by J. M. Keep
“Our psychologists created the program from countless historical and contemporary studies on the malleability of the human mind. Through it, she was moulded into a more perfect woman, Sir,” he said. “Nothing remains of the woman she once was. Nothing.”
The portly fellow reached over and gave her supple ass cheek a pinch, but the woman didn’t respond.
“She is unrestrained. The hormones coursing through her and the psychological treatment do it all. She shall be a loyal, ah… servant… until the end of her days.”
“Why does she look so… glazed over?”
Mr. Raynor paced around the statuesque woman, scrutinizing the young lady’s every asset, looking over her voluptuous body, her thick hair, her pouty, cocksucking lips. He was unable to find a single flaw to complain about.
“She’s just waiting for your activation,” the portly one declared. “Once you’re ready to start her new life, just prick her with this,” he said, offering a small cylinder. “It’ll just adjust her hormone levels for active service, and then you can command her as you will for your pleasure.”
Mr. Raynor took the cool, metal cylinder and studied it before placing it upon his desk.
“She’s not for me,” he explained, taking another hard look at the busty, glazed-over bimbo. “A gift for my son. He’s graduating from university, and it’s his celebratory party tonight.” He sat back down at his desk, hitting a few buttons on the touchscreen before him. “And he always did have a thing for the lady here, though she refused his advances.”
The two men shifted on their feet, then nodded.
“Lucky boy,” stated the large one.
“Poor girl’s family fell on hard times. Bad luck for her, but good luck for my son,” he remarked with a smile. “The money is transferred, Gentlemen. A pleasure doing business with you.”
~~
The past day was just a haze for her, more so than the usual fog that encompassed all of her time now. She could – in the back of her mind – recall a time when things were not so, but… it was a nagging thought with no substance. She mentally shrugged it off, as always.
Thinking about such things was a waste of time, the voice said in her mind. Only think on the material – how best to please your masters.
It was with at thought she felt the cool prick of a needle on her skin, and her long lashes fluttered as her eyes opened wide. All around her she heard the sounds of a celebration. She was in a posh manor, and before her stood several wealthy, handsome young men, dressed in casual suits and holding drinks.
“She’s all yours, you say?” said a short, blond fellow, whom she towered above in her stilettos.
One man drew her gaze, though—the one who pricked her with the cylinder’s needle and brought her back to ‘life’, as it were. Brought the buzz to her skin, the tingle in her loins. The urge to serve, and to please.
“Andrea?” The dark-haired young man’s brows furrowed as he studied her. “Is that you?”
The name didn’t seem to sound right to her. Her only names were things like ‘fuck doll’, ‘cock sleeve’, ‘slave’ or ‘cum dump’ as far as she knew. Though the tall, dark, handsome young man with his smoothly-shaven face and attractive attire seemed too suitable a master to be wrong.
“As you wish,” she smiled, her shoulders relaxing as she drank him in. He was quite good-looking. Not that it mattered, but somehow it did. Her smile deepened at the thought, and she licked her lips.
A beefy, fit man, with no jacket and his sleeves rolled up, whistled as he watched her trail her tongue over her full lips.
“Check out those cock-suckers!”
He took a look behind her, then slapped her ass, the supple, yet yielding, cheek giving a satisfying crack upon the impact.
“Knock that off,” said the perturbed young master before her, running a hand back over his lightly tousled, black hair. Something troubled the man, and inside her, that knowledge triggered a powerful urge to comfort him.
Her manicured fingertips reached out to him. There was no better way to comfort than through touch, and her brown eyes sparkled as she looked at him. She needed to make him feel better. The smack of her ass had only made her loins throb harder, but she didn’t belong to that brutish man.
She... Andrea... belonged to the man with the cylinder.
“Lucky bastard,” muttered the blond with the drink as he watched Andrea move towards him, and caress his chest through the unbuttoned front of his shirt.
“Are you okay?” asked her new master with that concerned look on his face as he studied her closely. Other celebrants walked by the doors as music filtered in from the rest of the manor.
“If you aren’t gonna pop this one’s cherry here and now, then step aside and let me do it for ya, buddy,” remarked the muscular man, his shirt now untucked. “She needs it now. And bad.”
He grinned unevenly and reached for his belt.
There was nothing wrong with that idea in her head, of course. Her master could take first priority if he wished it, but there was no real rule in her head that told her she was to keep herself only for him. If one master didn’t want her then and there, another would do.
“What’d I say? Knock it off,” her primary master chided again, reaching out and touching her gingerly upon her hip. “Are you okay, Andrea?”
“Of course,” she said brightly.
She stepped closer to him, her brown eyelashes fluttering at his touch. Her hair was long and held back in a thick, sleek ponytail, the dark tresses flattering her tanned skin.
She fingered the button on his shirt, her breath quickening. “Are you okay?”
She was dressed in a leather jacket, she noticed, and its cuffs looked too wide against her slender, feminine hands. She felt a necklace draped around her neck and down between her breasts, the gems disappearing between her bra-enhanced cleavage.
