THE INSTRUMENT

by Rynna Cress

APC Publishing

©2011

This is an adult story focused on themes of bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism. Subject matter includes explicit sexual activity and increasingly intense BDSM scenes. If you find such material to be offensive, or if you live in an area where it is illegal or prohibited to own such material, then you should stop reading now.

Otherwise… enjoy.

-RC

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

EPILOGUE

part 1

“Today is going to be different.”

Zoe stared at her reflection in the dirty mirror, daring it to disagree. She turned on the water, wrinkling her nose as the faucet hissed and spit own rusty, brownish liquid before finally running clear. After a moment, she sighed and splashed some over her face and through her dark purple Mohawk. She liked to tell people that the Mohawk was just part of her look, and it was, but in reality, it really came down to practicality. If people were going to notice her hair, she wanted them to notice it because it was unique, not because it was filthy.

She looked up into the mirror again, her reflection obscured by the cloudy, cracked glass. At 24 years old, she had a smallish, mousy build, which gave a certain defensive quality to her sense of style. The ring in her nose, the tiger tattoo on the back of her neck, the tattered leather jacket, the mangy purple hair – it was all a warning, a necessary adaptation for a vulnerable girl living in a too-tough world. Don’t fucking underestimate me, it all seemed to say.

Her guitar strapped to her back, she cautiously stepped out into the alley through a thick wooden door, padlocking it behind her. She was careful not to let anybody see her coming or going. The warehouse basement was pretty grimy, but it definitely beat sleeping under a bridge. The last thing she needed was someone realizing she was squatting and kicking her back out onto the streets. What’s more, she had heard blood-chilling tales of homeless girls getting attacked and gang-raped, or worse. She might have been a lot of things, but Zoe was determined never to be a victim.

It was early in the day, and the waves of tourists hadn’t yet filled the streets of the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. Still, Zoe needed to be there to stake her claim on the corner she liked – this was prime real estate for desperate, struggling musicians. Luckily for her, she didn’t have any competition yet today, save for a homeless lump snoring loudly on a bench under heaps of ratty blankets.

She leaned up against a building and pulled her guitar out of its case, a scarred, beat up old pinewood acoustic with an extra hole cracked in its body. Not the most attractive instrument to some, maybe, but to Zoe, it was perfect. Despite the scuffs, the slightly bent neck, the jagged hole, and all of its other imperfections, it still played. She liked to think it was hanging on just for her, as if she gave it meaning. That, in turn, kept her going. If the guitar could hang in there, then so could she.

She strummed out a chord or two, tweaking the tuning and ignoring a sleepy grumble from the homeless bench-dweller. The morning rush would start soon, and she wanted to be ready to perform, but for now, she just wanted to enjoy the solitude and play for herself. She loved performing, but the pressure of literally singing for her supper day in and day out was beyond draining. During these quiet mornings, she liked to play without that pressure, not because she needed someone to drop a dollar into her guitar case, but simply because she loved to play. In a world where she had next to nothing, it was just about the only voice she had left.

This was why, when the homeless man abruptly sat up on his bench and interrupted her song to tell her to shut the fuck up, she literally had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from screaming at him. She took a few deep breaths, realizing that she had bitten too hard, drawing blood on both sides. No matter, she thought, spitting pink in the man’s direction. She dug around her pockets, finding a few bucks in change left over from yesterday’s street performances. “Here,” she said, handing the money over to the homeless man, “is this enough to get you to find another bench?” He looked her over, sizing her up, then finally grumbled incoherently, grabbed the last of her cash, and began shuffling off. Fuck, she thought to herself. So much for breakfast.

“Not exactly your ideal audience.” Zoe turned to find an attractive, professional-looking woman of perhaps 40 standing in a coffee shop doorway, latte in hand, watching her. Her long, light brown hair, pale skin, and soft, graceful features gave her an almost animal-like beauty. Zoe was slightly struck – it wasn’t often that she appreciated another woman’s looks, let alone even noticed them.

“Aren’t they typically supposed to pay you?” the woman asked.

“Sometimes,” Zoe answered coldly. She didn’t like the thought of being watched and not knowing it. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you play a bit,” the woman said. “Finish that song for me.”

Zoe wasn’t used to such a commanding tone from her listeners, but she shrugged - might as well get an early start on winning the tourists over. She quickly launched back into the final verses of her song, skillfully picking up as if nothing had happened. Of course, it was different now with someone watching, but Zoe didn’t care. If there was one skill she had learned, it was how to shut the world out. All she had to do was close -

“Open your eyes.”

Zoe stopped playing, opening her eyes to look the woman over with a gaze that said, did you really just fucking interrupt me? “I’m sorry,” the woman said, reading Zoe’s look, “I just want to see your eyes when you’re playing.”

“That’s weird.” Zoe flatly told her. The woman only smiled and shrugged, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out of her purse.

“Humor me.”

Eyes open, Zoe began playing again, finding herself looking anywhere except towards the woman. She could feel her piercing gaze, and it made Zoe intensely self-conscious, an unfamiliar feeling to her. When she finished the song, she finally stopped avoiding her. They met eyes, and though Zoe’s instincts told her to look elsewhere, an even stronger feeling told her not to dare look away. The woman smiled at Zoe, then walked over and handed her the bill.

“You push people away, but your music begs them to come back,” she said. “I’m very intrigued.”

“Thanks,” Zoe said in a weak, unsure voice, the voice of something naked, something exposed. The woman walked away, leaving Zoe feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. She looked down at the bill in her hand – it was folded around a business card. CLARE MADDOX, it read, PRODUCER, along with an address, circled. She flipped the card over – the back read, “tonight, 8:00 PM sharp.”

She wasn’t sure why exactly, but Zoe’s throat suddenly went dry.

**********

Zoe looked at her watch – 8:06 PM – then back up at the home in front of her, a beautiful mountainside townhouse overlooking the Pacific. Damn, she thought to herself as she rang the bell, nervous and not sure why. A few moments passed before the door opened, revealing Clare in a long, white cotton dress.

“You’re late,” she said softly.

“Had to take the bus,” Zoe responded, trying not to sound defensive, “and it’s not exactly as if you live near a bus stop.”

Clare smiled. “I didn’t think you would come, but I’m glad that you made it, and I’m glad you brought your guitar.”

“I don’t go anywhere without it,” Zoe said, patting the shoulder strap. “So… what am I doing here?”

“Please,” she answered, “come in.”

Zoe followed Clare inside, gladly accepting the water that Clare offered. It was hot out, and lugging the guitar up into the hills on foot had been exhausting. She was more than happy to sit down at Clare’s bar when offered a seat.

“I didn’t get your name this morning…” Clare began, sitting next to her.

“It’s Zoe. Zoe Drake.”

“Zoe. Hm...” She poured a glass of lemonade from a pitcher, took a sip, then finally added, “I’m Clare, and I thought that your music was quite impressive.”

“Uh, thanks,” Zoe said, beginning to wonder where this was going. “Although you only heard one song.”

“I’d like to hear more.”

“Are you a music producer?”

“Sometimes,” Clare answered. “I work on projects wherever they may turn up, so long as they interest me.”

“And I… interest you?” Zoe asked, more quizzical than flirtatious.

“So far,” Clare answered, adding, “I think you have a great deal of potential.”

Zoe didn’t really know what to say, and again, could feel Clare’s gaze piercing into her. Finally, she spat out, “Look, don’t take this the wrong way… but are you some kind of dyke or something?” Clare laughed softly and took another sip of her drink. “Because that’s fine,” Zoe clarified, “but I’m not really into that, so…”

“I just want to help you,” Clare offered. “You’re living in the streets, right?”

