The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A veil of sadness had descended on me when I realized our joyous weekend together had come to an end. Now the sadness is banished, thanks to Tom’s sweet loving. I turn to kiss him tenderly and tell him, “Thank you for helping me through that. You always know how to make me feel better. In your arms, I feel safe, happy, and fulfilled. You’re always there to care for me and protect me, even from my own silliness.”

Tom hugs me around my tits and replies, “My sweet princess should never be surprised at that. A marvelous person like you deserves to be happy and protected. You give so much in return to those who know the real you, especially to me. I have never felt so content, so much a man, so drawn to a woman, as when I am with you.”

He makes me feel secure enough to strip my masks off. I need to explain to this wonderful man how I truly feel, “I have turned my back on my old life although, as you wish, I pretend it still exists. My world has turned upside down. There are so many changes. It is frightening. Now I have only you to sustain me. I love you totally. I will say anything for you, do anything for you, be anything for you. I am what you choose to make me, slave, corrupter, princess, or goddess. Without you I would wither and die, but a girl also needs other girls. We share things in ways that men can’t fully appreciate.”

Tom replies, “I understand your fears beautiful, but continue to trust me. I will guide you through all the emotional turmoils that are part of your training. I’ll help you become a person who is secure in and proud of her new condition. I know you need other girls to share with. You told me how few kids your own age you ever felt close to.”

I purr as he places a string on kisses on my bare neck and shoulders and continues, “Now you have many new close girl friends, almost sisters. They feel you helped them open the way to a new, rich, rewarding part of their lives for which they secretly yearned for years. What they gained is so much more substantial to them then the unimportant things that were lost. You should never feel bad about your part in that process. Speak to Paula. Share your thoughts with her and you will see that I am correct. What you don’t know is that you will be seeing your sisters again much sooner then any of you suspects, but that’s all I can say for now.”

I hugged him and kissed him then reply, “Thank you my lord. You always help me see the good in every situation and make me feel better about myself. It will be hard to wait for that day I see Paula and the others again, but knowing that it will be soon makes it easier to deal with the end of our memorable canoe trip.”

I see he is ready to respond, but I continue quickly before I get too afraid to say what I must, speaking in the mode of a displeasing slave, “Master, your slave has one other thing she must confess to you. It is something important. This slave fears a time where she many not be able to follow her Masters commands. Your slave has told her Master that she would never willingly betray him and she spoke the truth. However, your slave fears the uncontrollable passions that have been unleashed by her training. They make your slave weak and may loosen her tongue. Your slave must reveal everything to her Master. You slave is unsure when her body is inflamed if she could resist another’s touch. This slave remembers how helpless she was when others touched her about the campfire and on the hunt. She was prepared to do anything to be fucked. Please understand a slave’s weakness. Help her to know how she can follow your command and never betray you despite her weakness.”

I find that I often speak using the third person when I’m scared Tom may be angry. He often seems to respond better. Not this time. Tom offers no comfort. His response is unyielding, “If you betray me or engage in intercourse without my permission then you will be disciplined without mercy. Let the fear of your Master’s wrath be your defense. I will help you to better understand the reasons for that fear. Now I must take you home. While I drive there is another video for you to watch. Watch it all the way to the end.” Despairing that any video can help me I know that I still must reply, “Yes, Master.”

First Tom replaces the Ben-wa balls and graduates me to the next bigger butt-plug. It’s more then halfway to the biggest size. Then he gets dressed. I settle down to watch as Tom starts driving. As always, every bump in the road seems to make the Ben-wa balls dance, increasing my arousal.

There are three main differences in this video. First, it’s a home movie, not professional quality. Second, it’s what I’d call hardcore bondage and discipline. It shows various girls being restrained while naked. They are tied, chained, and gagged in a wide variety of painful and humiliating positions. They are disciplined by means of whipping, spanking, dildoes, and verbal abuse for a variety of minor offenses. Bright red and white marks decorate every inch of their flesh. These scenes thus far mirror the most depraved and disgusting images of my dreams, but now it turns worse.

The video shows a variety of female assistants helping their Master. What they do to their own sex is even worse then what he did. Yet, he is always in charge, directing their actions. Sometimes blood drips freely to the floor. Other times the assistants drink it while they bring themselves to orgasm. Some of the victims scream only in pain. Others seem to be aroused by the abuse. They are humiliated by shaving, urination, defecation, and being degraded in front of those closest to them. The are choked and drowned by means of thrusting their heads into toilet bowls until they pass out, or are they dead? Their captor or Master is unmoved by any amount of begging or pleading.

For the first time in a week I completely forget about the Ben-wa balls when they’re bouncing in my pussy. My fear escalates with every image then changes into blind panic. When the video ends I look into the small hanging mirror. The frenzied girl who looks back is literally as white as a sheet, shaking like a leaf, with a line of drool dripping from her lower lip. Perhaps I’ve forgotten to mention why this violent and disgusting video has such a devastating impact to me.

Most people, including myself, have become blase about the horror stories reported daily in newspapers and on TV. It’s because they are removed from us; happening to people far away that we never met; we convince ourselves those things can’t affect us. That’s the third and final difference in this video. You see in every scene the man who orchestrates the discipline and abuse of the defenseless women and a few men as well is unmistakably—Tom.

Never in my life have I felt such profound and overwhelming fear of another person. The man I loved hopelessly; the man I revered as a master of passion; was transformed by what I’d just seen. I had glimpsed his hidden strength and resolve, but I had never suspected that he was capable of a fraction of what the video had shown. As a Master of Pain he is an artist, a demi-god without peer.

Our rough sex had been limited to some mild and arousing spanking. I know now that Tom had never even mildly disciplined me. Had I ever given him reason to? I never would dare to knowingly do so. For now, I knew what he was capable of. I no longer worried about my passion overcoming my honest desire not to betray him. Now the fear engendered by the images burned into my brain would always out-weigh any other consideration.

What is most amazing to me are the contrasts and similarities. The man I knew projected love and caring. He hid his power and resolve behind a gregarious personality except when he gave a command that could not be disobeyed. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the person in the video. In addition to his face, the way he moved and the timber of his voice made that unmistakable. However, there were no other hints of the man I loved in the video.

The Master in the video projected fear and dominance to both his victims and his female assistants. There were all treated with disdain; existing only to be punished for their misdeeds, or to serve his will. There wasn’t the slight hint of caring, compassion or mercy. It was like there were two radically different and diametrically opposed people co-existing in the Tom’s body. My love for the first was unaffected, but I prayed silently that I would never, ever meet this other, this unmerciful twin.

Tom stopped just short of my house at our favorite hide away. He came back to me removing his clothes and the Ben-wa balls. I was still frozen by fear not knowing how to deal with these amazing revelations. He licked between my legs until I relaxed. I felt my passion rise as he continued, then my need. When I could stand it no longer I begged, “Master, please fuck your slave.”

He entered me slowly. Tom was as gently and considerate as he had ever been. I think silently, “I love him and I must be able to satisfy all his needs, even the most depraved. Otherwise, he will trade me for another slave like Desiree, who will. I would die if I lost him. I can’t stand it. I need to learn enough to be the slave of a Prince of Pain.”

“Mmmmmmmmm”, I purr as he touches me like a delicate flower. Up until now I dreamed of nothing else. How can I convince him that I need more? Not by lying, he will know. Not by disobedience, that’s too dangerous.

There’s only one way I think silently, “I must convince myself that I don’t deserve to be loved so tenderly. What have I done to deserve pain? Haven’t I betrayed my parents, my friends? I know I am a bad girl with sick and evil dreams, a slut, a corrupter, and a drug pusher. Even worse, it makes me hot to think about those evil things. I cannot confess my sins, but I should pay penance. I must be punished.”

Now I’m ready. I know what I must do. “Hit me!” I plead, “Hurt me.”

Wack! “Ooowwww!” I cry out in pain as my ass explodes in pain. Wack! “Ooowwww!” I cry out again as the palm of Tom’s hand strikes my other ass cheek. “Tell me why slave”, he asks. Gasping from the pain I reply, “I’m a vile witch who needs to be punished, a slut, a corrupter.” He says, “No you are a good slave who was obeying her Master and loves pleasing him with your body.”

“EEEEoooowwww,” I scream as he presses a pressure point painfully then demands, “Now tell me the real reason.” The pain is excruciating, I must tell my Master the entire truth. In tears, I confess, “Master forgive a slave for not telling you everything, I’m afraid of losing you to one of those girls in the video. You might trade me if I cannot do what they do. I’m ready to be trained for pain.”

Amazed at her words, Tom thinks silently, “What an incredible find this girl is. She instinctively knows what is required without being told. She does not need to be coerced, but is drawn to it by her own needs. Although she begs to be taught the sensuous arts of pain, she is not ready for true pain—yet.”

