The Master

I felt drained and filled at the same time; drained of energy and filled with cum. My second encounter with my rapist had been just as viscerally sexual as the first, and the same cauldron of confusing emotions bubbled away inside of me. The invasion of my pussy, the non-consensual orgasm, my inexplicable decision to grab him by the balls and kiss him.

Of course, those were the least of the issues I was struggling with. I had ventured out of my room in search of answers and ended up with more questions. What did he mean he'd brought me here to "understand the female completely"? Who were the other two women who'd watched him rape me in silent awe? Just how big was his harem?

All those questions and more churned inside my mind alongside the obvious ones: "where am I?" and "How do I get out of here?"

From the carpet in front of the fireplace where I had been unceremoniously dumped, the younger woman tenderly escorted me away. She was butt-naked and unashamed of the fact, but even with my dress intact I felt exposed. I tried to ignore the sensation of leftover cum dribbling out of my panty-less pussy, but it was impossible to ignore another sensation down there: my pussy felt empty, as if something were missing.

The younger woman led me to another bedroom, larger than the one I'd woken up in, but with identical decor and lighting. It was the same luxury sex dungeon design, but with double the floor space. The design of this place was just as creepy to me as before, but I was too drained to care. I needed to lie down and rest.

"You must be starving," the young woman said as she laid me down on the bed, "just rest here and I'll get you something to eat."

I curled up into a ball as the younger woman disappeared somewhere. Before long, she was back carrying a tray with sandwiches and a plastic bottle of energy juice. I sat up in the bed as she put it down and I helped myself to the meal offered. I hadn't realized how famished I was until now, and I devoured everything on offer, washing down with the juice.

"You eat like you're pregnant," she remarked.

I flinched at her choice of words. Given the circumstances, I'd rather avoid that subject.

"I'm Ashley, by the way," she said, extending a hand.

"Chloe," I replied, shaking her hand out of courtesy.

"Brooke's at least a week overdue," Ashley explained, "that's why he upped and left you like that, it's nothing personal. He'll stay with her all the way through the birth and afterwards, so it's just you and me for a while."

She lay down on the bed beside me, and I pushed the tray to one side to lie down and face her. I didn't totally trust Ashley, how could I after she'd watched me being raped and started touching herself whilst it was happening? But at the same time, it was reassuring to talk to another woman.

Ashley had short brown hair with blonde highlights and a playful grin on her face. Seeing her naked body up close, I could also see the jeweled piercing in her navel and between her legs.

"How old are you, exactly?" I asked her.

Ashley looked to be in her early twenties, and yet I couldn't help but notice how unusually wide her hips and well developed her breasts were. Either she was older than she looked, or she'd given birth, or maybe both.

"I'm 20 years old," she replied, "my body looks older because of the two babies I've had."

Breeding seemed to be a theme around this place.

"Are those the only questions you've got?"

I had countless other questions, but if she was really under my rapist's thumb, I had to doubt whether she'd answer them truthfully. However, there was no harm in asking.

"Who is that guy, where are we, and why am I here?" I demanded a little more forcefully than I meant.

"We don't know his real name, we just call him 'master', he likes that," Ashley answered, unfazed by my tone, "as for where we are, I don't know exactly. But I do know it's a long way from civilization. So, if you find an escape hatch somewhere, I'd think twice about making a run for it."

"And the 'why' part?"

Ashley's grin faded a little, and she looked down at the sheets, as though it were difficult to express in words.

"Well," she said at length, "we're not just fuck-toys, I can tell you that much. He has all these philosophical theories on sex and sexuality, and he brought us here to test them out. Weird, I know, but the luxury more than makes up for it."

I was torn between wanting to know more and wanting to remain blissfully ignorant, but Ashley kept going.

"He's been seeking out sexually independent women to see if it's possible to control them," Ashley explained, "or 'tame' them is the word he prefers."

"So, kidnap, rape, and forced breeding are his way of 'taming' independent women," I said with a note of disgust.

"There's a lot more to it than that," Ashley answered, "but the sex has to be all natural and primal, right down to pregnancy and birth. It's part of testing out his theories. It's surprisingly deep stuff."

I wasn't all that convinced. It sounded like an elaborate justification for being a kidnapper and rapist. Being kept as any kind of prisoner, let alone a sex slave or a breeding slave, was downright terrifying to me.

"Nice move with the ball grabbing, by the way," Ashley said approvingly, "he liked that."

"I was seriously tempted to squeeze," I said with a note of menace.

"For your own sake, I'm glad you didn't," Ashley replied, "But you're the kind of woman he likes to play around with."

Finding out that I was his type didn't really encourage me all that much. But now that I was getting plausible answers to my questions, I wanted to know more. We spent the next hour or so talking, with Ashley divulging an awful lot more than I thought she would.

The 'master' was fabulously wealthy -- pretty obvious -- but he was little known outside of the billionaire circles. The sources of his wealth were even more obscure, and he liked to keep it that way. He also had a fascination with female sexuality and sexual independence and the male insecurity that surrounded it, and he liked to 'study' it through seducing or forcing himself upon women when the opportunity arose.

