Enslaved - Love in the Future

Change for Change's Sake

"Master, would you like for me to get implants?"

They were having breakfast. Nav thought he must have heard something wrong.

"Meena, did you just ask if I want you to get breast implants?"

"Yes sir."

"Why do you ask?"

"I want to be the best slave I can. If you'd like me to have bigger breasts, I can have Feva arrange for me to get the surgery." Meena smiled sweetly. "I know some men like large breasts. If that's what you want, I want you to have it."

Her breasts were perfect. Nav liked that they were generous in size and that they would never sag. If they were much larger, it might attract undue attention.

"Or I can get reduction surgery if you'd like smaller breasts."

This was weird. "Meena, I like your body exactly as it is. I especially like your breasts. Changing them would be like defacing a work of art."

Meena smiled and looked down at her lap. "You say the nicest things," she said softly.

Nav didn't give this conversation much thought. Then, two days later, Meena asked if he'd like her to change her hair. It could be another color. She could style it differently. The choice was his.

Meena had rich dark hair. It was long and thick and just wavy enough to style in fashionable and sexy ways. Nav said he appreciated her thoughtfulness, but that he liked her hair as it was.

The next day, she asked if he wanted her to get tattoos. Or piercings. Or those little subcutaneous implants that were in fashion. That's when Nav realized something was happening. The Slave Owners Manual said that all slaves realized they were extraordinarily beautiful. That was part of what it meant to be a slave. How could Meena feel insecure about her appearance?

That's not how she felt.

Nav looked deeper into the details in the owners manual, and he learned that slaves frequently begin thinking they need to change their appearance to please their Masters. They know they are beautiful, but they are smart enough to figure out that individual owners surely have individual preferences about such things. Slaves know, correctly, that it is unlikely that they just happened to look like their Master's ideal companion. They needed guidance to make changes that would help them become as close to perfect as possible.

The manual warned that this was likely to become a problem. If a Master just kept saying they wanted their slave to stay as they were, the slave would eventually become agitated. They knew their Master had to like some feature they did not possess. It would drive them a little crazy unless the Master took action.

There was only one answer. Nav had to tell Meena to change something. Anything. It didn't have to be something big. He could ask that she wear higher heels, or textured hose, or specific cosmetics applied in specific ways. But bigger changes were better, and it was best if it was something that required a daily effort. Or surgery. Nav had to figure it out.

He came up with an idea for a change he would actually like.

He waited for Meena to suggest yet another way to alter her appearance. "Would you like me with freckles, Master?" she asked. "They are very fashionable. Lots of celebrities have freckles right now."

Freckles? That was tempting. Nav loved freckles. He'd had a particularly intense love affair with a woman who'd gotten one of the first head-to-toe freckle jobs. That all-over look was spectacular in and out of clothes.

"Hmm. I wonder what you'd look like with freckles," Nav said.

Meena perked up immediately. Had she finally figured out a way to be a more perfect companion? She was prepared for his question!

"I'd look like this," she said, displaying a picture of herself with a computer-generated freckle overlay. Weeks earlier she'd posed for a series of nude photographs and given them to Nav as a gift. He loved the pictures. He displayed them on the walls in his office, the bedroom, and the master bath. This photo was his favorite.

"Wow. That does look beautiful," he said.

Meena switched to the same picture with a lot more freckles. "If you really like freckles, you might prefer this, Master."

She gave him time to think about it, then switched to a third image. This time, she had a stunningly dramatic overlay. Every inch of her skin was covered with so many freckles it conveyed a sense of raw, wild sensuality.

"You've given me something to think about," he said. "Those freckle treatments look fabulous. Really. The only issue I have is that I love your skin as it is. It is so smooth and perfect I love looking at you. I might miss that look."

Meena couldn't mask her disappointment. "We could try them for a while and remove them if you want."

Of course she'd say that. Meena was getting a bit desperate, just as the manual said. It was time to give her a way to make her happy.

"Meena, I appreciate your determination to make yourself perfect in my eyes. I know you want to make me happy, and the problem is you are almost perfect already."