He shoves his cock to the hilt and stops moving so she will listen to him answer, “You are exquisite for your level of training. Do not seek to rush it. That is for me to determine. Obey if you wish me to keep you. Now finish pleasing me.” I respond, “Yes Master, you will determine my training.”

As we continue to fuck, I’m incredibly turned on by imagining myself taking different roles in the video. I see myself a tortured victim whose tits are tied so tight they have turned purple. I scream as lacerating metal clamps are attached to my tortured nipples. Will my bladder also lose control when he passes electricity through the clamps? " Aaaaaaiii,” I cry out cuming hard, but I need more. The images shift. Now I see myself as Tom’s consort, feared by all; yet at his command. Will I be as aroused giving pain as receiving it?

“Aaaaaaiii, Aaaaaaiii,” I wail as two orgasms come almost together. The images become a blur. I lose count of how many times I climax. My cunt slaps against him again and again until I feel his hot spunk streaming into my belly. “AAAAAAAaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeee”, I scream as it triggers the most powerful orgasm yet within me.

I almost passed out on that one. I still see stars before my eyes. It takes me a long time to recover. Tom takes the opportunity to re-insert the Ben-wa balls. “Master, your slave needs to tell you something.” He responds, “Go ahead, beautiful.” I continue, “Your slave can’t stop thinking about that video, it scares her to death and arouses her at the same time. She got so hot thinking about it when you were just fucking her.”

Tom ponders my words for a moment, looks deeply into my eyes, and says, “Beautiful Princess Now Passionate Slave will forget the last video except when it is needed.” I repeat, “This passionate slave will forget the last video except when it is needed.” I listen carefully to hear when that will be. Tom tells me, “Remember the video with enough fear to prevent you from succumbing to any temptation to betray either me or the secrets of the Gorean Society. All other times remember only images from the video without knowing the source. They will appear as erotic dreams that arouse you regardless which female role you take. You will never be able to communicate anything about the video to anyone.” I reply, “Yes Master.”

Tom drives back to my house after saying, “I need some quiet to think about tomorrow.” Her left hand begins gently massaging his cock through his pants in a way that is more relaxing then arousing. His right hand moves under my skirt as I spread my thighs to allow him to idly caress my naked pussy. He wouldn’t explain why I am not allowed to wear panties beyond, “Can’t see anything under that long skirt.”

So, Tom has a chance to think, “Cathy does not realize that most of the people in that video were being punished for violating the fundamental rules of the Gorean Society. I’m one of its primary local enforcers. I’ve trained for the position since I was 14. I’ll eventually train Cathy in the ways of pain. How to receive it; and how to give it. How to use it, to arouse, to control, to create or to destroy. She has the potential to be truly marvelous. If she shows the aptitude, there is so much more I can teach her; perhaps to be a trainer herself. However, pain will work best as a gradual education not one that is rushed. Besides there are many other ways I plan to train her during the coming weeks. And many things she already knows that I planned to reinforce.”

To be honest with himself, “There are times I have enjoyed giving pain, but never for its own sake. Pain can create undreamed of heights of ecstasy or destroy a person mind. I try to use it as a scalpel, not a bludgeon.”

I retrieve my fingers to taste Cathy’s sweet pussy then return it to between her warm lower lips. It might have been different I consider, “For Cathy, I do not wish to give pain except, as it is necessary for her training. She is too special, unlike any other female I’ve ever seen. Now fear instead of pain will guard her. She will be protected against succumbing to the very slave weaknesses for which she is being trained. This type of protection will not diminish her erotic compulsions, but will be ‘activated’ automatically at need.”

Tom questions his own motives, “Why is so important to that protection was given without subjecting Cathy to the extreme physical pain and humiliations she saw in the video. Am I allowing my undeniable attraction to interfere with my objectivity? Having admitted (at least to myself) my obsession with her, that must be guarded against. Besides excessive pain had a way of deadening the sensitivity to pleasure. I plan on continuing to increase her already dazzling sensitivity. I have yet to find her limits, but I sure am enjoying the search. Then using pleasure mixed with an appropriate amount of pain, I’ll train her and mold her into the magnificent sex slave and supportive partner of my own secret dreams.”

Pulling into Cathy’s parents’ driveway Tom plots with a mischievous smile, “First though, a little teasing, perhaps a little humiliation would be appropriate. Emotional pain was not as effective as physical pain, but its effects lasted longer and there were other benefits.”

Tom’s fingers in my twat gradually change from being comforting, to being arousing, to being agonizing. It’s dark, just after eight o’clock, when Tom let’s me out at my house. What I want to do is rush up to my room, jam my fingers between my legs and bring myself off. Instead, mom comes down to greet us. She wants to know all about my weekend, but I say there’s still homework I have to finish before school tomorrow. I can’t refuse when she invites Tom in, “just for a cup of coffee”.

When we enter the kitchen Tom says, “We never get to talk Mrs. Goodhead, why don’t we let Cathy serve us.” When he looks at me, I realize that this is not a request, but an order. Mom says, “That’s so nice of you Tom. So tell me everything.” Tom describes the last minute change of plans, what we ate, how the girls looked up to me. Mom chimes in, “Yes my Cathy has always set the standard of virtue for other girls.” I think silently, “If only she knew what standard I really set.”

I finish serving and sit down across from Tom who continues, “Of course, our chaperones were very nice, and especially liked Cathy. They helped watch over everyone’s virtue.” I smirked silently, “Yes, they watched it crumble, orchestrating it fall, and used me as their instrument.”

Tom says, “Everyone had fun on the river. Of course, the rapids were the most exciting, but Cathy liked the calm water where we could rock the canoe back and forth. Isn’t that right, Cathy?” I feel my pussy spasm with the memory of how I was impaled on Tom’s thrusting cock while his thrusting made the canoe rock back and forth.

Hiding the flush in my cheeks I respond, “Yes, except for that time you pushed me out of the canoe.” Mom exclaimed, “Oh Tom, you bad boy.” Tom smiles and says, “Well Cathy was complaining how hot she was, so I helped her cool off. I made it up to her though. Do you want to explain how I warmed you up again while everyone else watched?”

I must be turning bright red thinking, “No, I don’t want to tell my mom how you were screwing me naked in the middle of the river while our entire group was kidding me about what a slut I was.” Mom tries to rescue me, “Oh Tom, I see you’re teasing her. My, you are a little devil.”

“Oh!” I say, as I feel his bare foot moving up my leg, under my conservative skirt, along the inside of my thigh, to press against my pussy. Was this why he wouldn’t allow me to wear panties into the house? If only mom knew just what kind of a devil Tom truly was, or how big a slut I was to allow him to begin to press his big toe into my already moistening slit. I spread my legs, allowing him to sink deeper within me. I bite my lip to suppress the moans that threaten to break free.

Tom counters, “Not at all, Mrs. Goodhead, you didn’t hear me mention how Cathy led our singing with her enchanting voice in several church hymns around the campfire. Everyone loved that. Of course, their eyes were riveted on Cathy just afterwards when she display many other talents. Would you like to tell your mom or shall I?”

The images flashed through my mind, “Being revealed as a naked slave. Having everyone present push a finger up my cunt, see my pussy shaved, or drive me to orgasm with their tongues. All in order to release their own carnal lusts.” I felt my pussy spasm around his toe. “Why was my Master doing this to me when I’m sitting at my own kitchen table in my parents house in front of my own mother?” I agonized.

I can see the laughter sparkling in Tom’s eye’s. His toe in my pussy, now coated with my juices, continues its tantalizing massage. It’s difficult to speak or even think. “Nooooo, please, Ma.", I chop myself off just before saying, “Master”. How could I possible explain that kind of slip?

“Oh Tom, now stop. Look what you’re doing to my baby girl. She’s all flushed.” Exclaims mom then continues, “I’d better tell you about my canoeing trips.” Both Tom’s eyes and mine widen in surprise. He says, “Why Mrs. Goodhead, I had no idea. Cathy never mentioned it.”

“Well you see, I never told her.” Begins mom, “Cathy always gets uncomfortable when I speak about my wild youth.” Tom says, “Since we’ve been going out together, Cathy’s become very receptive to new ideas. I’m sure it would be OK with her and I know that I’d love to hear it.”

At this point Tom had pushed my poor pussy close to orgasm. I can’t spare any energy to speak. All of it is devoted to stopping my hips from thrusting wildly. I am barely able to nod my agreement.

Once she sees that, mom begins her story, “It was when I was even younger then Cathy is now. My girlfriends and I had contests to see who’d wear the most daring clothes and who was best at teasing the boys. I was very competitive; always determined to win. I bought the skimpiest string bikini that I could find. The strip on bottom between my legs was described as ‘dental floss’. On top, I was constantly in danger of popping out because I’ve always been so big there.”

