Completely different than my first story, this could have gone into BDSM or Non-consensual, but I think MC fits best.
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Angela found herself at a table in a casual dining establishment. She didn't remember how she got there. That sort of blank had become common in the two years since Master had taken her.
Perhaps 'taken' was the wrong term, she had gone willingly. Gone to dinner. Gone to his house. Gone to his bed. Gone to her apartment and packed what he told her. Gone out the door with only the briefest glance at Jeremy, her fiancé, who sat immobile on the living room couch, though she did notice the look on his face. Sadness, pain, disbelief, loss, all pleading with her to turn back, to explain, to help him.
Ah, willingly! What did that even mean? Before Master it had meaning.
She would never have willingly had sex with a man she'd met a half hour earlier, whose full name she didn't know. She wouldn't have allowed the stranger unprotected sex. She wouldn't have allowed the stranger to tie her up and blindfold her. She wouldn't have enthusiastically devoured the anonymous pussy which had suddenly covered her face while he fucked her previously virgin ass. She wouldn't have loved him brutally entered her, bringing tremendous pain and the most powerful orgasm of her life.
She would never have willingly quit her job, especially without any notice, simply not going back to work, moving, and throwing her phone into the river. In fact one of the reasons she and Jeremy were not already married was because she would not give up the position she had struggled so hard to achieve. The position which required her to travel so extensively, which required her to drop anything and everything in order to set up meetings, to smooth things over when negotiations broke down, to gather and collate and summarize critical information needed by the top decision makers. In fact the only services her job hadn't required sexual. The company had other 'personnel' available for that. Though Angela knew that she might be called upon for that if the right person demanded it, or if there was a problem with one of the Assistants. But the rewards were worth it to her. At 26, with her M.S from the Kellogg School she was helping broker billion dollar deals. And her compensation, tiny slices of those deals added up to an amount that would allow her to quit in two years and marry Jeremy, stay at home with their planned children, and support Jeremy's career as a performance artist and filmmaker.
She never would have willingly cut off all communication with her family, with her two brothers and her baby sister, with her parents, with her Nana. Nana was 88 and frail the last time Angela had spoken with her, a week before she 'met' Master, finalizing plans to spend a week visiting her. Two years of no contact — Nana might be dead, Angela had no way of knowing.
And she would never have, under any circumstances, helped Master take her sister. Her beautiful, loving sister. The sister she had loved and protected and supported. The sister who cried for weeks before Angela left for college. The sister who had shared every significant detail of her life with Angela, in shared conversations late at night in phone calls and in dozens of letters (who writes letters anymore?)
Just yesterday, she had met Samantha as she left work on her way to her afternoon classes at the University. Sammy had been so glad to see her, she sobbed uncontrollably as Angela led her to the limo. Sammy got in, and it was done — Master was there, and he took her. Immediately compliant, Sammy had entered the house, entered the dungeon, stripped, allowed herself to be restrained.
Angela recalled what happened next with self-loathing. Master had released Sammy then. She became aware of her circumstances, and began to scream. And Angela struck her, saying "Shut up you silly fucking bitch."
When Sammy realized it was Angela who struck her, who betrayed her, who was cruelly laughing at her, she lost all control, screaming, crying, begging for Angela to protect her, to protect her as she had always done. And Angela had responded by flogging her, caning her and then whipping her, the whole time demanding that Sammy be quiet, which of course was an impossibility given the physical abuse being delivered by the person she loved and trusted most in the world.
That beating was just the beginning of the abuse Sammy suffered. Angela had helped Master rape her sister, who amazingly, was still a virgin at 19. She laughed as she wiped the mixture of the virginal blood with Master's cum over Sammy's face, and again as she wiped the mixture of blood, cum and shit from her other formerly virginal orifice over her face again. And she continued to laugh as she caned Sammy while a horrible, two-headed device was mechanically driven in and out of Sammy's openings while Master fucked her face.
After he finished, he had set some control on the machine, programming it to torture Sammy, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly, stopping and starting randomly, sometimes shallow, and sometimes impossibly deep. Then he left the dungeon and Angela followed, again with barely a backward glance. As they emerged upstairs, he said, "There, that'll keep her occupied for a while. I'm hungry, let's go eat." Then Angela knew nothing until she became aware in the restaurant.
And here she was, recalling everything, her family, her former fiancé, the atrocities she had endured, that she had inflicted on others...on her sister! As full awareness swept through her like a physical blow she looked up, filled with shame and horror and hatred, seeing wry amusement in Master's eyes. She realized whatever control Master exercised over her had been relaxed.