“I’ve got a place.”

“Of course you do. And does it have a shower? A roof?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you look dirty and worn down,” Clare said, bluntly. “You look like your music is all you have.”

“So?” Zoe answered, denying nothing.

“So I want to give you more,” Clare said. She paused for a moment, and Zoe wondered what all she meant. As if sensing this, Clare went on. “A friend of mine owns a studio not far from here. I’ve already called him, and he’s very interested to hear you play for him tomorrow morning. He’ll record you, give your sound a professional mix, and then help you get it to the right people. I can’t promise that the record labels will be knocking your door down, but…”

Clare stopped. Zoe sat very still, her head bent. “Zoe?”

Zoe finally looked up, meeting Clare’s gaze. She had been working the streets for over two years now, and no one had ever taken notice of her or tried to help her. She had become totally used to being on her own, an independent, guarded creature. Now, with this woman offering to help, she was in foreign territory, a feeling that put her into an unexpectedly vulnerable headspace. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Clare thought it over before answering. “I told you this morning,” she said, “You intrigue me.”

They looked each other over for a few moments, a brief, silent conversation. Zoe felt like her defenses – the purple hair, the leather jacket, the gruff attitude – were completely useless with this woman. She felt a nervous energy that she didn’t recognize, but for some reason enjoyed. It was a feeling of powerlessness, the feeling that without her walls, she would have nothing, but she would also have nothing to bear. It was an intoxicating thought.

Finally, Clare broke the silence. “I want you to be able to trust me, Zoe,” she said. Zoe’s mouth went dry again, and she could only nod her head. She wondered if Clare was going to kiss her, and to her amazement, found herself wishing that she would. She swallowed hard, realizing that she had unconsciously turned on her stool to face her body towards Clare, her legs slightly spread, her body flexing its weight down onto her seat, enjoying the pressure between her legs. Holy shit, she thought to herself, I’m practically begging this woman to make a move.

Suddenly self-conscious, Zoe turned back to her glass of water, crossing her legs. Clare smiled, enjoying watching this beautiful young creature crumbling before her. “I want you to stay here tonight,” she told Zoe. “I have a guest room prepared for you. But first, why don’t you take a shower?”

Zoe could hardly believe the words that came inexplicably out of her own mouth. “As you wish.”

**********

Clare showed Zoe to the bathroom, a luxurious room decorated with black and grey tile and golden brass fixtures. Zoe couldn’t remember the last time she had showered in anything nicer than a truck stop restroom, and she had to make a conscious effort to contain her excitement in front of Clare.

“Just leave your clothes on the counter there by the door,” Clare told her. “I’ll get them into the wash while you’re cleaning up. There’s a bathrobe you can wear hanging in the tall cupboard over there.”

And with that, she stepped out of the room, leaving Zoe alone. As excited as she was for a hot shower in this beautiful bathroom, she couldn’t help but hesitate. In Zoe’s world, everything came with a price, and she wondered what the price was going to be for all of the luxury this woman was so generously offering her. She still wondered if Clare was looking for sex, and tried to imagine how she would react if the mysterious woman made a move. People had often assumed that Zoe was queer, what with the hair and the leather jacket, but in reality, she had never really been attracted to a woman. But at the bar just now, Zoe had been legitimately aroused. She unbuttoned her fly and reached down into her crotch – Zoe wasn’t wearing panties, and her wetness had definitely soaked into her jeans. Damn, she thought, did she really want this woman washing these?

But what choice did she have? Zoe stepped out of her boots and socks, then slid the jeans down over her hips, stepping out of them as she pulled off her jacket and hung it on the door. Then, she pulled off her tank top, revealing two perfectly round breasts, studs pierced through each nipple. She gathered the clothing by the door as instructed, and a strange thought hit her – when was the last time she had been totally naked? It had been months since she’d fucked anyone and weeks since her last shower, and she always slept in her clothes out of fear someone might try and break into the warehouse in the middle of the night. She honestly couldn’t remember, she realized, and now here she was, naked in a stranger’s house. Today was different indeed.

After weeks of splashing cold, dirty water over her face every morning, the hot, steaming water from the shower felt amazing splashing across her hand, the temperature just perfect. She stepped in, giving an involuntary gasp as the water washed over her hair and body. She had given up on the luxury of comfort long ago, and forgotten how amazing a good shower could feel. As she began lathering soap onto her shoulders and breasts, she couldn’t help but smile.

Then she thought about where she was, and about Clare, the woman who had made her intensely aroused with just a couple of words. Zoe replayed them in her head – I want you to be able to trust me. Zoe realized that she wanted to be able to trust her, too – desperately. It had been ages since she had been able to trust anyone, and she wasn’t sure if she knew how to do it anymore.

She began spreading the suds over her body, scrubbing at her hands and arms, then down her stomach and legs, then back up her thighs. Delicately, she began washing her pussy, knowing full well how sensitive it currently was. Just touching it sent hopeful waves of pleasure through her body – she wanted more. She couldn’t help herself, and started gently rubbing at her clit, working to give herself the release she was so desperately craving. Part of her was angry at Clare for turning her on, for making her want this, and she wasn’t quite sure why. She was fighting it in her head, even as she continued touching herself, harder and faster. Something about the struggle turned her on even more.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the tile, moaning softly as she rubbed at her clit, squeezing her legs against her hand in rhythmic pulses. In her head, all she could think about was Clare. She wondered what her slender body looked like under that cotton dress, wondered if she was shaved. She had never thought about another woman like this – what was it about Clare that put these thoughts into her head? Zoe didn’t know, and not knowing made her feel helpless. And feeling helpless made her feel…

She didn’t want to finish the thought, but it was already there – feeling helpless felt good. It felt freeing. And it made her horny as fuck.

Her fingers began teasing between her pussy’s lips, working down from her swollen clit. She whimpered, her breathing growing fast and labored – fuck, she was already close. In her head, she knew it was Clare’s hand between her legs, and she felt powerless to fantasize about anything else. She clamped her thighs down, squeezing and trapping her hand, her body tensing as she began a long, steady climax that felt like electricity coursing through her veins. She grunted, grabbing at one of her breasts and squeezing it violently, unconsciously enjoying the blend of pain and pleasure. She bent over, out of breath, then slowly pulled her hand out of her crotch. Goddamn, she thought.

Then, a sound – at least she thought it was a sound. Her head shot up, her eyes opening. Was that a door closing? The room was empty… and her clothes were gone. Had Clare just been in here? Had she seen…?

Zoe instinctively folded her arms over her chest, covering her breasts. Fuck…

**********

Zoe stepped out of the bathroom donned in Clare’s black silk bathrobe, and found Clare seated at her desk, typing away at a laptop, her back to Zoe.

“Your clothes just went into the dryer,” she said without turning around. “They’ll be about an hour – I hope that’s all right.”

“Sure, I guess.” Zoe said. Was this all part of Clare’s game, an excuse to have a nearly-naked Zoe at Clare’s fingertips? Zoe couldn’t tell, but if Clare was going to make a move, now was the time. She waited, unsure of what to expect.

Clare finally turned from her computer, slamming it shut, looking stressed and irritated. “Look,” she said, “I have to leave and attend to a rather demanding client of mine. I would take you with me, but…”

“But I’m wearing a bathrobe,” Zoe finished. Clare nodded.

“He lives nearby, so I won’t be gone long,” She said. “There’s plenty of food in the kitchen that you’re welcome to help yourself to if you’re hungry.” Clare paused, looking Zoe in the eye. “I’m trusting you,” she finally added. “Do you understand that?”