“Ah,” interrupts Tom, “So, that’s where Cathy gets it from.” Mom smiles and continues, “Yes, and 100% original equipment in both cases. Of course, that made it easier to tease the boys. I remember how my friends and I would dance. That never failed to make the boys want to take us aside so we could hug, kiss, and touch the way young people do.”

“What?!” I thought, “Did mom let boys touch her intimately the way Tom was touching me now? Stupid! She must if I’d been born, but even before she met dad? Whatever happened to the evils of pre-marital sex? Well, she’d always been very quiet when the Preacher lectured me. Perhaps I was wrong in assuming her silence meant agreement.”

Mom continued, “Well, I shouldn’t talk too much about that. Don’t want to be giving you young people too many ideas. I do remember my favorite game when we were camping. The entire group played it at night. We called it ‘The Hunt’".

“WHAT?!!!” I almost shouted and jumped halfway out of my seat. During “The Hunt” on the trip I just returned from 10 girls were raped, lost their virginity, and were taken as slaves. I was so stunned that the coffee I was sipping got pushed into my nose. I started coughing. “Are you alright dear?” asked mom innocently. “Fine mom, I just swallowed wrong.” I fibbed, sitting back down.

Tom’s big toe popped out of my pussy when I jumped up. When I sit again he reposition it. Hot, oily, and slick with my own juices, his big toe comes to rest directly on my clit. The arousal that had receded for a moment returns stronger then ever. I look at him impotently. Lifting my hand to hide from my mom, I mouth the words, “No! Please stop.”

Ignoring my plea, Tom turns back to my mom. “That sounds interesting, Mrs. Goodhead. What was it like?” he asks while his toe begins a slow, galvanizing massage of my clit. I pray Mom doesn’t notice how I suddenly stiffen or how my nails are digging into the palms of my hands.

I think, “I’ll try to focus on mom’s reply to distract myself from the assault on my engorged clit. It’s driving me insane with desire. I want to move. I need to press my clit against my attacker. I have to surrender to Tom. He’s forcing me to submit like a slave, but no matter what I can’t let mom see. The Preacher’s wife will never tolerate this under her own roof. If she finds out what’s happening, I’ll be cast out right after I die of embarrassment.”

Mom recalls, “Well it was sort of like a treasure hunt. We split up into boy-girl teams. My team only needed one more thing to win. We went looking deep in the woods far from the others. I led the way so I could tease my partner by swaying my behind and letting him catch glimpses of my chest. I was really unmerciful. He was having difficulty keeping up with me because he was getting so excited, if you know what I mean.”

“Wow!” I thought, “Mom had been exactly the sort of “loose woman” that the Preacher was always railing against. She tempted men with her young voluptuous body. Was it ‘like mother like daughter’ as she had told me so many times before? I feel my pussy spasm. Or am I already a bigger slut then she every dreamed? I have to stop. This thinking is making me even hotter.”

Mom sighed then continued, “I probably wasn’t watching where I was going, because I tripped over something and hit my head. I was stunned for a moment. He was bending over me looking very muscular and domineering. He was a line backer on the football team and had biceps like tree trunks. I felt a breeze and realized that I’d popped completely out of my bikini top. When I tried to cover myself I discovered that he had trapped both my hands above my head. He was so strong. I was completely helpless.”

Tom’s toe on my burning clit is quickly pushing me towards an orgasm. I’m trying to hold back, but it’s a battle I know that I’ll lose. Mom’s hot story is only making it worse. It was only last night that it was my tits that were exposed and it was I that was held helpless by strong male hands. My pussy is twitching continuously. I can feel my oils dripping down my thighs. This can’t be happening, not in front of my own mother. My feeble control is slipping. How much longer can I hold out?

I can’t escape Tom’s inciting touch. I try to shut out mom’s story, but my mind seems to focus on every word. I imagine myself as the powerless half naked girl she describes, “He took advantage of me, doing unspeakable things. First I tried to resist, but there was nothing I could do against his dominant power. I gradually succumbed to his commanding presence, struggling less and less.” My clit is vibrating with lust, teetering on the brink of a gigantic orgasm, needing but one more erotic image to push me over. Then I hear her say, “Until finally, I became an enthusiastic participant, fulfilling his every desire. We didn’t rejoin the others until after the morning sun rose.”

That’s it! I feel it coming. I must submit to my Master’s domination. Unstoppable, my orgasm is rushing towards me. I submit utterly as Tom’s slave; stiffening like a board as every nerve ending in my body explodes. A torrent of liquid is expelled from my cunt. Biting right through my lower lip, blood flows freely in my mouth. Somehow I manage to suppress the orgasmic scream trying to break free.

The rest of the world disappears. I block out whatever else is said. That climatic moment extends for more then a minute. Alternating waves of fire and ice are wracking my trembling body. It’s too much. I’m overloading. I’m going to pass out. Just then, it ends.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh,” I hear as my lungs exhale every bit of trapped air. Then each and every tormented muscle in my body relaxes. I slump in the chair, completely spent, unable to even lift my head.

My unconscious tells my conscious mind, “Insatiable Slut! That was the most amazing climax ever. It was a slave’s orgasm and I had it right in front of my own mother. What a degenerate tramp I am. I loved it and I need to do it again, but for now I’m totally drained, totally sated. Will I ever be able to have multiple slave orgasms like that one? Tom says it’s possible for me one day with more training.”

From a distance, I hear mom’s voice, “Tom, Something’s wrong with Cathy.” He responds, “She must be more exhausted from our trip then I suspected. I’ll just take Cathy up to her room and put her to bed.”

Mom sounds very pleased when she says, “Thank you Tom. I can see how well you look after all my Cathy’s needs. You’re just the perfect young man for her. I’ll just clean up and wait down here until you’re done with Cathy. Take your time.”

Tom answers, “That’s very kind of you to say so Mrs. Goodhead. It probably will take a while until I’m done with Cathy. Please let me know if Preacher Goodhead returns before I’m done.”

Tom picks me up like a sack of potatoes. He tosses my limp body over his shoulder and carries me up the stairs to my room. Closing the door behind him he tosses me on my bed. He removes the Ben-Wa balls and puts a towel under my ass. He moves my inert limbs like a rag doll. One by one he begins stripping the garments from me.

I can’t focus on the moment. My mind begins to wander.

In my lurid imagination, I conjure up one of my earliest obscene fantasies. Forbidden by my parents to see the man of my dreams, he arranges a secret rendezvous. I escape the smothering protection of the Preacher’s house when they think I’m asleep, safe in my bed. Instead, our bodies entwine together as he touches me in unholy ways. While I let him worship my beauty with his lips and fingers he whispers, “I love you. Soon we will run away and I will marry you. We don’t need to wait. Show me you truly love me.” His touch makes me desire more, but I say, “I must wait until we are wed to have sex.”

Before things go too far, I break our embrace. I see how disappointed he is and try to make it better in other ways. When he offers me a drink, I finish it all. Soon, the room starts to spin and I feel a strange weakness in my limbs. “What’s happening to me?” I ask as I lose all control of my muscles, falling to the floor.

I’m fully aware, but unable to stop him, as he strips me and starts to touch me intimately. “Please don’t do this,” I plead in a voice that cannot rise above a whisper. Too late, I realize he must have secretly slipped me a date rape drug. It’s difficult, but somehow I to resist his touch. I berate myself, “Why didn’t I listen to my parents? Why did I flee the safety of my home?”

Now we are both naked. He rubs his manhood against my slit. I feel something in the drug or my own carnal desires driving my body to be tray me. I refuse to acknowledge the growing desire within me. I’m doing it!

Then he squeezes my breast painfully. It destroys my concentration. My suppressed arousal flares. “Ooooohhhh,” I moan unable to hide my passion. My hips lift, pushing his manhood between my lower lips. My submission confirmed; his rape of my body, rendered helpless by drugs and desire begins. Soon like my mother in her story, the last of my resistance crumbles and I partake joyously.

My eyes refocus, looking past the naked peaks of my tits to see Tom positioning his cock between my legs. I did not need to flee my parents’ house. My assailant is here, in my own house, in my own room, on my own bed. Still drained from my earlier explosive orgasm, I can’t do more then lay there. My pussy is still soaked and eager for the penetration I escaped before. I’m about to be violated in the one place I’ve always felt most secure, with my own mother right downstairs. “Oooooooooh,” I sigh. The orgasmic aftershock ripples through me as his hard cock sinks into my hot cunt. I think, “Now I am even more his slave, he is taking me in my most private place. Now he possesses even this part of my soul. By taking me here as I lay incapable of resistance, it is transformed into a symbol of his domination and our lust.”

