness.

"Yeah, and I heard you! It's my body and I wear whatever I want!" I whine, sounding like a teenager at 26, because I can't cope with this, I just can't. I don't know what's more frustrating and humiliating between she thinking that I have no respect for my womanhood or the fact that I still need to justify myself to her.

She scoffs at my response.

"Take it out, now! I won't have my daughter going around like some medieval virgin!" she orders, standing in all her height at my bedside.

I feel a clack on my tummy. He did it, he opened it. My hands fly to keep it in place

"No, I want it, don't take it away from me! Please!" I beg, not her, for she does not listen, she never does, but him. And indeed he locks it again.

"What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Is he threatening you?" she whispers, kneeling on my bed, trying to inspect my body, looking for marks as she has always done, ever since I was 15.

I wriggle, trying to fend off her reaching hands, but she's relentless, I kick, she screams and I crawl away, falling on the ground. I'm standing in a corner now. She's massaging her chest, where my foot landed. Her long, wavy brown hair is disheveled. The shock and disappointment in her eyes draw a long cold blade through my gut.

"Shall I call the police? Put your right hand on your head to say yes, your left to say no," he whispers, more worried than I ever heard him.

I choose the left hand. This event is unexpected and yet I have predicted it a long time ago. There was a plan in my head, if only I could manage to remember!

"You need to stop, mom! You can't barge in my apartment, in my life, like this!" I begin, trying desperately and only in part successfully not to cry.

"But I need to! You are like a junkie, for your sake you must not be trusted! You almost killed yourself, Nadia! I was there and I swore: no more! You need somebody to stop you from hurting yourself!" she shouts, getting emotional too. Somehow I'm the bad guy now.

"Go on! Like you rehearsed with me!" he incites me in my ears. Yes, with him by my side, I can.

"I have somebody, someone who actually is helpful! He loves me, he takes care of me and I love him!"

"Yeah? Like that?" she retorts, sarcastically pointing at my belly and reaching with her other hand for a shackle, "With these he trusts you?"

"Those are just for sex, it's called BDSM and I enjoy it!" I defend myself, feeling my insides melt for the shame.

"Oh, you are 'Fifty shades of gray' now, aren't you?" she mocks me.

This her M.O.: trivialize and conquer everything she does not understand.

"He's not helping you! He's brainwashing you to get in your panties and do to you whatever sick shit he's into!" she spouts, "If you actually wanted to get better, you would go to the community I found for you!"

"The same people who think they can tell me who I am? To be surveilled? To be controlled? To rely on prayer for healing from a fucking mental disease?" I yell, finally finding my anger.

"Faith helps a lot of people," she defends herself, while she loses some of her confidence.

"I don't believe in God, mom! Wanna know why I do this to myself, why I so fucking hate myself? Because through all my life people told me who I should be and when I wasn't that, to change, to get rid of the things that make me… Me! You all started murdering my soul before I even considered murdering my body! Well, enough! I want to be loved no matter what, I need someone who loves my flaws, who does not expect me to comply with their idea of me! I don't need God, I need the devil!"

She's agape for my blasphemy. I managed to shut her up, for the first time in my life.

"Now, out!" I scream at the top of my lungs, "Out of my house and don't come back until you respect me and my choices!"

My mom starts to cry.

"If I go out that door, it means that you finally managed to destroy our family!" she whines, apparently devastated.

"Don't fall for that! It's an emotional extortion!" he whispers in my ears.

"If you don't find it in yourself to try to accept and understand who I am, you probably only ever loved a fictional Nadia, not me," I rule, mercilessly.

She gets up, walks to me and slaps me in the face, not particularly hard, and yet it hurts like hell. One might think that he has done much worse to me, and yet he has never hurt me.

"Damn you, Nadia!" she hisses between her teeth.

The slam of my front door is my cue for collapsing into a ball and howl desperately.

"You did the bravest thing I ever witnessed, my love," he says, trying to console me, "Hold on just for a day, I'm coming for you!"

I desperately want him to be here, but I know that when he goes to Europe, it's for very important business for the company he works for and I don't want him to get in trouble. Besides, I'm not sure I would feel better knowing that I'm so weak that he needs to come rescue me every time something bad happens, so I gather strength from I don't even know where and plead:

"No, demon mine, you don't need to!"

I'm sobbing so hard, that I almost can't speak:

"I don't want you to! Please, let me prove myself to you!"

Silence.

"Be strong then, my love. I'll be watching," he finally concedes.