“Of course I do,” Zoe assured her. “Look, I’m not a criminal, and I’m not about to ruin the one good thing that’s happened to me since… well, since I can remember. I’m not stupid.”

Clare smiled. “Good, of course not. I won’t be long.”

And she hurried out, purse in hand, leaving Zoe alone with her thoughts once more. She didn’t know what she had expected coming out from her shower, but it certainly wasn’t this. Maybe she had just misread Clare entirely. The thought gave her a strange sense of guilt over her fantasy in the shower, like she had indulged in a sentiment that was supposed to be shared. Don’t be stupid, Zoe, she told herself, rolling her eyes.

She made her way into the kitchen, and found the ingredients to make a sandwich. It felt humanizing making her own meal in a kitchen, but she found herself missing Clare, and wishing that she hadn’t had to leave. The woman was still an enigma to Zoe, and sharing a meal might have been a perfect opportunity to get a better sense of her motives, or at least to get to know her better. And what was more, Clare had said that she found Zoe intriguing, and even though she wasn’t sure that she knew exactly what that meant, Zoe couldn’t deny that it felt decidedly satisfying to know that this woman found her very presence to be pleasing.

Sandwich in hand, Zoe made her way back to the bar. She moved to refill her water glass with lemonade, but stopped. There, behind the bar, was a small liquor cabinet. She swallowed hard, staring at the bottles behind the glass, and softly set the pitcher down.

Damn it. She had been sober for over three months now, fighting her way through the alcoholism that had helped put her out on the streets. She had learned to avoid liquor stores, to avoid the kinds of people that made her want to drink, to avoid alcohol entirely – out of sight, out of mind. But now, here it was, staring her in the face, very much on her mind. Booze, lots of it.

Zoe couldn’t resist. She at least wanted to hold one of the bottles, just look at the alcohol sloshing around inside. She wasn’t going to drink anything, she told herself… she just wanted to hold it. It was brinksmanship. She had to get as close as possible to the stuff before rejecting it, that was all. She’d just hold the bottle in her hand, then she’d put it back…

Of course, it wasn’t that easy, Zoe knew. She could feel her lingering alcoholism, with thoughts like these begging her to give in, to just open the cabinet and take a bottle out and see what happened. Just leave the room, Zoe, she told herself. Go eat your sandwich in the kitchen…

But finally, she gave in, racing to her knees in front of the cabinet and pulling at the handle. It was locked. Thank God, a part of her thought, but it was quickly drowned out by thoughts of finding a key. Again, she gave in, rummaging through the bar for a key, finding nothing. She was growing desperate. Just eat your sandwich in the fucking kitchen, she was screaming to herself inside. But the alcoholism had taken over, seizing on a moment of weakness, taking control of her actions. Zoe could pick that lock, she knew it. All she needed was…

A paper clip would do the trick. She raced to Clare’s desk, nearly yanking the drawer out entirely, pouring through its contents, finally finding one. She quickly bent it into a pick, then hurried back over to the cabinet, jamming it into the lock. C’mon, she thought, c’mon…

“What the hell are you doing?”

Zoe jolted upright – Clare had returned. The two locked eyes, Zoe’s face filled with shame.

“I…” She began, not able to find an answer. Clare began calmly moving towards her, and Zoe wondered if she should bolt. Something inside told her not to. She looked down at the ground, guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said, weakly. “I just really wanted a drink.”

“Look at me, Zoe,” Clare said, her voice alarmingly quiet. Zoe looked up, matching Clare’s stern gaze, tears starting to well in her eyes. Clare reached down, eyes still locked with Zoe’s, and slowly untied her bathrobe, pulling the belt out entirely. Zoe gasped, feeling Clare’s fingers brush against her stomach and sides – this was the first time Clare had touched her, and Zoe could feel the immense gravity of the moment.

“What… what are you doing?” Zoe stammered, but Clare offered no answer. Instead, she grabbed Zoe’s shoulder and turned her around, pleased to see the pale girl following her lead. She stepped close behind Zoe, hands on her shoulders, their bodies grazing each other, and whispered in her ear, “I said I wanted to help you, and I still do. Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes,” Zoe whispered, barely audible and far faster she could have expected.

“Say it,” Clare demanded.

“Yes. I want you to help me.” Zoe said, her voice beginning to tremble.

“Good,” Clare said, as she pulled the robe off Zoe’s shoulders. Zoe gasped as it fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked, mostly surprised by the fact that she had naturally put up no resistance. This woman had her now, she knew, and whatever this was, it was about to happen. Clare took Zoe’s hands, gently pulling her arms behind her back and deftly tying them together with the belt, leaving her exposed and powerless. Then, with a grasp that was both firm and gentle, Clare gripped a fistful of Zoe’s hair and guided her head down, holding her face against the bar and gently rubbing her bare ass with her other hand.

“I want you to stare at that liquor cabinet,” Clare said, “and answer my questions. Can you do that, Zoe?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice shaky.

“Don’t be afraid,” Clare whispered. “You have an alcohol problem, don’t you?”

“I did,” Zoe responded, her eyes fixed on the liquor cabinet. “I’m trying to get better.”

WHAP! Clare’s hand connected with Zoe’s pale, exposed ass, a quick, stinging slap that made Zoe’s eyes go wide. “I asked you a question,” Clare said, soft yet stern. “I didn’t ask for excuses or explanations. Do you have an alcohol problem?”

Zoe could feel the tears continuing to well in her eyes as she answered, “Yes.”

WHAP! Another smack on the same cheek, causing Zoe to whimper. “Say my name when you answer me. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

WHAP! “Yes what?”

“Yes, Clare,” Zoe said, surprised to find her voice growing in strength.

“Good,” Clare reassured her, lightly caressing Zoe’s slowly reddening ass. “When was the last time that you drank?”

“About three months ago. Clare.”

WHAP! “Are you lying to me?”

“No!” Zoe protested through a wince, gritting her teeth as yet another strong smack came down. “No, Clare!”

“So you don’t want to drink, do you?” Clare asked.

“No, Clare. I told you, I’m trying.”

WHAP! Zoe grunted, the stinging pain beginning to linger with each slap. “You said you wanted a drink. You were trying to break into the cabinet. Clearly, you want to drink.”

Zoe was silent, not wanting to answer. WHAP! “Yes, Clare, yes,” she quickly stammered. “I want to drink.”

“So what you really want is not to want to drink,” Clare asked, “is that right?”

“Yes, Clare,” Zoe said, shutting her eyes tight, focusing on enduring the pain.

WHAP! “Open your eyes, Zoe. I said I wanted you to look at that cabinet.” Zoe obeyed, ashamed. “That’s better. Now tell me, I’ve been very kind to you, haven’t I?”

“Yes, Clare, yes.”

“And you want to please me, don’t you?”

“I… I’m beyond grateful for…”

WHAP! “Answer the question.”

Zoe struggled to form the words, but finally felt the last of her will to resist disintegrating. Finally, she answered, “Yes, Clare.”

WHAP! “Yes, Clare what?”

“Yes, Clare… I want to please you.”

Clare smiled. “Good. Because seeing as how you’re a recovering alcoholic, it would please me very much if you didn’t want alcohol. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clare… I understand.”

“Good.” Clare relaxed her grip on Zoe’s hair, guiding her back up to a standing position. “Now you can stay here as long as you like, and leave whenever you wish,” Clare said softly. “As long as you’re here, I will care for you and I will help you, but you will follow my rules. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“Do you wish to stay?”

