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When Amy awoke, she was lying on a concrete floor in what appeared to be some sort of basement. The room was small and rather damp, to her left was a rickety wooden staircase that led to an old-fashioned wooden door. There were no other doors or windows that she could see, and the only furnishing in the room was a heavy stone counter lining one wall.
Amy was lying sprawled on her stomach, as though someone had simply dropped her on the floor - considering her recent treatment, she had an inkling that was exactly what had happened. Bracing her palms on the rough concrete, Amy pushed herself up to her knees and gasped as pain flared to life in her bare ass. Automatically reaching behind her with her left hand, she felt a strange pattern of ridges just above her left butt cheek. Gingerly, she traced the marks until she made out a circle with some sort of pattern inside it. 'A brand?' she thought as she quickly took her fingers away and rolled on her back to press her aching ass against the cool, soothing stone.
Lying on her back, Amy raised her palms in front of her and studied her wrists. They were swollen and bruised from being chained, her ankles felt like they were in the same condition. "Still no clothes," she muttered, laying her sore arms over her bare breasts and staring at the concrete ceiling. Tears welled up in her eyes and she angrily brushed them away. She needed to take stock of her situation and see if she could find a way to escape. She could always have the brand lasered off once she was free and had these creeps convicted for kidnapping.
Sighing, Amy pushed herself to her feet, stopping to brace herself against a wall when her vision blurred and the room swam before her eyes. Slowly, she took first one step, then another, wobbling back and forth like a drunk as her head cleared from her earlier collapse.
Never one to dwell on a tough situation, Amy had long ago learned that when there's a problem, one must simply deal with it rather than wait for something else to happen. So she made her way slowly to the steps, then crawled up them. Everytime her left leg moved, fire shot down from her ass to her toes and she whimpered softly, but kept going. Just as she reached the door, it opened abruptly outward.
Startled, Amy leaned back and would have fallen headfirst down the stairs had the figure in the doorway not shot out an arm and caught her by her right arm. Instead, she found herself yanked forward from certain death into strong arms that scooped her up as though she were a little bit of nothing.
Mr. Johnson carried her back down the stairs, shutting the door quietly behind him, and gently set Amy on the ground, then seated himself on the bottom step and regarded her through veiled eyes.
Wishing she could read his expression, Amy crossed her arms over her bare breasts and scooted back into a corner, then pressed her thighs tightly together and drew her knees up to her chest.
That sat like that for a full minute, staring at one another, neither making a sound.
Finally Amy whispered, "say something, please."
Mr. Johnson continued to study her for a moment, then commented, "You spoke without permission." It wasn't really an accusation, just a comment, and Amy nodded in response.
"You shouldn't do that again, it will get you into trouble."
Amy nodded again, pressing her lips tightly together.
Mr. Johnson rose and moved until he was standing in front of her, his hips less than a foot from her face. "I bought you at the auction, do you understand?"
Amy nodded mutely, keeping her eyes carefully on the floor.
"That means you are now my property, my pleasure slave, do you understand?"
Amy's head shot up, glaring right at his face. "Yeah, I got that. But you should understand that you won't be getting any pleasure from me, so you wasted your money."
Mr. Johnson grinned from ear to ear, so the rumors had been true, this one was really a spitfire. He was going to enjoy taming her.
His grin was so intense, it was actually quite disturbing, and Amy returned her gaze to the floor, studiously avoiding looking at the bulge that was so obvious right in front of her face.
"Do you have a name?" His voice was deep and sensuous, it sent strange vibrations through her body, causing her nipples to harden and moisture to form in her sex.
"Of course I have a name," she snapped. "It's Amy."
"Not anymore. For now, you will respond to Fucktoy. When you have proven yourself to be a good slave, you will be given a new slave-name."
"No. I will respond to Amy." She growled in reply, glaring all her fury and frustration at the floor.
"No, you will not." His voice was calm, he didn't seem at all concerned that she was directly defying his orders.
"You will answer to Fucktoy until further notice. I will not call you anything else."
"Then you will not get a response from me, because I will only answer to Amy." She replied, mocking his tone in a way that no proper slave would ever have dreamed of using, especially toward their master.
Because she was not trained and had no idea of what standards she would be held to, Mr. Johnson simply reached down and grabbed her firmly by the nape of her neck, forcing her head back until she was looking right at the rather large bulge in his pants.
Stubbornly, Amy focused on the texture of the blue jeans rather than what was obviously beneath them.
Reaching down with his free hand, Mr. Johnson unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was still soft, but even soft it was simply enormous.
