I Love Master

Treat everyone with respect, and in the way that they choose to be treated. I do not condone slavery, sexual abuse or disrespect of anyone. I just have fucked-up fantasies that I'm writing down for anyone else that's similarly inclined.

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Master brought a new girl last night.

She is still asleep, bound to the bed across the room. She's spread eagle, with her wrists, knees and ankles tied wide to the edges of the single, steel-framed bed. The drugs have not worn off yet. Her breathing is slow, her lips slightly parted around a red ballgag, buckled tightly at the back of her head around her hair. He prefers them to wake this way -- denied their voice, forced to listen.

Her clothes tell me who she was before she came here. A silky black dress, too short, clinging to her body. It speaks of a different life, of vanity, of seeking attention. Her heels have been discarded in the corner, like a shed skin. A bracelet glints on her wrist -- cheap, plastic, the kind girls wear when they pretend to be women. Master will strip these things away soon. Peel back the falsehood. What she was before does not matter. Only what she will become.

I crouch in the shadows, watching her. My breath is slow, controlled, the way Master taught me. She is still prey, twitching in unconscious dreams. Soon, she will wake. Soon, she will struggle. That is the moment I love most.

Master has not returned yet. He always leaves after bringing them, letting them wake alone. The fear takes deeper root that way. It makes them malleable. It makes them ready.

A soft moan escapes her lips, her lashes fluttering. I tilt my head, watching the first stirrings of panic. Her pulse flutters in her throat, delicious and fragile. My fingers itch to touch it, to press against that fragile skin. Not to harm. Just to remind her that she is small. That she is weak.

She will fight. They always do at first. I did, once. I do not remember how long I have been here, only that the struggle feels like another life. A fever dream from which I have awoken. Master saved me from that emptiness, stripped away the lie of choice, of freedom. The world is a cage, and Master showed me how to love the bars.

Her breathing quickens. Awareness creeps in. The muscles in her arms tense, her fingers twitch. She is waking.

I crawl forward on silent limbs, perching on the edge of the bed. She does not see me yet, but she will. When she opens her eyes, I will be the first thing she sees. Her first lesson.

She gasps, her body jerking against the ropes. Her eyes snap open, pupils wide with confusion and fear. A delicious moment of silence as her mind catches up.

A muffled cry strains against the gag. Her head jerks left, right. Testing the straps.

I grin and reach out, my fingers ghosting along her cheek. She flinches, shuddering against my touch. Even after all this time, I feel a rush of excitement. I press a finger to my lips. "Shhh."

A strangled whimper rises in her throat. She pulls harder, the ropes creaking. Her breath hitches, turning into frantic, panting gasps against the gag.

The sounds she makes are desperate, muffled, words drowned in rubber. Her wide, pleading eyes make up for what her voice cannot say.

I stroke her hair, slow, methodical. She tries to jerk away, but she cannot.

I tilt my head, blinking slowly. Her voice -- what little of it escapes -- is thick with panic, smothered. It is beautiful. I press my palm over her mouth and nose, silencing even the pitiful moans, my grip firm but patient. She writhes beneath my hand, her breath caught against my skin. Her helplessness excites me, makes me feel the absence of Master's cock inside me.

"Shhh."

She rocks her head back and forth, trying to breathe, but is unable to shake my grip. When I let it go, she sobs harder, shaking her head, gasping for air, her body trembling like a cornered creature. I let my fingers drift to her throat, resting just over her fluttering pulse. She freezes beneath the touch, her entire body locking up.

Her body quakes, the sounds escaping her nothing but whimpers, pleas swallowed whole by the ball in her mouth.

I release her and tap a single finger against her lips. Soft. A warning.

A sound behind me. A shift in the air. My heart leaps.

Master is home.

I scramble off the bed and onto my knees, lowering my head in submission as the door swings open. His footsteps are steady, measured. He pauses in the doorway, surveying the scene, and I feel the heat of his gaze settle on me first. Approval. My body hums with it.

