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Review This Story || Author: Archetype

Learning the Dance

Part 5

Toilet Slave

Claire

 

Michael and Dominic walked down the hallway outside Michael’s bedroom, emerging into a large living room with high ceilings and a view through several floor length windows onto the back of the estate. The furnishings were all in a traditional French style – to Michael’s eye they appeared to be genuine antiques. Like everything else he had seen, it suggested impeccable taste and a love of quality, free of any concern for expense.

 

As they strode through the room their silk gowns flowed around them and swirled back with each firm step to reveal their nakedness. The air was fresh and fragrant – windows were open somewhere - and Michael’s mind was clear. Yet, as they approached an ornately carved wooden door at the far side of the room, he felt a twinge of anxiety in his stomach. He began to realize that he might be about to face another test.

 

Dominic seemed to sense this as well. He paused at the door and turned. Michael was surprised to see he had a concerned look on his face. “Michael, I have made a decision to move rather quickly in your education. This is a risk, and it may prove to be a mistake.”

 

“But,” he continued, his voice softer, “I believe there may be no choice.”

 

Michael said nothing. He continued to look at Dominic, trying to read his face. He realized again that he truly liked and trusted this man. He was almost reaching out to touch his shoulder when Dominic spoke again: “Michael, you understand that there is nothing you need conceal about yourself while you are in this house. Absolutely no-one knows what goes on here. No-one will ever know.”

 

Michael looked at him for a moment longer, and then he moved away, taking a step  toward the large windows. He stood looking at the fields and trees that stretched into the distance. He was aware of his faint reflection in the glass.

 

Michael knew the concern. On the other side of that door he would surely confront the reality of a woman being tortured into submission. A woman who, unlike Mandy or Sengita, did not want to be there. How would he react?

 

Michael’s hands rose up and came to rest on the back of his head. He stretched, closed his eyes and opened his mind. He had been with several women in his life.  He had enjoyed them – some he had even called his “partners”.   He liked their shape, their smell.  He liked bringing them to orgasm – watching them lose control. He liked it when a woman fell in love with him.

 

But he knew that none of those relationships had lasted. And he knew that no matter how good the sex he had never stopped fantasizing, or watching porn. And he liked violent porn. He had a good collection of torture videos. It was true that the women in these videos were willing victims – paid models with “safe words”. But there was also no doubt the pain they experienced was real. And that was the part he enjoyed. He liked it especially when a woman had been told to watch the camera while she was beaten. Stepping the action forward frame by frame he would look into her eyes and watch her agonized reactions. He would stroke himself gently, enjoying the sight of his hard cock in front of that picture of female suffering. Those were always his best orgasms.

 

Best orgasms? Wait a minute. Michael realized suddenly that everything he had enjoyed to that moment paled in comparison to what he had experienced the previous night. Never in his life had he come like that, with Mandy writhing in pain on his cock.

 

Could he torture a woman? The answer came from his belly. The feeling grew inside him, and he looked down to see his cock swelling and rising heavily before him. Oh yes. He turned to face Dominic and his rampant cock was his answer. “I’m ready,” he said.

 

*   *   *

 

Some distance away, in another room of the mansion, a young woman was awakening. Her name was Claire Sutherland, and she did not know where she was.

 

Three weeks earlier she had known. She had just graduated from law school, and was looking forward to starting her first job at the local prosecutor’s office. But first she had decided to take a trip to Europe to spend some time relaxing on the beach. On her own, she landed at the Athens airport, planning to rent a car and head off to the ferry terminal in Pireaus. But she had felt dizzy getting off the plane, and the last she remembered she had been leaning at the sink in the ladies’ room, trying to keep from fainting.

 

Claire opened her eyes slowly. She realized she was sitting in a large armchair, still dressed in the suit she had been wearing on the plane. But her feet were bare – she had no shoes or socks. She looked around, seeing that she was in what could be a hotel room – a bed, a dresser, a closet, a main door and another door that could lead to a washroom. But no windows. And no telephone. Where was she?

