The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A GIRL CALLED SEAGULL: CHAPTER 8

When I woke up, it was already daylight and I was in a cage.

I recognised the room of course. It was Mr Arden’s office. I shuddered to find myself back here, naked and in a cage. Yesterday hadn’t been a dream then.

I peered through half-closed eyes across the room. Mr Arden was sitting reading on his phone, probably the daily financial news. He looked well dressed and respectable — just your average successful financier businessman in a handmade Italian suit, drinking his orange juice and relaxing before another day of torturing the girl in the cage.

I wondered why I hadn’t seen this cage when I was in the room before. It was a solid fixture in the room and Mr Arden clearly hadn’t moved it in here overnight. I guessed it had had a throw over it of some kind. Briefly, I wondered about the previous occupant of the cage — what had happened to her, what Mr Arden did when he was sick of his play toys. But I didn’t really have time to worry about her. I had to worry about me.

Now that I thought about it, I was surprised I hadn’t noticed all the fittings in the room before. The overabundance of lounges with wide seating, perfect for fucking on from multiple angles. The profusion of tie points in the floor and the walls and the furniture. The strangely shaped furniture items — clearly sex furniture now that I was looking with fresh eyes. I could even see tie points in the ceiling, places they could suspend a girl or maybe a cage.

‘You awake, Seagull?’ Mr Arden said in his urbane voice.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t reply. He had taken away my voice. I could understand him, of course, but I wasn’t allowed to talk. The humiliation and the disempowerment of my situation flooded back through me all at once.

It wasn’t over. It wouldn’t ever be over, unless Mr Arden let me go, and I didn’t think he was going to do that.

‘If you’re awake,’ he said, sipping his orange juice, ‘you might as well start performing. On your back, girl. The men will be in later. You don’t want to disappoint them, do you?’

Whatever he had done to me yesterday still worked. It hadn’t magically vanished overnight. Forced by his control over me into unwilling compliance, I rolled onto my back, spreading my legs, my feet flat on the ground with my knees high, and started to rock my hips. Unbidden tears formed in my eyes as I started to speak the only words I was allowed to say.

‘I am aroused now,’ I said, my voice sounding husky from the men’s rough use of my throat yesterday. ‘I am aroused now.’

I was stiff and sore, I could feel how tender my cunt was, and yet I could also feel arousal growing in my body at the words I was forced to say and at the rocking, sexual motion in my hips. My unnaturally huge breasts filled my line of sight, reminding me constantly about how Mr Arden had changed my body with his will.

‘Good girl, Seagull,’ said Mr Arden, returning to scrolling on his phone. ‘Keep going. I’ll tell you when I want you.’

Time dragged by, as I kept rocking my hips, kept repeating the horrible phrases he had told me to say. He wasn’t listening. I knew he wasn’t. I felt demeaned by being forced to speak when no-one was listening. I knew what he was doing — he was proving to me all over again how unimportant I was. I had my stupid, crude, humiliating phrases that I had to speak, and no-one was even listening.

Eventually, Mr Arden rose and walked across, standing above me, looking down at my naked body with a humorous glint in his eyes. I was silent for a long time, and I felt myself burning with humiliation that he was allowed to just stand there and watch, while I had to keep grinding away with my hips, repeating my degrading, crude phrases.

‘I used to have to pretend dolls like you were real people,’ Mr Arden said eventually, smirking a little. ‘But then I worked out how to prove that you’re just holes for fucking. Such simple toys, built for men’s pleasure.’

‘I am ready for penetration,’ I said, forced to keep saying the humiliating words, forced to keep gyrating my hips embarrassingly as if I was begging for sex.

‘You’ll stay in this room, for as long as I keep you. I won’t keep you forever of course. The men will get bored with you in a few months or a year. They’ll ask me to make a new doll when they get sick of torturing you, and, like the kind benefactor that I am, I will oblige them. They won’t care where you go. They’ll be heartily sick of you and the mild amusement of your seagull noises by then.’

‘I am ready for your sperm,’ I said, as if completely ignoring what he was saying.

Shivers were running across my skin. I had thought that being in this room was the first fate that could befall me, but now I was also worried about what would happen when Mr Arden no longer wanted me.

‘I bet you are,’ said Mr Arden, responding to the crude things I was forced to say for the first time. ‘I’m going to play a game with you this morning. I’ll teach you just how little you’re worth, my darling.’

I wanted to cry but crying wasn’t in my programming. I cycled through my phrases, only to arrive at the beginning again.

‘I am aroused now,’ I said, feeling naked and horrifically vulnerable in my cage, with Mr Arden still watching me with a satisfied smirk on his face.

‘The men gave you a good report after last night,’ he said, satisfied. ‘It’s mostly my work, of course. You’re just the clay I work with, aren’t you, sweetheart?’

