Stephanie

He pulled out of her mouth, making her feel strangely empty, and she turned her eyes up to him, her eyes following him, watching as he turned and cleaned himself, the quite afterglow from her orgasm gently fading as he looked down at her there, kneeling before him on the cold bathroom floor, his spend slowly leaking from her, drying on her inner thighs, her lips bright and swollen and wet from cleaning him.  He smiled and touched her head, and she mewed softly, not knowing what was happening to her.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him as he pulled his clothes back on, her body relaxed, exhausted, her mind seemingly empty of anything except what was right before it. 

"Go get dressed, slave," he said, looking down at her as she dropped her eyes from his gaze, a blush spreading over her as she realized how much she had exposed herself, how she had humiliated herself.  "I know you have a full day of classes tomorrow, so come by at noon the day after.  I won't be here, but Jeff will.  He says he wants to fuck your ass again; Amy doesn't let him in her ass, and he really likes yours."

The words didn't register fully as she stood and walked to the front to retrieve her clothes.  No Steve tomorrow, a strange disappointment flooding her before she pushed it away.  She liked him, liked the games they played, but it was too much, too fast.  God, had she really played with herself in front of him?  Had she really told him that she was his slave, that he should punish her?  Her face burned in humiliation, even as she remembered how her body had reacted, how her skin had seemed to burn and her body shake with need.  How, how was it possible?  Was that really her?  And then the import of his words sunk in.  Jeff.  He was 'giving' her to Jeff as if he owned her. 

"No."  Apprehension fluttered in her stomach as the word came out of her mouth.  God, it had been so good with Jeff, but it had made her so ashamed, so ashamed that she was having sex with her best friend's boyfriend, so ashamed that she hadn't been able to stop herself.  She didn't want to start up again, she didn't.  She stuttered, and then continued.  "No.  I won't have sex with Jeff.  He's my best friend's boyfriend.  Not anymore.  I don't want to be like that."  Why was she so nervous about this?  "We can do anything, you can do anything, but not Jeff.  Please."

He turned, still seated, and stared at her, and she quivered at his silence.  She liked him, liked Steve, sex with Steve, in a way she hadn't with Jeff, and the sex, god the sex, was unbelievable, even though it scared her, even though the way she reacted, the way she turned herself over to him so completely, the way each humiliation, each small degradation made her pant with lust frightened her beyond belief.  She wanted to be with him, but not like this.

"Give me the choker, and the anklet."

It was as if he had punched her, her world seeming to fall away. 

"Please Steve, please...."

"Shut up.  Give me the choker and the anklet, and leave.  Oh, and leave my key too."

"Please Steve, it's wrong.  It's wrong for me to have sex with Jeff, please...."  She could feel tears in her eyes, and ran her hand across her face, her body, so hot just a few moments ago, was now so cold.

"A slave doesn't get to decide what's right or wrong.  A slave trusts her Master.  I don't want a slave, hell, I don't want a girlfriend, who doesn't trust me.  Go."

She didn't trust him?  She did, she did, she wanted to say, but it was wrong, what he had asked her to do was wrong, would hurt Amy--she couldn't do it.  All those weeks when she had been being used by Jeff had been wrong, no matter how good it had felt.  She had to stop it, had to keep it from happening again.  She felt a tear slide down her face as she took off the anklet and the choker and placed them on the side table by the door and leave.

Walking home, she was in a daze, the scene running over and over through her mind.  It was over?  It had just started, and now it was over?  Why was she crying?  Why did it hurt so much?  All he had done was humiliate her and use her for sex.  Jeff had raped her, they had beaten her.  God, what was wrong with her?  She shook her head, trying to clear it, and recalled the markings on her body, blushing.  Her fantasies, she thought, they had played on her fantasies, taking advantage.  That was it.  It had felt so good, though, so good to lose control, to give in.  She shuddered and tried to shut off her thoughts.