And he never used restraints, weapons, violence, or any kind of threat against his targets. He wanted to see exactly how much a woman would resist him if given the full chance to do so. The more willingly they submitted, the 'tamer' they were. That I had dared to grab him by the balls was a sign of my sexual independence and defiance even in the face of male power.

Ashley herself had been a spoiled high school slut (her words) when the master had taken her away after graduation. She didn't know how he had arranged her disappearance, or if her parents might have been glad to be rid of their bratty child, but the experience of birthing two of her captor's children had matured her, apparently.

Ashley had been 'tamed' early on in her captivity and falling pregnant had led her to develop Stockholm Syndrome (also her words). From this, the master had concluded that although teenage sluttiness necessarily arose from sexual independence, the two were not the same thing...apparently.

I suddenly felt tired. The exhausting sex and a full stomach were making me sleepy again. Plus, if my rapist was going to be spending the next 12 hours or more with Brooke, his other sexual plaything, whilst she was in labor, it would be nice to get some more sleep without fear of being ambushed in the night.

I didn't see any harm in sharing a bed with another woman, so whilst she took the tray away, I unzipped the dress and hung it up before finding my way to the bathroom and taking a quick shower. Once I had dried myself off, I climbed into bed naked.

***

My sleep was a lot more fitful this time, mainly because of the dream that accompanied it.

In my sleep, I dreamt that I was on my back in a dark chamber whilst the master raped me, a triumphant grin smeared across his face. His naked body and the naked sexual aggression he inflicted on my pussy were frightening, and yet strangely alluring. It was like being raped by an incubus demon: terrifying to my mind, yet irresistible to my body. This particular nightmare was making me wet.

Above all, the nightmare was as vivid as the real thing. His chiseled and rippling muscles heaved and flexed as he thrust his cock into me. His hips rocked back and forth with a steady rhythm and domineering force, making me squeal as his penis rammed home. My own hands were resting either side of my head on soft, cloud-like pillows, and yet I couldn't move them.

I was absolutely helpless as the master raped me. His pubic bone rubbed mercilessly against my clit with each stroke, and the forcefulness and manliness of his fucking caused me to moan shamelessly in pleasure. I couldn't pinch myself to wake up from this dream, and part of me didn't want to.

I also realized why I couldn't move my arms: they were being held down by Ashley and Brooke, the other two captives-turned-accomplices. They were completely naked, grinning down at me excitedly as they restrained my wrists to some imaginary floor.

Most creepy of all, their bellies were swollen. They were each heavily pregnant with our rapist's children, no doubt through having been raped by him themselves. Somewhere in the back of my dreaming mind, I remembered that Ashley wasn't visibly pregnant, and Brooke was currently in labor. But the symbolism of the dream was clear.

The nightmare version of my rapist was thrusting furiously. His hands moved from my breasts to my throat, and his body came down until his chest was pressed against mine, pinning me in place with his overpowering, masculine weight. Each thrust made me yelp and squeal as he rammed home his power over me, and all I could do was lie there helplessly.

Even though it was a dream, I could somehow feel the contours of his cock inside me, stretching the walls of my pussy with each inward stroke. My cunt was getting wetter and wetter as the rape progressed, easing the passage of his penis as he threatened to make me as pregnant as his other two sex slaves.

And I liked it. The pleasure was only in my dreams, but it was amazing. It wasn't in the form of waves either, it was a constant bubble of emotion down in my pussy, a latent orgasm steadily growing each time he thrust into me. With each stroke it spread into my belly and up through the rest of my body, and I was frightened to wonder if I might actually want this in real life.

My wrists were still being pinned down by the dream versions of Ashley and Brooke, but I hooked my legs behind the master's thighs, locking him in place as my shameless moans and his bestial snarls reached an intense crescendo of ecstasy.

He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes.

"I'm going to impregnate you," my rapist hissed lustfully, "and then I'll have finally made you tame."

At that point, my rapist's dream avatar came inside me. His ejaculations felt like liquid pleasure inside of me, shooting into me like a sticky geyser. I could feel my vagina contracting rhythmically as it massaged my rapist's penis, coaxing his seed out of him and into my womb. I held my rapist close, and he held me closer still, determined to 'tame' me with his tool.

Then the dream took a more nightmarish turn.

His cock was still pumping cum into me, filling me up without stopping. I became horrified by what he was doing to my body, and this time I tried to struggle free as my belly began to literally swell with his seed. But I couldn't struggle free, not with his other two sex slaves trapping me, forcing me to lie there and take it.

All three of them were staring down at me with smiles on their faces, delighting in my distress as I became more and more pregnant with each passing second. Ashley and Brooke were grinning maniacally, positively ecstatic that I would be as swollen with the master's child as they were. The master himself grinned like a beast about to devour his prey, and all I could do was lie there as he bred me.