"Every time we meet, you will greet me by kissing my cock. If we are at home, you will unzip my fly and kiss it directly, if we are in public, you will kiss it through my pants, understand?"
"I understand that if you bring that thing any closer I'll bite it off," Amy snarled, fighting for any semblance of control over the situation.
"I don't think so," Mr. Johnson replied calmly. Then, leaving his cock dangling, he hoisted Amy up by the nape of her neck again until she was standing. Once she was on her feet, it was frighteningly easy for him to snatch her off the ground and sling her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Amy was certainly not a tiny woman, at 5'10", she was taller than most women. Yet, Mr. Johnson carried her as though she were nothing, it was an unsettling feeling for a woman who was entirely used to being in control.
Ignoring her struggles, Mr. Johnson carried her across the small room and slowly, almost gently, lowered Amy down until she was lying on her back on the counter, looking up at him.
Amy stopped struggling as he lowered her, the pain in her ass was warning enough, and she didn't want to know what else he would do to her if she started kicking and hitting. It took her a moment to regain her equilibrium - she had already been slightly off-balance and being carried with her head hanging upside down did not help matters at all. By the time her vision had focused again, Mr. Johnson had gathered a couple of items from the cupboards below the countertop and was standing at the end of the counter, carefully arranging them beside her hips.
Once the bottles were arranged to his satisfaction, he abruptly grabbed her legs just above the knees and pulled her toward him, until her ass was dangling off the edge of the counter, her legs on either of his hips. He leaned in and she could feel the soft skin on his cock brushing her bare cunt.
Normally, Mr. Johnson would have had the girl shaved bald and numerous other modifications made, but there were time requirements on virgins. If her virginity had not been claimed within 24 hours of being branded, his claim to her would be forfeit, his money returned and she would be re-auctioned to someone else. Only an idiot would want to lose a beautiful hellion like this one, so he would claim her virginity, then begin her training and modification.
Amy struggled as she was yanked down the counter, yelping as the raw flesh on her butt was dragged across the countertop. It was useless, of course. As soon as he had her in position, he leaned over her and pinned her flat by pressing a firm hand onto her neck, briefly cutting off her oxygen. "Hold still, or I will strangle you."
Faced with that choice, Amy stilled.
"Listen carefully, I'm only going to say this once." Mr. Johnson spoke calmly as he squirted something cold onto the soft mound between Amy's thighs. "Normally, I wouldn't do it like this, but things are different because you're a virgin. I recommend you relax as much as possible."
Amy began to sob openly and tried to push his hands away from her pussy. "Please, no, don't..." When confronted with rape and death, she suddenly became amazingly obedient. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't rape me...please..."
Mr. Johnson said nothing, instead he calmly caught her wrists and fastened the to a set of soft restraints built into the counter so they were stretched out above her head. They were made of simple cotton, soft to the abraded skin on her wrists.
Amy tugged on them, then tried to scoot away from him.
Again, Mr. Johnson did not scold, he simply grabbed her hips and tugged her back into position again, then continued rubbing lubricant onto his rapidly hardening cock, making certain that both his new fucktoy and himself were well greased.
When Amy raised her head and saw what he had for her, she almost passed out again. It was so big around, she wasn't sure her fingers would meet if she wrapped her hand around it, and looked to be close to a foot long. "No, it won't fit! Please, it's too big!" She whimpered, trying to squirm away from him yet again.
Mr. Johnson put an end to the struggle with a weighty sigh by simply looping his arms under her knees and bracing his hands on the counter, pinning her in that position, which had the added benefit of opening her up as wide as possible. "Relax as much as you can, it will fit, I promise."
Amy squeezed her eyes shut and began to cry, digging her nails into her palms and almost screaming when she felt the strange sensation of his cock against her tight slit.
Keeping her legs in position with his left hand and right shoulder, Mr. Johnson used his right hand to guide his cock to the tiny entrance, pressing in slowly, until the head had just popped in.
Amy cried and tossed her head around, feeling as though he were shoving a bowling ball between her legs.
Slowly, steadily, Mr. Johnson slid his cock into her body, his eyes closed in concentration as her muscles contracted spasmodically around his swollen member. She felt like a tiny fist squeezing around his organ, so good he almost blew his load right there. Gritting his teeth, he continued pushing forward slowly, until finally, he felt the slight resistance of her hymen and pulled back a bit.