Tom starts fucking me in earnest. Will mom hear the bed creaking? Will she suspect what’s happening to her baby girl right over her head? What if she opens the door and sees us? “Oooooooohhhhhhhhh,” I moan as another aftershock strikes.

He grabs my big rocking tits and whispers in my ear, “You’re a very baaad girl. Baaad girls need to get fucked. I love to fuck baaad girls like you. You had a slave orgasm downstairs, didn’t you my shameless slut? You’re a hot bitch that cums even with her own mom watching. Do you think she knows what a tramp her daughter is? She will when she sees your chair is soaked with your cum juice.”

“Oooooooohhhhhhhhh,” I moan as another aftershock strikes. He’s rig ht! My mom will know what a tramp I am. I feel Tom changing to short strokes. He’s close to cuming. Do you think she knows you’re getting fucked right now? Do you think she hears the entire bed moving? Does she want me to fuck you? Did she give me your helpless body to me to take upstairs and fuck? Were you already my property before you ever submitted as a slave? Are you merely a female given as payment to seal an alliance?”

Then he drives in all the way as his climax hits, “Aaarrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhh!” I feel his hot spunk shoot into my womb. “OOOOOOoohhhhHHHHH,” I moan as that sets off a real orgasm, not just another aftershock.

As we lay together with his shrinking cock still inside me he says, “Now I understand part of where your amazing sensitivity and sensuality come from. Did you hear how your mom was younger then Paula when she kept fucking her lover until the sun rose; or how he kept her naked for the rest of the trip? Did you hear how she begged to be fucked anytime he touched her tits or pussy; how she used her fingers to spread her twat to entice him; how they fucked regardless of who was watching; or how she likes it in the ass as much as in the cunt?”

“What?!” I think, “I must have missed that part of the conversation just before I collapsed in the chair downstairs. I hadn’t been taken in my ass yet. Mom was a bigger slut then me! And she began even younger.”

My thoughts are interrupted when Tom uncharacteristically pulls out quickly instead of cuddling more. It leaves me feeling empty. Our mixed cum drips onto the towel under me. He sits me up and puts on a bright yellow nightshirt on me.

My thoughts are a jumble, “Does Tom even realize tonight’s overwhelming emotional impact on me? Being taken on the bed I’ve had since I was a child? It magically merges all my earliest hopes and dreams with the reality of my fierce love and immeasurable need for him. All of the faith and trust I had as a little girl is now merged into my love and desire for Tom. He is at once the nefarious demon of my most depraved fantasies and the shining knight of my childhood dreams. Both are rescuing me from a loveless and passionless prison. He will carry me away from a threatened marriage to an evil king and bring me to a new world where we may build our futures together. He has released my dark fantasies and given them a vivid sensual reality that I’d never imagined possible.”

Finally, my voice returns and I whisper, “I love being your bad girl Tom. Did my mom really know you were going to fuck me?” He evades the question and says, “Between bedtime and morning you will either wear only this yellow nightshirt or the white one next to you, but you will sleep in the nude. Be sure to let the Preacher sees you wearing the nightshirts as often as possible. Accidentally display yourself and give him long hugs pressing your softness against him. Erotic dreams, princess. I’ll see you tomorrow morning 6 A.M. outside. Wear the new bra I bought for you.”

With those words, he was gone. I heard him say good-night to my mom, the door closing, behind him, and the van taking him away from me. I felt the tears leaking from my eyes again. I wouldn’t be waking up in his arms tonight.

Eventually, strength comes back to my limbs. When I sit up the rest of our cum drains out of my pussy. I stagger into the hallway to go to the bathroom. When I am done I look at what Tom has given me to wear. It is sheer-mesh which clearly outlined my nipples. Two sizes too small, it clings to every curve. The outlined shape of my barely restrained, bra-less tits jiggles when I move. If the lighting is right then you could see the inverted-V of my crotch through the thin material. Since it ends about three inches under my crotch, it’s bound to ride up showing my shaved pussy if I don’t constantly re-adjust it.

Across my rack is stenciled the words “BAD GIRL”. I feel a sexual tingle down my spine. I love being Tom’s “bad girl”. I love when he calls me that, especially when I can feel his cock driving into my pussy as he says it. I remember what he whispered about mom, “She gave me to him as a payment to seal an alliance; like a princess given in marriage to merge two kingdoms. I am his property by her covenant as well as my own submission. She knows and approves that I am being fucked by him that I am his slave, subject to his will. I can’t believe it, yet I do believe it. Can I ask her? No it’s just too weird.”

As I leave the bathroom I practically run into the Preacher. He has just gotten home and is trying to get into the bathroom. I throw my arms around him, give him a kiss on the cheek, and say “I missed you daddy. Give me a hug.” His arms go around me automatically. As my Master has commanded, I squash the softness of my oversized tits against him, rocking back and forth. It was something I’d done 1000 times before, but this time it felt different, when he broke the hug I say, “Good night,” and ran back to my room. Did he watch my ass? No, daddy would never “check me out”.

When I get back to my room, I remember to call Paula. I want to talk to another girl, to tell her what’s been happening to me. I only get to say, “Hi Paula, its Cathy. How are you doing?”

Then I listen to the happy hurricane that is Paula, “Oh Cathy it’s so wonderful that you remembered to call. I’m so happy to hear your voice. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. Telling myself to be more like you, vibrant, sensuous, and ready for anything. We stayed home all day. Paul’s kept me so busy. When we’re not ‘doing it’, he’s training me. His mom and dad both help since Paul is also new to a lot of what needs to be done. They gave me such a big warm welcome into their family. It’s like having a second mom and dad. They’re both very nice to me and very patient. And with Paul it’s like everything I ever dreamed and more. He’s so considerate and loving, yet commanding and masterful. I feel wonderful. For the first time I’m being treated like a woman, not a little girl. Everyone says I’m a natural and learning very quickly. Oh, I hear Paul coming back from the bathroom. He’s going to test me on positions. I have to go. I’m sorry that I’ve been monopolizing the conversation. Next time you call I want to hear everything that been happening to you. Got to go. Love you big sis. Bye.”

“Bye little sis.” I say as the line goes dead. After I put down the phone, I think, “I wish Paula was my real sister. It sounds like everything Tom told me was right again. Paula is happy and doing fine. If she is at all representative of the other girls from the canoe trip then I have nothing to feel guilty about. Actually, I’m jealous of Paula and the others. I shouldn’t be, but I am. She gets to sleep in the same bed as her lover tonight. She gets to wake up feeling his arms surround her. I don’t.”

I strip off my only garment, and slide nude between the sheets. I need to sleep, but my mind is too filled with erotic images, being fucked in the bed I’ve slept in since I was a child, being sold into slavery by my own mother, displaying my lush body to my dad, inflamed by the light of the blue moon to dance naked before men under the stars. One hand begins caressing my abundant tits. The other slithers down between my legs and caresses my mound. I know I won’t be able to sleep until I bring myself off. My finger burrows into the hairless furrow until it finds my engorged clit. Lecherous images continue to assail me until. “Aaaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaaah,” I climax twice and my sated body finally slips into unconsciousness.

My dreams are more disturbing and degrading then ever before. I am chained or tied not merely helplessly, but painfully, until I beg to be punished. The lash endlessly falls on my tender skin, making me cry out as I’m force to count off each blow. Each time I awaken, I am so aroused by my dreams of debauchery that that only masturbating again allows me to fall bask asleep.

I feel rested despite my active night. Before I dress, I stop to look in the mirror to look for any physical changes. Of course, there’s my collar and my shaved pussy. Does the girl looking back at me seem happier and more content? Perhaps, but besides that there’s no hint of the enormous changes in my life.

Outwardly, I’m still an 18-year-old maiden, same face, same wavy brunet hair reaching to my hips, a narrow-waisted 33-18-32 swimmer’s body holding a modest 120 pounds that was mostly muscle. The shapeless clothes I wear on my 5′8″ frame are anathema to a normal, attractive, college co-ed, especially a freshman, but they will soon be discarded.

I get dressed like any other school day, but without panties. Underneath, my bountiful D-cup tits are airily encased in one of the new bras that Tom told me to use. It’s a sheer-lace, lingerie-style, plunge bra with floral embroidery and triangle cups. Although I chose black, everything shows right through the material. The underwire was removed so I can maintain the appearance that nothing had changed since I lost my maidenhood just over a week ago. My mom may know the truth, especially after last night, but the Preacher must not be allowed to suspect the truth.

Mom is waiting for me in the kitchen, but I only stop long enough to grab a breakfast pastry out of the refrigerator. I’m still to frightened to hear what she might say about last night’s humiliating experience at the kitchen table. She blocks my way and says, “I can see you don’t want to talk, but I have two things you need to know. First, I approve of Tom. I think he’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Second, I know much more then you think about Tom. Be sure you never cross him. Never betray him and always try your best to do everything he asks even if you believe it is wrong. In the end, it will work out to your lasting benefit.” I don’t know what to make of mom’s declarations, so I run out without saying a word.

