Young woman gets her first enslavement tattoo
WhoreMouse felt like her name: a cross between a wanton whore and a scared little mouse. She was just standing there in full public view of strangers and her parents, letting her gross old neighbor Mr. Campbell molest her bare tits with his contagious rashy hands. She hated it, but was also letting it happen. Nobody had even told her she had to do this. He was at least three times her age. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words just wouldn't come out. She wanted to back away, but it didn't feel right. It felt like it wasn't her place to say 'no'.
Mr. Campbell licked his lips, stuck out his tongue, and pulled her in by her bare tits for a tongue kiss.
Time seemed to slow. WhoreMouse almost gagged at seeing his splotchy bulbous tongue. So gross. Was she really about to let that in her mouth? He was treating her like she was already a slave. But she was only 18, too young to enslave. Was nobody going to say anything about this? She turned her head, trying to buy time. He licked and slobbered all over the side of her head as she glanced around to her family for help.
Brian, her fiancé, looked on with lust in his eyes. Did he like this? Did he think she liked this? Was he right?
Her father looked concerned, like he wanted to do something, except he was too busy reclined in a fucking chair, balls deep the neighbor lady he'd traded his wife for.
WhoreMouse's mother PussyCunt knelt on the ground, broken, her body sticky with a thin coating of lube and Mr. Campbell's cum, still sucking his limp diseased cock.
Everyone WhoreMouse loved and trusted was just letting this happen. Mr. Campbell began sucking on her ear. She shuddered with revulsion as he tried to stick his tongue deep into her ear canal. Why didn't she just back away? Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she was a slave already, and just didn't realize it. With a final shiver of disgust, she opened her mouth and began turning to let his tentacle of a tongue in her mouth and kiss him back.
Damian intervened, grabbing Mr. Campbell roughly by the face. "That's enough. I don't recall saying you could touch her," he said. The cold command of a master was fully back in his voice, "It is customary, is it not Mr. Campbell, to ask before touching another man's things?"
"May I," Mr. Campbell ambiguously asked, though lips pinched in Damian's fingers.
"No. You're done now. Go back to your table."
Mr. Campbell looked WhoreMouse up and down, the girl next door he'd watched for years. Now she was within reach, naked, sweating. He'd dreamt of this. Her tits were so soft. Her cunt was right there, glistening wet. Would he ever get another chance like this? He grabbed her by the pussy, trying to shove his diseased fingers inside.
But then there was no pussy. There was no anything. The world was spinning. He couldn't remember where he was. Oh. He was on the ground. Blood poured from his broken nose, pooling by his face. Everything hurt. Through unfocused eyes he looked up and saw Damian, PussyCunt, and WhoreMouse above him. Right, he was at the Pure Surrender club. How had he gotten on the floor?
Damian cleaned his bloody knuckles with a handkerchief as he talked to club security. They had seen it too, but he confirmed that Mr. Campbell had broken the law and club rules: sexually assaulting a free woman, a vip guest no less, with infected hands and probably without a raping license. They called for law enforcement and escorted/carried Mr. Campbell out of the club. One of them profusely apologized to WhoreMouse on behalf of the club, and offered her a voucher for a free future access to the club and substantial complimentary services.
WhoreMouse could barely pay attention to what they were saying. Her hands trembled as she took the voucher. She had butterflies in her stomach. Damian had just referred to her as his possession, and then punched Mr. Campbell's lights out over it. It was the hottest thing anyone had ever done for her. Her heart was pounding. She'd always thought Damian was pretty, but now she couldn't look away. He was naked. His shoulder muscles were so...shouldery. And the muscles below his belly made that V shape she liked so much. And he'd just broken a man's nose for her!
Minutes ago WhoreMouse had just finished having the greatest cum of her life, over and over again, from the man she loved: the man she was soon to marry. But somehow she was already horny again, as bad as ever, for Damian.
The voucher listed "reforging jewelry" as one of the complimentary services she could access. Dirty thoughts came unbidden to her mind. She thought about her engagement ring, her favorite possession, that beautiful symbol of Brian's love. She imagined having it melted down, mixed with more metal and reforged into a chain engagement collar instead. The key to Brian's cock lock could be melted down and reforged as well, turned into a tiny eternity lock encrusted with the jewel from the ring. She imagined herself kneeling for Damian, while Brian presented the collar and lock with no key on a little silk pillow. Her master would fasten the symbol of her new engagement around her throat. Brian would have the honor of squeezing shut the tiny permanent lock. Oh no. Was she falling in love? With Damian? She couldn't do that.
Damian continued to take charge. He explained that WhoreMouse would need slave rash prevention cream pretty much all over her body now, particularly in her ear, on her breasts, and in her vagina. Damian handed the bottle of cream to Robert, who was still fucking CherryPie. He ordered WhoreMouse to present her body to her father for a thorough creaming.
Robert had a vague thought that perhaps he shouldn't massage cream into his daughter's tits and sopping wet cunt while actively having sex. But then WhoreMouse presented for him without the slightest hesitation. She climbed up on the table, laid back, and spread her legs wide open. It looked just like she was offering him her virginity. At the same moment CherryPie kissed him, trembling in his arms and around his cock with another small orgasm. Did she like the idea? Did she just cum to the suggestion of him paying attention to his daughter instead of her while they fucked? Regardless, he couldn't think a single reason why he shouldn't 'cream' WhoreMouse now.
Damian went to make arrangements with the blacksmith. It was time to brand CherryPie. The big roaring fire was too far away, so the smith started up a portable electric forge.