 

She stood up. Her head was fuzzy, but she was OK. Behind the smaller door there was indeed a spacious washroom. The sink was quite luxurious – it had a large mirror behind it – but the shower was simply a shower head and a drain in the floor at the other end of the room. She turned and walked to the main door. Locked.

 

Claire stood looking at the door handle for a few moments, and she then began to tremble. She had been kidnapped – no doubt. Someone – maybe that guy next to her on the plane – had drugged her and she had been kidnapped. She raised her hands to her face and took several deep breaths. Be calm! Think!

 

She forced herself to stand up straight and returned to the center of the room.  Then she began to explore the room more thoroughly. She looked in all the drawers, the closet, under the sink. Nothing – all completely empty.

 

Claire stood and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She straightened up, staring directly at her reflection, and squared her shoulders. The woman she saw was no victim. She was a successful student. She had been president of the Women in Law Society at her school. She had taken courses in self defense. She did not know what was coming, but she would be ready.

 

*   *   *

 

“You have taken on a challenge, Sir.”

 

Jaffa was speaking as Michael and Dominic entered the room behind the carved door.  Hanging from the ceiling in front of a row of dark gray curtains was a large flat panel screen. On it, staring directly at them, was a young woman. She was dressed in a business suit that looked a bit rumpled, and as Michael watched she stood up straight and smoothed the fabric of the skirt across her hips, squaring her shoulders.

 

“Nice tits.”

 

It was the first time he had heard Jaffa chuckle. “Your son has a way with words,” he said to Dominic.

 

The girl on the screen was short with dark hair that came to her shoulders. Her face was attractive but hard – her lips were stretched thinly in a look of worry and determination. But her body, even under the tailored fabric of her suit, was voluptuously curved. Her waist was thin and her hips flared out – Michael could not see her ass but he knew it would be round and firm. And her tits – the suit made it hard to judge, but the fabric bulged smoothly from just below her shoulders down nearly to her waist. It was as if the suit had been designed to subdue an ample bosom, but to Michael it meant hidden promise.

 

Dominic began to speak. “Michael, this is Claire Sutherland. She is a young student just out of law school. She is smart and politically active and I must say she is quite the feminist. Apparently she and a few of her female friends found some of their classroom exercises distasteful. So one of the things she did as president of her “Women in Law Society” is fight for an initiative she called:  “There’s No Defense for Scum”. She argued that no female law student should ever have to argue the case for a male in any dispute with a woman.  She now wants to become a prosecutor so that she can put men who dominate their women into jail.”

 

Michael at this point began to realize that the camera was pointed through a mirror at Claire – that she did not know she was being watched. His cock jerked at the thought and he leaned to watch more closely.

 

Dominic continued: “We are going to turn her into a sex toy.”

 

At this point, as Michael watched, a door that he could see behind Claire opened and two rather large men appeared. Claire turned quickly, and Michael saw that he had been right about her ass. Claire walked toward the men, and Michael could hear what she said from a speaker in the screen.

 

“Who are you! What am I doing here! You will tell me at once!”

 

The two men stood side by side in front of the door for a moment, and then one of them spoke in an Arabic accent. “If you will come with us your questions may be answered.”

 

Claire looked at them for a moment, no doubt judging her chances and deciding she would not get far against two large men. Nonetheless her voice got louder. “What am I doing here!” she demanded. “You have no right to keep me here!”

 

The two men said nothing, but began to approach her slowly. “No! Stay away from me!” The men reached her, and one of them grabbed a wrist. Claire aimed an expert kick toward his groin, but the man was expecting it, and dodged easily. The other man grabbed her other wrist and moments later Clair was bent forward, both her arms held painfully behind her back. She tried to stomp on the men’s feet, but they jerked her wrists upwards until the pain grew so intense she started to collapse to her knees.  The men forced her down until her head was almost to the floor.