Almost? Was Meena about to hear what she wanted to hear so badly?

Yes. She was.

"I have always been fond of very athletic women," Nav said. "I want to show you something."

He dimmed the lights and displayed a recording of the most recent Ms. World Fitness Pageant. The contestants were stunningly beautiful women with remarkably muscular physiques. They weren't as bulky as female bodybuilders. Their goal wasn't to cultivate the biggest muscles possible. The fitness competitors had a kind of muscularity that made them look even more feminine. They were curvy to the extreme, with every muscle creating swells and valleys that gave the women the appearance of an anatomy chart of an idealized female form. Nav liked it. A lot.

Meena thought the pageant was fascinating. The most important part of the competition had the women slather on oil that made their skin look shiny and dark. They wore tiny bikinis, high heels, and nothing else. It was the best way to display the physiques they worked so hard to produce. They walked on stage and performed graceful routines that included flexing movements intended to highlight their particular type of powerful lean beauty.

Meena was intoxicated. She wanted to look like that.

Each contestant presented some kind of performance that showcased their hard, powerful bodies. Some of them did pole dance routines with so much grace and power that Meena was jealous. Some did modern dance. A woman with particularly impressive abs did belly dancing; it was the first time Meena was exposed to that kind of entertainment, and she loved the music as much as the dancer.

"I would be pleased if you had the strong, muscular appearance of those well-proportioned women in fitness competitions," Nav said. Knowing Meena yearned for him to present it as an order, he said, "Do that for me."

It was exactly what Meena needed to hear. Exactly. They'd been having breakfast, and Meena held a half-eaten bagel with cream cheese. She put the bagel down and never ate another. That day she began an intense program of weight lifting and stretches. She added calories to her diet, increasing her protein while cutting most carbs.

Her transformation happened with startling speed.

She watched her progress in the mirror, marveling at the changes. In time she gained a lot of muscle and trimmed a little fat. Her virtual trainer told her exactly how to achieve the perfect proportions of a fitness champion, inspected her progress, and showed her ways to achieve the best possible balance with every part of her body. Meena was happy with what she saw in the mirror because she knew the Master liked it. If he liked it, she liked it too. Coming to share each other's personal preference was an integral part of the ongoing bonding process. Nav praised her new look, noticing how happy it made Meena to have a way to make herself more beautiful in his eyes.

And wow. Va va voom!

This was part of a larger issue that was the single biggest challenge for Masters. It was hard to keep thinking of new orders for slaves. But slaves needed hear new orders regularly; it was essential to their happiness, almost as vital as air, food, and water. Fortunately, the manual had a long list of suggestions. Nav had Meena fetch their coffee, wear specific outfits, play her piano for him, shop for his clothes, modify the way she shaved her public hair, change the color of her nail polish, and on and on and on.

He always ordered her to have sex with him, even though they both knew Meena was engineered to have a stronger sex drive than Nav. She liked nothing more than being told to get on her knees and give him a blowjob. She'd watched hours of video to learn advanced cocksucking techniques, and Nav was blown away, literally and figuratively. Nav ordered her to select background music for their lovemaking. He ordered her to wear specific lingerie. When they prepared to make love, he made Meena decide if their bedroom would simulate a room in a ski lodge, a resort on Mars, a room of mirrors, or any of the hundreds of other choices available to them.

They were very, very happy.

Nav was particularly pleased when Meena suggested that she learn pole dancing for him. He'd told her to find some form of erotic dancing she could do for him, and pole dancing was a good choice. It was excellent exercise that displayed her new muscularity well; that's why it was often seen at fitness pageants. Pole dancing was a respected art form with competitions by women - and men - who wore beautiful costumes. But most pole dancing happened in strip clubs where exotic dancers turned it into a blatanly erotic performance by simply removing items of clothing one-by-one. That worked for Nav. He would never forget the first time Meena took him to the fitness room, lowered the pole from the ceiling, and showed him the sexiest strip tease he'd ever seen.

What happened afterward in the bedroom was epic.

