Master PC — Conditional Slavery
The handcuffs were a gag gift. When Heidi had opened the box, she hadn’t even been able to tell what they were at first—just two loops of dark purple fuzz. Then she lifted them out of the box, heard the clink of the chain, heard her friends whoop with shocked laughter. They all agreed that whoever had been her Secret Santa either knew her too well or not at all. There were a few dirty questions—who was she going to use them on? Would she lose the key once she had the guy trapped? Would she use a whip on him, too, or just withering sarcasm? Then attention moved to the next gift.
Heidi turned the handcuffs over in her fingers, felt the softness of the fuzz, and decided to ignore the warmth that bloomed in her stomach, the shallowness of breath when she held them. Into her purse they went. Once home, into the back of her sock drawer. Never—or rarely—to be thought of again.
So it was odd when she stood up, alone in her dorm room one evening, and fished them out of the drawer. It was odder when she switched off the lights, lit a candle, set it near her full-length mirror, and then peeled off her clothes.
Heidi didn’t particularly like looking at herself naked. She wasn’t ugly, she didn’t think, but she was certainly no model. Skinny but not slender, without much in the way of curves along her hips and thighs. A few acne scars, some weird discolorations. A frizzy mop of red hair. Heidi was a fairly critical person, of others and herself, and when she looked at her body all her mind could do was catalogue the imperfections.
Especially her breasts. These were a source of continual irritation to her. Her mother and sisters all had perfectly good breasts, more than a happy handful, and Heidi had waited throughout her teen years for her chest to suddenly realize its proper form and spring out into shape. Now in her twenties, she was still waiting.
So it was uncharacteristic of her to stand naked in front of the mirror, gazing at herself, running her fingers lightly over her skin. The soft glow of the candle helped a little, cloaking her flaws in shadow, giving her skin an amber tone. All right, enough of that; she decided to turn away
Except her body didn’t obey.
It was bizarre; nonsensical. Her limbs were controlled by impulses sent from her nervous system, which was controlled by her brain. Right? Heidi was an English major, not Bio, but she understood at least that much—or had thought she had. Because her brain was telling her legs to move, shouting at them to step away, and they just kind of … weren’t.
Instead her hands were lifting, holding the handcuffs. They closed one cuff over her right wrist. It felt so warm, so cozy, the soft pressure of the fuzzy down enfolding her wrist like a tight hug. Heidi felt a jolt in her stomach, like the warmth she’d felt when she first touched them but sharper, more lingering. Her traitor left hand adjusted the cuff, making sure it could move freely, then tightened it. Another bolt of warmth.
Then things got a little more serious as her hands reached up, high above her head, and threw the other end of the cuff over a pipe that ran from one wall to the other. Heidi turned her head up and watched in a combination of confusion, fear, and some third emotion she couldn’t quite understand as her hands connected the other cuff to her left wrist. Trapping her.
At once she regained control, as if her body had been taken over for this single purpose and was now set free. Free, of course, being a relative term, as her hands were shackled above her head. Heidi tugged at her bound hands, twisted her nude body to break away, but the handcuffs were well-made for a gag gift.
She was trapped. Someone had taken over her—taken her. Cuffed her and trussed her up, completely vulnerable, completely nude. All Heidi could do was to stare at her helpless body in the mirror, arms bound above her head, and wait to find out what they wanted to do with her. To do to her.
That warmth in her belly was spreading downward. The fear was keeping pace, though, making her lightheaded, roiling a swirl of emotions that had her shivering in the warm air. It never occurred to her to scream.
The door opened behind her, then softly shut. Heidi craned her head to catch a look at the intruder in the reflection of the mirror—a silhouette of a man. Tall, with broad shoulders. He stepped closer, one carpeted footfall at a time, pausing to put something down on her desk. Heidi could feel his presence behind her, the electric energy of his intentions tickling at her bare back.
The figure stepped closer, and the light of the candle showed his clothes, his shape—but not his face. The shadows refused to leave it, or maybe the light refused to show it, creating a soft and shapeless mask that hid his features.