 

“You will get to your feet and you will come with us or we will break your arms. Do you understand?”

 

“Aagghh! Stop!”

 

“Do you understand?”

 

Aughh! You fucking Bastards!”

 

“Do you understand!” 

 

Claire’s head was on the floor now, and all Michael could see was her ass stuck up in the air with her skirt at mid thigh. She had nice legs, and her ass was round and firm..

 

She continued gasping but gradually her struggles stopped while the two men held her down. Then, slowly they relaxed the pressure and lifted, letting Claire rise to her feet. “You will come with us now.” The men started towards the door, with Claire stumbling between them, arms still tightly held behind her back. She seemed in shock. Moments after they left the screen went blank and started rising toward the ceiling.

 

Dominic turned. “So now it begins,” he said. He was looking closely at Michael. A moment later he continued: “Michael, the room we are in was designed so that our customers could come and watch the final preparation of their future slaves. It has some features that make it quite ideal for this purpose. I will ask you to remain here while I attend to our new guest. Again I must ask you to trust me in this – you are not yet ready to take on a trainee, and you will learn much by observing.  Is this acceptable to you?

 

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Of course.” He was in no position to disagree – he had no idea what would happen next. In fact he felt a certain relief to know that he could simply watch. Still, he was curious. “Why should I stay here? Could I not watch in person?”

 

“Mmm, well, yes, it could happen that way, and it may soon. But customer service is part of the business, and you should learn this as well. You will enjoy this, I think.”

 

Dominic’s eyes were smiling, and once again Michael found himself trusting the man.

 

“Here. Please take a seat.” Dominic pointed to a very plush leather chair that faced the wall of curtains. “Jaffa and I will leave you here. Don’t worry – your needs will be attended to.” With that they both left through another door to the side of the curtained wall.

 

Michael stood behind the chair taking things in. The room was small and essentially bare of furnishings but for the screen that had placed itself flat against the ceiling above him and the luxurious chair that sat, rather strangely, facing the curtained wall from only about three feet away. Feeling a bit strange himself, he moved around the chair and examined the curtains. He found the opening right in front of the chair, but as he reached in to pull them back there was a soft humming, and they began to move of themselves. They parted to reveal a dark pane of glass – black and reflective like a window at night. It was large, perhaps six feet across and it went from the floor almost to the ceiling.

 

Michael sat in the chair and looked at the glass. He realized that again he was looking at a one-way mirror, and that when the lights in the other room came on he would see in but the occupant of that room would see only a reflection. Indeed as he watched he noticed his room was getting darker, and at the same time he began to see the room beyond. The light was coming from a series of large bulbs surrounding the glass on the other side, making it look like he was looking through a large studio mirror.

 

The immediately obvious thing on the other side was a pair of posts that rose from the floor about three feet apart and about four feet high. They were bright and shiny, as if made from stainless steel. On the top of each was a short loop of leather. Apart from that there was a large armoire on the back wall and a door. That was it.

 

As he watched the door opened and Claire was brought in. She was still bent at the waist, her hands held painfully behind. The two men marched her to the posts, and held her there a moment between them. Then, while one man continued to hold her left arm, the other swiftly brought her right one forward and in an expert move forced her hand through the loop, which quickly tightened over her wrist. Quickly her other arm was attached, and the men stood back. Then, just as swiftly they attached her ankles to the base of each post with bands that they took from their pockets. One last look, and then they left, closing the door behind them.

 

At first Claire couldn’t believe the relief she felt in her shoulders. She hunched and rolled them, and then tossed her head to get the hair out of her face. Then she froze, confronted with her starkly bright image in the mirror. She was standing with her legs spread and her wrists at the level of her breasts. She looked awful. Her suit was rumpled, her hair was a mess, her face was gaunt and her eyes were red from the tears forced out during her struggles.