She was glad that Amy wasn't back yet, glad that she was all alone in her apartment.  She undressed; she needed a shower, needed to clean herself of sex and the markings down her torso.  "SLAVE".  She looked at it in the mirror, running her hand down the smeared, faded lipstick.  It was a fantasy, only a fantasy, she thought as she pulled on fresh panties and a night shirt.  She would take a shower later.  Now she just wanted to sit.

The front door opening shook her from her thoughts and she jerked up in surprise as her door was flung open. 

"Jeff, what the?  Amy isn't..."

"Steve called me.  Said you and he split."  A grin split his face.  "I figure you'll need someone to console you."

Surprise overwhelmed her, freezing her in place, as Jeff walked up to her, his hands gripping her head as she tried to pull back, leaned over, and kissed her, his lips hot on hers.  She pushed back, angry now, grunting into his mouth even as he pushed her back onto the bed, dragging her small body until he was on top of her, pinning her even as she struggled, his hands now around her wrists, holding them back over her head.

"Get off!  Get off!" she yelled, her lithe body squirming under his.

"Go ahead and scream, Stephanie.  I'm sure," he said, leveraging himself up onto his knees, leaning over her, one hand pinning her slender wrists above her head as the other slid her nightshirt up her body, "that when the police come, and Amy comes, and they see these letters on your body, and the whole story comes out, everything will work out for you just peachy."  He leaned down, his mouth finding her neck, sucking her flesh between his lips.

Oh god, oh god, Amy, her parents, her friends, they would all know.  Fear and humiliation flooded her.  She couldn't do anything, couldn't stop him.

"This is rape.  Jeff.  Rape.  You're raping me."

He pulled his lips from her neck and bared his teeth at her, his face mocking, his free hand slipping between her panties and her flesh, his fingers hooking up into her cunt, thrusting hard into her slick canal.  Her hips arched in surprise as a sharp pleasure shot through her.  When did she get wet again?  Why did his fingers feel so good?  Humiliation piled upon humiliation as he laughed in her face.

"You can't rape the willing."

------

"Please Jeff, please...", she whined, his fingers rubbing up against her cunt walls making her head spin, "I don't want this, please."

"Jesus, Steph, you have no idea how hot you are," he leaned down on her, covering her body with his, his fingers pulling out of her, sliding against her swollen clit.  "Like this, resisting, begging, when we both know you really, really want it, that you're just a teasing little slut."

She arched her back as his fingers smashed her clit, shocks of pleasure/pain making her body shiver, her mind spinning.  Why did it feel so good, so good?  Why was she trembling so much?  She didn't want this, but it felt, it felt....  She couldn't stop him, couldn't do anything, she was completely at his mercy, forced, against her will.  It was rape, rape, her mind seeming to melt along with her body.

"Okay, Steph," he spoke into her ear, his hot breath making her body flush, her nipples hardening underneath her sleeper, "I'll tell you what.  I won't fuck you unless you beg me to, okay?"

The words seemed to come from far away, and she nodded, hope filling her, and somewhere deep down some other feeling that she didn't understand.  Then his assault really began, his body heavy on hers, his legs between hers, his hand still holding her wrists above her head and his lips found her lips, and her neck, and her collar bones, leaving a burning trail of sensation across her flesh.  His free hand ran across her body, up her shirt, across her breasts, each brush across her nipples dragging a moan from her overly sensitized body, his hips pressing her down on the bed, the bulge in his pants joined with her pubic bone, smashing the tender flesh protected only by the thin layer of her panties, the pleasure almost making her gag.  Over it all, under it all, was her helplessness, his strength, his domination of her body, his weight holding her pinned to the bed, forcing her, making her take it, making her feel this pleasure.

The assault seemed to go on forever, until she was grinding her groin back up against his, her lips parting when his mouth found hers.

"Beg me to fuck you, Steph, beg me," he said, pulling back, only his hands and his hips holding her down now, looking down at her flushed, panting face, her lips parted in need.

Oh god, her body burned with need, her eyes captured by his face as he looked down at her; he was so big, so strong.  All she had to do was to say the words, say them and he would take her, right there, would give her the relief her body craved.  She couldn't, couldn't.  It was too humiliating, too wrong.  He was her best friend's boyfriend, and she had told Steve 'No'--Steve floated through her mind, the memory of the shock of his rejection cutting through her lust--so that she wouldn't be that person anymore, wouldn't be that person who fucks her best friend's boyfriend.

