The Legal Process Pt 04

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.

"Thank you," she sniffed. "That's enough to reassure me on its own."

"I'm glad, Renee smiled. "But I'm still sorry to have left you on your lonesome. Though you should know, you've got nothing to worry about."

"...I don't?"

"Absolutely! You might not realize it, honey, but you are absolutely gorgeous. You'll have a master ready to collar you just like the others in no time."

Hannah could only gape. Her eyes went wide in confusion as she tried to process what her friend was saying.

"I don't..."

"Oh I know, you think you're just some plain Jane, but that's just the insecurity talking. I've seen you changing enough times to know you've got a fantastic body under those frumpy sweaters." Renee beamed, as if she was giving a flattering comment and not talking about her friend like a piece of meat. "You're just a bit of a late bloomer, is all. Why, I bet if you just put yourself properly on display, a wonderful man will take you in no time at all."

"That- that's not what I'm upset about!" Hannah hissed.

"It isn't? Renee looked sincerely confused. "Then what's there to be upset about?"

"I don't know, that our friends have all sold themselves into slavery? That they gave up their lives to be sexual servants to total strangers? That it happened to nearly everyone in our house in the span of a month?"

"That's all wonderful," Renee looked so lost. It was like Hannah was distressingly describing a clear blue sky to her. "Well, Maria will of course need a real master, but once a man claims that Daphne woman, they'll both be truly happy, just like Sheena and Eve."

"Do you hear what you're saying? You think they're truly happy as slaves?"

"Of course, honey." Renee gave an infuriatingly condescending smile, as if she were teaching a toddler to tie their shoes. "It's every woman's destiny to serve her master."

"My god," Hannah mumbled, pulling her hands from Renee's grasp. Too scared to look the other woman in the eye, she stared holes into the surface of her now-cold coffee. "You sound like you've been brainwashed."

"Well, that's because I am."

Stunned, Hannah sat still for a moment, wondering if she'd really heard what she just had. She slowly looked back at Renee, who casually sipped her coffee, totally guileless.

"What?"

"I'm brainwashed. How else do you think I ended up becoming a devoted housewife to my master? You know the old me would never have tolerated that." Her brilliant, chipper smile never faltered.

"You know you're -- but how- why- what?"

"Becoming a slave didn't make me dumb, honey. I remember how it all happened: After our usual meeting, Arnold drugged me, tied me up in his house, and showed me hours of hypnotic videos until he turned me into his adoring, obedient slavewife. He collared me, took my virginity, and then had me sign away all my rights before we posted that video."

Hannah's brain was doing backflips. This was it. Confirmation of her worst fears, of all the nagging anxieties that had been plaguing her for weekss as her friends were all turned into mindless fetish objects. And Renee was laying it all out like she was explaining a trip to the grocery store.

"If you know all that then...then why aren't you fighting it? Why are you just going along with it?"

"Because I've never been happier." Renee's delicate hand reached up to lovingly caress her collar. Her pink nail polish practically glowed against the black leather. Her eyes took on a distant glaze as she spoke. "Every day, I walk through life in total bliss. I wake up next to the man I love. I find total pleasure in serving him and taking care of our home. Every night, I submit to his every desire, and have the greatest orgasms of my life. All my silly ideas of independence ever did was keep me from this utter happiness."

"But it's a

lie

. It's just something he's made you want, not who you really are!"

"I used to think that too. I kept telling myself that I didn't want this, that I had to fight it. But you know..." Renee leaned forward, and whispered into Hannah's ear. "There was one thing that I couldn't deny. One thing that finally broke my last bit of resistance and allowed me to accept that this was what I really, truly wanted."

Hannah felt her breath catch in her throat. Renee's closeness, the scent of her perfume and the warmth radiating from her skin, made her suddenly conscious of her own body. When had her breath turned into panting? When had her face and chest become so flushed she felt feverish? When had her nipples turned to diamonds straining beneath her bra?

When had her hand strayed down under the table, rubbing her jeans into her soaking crotch?

"You see," Renee hissed into her ear. "When Arnold first took me, he grabbed me from behind, held me flush with his body, and pulled a chloroform rag over my mouth. And right there, as I found myself breathing in the fumes, helpless in his grasp, knowing I was totally at his mercy...

