The Wild Wicked West Prologue

The Wild, Wicked West

A Story of Stolen Brides and Modern Slavery

Foreword:

This is not a nice story. On the scale of reluctance to non-consent, this is way on the non-con side of things. But, this is imaginary. Fantasy born of a twisted imagination. In no way do I condone or support this kind of violence against women. In real life, kink should be explored with mutual consent, always.

Don't let the slow build or lack of explicit sexual content in this prologue fool you. There will be a lot of penetrative sex--oral, vaginal, and anal--and it will be against the explicit will of the female participant. There will be other terrible things that I haven't written yet so I can't warn you about specifically, but they may include other things done in a non-consensual capacity, like mental and physical conditioning, body modifications, fisting, use of machinery, restraints and bondage, psychosis, physical abuse and violence, and more. I know people don't read or trust tags, so this is your fair warning.

If you don't like that kind of thing and you read this anyway, I'm gonna go ahead and assume that has more to do with you than with me.

Prologue

Baited

~ Shelby ~

Shelby sat down gingerly in her chair, gasping a little at sharp tug on her nipples and the odd sensations in her ass. What started as a twinge of pain quickly melted into something else. She felt the jolts of electricity under her skin, zinging around and pooling right between her legs. She was so wet, so needy, it took so much effort not to grind her swollen pussy into the padded chair under her. But she didn't, because she knew he wouldn't want her to touch herself without asking. Grinding counted.

She pulled the chat back up on her screen, biting her lip against the smile when she saw he'd messaged again.

MasterBait83: Tell me when it's in.

LonelyKitten11: Yes, Sir. I put it in. It felt so strange, it hurt a little, but I relaxed like you said and got it in.

MasterBait83: You used the small one, right? How does it feel?

LonelyKitten11: Yes, Sir, the small one. It feels weird, but good. It burns a little.

MasterBait83: I bet we can work you up to the bigger one in the set tonight.

LonelyKitten11: I would like to try.

MasterBait83: Even though it hurt?

Shelby's fingers hovered over the keys as she tried to figure out how to answer his question. When she saw he was typing again, she paused to let him speak.

MasterBait83: Are the clamps on, too? Do you like the pain, kitten?

Shelby breathed in slowly, taking stock of her body.

No one would ever know, even if they could somehow see into her second-floor apartment windows, that she had a plug in her ass and little nipple clamps adorning the tips of her round breasts. She'd put her pajamas back on after doing as he'd instructed, and sat at her computer with those invisible adornments that were making her wetter by the moment.

Did she like the pain? Yes and no. She didn't love the sensation of pain itself, she wasn't a masochist, which was something MasterBait83--Master, Sir, or informally, James--knew already. But at the same time, she did like this pain because of what it was designed to do.

The stinging bite on her nipples and the way the tight ring of her ass spasmed lightly around the unyielding plastic of the plug kept her attention on those areas of her body. It made her aware of herself; it was not ignorable. It was a foreign feeling, and the illicit thrill of using clamps and an anal plug for the first time in her tender 23 years... and knowing that she was doing it because he'd told her to only added to the excitement.

Her blood pounded, giving her clit its own frustrating little heartbeat. She needed some relief, some release.

LonelyKitten11: I think... I do like it. But because I like doing things for you. I like that you are making me test my limits. I want to please you.

MasterBait83: Good. The fact that you want to does please me. Are you excited for your trip?

LonelyKitten11: So excited! I'm already packed and everything. I can't wait to meet you. Thanks again for buying me that ticket.

MasterBait83: You're welcome. Wear this plug for an hour, then fuck your ass with it slowly and try to take the next size. I'd like you to wear that larger sized plug for your train ride, so work yourself up to wearing it for a few hours at a time.

Shelby felt herself blush. The thought of willingly sodomizing herself at his command, and then meeting the eyes of unaware strangers on the four-hour train ride to meet him at the end of the week... She was almost breathless with desire and her face heated already at the thought of having such a dirty secret in such a public place. She adjusted the clamps on her nipples, enjoying the additional bite of pain and pretending he'd urged her to do it.

LonelyKitten11: That's going to make the ride so uncomfortable.