The body that she could see, though, was impressive. His white shirt had two buttons undone, revealing a muscular chest with clear pectoral lines. The forearms beneath his rolled-up sleeves were large and tanned. His smell… she couldn’t tell if was wearing an aftershave, or if it was his natural aroma, but the sheer masculinity of his presence filled her small dorm room.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he reached a hand, very slowly, towards her back. Heidi pulled as far from his touch as the handcuffs would let her, which wasn’t far. His skin neared her skin. She imagined she could feel the air between them filled with a crackling potential. Finally he touched her, one finger only at the nape of her neck, and it was like cold lightning that sparked at that spot and raced through her nerves, through her skin, between her legs. She gasped.
The man ran his finger down her vertebrae, taking his time with every new inch he claimed. Heidi’s back arched, and her gasp turned into ragged breaths at the intensity of his feather touch. She had never in her life been so aware of her skin, of her body, of the reality of a single point of contact. Finally, after years of travel, his finger stopped just above the cleft of her butt cheeks.
The man leaned forward, and his breath pooled on the back of her neck. That breath was the opposite feeling from the touch of his hand—it was warm and full and it wrapped around her neck like a fur scarf. He spoke for the first time.
“I want to own you.”
“Wh- what?” Heidi’s senses were so overwhelmed at this point that the words were just sounds to accompany the feelings that were drowning her.
“I want…” and now his hands were on the back of her hips, large hands, soft and strong, and they slid around to the front of her waist, like he was taking hold of something he’d just purchased, “to own you. To possess you. I want your body, and your mind, and your soul, to be my property.”
At every word her pulse hammered more loudly—especially at the words like own, and possess, and especially property. These were some of the words that filled the stories she read, that she’d wrote but never posted, phrases that she whispered to herself mind each night to make her feel warm and wet and bad.
“You—you want…” Heidi struggled to form words, to get her head out of the fog so she could formulate a response to the most bizarre request she had ever received. “You want me to be, what? Your—” she swallowed “—your slave?”
“Yes, Heidi.” Now the man moved his hands up, sliding along her ribs, grazing the sides of her barely-there breasts, until they rested on her slanted shoulders. “I want you as my slave.”
God, his touch was amazing. Heidi wasn’t a virgin, but no man had ever made her feel so aroused and alive, certainly not with a simple touch. Everywhere his hands went, her skin felt baby-new, sensitive and vulnerable and taking in every sensation like it was the first time in her life.
But this—this was crazy. Some man who wouldn’t show his face, he uses some kind of mind control to make her chain herself up, then comes in and demand she give her entire life to him? Wants her to be some kind of—oh, God—some kind of sex slave? She was Heidi, goddammit. She was the one her friends turned to for advice. She was the sane one, the smart one, the one that registered for classes the first day and always met her professors for office hours.
She was going to be an author, for fuck’s sake! How was she supposed to write her novel if she spent her days chained to a bed, wearing some ridiculous skimpy lingerie, waiting for, what, for her Master to return so that she could worship his body, suck his cock, have him throw her onto her hands and knees and fuck her to screaming orgasm again and again—
“No!” Heidi said. She meant to shout, but it came out as a ragged gasp. “I am a person. I am a free person, a woman.” Heidi felt stronger as she kept talking, reasserting her identity. “It’s 2019, you you you asshole. Women are not slaves. You can’t just rape me and expect—”
“Rape?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m not going to rape you. I wouldn’t—I mean, that’s not going to happen.”
“Well, then, what is all this?” Heidi tried to use her head gesture at the entire situation—the handcuffs, the mirror, the candle, his presence. “Seems pretty rapey to me.”
“This is persuasion,” the man said, as he slid his hands up her arms, catching her hands and grasping them in his. “I am going to persuade you to give yourself to me. To give up your freedom, your choices, your body—to worship me. Devote your life to pleasing me and feeling the pleasure that submission brings. To call me… Master.”
At that last word, her body shivered again. Heidi tried to laugh, but it came out as a series of gasps.
“You’re going to convince me to be your slave. Negotiate or something, do a deal? That’s just… what the fuck? What could you possibly offer me that would be worth my entire life? Giving up my free will, everything I’d planned, to be your little fuck toy?”
He tightened his hands around hers and brought his body in close, until he was pressed all along her naked back. His mouth moved next to her ear and whispered.
“A kiss.”
“A kiss? That’s it? You’ll just give me a smooch and I’ll… I’ll…”
Abruptly he turned away from her, back to her desk. He had put something down when he entered the room, and now Heidi heard him typing, a quick clatter of keys then a sharp Enter. Nothing changed, not visibly, but the air in the room felt heavier—full of some kind of potential, like a pile of tinder before the blaze.