Zoe took a deep breath before turning to look Clare in the eye, answering in a hushed, almost ashamed voice, “Yes, Clare.”

Clare smiled, looking deep into her new pet’s eyes. “Good girl,” she said softly.

Just the sound of it made Zoe shiver with satisfaction.

“Now, in my house, we don’t waste anything,” Clare stated. “So before anything else, you’re going to eat your sandwich.”

Zoe turned to look at the sandwich, sitting on a plate on the bar, forgotten. She turned back to Clare, beginning to try and escape her bonds, surprised by how effectively they restrained her.

“But… my arms… my hands…” Zoe began.

“Use of your hands – or any other part of your body, for that matter – is a privilege. Your arms are tied because I can’t trust you yet,” Clare said. “Ten minutes ago, you were trying to break into that liquor cabinet, remember?”

“…Yes Clare, but…”

“But nothing,” Clare quickly said. “Eat the sandwich. Now.”

Zoe turned back to the sandwich, looking at it for a moment, hesitating. Again, Clare quickly grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her face down to the plate.

“Are you a good girl, or are you a little bitch? Eat.” She snarled. Zoe, fearful of this new tone, quickly took a large, dehumanizing bite out of the sandwich.

Clare relaxed her grip on Zoe’s head. “Now I’m going to go change clothes. When I get back, that plate had better be licked clean, do you understand me?”

Zoe could only nod through the messy mouthful. “Mmm-hmmf.”

“Good girl.”

**********

Clare returned to the living room, finding Zoe still bent over the bar, her cheek resting on the cleaned plate. She smiled to herself, enjoying the view of her new plaything – a strong, lean body, pale skin save for her tight little ass, still pink from the spanking, legs slightly spread… This girl was a special find, Clare thought to herself. Beautiful, obedient, and naturally submissive even if she didn’t fully realize it yet… Yes, she was going to enjoy breaking her in.

Zoe lifted her head, sensing Clare’s presence, and craned her neck to see her. She stood wearing only the black robe, hanging open without the belt, offering a shadowy glimpse of her naked body underneath. Clare smiled at her. “Such a good girl,” she said.

“Thank you, Clare,” Zoe said, quickly growing accustomed to her new role, surprised by how much she was enjoying it. She had been wet ever since that first touch, even during the pain of the spanking, even alone, eating the sandwich like an animal. It had nearly driven her mad having her arms tied behind her back – she would have given anything to be able to touch herself, if only for a few moments. The waiting was torturous, which only made her even wetter.

“Come here,” Clare commanded. Zoe obeyed, straightening up and making her way before Clare. Clare eyed her up and down, inspecting her girl. She reached out, wiping a small smear of avocado off of Zoe’s chin with her thumb, and then slid the thumb into her mouth. Zoe closed her eyes, grazing her tongue over Clare’s thumb, sucking it gently.

“Such a good little slut,” Clare said through a laugh. “And you said you weren’t into women.” Zoe could only offer a pouty, muffled whimper, as Clare began working her thumb in and out of her mouth with a slow, seductive rhythm.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” Clare demanded, pulling her thumb out of Zoe’s mouth, watching as her green eyes slowly opened and met her gaze. “Part of pleasing me means being my good little slut, and that means that I do what I want with you, and you do what I tell you to do. Do you understand me?”

Zoe nodded slowly. “Yes, Clare,” she said, her voice betraying the fear she felt, adding, “I’ve never done anything like this before…”

“You mean with another woman, or as a submissive?” Clare asked.

Submissive, Zoe thought to herself, so that’s what this feeling was called. “Neither, Clare.” She finally said.

“And are you afraid?”

Zoe nodded.

“Say it.”

“I am afraid, Clare.”

“And what are you afraid of?” Clare asked, still wearing that soft, mysterious smile, still locking eyes with Zoe.

“I’m… I’m afraid of what you’ll do with me.”

“And why is that?”

Zoe thought long about her answer, as if she needed to choose her words carefully. She didn’t – she knew exactly what to say as soon as the question was posed. It was the answer itself that frightened her.

“I’m afraid because I know I’ll let you do it.”

Clare smiled and nodded, placing a hand on Zoe’s cheek.

“Yes, you will, girl,” she said, and Zoe’s eyes, as if ashamed, lowered to the floor. “Look at me.” Zoe obeyed, and Clare looked at her long and hard. “Do you trust me?” she asked. Again, Zoe took her time, thinking through the implications of her words, knowing full well what was hanging on her answer. Finally, with a solemn voice, she responded:

“Yes, Clare.”

“Good,” Clare responded, taking Zoe’s other cheek in her other hand, cupping her face. “Because you need to know that I will not harm you. I will hurt you when necessary, and I will push you, and I may even break you, but I will never harm you. As long as you are honest with me, as long as you give yourself completely to me, as long as you trust me, you will always be safe with me.”

Zoe nodded. “I trust you, Clare.”

A moment passed before Clare leaned in and kissed Zoe, deeply and passionately, a celebration of the bond that had just been formed. Zoe moaned softly into Clare’s mouth, losing herself in the sensations swimming through her body, tasting Clare’s tongue exploring her, teasing her. Clare grabbed a fistful of Zoe’s hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. She leaned in close, slowly licking her way up Zoe’s jugular, up to her ear.

Softly, she whispered, “Shall we get started?”

**********

part 2

Clare’s bedroom was beautiful, like the rest of the house, decorated in soft, minimalistic earth tones. As Zoe followed her into the room, she was taken by just how… normal it all seemed. She kept waiting for Clare to push aside a bookcase, revealing a secret stairway leading down to a dimly lit dungeon. Perhaps she was naïve, she decided, but when she thought of “kinky,” she definitely didn’t imagine places like this, or people like Clare.

“Here, your arms must be sore,” Clare said, as she quickly untied the belt pinning Zoe’s arms behind her back. They tingled softly as she slowly moved them back in front of her, the blood gradually returning to normal circulation. Clare moved to face Zoe, pulling her ass in close with the belt, gazing deep into her eyes. Zoe shuddered as their skin touched, their breasts pressing in close together, Clare’s hot breath against the side of her face. Somewhat awkwardly, she reached around Clare, gently placing her hands on her back, unsure of herself.

“It’s all right,” Clare said, immediately picking up on Zoe’s uncertainty. “You’re allowed to touch me until I tell you otherwise. Go ahead. Take my robe off.”

Zoe bit her lip, knowing she was definitively entering new territory here. She had always thought of herself as completely straight, but realized that she really hadn’t ever fully considered other women. It had never even been an option for her. As she pulled the robe over Clare’s shoulders, down her back, and on to the floor, she allowed herself to take in the sight of Clare’s body in the dim room. Her skin was soft and smooth, her breasts smaller than her own, shaped almost like wine glasses, with small, firmly defined nipples. Moving on down, Clare’s smooth, fit abdomen and gentle curves almost seemed to guide Zoe’s gaze further south, transfixing her at the small patch of finely groomed, soft brown hair between her legs. Zoe had never allowed herself to look at a woman like this, as an object of intense desire. Zoe realized that she was almost panting, and that her pussy was as wet as it had ever been. She wanted Clare, in every imaginable way, and in all the ways she knew she couldn’t yet imagine.

Clare smiled affectionately at the girl, recognizing the realizations she was going through. “You like looking at me, don’t you?” Clare asked. Zoe returned her eyes to Clare’s gaze, nodding. “Well,” Clare began, grabbing the silk robe’s belt and tying it tightly around Zoe’s head, blindfolding her, “there will be plenty of time for looking later.”