Nav made sure to praise the changes in Meena's body. She'd known how much he loved gazing at her nude form, and she knew how much her enhanced muscularity thrilled him. Knowing that she had an unending hunger for a daily diet of orders from her master, Nav added the words "do you best" whenever he complimented her dedication to fitness. Repeatedly saying "do your best" to a slave had the effect of instilling the kind of determination and discipline seen in elite athletes. Meena trained like a woman after a gold medal.

It wasn't long before her virtual trainer announced that Meena had achieved perfection. She had the ideal proportions sought in fitness competitions. The goal now was to maintain exactly what she already had. Meena swooned when Nav told her to look into the possibility of entering a pageant. Her costume! Her dance routine! Her flex program! Nav had found a way to give her an order that would unfold for months, satisfying her deepest needs. He felt like a very good Master.

One night Meena said she was ready to show him a dance routine she hoped would please him. He sat back on a chair in the fitness studio while Meena dimmed the lights and started a recording of soft, sexy jazz. A spotlight shined on the pole, and Meena danced into the room.

She looked spectacular. Meena wore the heavy, theatrical makeup favored by professional strippers. Her costume oozed sex. Towering high heels. A slit skirt with a hem so high it exposed the black band at the top of her pull-up fishnet hose. A waistline so low it exposed all of her perfect abs. The black leather skirt matched a black blouse held together in the front by a single knot floating at the bottom of dramatic cleavage. It was elegant and slutty at the same time.

Meena went to the pole and began. She climbed on, then climbed higher, and higher, and finally reached the top, spinning slowly all the while. It let Nav see her from every angle, and he was happy to just sit and stare. Because he was a good Master, he'd devoted some effort to training Meena to enjoy exhibitionism. It had worked well enough that she got an extra thrill from exposing so much skin outside the bedroom.

Nav expected she would remove her blouse first, but she surprised him by removing her skirt. She wore a bikini bottom with a tiny black triangle in front and nothing but black strands in back. When the blouse came off Nav saw a matching bikini top so small it barely covered her nipples. She danced for a long time before taking off the bottom.

Meena finally took off the top, revealing a matching pair of black velvet pasties. The music ended. She wore nothing but heels, hose and pasties.

What happened afterward in the bedroom was epic.

They got into a pleasant routine. Meena would develop a new routine and costume, and Nav looked forward to the series of dance premieres that got sexier each time. "Master, I think you'll like my new dance," she said one day. "It turned out really well."

He was ready with a surprise.

"Good," Nav said. "Let's do it tonight. I'm going to be away for most of the day, but I'll be back in the evening." He told her to arrange to start dancing at precisely 9 p.m. He said he didn't want to see her costume in advance, so she'd find him waiting to be surprised in the studio. This seemed like a strangely specific request, but it didn't matter. He was her Master. She'd start precisely on time.

That evening Meena fixed her hair and makeup, donned her sexy new costume, and started playing a hot piece of jazz she'd chosen as her dance music. Before she strutted into the fitness studio she arranged for the pole to drop down from the ceiling. She entered slowly, and discovered that the room looked nothing like her studio.

It resembled the inside of a strip club. Nav sat at a small table with his glass of bourbon. He was dressed for an evening out. Behind and beside him was an audience of at least 100 people, all looking directly at Meena. She realized that it might be a very good scenario generated by a computer, but it was so perfect it looked like a real audience in one of those clubs that feature performances by dancers located off-site. Could that be what this was?

"We're anxious to see your dance," Nav said. Some of the people around clapped. They smiled, nodded in her direction, and looked at her expectantly. Some made eye contact. The music got to the part where the dance began, so she moved to the pole and started.

Her heart pounded as she wondered what was happening.

Is this audience real?

Would her Master make her strip for a real audience without telling her to expect it? She knew he'd been working to cultivate her natural exhibitionism, and he couldn't have chosen a more powerful training exercise. She was about to get completely naked in front of an audience. And she couldn't tell if the audience was real or a virtual simulation.