Amy felt as though he had shoved his whole arm up her cunt, and though he wasn't even halfway in, it felt like his cock might pop out of her mouth any second. When he withdrew ever so slightly, she gasped, feeling a strange contraction in her privates - it almost felt...good. Squeezing her eyes shut, she vowed to not enjoy this rape, and gritted her teeth together tightly.
Taking a deep breath, Mr. Johnson opened his eyes and studied her set features, almost smiling at the expression of determination on her face. She was so willful, so stubborn. It was almost a shame to break her, but if she were sold to someone else, it would be a million times worse. He waited patiently, taking deep breaths, not moving until she began to relax around his cock a bit, making more room for him in her untouched cunt. He then thrust forward abruptly, popping through her hymen effortlessly and stopping when he was buried to the hilt in her cunt, shocked that she could actually accomodate all of him.
Amy felt as though she were being split in half. Screaming and kicking she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, "Get off...let go...." She sobbed as she tried to squirm free.
Her struggles only heightened Mr. Johnson's arousal, and he grunted, burying his face in her ample bosom as he fought for control.
Eventually, her pain passed and Amy's fighting subsided into pitiful tears. Raising his head, Mr. Johnson sucked her nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.
Amy gasped as pleasure mingled with the remaining pain, and arched her back instinctively to bring her nipple closer to his mouth.
Mr. Johnson took his mouth from the first nipple and turned his attention to the next one, sucking the rosy flesh into his mouth hard. With his left hand still braced on the countertop, he slid his right hand between their bodies and began to lightly rub her clit. After years of experience, he had learned that pleasure slaves who had an orgasm in their first experience with a new master made better, more ardent lovers.
Amy arched her back even harder, all thought of rape, slavery, brands and imprisonment left her mind, there was only the hot mouth on her tit and the insistant fingers between her thighs.
As Amy started to squirm and moan more and more, Mr. Johnson began to slowly slide his cock in and out of her tight sex. He raised his head from her breast and caught her luscious lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with hers.
Amy's hands fisted above her head and her legs wound around his hips as she clung to him, pleasure warring with pain as she moaned and whimpered into his mouth.
Mr. Johnson pulled away from her lips, looking into her eyes as he watched her pleasure grow and grow until her cunt tightened even more around his cock and her entire body arched upward with a shriek of pleasure, eliciting a matching roar from him, his cum spilling into her body in torrents.
After a moment, both bodies relaxed and Mr. Johnson gently pulled his cock out of her dripping cunt. He reached for a paper towel from the roll he had set nearby and wiped his cock clean before returning it to his pants and zipping up his fly.
Turning around, he saw Amy laying flat on her back, limp as a rag and red as a beet. Saying nothing, he simply nudged her thighs apart and gently washed her cunt clean with another paper towel.
Tears trickled out of Amy's eyes and down her temples into her hair, but the aftermath of sex left her too exhausted to fight him anymore.
Mr. Johnson got a new paper towel and got it wet with some water from the bottle beside the lube, and gently wiped her face clean, then her breasts and stomach. Getting another towel, he wet it again and washed her ass and legs, then finished with her arms and hands, undoing the cotton restraints in the process.
Amy's palms were cut where her nails had dug in, and he carefully cleaned the cuts with peroxide, then rolled her onto her stomach without the slightest hint of resistance and cleaned the brand with soap and water which earned him a hiss of pain and a warning growl from his new slave, making him think of a stray kitten. With a smile on his face, he rubbed soothing silvadine cream on the burn then eased her off the counter and onto the floor.
Amy settled onto her knees, studying him through reddened eyes, "..why..?"
"Because a good master takes care of his slaves," Mr. Johnson replied quietly as he sank back onto the lowest step and studied her. "I don't know what you imagine the life of a pleasure slave is like, but it's probably not what you think."
"You mean I won't be raped and abused?" She asked in a slightly sarcastic tone of voice, a half-smile gracing her face for a moment.
"Not if you behave properly, you won't," he replied. "Understand that this is the only conversation you and I will ever have as equals. Like it or not, you are my property, and you are so far from home, even if you could manage to escape, which is doubtful, you will never make your way there again. I will give you half an hour of my time to answer any questions you may have, and then your training will begin and you will address me only as Master and I will call you Fucktoy until I think of a more suitable name."
Amy winced at the name. "Must it be Fucktoy?" She whispered, looking up at him beseechingly.
"Yes. Now, ask your questions," he replied with a smile, for he already knew what he would call her. Must of his girls he named after flowers or precious gems and metals, like Rose, Jade and Sapphire, but this girl was neither a blossom nor a jewel, and so he would call her Kitten.
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