Once outside, I’m very aware of my jiggling tits. My bra has special reservoirs for each nipple so even when erect; they can’t be seen through any shirt I wear. There’s also an elastic-circle that pinches the nipple as if Tom held it firmly between his fingers. Those elastic-circles guarantee my nipples stay engorged and stimulated. My nipples have been getting steadily more aroused since I got dressed. Every time I move, little bolts of desire shoot into my body. I have to fight back the sensual fog that threatens to engulf my thoughts.

My thoughts center on my huge hooters. Not so long ago I was ashamed of them; they made me a source of evil temptation. Now, I’m proud of my tits. All boys, especially Tom, seem drawn to them as if they were magnets. I never tire of how Tom is always trying to hold them or fondle them.

He’s helping me to lose my childish modesty. Now, it makes me hot to display my big boobies and to know people are looking at them. Soon I’ll be changing into clothes to do just that. Tom always has me dress sexy, even lewdly when we’re away from my house. That makes him and every other male that sees me want to use me.

I should be reviewing my upcoming school week, but all I can think about is how much I want Tom’s hard meat inside me. I need him to help me focus on school, on my goals, on my future career. Without him it’s a struggle to think about anything but sex.

I think silently, “I’m such a “baaad girl. My nasty little pussy is already hot and wet. It’s in that condition most of the day every day now. That would have horrified the prudish virgin I was a week ago, but that girl now seems to be a different person in a different lifetime nearly forgotten. How silly I was last week to worry about becoming a slut. I need to be hot to please my lord and Master.

He says, “An intelligent slave trains herself with her Master’s guidance.” Together we keep pushing my body to have stronger and stronger orgasms. Last night was the strongest ever. He says, “They are slave orgasms, only possible when I submit completely. A free woman is incapable of experiencing anything so intense.” My pussy doesn’t appear to have any limit to its capacity for loving.”

Part of the reason is the Ben-wa balls that stimulate me whenever I move, but I wonder if I’d behave the same if they were removed. I can feel the changes within me, screwing more just yesterday then some other girls my age do in a year.

I think about my pussy constantly then shiver with pleasure at the thought that it is taking me over completely. That thought frightened me not so long ago; now I hope it may happen soon. Most everything about being Tom’s sex slave appeals to me, the submissiveness, the slutty clothes, and of course the sex. My Master is gradually transforming me into an insatiable nymphomaniac. He’s able to provide all the sex I need, but what happens if one day he can’t? That’s another scary thought.

I continue doing my Klegal exercises. I’ve been doing them all morning since I woke up. In fact, I do them now almost continuously, even more when I have something in my pussy. If I’m going to keep the rest of my body in shape, you better bet that I’m going to keep something important like my pussy in top shape too. I want to develop a “snapping pussy” that can milk the seed right out of Tom’s cock.

I think about mom again, “I already know that Tom’s the best thing that ever happened to me, but it’s nice to hear it coming from my mom. Would she still feel that way if she knew everything? Did she know what Tom was doing to me under the table last night? Did she send me upstairs knowing I’d be fucked? Did she hear it being done and remain downstairs? Does she know that Tom is turning me into a slut. She was a bigger slut then I when she was even younger then I. What happened to her since then? She obviously adored sex like me back then.”

I only know that now I don’t have to feel guilty all the time. I don’t have to hold anything back. Didn’t mom basically just tell me to be Tom’s sex slave? She said, ‘to do everything he asks even if I believe it is wrong”, to obey, to be submissive.

That only reinforces what I already know, “If I want to stay with Tom, there’s only one way to do it—as his slave. As a slave, I must obey his commands, no matter how distasteful, no matter how perverted, no matter how illegal, no matter what. I don’t believe he’d ever tell me to do anything without a good reason and with my welfare foremost in his mind. In any case, not only am I determined to obey, but also I’ll find a way to enjoy it and turn it into a new sensuous experience. I refuse to be a passive victim. I’m determined to be an energetic partner. I’ll use all my resources to find the best, fastest ways to become his perfect slave. And if mom complains then I’ll remind her about that nasty story.”

Suddenly, I had this hot idea that made my pussy juices flow. I ran back up to my room and took out a white V-neck T-shirt and old pair of shorts. I cut off the bottom half of the T-shirt so that it would show off my belly and cut from the neck to three inches above the new bottom to show off my shoulders. My tits, especially my nipples will be clearly outlined by the thin material. However, it should be OK if I’m wearing this bra or one like it.

I’d grown out of the thin red material of the shorts about two years ago. The waist was still OK, but it was too tight for my hips. First I cut slits on both sides from the bottom to the waistband. I cut off the material on both sides of the crotch, leaving only a narrow strip. With my new shaved pussy I should be OK. Finally, I cut the legs off so that no part of the shorts was below the crotch strip. I folded it up and ran back downstairs just as Tom was pulling up to the house.

As soon as the mini-van stops I jump in. Before Tom has a chance to say anything, I pull him to me for a deep French kiss. The Preacher left before I woke up this morning. After last night, I don’t care if mom sees me. “Hummmmm,” moans Tom into my mouth when I find his cock and begin stroking it. Pressing my tits against him, I reach down to unzip his fly.

Tom pulls me away asking, “Woah girl, that’s the best hello I’ve gotten all week, but don’t you want your present?” I resume stroking Tom’s hard cock and say, “Of course, you know how much I love presents, but I don’t want to wait too long before you unwrap your present, my hot nasty pussy.”

Just like last week, Tom produces a beautiful red rose. He hands it to me and I take a deep breath of its sweet fragrance as he says, “A beautiful rose for a beautiful princess.”

I half expected it, but I love it just the same. It makes me remember all the loving, caring things Tom said. Needing to hear them once more I wheedle, “Tell me again why you want me.”

Tom takes the respite from my earlier attack to start driving. He answers, “Of course I love your sexy body, your sensuality, my bad girl’s insatiable pussy, and how she’s takes more joy in her slavery every day. Yet, you’re so much more to me, your vitality, sweetness, intelligence, boldness, tenderness, and your giving nature are all precious to me. Last weekend you showed yourself to be a natural dancer, a natural teacher, and a natural leader. Everyone tuned into you without even being aware of it. You made helped them to accomplish goals that they barely admitted to themselves, let alone thought were possible to achieve.”

I drink in every word, knowing he means every syllable. It gives me a warm feeling that he truly cares for me, perhaps even loves me, although he carefully avoids that word. I see myself as a better person through his eyes. When I am with Tom, I believe anything is possible. My hands are not idle while he speaks. I fish out his hard cock. It’s heat sinking into my palm. I say, “You make me feel wonderful, here’s my thank you.” My mouth engulfs his manhood and I begin to suck him like a lollypop. I want to get it ready to plunge into my empty pussy and fill me with his seed.

We race to the bed in back as soon as he stops the van. I only win because he pauses to set the car break. We strip off our clothes. I tackle him while his shirt is only halfway off, still covering his face. “Aaaaaaaaaaaah,” I sighed, pushing his cock into me after I straddled his torso.

Tom finishes pulling off his shirt and we wrestle for the top position. His upper body strength easily wins, but then I use my developing pussy muscles. They clamp down on his hardness and begin milking his cock. That distracts him, enabling me to roll back on top. I crow my triumph like I’m in fourth-grade again, “Girls rule, boys drool!”

My triumph, although glorious, is short lived. I can’t hope to win against Tom’s focused strength. He traps both wrists in one hand. Without any leverage, he slowly forces me on my back. First one knee is pressed backwards against my tits, then the other. Now bent over double, I’m pinned to the mattress by his driving cock.

I’m not done yet. I tease him in my sweetest little girl voice, “Oh it’s too big to go in there. Please don’t rape me. Let a poor helpless girl go. I won’t tell anyone. It’s not my fault I was born with big tits and soft skin. Oh I never felt so full. You’re forcing me to feel bad things. Please stop. I can’t resist. You’re forcing me to want you.”

I wait a few seconds then resume, “Ohh, I feel you who cock. It’s sooo big. I have to move. I can’t resist you. I am only a weak girl forced to feel a woman’s passions. Aahh, I submit to your power. Aahh, make me yours. Aahh, harder, faster, Aahh.”

My game is working, not just on him, but as me as well. My lust takes command of my body. My hips rise to meet his thrusts. My legs press against him to feel his hot skin against mine. My feet wrap around his ass trying to draw him closer, deeper. My cunt grips his marvelous cock

He’s pounding into me like a demon. “Oooooooooohhhhh,” I moan as the first orgasm strikes. I feel a second one just behind and plead, “Fuck meeee. Fuck your baaad girl. Ream my nasty pussy.”