‘I am aroused now,’ I said, flushing with humiliation at my inability to answer him. I was also embarrassed as I felt how wet my pussy was now. I knew that if Mr Arden ran his fingers between my legs, he would feel me wet and dripping, my labia soft and swollen with arousal. He would take it as a sign that I was worth this, that I deserved this life.

Across the room, I saw the men from yesterday start to file in and I would have tensed in fear, except that I had to keep gyrating my hips and keeping my voice modulated to repeat the same three phrases over and over again, until forever.

‘I am aroused now,’ I said, watching the men as they drifted across the room.

‘How’s the slut this morning?’ asked Mr Carroll in his booming voice. ‘Still just as stupid? Has she learned any more words yet?’

‘They never learn more words,’ said Mr Arden, allowing himself a small, satisfied smile. ‘Not unless I help them. I don’t think this one wants to learn more words anyway. All she’s interested in is cock — getting as much of it as she can, as hard and rough as possible. Isn’t that right, darling?’

As luck would have it, I switched just then to my next phrase.

‘I am ready for penetration,’ I said, my voice even and soft, like an online assistant. I flushed hotly in embarrassment as the men around me burst out laughing.

‘See?’ said Mr Arden, sounding self-satisfied. ‘She just wants her holes to be filled by her masters.’

I don’t I thought miserably but I couldn’t say it. I didn’t even know if I wanted to say it, to be honest. I was so aroused that I felt hot and needy between my legs. I really wanted sex and I hated that these men would soon discover how wet I was, and take it as proof that they were right to keep me in a cage for them to fuck.

I couldn’t believe how turned on I was and how much I desperately wanted a man’s hard dick — any man, even one of these horrid men — inside me right now.

‘Get the bitch out,’ said Mr White, sounding bored. ‘We’ve got to do the board meeting, and I want some entertainment while we watch the mess the sales figures are this week.’

I quaked in trepidation as they unlocked the cage, pulling me out until I stood wide legged and ungainly on the carpet. Mr Arden had fastened a thick collar around my neck and he led me across the room by a short leash held high. I struggled to keep up with him, forced as I was to walk with my legs spread unnaturally, humiliatingly wide open.

Mr Arden pushed me forward across a piece of sex furniture, directly in front of his chair, so that I was kneeling on my legs, my butt high and my head on the floor. I knew he would be able to look directly inside my cunt with me here and I flushed with embarrassment.

Around us, the men sat down on the large comfortable lounges, forming a long oval around the low wide coffee table. They had each grabbed coffees from the minibar or brought them in from a cafe outside, and I felt humiliated all over again to watch them passing around a tray of small cakes. I hadn’t had any food yet this morning, and I tried to quench my sudden hunger.

‘I thought the meetings have been getting a bit dull,’ said Mr Arden. ‘So Seagull is going to lighten them up for us. Aren’t you, darling?’

I was silent, unable to speak. Behind me, Mr Arden leaned forward and ran a single, arrogant finger through my wetness. I gasped in shock to feel how sensitive I was.

‘My, my,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you a horny little girl. Getting ready to please the men I see. Very good. But let’s have some sport with you first.’

I didn’t know what he meant and I waited with trepidation. My face was facing to the side and from there, I could just see what he was doing. I gasped in anguish as he grabbed what looked like a police truncheon from beside his chair, and then I gasped again as I felt him probing with it at my exposed entrance.

I don’t want it inside me, I thought, but of course I had no choice. Mr Arden located my entrance and started pushing the truncheon into me, casually, firmly, as if I was nothing more than a slot to be filled.

One of the men had started his report and I listened to it, honestly unable to understand most of the financial technospeak he was using. The truncheon sat rigid inside me, Mr Arden probing deeper into my insides as he sipped his coffee. Finally, the man wound up his report and asked for questions.

‘Well, the sales are a mess,’ said Mr Arden bluntly, his voice uncompromising. ‘I’ve got some strategies I want to try. But first, I think we all know who’s fault this is, don’t we?’

‘That uppity bitch,’ swore one of the men and I flinched at the venom in his voice. ‘She was nothing when she started. We taught her the business. And now she’s undercutting us.’

‘Well, our rival is untouchable,’ said Mr Arden. ‘For now. Which is why I propose we work out our frustrations this morning on Seagull here. Our rival’s stand-in, if you will.’ He massaged my insides firmly with the truncheon as he spoke, his other hand resting casually on my butt, and I tensed in fear at the sheer control he had over me and my body.

‘How many thousand are the monthly figures down by, in your department?’ Mr Arden asked and the other man named a figure.

‘Well,’ Mr Arden replied, sounding satisfied. ‘That should do for a warm-up. You ready, Seagull?’

I couldn’t reply, of course, and in fact, he hardly gave me a chance. He pulled the truncheon out of me slightly only to thrust it hard back into me, driving its thick rounded end hard against my inner wall so that I gasped. It was a fucking motion, and so I had to squawk of course, and then again as he drove it almost immediately back into me like a piston.