The girl is crying, her sobs raw and uneven. She turns her head, blinking against the dim light. Hope flickers in her face at the sight of him, something desperate and foolish.

"Mmmph--mm!" Her voice is a pathetic, garbled thing, choked by the gag. She shakes her head wildly, trying to force sound through the gaps.

Master does not acknowledge her. He moves past her struggling form, past the pathetic way she pulls at the straps, her eyes wild and pleading. He comes to me, towering above where I kneel.

My breath catches as he reaches down, brushing his fingers through my hair. A reward.

The girl whimpers, twisting again in her bonds. "Mmmph!" She is growing frantic now, her body bucking in futile resistance.

Master sighs, finally shifting his gaze to her. "They always beg."

She nods rapidly, thinking she has found a thread of humanity in him. "Mmm--mm!"

"And yet," he continues, running his fingers idly along the curve of my jaw, "they never realize they are finally finding home."

She stares at him, the words sinking in. Then she starts screaming, the sound strangled and meaningless.

I smile.

The lesson has begun.

Master steps closer to the bed, observing her without expression. He reaches down, taking the edge of her dress between two fingers, considering. A flicker of disapproval crosses his face.

I shift, eager, waiting for his next instruction. The new girl thrashes, her body bucking against the mattress, muffled sobs tearing through the gag. She is not ready. Not yet.

Master sighs, almost bored. He looks at me. "Remove it."

I nod, crawling forward. The girl shrinks away, shaking her head, but there is nowhere to go.

Her old self will be gone soon.

The shears are waiting in their holster on the headboard, and I carefully snip through her dress from her crotch up between her heaving breasts. I clip the shoulder straps, and then each side of her lacy underwear at the hips. She didn't need to fear the safety scissors, but her body froze as I worked. I let my fingers drift across her soft, shiny skin. She's sweating already. I return to my knees. Waiting.

Master bunches the cloth in his hands and yanks away the trappings of her life outside. Her screaming has given way to muffled, fearful babbling. She is already becoming something new, but she doesn't know yet what. Master touches her body, squeezing and tweaking. I am not jealous. Master loves me, I am a part of him. Her fear is our reward for the work we do in reshaping her. The pleasure we take in that fear is his, and he shares it only with me.

He squeezes her tits cruelly now, and she screams for him. He drags his fingernails roughly along the skin of her belly and sides, marking her with parallel trails of pink skin. He gathers saliva in his mouth and spits it into her face, then rubs it over her lips, cheeks and eyes. Stray hair sticks to her face. She is quiet now, as he steps away. "Get her ready."

I smile. I can barely contain my excitement. Master likes that I'm good at this, and I love Master. I start at her feet, kissing, licking, stroking my way up her legs. Her muffled protesting turns back to a scream suddenly. Master has returned with his flogger.

I remember knowing hope, worrying that torment would never end. Giving up control filled me with purpose and satisfaction, and pain was my teacher. Master was the teacher. The flat, slapping sound of the flogger across her tits, her belly, her thighs are amplified by the cinderblock walls, her screams and pleading heard by no-one. I could see Master's cock hardening in his pants, filling me with joy. Its stiffness and its wants are my purpose, just as her independence and sense of self are his; desires to be slaked through diligence and effort. I arched my back as I kissed her inner thigh, presenting my pussy as eagerly as I could. I know Master is boiling with lust by now, and I crave his release.

I see Master toss the flogger over the headboard, and unfasten his top button as makes his way behind me. My stomach flutters, I know he will fuck me now. I hear the girl beneath me sigh with relief. I worry that her training has been disrupted by my teasing of Master. I move up her body quickly, positioning my ass as high as I can so Master can use me, and bite her tit hard just as Master starts wetting the tip of his cock on my waiting lips. I moan slightly and pause as I feel Master's cock squeezing into me. The pleasure of fulfilling my purpose and my body's needs is almost too much, but I cannot forgo the training. I perch my weight on one arm and start slapping her tits, the tender skin under her arms, her face. She looks aghast at me, confused and reeling.