 

In a sudden eruption of fury she jerked and jumped, trying to move her arms or her legs – anything to get free. Nothing gave. Then she focused on her wrists. The leather seemed to disappear back into the post – there was no end she could bite – nothing to get a hold of. She raised a leg and leaned down to bite at the strap on her ankle, but it was too far. She jerked back and forth trying to move the posts. Solid.

 

The door behind her opened once again, and this time Dominic came in, still in his dressing gown. Claire looked up and saw him in the mirror. She watched him intensely as he approached stopping a few feet behind her. Dominic looked at her calmly, then in an curious motion moved to place some small objects in his ears.

 

“Who are you! What am I doing here!”

 

“My name is Dominic D’Attilio. And you are here at my pleasure.”

 

“Fuck You Asshole! You are a fucking criminal! You will pay for this!”

 

“I think not. I intend to be well rewarded.”

 

Claire stared furiously at him for a moment. “You ignorant, fucking, shithead! You will not get away with this!” She was stretching forward toward his image now, her face working itself into an appalling twisted vision of hate. “YOU WILL PAY!”

 

Dominic was smiling. “My greatest reward may be in seeing you become a real woman.”

 

Claire was transfixed for an instant, her face a mix of shock and horror. Then she began to scream. It was not a scream for help. It was a scream of rage. A scream of pure hatred aimed directly at the man in the mirror. Impossibly loud - a scream that was a weapon, to wither an opponent with its fury and its seething anger.

 

Behind the glass Michael was blown back in his chair. Dominic was standing such that Claire seemed to be looking at a point just above Michael’s head. Her hands clenched and unclenched, the tendons in her neck stood out like taut ropes, and her eyes – her eyes were filled with the most intense and focused hatred Michael had ever seen. Even now this woman had power – the power of a caged lioness glaring at her captor.

 

Dominic stood watching her, his earplugs deflecting much of her fury. Gradually the screams became raspier and softer until Claire was left panting deeply, her eyes still fixed on the man in the mirror. Dominic turned and went to the large armoire, opening it to reveal a series of drawers. Opening one he reached in and then returned with a rather large pair of scissors.

 

Moving directly behind Claire he reached with his left hand to grab a large handful of hair at the back of her head. He pulled sharply up and back so that Claire’s neck was exposed and she had to face him in the mirror. She snarled but said nothing. He held the scissors near her ear. “Snip! Snip!” The metal flashed in the bright light. “Snip! Snip!”

 

 Michael was now completely engrossed in the scene. He stood up, his calves pushing on the chair and with surprisingly little force it rolled smoothly away. He moved to the point where it appeared Claire was looking directly at him. His fingers reached for the base of his cock, circling behind his balls and pulling everything into prominence in front of him. His gown fell off his shoulders, unnoticed.

 

The scissors were razor sharp. Dominic opened them and slid one blade beneath the top button on Claire’s suit. A sharp flick and the button was gone. Then the next one, and the next. Dominic drove his left elbow between her shoulderblades and pulled back her head. The last button flew off as her back arched and the jacket parted. Underneath was a formal blouse of thick cotton, but now Michael could see the shape of her trapped breast flesh spreading out across her chest.

 

“Woah!”  Michael was talking to himself now.

 

The scissors went for the next row of buttons. Claire’s eyes closed and she once again began to scream and shake herself violently, unmindful of the pain in her scalp. Dominic moved the scissors away, holding her in his left hand, waiting. Her screaming was not as loud, and Michael started to hear an edge of despair in her voice. But when her eyes opened her face showed no defeat.

 

Dominic pulled back again and the scissors did their work. When the buttons were gone he suddenly released her head and reached around her with both hands to grab her blouse where it entered the skirt. He pulled back viciously, then transferred the fabric to one hand and sliced both layers behind each shoulder right to the collar. A last cut and he threw the useless clothes behind him, leaving the girl standing in her bra. Swiftly he moved to the skirt. One sharp tug and it was at her knees, trapping her legs. Another long slice up the back and it was gone.