Then suddenly the scene changed. I was on a bed like the one where I had first woken up, but it was surrounded with candles. It felt like I was in some kind of sacrificial chamber, and the space beyond the candles was pitch black. I looked down and saw that my naked belly was nine months swollen. The master had impregnated me.

Before I could gasp in shock, a hand was clamped over my mouth and my arms were restrained by an invisible force once again. The master was behind me, holding me still as Ashley and Brooke, garbed in cultist lingerie which showed off their own swollen bellies, took my ankles and knees, and forced open my legs.

Then I began to feel the contractions.

I knew, of course, that all of this was only a nightmare, that it wasn't really happening. But even in this dream state the contractions felt real enough. Waves of intense pain rippled through my belly down to my crotch. I could feel the baby -- the master's baby -- moving inside me, eager to get out of my belly.

My rapist and master placed his hands over my breasts, leaving my arms restrained by the imaginary force in my dream. My back rested against his chest, and I lay with my legs forced apart, ready to squeeze his baby into the world. The sheer powerlessness of my position made my dream a nightmare, and the contractions I felt in my belly added to my sense of powerlessness.

The master was whispering something into my ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but it kept to the rhythm of my contractions, slowly softening my will. The dream versions of Ashley and Brooke held my legs still, massaging them as I breathed and pushed.

The contractions were getting stronger now, like rippling waves of pain and pleasure mixed together as the baby was steadily pushed down into my birth canal towards the world. The master continued to whisper hypnotically in my ear, his inaudible words crawling through my brain like little spiders, almost as if he were commanding my body to push.

The life in my belly moved all the way down into my birth canal, and I could feel the baby's head breaching. The two women restraining my legs prepared to catch the baby as the labor pains reached an excruciating climax. As I gave one final push, I screamed.

***

I plunged back into the waking world with a sound half-way between a frightened gasp and an orgasmic moan. I sat there hyperventilating in the dark for several long minutes, unable to fully believe the nightmare I'd just had. Was it even a nightmare?

I was also terrified that the master might be lurking in the shadows, hoping to satisfy his urges at my expense again. But nothing happened, and I didn't hear or feel anyone approaching. I felt hugely relieved and lay back down again, trying to return to sleep.

"Sounds like someone had fun in their sleep," Ashley's sleepy voice said.

A hand came to rest on my stomach, and I froze up until I realized that the hand was female. This was Ashley's bed after all, and she was probably naked, too. I didn't mind her resting her hand on my belly.

I minded a little when her hand migrated northwards and grabbed a handful of my breasts, and I wriggled away from her in response.

"Your rack's nicer than mine was before I got pregnant," Ashley murmured approvingly.

"You know it's rude to feel people up, don't you?" I whispered back, annoyed.

"Well, we're both naked," Ashley replied, sliding first a leg and then her entire body across mine, "also, this is technically my bed, and I don't see anything wrong with sharing some skin with another girl."

She was now resting entirely on top of me, perched like a cat on my stomach. I was very much aware of the fact that her crotch was right up close to mine. Despite what had happened to me in the last 24 hours, my sexual orientation remained "dick", and I'd never had any serious attraction to other women.

But strangely, it didn't feel as awkward as it ought to. The last skin-to-skin contact I'd had had been with my male rapist. Feeling a female belly resting against my own was somehow comforting, even though her jeweled navel piercing was digging into my stomach a little.

"Why the piercings?" I asked.

"He insisted that Brooke and I get them done soon after we arrived," Ashley explained, "You'll be made to get them too, by the way."

"So, I can be marked in the flesh?" I said with disdain.

"Maybe," Ashley answered thoughtfully, "or maybe it's symbolic of him owning our wombs and pussies. Or they could be tracking devices to stop us running away. Or it could just be another kink of his."

The psychological side of this imprisonment was going to get to me if I wasn't careful.

"I won't try to convince you I'm not crazy," Ashley said as she started to grind her crotch against mine, "but you're going to be here a while. So, it'd be nice if we can hit it off."

I could feel her clit piercing rubbing against my own clit, producing little wavelets of pleasure in my pussy. I spread my legs a little in response, still unsure if I should let this girl grind on me till I orgasmed or toss her off.

I let her grind for now. Her pussy was as bald as mine, and being humped so gently like this was making me wet. It was certainly less threatening or intrusive than a penis. It was also a pretty new experience for me.

Then Ashley kissed me. I squirmed in surprise and finally tossed her off.

"You don't do girls, then?" Ashley asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"I don't like being humped against my will," I replied, "whether it's a man or a woman doing the humping."

"Ok then, I won't force you to do anything," Ashley said obligingly, then changed the subject, "it's been more than a couple of hours. Brooke might be about to give birth."

"Congratulations to her, I guess," I said a little half-heartedly.

"You wanna go see her?" Ashley suggested.

"Are we allowed?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to.

"Of course we are," Ashley replied, getting out of the bed, "I'll take you there."