She took Zoe’s hands, and guided her to the bed, a large, elegantly carved four poster frame. She sat Zoe down and stood before her, tenderly holding the girl’s face against her stomach. Her pussy is right there, Zoe thought. She wanted so badly to taste it, her reservations melting away faster than she ever could have expected.

“You’ve been such a good girl tonight, Zoe,” Clare cooed. “Now, I want you to lie back, spread your legs, and relax.” Zoe took a deep breath and did as she was told, eagerly awaiting whatever Clare had in store for her.

First, she felt Clare’s breath blowing over her clit, first fast and cool, then slow and warm, then fast again. She moaned gently, enjoying the sensation, but more out of anticipation over what she hoped was coming next.

Her hopes were well-founded, as she soon felt Clare’s tongue running slowly up over her pussy, gently gliding between her lips, stopping at her clitoris, to which she gave a few gentle flicks with the tip of her tongue. Zoe could feel her eyes rolling back behind the blindfold – she had been eaten out by plenty of men in her past, and it had usually felt good, but never like this. Was it just the build-up? The blindfold? Or something more…

Zoe lost her train of thought, as Clare’s tongue forked its way inside of her, hitting an area just below her g-spot that sent tremors of pleasure rippling through her body. She let out a loud, involuntary gasp, her body quivering. Clare smiled. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Zoe moaned out a loud, “Mmmm-hmmmm,” the best she could offer in her current state of ecstasy.

“Good,” Clare said, suddenly rising onto the bed and straddling Zoe’s face, “because that’s how I want you to make me feel.” In an instant, she squatted over Zoe, lowering herself down onto her mouth, smothering the girl’s face with her silky pussy. “Eat it, slut,” she commanded.

Without hesitating, Zoe eagerly began eating Clare out, hungry to taste her mistress, the salty taste quickly coating her tongue and face. She had abandoned all control of her sexual fate to this woman, and the thought excited her immensely. With her forearms pinned beneath Clare’s knees, her head squeezed between her thighs, and her face buried between her legs, Zoe felt perfectly trapped, given no choice but to lick pussy like a good little slut. She was a slut, she realized, a slut for this woman to use as she saw fit. It was freeing – a sexual hunger long dormant and unrealized within her had been released. It was Zoe’s offering to Clare – absolute control.

Clare wiggled over Zoe’s face, a bright smile of sheer bliss plastered across her face. “That’s it, girl,” she said, “make me feel good. Make me cum.”

Zoe began licking faster and faster, up and down Clare’s pussy at a near voracious-speed. Clare’s wetness continued trickling down, seeping into Zoe’s eyes under the blindfold and soaking her hair. She didn’t care – her only concern was pleasing her mistress, making her cum. God, she thought, this was so incredible…

WHAP! Seemingly from out of nowhere, Zoe felt a sharp sting land across her crotch. She howled with pain and surprise, immediately closing her legs protectively. Then, she felt her nipple being pinched – hard – right below the piercing, pulled and stretched away from her body. She moaned with pain, shaking beneath Clare.

“Your nipples or your cunt,” Zoe heard Clare say, “Until you make me cum, you’re going to feel pain. Do you understand me, slut?” Zoe didn’t answer, her face contorted and strained.

Clare twisted the nipple, pulling even harder, smiling wickedly at the sound of Zoe’s muffled scream of, “Yes, Clare, I understand!” coming from beneath her. “If this hurts,” Clare started, “open your legs.” Reluctantly, Zoe spread her legs, exposing her pussy to Clare’s whims. Clare smiled, playfully twirling the flogger in her hand as she released Zoe’s nipple. “That’s a good girl.”

WHAP! Zoe screamed again as the flogger connected, leaving her clit throbbing. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to make me cum, slut,” Clare teased, “otherwise, I’ll be here torturing you all night.”

WHAP! Zoe contained her scream this time, letting out a loud whimper instead, obediently continuing to kiss and lick Clare’s tight pussy, now more desperate than ever to make her cum. Clare tilted her head back and began to moan, beginning to rock up and down, almost bouncing, riding Zoe’s face, pure pleasure pulsing through her body.

WHAP! Zoe yelped, an animalistic grunt, the combination of intense pain, sexual objectification, and physical helplessness reducing her to an almost inhuman state. Her clit felt like it was on fire now, and with some hesitation, Zoe closed her legs, knowing that it would only mean hell for her nipples.

Sure enough, within seconds, she felt intense pain shooting from her nipples, as Clare had begun cruelly twisting, pinching, and pulling them, until finally Zoe couldn’t stand it, and was forced to open her legs again. Clare grinned as she released Zoe’s nipples and then brought the flogger down – WHAP! – her hardest hit yet. She loved the vibrating sensation of Zoe’s pained scream directly into her pussy, and gave out a loud, sustained moan.

Clare was close. She began moaning in quick, repetitive bursts, punctuating each one with a quick slap of the flogger to Zoe’s pussy. Zoe felt the tears flowing as she darted her tongue over Clare’s clit, up and down, left and right – anything to make her cum, to make the pain stop. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Clare let out another long, loud moan, her pussy swelling with orgasmic bliss, her thighs clenching the sides of Zoe’s head. Zoe felt incredible relief – she had successfully made her mistress cum for the first time. She had endured the pain. She was Clare’s good little slut.

“Very good, girl,” Clare cooed, slightly out of breath. “I’m glad to see that you’re a natural when it comes to eating pussy, as you’ll be eating mine often.”

“Yes, Clare,” Zoe managed, exhausted.

“But you’re not done yet,” Clare continued, swinging her legs forward over Zoe’s shoulders and crab-squatting on top of her face. “My ass needs attention, too.”

Zoe wrinkled her nose – Clare’s ass? She had never been at all turned on by assplay, let alone rimjobs. She started to protest, saying, “Clare, I…I don’t…”

But she was quickly interrupted as Clare laughingly lowered her asshole directly onto Zoe’s open mouth. Zoe squealed in horror, the thought of her mouth on another person’s ass completely revolting to her.

“Quit struggling,” Clare commanded. “Lick it.”

Gingerly, Zoe stuck out her tongue, holding it against Clare’s tight, smooth asshole. She wanted to please her mistress more than anything, but this was something that she just couldn’t get her head around. Clare ground herself down harder against Zoe’s face. “I guess someone needs some extra motivation, doesn’t she?”

Zoe whimpered, and immediately began licking with firm, broad licks, not wanting anything to do with Clare’s idea of extra motivation. Clare smiled, happy to know that she commanded fear from her sub, but aware that she couldn’t afford to dole out an empty threat. Fortunately for her, the flogger still sat nearby, and Zoe’s breasts made for especially tempting targets…

WHAP! Zoe squealed as the flogger connected with her left breast. She started eagerly eating out Clare’s ass, hungry for mercy.

“You know, they almost look like bullseyes,” Clare teased, before flogging both of Zoe’s tits in quickfire succession. “Now come on – I want to feel your tongue inside my ass.”

WHAP! WHAP! Two more hits, and Zoe desperately began working her tongue up inside Clare’s anal cavity. “See?” Clare said, “Isn’t it amazing what a little motivation can do?”

WHAP! “I said, isn’t it amazing what a little motivation can do?”

“Yes, Clare, yes!” Zoe practically screamed, although the words understandably came out somewhat muffled.

“Look at you,” Clare began, “your tongue up another woman’s ass. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yeth, Care,” was the closet she could muster with her tongue lodged up Clare’s ass.

“Say it.”

Zoe pulled her mouth away from Clare’s ass just long enough to whimper, “I’m a dirty little slut.”