"No."

She cried out when he jerked her into a sitting position, dragging her arms behind her, his belt looping around and around her wrists as his body pressed against hers, and then she was back down again, her arms forcing her breasts forward, her hips tilted above her bound hands, his hands and lips and tongue all over her.

She closed her eyes, trying to think about other things, other things than how hot his mouth was on her nipples, how his fingers seem to draw burning sensations across her stomach and arms, how her wrists were bound beneath her, how helpless she was, how all Jeff saw her as was flesh, flesh for his pleasure, flesh upon which to gratify his own lust; about how firm his fingers were, twisting about in her cunt, sending sparks of pleasure rushing through her body, about how close to cumming she was as his fingers found her clit.

Again and again he teased her to the peak before letting her draw herself back, fighting her own pleasure, each time the peak seeming to get higher and higher, and every time he would stop and say, "Beg me, Steph, beg me," and every time she would whisper "No," at which he would laugh and continue tormenting her body.

A ringing phone interrupted him and he sat up, off of her body, only his fingers in her pussy still connecting him to her, still making her writhe and pant on the bed.

"Hey, Amy.  What's up?  Okay.  Yah.  Yah.  Five minutes?  I was just coming over to see you, so I'm close.  I'll have Steph let me in and I'll wait for you.  Yah.  See you soon.  Love yah.

"Too bad, Steph.  It looks like we'll have to continue this tomorrow.  You'd better get cleaned up before she gets here; you wouldn't want her to think we were fooling around," he smiled, and she hated him right then, but she hated herself more for being so disappointed that Amy was coming back.

------ 

Her clothes left a trail behind her as she staggered to the shower, her body trembling in need, denied lust fogging her mind.  Cold water sluiced over her body, the shock helping to clear her mind, cool her body, her trembling being replaced by shivering as the cold seemed to seem into her bones, displacing the heat that had made her want, so much, to beg for Jeff to take her, to rape her.  Through the shower she heard Amy come back and heard Jeff answer her, their voices mumbles through her water beating against her skin as she adjusted the heat of the water and began to soap herself clean.

Stephanie closed her eyes, remembering her first time, the time when Jeff had raped her in the shower of Bowles hall.  Raped.  The word seemed to make her body flare with lust.  He had raped her and then used her to satiate himself, and she had loved it.  Tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered how much it excited her, how much she had anticipated his arrival, her next use.  She felt the humiliation of it, the degradation of it, the pure wrongness of wanting her friend's boyfriend so much.  That was part of it, though, she knew, part of her fantasy, to be completely and utterly sexually possessed, to have her will mean nothing in the face of a man's lust, to have his desire for her be so powerful he desired to own her completely.

When she had been with Jeff, it was like Stephanie had disappeared and another girl, a slave-girl, a kajira, had taken her place, and she shuddered in the shower at the thought, her fingers sliding down to tease her clit, excusing herself for her weakness, needing to cum, needing to clear her mind of the lust which wouldn't let it be free from imagines of herself held down and raped, bound and beaten, used over and over again by Jeff, by Steve, by every other one of her male friends, each spitting on her in disgust at her depravity even as they vented their lusts on her body.  As pleasure grew, her fingers becoming more insistent, her mind flashed fantastic images and sensations to her, images and sensations that were more exciting for being true:  of the feel of the belt striking her skin in Steve's apartment, her arms held above her; of that moment of surrender when she apologized to Steve for refusing him and asked for punishment; of the image of herself in the mirror, just hours ago, marked as a slave, her body writhing and arching in pleasure; of the feel of the platinum choker around her neck, another around her ankle, marking her as owned.  She grunted as the orgasm took her, shaking a little in relief as her need peaked and then receded.

As she was stepping out of the shower, she shuddered as she realized the memory of the sensations that had sent her over the edge had been the simplest ones, that of the feel of the collar around her neck, the knowledge of being owned, completely owned, by another.  What was she going to do?