A moment to review his work, and then he returned. This time he stood in front of her. That same darkness clinging to his face kept her from seeing his features, but his scent filled her nostrils.
Heidi was still frightened, still aroused, but now a fascinated curiosity took over her emotions. A kiss? That’s all he needed? What kind of kiss could a man like this give—a man who could make her body disobey her, who could make her wetter than she’d ever been just with the touch of his hands.
She tilted her head up to his and half closed her eyes. Parted her lips. Whatever else happened, she wanted to feel this kiss. He leaned toward her, her breath quickening as the space between their lips got shorter and shorter—
And he missed. He came deliberately close, enough for her to feel his breath on her jaw, but then continued downward. Heidi was sure that there was a smirk behind that shadowy mask.
Past her neck, past her breasts. (Was he disappointed in her breasts?—she quashed the thought.) He stopped at stomach level, looking at her belly. Her belly—another of Heidi’s many dissatisfactions with her body. She was skinny enough now, but a fat phase in high school left her with some stretch marks, and little hairs tended to blossom near her navel when she didn’t shave, which was most of the time. No one needed to be spending time down there.
They sat that way for a moment, him crouched and her chained to the ceiling, and it felt like they were a pair of tandem skydivers before the jump. He kissed her stomach. It was a warm kiss, a firm kiss, and it came in just at the spot where her arousal and fear had been roiling in a knot. Sparks flew through Heidi’s nervous system, and she sighed in surprise and pleasure—until she felt something change.
It was the oddest feeling. Not painful, not exactly, but bizarre. Like her body was clay, shaped beneath the hands of an invisible sculptor. Her skin was shifting in ways that shouldn’t be possible. The man pivoted on a leg, still hunkered low but off to one side so that Heidi could see herself in the candlelight.
Her stomach looked amazing. Perfectly flat, with clear obliques and abdomen muscle lines. The skin was not just smooth, it was almost glowing, with a slight tan and not a hair in sight. This was the kind of stomach that celebrities paid six figures to trainers and plastic surgeons for. This was a three-hours-a-day-of-yoga stomach. And it was hers!
“What I’m offering you is a kiss—kisses—that will change your life,” the man said from her side. “I’m offering you a new you.”
“Oh my God,” Heidi mumbled. She wished her hands were free so she could run them over her new stomach.
“This is permanent, by the by. You can eat pasta and ice cream and, and whatever. Raw sticks of butter if you feel like it, every day. You’ll never gain a pound.”
“That is, uh, that is quite an offer.”
“If,” he ran a fingernail along the side of her taut abs, making her jerk her head up and hiss, “you submit to me.”
“Like I said, quite an offer. Never count a carb again. But—”
“Shhhhh. That’s just the beginning.”
And with that he kissed each leg, softly at the top close to the hip. The kisses were quick, with a loud “mwah”—he was having fun now, and the affectionate silliness seemed familiar to Heidi. She wished she could see his face, she was sure she knew him; but then her attention was drawn to what was happening to her legs.
Muscles grew where none had been before. The same beautiful tan covered the skin on each leg. The hair, which had been a tad thick (it had been a while since shaving had been called for) faded like mist in the sun. Heidi let her eyes travel luxuriously over each perfectly sculpted leg.
“So I never—I mean, if I decide to, you know, be enslaved—I never have to shave my legs again.”
“Not for your entire life.”
“Well this deal just got a lot better.”
He laughed, still crouched below her. The shadow mask lifted where his cheekbones hid beneath.
“If,” she clarified, reminding herself the bizarre stakes of this negotiation, “if I decide to give up my choices and my body and my free will and all of it to some shadowy wizard guy with a slave fetish and an inferiority complex. I don’t think I’ll throw away my razor blades just yet.
That shadow wizard hummed, a sort of low deep purr in his chest that showed he was enjoying the game. He pivoted smoothly on one leg, like a dancer, to squat behind her.
“When you are my property, that kind of comment will get you punished.”