“Say it again,” Clare demanded. “Louder.”

“I’m a dirty little slut,” she said, louder this time.

WHAP! “Again.”

“I’m a dirty little slut!”

WHAP! “Again!”

“I’m a dirty little slut!”

WHAP! “AGAIN!”

“I’M A DIRTY LITTLE SLUT!” Zoe all but shrieked it this time, complete music to Clare’s ears. Quietly, Zoe started to sob, her mind overloaded with sensations and emotions.

“Good girl, good girl,” Clare said sweetly. “It’s all right. Shh.” Zoe quieted, waiting anxiously for Clare’s next move.

“You know what happens to dirty little sluts, don’t you?” Clare asked.

Zoe could only whimper in response. Clare grinned a wicked grin

“They get fucked.”

**********

Zoe had lost all sense of time and space. Clare had turned a small crank at the foot of her bed, lowering a set of chains hanging from the ceiling, and harnessed Zoe in face down, still blindfolded and now gagged as well, her arms and legs forcibly spread. Then, she had left, leaving Zoe hanging. Was it really just a few hours ago that I was ringing this woman’s doorbell, Zoe wondered to herself. She thought back to the morning, when she had first met Clare – it seemed like an eternity ago, and she felt like she had become a different person since then.

She began struggling with her bonds, testing the cuffs around her wrists, wriggling her body, but it was beyond evident that escape was not an option. She hung her head, defeated, no option but to wait for Clare, and endure whatever it was that was coming next. Seeing little other options, Zoe began wailing with helplessness through the large ball gag secured into her mouth, realizing that she could still taste the strong flavors of Clare’s pussy and ass.

“Be quiet,” Clare said quietly. Zoe’s head perked up, trying to discern where Clare was. How long had she been there? She had no answer for either, as her situation had left her totally disoriented.

Then, she felt something hard and cool graze against her cheek. She quickly turned her head away in surprise, wondering what the hell it was, only to feel it again grazing along her side, causing her to whine with ticklish frenzy.

She could hear Clare laughing softly, a sinister sound in the darkness. Zoe quickly realized what it was Clare was teasing her with – a dildo. She was about to get fucked she realized, taking a deep breath and bracing herself. But how big was it? She couldn’t tell from Clare’s teasing touches – what if it was enormous? And, God - what if Clare was planning on fucking her in the ass? She had only received anal sex once, and that had been years ago. And she had hated it. What could she do now, though? If Clare wanted to fuck Zoe in the ass, Clare was going to fuck Zoe in the ass, and there was nothing Zoe could do to stop her or change her fate. She began to whine into the ballgag again – the anticipation, the fear of not knowing what Clare would do, the complete helplessness, it was all so torturous.

“Shhhh,” Clare said, definitely coming from behind Zoe now. She felt the dildo brush against her thigh now, and she couldn’t tell for sure, but it felt huge. She shuddered with fear at the thought of taking a merciless reaming. She focused on Clare’s words from before, I will never harm you. I trust you Clare, she thought to herself. Please, please let me trust you…

“So where do you think I should put this strap-on,” Zoe heard Clare say playfully. The tip of the dildo slowly began teasing Zoe’s pussy, grazing the outside of her entrance. “Should I put it here, do you think?” Zoe moaned in response, only to feel the tip of the dildo moving up, towards her asshole. Before Clare could even ask, Zoe gave several frantic and muffled attempts at saying, “Please, no.”

“So you don’t want me to put it here?” Clare asked, starting to press the dildo more firmly against Zoe’s defenseless asshole, threatening to penetrate her. Zoe whimpered loudly, terrified.

“You know, Zoe,” Clare began, “let me give you a little lesson about sadistic bitches like myself. We pounce on fear, we exploit weakness. You give us a button to push…”

Zoe squealed as she felt her ass being penetrated.

“…and we’re going to push it.” Clare waited for a moment, letting Zoe’s ass expand and get used to the sensation, before finally confessing the truth.

“Relax, Zoe. It’s just my thumb. One finger. Boo-fucking-hoo. Not the big, scary dildo.”

Zoe’s whimpers began to die down, as she realized that Clare was telling the truth – it wasn’t the dildo in her ass, but just a finger. And in reality, it didn’t hurt like she feared that it would… she just felt… full. And oddly, it actually felt kind of… good to her…

Clare quickly broke Zoe’s train of thought, announcing, “This is the big scary dildo,” as she suddenly thrust her strap-on deep into Zoe’s cunt without warning. Zoe gave a loud, low grunt of surprise, lowering her head, gritting her teeth, and bearing it. She was surprised to feel how wet she was, and how easily the dildo had penetrated her – she realized that she wanted it, and wanted it badly. She growled into the ballgag as Clare slowly began working the dildo in and out, fucking her suspended plaything, working into a rhythm, her thumb still buried up Zoe’s tight little ass.

“Ooh,” Clare began, delighted, “this pussy likes to growl,” adding a sharp slap to Zoe’s ass.

The fucking began to intensify, Clare picking up speed and momentum with her thrusts, simultaneously beginning to work her thumb in and out of Zoe’s ass, the girl’s muffled moans of ecstasy fueling Clare’s raw sexual energy. Soon, she slowed her rhythm down, opting instead for quick, intensely deep thrusts, separated by brief pauses, each one eliciting deep grunts of pleasure from her sexy little fuck toy. Clare reached forward, grabbing Zoe’s hair and yanking her head upright, her thrusting beginning to quicken again.

“Such a good little fuck slut,” Clare murmured as she quickly yanked her thumb out of Zoe’s ass, then quickly slid it back in with complete ease. “Such a hungry little ass, too…”

Zoe wailed, the sensory overload bringing her ever closer to orgasm. Clare unclasped the ballgag, letting it fall loosely around Zoe’s neck, smiling at the stream of drool oozing uncontrollably from the corner of Zoe’s numbed mouth.

“Don’t you dare cum without begging for it,” Clare growled, thrusting faster and harder than ever. Zoe, her brain beginning to feel like a pan of scrambled eggs, struggled to form the words:

“Please…Clare….please… I want… let me cum…”

“No,” came the cold answer, “not yet.”

Clare removed her thumb and hunched herself over Zoe as she continued fucking her, reaching down and around to play with the girl’s sensitive nipples, stroking and squeezing them, massaging her sizable breasts. It was almost too much for Zoe to bear, especially the thought of what Clare might do to her if she came without her permission.

“Please, Clare,” Zoe begged, “Please! I’m so… I’m so close… so close… please.”

“Not yet,” Clare coolly said, sliding one hand down Zoe’s abdomen to begin fingering her clit. Zoe wailed at the overload of sensations – her pussy getting jackhammered by Clare’s strap-on, her nipples being teased and tormented, her super-sensitive clit being worked over.

“Oh… fuck!” were the only words Zoe could intelligibly form as she teetered on the edge of orgasm, desperately trying to contain the agonizing flood of pleasure that was due to wash through her at any moment.

“PLEASE CLARE,” she yelled, “PLEASE MAY I CUM?”

Clare gave a few final thrusts before nodding and saying, “All right, slut, cum for me.”

In an instant, as Zoe was finally free to stop trying to hold it in, her pussy began throbbing and clenching involuntarily, the largest orgasm of life beginning to pulse through her body. She jerked in Clare’s arms, her toes curling, her hands shaking, the pleasure overwhelming her, reducing her mind to low hum. Her face twisted and contorted, until finally, she slowly went limp, panting for breath, dripping with cold sweat.