------

"Jeff.  You know you can stop calling me every hour."

"Sure.  Sure Steve.  Just tell me again why I don't just take that little slut and fuck the shit out of her like I was doing before."

"Really, Jeff?  Do I really need to do that?"

"Steve, it's been three days.  My balls are fucking turning blue.  Amy's getting pissed because all I want from her is to blow me, and I've been reduced to screwing Rosie.  So yes, I do need that."

"Okay, okay.  If you go back to just fucking Stephanie like you were before, either she'll break down and tell Amy or Amy'll figure it out, and, either way, you'll be screwed.  Think about it.  Your parents and her parents are friends.  I wonder how many hours you'd have to listen to your mother and her disappointment in you.  Amy and Stephanie and you travel in the same circle.  Amy and Stephanie would end their friendship, people would take sides.  You'd be the bad guy, and Stephanie wouldn't be much better.  It'd be a huge shitstorm for weeks.

"When she comes back to me, you'll be able to use her whenever you want.  I mean, she'll be going out with me.  You'll be coming over to visit me, and Stephanie will just happen to be there.  There is no way that Amy'll believe that you'd fuck her when I'm around, or that I'd let you.  It'll be perfect for you."

"Sure, sure.  But why hasn't she broken yet?  I've been playing with her for hours a fucking day, man.  I mean, you said it wouldn't be long before she'd be crawling back to you.  Jesus, you try to keep from raping the little bitch when she's writhing on the end of your fingers, moaning and tossing her head around."

"So she hasn't begged you to fuck her yet?"

"No.  If she had you'd think I'd be bitching about blue balls?"

"She fighting you at all?"

"No, man.  She's pretty submissive; always has been, except for that first time.  She won't give in, though."

"She'll give in.  Trust me.  I told you within a week, right?"

"Yah."

"Then give it a few more days.  Keep working on her.  Let her know what she's been missing.  Heh."

"Okay, okay.  I'll play it your way.  I just hope it pays off soon.  I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

"You break, she wins.  Remember that."

"Sure.  Got you.  Talk to you later, man."

"Bye."

------

Stephanie leaned her head against the side of the shower, the water beating against her back, her knees aching, uncomfortable in her kneeling position, panting as her fourth orgasm of the day left her.  It had only been three days, three torturous days where Jeff seemed to spend all his free time teasing her, playing with her, telling her what a needy little slut she was and that all she had to do was to beg him to fuck her and he'd take care of her needs.  She hadn't broken, but how she wanted to, how her body seemed to be constantly on fire, only an almost pathological level of masturbation keeping her from giving in, the release of an orgasm quieting her need, but not for long enough, not for long enough.

It wasn't working.  She knew it.  She had even started thinking about going to a club in SF and picking up some random guy to fuck, letting him crawl on top of her, his body hot and strong and hard, and slide himself inside her, taking her, possessing her, owning her.  She felt her body start to warm up again and she moaned in despair--she had to stop it.  Even her friends had started to notice that she was distracted.  Amy even teased her, saying she was obsessed about a man, and she had blushed, embarrassed by her friend's innocence and tormented by her own guilt.  Soon, she knew, soon she would give in, she would beg Jeff to take her, to fuck her, to rape her, anything, anything to relieve the need that rode with her almost every moment of the day, to dispel the dreams that had come, dreams of being bound and taken, of being forced to dance before the lusting gaze of hundreds of men, of crawling and writhing toward them in the flickering light of a fire, of being raped over and over, of offering herself to faceless bodies with cocks and fingers that would torment her until she woke up with her fingers buried in her cunt and an overwhelming need to cum.