“Punished? Really. Well, I can tell you—”
He kissed and spanked her ass at the same time. It was not a light tap: a full, open handed slap on her bare ass cheek that shocked her into silence with the pain. But with the pain came a bolt of electric pleasure, like a Taser of arousal that flooded her nervous system. It overwhelmed her senses, lifted every hair on her skin and left her incapable of thought for one white-hot second. Heidi’s vision swam while she felt the skin of her butt expanding and firming. She drew a ragged breath and tried to turn her body to see its effects in the mirror, but her would-be owner spanked her again, sending another rush of twinned agony and ecstasy through her changing body.
Then another. Another. Another. Another. Another.
After half a dozen spanks he stopped, letting her draw a ragged breath and take a moment’s break from the sensations that were overwhelming her body, wearing at her conscious mind like waves devouring a sandcastle. Heidi had almost come from her punishment. Certainly she had never been so aroused without coming before. The master stood and caressed her sore cheeks with his hands. It was like soothing aloe spread across her skin, erasing pain and leaving a warm, sleepy comfort in its place. Heidi gave an involuntary moan from deep in her throat.
“Something tells me,” he murmured in her ear, “you’re going to need punishing often.”
When she was able to get her brain working again, Heidi twisted her body as well as she could while handcuffed to the ceiling so that she could see what her ass had become. She was not disappointed. Perfectly rounded cheeks gleamed in the candlelight, with a tone and firmness that a Kardashian would envy. Clearly emblazoned on the nearest cheek was his handprint, limned in red, and just above that was a new tattoo. Stenciled in swooping italics, it proclaimed her “Property of” and then an unreadable word. He wasn’t going to give away the game until it played out.
Property of. Property of. She was going to be—she might be—someone’s property. To have her role in life branded on her flesh, the flesh that he owned and was re-shaping to fit his pleasure. She would be the property of his pleasure.
As Heidi struggled to order her thoughts into some kind of coherent order, the man continued the task of taming her. He took a loose handful of her frizzy red hair, the hair that she fought with daily to bring to some kind of order, usually giving up and pulling it into a sloppy ponytail with a quick twist of a hairband. He buried his face in it and took a long breath, taking in the scent of her. For a moment they stood there, in an unexpected moment of intimacy.
Then he kissed, and her hair shifted like a living thing. The kinks grew smooth, the strands softened. The ends grew softly away from her head, a red cat stretching its limbs after a nap. Frizz turned to silky waves that tumbled down her back in swirls. The new hair reached the top of her butt and cascaded over her shoulders in a glorious crimson, shining in the candlelight.
All the while, the man who would be Master kept his face folded in her tresses, neither moving nor saying a word.
Somehow watching him there, almost vulnerable, actually increased her desire for him. But it also introduced a new complicated element. He wasn’t just a taker, a tamer, he was—what? Did he need her? What made him slow down his magic act, relent in the cadense of sensory assaults so that he could have a quiet moment alone with the scent of her hair?
“Um, listen,” Heidi began. He interrupted her, which was good, because she had no idea what she was going to say next.
“Don’t say no yet,” he said. He lifted his face from her hair and looked at her in the mirror. She could feel his eyes meet hers, even behind the shadow mask. “Just—just wait. Let me show you all the conditional modifications. The changes, I mean. Everything I have to offer you. When that’s done, then you can say no or yes, or go to hell, or whatever.”
“Ok. Yeah. Ok.” Heidi smiled a little, crookedly. “I kind of want to see what’s next.”
He took a deep breath, and again he was the master—confident and in total control. “You do. Trust me, you. Because the next part is my favorite.”
The master stepped around in front of her and took her breasts (tiny, pathetic little lumps) in his warm hands. He stroked them for a moment, running his fingers down from the tops and along the bottom curves. Then he leaned down, ever so slowly, and placed his lips over one nipple. A flick of his tongue sent a small jolt through her chest. Heidi watched, almost panting with arousal and anticipation, but nothing happened yet. The master moved his head to the other nipple and gave it a similar kiss and lick. He cupped her breasts softly from each side, fingers closed, palms a few inches away.
They started to grow. Slowly, almost teasingly, Heidi’s breasts expanded outward, upward, gaining in size and definition like bread rising in a hot oven. First they filled his cupped hands, a tide filling a pool. Her nipples, already hard, grew to the size of a marble, and as they touched his palms Heidi gasped—they were incredibly sensitive, with the lightest touch sending tremors through her torso. Her new breasts kept pushing outward, and the master’s hands now were not big enough to hold their fullness; his fingers splayed apart as her new flesh strained against them.