MasterBait83: That's the point. All your holes will be mine and I want it to feel like a relief when I finally take them.

Shelby frowned a little at that. She didn't quite understand what he meant, but he was sometimes cryptic. He'd been in the lifestyle so long and he'd been so patient with her while they'd gotten to know each other over the past few weeks, explaining ideas and terms and listening to her fantasies without judgement. She could imagine the relief she'd feel once the plug came out, that was probably what he meant.

Her eyes drifted shut as she focused on the first part--all her holes would be his. It filled her with delicious, breathless kind of excitement. Being owned... having no say in how or where he fucked her... Even if it was just for the weekend, the thought of this pretend game where she got to temporarily become nothing more than his Kitten Slut was mind-bendingly arousing. She almost reached down to touch herself--her pussy felt so, so empty next to the sensation of fullness in her ass--but stopped herself.

LonelyKitten11: Can I cum tonight?

MasterBait83: No. Not until we meet.

Shelby's frown deepened. Well, that simply wasn't happening. She rocked her hips forward, nearly hissing as the soft texture of her flannel pajama bottoms brushed her engorged, sensitive clit.

MasterBait83: Remember--wear the plug for an hour, fuck yourself with it, go up a size. I have to go now. Everything that you do, everything that happens, remember that it's all for me. Be a good girl.

LonelyKitten11: I will. Good night then, Sir.

~ James ~

James watched through her webcam as his next acquisition moaned softly, her beautiful young face flushed with desire and arousal. He watched her tighten the clamps and whimper in response to the feeling. He watched her fingers trail downwards and disappear under the desk. He watched her throw her head back in ecstasy as her fingers found that sensitive nub between her legs.

His erection twitched in his pants, deflating slightly. She was not being a good girl--she didn't think she had to be. Sure, she had some clearly submissive traits, but this was still a game to her, one where she thought she got to make the rules. And, for now, she did. He couldn't push too hard while they communicated online or he'd push her away.

So, ultimately, she'd put in the plug because she wanted to, not because he'd told her. She used the nipple clamps how she wanted, not how he'd told her. She was touching herself when he'd expressly forbidden it.

He didn't like the process of breaking them in, of molding them into good sluts. He preferred they arrive in a state of fear and desperation to please him. He needed to become their savior in order to become their master. He preferred that if they felt any pleasure at all, it was as a reward for complete mental obedience.

Luckily, he had men in his employ who tamed wild horses--some really sick fucks who enjoyed what they did even more than they enjoyed their cut of the proceeds.

He grabbed his phone, watching with a detached kind of curiosity as she continued to masturbate. Her breath hitched and she moaned. Her arm jerked a little as she increased the speed with which she worked over her clit. She really was beautiful, and her wildness in passion made her blue eyes glow and her pale skin look luminous. Her long brown hair tangled in curls and fell around her face.

He sent a text to the chat and gave Theo all the details he needed to meet her at the train station. Theo looked enough like him in the pictures he'd sent her that she wouldn't be suspicious. He sent them all her photo, to much general approval, and made his intentions known.

He couldn't wait until she arrived at his door, thoroughly fucked and broken.

He'd reassemble her pieces into exactly what he wanted.

~ Shelby ~

Shelby shifted from foot to foot, a little nervous as she eyed the crowd that passed. It was a lot of cowboy hats and denim, which didn't surprise her in this rural area. The air smelled faintly of wet hay and manure from some faraway farm. This train stop was a small town in the flats of rural America--she could see the pointed spire of a church among the six buildings lined up that made main street.

But she didn't care to pay too much attention.

The plug was about an hour past very uncomfortable and she wished she'd thought to bring some cooling lube. The design was meant for better long-term comfort, with a handle that nestled between her cheeks easily instead of a rounded base, but the thickest part kept her anal opening from relaxing all the way. Her ass was officially on fire after all that time swaying and squirming in her seat to try to find a position that didn't press on it quite so much.

She shivered, remembering the pressure and brief flash of pain when she'd finally worked the thickest part of the plug into her ass. Her eyes had shot open, and the POP it made was almost a comically perfect onomatopoeia. She'd done some internet research and decided to add half an hour every day to work up to the full four hours so she didn't injure herself.