She knew, too, that it wouldn't be enough.  As exciting, as fulfilling as it had been with Jeff, as it would be with Jeff, it wouldn't be enough.  He wanted her, would fuck her once or twice a day, but that's all she was to him, a fuck-hole, a place to put his dick to relieve an urge.  She shuddered, her fingers working their way back down her her clit as pictures of him using her filled her mind.  She couldn't deny it, wouldn't deny it anymore, that that was only part of what she wanted, part of what filled her fantasies.  Her hand gently rose to her neck and she remembered the chain that had been there, had signaled her slavery.  A kajira was more than just a fuck-hole, more than just masturatobory toy; a kajira was a valued possession, a treasured animal, a pet that was loved for its obedience, its beauty, its pliancy.  She wanted that, fantasized about that, and, ever since she had met Steve, ever since Steve had taken her, taken her by force, she needed that.

Captured, broken, raped, forced to learn what it meant to be a slave, trained to use her body to please, images of her fantasy rose up in her mind as she lost herself in the fantasy, one hand stroking her throat, the other playing over her swollen, needy clit as her fifth orgasm of the day welled up inside her, her heart racing, pushing from her mind the sure knowledge of what she knew she had to do.

------

As Steve stepped out of his shower and made his way to the kitchen, a towel still around his waist, he paused, just for a moment, as he saw Stephanie kneeling, naked, head down, legs spread, in Nadu, just inside his door.  His heart tripped, and he smiled inside as he continued to the kitchen, ignoring her, and pulled out a beer.  Luckily, he had been prepared for this moment.  A beer in hand, he walked over to her, looking down at her as she kept her gaze at his feet, taking in her nudity, her long, smooth, dark hair pulled back into a pony-tail, exposing the creamy flesh of her neck; her small, rounded breasts, moving slowly with her breathing, her nipples hard and demanding; her narrow waist, her stomach flat and sexy; her thighs, strong and lean and sexy, spread wide, exposing the glistening pink gash of her cunt, her body open to him, for him. 

Without saying a word he reached down and grabbed her hair and pulled her into leading position, a little surprised at how easily that term came to mind, dragging her after him into his bedroom.  He led her to the foot of his bed and pushed her back down to her knees, smiling as she resumed her Nadu position, the foot-board of the bed to her back.  Leaving her there, he pulled a tripod that was leaning against the wall and set it up, placing his video camera on top of it and putting Stephanie, nude, kneeling Stephanie, in the frame.

"Okay, Steph," he said, walking over to his desk chair and moving it behind the camera, sitting, still in his towel, "I assume you want me to take you back.  Well, you're a pretty bright girl; and you're damned fine; and I do love fucking you; and I especially love how much you get off on acting like a slave.  It really turns me on.  The problem, to me, is simple.  You don't trust me.  You don't trust me to give you what you want within your limits.  I tell you to fuck Jeff, and you tell me no.  You don't tell me your feelings, you don't tell me why you might not want to fuck him, you just say no.  Kajira don't get to say no, Steph.  You know that.  It doesn't mean that you cannot respectfully question my command.  With Jeff, I know you don't want to fuck him, and I know why.  Hell, he's your best friend's boyfriend.  He thinks first with his cock.  You might cum your brains out when he fucks you, but you can't enjoy betraying your friend like that.

"Yah, I know all that.  I also know that if you become my slave again, I will let him fuck you.  I owe him for introducing us.  I also know that if I don't, he'll go around telling everyone what a kinky slut you are.  I'm guessing you really don't want that, Steph, that you really don't want him talking about you like that, telling everyone what he's seen us do.  Besides, you're a slave, you don't have a choice.  You aren't betraying your best friend, I am, and he is.  You are simply doing what you're told.

"Now that that is out of the way, I'm going to tell you what you have to do if you want to become mine again.  It has to do with this video camera.  When I turn this video camera on, you are going to look right at it and tell it your dirty little secret, about how you came to want to be an owned fucktoy.  The whole time you will be playing with your slutty little cunt, and the grand finale, after you finish your tale, is that you'll have a nice big cum for the camera.

"You understand, Steph?  You are going to give me the power to completely and utterly humiliate you to everyone you know, and to millions of strangers.  You are going to have to trust me that I will not betray that trust.  Your choice, Steph, your choice."