Heidi kept thinking of fruit. Her mealy little half-apples had become oranges, then grapefruits. Sweet and succulent, tempting the hand to touch and the mouth to taste, the bounty of her bosom grew to honeydew melons. This was the size she’d fantasized about, that she’d toying with the idea getting implants to reach; enough to catch the eye with a low-cut shirt.
But the master clearly wasn’t interested in her preferences. He had his own ideas for what breasts would fit his slave, would wrap around his cock, would bounce in his face as he fucked her against a wall. And he wanted bigger.
Far past the point where his hands could cover, they grew. Past the point where she could no longer see her perfect new stomach and legs, they grew. Past the point of store-bought bras, past the point of comic book femme fatales, past the point of anyone looking her in the eye for a sustained five minutes, they grew.
The master stepped aside to let her watch the final seconds, letting his fingers lightly trace the sides of her tits. Heidi watched her new form take its final shape in her candlelit reflection. Once she refused to look at her breasts in the mirror, and now she was transfixed, aroused even further just by the sight of her own body.
When each breast was half of a watermelon in size, they slowed to a stop. Each nipple was an inch long, with pink aureoles like sand dollars. And they were perfectly firm, not a hint of sag. Not the artificial firmness of implants; Heidi’s breasts were perfectly, magically, hugely real.
She had dreamed, she had fantasized, she had even priced out plastic surgery options, but she had never thought that anyone would just walk in and hand her—force upon her—the body of a sexual goddess. But now it was hers.
No. Now it was his. That was the condition, right? These new breasts, new legs, new hair, with no dieting or shaving (or split ends, probably)—she only got all these things if she became a slave. No choices, no future, no ability to say no. Just a fuck toy, a slut to be used by her master whenever he wanted to enjoy her. God, that sounded amazing. The kind of life she’d imagined while touching herself in bed, dreaming of chains and collars and endless degradation, her slippery fingers a poor substitute for a Master’s cock. But those were just fantasies. She had a life to live. She had a book to write, a degree to finish, a thousand little plans for adulthood. It couldn’t be worth it to give all that up, not even for -
“You’re still fighting,” the man said. He massaged her breasts, sliding his hands across the vast expanse of flesh, and Heidi moaned against her will. Goddamn, her new tits felt good. “I like that. Nothing worth having is easy.”
“I just… I mean, they’re really nice,” Heidi gasped. “Really, really nice. But… could we meet in the middle? We could date, or or I’ll fuck you once a week—ohhh god that feels good—ok, three times a week—”
He twisted her nipples, hard. Heidi’s words were lost from her mouth in a stunned inhale at the sensation that flew through her. A shock of pleasure and pain galvanized her body. The master kept twisting, pulling upwards so the entire mass of tit flesh was pulled away from her body. It was like the feeling when he had spanked her, but more so, and it went on and on. Heidi’s back arched, her head flew back, and she hung suspended in that lightning strike of ecstasy for an eternal five seconds.
Then the master let go, and she collapsed, sagging against the handcuffs that were the only thing keeping her vertical.
“No,” he growled. “You will be my property. You will live to be fucked by me, to be filled by me, to devote your body, your mind, your soul to my pleasure. That is the condition for all of this. Be my beautiful, wanton slave… or be back to your normal self.”
“buh… buh… gehhh…”
“But,” he said sprightly, shifting his mood with the fickleness of a candle flame, “you still have time to make your decision. To understand all the conditions of your enslavement. I’ve got three more rabbits to pull out of my hat.”
“ka… kay…”
And then he was kissing her. A long, slow, imaginative kiss that started softly, just two sets of lips meeting in the darkness, then strengthened. Without conscious thought Heidi returned the kiss, opening her mouth, tilting her head into him, and even darting her tongue between his teeth. His breath, like everything else about him, was delicious. It felt so wonderful to have a real moment of intimacy, after all the confusion, that Heidi whimpered a little when he drew away.
Her face in the mirror was different. It was difficult to tell at first in the dim light of the candle, because she was still unmistakably Heidi. But her cheekbones were more prominent, catching the orange glow. The traces of acne were gone, her eyebrows looked freshly tweezed—overall it looked as if a professional makeup artist had given her a natural look, with full eyelashes and a delicate blush. The most obvious change was in her lips, which were blood red and twice their previous size, each plumped up in a lushness that, to Heidi’s eye, begged for a cock between them.