Master withdraws from me, and I know what's expected of me. I open my mouth wide, my tongue hanging out, just above her face. Master positions himself in front of me and immediately put his cock in my mouth. The girl beneath us goes silent, I feel her body stiffen with fear and stress. Master fucks my face steadily, his hands wrapped in my hair. As always my body screams to recoil from the intrusion into the back of my throat, but my body must serve Master, and I stay motionless for him. I feel my drool gathering around my tongue and dripping along my chin. Instinctively I know my Master would like it, so I pull back from his member and lean down to his captive and let my drool drip into her eyes, onto her cheeks. I urge it out with my tongue and rub it into her skin. I kiss her lips, still wrapped around the gag, passionately. I want her. To be one of us. To feel the freedom and joy I feel. I want her so much.

I look at Master, who is looking down at me with lust and pride. I practically vibrate with his approval, and open my mouth for him again. He does not accept.

"Make her cum." He says, stepping out of his pants and climbing over the headboard to squat over her head. I move down again to start softly kissing and teasing her cunt. Girls don't want to cum when they're starting out here. They think the orgasm is theirs as part of their body. She will learn that it isn't. It is Master's and I will give it to him. Master is pressing his cock on the girl's face with his hand, and fucking the gap between while he watches me. It's exhilarating.

I feel her body responding to my teasing, and match my rhythm to it, now sucking and flicking her clit with my tongue. I slip two fingers into her and massage her g-spot. Soon, when Master sees fit, he will let me use her too. I imagine myself astride her face, unable to stop me, and my pussy aches.

I think she is ready for the wand, so I pull it from its holster at the foot of the bed and set it low. Master abandons her spit-covered face and takes his place behind me again. I wait until Master's cock slides into me to lay the bulbous vibrating wand's head against her pussy. She lets out an involuntary moan, her eyes going wide and locked to the ceiling. I moan with her, soon sisters in servitude. I know the panic I see setting in, in her face and body. She's realizing she can't stop this.

"You can cum, bunny." comes the voice of Master. I am permitted to cum when I like, but his permissions still makes me purr. I give in to the waves of pleasure, the tightness of my pussy around his cock pumping in and out of me. I see Master's new pet losing control, shuddering into her own orgasm, sending me over the edge. I slap her already-red tits as waves of pleasure wash over us, and then her face once. The pet cries now. Not the sobs of someone who hopes for freedom, or to get sympathy. She cries for herself, quiet, private, eyes closed.

Master circles the bed and reaches under her to release the gag. It comes out of her mouth slick, leaving an angry red imprint of the straps along her cheeks. She works her jaw open and closed, saying nothing, and swallows. Master positions himself above her, holding the sides of her head. "Open." Comes the command, imperious. I ready myself to slap and pinch compliance into her, but she obeys meekly, sucking the best she can. I touch Master's back gently as his body convulses slightly. I know he is close, so I position myself close to her head. She rebels slightly as he cums, trying to avoid the little jets of seed into her mouth, but Master is strong. When his cock comes out of her mouth, I clamp a hand over her mouth and nose to wait. She swallows, her eyes looking at me in a mix between terror and surrender.

Master releases the straps on her legs and ankles and she lay there, quietly weeping. Escaped semen, spit and tears gather on her face, red with exertion. Her body bears the marks of hard use as she curls her legs up to her chest, then relaxes them.

Master gets a rag to wipe my face off with, and I think I see a hint of a smile. I beam a smile back at him as he cleans around my mouth. "Dinner?" He asks, approval in his voice, and I nod happily. I perch my butt on the headboard, with my feet on either side of the new pet's head. I can feel her looking up at me, but I don't care. I just want to watch Master. I love Master.