Anger Issues

by TylerRose.

“You should be able to see.”

  “I can.”

  Material pulled up under the front of the collar, he snapped the seam closed. He took her by the wrist toward the chair, pointed her to kneel.

  “When you are encased, you have no identity,” he said looking at the all but featureless face. “You are a thing that lives and breathes. An object to be played with. You wanted to disappear? You have. All that is required is your compliance. Not just to be fucked. You may be told to toy with another of the girls. You may be given a stick or a strap and told to beat one.”

  “I have never—“

  His fingers over her mouth stopped her.

  “When you are encased, you do not speak. That includes when we are alone. Each day I send you into the Manor, I will attach a tag to your collar.”

  He held up a nametag with the word Spite on it.

  “I think it most fitting. Nod if you agree.”

  She snorted a chuckle and nodded.

  He opened the ring with a sideways twist and put it onto the collar. A twist closed and it would hold

  “In future, you will have other encasements. Some will expose your breasts or have removable panels. Some hoods will have open mouth or open eyes. They’ll all be made of cloth like this one. Latex and leather are too hot. You’ll wear this whenever you go into the Manor. Eventually, we will auction off the right to remove the encasement and have you. For now they can only touch as far as the fabric allows. Only I, the President, and the Warden have the keys to your zippers. Other than when you are told to, do not interact with the other girls. They will be told not to speak to you or try to touch you. Only the members can, and employees as necessary. Obey any employee that needs to take you someplace. Nod yes if you understand. Shake your head no if you have questions.”

  She nodded yes.

  He clipped a chain leash to her collar ring and got up out of the chair. She went with him easily through the short corridor, into the big one. They went into the airlock and through the library. Several members were present, playing cards, sipping their drinks, staring at her in curiosity

  as she passed through.

  “Gentlemen,” he nodded a greeting.

  “House Master,” they replied.

  The House Master turned left at the bright corner to stop at an elevator. Outside the door, she could see the cement pad of a patio, the awning of the swimming pool.

  They went down one floor, came out to turn left again. Into the fourth door on the left, the last door, and she first saw a naked man on what looked like a surgical table. Four bare cinderblock walls, cameras in every corner, cameras in the middle of every wall. As her eyes swept them, the red lights came on. Live feed or being recorded?

  He took her around the table and she saw two steps up to a second table. On it was a steel surgical tray with a butcher knife very much like her own. She saw the straps of leather with a smallish dildo through the ring.

  Had they been to her apartment? Of course they had.

  “Up. Kneel on the platform.”

  She climbed up, knelt in the middle, saw the man was in a bit of a stupor. Drugged, most likely. The House Master came up, knelt close behind. Reaching around with both hands, forcing her to bend lower, he opened the lock on her crotch zipper. He whispered close to her ear so only she would hear.

  “Do not answer me.”

  The lock came away. Placed with his right hand on the tray with the key still in it, he opened the zipper to grip her cunt. Big, warm hand cupping her entire sex in his palm and fingers. Arm around the front of her shoulder, hand holding nearly her entire neck, he held her upright against him.

  “Look at him. How many times did you practice it?” he asked. “How many times did you envision killing him?”

  He picked up the dildo in the straps, brought it around to rub against her puss.

  “How many times did you ride a cock strapped onto a big stuffed bear and practice killing him?” he asked, the sliding motion working to get her hips moving a little bit. “Does it get you hot just thinking about killing him?”

  She went up far enough that he could slip the dildo into her. Groaning, she lowered herself.

  “I guess it does. Is this what it takes for you to want to have sex?” he asked, reaching down from behind to work the dildo in and out of her. His other gripped a tit. “You have to have a man in front of you ready to be killed?”

  She came with a sudden groan. The dildo pulled out entirely and he dragged her backwards to the steps and lifted her down around her chest. He took her quickly through a door in a side wall, into the third room in the row. It contained only a sheet-covered bed and eight more cameras.

  He bent her over the bed and put on the harness over his pants. Lifting her up onto her knees on the surface, he remained standing. Thrusting the dildo into her fast and hard, she needed less than half a minute to start fucking him back. She had good timing, their bodies slapping together but the sound muffled by her body suit and his slacks.

  When she gave herself a good cum, he reached to the lock on the back of her neck. Zipper down, he pushed the sides open to reveal her back. Belt out of his pants, he brought it down to start thrashing her back. Shock of impact and a little shriek, but the belt wasn’t coming down very hard.

  “Don’t stop. Keep going,” he told her.

  The front of his slacks became dark in spots from her profuse wetness. He let her go for a good ten minutes, until her legs were beginning to tire. A hand to the back of her neck, he pinned her down.

  “Stop.”

  He zipped up the suit again, locked it in place before pulling the strap-on out of her. A push and her hips fell over to the bed. Lifting her knee, he zipped the crotch and locked it.

  “Stay there. Do not get off the bed.”

  He left through the side door, the lights going out when the door closed. She was in pitch blackness except for the red glow of the cameras. They were still on, watching her. A few minutes and the door opened. In the shaft of light, lit from behind, she could not tell if it was the House Master or not.