She ran a tongue along those lips, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. “So,” she murmured, entranced with the sight of her own mouth moving, “no more makeup, I suppose.”
He shrugged and traced the curve of her cheekbone. “You can if you want. I don’t need that much control. But this,” his finger gently massaged her lower lip, “is your just-out-of-bed face now.”
Without thinking Heidi opened her mouth and rolled his finger inside with her tongue. She sucked on it for a moment, then, eyes locked on his shadowy face, she bit down. He drew in a sharp breath between his teeth. One hand reached down to adjust his jeans where, she was oddly satisfied to note, a prominent bulge was making itself known.
“That’s the kind of fire I like in my slaves,” he whispered. “But,” he withdrew his finger, tracing a line of her saliva across her cheek, “there are still more conditional commands to execute. I think you’ll like this next one. Even more than the breasts, I think that this one. Will suit. Your. Fancy.” Cupping her face with both hands, he gave her a smooch on the forehead.
Heidi waited for the now-familiar feeling of her flesh remaking itself. But nothing happened. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her with expectant puzzlement. Was this another conditional command? Strange choice of words, really. He hadn’t actually commanded her to do anything, for all of his master/slave talk. So this must be a command to someone—or something—else. She’d heard him typing on a keyboard before he started in on the body transformations, and it seemed unlikely that it was unrelated—who would bring a laptop to a magical seduction (or enslavement)?
The most common thing that someone would carry around and type on is a laptop. So assume it’s a laptop, pending further information. If the laptop was necessary for his powers to function, then either it’s a focus for the effect, like the wands in Harry Potter, or he’s communicating with someone else who is actually the one exercising this influence, or the laptop itself is the source of the transformation.
As a focus, it’s not a very good one, since focuses (at least in fantasy books) are supposed to be simple objects that help the user concentrate on a single task, like see the future or do Expelliarmus or whatever. So discard that for now.
If he’s communicating with someone else, then one: he’s putting on a big fake show of being the tough guy master if he’s not actually the one with power; and two: he’s taking a huge risk of losing control of the situation and not being able to respond quickly. Since everything about his attitude (and the throbbing in her vagina) tells her that he is absolutely, completely, 100% in charge of this situation, she can discard that idea as well.
(Heidi noticed with a separate corner of her mind that even as she puzzled this out, she was inhumanly aroused—but she had no difficulty concentrating on both at the same time).
So the laptop itself is magic. A kind of master PC. More likely, it’s an ordinary laptop that has some kind of special application or chip that he acquired. Heidi wasn’t a computer person, but “conditional command” sounded like a coding term. He’d written a set of algorithms before he came into her room that were triggered by him kissing specific parts of her body. Now that… that was interesting. It meant that the man who was proposing to spend a lot of time with her in the future had a program that could change people’s bodies, maybe even their minds. Come to think of it, there hadn’t been any overhead pipes in her room, conveniently placed to handcuff herself to. Why would anyone put that in a bedroom? So this master PC of his could create physical objects, too. Were there any limits to what it could do?
Her master had a god in a machine. And maybe, if she were a very good slave… maybe he would let her use it, too. A new wave of arousal washed through her, unconnected to anything she was physically feeling.
“That’s a hell of a program you got yourself,” Heidi said.
The master gave a surprised laugh. “That worked better than I’d intended.”
“I think it worked just right.”
“It’s not just the intelligence, by the way. Your focus is perfect now; no more procrastination or distraction. Anything you want to work on—a paper, some class reading,” he paused, “a novel. You can just sit down and write. Goodbye writers block, goodbye tabbing to social media. You’ll be like a hawk hunting prey.”
This—this—holy God. Holy fucking God. Her hours of frustration, locking herself in her room until she hit a word count. Her endless excuses to her advisor about lack of progress. Her hating herself for always wanting to be writer but never fucking sitting down and fucking writing—they could be gone. Heidi could finally get the words in her head out on the page.
It was the most incredible gift anyone had ever offered her. And it could only have been offered by someone who knew her well. Who the hell was this man who would be her master? Someone a knowledge of computers and a huge breast fetish, but that didn’t narrow things down much. A man with this kind of power could have anyone he wanted, but he’d chosen her. Heidi was no one’s idea of a wanton slut, and no stranger would pick her out of a crowd. He had to be someone who had nursed an attraction to her but hadn’t acted on it until now, until the moment when he could be in complete control, could offer her everything as long as she offered him everything back.