This is the difference between him and her. His control over me and my body comes from his deep understanding of both, hers stems only from the very coercion and threats she claimed to be protecting me from.

"I still want my pet to feel the warmth of my love," he adds as I keep weeping, "so I want you to concentrate on the sound of my breath, with your eyes closed, perfectly still. No matter what happens, you stay like that, have I made myself clear, pet?"

As I nod, the sound of his breathing fills my ears and darkness eats the world. Up and down his chest goes in Europe, and so does mine, slowing down to his pace. We go like this for a long time, until hands caress my hair and delicately push my head towards something warm and soft. I'm caught by surprise and yelp, but I obey my demon and keep my eyes shut.

"It's ok, I'm here boss," Sadie whispers, "he called me."

Now I'm weeping, but for gratitude, for the surprise of being loved so much by him and her. He knew exactly what I needed. He always knows.

We stay like this for a while more. These arms that hold me are both hers and his. When I open my eyes, I see that my tears have stained Sadie's black bunny onesie.

"Why are you in pajamas?" I mumble, because somehow that is the only detail that confuses me.

"Because your mom is a goddamn early bird!" she complains jokingly.

"Among other things!" I agree, "Thanks for coming here, you are the best friend in the world!"

"I truly am! Check these!" she says, letting me go and showing her feet: sneakers!

"Holy shit!" I gasp and then I hug her tight.

"I love you too! So so much!" I say, because nothing short of a deep love for me could ever induce Sadie to literally lower herself to these shoes just to hurry here.

"Now, why don't you show Sadie what a good pet does every morning?" he whispers, I blush. His timing is perfect, because between the good cry I had and what my lover and my friend did for me, I almost feel fine again. It's as if now I can pretend my mom never barged into my flat and I desperately want to cling to that illusion, but I need a powerful distraction, like some exhibitionism. Speaking of which, I realize only now that I'm naked, but I and Sadie are way past that.

"I… Ehm, I have to do my morning ritual, would you like to watch?" I blurt. Her smile says that she does.

So I go weigh myself, while she lies down on my bed with her head sticking out of its rim, looking at the mirror from upside-down and getting a better view of my ass:

"You are so beautiful, Nadia," she comments dreamily, only to gasp immediately after as she sees my outfit appearing on the screen:

"Awesome! It really looks like you are wearing it! I want that!" she exclaims, pointing a finger to my bewitched mirror.

I smile and I take her hand. Together we head to the bathroom. I ask her to look away as I do my business on the toilet, but then I let her watch with rapt eyes while I clean my pussy and my ass. It's weird having an admirer looking at me while I do this. No, not an admirer, a disciple: if all goes well, one day she will be doing this for someone too. That fills me with pride.

"How does it feel?" she inquires as I finish fingering my asshole and begin pushing in my butt-plug.

"It's hard to describe…" I mumble, pushing it a little further in.

"I hope Bryn makes me try then!"

"So, you are serious with them, huh?"

Sadie shrugs.

"Let's say that I'm very intrigued."

When I'm finally filled by the plug, I get up. My demon senses that and whispers:

"Why don't you finger Sadie, while you give me your pledge? I bet that she's wet now…"

I lower my gaze and blush. Why does he want me to get so promiscuous with her? Do I want it? My hidden pussy seems to know the answer with far more certainty than me.

"He's talking to you, isn't he?" she exclaims, amazed by the idea.

"Yeah… He wants to…" I stutter, not sure how to tell her.

"Would you like me to finger you, while I give him my pledge?" I finally blurt.

"Yes please!" she immediately answers, pulling down the zip of her pajamas and letting it fall. A little more embarrassed, for some reason, she also lowers down her lace panties. She has joined her hands behind her back and she seems awfully interested in the black tiles that cover my bathroom floor. She's adorable. So I get closer and take in my hand the padlock that still secures the collar around her neck, the one that I put there, I pull it a little and she meekly follows me to the basin, exhaling her sensual tension. I don't know whether it's going to be Bryn, but she surely will make her future master or mistress very happy.

"This is not a mere ritual," I explain, slowly lowering my hand, caressing the length of her torso, while she stands beside me, seeing in the mirror what I'm doing to her, "it's my declaration of love for him."

My limp fingers tickle her pubes and arrive to their destination. Her outer labia are puffier than mine, prettier, I think with a tinge of envy. My index delicately probes her: she's wet already. So I begin teasing her, moving it in round patterns, lewdly spreading her outer lips. Sadie gasps. I insert a second finger, applying now some pressure. Her breath grows labored. A third finger, and I caress her clitoral hood from time to time. I have the impression that it does not cover her button much, because I already feel what it protects on my fingertips. She's now audibly moaning and I can finally start, looking at the mirror:

"My demon owns my heart."