“Oooooooooohhhhh, Oooooooooohhhhh,” I cry from not one, but two back-to-back orgasms. They fry my brain, transforming me into a needy cunt that can only think of stuffing more of the hot hardness into me. “Oooooooooohhhhh, Oooooooooohhhhh,” I wail. Losing track of how many times I climax.

The constant tremors wracking my flesh slow to a stop. They are replaced by a growing awareness of an unstoppable force build deep within my loins. It fiery power grows every stronger burning outward, easily destroying my weak attempts to resist its might. I’m frightened by the intensity, but cannot escape the overwhelming power. “EEEEEEEEeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhoooooooo”, I scream as the volcanic power of my next slave orgasm erupts.

Like last night, I’m entirely drained by the incredible power of my slave orgasm. Tom arranges my limbs like a rag doll. Keeping my legs raised, he pushes two pillows under my ass so that his precious sperm does not escape my pussy when he pulls out. I’m too weak to do my Klegal exercises. Instead Tom and I cuddle. It’s one of my favorite times of the day.

Now that my ever-horny body is temporarily sated, Tom helps me focus on planning my school day, makes sure that all our assignments are on schedule, and plan on what to do for lunch.

After 30-minutes, Tom places a towel under my cunt. I’m no longer amazed at all the cum that pours out of me onto the towel when I sit up. After I finish drying off my slit, I say, “Please close your eyes, I have a nice surprise for you.” Tom kisses me and teases, “OK, but I don’t think I have the energy to fend off another attack by your pretty pussy.” I respond, “I never complain about your energy. You have plenty to keep my pussy happy. Don’t worry, it’s not that kind of surprise.”

As Tom closes his eyes, and says, “Well I’m opening my eyes at 30, 1. 2. 3.” I pull out my hastily prepared outfit and begin to quickly put it on. Right away I see there’s a problem. Forgetting about how the bra I was wearing at the time lifts my tits, I cut the T-shirt too far. No matter how I pull down, the bottom of my boobs stays visible. Regardless, the outline of my nipples can be seen through the fabric. I hear Tom count, “15. 16. 17.” I hurry to put on the cut-off shorts.

“28. 29.", says Tom as I strike a pose, putting my hands behind my head. That emphasizes my impressive rack even more. “30.” Finishes Tom, opening his eyes to view his surprise. I’m rewarded with a big smile. He declares, “I love it, especially the top.” I preen in pleasure and reply, “The way you love my tits, I knew you would. I did it in less then 5 minutes.”

He says, “Really, if you could do that in just 5 minutes, perhaps we should have you become a fashion designer.” I ask, “Are you teasing me?” He replies, “Not at all. There’s an underground market for slave clothing. With more time and materials you could do much more elaborate designs. As for your first design, let’s make a few finishing touches.”

He takes out a scissors and begins cutting the material even though I’m still wearing the red shorts. I try to relax remembering, “This is the man who shaved my pussy with a straight razor. I can rely on him if I only move as he instructs. I feel the cool metal of the scissors against my skin. I’m so baaad, the feeling is turning me on again.” I flip over when Tom wants access to my backside side. The danger of being cut and the feeling of increasing exposure as more of the material is cut away arouse me further.”

When he’s done, the shorts look more like a string bikini. The strip between my legs now reveals more of my crotch. It’s barely sufficient to cover my labia when my legs are held normally. If I spread my thighs wide then the strip will disappear into my slit. Much of the lower half of my ass is also on display. If I bend over, I’m sure the view from behind will stop traffic.

“Now get out of that,” Tom commands, " We’ll use it tomorrow. I have a different outfit for you today.” With some disappointment, I obey my Master. I reinsert the Ben-wa balls and put on the clothes as Tom hands them to me. It’s not as revealing. However, in it’s own way this outfit is more exciting then the last one.

I’m wearing the same black bra under a see-through, buttoned-down, white shirt, without the buttons. I could try to tuck the ends into my skirt, but Tom ties the ends together. That only highlights my bra and tits.

The skirt he gives me is the shortest one I own. Tom says, “I want to show off your long, beautiful legs.” It’s navy blue and ends just below my crotch. Anyone who cares to make the effort will see how they frame and highlight my red-satin panties. If I bend over then it will ride up so that no effort at all is needed.

“Do you like it?” Tom asks. “Of course,” I answer, “You know it makes me hot to display my body. This outfit does that and more without being lewd enough to get me arrested.”

Getting into the front seats, Tom starts driving. My left hand automatically moves to rest on his cock, giving it a massage more relaxing then arousing. His right hand automatically moves between my legs that are already spread apart. He moves aside the narrow band of material and begins to absentmindedly caress my slit. It’s already becoming a habit for both of us, like leaning on an arm-rest.

It’s the bumps in the road that not only cause the Ben-wa balls keep shifting, but my tits to bounce in my new bra. Combined with the middle finger pushing into my pussy, I’m having trouble controlling my arousal. Tom parks a minute later, he locks the van after we’re both outside. Just before he has to rush off, I’m told, “Remember slave, only I may remove the bra except when you change for swimming.”

It’s the first time in a week that Tom has permitted me to wear both panties and a bra outside my house. It’s not until we part that I realize the full extent of his evil plan. First the bright red-satin panties not only keep the Ben-Wa balls inside my pussy, they are guaranteed to be noticed under my ultra-short skirt.

Then there’s the Ben-Wa balls themselves. By the end of last week, when I wasn’t permitted a bra, I’d worked ceaselessly to manage the arousal caused by the constant stimulation from the Ben-wa balls. Finally, on Thursday afternoon, I’d succeeded.

I resisted the immediate need to masturbate by shifting my arousal to a special place deep inside of me. It built up there. Of course, when it was finally released, I was more helpless, more submissive, more desperate, and more passionate then ever. That’s what caused the first of my slave orgasms.

Now, I had the Ben-wa balls plus the feeling of everyone’s eyes on my scantily clad body. Worst of all are my wicked nipples. Every time I move, the little rubber bra rings pinching them arouse me more. My nipples have always been super-sensitive. I’ve lost count of how many boys had rendered me helpless and compliant simply by caressing them. Tom could easily bring me orgasm touching nothing but my boobies.

Why is the effect so strong? I’ve never heard of another girl my age that is stimulated so easily. They may get aroused, but not to the point of “losing it”. It must be what mom used to say, “You’re like me Cathy. Our breasts are unnaturally sensitive and susceptible to any stimulation. That makes us luckier then other women. We can get so much more pleasure from being touched.”

Why isn’t what worked last week working now? I can’t I displace my arousal to that special place deep inside of me? Is it because of the extra source of stimulation? I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not working.

My first class is in five minutes. I know better then to try and rush, but even walking at a slow place, it still feels like Tom’s fingers are caressing and pinching my nipples. I try to berate myself, “Slut, horny bitch. Think about something besides your tits and your twat.” It’s not helping. I feel the familiar sexual fog closing around me. I keep trying to fight it off, but it’s a losing battle.

Forgetting about my class, I’m only able to make it as far as the nearest bush. My hand plunges between my legs. My fingers work their magic in my juicy honey pot. My mind is cast adrift in the erotic fog.

My body is now on autopilot. I start rhythmically shaking my tits, increasing the hot sensations from my nipples. The warm sexual fog engulfs me. My eyes lose focus, my mind drifts in a sea of blissful sensations, occasionally punctuated by small orgasms. They ripple through my body, but do nothing to diminish my arousal.

Finally, the fog lifts a bit. There is pain in my leg muscles from standing in one place too long. I check my watch. I’ve missed my entire first class! My next class starts in 10 minutes.

Fortunately, I’m standing right across from the building it’s in. Even so, I only barely make it into my seat. It takes me 20 minutes, staying absolutely motionless, before I calm down enough to pay attention to the lecture.

When I look up, I notice the professor and half a dozen guys looking up my skirt. I think, “My legs have automatically spread themselves without any conscious thought. I bet they can see the outline of my mound through my sopping panties.

At this point, I don’t even bother closing my legs. If I don’t constantly concentrate on keeping them together, they’ll spread apart again. It’ll happen automatically, without any conscious thought on my part. What a slave I’m becoming. My Master will be pleased.”

I do give the professor a big smile, spreading my legs a bit wider and silently hope, “This might help my grade. If I can’t focus on the lecture or miss classes entirely then I’ll need something to keep my GPA up.”

Suddenly, I’m disgusted with myself when I realize, “I’m acting just like the girls I used to despise, trading on my sex instead of only using my brain.” On the other hand I think, “For the most part those girls are pretty stupid. A beautiful body is all they have to work with. They’re just trying to snare a college grad with the right earning potential. I know I’m way smarter then they are. So does Tom.”