Mr Arden set up a fast, rough rhythm, pounding the truncheon into me again and again and again, fast and vindictive, and I would have been screaming except that I had to make loud seagull noises instead. I was drooling across the carpet, my face strewn with tears, unable to comprehend what was happening, when Mr Arden finally stopped, and I gasped for breath, my insides feeling tender and pulverised, the truncheon a rigid intruder still rammed deep inside me.

‘Like that,’ said Mr Arden, sounding satisfied. ‘I made her quite robust yesterday, we can be rough with her without leaving any permanent damage. Not that it matters, of course,’ he said, ‘except that we don’t want to break our toy too early, do we gentlemen?’

There was a wave of whistles and cheers and the drumming of feet on the floor around the room, and I flinched at the feeling of how vulnerable I was, lying with my face on the floor and my hips high in their air.

‘I do want her to hurt,’ said one of the men. ‘Don’t make her too robust.’

‘Oh, trust me,’ said Mr Arden, jabbing the truncheon suddenly, viciously, into me like a spear into the ground, so that I squawked louded with my seagull noise. ‘Trust me, she’ll hurt. She’s feeling vulnerable and scared right now, because she doesn’t know how long,’ he jabbed the truncheon into me again and I squawked again, tears running down my face, ‘she doesn’t know how long we’ll do this for.’

Mr Arden sniggered a mean sounding laugh.

‘We own your holes, darling,’ he said, using his leverage on the truncheon handle to turn it in a big circle inside me as if stirring a large pot, demonstrating all over again how much power he had. ‘And we’re going to do what we want to them.’

There was another wave of cheers as I shivered all over in trepidation.

‘Next report,’ said Mr Arden. He prodded the truncheon viciously into me as the next man prepared to speak. ‘You might as well show us how good you are while he speaks, Seagull. Keep your voice low but say your phrases. Gyrate your hips for me. Give me a show.’

I flushed with humiliation but I had no choice. I started to say my phrases — I am aroused now — as I writhed my hips slowly as if fucking. Mr Arden left the truncheon inside me, holding it deep inside me, and so all the motion of my hips did was prove to me all over again how full I was and how deeply the truncheon was buried inside me. I hated it and it aroused me at the same time, my pussy growing hot and sensitive, aching to be penetrated properly.

The following hour or so was hell, as the men took turns to jam the truncheon into me, taking delight in my seagull noises.

I am squeaky toy I thought despairingly but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

They rammed the truncheon into me over and over again with vicious delight, enjoying my forced endless seagull noises. It was humiliating to be treated as if I was just a hole, a slot for mindless pounding. Even worse was how I stayed continuously aroused all the way through my torture and punishment, my cunt and pussy hot and eager, slippery and wet and begging for more. I thought they would never get sick of punishing me like this.

I orgasmed, of course, several times, some of the strongest orgasms I had ever had. The sensations flooded through me each time leaving me shivering in sheer surprise. I lay gasping, my head on the carpet, my cunt trembling with aftershocks.

‘I’ll set her up with a toy in her later on,’ said Mr Arden, sounding pleased. ‘After you’ve all used her, of course. I’ll strap her onto it, she won’t be able to escape. It’ll fuck her continuously for as much of the afternoon as I want, and she’ll keep orgasming, just like this. Showing us how much she loves being our toy. I love it when I can turn their own bodies against them.’

No, I thought. Please no.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Arden, as if he heard my thoughts. ‘Yes and yes and yes, my dear Seagull. Over and again. I want you to forget there was ever a time when you weren’t a silly doll in a cage, performing for your masters.’

I won’t forget, I thought, even though I already knew that I would forget. Even now, yesterday morning already felt like a dream I once had. Reality was my new, fuller breasts and my nakedness and these men’s rough voices and their brutal, cruel delight in their control over my body. As I looked around the room at their hungry, smiling faces, ready to treat me like their disposable pleasure toy, my old life already felt so incredibly far away.

‘Who wants to fuck her first today, gentlemen?’ asked Mr Arden, reminding me of yesterday. I knew he would ask it again tomorrow and the day after, until I lost count.

‘I’ll have a go,’ said one of the men, and he pulled the truncheon out of me, wrenching me dazed to my feet. The man who had spoken led me firmly towards the lounge, his hands hot on my skin, his eager erection clearly visible through his trousers.

I couldn’t remember the man’s name and in that moment, I knew there was no escape. They would all use me again and again, just like they had last night, and then I would go back into the cage until they wanted me again. It would all happen again tomorrow, and again the day after that, as long as the men kept wanting me.

I would be a silly little fuckdoll in a cage. I would be forever hot and aroused, wet and desperate for sex. I would repeat my crude phrases and I would answer to Seagull and squawk my ridiculous seagull noises, while the men punished me and hammered out their pleasure inside me, over and over again.