“Way to sweeten the pot, Matthew.”
The man gave a surprised cough. “Oh—wow. That’s working a lot better than I’d intended.”
“My mind… I can remember every line of the play I read last week. God, there’s subtext I completely missed. I also missed—oh, you were hitting on me, weren’t you? At that Halloween party. When you were explaining your costume, all fumbly and stammering.”
“Ok, well, we don’t need to get into that—”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even pick up on it. It never occurred to me, I mean my mind doesn’t think that way. That people might want me.”
“Now everyone will want you,” Matthew said. He traced his hands down her face, over he breasts, down her sides. “Everyone who sees you will fantasize about you. But you’ll be mine.”
“Hmmmm,” Heidi hummed in pleasure. “But I haven’t agreed yet.”
“Not yet.”
“Let me see your face.”
“No.” Suddenly shy.
“You’re asking me to give myself to you, Matthew. To sell myself into slavery. I want to see your face first; the face that you want me to worship.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Master. Please. Let me look at you.”
He stepped away and she heard him click twice. Then he returned and stood behind her. There was Matthew, just as she’d always known him, but improved. He was taller, for a start, with muscle definition he’d never had before. A softness in his face was gone, leaving movie star cheekbones and a cleft chin. More than any of these changes, what registered was a difference in his bearing, in the set of his eyes—eyes that knew they could have anything (or anyone) they looked at.
“Hell of a program,” she said again, drinking in the vision of masculinity he’d made himself into. The two of them looked right, in the reflection—him standing strong and virile, with her voluptuous form chained helplessly to his pleasure.
“It can tell me things, too,” Matthew said, reaching around to knead her breasts. Heidi leaned her head back against his broad chest. “It told me your fantasies. The things you think about at night. The places you go—on your knees, chained in a cage, captured and tamed and used. It told me that you need to be owned.”
“What a clever little machine.”
“It is.” He circled around in front of her, then ran a line of kisses down her chest, down her belly, down to the softness between her legs. “And it has one last trick.”
Her pussy, petals already wet and open with need, thrummed at the nearness of him. Slowly, slowly, Matthew licked along the outside of her labia. Her pubic hair fell away, leaving her most intimate flesh completely bare for him to taste. As Heidi moaned and rocked against her restraints he dipped his tongue into the center of her needy pussy. With long, languorous motions he explored the inside of her lips, sending her into raptures of exquisite bliss. Her moans echoed in the space of her room. Whatever new intelligence she’d been gifted took its leave as her mind was engulfed in wave after wave of pleasure
Then he kissed her clit.
Nothing that Heidi had ever felt could compare to the ecstasy of that kiss. Every nerve in her body, every inch of her flesh, her very bones sang. Her mouth was open and she was probably screaming, but hearing was impossible. Sight was impossible. Thought was impossible. The only thing that existed was her master’s mouth on her clit.
When the infinite moment passed and he pulled away, she collapsed, held up only by the handcuffs on her wrist. The pain was a delicious counterpoint to the warm ice that quaked through her. Her vision slowly cleared, and Heidi blearily raised her head.
“Hu… how… how did, how did I not come? That was more than, than anything I’ve ever…”
“Slaves get to come,” her master said, and gave another lick. Heidi screamed as at another tsunami of pleasure.
“P- p- puh- please. Please fuck me. Fuck me fuck me fuck me I need it please fuck me I’ll do anything.”
“Slaves get fucked,” her master grinned. He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his muscled chest to her hungry gaze. Heidi genuinely wondered if she was going to go insane, if her mind would just snap from the level of lust and need she felt for his body. If she would have a psychotic break from traumatic horniness.
Her master slid off his pants and underwear, and ohhhh holy shit that was a nice penis. That was… wow. Heidi had never thought much of penises one way or another, they were generally funny looking things that were useful in certain situations and kind of a bother the rest of the time. But this. This was a work of art. It was long, thick, and with a proud vein running up its erect length. The head was perfect, the shaft was perfect, the balls were perfect. She could stare at it for hours, lost in its wonder like a Renaissance painting. But she didn’t want to look at it, she wanted to feel it—in her mouth, in her pussy, between her breasts, everywhere, all the time. This penis was her new obsession.