Sadie is pressing her lips together to muffle her aroused vocalizations, not to disturb me.

"Thus, he owns my body."

With the corner of my eye, I see that hers are gazing intensely at mine.

"My screams are for his devilish delight, my pain for his sadistic pleasure, my flesh for his lustful hunger."

She stumbles closer to me.

"He is the only thing I have to fear, the only darkness that inhabits my heart, and he's always with me."

She hugs the arm that is pleasuring her.

"I will obey to all his wishes and be rewarded with sinful pleasures."

Sadie's head is now resting on my shoulder, while she watches me with intense longing. I wonder if it is for me or for what I'm doing, as I repeat:

"My demon owns my heart…"

She gasps, I go on and recite my mantra over and over, while she clenches my arm and gets closer to climax.

"I will obey to all his wishes and be rewarded with sinful pleasures," I conclude for the tenth and last time, and I turn my head towards her: she's almost there.

"Please, boss, can you make me cum?" she begs, kissing my shoulder and looking up hopeful.

"You can't say no to such an adorable girl, can you?" he teases.

I bite my lip and stare at her pleading, needy eyes.

"Do it! Fuck her!" he encourages me.

But I worry: what if I cross a line?

"Trust me, it will be good for your relationship," he adds.

I do trust that he wants the best for me, but do I trust that he knows what he's doing?

I hesitate.

To hell with it! He's better than I at reading people so I turn around and kiss her cute round mouth, continuing my massage of her vagina. Her lips are so full and soft… I suck them a little, enjoying how they feel between mine, when she opens them and our tongues meet. I'm getting seriously aroused: I wish that he could free my vagina, but I know he won't. My cruel demon enjoys teasing me.

"Not like this, take your hand out of her, make her lick her own juices!" he orders.

It feels like someone removed their hand from a puppet: as my fingers leave her, she flops on me with a whimper, still intent on kissing me with greed. I hug my short and light friend with one arm and raise the other, until my hand hovers on her cheek. She must have sensed her own smell, because for the first time she is distracted from the kiss and opens her eyes. Our lips part and hers meet my index. She gives it a tentative lick, timidly looking at me, gauging my reactions. I nod, ever so slightly, and that's enough for her to open her mouth and clean my fingers diligently.

"Go to the bed, I want you to eat her pussy!" he commands.

So I do: I push her a little and lead her to the bedroom, my arm acting like a fishing line and my hand in her mouth an inescapable hook, which she keeps on licking. As soon as she touches the bed, she lies down and spreads her legs, sneaking a hand to her pussy, gazing at me in the eye, waiting, wanting. So I take out mine from her lips and slap hers.

"I'm going to eat you, doll," I explain after she squeaks.

Sadie is hastily making space for me, excited as I have never seen her. I really hope that he knows what he's making me do. Not that I need pushing: this power I have on her is arousing as hell, not to mention just how gorgeous she is. Am I bi? No, I don't think so. This is just he once again awakening something in me, this intoxicating love of the human body, my body, and its pleasures. So I lean forward and crawl between her legs and kiss her gently on the clit. She gasps. Her pussy is overflowing!

I just realize that, despite my experience at Bryn's, I don't really know how to do this: back then it was dark, my movements were limited and it was a totally different context. Once again, I seek his guidance through my memories of him doing the same to me. Since there is still some lube on my right fingers, I decide to make this really good and finger her asshole while I lick her pussy. While my tongue goes around her outer labia playfully slapping them left and right, I circle the skin around her butt-hole, my touch as light as possible, almost a tickle.

"Fuck me boss!" Sadie yells impatiently, looking at me pleadingly, but I want this to be awesome, to last, like when he does it to me.

My wet intruder is now eyeing her clit, running around it ready to pounce and when it does, my finger penetrates her, making her scream again. I lick and suck her button, using my chin to apply some pressure below it. Sadie rocks back and forth as I get more audacious: now my tongue penetrates her, goes up and out, pressing on her cunt, and ends the movement with a flick of her clit, while I fuck her ass with my index. Our eyes are locked on each other, I can see the ecstasy I'm inducing in her. She grabs my hair and hugs my head with her legs, as if she's afraid I would leave my post before she is done. The warmth of her body wrapping me is strangely soothing. My free hand sneaks from under her thigh and reaches her nipple and gets vengeance for the tugs she gave me at Bryn's. That's when she cums screaming.