Fighting made everything harder, so I stopped.
When Jack next showed up at my house, I was absolutely obedient. He still fed me the weed cookies, but it was my resolve to stop fighting that truly made it easier. I succeeded most of the time. He never realized that whenever I looked at him, my eyes unfocused
just
enough to blur him out. Deep down, I knew it was him, but it was less complicated to pretend.
Jack was true to his word. The less I fought, the more time he spent making my body shudder in ways I'd never thought it could. He seemed confused and delighted by my compliance, though frustrated by my silence. I think he expected that I'd start warming to him, and while I clearly didn't hate his cock, I still hated the person it was attached to.
A few weeks passed of my new life, and I grew used to it, somehow. I learned how to move my body to that felt good for me, and the things that would light up Jack's smile and proclaim I was a good girl. Anything to restrict the mind-games to a minimum, and quell the threats when I protested. He seemed content enough to keep me constantly stained with his cum.
He recorded a lot, with cameras hidden in the moments I was out of the room. Sometimes streaming from the webcam. As his confidence in my compliance increased, so did his boldness with filming, and thus the bars of my cage grew thicker.
The weed, too, was a constant, and the threat to phase it out never materialized. Although I'd learned how to placate him when he insisted on the distressingly sober Tuesday night drives, I believe he preferred how the marijuana would break down whatever reservations I held and allow me to let go in a way I couldn't otherwise. Those sober nights he would always promise that I'd soon be more than willing, with a confidence that made me shudder.
When I went to the local clinic and had an implant inserted, I almost cried with relief. At least I was safe from
that
unwanted outcome.
Jack sent a message one Wednesday, telling me he'd be at my house at precisely five in the afternoon the following day. This time, though, I was to bring what I needed to stay for Thursday and Friday night, and he'd drop me at home on Saturday morning. When I protested, he reminded me again of the hours and hours worth of videos he had, and emailed screenshot. Jack's face wasn't visible, but mine was. The camera had been side-on, and my hand was between my legs as I rode him.
I agreed to his request, or commands as I saw them, and sighed. And as much as I wished time would slow down, I found myself climbing into Jack's van sooner than I wanted.
My eyes widened when we pulled up to a huge modern structure, far back into the woods in the rich part of town, and I turned to him with an incredulous stare. "
This
is your house?"
"What did you expect?"
"A doomsday bunker?"
Fortunately, Jack laughed. "My family is wealthy. I'm the only grandchild."
"So the 'local IT guy' thing was a lie?"
"My family owns a bunch of IT-related businesses, and I'm good with computers. Technically, it wasn't a lie," he said. "And if you start liking me now that you know I have some money, I'll be very disappointed in you, Mel. Though I'll still take it."
"Fat chance," I murmured under my breath as I got out of the van, my boots crunching on the gravel. We walked up the stairs to the massive door and he let me inside. He pressed a few buttons near the entryway, and the entire house sprang to life, lighting up an interior that wouldn't have looked out of place in a magazine. But, like a magazine, it was empty, soulless. Stark.
"This way," he said, leading me down a long hallway. He showed me into his bedroom, ultra modern in grays and whites, and told me to have a shower and that there was a bathrobe in there for me. And to come down the hall toward the music when I was done.
Under other circumstances, I would have enjoyed his bathroom. He had the normal overhead shower, but I quickly discovered the hidden nozzles in the walls that sprayed water from the sides. The bottles of body wash and shampoo were all labels I'd never seen in the supermarket, and they smelled... expensive.
As I stood there in the steamy water, I probed my mind. Nothing had changed. HIs big fancy house, knowing he had money... I didn't care. It made no difference. I still did
not
want to be there. That was a relief in a way, and I welcomed the familiar ripple of dread that filled my stomach as I stepped out and wrapped myself up in the velvety bathrobe I'd found folded neatly on the vanity.
When I returned to the hallway, the tune that strained faintly from deeper inside the house wasn't what I expected. The gentle droning notes and slow, tinkling melody of relaxation music drifted down the hall, an oddly soothing contrast to the cold, clinical starkness of Jack's home. It felt misplaced, like a delicate thread of warmth trying to weave its way into an unwelcoming void. I found the right door easily enough, and my jaw dropped when I walked inside.
