Part Four: Prey Mentality
It was the dead of night. She was alone.
As far as she could see, up and down the silent street, there was nobody else around. Somehow, that scared her more than if she
could
see someone. She shivered, despite her thick sweater keeping the chilly night air at bay. The echoes of her own footsteps sounded through the darkness, each step upon the sidewalk sending another soft thud through the air. She shivered again, imagining what might be out there, hearing her steps, tracking her.
Hunting her.
This didn't make any sense. What was she doing out here, alone? Where was she? Why was she so sure something was out there? She didn't know. She didn't understand. Fear boiled in her heart until it overflowed, and she began to run. She didn't know where, or why, just that something in her brain was screaming at her to run -- RUN -- before it was too late.
But it already was.
Hands burst from the shadows. Countless, impossible, shadowy hands reached out to grab her. Hold her. Capture her.
One clasped over her mouth, before she could scream. Others tore at her sweater while still more ripped her shorts from her legs. Then they were all on her, tearing her underthings to shreds. Groping her breasts, her legs, her butt. Fingers ran through her hair, stroked her back, plunged into her defenseless pussy.
She fell to her knees in their grasp, smothered by the sensation, screaming silently into the violating palms of her attackers. She felt hands around her throat, squeezing, before pulling away.
Just as she realized a thick collar was wrapped around her throat, it latched into place with a deafening click, and Hannah woke up.
* * *
Hannah stared up the ceiling of her bedroom, panting, soaked in sweat, her sleep clothes and bed sheets twisted around her body. For some minutes, she lay there, disoriented and confused, while her sleepy brain tried to jump start itself. She turned to her bedside table, where her alarm clock read 5:38 -- hours before she needed to be up for class. Groaning, she stuffed her face into the pillow as she remembered what had woken her up.
She'd had that dream again.
It was the same nightmare, more or less, every time. It first happened not long after Renee had...left. Then a week later it had come again, then a few days from that, until now it seemed to come every night. Sometimes she was walking the night in her pajamas. Others, she was in a nightgown. A few times, she'd been naked. What never changed was that she was alone, she was scared, and she was always captured by a shadowy attacker.
And she always woke up horny.
Head stuffed into her pillow, breathing heavy, cheeks blushing bright in the pre-dawn darkness, it was all Hannah could manage to not stuff her hand between her legs and finger herself to orgasm. She didn't understand why those horrible dreams left her feeling like this, desperate for release, but she knew she couldn't give in to the urges. Still, she couldn't resist shifting her upper body, relishing the electric sparks as her stiff nipples rubbed against her sheets.
It was wrong. So, so wrong. She shouldn't be turned on by the thought of being...abducted. Being groped and manhandled. She had never been interested in being treated roughly in anyway -- her few high school boyfriends had all been sweet, gentle, and loving with her. That was the kind of man she dreamed of, not somebody -- or some
bodies
- treating her like a piece of meat to grope and violate. Yet something seemed to have triggered in her brain, some wire had gotten crossed from the shock of Renee's departure, and now she kept waking up desperate to bring herself to climax over a nightmare.
Finally, after several minutes of dry-humping her mattress, Hannah found the will to push the dream from her mind and properly get up. Sitting up, she tried to ignore the twin cones threatening to pierce her thin sleep shirt, and reached for her phone. If she couldn't sleep, she could at least distract herself from her own warped psyche by scrolling her feed.
That was a mistake. Her newly enslaved friends had all been busy lately, and they were eager to share their new lives as property with the whole world.
Sheena had posted a reel of pictures with her new tattoo, a bright red tramp stamp that read "PROPERTY OF ANDREW" in gothic font, with the crack of her ass just out of frame. The accompanying caption had a link to an OnlyFans page, with the promise of more.
Maria's latest post was a photo of her in a catholic schoolgirl uniform, a strawberry pink bra clearly visible through her semi-transparent white blouse. One hand was flirtatiously lifting up the side of her tartan skirt, while she gave a coquettish wink to the camera. It was tagged #JustForMommy.
Yvonne had posted close-up selfie, zoomed in on her tender neck. Bright red indentations in the shape of fingers were visible under her bright pink collar. "It takes a real man to leave his mark," read the caption.
None of it helped shake the guilty, buzzing arousal that had followed her out of sleep. Yet the most unsettling was Renee's post.