Instinctively, she draped herself over him with one arm and stroked her fingers along his chest, feeling the light sprinkling of hair on his lean pecs. She bent one knee, stroking her inner thigh over his leg.
He looked startled by her motions, those grey, almost silver, eyes of his widening in shock at her brazen touches.
“This isn’t like you,” he said breathlessly.
She felt his pulse race beneath her touch.
“She’s better,” said the beefy man as he stepped in behind her, sliding his hand over the smooth, blemishless skin on her well-curved ass.
The blond nodded and continued drinking, a half-undone tie dangling around his neck.
“Much better. Remember how snarky the bitch was?”
It was as if they were speaking of her, but not. Some inkling of familiarity sparked in her mind, but was quickly snuffed out as she met her master’s gaze. She could almost smell his arousal in the air, and that, combined with the rough hand gliding over her mostly uncovered bum, made her throb with need.
Her hand moved up to his hair, feeling the back of his neck and rubbing along his hairline as she inhaled his erotic, masculine scent.
“You want me.” Those sultry words stirred something more in him. She could tell. Reading men’s reactions came so easily to her, and her new master liked her. A lot. Even if he showed it in funny ways.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, and her knee moved up, brushing against another swelling that she knew she caused.
“Stay right here,” he said, taking her hands off him and motioning for her to stay. “I’m going to speak with my father.” His voice was stern.
He turned and stormed out, but not before pausing to look at the other two men.
“Don’t touch her!” he declared, and his words, barked out as orders, made her quiver with desire.
Once he left, however, she noticed the other two men did not seem so affected. The blond muttered in a mock voice, “Don’t touch her.” as he approached her, one hand in his pocket.
The thick, muscled one walked back up to her and put his hand back on her ass.<
br />
“Whoops, guess I touched you,” he said, followed by a firm, hard squeeze of her supple cheek, groping the fleshy mound.
She’d been ordered to stay of course. The rest of her owner’s orders were for them, and none of the rules in her head said she had to abide by those commands.
So, she stayed still, though not unmoved. How could she not be moved, when their rough hands were able to bring her such pleasure? Her nipples pressed against her black, unpadded bra, and the rhinestones caught the light as the material shifted.
Her panties were soaking. She shifted in her stilettos to try to ease her need, but it only inflamed it further. She sighed softly.
“Shit, man,” said the strong one.
As she watched, his hand worked under his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. He looked straight to her.
“You look like you need a stiff dick in you. That right, slut?”
He freed a sizable, veiny shaft from his pants and rubbed its heated length against her thigh. No one else in the room even paused or gave notice. It was, after all, a party, and such things were common place. Even if she wasn’t.
“Yes,” she responded honestly, her face brightening as her gaze dropped.
She licked her lips again. She was so hungry for it. For him.
He seemed so much more desirable, so much needier for her services, and, even though in the back of her mind she thought of the master that woke her, it wasn’t enough. Not to distract her from that gorgeous member right in front of her.
She ground her thigh against him, feeling a dab of pre-cum paint her tanned flesh. She moaned.
“So big,” she murmured.
Grinning toothily he soaked up her praise, reaching over her plump ass cheeks to the back of her thong and tugging it down, peeling it away from her slick cunny.
“Bend over then, slut, and I’ll break you in nice and good,” he promised.
Her training kicked in.
She saw the table nearby, a perfect height for leaning over, and then sighted the blond. His thick hair brushed back repeatedly by his fingers as he tried to retain a casual pose, but she could read the subtle signs. He wanted her, too. But she’d have to initiate if she wanted that satisfying dick he bore.
And she did.
She always wanted it, and the thought of having them both made her squirm. It was hard to walk in the stilettos with her panties halfway down, but it didn’t matter. The idea of them watching her in such a compromised position actually turned her on. She moaned at the idea.
Her chocolate eyelashes fluttered before she returned her gaze to the blond, smiling at him lewdly.
“Are you going to join in?” she purred, as the click-click of her heels filled the air.
The blond looked surprised by her proposition as she bent over the table, but though he hesitated, once the muscular man stepped behind her and began teasing his cock into her wet slit, he shuffled nearer until he was within her reach.
“Fuck! I’ve never seen a bitch wetter than her,” said the hunk behind her.
He rolled back his foreskin and wet his rigid crown on her puffy labia, teasing her entrance for a few moments.
She groaned loudly as he rubbed himself over her tender, throbbing clit, and bent her head back. Her breasts were propped against her forearm, so thick and full beneath her bra, the cleavage was bared almost lovingly. Her back arched as she pushed against the man at her pussy, grinding against him.
It certainly wasn’t one-sided. There was no one that could argue that she didn’t want it, that she didn’t want him. All she could think of was feeling that thick cock stuffed into her cunt. A thrill went up her spine before he shoved it in to the hilt with one fell swoop. He let loose a low, noisy groan as he did so, his hefty girth throbbing wildly inside of her.
Yet her cry was sweeter still. She was like warm honey dripping around him, clenching his cock so tightly despite her wetness. She pushed her thick ass against his hips, her fingers curling as he hit her cervix.