 

Michael had moved so that his head was almost touching the glass in front of him. His eyes roved up and down girl so brightly displayed only a few feet away. Her underwear was functional - solid cotton panties that came to her waist and a very large but plain bra that covered all but the barest hint of flesh at the top. But these remaining garments could no longer hide her stunning body. Claire’s upper thighs and hips were thick and round, but Michael could tell that it was all muscle. Her belly was flat and slim. And her breasts -- even in such an ugly bra it was clear they were large – perhaps very large. And on her short frame they looked enormous.

 

Dominic approached her once again from behind. He stood between her legs and pushed his thighs against her ass, so that Claire was held tightly by the straps on her ankles and wrists. Her head went back and she let out a wail as the scissors once again attended to their duties. They clipped the straps to her bra, and then, from the bottom, one swift cut. The bra flew apart and her breasts were free. They were gorgeous natural hangers – large and wide against her chest with dark aureolae and nipples. Claire looked at them too, in the mirror, and the sharp movements of her anguished face were in stark contrast to the soft ripples that moved through her breasts.

 

Two more snips and Dominic had the last of her modesty in his hands. He pulled and Michael watched as her white panties disappeared like a snake between her legs.

 

“Well! What have we here? A shaved pussy?” Dominic was laughing. Claire crouched forward, bringing her elbows in and closing her thighs as much as she could. Her head fell, her hair falling over her face, her breasts dangling below. “Did you do that for me? I like a shaved pussy. How very nice of you to go to all that trouble!”

 

Dominic grabbed her hair from behind again and straightened her up, arching her back. Michael watched as her breasts spread out across her chest. They were soft, like Sengita’s, and looked even larger against Claire’s smaller frame. “Show me your shaved pussy, Claire. Spread your legs and show me your shaved pussy.”

 

“Aughh! Fuck you Asshole!”

 

“Let’s talk about why you keep it shaved. Does your girlfriend like it that way?”

 

“Fuck Off! Arggh!” Once again Claire started to violently shake herself back and forth, desperately trying to get a hand or a foot free. But this time she was naked, and Michael was greeted with an incredible display of breastflesh violently jiggling and coursing back and forth across her chest. He still had hold of his cock, and now he reached down with his other hand to grab the shaft. Feeling it, he looked down. He had never seen himself so large. 

 

“Ah well, we’ll find out soon enough.” Dominic went back to the armoire and reached into another drawer, coming out with a small black object. He pushed a button, and suddenly Claire stood up in fright. The posts were moving! Gradually they leaned outwards and lengthened, pulling her wrists out and up until she was stretched taut, with her arms in the air, held more widely than her legs. Claire looked around in fright as she had to rise on her toes to hold her weight.

 

Dominic replaced the controller, and came to stand beside her. Casually he reached down to cradle her pussy, letting his middle finger run along the opening. He spoke softly: “You will learn to lubricate yourself as your Master approaches. Your body will ache with longing for his dominance.”

 

Claire stared softly up into his eyes for a moment, and then suddenly Dominic ducked his head behind her upraised arm. A large ball of spit flew past him.

 

“Oh I am going to enjoy training you!” Dominic was safely behind her again, and he was laughing with genuine pleasure. The anger was back in Claire’s eyes and she stared at him fiercely. He palmed her right ass cheek and then his fingers dug in, giving her a hard jiggle.

 

“But, I must say it has been a most pleasurable morning. Time for lunch, I think. You won’t mind waiting, will you?” Dominic smiled again and then turned to leave.

 

“You ignorant fucking cunt! Arghh!” Claire shook herself trying to move the posts. Her breasts were more shapely in this position, and they moved like soft globes back and forth across her stretched ribs.

 

Dominic paused before closing the door. “My, my. Such language!”

 

Michael was left stunned. When Dominic returned, he could only stand there naked, his body outlined in stark relief by the light coming through the mirror.

 

“Well, that was a good morning. Time for some lunch, I think. Care to join me?”

 

 

*     *     *

 

 


Review This Story || Author: Archetype
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