Chapter 8: The Forever Toy
Hunger and a full bladder gnawed at the edge of Ana's awareness again. At some point, the thing that had been pressing and buzzing against her sex all night was removed, and she finally fell into a deep sleep, a sleep that everything in her wanted to continue.
Even asleep, she could dimly sense her bondage, along with a sense that waking up meant facing something she desperately wanted to avoid. So she drifted off again.
It didn't last long.
There was a moment of panic when they tilted her forward and she kept dreaming, bound in darkness. In her mind's eye, she saw herself tripping, spinning through space, the morning light that drifted over the forest swirling around her.
Then suddenly she was vertical with her legs spread and the straps digging into her. There was nothing under her feet, and the mask was heavy and tight against her face. She struggled to open her eyes, some part of her still convinced she was dreaming.
Ana's first experience of real wakefulness was a moment of panic, crying out into her gag as something pressed down above her full bladder. It gave way to an icy, slick humiliation erupting in her belly as her bladder released, splashing into something below her.
She heard the sound of a plastic bucket being put down, and felt a hand gently cleaning her. For a strange moment, she felt relief. She had thought somehow she'd wet herself in her sleep, but she was clean.
Then fingers worked between her labia. She recognized them now as Sir's, by the shape and the gentle way he touched her. She let herself forget who he was and what he had done, and just enjoy the touch. It was surprisingly easy. He touched her like a lover, not invading her but simply stroking, bringing pleasure to her helplessness.
It was a relief to be touched that way after the long night and rude awakening. It reminded her she was still a woman. Not a machine to turn on and off with a vibrator, or a farm animal to be emptied into a bucket, but something to be stroked and pleased.
After a long moment, the hand withdrew and she felt faint pressure over the mask and smelled her own arousal.
The pleasure had only been incidental. The intent was to mark her, to remind her that she was made for pleasure of someone else. That her body made that fact undeniable.
She didn't respond at first. She found herself incapable of responding -- of any action at all, save for quietly grumbling behind her mask.
But that wasn't quite true, the bondage left a little movement. She tried to push her crotch out to him, to remind him what she was, so he'd stroke her again.
Instead, she felt his lips, gentle but inescapable against her sex. They did not kiss or lick or bite her, but simply pressed against her. A mouth breathing her in and exhaling hot breath that made her shiver.
She pressed against him, spreading her swollen lips against his mouth, and felt him chuckle, the sound vibrating into her.
She'd had a boyfriend once who'd liked to savor her like that, enjoying her scent and the feel of her sex against his mouth. But he'd been a sweet boy, if a bit submissive for her tastes. He'd never chuckled, or spread her lubrication across her face to mark her.
And even though she couldn't open her eyes or shake out the cobwebs, her head cleared just enough. This wasn't a man pleasing her as a woman. This was a man enjoying her as a cunt.
She'd decided it herself, although he'd forced her to. She couldn't quite remember what the other choice had been, but surely it couldn't have been more dehumanizing.
She pressed harder against the mouth, hoping that at least she was right and it was Sir, and not his terrible father. The lips moved against her cunt, as if he were whispering a secret with his hot breath. Then he kissed her once and departed.
She felt the rubber hood tugging at her sticky skin as he pulled it off. She blinked, struggling to adjust to the light in the room and the sudden feeling of cold air on her face. Sir smiled at her, stroking her sweaty cheek. She couldn't help but smile a little too.
"Thank you, Sir," she said, her throat sore and crackly. "Can I have some-"
She stopped and murmured her thanks as he held up a straw to her mouth. The drink was chalky, thin, and mildly sweet, tasting of vanilla and artificial strawberry. A meal shake mixed with water -- he'd probably taken it from her cupboard. There was not nearly enough to fill her hungry belly, but enough to stop the rumbling for a while at least. His free hand continued to stroke her hair as she drank. It was intimate and awkward, and so she closed her tired eyes.
"You'd better finish you breakfast, cunt," he said, before she even realized she'd started to drift off. "It will be several hours before you eat again."
Ana forced her eyes open, focused on getting the drink down. Mercifully, he stopped stroking her, content to simply watch her finish.
"How was your first night as an owned cunt?" he said, his voice incongruously gentle.
"It was hard, Sir. I'm exhausted and sore."
"Down here?" he asked, his fingers casually running between her lips.
She winced.
"A little, Sir, but not... not there specifically."
He nodded, and continued to stroke her.
"Sir, please stop. That vibrator was going all night, and I need to rest."
She'd intended to sound authoritative, commanding, but her voice sounded so pleading and submissive in her ears. She forced herself to meet his eyes, and let out a growl in her throat, just barely resisting the urge to shout at her captor.
"Are you sure that's what you need, confused little cunt?"
She sighed. "What do you want me to say, Sir?"
He looked down, smiling.
"That's a good start."
It took her a moment to realize what he'd meant. Without even noticing, she'd started matching his thrusts. Ana closed her eyes, letting his fingers work in and out of her.
"Now beg for it, cunt."
"Can I please, cum Sir? You've been winding me up all night, and I really need it."
"Try again, cunt."
"Please let me cum, Sir. I need it."
He gave her a questioning look.
"More than you need to rest?"
She looked down. "I don't know, Sir. If you think so."
"Good answer," he said, giving her clit a little rub with his thumb.
"Tha-ank you, Sir. Please, a little more."
"I appreciated the suggestion yesterday, cunt. It was a good one," he said, his fingers slowing slightly.
"Uh, suggestion, Sir?"
"To make you beg," Dane said. "Do you remember what you wanted me to make you beg for?"
"I didn't want-" His fingers stopped suddenly, and he gave her a warning look. She felt her cheeks flush.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"I want to, uh.... I don't get to choose," she said, looking away, her cheeks flushed.
"And who gets to choose?" he asked, his voice stern.
"You, Sir." She said quietly.
"Do you remember why?"