  “Sit up.”

  Said as he approached the bed. Yes, the House Master. He slid a soft, pillowy blindfold down over her head and tightened the strap to secure it. He walked away to open the door again. It closed some seconds later and she was certain there was someone else in the room.

  On some unknown, unspoken signal, she felt the bed give all around her. Hands. So many hands. Large, strong, male hands that slid over her everywhere they could reach. Under her legs, lifting her knees, down her thighs to her crotch, over the zipper. So long as the zipper remained locked, they could do nothing more to her than feel.

  And strike, she realized as a hand came down to slap one of her tits. The silky material muted the sensation. She could feel hands, but not the roughness of skin, not the callouses of a man who worked with his hands or the softness of someone who did not. Gentle hands massaged her foot, unkind hands smacked her breast. She tried to count how many were on her at any one time, but kept losing track. One would leave, another would arrive. Maybe the same hand, maybe not.

  “Is it good?” the House Master asked near her right ear.

  She remembered in time not to speak, nodding yes instead as fingers found her nipples and flicked them back and forth. Such a soft, sinking feeling overcame her, surges of arousal, ending in a surprised yelp when the fingers pinched hard.

  “Should one of them fuck you?” he asked, a fingers leading her hand to the side to stroke a hard shaft.

  Couldn’t have been his. His cheek was against hers. He was at the head of the bed, in the command position. Red collar meant she would not be killed. They could not really harm her…could they?

  She nodded her head yes, liking the feel of a cock through the gloves of her suit. She was dying to be fucked, those few minutes with the dildo not nearly enough to satisfy anything.

  Fingers picked up the lock at the top of her puss, inserted the small key, opened the zipper while other
hands parted her legs wide to see the pinkness of her sex. Cool air to hot, wet flesh, and she shrieked fully with the surprise of a mouth and tongue. Several male chuckles from all directions. At least four or five, not counting the House Master, who was opening the snaps at the front of her neck.

  He pulled the bottom edge up through the collar to reveal her mouth. Hands lifted her, turned her over onto her knees. A hand grasped her by the collar to pull her face first into a pair of balls.

  “Suck it.”

  For the first time in her life, she had a cock going in both ends. For the first time in her life, she wanted it badly enough to do whatever she was told.

  The one behind her finished with a groan and a couple quick jerks and another took his place. He slipped gently but persistently into her anus, not stopping until he was fully in. The cock in her mouth started to slide in and out, as she was half-screaming her discomfort and unable to suck. It used her throat like the one behind her used her anus. When he came, another cock filled her mouth.

  Around and around it went until at least four ejaculated down her throat and at least six ejaculated into her puss or ass. She lost count. As they finished, they stepped back. The hands were fewer, until there were none and her only stimulation was from behind. When he finished, she was allowed a moment to rest before a very gentle pair of hands turned her over onto her back and a tongue delved deep into her to scoop out dollops of semen.

  Soft tongue on bruised, tender flesh had her whimpering. She’d never been so attended before, and managed another climax when the mouth closed around her clitoris for a pulsing suck.

  The gentle mouth went away. A blanket covered her.

  “Rest.”

  “I need a toilet,” she said at once.

  Silence for several seconds.

  “Wait there. Don’t move.”

  The door opened and closed. A sound of plastic bags. A wet cloth wiped over and around her clit. She let out a peep of a shocked yelp when a tube went into her urethra. A catheter. The draining sensation of a bladder emptying, but not the satisfaction of relieving herself. A minute of lying still and the tube pulled out.

  “I have to defecate!” she said more insistently.

  The blindfold came off so she could see to walk.

  “The toilet is in the corner.”

  She looked, saw a straight pipe with a seat on top. She’d not seen it before. Turned around to sit, she pulled the zipper as wide as she could without ripping anything. Her bowels moved, ejecting semen and fecal matter, lubricant and her own anal secretions. An unhappy shriek sounded several feet beneath the floor, startling her.

  “Someone’s down there?” she asked the House Master. “I just shit on someone?”

  He stepped over to her, lifted her chin, re-snapped the hood. Finger and thumb on her chin, he held her face tilted upward.

  “You are a gold mine, Spite. The encasement suit and riding the dildo while contemplating killing someone; a gangbang; a cream pie; then a catheterization. And now a scat video as well. We’ve gotten five live videos out of you tonight alone and those will all be available tomorrow for renting and purchase in perpetuity.”

  “So hundreds of people have watched me do everything since we came into the other room.”

  “Not hundreds. Thousands. Mostly men. They watched just about everything. They have no idea who you are. Killing your uncle did not make it to the news media. You are completely anonymous to them. The men who were here don’t know you by your face either. Almost none of the members have seen you. So finish up and let’s go.”

  “Where to now?” she asked.

  “Enough talking. You’re not supposed to speak at all when encased, remember,” he said, walking away toward the other door in the room.

  The mask concealed the flash of anger in her eyes. Spite. Yeah, good choice for a name for this faceless thing she’d become in the suit. So many meanings to one word. Anger, defiance, to be contrary.