It seemed to be a solarium of sorts. There were plenty of plants, a lot of vines over the window, dappling the setting sunlight through the drawn shades. The red drapes turned the light crimson and bloody, at odds with the temperature controlled air, and the bubbling aromatherapy diffuser drifting out clouds of scent. In the center of the space was a low day-bed, draped with dark fabric. And throughout the room, strummed the relaxing music that would be more suited to a hippie crystal shop.
I frowned, confused. Maybe Jack wanted to get into Tantric Sex? I turned to him and raised my eyebrow. "What's going on?"
"We're trying something different today baby," said Jack. "I know you've been struggling a little on the sober nights, and that's fine. And while I don't mind giving you the weed, I figured working in some more sober activities would help."
He pushed the robe off my shoulders and let it fall, leading me to the daybed. I lay on my belly, my arms by my sides, and a small pillow under my cheek. Soon after, Jack drizzled warm oil down my back before straddling my legs and pushing his thumbs into the muscles along my spine.
A low groan escaped me when he made it up to the knots between my shoulder blades., and I let my eyes slip shut. "So, this is your grand plan? Pampering me into liking you?"
"It's part of it," he admitted with a slight chuckle as he poured more oil over my skin. "Right now though, all you have to do is relax." He worked his way up and down my back, and I didn't bother trying to suppress my groan as the tension in my body flowed away. "You enjoying this baby? I took some classes a few years ago. Seems like I haven't lost my touch."
"Just this once, I will freely admit that I feel incredible. If you'd make me your secret massage pet instead, I'd be much happier," I said, relieved when he laughed.
"Lucky for you, I do actually plan on making this a regular occurrence. I also have a treat. I'm gonna play a relaxation audio track for you. Follow along with it as I go," he said. "It's kind of like a meditation thing, but it'll help make you feel relaxed and sexy. OK?"
"Yeah, whatever. So long as we keep doing this instead of the other stuff, I'm good."
Jack snorted. "I'm gonna put a tiny bit of weed oil on your clit first. It's a little weaker than usual, but it won't get your head stoned, it's to get you going a little for later. But the spa day part isn't over, OK?"
"OK," I breathed dreamily as he rolled me over. At that moment, I didn't really care what was happening. All my muscles felt loose, liquid, and it was such a nice change from the usual activities, I was loath to complain.
I held my pussy open for him as he brought out a tiny bottle of oil, jumping a little as he made sure the entire sensitive bud was covered, grinning as he swiped the excess over my inner lips. He rolled me back on to my tummy and draped my arm up close to my head, saying he needed to see my hands so he'd know I was still awake, and I'd understand when the track started. I didn't care, because Jack began kneading my blissed-out muscles again shortly afterward.
"There you go, baby. I'll start the recording now. You just bliss out and enjoy," he said, and fell silent as an unfamiliar voice filled the space. Deep, gravelly, almost monotone, telling me to relax. To
consciously relax
every body part from the top of my head, down to my toes. It counted down from one hundred, explaining and reinforcing all the way down that when we reached one, I would be completely relaxed, and it was OK to "
just let your mind wander, knowing you are completely safe, so relaxed that your eyelids won't open because they're simply too heavy. And all your limbs are so loose and feel so good. It's like they're glued down, and even if you were to try to move, it would be impossible because your body and mind are just so relaxed and open..."
The voice was mesmerizing, hypnotic. Addictive. If only all my time with Jack could be so easy. His touch seemed to become lighter as the mysterious voice continued.
"Now I'm going to teach you a word, one that will let you return to this dreamy, relaxed place whenever you want. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
My hand jerked, and I sighed in contentment. Jack was working lightly on my lower back, and the music seemed to lift me up into the air and soar. Almost like I was high. It felt so...
"
Very good. It's a lovely word... Diaphanous. It means ethereal, light, delicate... floaty. The way you can let yourself feel like you do right now. Like your mind has become a tiny speck of light, floating high in the clouds...
The voice seemed to weave in and out of my consciousness, explaining how easy it was to feel good and
"so from now on, whenever you hear the word 'diaphanous,' you'll come back to this place, feeling so nice and relaxed, so warm and ready. Whenever you become diaphanous, you can just let that feeling wash over you, and it will become easier whenever you do it, and every time you do that dreamy feeling will just get deeper and stronger. Deeper and stronger. Feeling so warm and good and floaty..."