Her after-work routine all week had been to remove her clothes as soon as she walked through the door of her small apartment, bend herself over her bed, lube up her little hole, fuck herself with the smaller plug until she became a wet, squirming mess, and slide in the bigger plug while she rubbed her clit. After a nice, slowly built but intense orgasm, she'd go about her normal evening chores.

She'd folded laundry with the plug in, watched TV, cooked herself dinner. She hadn't had the guts to work out with it in, but she'd sent her Sir a naughty picture of it sticking out lewdly between her cheeks, as per his request, every night.

It was a muscle, he'd told her, same as any other. Muscles needed to be stretched. She was proud of herself--she'd made it to the end of additional time every day, never once tapping out. Even though her poor hole was always a little sore at first with the daily, self-inflicted abuse, it only took three days for the "bigger" plug to not feel so big. And she knew that with a diameter of only about an inch and a half, it was nowhere near the true thickness of a cock, but she liked knowing he was trying to prepare her for it. She'd started craving that feeling of fullness, like it was becoming part of her.

Now, she wondered how much longer it would stay in because she was going on hour six. Would he fuck her with it in? Would he fuck her ass tonight? Her pussy clenched with need. Her orgasm this morning while working in the plug felt like it barely took the edge off. She was a ball of excitement and anticipation. She was finally going to meet the man who knew about all her deepest, dirtiest desires--things she'd shared with no one else.

When she spotted James--Sir--in the crowd, she fired off a text to her friend Hannah and was met with a cheering "go get 'em girl" from the only person who knew where she was and why she'd gone. It felt safer if at least one person knew the truth about why she'd come.

James greeted her with a wide smile, his hat sitting low over his brow. She smiled back, angling her head up and shielding her eyes from the setting sun. He was tall--looming at least half a foot above her, which put him over 6'. His brown hair, tan skin marked with lines around his mouth and eyes, and generally sturdy build matched the image she had of him in her mind. He seemed a little older and thinner, though, and his nose was crooked like it had been broken. His face was slimmer, missing that strong jaw she'd imagined licking and nibbling and rubbing her cheek against.

Maybe the pictures he'd sent were a little outdated, a little generous with their angles. He was still handsome, and it made her stomach do a little flip when she thought of how much endurance he'd likely have. He was in his 40's, but in good shape from a physically demanding life on a ranch.

"Shelby," he said, full of confidence. "You're a pretty little thing, ain't ya."

His voice was deep and gravelly--the sound of it sent a little flutter of excitement down to her already hot and aching core. She liked it. She liked that he thought she was pretty. "James, I take it?"

"Master," he corrected with a cheeky little grin. He reached down and picked up her duffle from the ground, easily swinging it over his shoulder. She eyed his bulging bicep eagerly. "Shall we?"

He gestured over in the direction of his pickup truck, holding out his arm for her to go first. When she turned to walk, he placed his warm hand on her lower back and she nearly jumped.

"Relax," he urged, his tone low. He must have felt her tense up when he touched her.

She inhaled shakily and nodded, indicating she would try. "Thanks for picking me up."

"No problem."

The walked in silence for a few steps, and she glanced his way. He met her look with a brief smile that was all lips, no eyes.

Now that she was here, walking next to him, she realized she felt incredibly nervous. And, if she were honest with herself, a little let down. All those weeks of buildup, of feeling like chatting with him was easy... now she didn't know what to say. She'd expected him to take the lead, but he was proving to be more the strong/silent type as he escorted her to his vehicle.

Something about this felt off. But how much of that was due to her own expectations? After all, she'd spent the whole train ride fantasizing that he'd greet her with a hug or a kiss, that he'd call her Kitten, that they'd laugh and joke and be affectionate and it would be easy. She'd imagined that they'd have the same chemistry in person they'd had with screens between them.

Maybe it wasn't his fault that he wasn't living up to her expectations, but it was disappointing. Just as she was about to ask him to give her back her bag and give him the whole nice to meet you, I'm going to go, no hard feelings, he smiled at her again and asked gently, "You have a nice trip?"

She felt herself melting a little at the dimple that appeared on his right cheek. Okay, maybe he was just nervous, too. That was a bit of a turn off in the man she'd come to believe was full of self-assurance and confidence, but she could forgive the deeply human emotion.