  She saw wet wipes, used one for her bottom and then one to wipe her hands with. She’d wash soon as she could. Reaching him, she stood still while he put the leash back onto the collar.

  The door opened into that blank corridor. Turning right, passing two doors, they got into the elevator to ride up the one floor. They took the same path back to the airlock. He left her in her room with an order to rest. She could shower if she wanted to or wait until morning.

  “Take off the suit. Your work for the day is done,” he said, unlocking the neck and dragging the zipper down.

  She waited until the entire thing was off before speaking. “I’m hungry. I burned off all my dinner. Can I have something? A bowl of cereal, maybe?”

  “I’ll have something brought for you,” he said, removing the name tag.

  “Will I always be filmed?” she suddenly asked.

  “Not when you are in the main body of the Manor or any of the private bedrooms. You may be told to masturbate here. That will be broadcast and recorded. Anything that happens in the rooms below may be. Not necessarily everything. Enough questions. Whether you are or are not being broadcast when you are used or played with is irrelevant to you.”

  He left her standing where she was, without ordering her to the spot. She realized he was right. It didn’t matter if she was being watched.

  She took a blanket from her bed to the sofa and turned on the screen with the remote control she found on the end table. A new icon was on the screen. Clicking on it took her to a menu of movies that she could watch and a search function that let her look for others. No current news programs, however. She selected a movie she’d not seen in a long time and settled in to watch with Chutney stretched out on top of her belly and chest.

  A few minutes and the door opened without a knock or an order to go to the spot. A guard wheeled in a cart, placed the tray on her table and another suit in the cubby hole. The second waited at the door while she held onto Chutney to prevent the cat from running out the door.

  “You are to turn off the light and go to bed whenever you’re ready. If it grows too late, you’ll be told to go to bed,” he told her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Door closed, she got up to see what she’d been brought. Under the dome were two pieces of buttered toast with a small dish of peanut butter, a bowl of her favorite chocolate cereal, and a container of cold milk.

  Fucked in all three orifices until she was too sore to want more and rewarded with two of her favorite late night snacking foods. Not horrible. She spread the peanut butter, gave Chutney a bit of it to enjoy, poured the milk over the cereal, and took plate and bowl to the sofa to continue watching the movie she’d paused.

  When the movie was over, she turned off the lights and went to sleep on the sofa.

  The headache started sometime during the dark of early morning.

  Chapter Three

  “Is she better today?” the House Master called to ask the doctor.

  Four headaches in six days was concerning, and he had to wonder if she really was closer to death than anticipated.

  “She is. Hungry and alert. I would like to be able to scan her head without sending her to the hospital for an MRI. I understand the Celestial Congress’ medical centers have a smaller machine. Can we look into getting one? I would be able to track the growth and shrinkage of the tumors on a daily or weekly basis. Perhaps even predict which ones are getting ready to fire.”

  “I’ll make inquiries. Give me some time.”

  “Thank you, House Master.”

  He turned on the screen to watch her receive her orders for the day and take her shower.

  Several days after her ten man gangbang, she was fully recovered and ready to be put to work again. She would have been two days earlier, but headaches kept her in bed. She may have been able to fake it, but Chutney tapping her cheek and chirruping worriedly could not be faked.

  Hank realized what she was doing. She had bent over and parted her feet and then parted her buttocks with her hands to allow the
water spray to land directly on her anus. For more than a few seconds. The expression on her face was one of pleasure. Interesting.

  The intercom beeped. He pressed the button out of habit, very much enjoying watching Mally in her personal pleasure.

  “Yeah,”

  “We finally have a response on criminal records you were waiting for. Solicitation, dropped. That was a month or so ago. She was also named plaintiff in a rape case six months ago, but refused to prosecute. I’m printing it out for you now.”

  “Thank you, Sophie.”

  She brought it in a few minutes later. Mally was out of her shower with her hair up in a towel, checking out the suit that had been left for her. It had edged slits in the chest to bring her breasts out. There was no zipper in the crotch. Instead, the entire section was open. The hood had mesh eye spots, a slit for her nose so she could breathe easier without her face getting hot, and an open mouth.

  The message was clear. She would be open and available for use.

  She sat to her supper and Hank brought the page up to read a very odd story that didn’t make any sense. Undercover police agent had responded to a personal ad to meet for supper. Sex happened and she was arrested for prostitution; but there was no money changing hands so the DA dropped the charges.

  The next page was more complicated but equally as odd. A man responded to her ad. They had supper. They had sex. Neighbors called the police because she was screaming. Police arrived and arrested the man for sexual assault but Mally refused to press charges and insisted he had done nothing wrong. He’d done what she wanted. The DA dropped the charges.

  He thought about it a moment, thought about the gangbang the other night. She didn’t like to be touched in general. Once she was aroused, it was okay; but to be aroused, she needed violence or the thought of impending violence.

  He called down to the Guard room. “Bring L up to me.”

  “Do you want her in the suit?”

  “She is to wear nothing.”

  “We’ll be right there, Sir.”

  Two minutes later, he watched her go to the spot. The guard had a pair of flip flops for her. She tried to cover her breasts with her arms folded.