Well, Tom said to me, “A beautiful and intelligent woman like you should always use both her looks and her brains. It’s a potent combination.” Is he right or does it just make me a no-class tramp? I want him to be right and I trust what he tells me. My legs spread a little wider.

“I’m feeling naughty”, I decide, “Time to try a little experiment.” Lifting my hand, I begin licking my finger, imagining that it’s Tom’s cock. In less then a minute, the professor scoots behind the front table in an attempt to hide the telephone pole that suddenly appeared in his pants from the front row. “I’ve got the power,” I say happily to myself.

When class ends I’ve still got the problem of how to walk across campus without a repeat of what happened earlier. “It’s almost time to meet Tom for lunch” I remember then I recognize, “I really need to feel his manhood throbbing inside my pussy. I can’t let this intense triple-arousal makes me lose track of time again. Then I’ll not only miss Tom and his marvelous cock, but he’ll be angry with me.” I shudder at the implications of that happening without a very good reason.

Trying several combinations, I finally hit on something that provides some relief. The Klegal exercises will keep the Ben-wa balls pretty stable. Using my upper arms to press my tits together reduces the motions causing the stimulation of my nipples. Unfortunately, it also makes my tits bulge out obscenely, especially in the outfit I’m wearing.

Suddenly, I’m feeling very exposed and vulnerable. That makes me even hotter. I wish Tom were here to protect me.

It gets much worse once I’m outside. The stares I got before are nothing compared to the obvious leers I get now. “Whore,” “Bitch,” are only a few of the things I hear the other girls say. Their words make me feel cheap and dirty. Tears leaking from my eyes, I start to run.

I try to make sense of my unexpected emotions, “I’m proud of my body. I love to display it. Why am I letting a few jealous bitches make me feel cheap and dirty? Why does that make my pussy even wetter?” The fiery sensations from my nipples and pussy makes me slow down to a walk.

Then I try to use my head instead of just my feelings, “I’ve heard comments like this before when I was with Tom and it didn’t bother me. It excited me. Of course, when I’m with Tom, I rely on his approval and support. He has the power to make me feel like a beautiful princess who can succeed in any situation no matter where I am or how I’m dress. I’ve figured out the answer. The longer I’m away from him, the less confidence I have, and the more insecure I feel. I need him.”

My new goal allows me to ignore the jeers and the looks of distain. I drop my backpack by a tree run to meet Tom. Disregarding any sense of decorum, I take both tits in a hand to stop then from bouncing. Everyone turns to watch the half-naked girl flashing both her panties and belly, holding her almost-exposed huge hooters, long dark hair streaming behind her, racing across campus.

I ignore them all. Keeping my fingers away from the nipples, I can hold back the stimulation to a manageable level. I focus on this thought, “Tom, I must find Tom; only he can rescue me from despair.”

Tom is waiting at our hideaway picnic spot. “Thank god you’re here,” I sob, throwing myself into his arms. Needing immediate physical proof of my worth I beg, “Please fuck me now, fuck me hard.” I help him to strip me. When I’m naked, I throw myself on my back, spread my thighs wide, pull open the lips of my shaved pussy, and beg, “Shove it in. Put your cock in my nasty cunt.”

“Ohhhh. Ohhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhhh!” I cry out in several quick orgasms. Each one drains some of the despair and restores part of my self-image. I was right; this is what I need.

After Tom climaxes, I beg, “Please keep your cock inside me and hold me.” He holds me close for a few minutes before asking, “Tell me what’s upsetting you.” I try do my best to recount my morning, explaining how the added stimulation of the bra made my arousal uncontrollable and say, “I know I must tell you everything so you may give me guidance that I cannot receive anywhere else. Does a slave like me become dependent on her Master’s touch and support?”

Tom smiles and says, “I will give you what you need. Beautiful Princess Now Passionate Slave cannot exist separately from her Master.” I repeat, “This passionate slave cannot exist separately from her Master.” I listen raptly knowing I must remember and obey every word he says, “Your need is more unbreakable then any addiction. Only by repeating the slave’s mantra can you manage your arousal by converting it into stored desire to be release by your Master’s will. Each time the mantra is spoken your slavery and submission will become more profound and unbreakable. You remember Desiree speaking of it. Now you’ll beg to learn it, memorize it, and repeat it constantly.” I reply, “Yes Master”

I must have faded away for a moment wrapped in the bliss of Tom’s arms. Now I know how he can help me. I say, “I remember now how Desiree told me that the only way for a truly passionate slave to be able to pass for a normal girl was to use the ‘slave mantra’. By reciting it, her sexual needs may be deferred until she’s in her Master’s arms or he chooses to release it. Please tell me more.”

Tom explains, “The slave mantra consists of hundreds of questions and answers repeated by a girl until she has memorized them. They are made part of her training. I will give you just the basics now and we will expand on it later this week. It should always be first learned while a girl feels a cock in her pussy.”

I smile squeezing his cock with my inner muscles. It’s working! I feel him getting hard again and ask, “Well then isn’t this the perfect time?” He starts gently thrusting and says, “You’re right. Repeat each phrase after me.”

What am I? A slave girl. What is a slave girl? A girl who is owned. What is my purpose? To please and obey my Master. How will I obey? To the best of my ability. How will I be pleasing? With both body and mind. What excites you? Total submission. What do you want? My Master’s command. What does it release? All my needs and desires. What do I desire? To be proud of my body. What do I need? My Master’s approval. What do I love? I love being a slave girl.

Tom makes me repeat the mantra. He commands me to store my growing arousal as he begins to fuck me. I realize amazed, “It works. There is a spot deep in my loins that slowly grows, but never seems to fill. My body still responds to his touch, my pussy gets wet and my nipples harden. The key is focusing on the mantra and my absolute submission to my Master’s will. I’m able to hold off the many orgasms I’d otherwise have enjoyed. With each repetition I feel my dependence on Tom increase and my slavery growing more profound.”

He kept me at it until I had it memorized. It was probably 20 minutes, but I had lost track of time. When Tom was satisfied he cups my boobs in his strong hands and whispers in my ear, “When I pinch both nipples, all your arousal and desire will be released.” He covers my mouth with his and pinches.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” escapes through my nose. I stiffen to stone, my cunt clamps down on the invader like a vice; my body is consumed by molten lava, and lightning destroys my mind. I must be dying, no human body can stand such violent pleasure and pain. I feel Tom cum then all consciousness is driven from me.

When I come to my senses, it’s as if I’m paralyzed. My muscles have no energy to move. I realize, “It was another slave orgasm, more powerful then the one last night. I shiver in fear recalling the intensity. The new technique works, but there is a price to pay. How much more can I stand before my heart explodes? I see that Tom has covered my nakedness with part of out picnic blanket. I try to get his attention having recovered barely enough strength to whisper, “Tom, Tom.”

After only a few seconds, he notices and gives me a tender kiss. Tom is already dressed. He sits me up and feeds me like a little baby. Comfortingly, he tells me, “Don’t worry. Everything is OK. You were marvelous. Just eat and get your strength back.” I gradually recover with the food and his devoted attentions.

Tom says, “We don’t have much time before our next classes. I know how it gets you hot to display your body. This afternoon, do so by my command. Remember that a slave is not permitted modesty. Flaunt your beauty. Make the other girls jealous. Make them wish to be more like you.”

I smile at the appealing thought and reply, “Yes, Master.” I continue asking, “And when I get too horny; I should use the mantra?”

Tom answers, “Exactly. You learned the technique perfectly. I know the strength of your release was frightening. I didn’t expect such a strong reaction, but you’re constantly surprising me with your amazing sensuality. Now that I expect it, I can release your arousal more slowly. Trust me.”

“I always trust you completely, my Lord, my lover.” I reply with a smile, reaching for another kiss. “Your quite welcome my princess, it’s all part of the service.” He replies with a wink. Still a little weak, I need Tom’s help to get dressed as before, complete with new bra and Ben-wa balls.

Tom helps me walk to the edge of campus. I tell him, “Thank you my Lord, I can manage from here. Our classes are in different directions.” We have a good long kiss goodbye and he replies, “Of course, my princess, now that I see you have regained your natural vivaciousness, I can depart secure in the knowledge that you are fully able to handle every situation.” I giggle, we cuddle, and then go our separate ways.

That amazing orgasm temporally slowed my responsiveness. I’m halfway to my class before I feel the arousal start to build. This time I make no attempt to hide my luscious bod. I want to display it and let the other girls burn with jealously. It helps being secured by the knowledge that Tom wants me to be exhibitionist.

I sway my hips and toss my hair, making my big boobs bounce enticingly. I’m determined to be proud of my body as my Master has commanded. All the boys and most of the girls watch me as I walk to class. I smile as several girls start arguing with the boys they’re with. I’m sure it’s about me.