She cleared her throat, tried licking her lips. "Could have been more... comfortable."

He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. "The truck's a nice smooth ride."

Huh. She'd expected him to make some sort of sly comment about the plug, but she hadn't seen a hint of recognition. Maybe he forgot he'd told her to do it. As they approached the truck, James tossed her bag into the truck bed and opened the passenger door for her. "I'm starving. What's the plan for dinner?" she asked as her stomach growled loudly. She settled carefully into her seat, wincing a little as the plug shifted deeper into her at the pressure from her sitting position.

He shut the door and hustled around to the driver's side. He started the car and pulled out of the train station parking lot, onto a road with zero traffic, even at 5PM on a week day. Rural area, indeed.

"So?" she prompted, bringing her hands into her lap after buckling in. She resisted the urge to wring them.

"No plan for dinner quite yet. You thirsty?" he asked, nodding down to a water bottle.

She nodded. It was hot. And dry. Must have been the elevation change. She grabbed the bottle, gulping some down, nearly making a face at the artificial fruit taste of the bubbly drink.

"So, what are you hungry for?" he asked, pulling onto a wide road that signs marked as an interstate.

"Oh... I'm not sure. Maybe a sandwich or something?"

He chuckled and she tilted her head at him, missing the joke. "Wrong answer," he said.

"I'm not picky, I don't really mind--"

"A good slut knows the answer to that question is 'cock.'"

Her heart kicked around in her chest, pumping faster in a mixture of arousal and fear. She felt her face heat in a blush and she looked down at her hands, not sure of what to say. He wasn't reaching for her, and he didn't look hard in his jeans so she didn't feel threatened, but her head was spinning. If he expected a blow job, it wasn't that clear. He'd always been so clear in his directions before.

"I'm sorry. Of course, I'm hungry for... um, for that. I just thought we could talk first. You said you booked a hotel room. Is it somewhere in town?" she tried again.

He sighed, and cut her a look. "I'm getting' a little sick of the questions, slut."

Shelby shrunk away, giving him a little frown. The first time he'd used the word, it could have been an endearment. But the warmth in his tone was gone, and it left her whole body feeling cold. She'd expected the nickname, sure, but she'd never imagined it would sound so... hateful. She'd always imagined James saying in a way that lifted her up and encouraged her to explore her femininity, not as something meant to tear her down. She didn't mind the degradation, when she could pretend that it wasn't really meant to degrade.

"I didn't know we were starting already..." she began slowly. She didn't feel ready. She'd assumed he would ease her into this, and let her set the pace. She wanted to submit to him when they both agreed it was time. Wasn't that what they'd always discussed?

"It started as soon as you stepped off that train."

He'd never indicated that would be the dynamic of this weekend. "Am I not allowed to ask questions?"

Silence stretched out from him and eventually she gave up on hearing a response.

This is wrong, a small voice urged in the back of her head.

She chewed on her lip, and looked furtively at the scenery flying by. They were outside the town limits, going 80 on a long straight road without another car in sight. Miles of nothingness stretched out on either side, broken with an occasional fence or house so far from the road it was barely a speck.

This was wrong. If they were staying in a hotel, why were they driving away from the town? Were there even hotels in this Podunk town?? Her stomach roiled and panic seized her around the throat. Her head felt weird as she turned to face him in her seat, like her brain was sloshing around.

Her tongue was thick in her mouth. "I think I've made a mistake..."

He laughed a little, and it was not a nice sound. "You sure did, slut."

"I want to go back," she said, hearing her words slur together and finishing in a whisper as her eyelids started drooping. Wait, what was going on? Why was she so sleepy? Why was there a roaring in her ears?

"Just go to sleep," he said, like he didn't care about whether she followed his directions or not.

The water bottle! It must have been drugged! She didn't even have enough energy to gasp. The seatbelt felt unbearably tight, completely restrictive, and her muscles weren't responding to her brain's fuzzy signals. She pried her eyes open long enough to see flashes of his movements. He pulled a cell from his pocket, lifted it to his ear, spoke a few words to the other person. She didn't catch all of them, but she heard, "I've got her."