She was terrified as she listened to him, the hope of his hands in her hair, of his leading her to his bedroom, replaced by the sinking feeling of rejection, the feeling that even debasing herself like this would not be enough, that she would be left to her own devices, her own needs overcoming her such that she would give in to Jeff, let Jeff use her, as unsatisfactory as that would be.  She trembled as she listened, one edge, wanting to speak, knowing she shouldn't, until he spoke those final words. 

Silence seemed to roar in her head; the choice, the choice....  Her body seemed to burn with those final words, to be humiliated like that, to be exposed to everyone, a video of her, of her telling everyone of her true nature even as she teased her aching clit.  Oh god, she burned--she wanted it so badly, so badly, even as she wanted to stand up and run back, put on her clothes, and leave.  He was just sitting there, watching her, almost nude, covered only by a towel:  she wanted to look up, wanted to see him, wanted to see his cock, but she was afraid to raise her eyes.

"So, Stephanie, do I turn the camera on or do you leave?"

She raised her eyes, looking not at Steve, but right at the camera, her body trembling.  "Please, Sir, please turn on the camera."

Smiling, Steve turned on the camera and sat back down, ready to enjoy the show.

------

"My name is Stephanie -----.  I am a junior attending U.C. Berkeley; I am 20 years old."  She paused, uncertain on how she should continue, her face red as she remembered that Steve had commanded her to masturbate.  She swallowed, her face red.  "I am kneeling here...here," she stuttered, one of her hands sliding down her thigh to brush against her cunt, "because I'm a slut.  Ah, god."  Her cunt felt swollen, her clitty already hard.  "I'm a slut who wants everyone to see what a dirty little girl she is."  Her consciousness seemed divorced from the words, her mind floating distantly.  "I'm a slut who wants you to watch as I play with my pussy.  I'm a slut who wants you to watch her cum.  Ahhhh," her body quivered as she concentrated on her clit, pleasure rolling through her body, the humiliation of what she was doing feeding it, feeding her perversity.

 

"It started...I guess it all started when I was 11.  I mean, this desire, this, oh god, consuming desire, to be seen as a, as a...a sexual thing.  It was when I was 11, that was when I first read John Norman's Gor books.  It was like I was reading, for the first time, about how a woman should be, about how I should be.  Sexy, desirable, wanted, lusted after....  Owned.  Free to be all of that because she was owned. Because she wasn't free, she could be herself, without censure, without constraints. Her true self.  It was like a revelation.  I was 11, and I wanted to be those women.  I still want to be them, to be a kajira, a slave-girl--wanted, owned, valued, possessed."

 

She paused, the camera catching her eyes, her unfocused eyes, as if they were looking inward, even as she moved her other hand to her breast, slipping across her nipples, teasing them, her other hand glistening with the juice slicking her swollen cunt, a red gash between her legs.

 

"It was all sexual back then, but not like now.  I really didn't know about sex then, didn't know anything.  I just knew that I needed to be sexy, and submissive, without really knowing what that meant.  It excited me, but, I guess, not really in a sexual way.  It is weird, really.  It didn't really become sexual until I was 12, when I first got my braces put on.  I mean, there I was, lying on a dentist's chair, unbound but helpless.  I mean, I was free, but I wasn't supposed to move, was just supposed to lie there, my mouth open, while the dentist did these things to me, these things....  They didn't hurt, not really, but it was close, like a pressure around my teeth as he tightened the braces, a...a...a sensation.... I don't know, but, anyway, it made me feel something down there, for the first time.

 

"When I got home, after, you know, I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop thinking about just laying there while a man played in my mouth, bound my mouth, and I started to think about Gor again, and kajiras, and how they would obey, even if it meant being whipped, and I found myself clenching my thighs together and unclenching them and it felt so gooooood."  She paused, her focus coming back, back to the camera, her hips rocking slightly back and forth, back and forth, her nipples being rolled gently between her fingers, her cunt being pierced by her other hand, her thighs quivering, her chest rising and falling more and more quickly.