It was a totally normal picture by comparison. Renee was in a gingham house dress; one that reached just past her knees and matched perfectly with the frilly apron she wore over it. She was standing inside a kitchen, holding a steaming hot tray of food with a pair of oven mitts over her hands. She was giving a lovingly demure glance at the camera, and her presumed owner behind it.
It was simple image of domestic bliss, and everything Renee had always said she'd hated. The girl who had always told Hannah to have more confidence, to stand up when people tried to steamroll her, was now a doting housewife with a leather collar wrapped firmly around her throat.
Just seeing that picture made Hannah's pussy gush.
She sighed, closed her phone, and forced herself to get out of bed. She needed to get out of the room -- out of the house -- and somewhere public, where she wouldn't be tempted by these alien thoughts.
* * *
Thankfully, the campus coffee shop opened super early, and always had a few early birds or night owls coming in to welcome the sunrise. Hannah ordered her drink, and settled down with a book to idle away the hours before her first class. It wasn't even a particularly interesting book, but it didn't have any risk of showing her pictures of her enslaved friends.
She was so caught up in the task, she didn't notice somebody approaching her table, until a familiar voice spoke up.
"Hannah! It's been too long!"
Hannah jerked up, and took in the gorgeous redhead in front of her. The woman wore a simple white dress, complemented by a sky-blue jacket that emphasized her chest without actually showing anything. Black pantyhose peeked out past her dress' hem, capped off with expensive-looking but simple flats. But what really drew Hannah's eye was the polished, leather collar cinched around the woman's neck.
"Renee?" Hannah stood up, in shock, to see her friend suddenly in front of her. Before she could think of what else to say, Renee had wrapped her in a tight hug. Instinctively, Hannah reached out to hold her too, and struggled to hold back tears.
"Oh, I've missed you so much, sweetheart," Renee said, loosening her embrace but keeping both hands firmly on Hannah's shoulders. With 10,000-watt smile she asked: "How have you been?"
"I...I'm uh, I mean...I'm surprised?" Hannah mumbled. She had so many things she wanted to say, but couldn't bring any of them to mind with Renee right to her face. "What are you...?"
"Arnold had an early flight for a work conference. I decided to stop by for some coffee on my way home and spotted you. Happy coincidence, huh?"
"Um, yeah. Do you want to sit, or-"
"I'd love to!" Without missing a beat, the spunky slave sat herself across Hannah's small table.
"It's- it's great to see you," Hannah blushed as she sat back down. "I was worried, since you hadn't answered any text since you..."
"I'm so sorry about that, honey. I've just been so caught up with Arnold, between moving in and getting all the paperwork together for -- you know:" she gestured at the leather band adorning her throat. With a positively lovelorn sigh, she continued."I promise I wanted to talk to you and the girls, but time really does fly when you're in love. But enough about me, how have things been at the house since I left?"
Hannah took a deep breath to center herself. This was Renee; she knew that. Her friend still had the same sunny, casually dominating disposition as always. Yet instead of talking animatedly about classes or research papers or her family pets, she was gushing about being in love with a man old enough to be her father. It was surreal.
She remembered what Diana had told her when they first saw Renee's video -- that they should trust Renee, even if they didn't understand -- and tried to do just that.
"Things have been...complicated. Most of the others have moved out," Hannah answered, gripping her hands together.
"My goodness, what happened?"
"They...they all had themselves enslaved too."
From there, the details spilled out like a waterfall. Yvonne dropping out to become a fratboy's personal party slut. Sheena turning into a pierced camgirl who advertised for her owner's band. Maria running away from home only to wind up as an older woman's dress-up doll. When she finished, Hannah was fully in tears, praying that she'd at least kept her voice low enough to not attract attention.
"Oh honey, that must have been so overwhelming," Renee answered, genuine concern in her eyes as she reached over to grip Hannah's clasped hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you -- if only I'd known..."
"It's...it's fine. I'm an adult. I can't just...depend on you when I'm upset."
"Yes, you can," Renee said firmly. "I'm still your friend. Nothing will ever change that. And there's nothing wrong with needing help after what you've been through."
Hannah's lip quivered, before tilting ever so slightly into a weary smile. Collar or no, this really was her friend, the girl who had taken the shy, awkward book bookworm under her wing during her first time away from home.