“I’ll be a slave,” she babbled. “Your slave. Absolutely. You be the master, I be the slave, forever and ever, just please please please please fuck me, fuck me with that beautiful cock.”
“Hmm,” her master mused. He stepped behind her, and she couldn’t see his miraculous dick anymore, but huuugghhhh she could feel it pressing against her ass. It was so close, so close, just a little bit lower and it would be inside her pussy. “I don’t know. You didn’t seem all that interested before.”
“I was stupid before. Fucking idiot. You made me smarter, right? Well, smarter me realizes that the obvious best way to go is to be your slave. So let’s do it. Fuck your slave. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I should find someone who’s a little more eager.”
“Oh I am so eager, Christ, I’m practically dripping, I need you so bad.”
“Come on, Heidi. If you’re going to be a famous author, you’ll need to be better with words than that.”
Heidi took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Rifled through her memories of unposted stories. After a moment she opened them and locked her gaze with her Master.
“Master, I am your slave. I belong to you. Chain me, collar me, tie me. Whip me when it pleases you, kiss me when it pleases you. I love it all. I love being totally dominated by you. I love being your plaything, your fucktoy, your personal whore. You have tamed me, you have broken me, and I need to be ridden. All night, every night.
“For the rest of my life, all I will want is to give you pleasure, to be used by you in any way you can imagine. I will be totally obedient to you—your pet, your worshipper, your own private sex addict. Because I am addicted to you. Addicted to your cock, addicted to your hands, addicted to your lips. Addicted to your control.
“This body you’ve given me, I give to you. My tits will cover your face, envelop your cock, pillow your head. My mouth will never, ever stop longing for the taste of your cock. My pussy will milk you dry again and again for as often as I am lucky enough to be fucked by you. I’ll learn every Kama Sutra trick to keep you endlessly surprised with the bounty of my body.
“And I will be voracious. Your penis is a masterpiece; you really outdid yourself in your design work there. It’ll be addiction, my obsession—if I go 24 hours without it inside my pussy, down my throat, or rubbed off between my enormous tits I’ll go into withdrawal. You’ll wake up to blowjobs—long, slow, warm mornings with your devoted slave under the sheets, sucking to you to wakefulness. You can hogtie me on your bed and let me spend hours exploring your shaft with my tongue. I’ll beg you to fuck my tits, my mouth, to pull on my hair and punish me for what a greedy slut I am.
“Your ultimate guarantee of my obedience is my slavery to the pleasure that only you can bring.
“When we go out—every room we go into, I’ll be the most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most scandalous woman there. Every man will want me, but everyone will know that I belong to you. I’ll crawl under tables at restaurants to suck your cock. I’ll fuck you in movie theaters. I’ll cross every social boundary, because the only moral law of my existence is to make you happy.
“You want to chain me up? I’ll be in bondage for you. I’ll be your helpless, bound slut, unable to escape. I’ll go out with my hands handcuffed behind me under a coat, so you can feel me up at your pleasure. I’ll spend all day tied up and blindfolded in your bedroom, stewing in my arousal, waiting for you to come home and take your reward. I’ll clean your apartment while gagged and hobbled and with my hands tied together. You made that pipe in my room, right? So you can create the most intricate bondage gear—I’ll be locked in a stockade for you to take from behind, I’ll be mummified in plastic wrap with just a hole for your beautiful beautiful cock, I’ll, I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll research stuff online and come up with new ideas every week. You will never get bored of fucking your worshipful slut.
“What can that machine of yours do? If it can mess with minds, then the role-play opportunities are endless. You can make me think I’m the slutty schoolgirl who’ll do anything for extra credit. I’ll be the wild Amazon woman that you hunt and trap and tame. The police woman who pulls you over but ends up wearing the handcuffs. Your teacher that was too hard on you, but now you’re teaching the lesson. Anything you lust for, I can be. Things you’ve never even thought of, I will be. And I will always be your slave.
“Just fuck me, Master. Please, please, please, fuck me. You have turned me into a horny slave who lives for your cock, and right now your cock is so close to my pussy, so just fuck me fuck me fuck me I’m your toy your slut your worshipper your property please own me please use me own me own me fuck me fuck me Master I’m yours forever—”
And then her Master took her.