 

"I came.  I still remember.  Oh god it was so good, my first cum.  It was so intense it hurt, and I wanted to stop, but I couldn't, didn't, and then it hit me and it was wonderful.  I was hooked.  I was a slut.  Every day I would think about sex, and think about being owned, and almost every day I would masturbate and cum.  I kept it secret, though.  I was a kajira in my fantasies, but a good girl for everyone else to see.  You are seeing my true self," she paused, looking at the camera, her fingers lazily teasing her cunt and nipples, "a slut who wants to be a slave, kneeling, pleasuring herself."

 

She was shaking now, her voice the only steady part of her, her words coming as if from somewhere deep inside her, as if she were telling a secret she had long prepared, long rehearsed, to tell, and only her body resisted, quivering and shaking and sweating even as the pleasure of her masturbation filled her, the humiliation of saying these things, saying them at all, and in front of a camera, filled her with dread and shame and yet thrilled something deep inside of her, thrilled that masochistic exhibitionist who trembled in excitement at being so exposed, thrilled that little girl laying on the dentist's chair, a man hovering over her, dominating her, controlling her.

 

"This slut," she gasped, knowing she needed to cum, wanting to cum, wanting to cum while the camera caught her, caught her expression, her need, her craving for the pleasure that was building within her, "this slut wants to cum.  Oh god.  Oh god.... Ahhhh!" she cried out, her whole body trembling, her body hunching over as her orgasm overwhelmed her, leaving tears in her eyes as she twisted her nipples and pinched her clit, trying to tear out every last bit of sensation from her cum.  When it was finally over, she returned to nadu position, looking down, her mind spinning, regretting, glad, happy, fearful--emotions blazing through her as she waited for Steve to act.

------

Steve stood and moved over to the camera, casually turning it off, his cock seeming to pulse with pleasure as he had watched Stephanie expose herself so fully, all for him.  "Very good, slave," he said, turning his eyes to her.

That word, "slave," seemed to flash through her mind like a strobe, clearing it of everything, an almost physical sense of relief flooding her.

"From now until I say otherwise," he continued, "you will be under the discipline of the she-quadruped.  You may moan; you may yip; you may scream; that's it.  Now, crawl to the closet there and retrieve the collar I have in there and bring it to me."

She still couldn't look at him; she was too embarrassed by what she had just done, too embarrassed by her relief in being accepted by him again, too excited at his command for her to suffer the discipline of the she-quadruped to look at him.  She fell down onto her hands and knees and started to crawl over to the closet, acutely conscious of him as he watched her, as he backed up and sat back down, his eyes on her body, her nude body, crawling for him, debasing herself for him.  Every motion of her body--so unnatural, to crawl so--reminded her that she was watched, her thighs sliding against each other, her breasts hanging, jiggling, beneath her, the floor hard against her knees, her hands, her wrists twinging, her hair falling down past her face as she kept her eyes down. 

She listened as he pulled his phone from his pocket, opening the closet door with one hand, careful not to use her thumb--he had said she was to act as a beast, and he was watching.  She listened as he dialed, pawing through the bottom of the closet looking for a collar, her collar, feeling her body heat up at the thought, a pleasurable flush filling her groin, her mind starting to fog.

"Hey, Jeff," she heard him say, and she stopped in shock, a shudder racking her body.  She had known that he would let Jeff use her, but not so soon, not now.  She felt like she was going to cry, and then her eyes found the collar.  It was a simple, leather dog collar, with chrome spikes around most of it and a single loop next to the buckle for a leash.  Thoughts of Jeff left her mind and she almost reached out for it, remembering only at the last moment that she was not to use her hands.

"My bitch is back.  Yah.  She's right here, crawling for me.  Yep.  That's right.  The sooner the better.  Okay.  Okay.  I'll see you in a few.  Bye." 

The words seemed to flow into her, through her, running around her body as she lifted the collar with her teeth, tasting the leather against her tongue.  They filled her body, flooding it with lust, her mind fogging, her thoughts narrowing to the feel of her own body, of its movements as she crawled back to him, of the sensation of the collar between her teeth, of how she was a bitch, a dog, an animal, her Master's pet, her Master's pet that he was going to show off to his friend.  She wanted him, wanted him to touch her, to mount her, to use her like a wild beast; she could feel herself start to whimper with need deep down in her chest as she turned her head up to him, offering him her collar.