Of course, exhibiting myself this way makes my arousal grow faster. I need to recite the mantra, “What am I? A slave girl. What is a slave girl? A girl who is owned. I love being a slave girl.” It works best if I do it “just under my breath”. I need to be sure that no one is close enough to hear me.

I find and recover my backpack. It’s undisturbed, exactly where I left it. Once I get to class I find I can act like a serious student. For the first time in more then a week, I don’t need to calm down and bring my arousal under control. Better still, I’m not late because I stopped behind a bush for “relief”.

“Cool,” I think, “I’m able to focus on the lecture and take notes. I can behave the same as I did two weeks ago sitting in this same seat. The same is not true of most of the people sitting around me. The boys in particular seem distracted by something. Am I the reason they can’t focus? I smile and pretend to ignore them.”

Unfortunately, some male lectures seem to be having a problem. They’re distracted and can’t seem to speak coherently. Perhaps it’s because I’ve moved down to the front row and keep accidentally spreading my legs.

I consider the possible dangers, “Does he have an excuse to ask me to leave class? I decide that if even one teacher is nasty about my new look then I’ll start teasing him without mercy. There’s plenty I can do with my sexy young body. Then the entire class will see him squirm. I know there are plenty of rules about teacher harassment of female students. He’ll end up being the one getting in trouble.”

I feel a sudden powerful urge to strip off all my clothes and suck the teacher’s cock then run naked across campus. “Stop girl,” I think, “Get yourself under control.” I use the mantra to suppress that impulse and calm myself, “. What is my purpose? To please and obey my Master. How will I obey? To the best of my ability. I love being a slave girl.”

I feel the “ball of arousal” growing. There seems to be a side effect, or is it just me, feeling a restive urge to display myself more. Why did I ever try to hide my sexy body? I never realized how much fun it is to be a tease.

I’m even worse on the way to my next class. Same as before lunch, I use my upper arms to press my tits together. They bulge out obscenely, like they’re ready to pop out of my bra. I’m so hot, I can feel the pussy juices dripping from my sopping panties. Only one thing stops me from running behind a bush to jerk off. The mantra stores my almost overpowering arousal until later, “. How will I be pleasing? With both body and mind. What excites you? Total submission. I love being a slave girl.”

I listen carefully for any girl making an insulting comment. I ignore them unless she’s walking with a guy. When I spot one, I sashay over, so everything jiggles and make a comment like, “If you didn’t dress like a frigid bitch you wouldn’t need to be jealous.” Then I grab the guy, press myself against him, and when his mouth opens to speak, French kiss him.

I don’t discriminate between geeks or hunks. When a guy doesn’t appeal to me, I just imagine that it’s Tom. If he tries to pull away, I know how to quiet him down. His cock is probably half hard just from watching me walk. I reach down and grab it through his pants. When he stops trying to escape, I massage it until I’m done with him.

Then I leave with a comment like, “When a handsome guy like you is ready for a real woman, I’ll introduce you to one of my friends.” The idiot girls all take out their frustrations on the poor guys. I escape to search for my next victim.

I giggle to myself thinking, “The shy, demure girl I used to be is gone. She was naively ignorant of how to use the assets the good lord gave her. I like the new aggressive, shameless woman I’ve become. She won’t take any crap from her inferiors.”

By the time the day is over, I don’t hear any more nasty comments. I notice several girls steering their guys clear of me. Many of them were not even my “victims”. Word must have spread not to screw around with me. It gives me a feeling of power.

Power is also concern. My “ball of arousal” is much, much larger then before. I getting nervous about what might happen when it’s released. And the thought of my total submission during a slave orgasm is making me hotter still. I won’t make it back to the van unless I keep repeating, “. What do you want? My Master’s command. What does it release? All my needs and desires. I love being a slave.”

It’s like a positive feedback loop now. The “ball” is somehow driving me, urging me to find more victims, more boys I can press my hot body against. Except it makes me want to do more now, to dance my fervor, to strip and dance naked, to proclaim myself a slave. Things I cannot do without displeasing my Master.

I can only maintain control by continually repeating my mantra, “. What do I desire? To be proud of my body. What do I need? My Master’s approval. What do I love? I love being a slave.” The mantra adds to the ball making it bigger, increasing the driving power of my urges. If I can’t stop it soon I don’t know what will happen. I have to go back to the van. I need to reach Tom before I explode.

I reach the van and see him inside through the window. I’m so worked up that just the sight of him gives me a small orgasm. My legs give out and I slowly collapse to the ground calling out, “Tom, help!”

Tom heard Cathy’s voice. He came out of the van and sees her lying on the ground in a daze. Picking her up, he smells the arousal rising from her. She mummers the mantra again and again. “Uh Oh,” he says, “You overdid it. Even I heard about the big-breasted, half-naked beauty on campus that was trying to seduce every girl’s boyfriend away from her. Well your modesty is almost gone. It’s time to remove what little remains.”

Tom closes the door, takes off his clothes then strips Cathy’s limp form. Her body shudders occasionally as another small orgasm is set off by the touch of his hands. He thinks, “She cannot be treated gently. She requires a slave’s release.”

He places a towel beneath me as he positions my body then commands, “Slave, I know you can hear me. Do not speak. I will give you the release you need. You will experience a small slave orgasm each time I thrust my cock into you. You will have a larger slave orgasm when I spank you. With each orgasm you will feel the last pieces of your modesty being destroyed. Whatever remains will be destroyed by your when I cum inside you, releasing the remainder of your arousal in one giant slave orgasm.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaah,” I moan, climaxing immediately when Tom enters my steaming cunt from the rear. “Aaaaaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaaaaah,” I cry as each thrust forces another orgasmic submission from me. Wack! “Oooooooowwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaahhhh,” I squeal in mixed pain and pleasure when he spanks my ass. Wack! “Oooooooowwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaahhhh,” I scream, compelled to the second large slave orgasm in a row. “Hit me,” I beg, “Hurt me.”

“Think if you have any modesty remaining,” Tom demands. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” I moan in orgasm, seeing myself stripping for him in the center of campus. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” another climax burns as I see myself fucking him in the amphitheater before a cheering crowd. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” I cry, seeing myself giving him head, naked before my mom. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” I wail, seeing myself wearing only my skimpy nightshirt, teasing the Preacher until he presses his hard cock into me.

Wack! “Oooooooowwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaahhhh,” I shriek yielding to another slave orgasm. “Answer me slave!” demands Tom. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” I cry, climaxing repeatedly as I attempt to answer, “No Master, aaaaaaaaaah, I have no modesty left. Aaaaaaaaaaah, A slave is not, aaaaaaaaaah, permitted modesty. Aaaaaaaaaaah, Fuck your bad girl. Aaaaaaaaaaah, Reem your slave’s cunt.”

Tom says, “You are so fucking hot and sexy. I’m almost there.” I can’t speak anymore only moan. I ram my cunt backwards, trying to drive the hardness deeper. My climaxes merge, becoming one endless orgasm. I feel the “ball of arousal” slowly shrinking, but it is still vast.

“Arggggggghhhhhhhhhhh,” shouts Tom in victory as he drives his cock deep into my womb and blasts his essence into me. “Oooooooowwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaahhhh,” I howl forced to total submission by a gigantic slave orgasm that scorches the flesh from my bones and destroys the last remaining bits of modesty and propriety that I had hidden even from myself.

Tom and I both collapse onto the bed. Once again my muscles are paralyzed with fatigue. Even the muscles of my cunt are unable to hold his softening cock. It slips out. Our cum leaks out into the towel Tom put beneath me.

I hear Tom begin to snore. He’s fallen asleep. My body is pressed down into the mattress by his weight. There’s nothing I can do, but wait and think, “Has my modesty been destroyed? I sense that it is true. Being exposed and displayed will still affect me, but only to arouse me. The only concern will be getting into trouble for ‘public lewdness’.”

My thoughts shift, “That amazing series or climaxes. Wow! For the first time, I had multiple slave orgasms. It was fantastic, incredible. Better then anything I had ever dreamed possible. I have been spoiled forever. I could never go back. I’d had many normal female climaxes. They were very sweet, sometimes like a single violin playing a haunting love song, sometimes like a single drum playing a rousing match. However, they paled in comparison to a slave orgasm. It was like a full orchestra playing their entire musical range with all their energy and skill. You are swept up in a total, overwhelming experience, feeling things you never suspected even existed.”

My burgeoning need for sex is totally sated, at least for the moment. I’ve never felt so happy, fulfilled, and content. I savor the feeling of drifting into sleep naked under my man thinking, “Tom knows me better then I know myself. He’s opening endless new worlds for me to experience. I am given all the things I truly need. I love him. I love belonging to Tom. This is one of life’s perfect moments. If I’m lucky, I’ll remember it forever. What could be better?”