Clare smiled as she slowly pulled out, Zoe’s pussy flooded with orgasmic wetness. She casually walked around to face Zoe, holding her head in her hands.

“Now clean it,” she commanded, pushing the dildo deep into Zoe’s mouth, past her gag reflex. Zoe, spent as she was, did as she was told, eagerly sucking the dildo, swirling her tongue along the smooth surface, tasting her pussy’s own savory flavor. Clare grinned at the sight.

“Very impressive,” she said, “no gagging. You’re a natural cocksucker, too.”

She pulled out, leaving Zoe gasping for a quick breath before saying, “Thank you… thank you, Clare.”

“You’re very welcome,” she responded, adding, “Tell me, do you like being Mommy’s little fuck slut?”

The phrasing struck Zoe – she had never known her mother. Was that why she was so drawn to this older woman, so willing to submit fully to her kinkiest desires?

“…Yes,” Zoe said, “Yes Clare. I like being Mommy’s little fuck slut.”

Clare smiled and caressed Zoe’s face. She had never wanted children, and now, in her early forties, it was probably too late anyway. But this girl… this submissive young sex kitten with the purple Mohawk… In her own, twisted way, she knew she was quite possibly looking at what might be the closest thing to a daughter she would ever have.

Clare stepped out of the strap-on, then turned the crank, gradually lowering Zoe to the ground. She slowly guided Zoe to her feet, removing her blindfold and suspension cuffs and helping her to the bed as she regained her orientation.

“Now you’ve been a very good girl tonight, Zoe,” Clare began. “I know that I’ve demanded a lot of you, and you’ve risen to every challenge. You’ve made me very happy.”

Zoe, still catching her breath, offered a smile. “Thank you, Clare,” she said.

“I will be detailing your usual sleeping arrangements later,” Clare said. “But for tonight, I want you in bed with me.”

Zoe’s smile widened – this was exactly what she had been hoping for. The intense play had put her into a delicate headspace, and she knew that she needed her mistress by her side.

“Thank you, Clare,” she said, as the two climbed under the covers.

“However,” Clare began, causing Zoe’s smile to falter, “you did try and steal from me today, and you are still an addict, so I can’t trust you entirely just yet.”

Clare sat up and opened her nightstand, searching for something. Finally, she turned back to Zoe, a thick leather collar in hand.

“Sit up.”

Zoe obeyed, lifting her chin as Clare fastened the collar tightly around her neck. She reached down, removing the key that hung around her neck, locking the collar into place. Zoe let out a small gasp – the constraining feel of the leather around her neck…. It was perfect.

“How is that, Zoe?” Clare asked.

“It’s…” Zoe didn’t know how to put into words what she was feeling. Instead, she leaned in, kissing Clare, a soft, slow, tender kiss. Finally, she pulled back, the two of them locking eyes.

“I understand,” Clare finally said.

Clare went on to chain Zoe’s collar to a small ring in the wall just above the bed’s headboard. “There,” she said. “Now, I don’t have to worry about you going anywhere.”

“No,” Zoe replied, whispering into her ear, “you don’t.”

Clare beamed, thankful the darkness of the room hid the fact that she was blushing. She wrapped her arms around Zoe, spooning her from behind, holding her close.

“Now rest,” she whispered, “you have no idea what you’re in store for tomorrow.”

Zoe quivered at the words, and at the feel of Clare’s breath on the back of her neck. Soon, she was asleep, a content smile on her face, her mind racing with intoxicating dreams of what could possibly be yet to come...

**********

Almost an hour later, Clare lingered awake, watching her girl rest.  Finally, when she was sure that Zoe was sound asleep, she quietly rose from the bed, pulled on her bathrobe, and exited the bedroom, stopping briefly in the doorway to turn and make sure that Zoe hadn’t stirred.

She crept out into the darkness of the living room, taking a seat at her desk and opening her laptop, the harsh white light illuminating her pained face. Opening her email, she softly began typing a new message:

You were right about the girl - have successfully begun breaking her in. Will bring her to you tomorrow to begin her training immediately.

-c

She paused, hesitating briefly, then clicked, “Send.” After a few moments, she quietly and calmly closed the laptop, and crept back to bed, where Zoe remained fast asleep, blissfully unaware of what was in store for her in the coming day…

**********

part 3

“Wake up, Zoe…”

Zoe opened her eyes, squinting at the bright morning light pouring in through the windows. For a few moments, she lay there confused – where was she? This wasn’t her dirty mattress in the basement of the abandoned warehouse…

Then, in a flash, the events of the last evening came flooding back to her – Clare, the beautiful woman who had taken her in, seduced her, dominated her, fucked her… Fuck, she thought to herself… this really happened…

She looked across the room, where Clare stood, wearing only her bathrobe, smiling at her. Zoe started to sit up in bed, but quickly remembered her collar – she was chained to the wall.

“Here,” Clare said, moving to the side of the bed and removing a key that hung around her neck, between her two round, delicate-looking breasts. Using it, she unlocked the chain connecting Zoe’s collar to the wall, freeing her to sit up.

“We’re meeting my friend at his studio in a few hours,” Clare told her. “I thought you might like some breakfast first.”

Zoe smiled, reaching out and taking Clare’s hand.

“I never got to thank you,” she said, looking up at Clare with grateful eyes. “Last night was one of the most incredible nights of my life.”

Clare smiled, avoiding Zoe’s gaze, embarrassed to find herself blushing. “I enjoyed it as well,” she said softly. Zoe almost detected something sad in Clare’s voice, but she couldn’t quite place it for sure.

“Is everything all right?” Zoe asked. Clare quickly nodded yes, letting out a soft, pleased gasp as Zoe slowly and playfully began running her tongue across her fingers.

“Such a good little girl,” Clare said. “So insatiable.”

Zoe grinned before taking two of Clare’s fingers into her mouth, sucking them gently. Clare curled them up against the roof of Zoe’s mouth, pulling her up to her feet, amazed at how perfectly the girl was taking to her new role as a submissive pet. Clare reached around, squeezing Zoe’s ass and pulling her in close, sliding her fingers in and out of her mouth, gazing deep into her eyes.

“Spread your legs, girl,” she whispered.

Zoe complied, widening her stance, allowing Clare to lower her wet fingers down between her legs, where they quickly began tracing their way up and down her slit. Zoe closed her eyes, biting her lips and purring at Clare’s touch.

Then, with a slowness that was maddening to Zoe, Clare began working her fingers up inside of her, fingering her increasingly wet pussy. She curled her fingers, applying pressure to the g-spot, eliciting a sharp, sudden moan from Zoe, who wrapped her arms around Clare’s neck and held her close.

“So insatiable,” Clare repeated, whispering into Zoe’s ear and then running her tongue over it. Zoe shuddered at the sensation, murmuring back,

“Insatiable for you, Clare.”

Clare let out a long sigh, which Zoe interpreted as a happy moan. But Zoe couldn’t see the conflicted look on Clare’s face, there for only a few moments before she returned her attention to fingering her pet.

“Lie down,” Clare commanded, helping guide Zoe back onto the bed, her legs spread. Clare climbed next to her, fingering her faster now, deeper. She leaned over Zoe’s breasts, taking a nipple between her lips, sucking gently and tracking her tongue across the tip. As Zoe, ever-responsive, began gasping with delight, Clare bit down, just below the piercing, giving the nipple a sharp, sudden tug. Zoe shrieked, the sharp pain swirling with the intense pleasure of Clare’s fingers probing deeper inside of her, an addictive overload of sensations.