She could feel his strong grip tighten around her waist, his thumbs digging into her ass as he crooned like a boy out of his depth instead of the macho man that was so forward and demanding.
“God damn,” he said before giving her round ass cheek a slap. “Tightest lil’ cum-drainer I’ve ever been in.”
The declaration so crude. So complimentary. It spoke to her perfectly. Cum-drainer. She’d have to remember that one for the future.
He tugged back his length against the resistance of her narrow twat, feeling that slick canal drag against his throbbing shaft as he moaned. All that training she underwent – both physical and mental – turned her quim into such a cock-pleaser.
The blond man stepped around her to the other side of the end table, bending to the side a bit as he stared at her hefty tits, and the way they pushed against the tabletop forming such delicious mounds of cleavage. He was entranced by her. Though, she noted glumly, his dick was still in his pants, even though it was easily within grasp.
The rules in her head said an untended dick was a failure.
She refused to fail.
She reached for him, and she knew she’d only need one hand to unleash him, to press that button through the hole and free him of those cruel confines. Yet it was more difficult as the muscular man kept pounding into her, jostling her body with each hard, long thrust.
She moaned again, her pink lips parting in ecstasy as she practically begged for the blonde man’s cock. She knew neither of their names, but it didn’t matter. She belonged to them, in her own way. Their names were none of her concern.
Her only concern was sating their needs, and thus, her own. As the grunting man behind her plowed into her cunt, the slaps of his groin striking her firm ass resounded in the room. The swing of his heavy sack arcing up and striking her clit and mons provided a wet crash to the symphony, and he continued his crass talk.
“You’re gonna siphon the cum right out of me with this tight little cock-socket of yours, slut.”
His muscular physique tensed, biceps and pecs bulging as he took tight hold of her and pumped her snatch.
Somehow, she managed to free the blonde’s dick and get her slender fingers about it. Feel its primal heat as she stroked his length, so much smaller than the other man’s.
The rules told her that didn’t matter, except when the prospective master had a big one in which case it did. She must appreciate a cock for its stiff glory no matter what the size.
There were so many rules. Rules upon rules, but she knew them all intimately. They were part of her now, just as much as breathing and eating. They dictated every instinct in her body, and her mouth dropped open as she stared at the fleshy meat in her hand. She stroked it, the head blossoming from his foreskin and showing off its dark, purple hue.
“Gorgeous,” she moaned, and her cunt throbbed and tightened along the dick fucking her. She would reward them both for this gift.
She heard the man behind her moan and groan, his breathing hitching as he hammered into her. Already she could tell he was close to cumming, her body trained and shaped to please him perfectly. “C’mon,” he grunted, watching her, the way her ass and thighs jiggled just right with every thrust.
She worked that dick in front of her, twisting her wrist as she stroked it expertly, feeling its heated length as she watched it swell before her.
Just one little squeeze more and she felt the dick inside her burst. That thick, ridged crown exploding out with a rich gout of pearly white seed, flooding her cunt and splattering over her cervix as he pounded and ground against it.
She rammed her ass against his hips, begging him to push himself as deep as he could go even though it caused her to cry out. It wasn’t a failure to feel pain, or to express it. That was one of the rules, too. Vocalize not just the pleasure, but also the pain. Let them know when their bodies as so well-sculpted that they actually hurt her.
That was an easy rule. As long as she didn’t complain, of course. Letting them know and co
mplaining were too very different things.
Her hand-job paused, her palm gripping the blond tightly as she reveled in the exquisite orgasm of the other man. Her cunny held him deep within her, squeezing every last drop out of him.
For his part, he was a good man. So big and crude, he brought such delicious pain and showed no hesitation. He slapped her ass again just to watch it jiggle and leave his red handprint on her flesh.
“Hell, yeah. She’d drain any man dry with that fuck-slit,” he declared, yanking his length from her, only to shiver with delight as her tight folds gripped him sensuously.
He shook, then beckoned the other man.
“C’mon! Try her out before Rick gets back.”
Rick. Master…
She preferred the latter, but he wasn’t here. All he left in his place were these two.
And they were so fucking delicious.
He bent over and gave her stinging cheek a kiss, then tugged her hair as the blond moved around behind her. He spoke into her ear as he kept her ponytail tugged back.
“You have no idea how much you deserved that, you dumb little dick-sleeve.”
“I don’t,” she moaned. “Teach me. Oh god, teach me…”
She felt her scalp prickle with each of his cruel tugs. The shiny tresses were slick and smooth between his fingers as he exposed her tender throat and made her necklace rise out of her cleavage.
“Please, teach me,” she whimpered, looking first at the crude man, then the quiet one.
The blond smirked at her before slipping into position behind her. “Damn, you made a mess of her,” he said.
She knew he must’ve referred to the sticky seed drooling out of her puffy folds and running down her inner thighs. Though, honestly, she was almost as much of a mess before he’d cum in her.
It wasn’t enough to stop him, though. He pushed in where the last man was, feeling the soft, warm embrace of her cunt with a moan, ignoring the squelch of the other man’s seed as he buried his length inside her.