"I came harder than I ever have in my life."

Hannah whimpered in response. He pussy was on fire, sending waves of heat up her spine to scramble her brains. She hurried to cover her mouth, to muffle the moan that escaped her lips.

"That's right. It didn't matter what I thought I wanted. All my talk about feminism, liberation, controlling my own destiny. None of it could stand in the face of what my body wanted."

Hannah felt sweat drip down her faces. Her glasses steamed as her heavy, panting breath flared out against the hand holding her face. She could feel whispers of phantom hands stroking across her body, the nightmare -- the dream? -- pushing her deeper into a horny delirium.

"I wanted to be taken, to be owned, to be enslaved." Renee's voice was soft, but it echoed through Hannah's head with every word. "It's what every woman secretly dreams of, deep in her heart. I can tell that you already know that, Hannah."

The hands were everywhere. They were groping her tits. Pincher her nipples. Squeezing her ass. Pulling her hair. Most importantly, her own hand was rubbing furiously between her legs, soaking through her jeans. She was so close. So-so-so close-

"Well, I've got some errands to take care of this morning." Renee's voice broke through Hannah's near-orgasmic haze. The other woman was standing up, purse in hand. "I promise to keep better in touch, though I'm not sure how often I'll be available. Arnold's still very much in the honeymoon phase, you know?"

Hannah gaped, shocked by this sudden shift. She had just been about to cum in the middle of this coffee shop, but now... now? She still felt aroused, insatiable, still felt echoes of those imaginary hands toying with her. But suddenly she was back from the edge, and she desperately wanted back. She stared silently as Renee made to leave.

"And seriously, don't forget my advice. With the right outfit and makeup, you'll be on your knees where you belong in no time. Just put yourself out there!"

With that cheery promise, the beautiful, happy slave pranced out of the shop.

* * *

Hannah stumbled into the house in a daze. Any thoughts of her classes were long gone, along with any worries of what a mess she must look like to anyone on the streets. Her brain was spinning from her talk with Renee, and her body was on fire. She need to be alone -- now.

The moment her door closed she was tearing off her clothes, tossing soaked underwear to the floor. She threw herself backwards onto the bed, hands darting to her soaking cunt, as she desperately played with her clit.

The dam had broken. Endless, splintered fantasies were flowing out of her mind, each one of them more terrifying, more tantalizing than the last. Dreams of submission, humiliation, violation, roared through her mind as she desperately tried to cum.

She was on her hands and knees, naked, a leash tied to her neck. With a swift tug, the man holding the other end urged her forward, and she followed her master like an obedient puppy.

She was on her knees, hands and elbows bound together behind her back, staring up at an enormous cock. Her eyes followed the purple, pulsing tip as it swayed back and forth...back and forth...back and forth...

She was at a house party, being passed from lap to lap. One by one, dozens of men used her holes, filled her with their seed, then handed her off like a cheap party favor. With each new cock, she begged harder, louder, more desperately, like the cum-addicted whore she was.

It wasn't enough. Every new fantasy was filthier, more degrading than the last, but she couldn't get off. Her tits and pussy were sore from the attention, and she could feel her body getting so tantalizingly close to the edge, but nothing worked. Finally, exhausted and frustrated, Hannah let her hands fall to her side, and passed out.

* * *

Hours later, she was awake, but far from rested. Her body was a slimy, sticky mess. Her hair was plastered to her head from sweat. Her muscles ached and groaned as she sat up. Her fingers were raw and sore. Yet still, there was a fire in her stomach aching to climax.

A look towards the windows showed it was night time. The clock said it was nearly midnight. She'd slept through the whole day, and still felt like a wreck, seeing the world through a mental haze.

Maybe that was why it took so long before she noticed the giftbox at the foot of her bed.

It was about two feet tall and wide, rather flat, and tied up in a gauzy yellow ribbon. Confused and curious, she sat up and spotted a small card on top. With fumbling fingers, she unfolded the card, and found a simple, hand-written message inside.

"It's time to follow your dreams." - Diana