It made no difference. She went through her practiced paces, pretending nothing was different from the rehearsal earlier. But it felt different. Very different. She concentrated on slowing her breathing and controlling the trembling that started every time her concentration wandered.

Someone other than Nav applauded when she took off her skirt. "Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous," someone whispered. She spun around the pole upside down, dismounted, and reached the moment when it was time to remove her blouse.

She wore nothing underneath. No undergarments. Not even pasties. She'd hoped to surprise Nav by suddenly revealing completely bare breasts. In the crowd, someone went "Oooo!" People clapped.

All she wore was a white string bikini bottom. Meena climbed to the top of the pole, did a leg split as she spun back to the floor, then undid the knot that held her last garment in place. She stood there for a torturously long moment as the bikini bottom hit the floor and she waited for the music to end.

The crowd clapped enthusiastically. "That was lovely, Meena. The best dance yet," Nav said. It was hard for her to think of anything but the intense feeling of exposure as she danced naked for a crowd of strangers. It barely mattered whether they were real.

The walls of the room returned to normal and the pole retracted into the ceiling. Meena wasn't certain if it was appropriate for her to ask a certain question, but she had to know.

"Master, were those people real?" she asked.

Nav smiled. "Did they seem real?"

Meena nodded her head vigorously. "Very real."

"Well, they were real convincing. They were real attentive. But no, those were just computer avatars programmed to act like an enthusiastic audience for a particularly lovely exotic dancer. You do such a wonderful job putting yourself on display for me, I decided it was time for you to imagine performing like that for strangers. It's time for you to enter some fitness competitions. Maybe simulations like this can help you prepare for being on a real stage."

Meena didn't know about that. All she knew at that moment was that she wanted her Master to take her to bed and ravish her. Her belly felt like fire. Her breasts were big and hard, and her nipples were painfully erect and slightly purple. There was a hot itch between her legs, and wetness spread down her inner thighs. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to control her breathing. But Nav didn't want her to control herself.

"Go to the bedroom," he ordered. Meena only needed to be told once.

Meena expected her Master would take her to bed and do the things she'd come to love. If she was lucky, he'd make her suck his cock. But Nav had another surprise for her, and it was a big one. He was about to go down on her for the very first time.

When she got to the edge of the bed he pushed her backward, forcing her to lose her balance and land on her back. She always giggled when he did this. He took off her shoes but left her hose on. The bedroom transformed into a room of mirrors, with Meena looking up at the ceiling and seeing their reflection. They'd done this before, and Meena had come to love watching her Master as he made her cum over and over and over.

It started the way it usually did. Nav stripped off his clothes, laid down next to Meena, and raised up on one elbow. He kissed her passionately. Sometimes he started gently, slowly kissing her with more intensity. That's not what he did this time. It was as if he was attacking her lips and mouth, probing insistently with his tongue, and holding her head in his hands as if there was some chance she'd squirm away.

This time, he proceeded rapidly, kissing lower, and Meena watched in the mirror. Seeing and feeling at the same time somehow made the kissing even hotter. She knew he would move to her breasts, then her nipples, and he wouldn't stop until he made her cum. They had been together long enough to know precisely how to excite and satisfy each other. They kept getting better at finding ways to arouse their feelings with things like Meena's dancing and Nav's surprise with the virtual audience. The process of bonding continued every day, and it made it easy to feel stronger and stronger attraction with the passage of time.

And then, Nav did something unexpected.

He was kissing and sucking on one breast as his hand slid down her hard abs and dipped between her legs. Nothing new yet. He circled her pussy, running his fingers around her lips, torturing her by withholding the touch she wanted most. Again, nothing new. He dipped one finger into her wetness, going up and down gently, taking an agonizingly long time before slipping inside by the tiniest amount. Then he surprised her.

Nav moved his hand back up her body and smeared his wet finger around and around one nipple. Meena was shocked, but in a good way. It felt like a jolt of electricity coming from his fingertip.

What is he doing?

she wondered. She was shocked again when he sucked that wet nipple between his lips, tasting her excitement for the first time. "Oh, Master," Meena said, rolling her head back and forth.