He smiled down at her as she lifted the collar up to him, crawling, a tiny, almost whine coming from her as he took the proffered collar and tossed it onto the bed.  "Not yet, Steph.  After your punishment is done, after I release you from the discipline of the she-quadruped, then you will wear the collar.  Now, crawl into the living room, in front of the TV, and get down on your elbows, ass up.  Jeff will be here soon, and I suspect he'll want to fuck you."

She almost moaned in disappointment, the need inside her growing.  She found herself wanting Jeff, wanting him to come in and see her, see her kneeling and obedient, see her willingness to be used, to give him pleasure, at Steve's command. 

------

Every minute she knelt, every second that passed, seemed to build the tension inside her body, the waiting almost a torture, feeling every inch of her nudity, of the way she arched her back, of how her weight pressed against her elbows and forearms and knees, of how exposed she was, her body parallel to the couch, her ass raised high.  Time ticked by slowly, ever so slowly, as she listened to Steve, to her Master, walk around the house, her eyes closed, willing him to take her, willing Jeff to come and take her, clenching and unclenching her inner muscles just to feel that fleeting moment of pleasure deep inside her groin.  She had never felt so much a possession, had never been so deep before, everything submission before a prelude to this moment when she had given everything up, had given up her deepest, darkest secret, had had it taped--she shivered as she realized how much power she had given him, her Master, how he could ruin her, destroy her; the very thought made her body burn with both humiliation and lust.  She wanted him to do it, to show it to everyone, to make her a pariah, and outcast, good only to be used as a kneeling slave.

She jerked as she heard a knock on the door, and then Jeff was there, loud footsteps and a loud voice.  "Where's the little bitch," she heard him say, and then, "Ah, there you are, Steph.  Looking good, you teasing bitch.  I've been waiting for three days now, you stupid cunt, and I'm really going to enjoy this."

"First, though," he said, making her quiver, her eyes still closed, "I'm going to make your ass nice and red for giving me such a fucking case of blue-balls.  Damn, girl, you even managed to get Amy pissed at me I was asking for so many blowjobs.  She just didn't understand that her best friend was making me so horny."

She heard it before she felt it, a 'woosh' through the air, and then it struck her, her body jerking, pain lancing through her ass, his words mingling with the slap of the belt across her flesh.  "Bitch.  Teasing.  Little.  Fucking.  Bitch.  Sexy.  Fucking.  Cunt.  Damned.  Gonna.  Fucking.  Hurt.  You.  Damned.  Slut."  She was moaning, tears running down her face, dripping onto the hardwood floor, her ass burning, pain filling her body, her lust unabated, wanting him to stop only so that he would fuck her, the pain a repentance, a catharsis, her body rocking forward with each blow, seeming to sway backward into the next. 

Then it stopped, and she sobbed in pain and need as she heard him step out of his pants, waited as he fumbled, remembering that he had to put on a condom to use her now--she was Steve's, and Jeff had to follow his rules to use his property, the thought making her almost cry out for him to use her.  Then his hands were gripping her hips and his cock, cold in its sleeve, covered with lube, pressed up against her ass. At first it was slow, pressing into her nether hole, making her tremble as she felt herself give, her anus opening under the pressure, and then, suddenly, his hips jerked forward, and she screamed out as her ass was filled, as his hips slammed into her ass cheeks, her whole body jerked forward, pain and pleasure mixing, her cunt spasming in jealousy as Jeff started riding her hard.

"Fucking teasing cunt," he growled, pounding into her, thrusting forward each time as if trying to drive her whole body into the ground, as if trying to punch his cock through her body, to skewer her from ass to mouth.  His hands on her hips hurt; his cock pounding her ass hurt; but just the right amount, it hurt just the right amount to be so good, so good she thought she was going to pass out, so good she thought she was going to explode.  He stopped, her body trembling against hers, his hands digging harder into her hips, making her moan, and she knew he was cumming, disappointment flooding her, and she groaned, humping back at him, trying to relieve the burning need in her cunt.