“I want you to cum for me, Zoe,” Clare said calmly, her fingers playing Zoe’s pussy like a finely tuned instrument. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, Clare, yes,” Zoe moaned out, “Just please don’t stop.”

Clare had no intention of stopping, and began aiming directly for Zoe’s g-spot, hitting it with each and every thrust of her wrist, all while simultaneously thumbing Zoe’s swollen, throbbing clit. Zoe’s moans grew louder and louder, until finally, she began to orgasm. Clare hit her g-spot one final time, folding her fingers hard against the sensitive inner front wall of Zoe’s cunt, then expertly slid them out in one quick motion.

As she did, Zoe squirted a thick, soaking spray that flew nearly two feet, splashing onto the floor beside Clare’s bed.

Clare was delighted. “I thought you might be a squirter!” She exclaimed, an eager smile across her face. Zoe gasped, looking down at herself, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“I… I’ve never done that before,” she explained. Clare could only smile at her adorable little plaything, a girl full of surprises.

**********

Rinsing herself off in the shower, Zoe reflected back on the events of the past 24 hours, the journey she had embarked upon with this woman. It seemed crazy that just yesterday she was sleeping alone in a dark, filthy warehouse basement, completely independent of anyone or anything. She thought about how much she had enjoyed eating Clare’s pussy the night before, and, much to her surprise, her ass as well. Could it really be that just 24 hours ago, she honestly believed that she had no desire to taste another woman, to touch her, to submit to her? Her latent sexual cravings had been awakened, and she was grateful – she felt as if Clare had set something within her free. What was more, in just a few, short hours, she would be laying down tracks in a recording studio – a huge step towards achieving her dreams as a musician. And none of this would have been possible if she and Clare hadn’t crossed paths on that street corner in Santa Monica.

Zoe toweled herself off and looked at herself in the mirror, her naked body glistening with moisture, her erect nipples, her thin, fine patch of soft pubic hair... but her gaze kept returning to the collar. Something about it seemed to put her fully in touch with her own submissive nature – a constant, ever-present reminder of her role. She liked how tight it fit around her neck, as if any moment, it could constrict and bring her to her knees.

A thought struck Zoe, though – what had happened to her clothing? Clare had taken it to be washed the previous day, and that was the last she had seen of it. She opened the door, poking her head out and calling for Clare, who soon came.

“May I ask where my clothes are?”

Clare just smiled blankly for a few moments, before finally answering, “In my house, your collar is the only clothing you’re permitted to wear. So no, you may not ask where your clothes are. When the time comes for you to leave, I’ll have you dressed.”

Zoe fought the urge to object, reminding herself that Clare was in charge. As quick a learner as she was when it came to submission, there were still bound to be some growing pains, she reasoned. This was, after all, a completely new world to her.

“Now,” Clare continued, “Come join me in the kitchen for breakfast.”

“Yes, Clare.”

Zoe followed her into the kitchen, where a single place setting was laid out at a high table in the corner. Clare took her seat, then looked over to Zoe.

“On the floor. Now.”

Zoe had been looking forward to sharing a meal with Clare, so this command came as something of a disappointment, or at least a surprise. Was this really what this life was going to entail? Complete and constant degradation and humiliation?

“I said get on the floor, slut,” Clare barked, her tone sharpening. Zoe quickly lowered herself onto her hands and knees, looking up at Clare for further guidance.

“Over here,” Clare snapped, “At my feet.” She watched as Zoe crawled over to her place under the table, shaking her head as she arrived, “You have so much to learn, don’t you, slut?”

“…Yes, Clare,” Zoe said meekly, “I suppose I do…”

Clare began picking at the food on her plate – ham, eggs, and toast, with a tall glass of orange juice. “You will eat whatever leftovers I don’t want to eat, or whatever I am generous enough to offer you to eat,” Clare explained between bites. “You will eat off of the floor I walk on, unless you earn the privilege of eating your food from a dish. Do you understand?”

Under the table, Zoe was having a hard time grasping this. She had quickly come to understand submission as it pertained to sex, but she simply hadn’t realized that it would extend to everyday life as well, at least not to this extent.

“I understand what you want, Clare,” Zoe finally answered, “But I am not sure if I understand why you want it.”

“Why is irrelevant,” Clare snapped. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. I tell you what I want from you, and you give it to me. End of story. Understood?”

Zoe pouted. She trusted Clare, and was willing to follow her lead, but she hated not understanding her. Zoe was curious by nature, and resisted being forced to accept something which she didn’t fully comprehend. But she had agreed to follow Clare’s rules, so all she could say was:

“Yes, Clare, I understand.”

“Good girl,” Clare said, tossing a scrap of ham to the floor. Zoe stared at it for a moment before gingerly picking it up with her mouth and eating it. Clare watched, happy to see her pet remembering not to use her hands – she had worried that she might have needed to tie them up again as a reminder.

“Very good girl,” Clare said, as she casually poured some of her orange juice onto the floor beside Zoe, letting it splatter into a messy orange puddle. She looked down at Zoe, sensing her hesitation, and gave her ass a firm kick.

“Go on – lick it up, before it gets sticky.”

Zoe whimpered, feeling dehumanized, and lowered her face into the mess, lapping it up, one slow lick at a time.  When she finished, she moved next to Clare, looking up at her for approval.

Clare reached down and slapped her across the face, hard. “When I feed my pet, I expect it to thank me.” Zoe rubbed at her cheek, looking up at Clare with sad eyes. Was this the same woman who tenderly held her as she slept the night before?

“I’m sorry, Clare,” she managed to say, “Thank you for the ham and the orange juice.”

Clare could read Zoe’s displeasure. “Is there something you want to say to me, slut?” She asked.

Keep your mouth shut, Zoe told herself, don’t say anything…

“I’m sorry, Clare,” she started, unable to help herself, “I just think I was enjoying this a lot more last night, and this morning… in the bedroom…”

Clare dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, then set it down. “I see,” she finally said, using a deadly calm voice that Zoe found terrifying. “So it’s all about you, then?”

“No…” Zoe tried to explain.

“…It’s all about orgasms and getting spanked and getting fucked?”

“No, no! That’s not…”

“Be quiet.”

Zoe grew silent, lowering her eyes to the floor, knowing that she had made a big mistake.

“Look at me.”

Zoe slowly looked up, fear painted across her face.

“On the one hand,” Clare began, “I recognize that you are very new to all of this, and that it is my job to train you, to modify your behavior. Perhaps I’ve been too lax.” She stood from her seat, walking out of the room, leaving Zoe alone and anxious for a few moments.

“But on the other hand,” she said, returning to the kitchen, brandishing a thick leather belt in her hands, walking at a slow, dangerously calm pace towards Zoe, “the rules are very, very simple. I do what I want, and you do what I say. No questions. Only trust.”

Zoe cowered on under the table, watching with terror as Clare approached. Finally, Clare was directly in front of her. “Stop cowering under that table,” she said, emotionless.

Slowly, reluctantly, Zoe crept out, kneeling in front of Clare, fearing the wrath of her mistress. Clare crouched down, eye to eye with her pet.

“Do you still trust me, Zoe?” she asked.

Zoe took a breath before answering, “Yes, Clare.”

“Good. Open your mouth.”

Zoe obeyed, and Clare placed the belt into her mouth.

“Now go into the living room and await your punishment while I finish my breakfast.”

Zoe whined softly through the belt in her mouth as she began crawling away, hoping that a sore ass was all she had to fear.

It wasn’t.

**********

Zoe knelt on all fours in the center of the living room, the belt still hanging from the sides of her mouth. She shivered, even though it wasn’t cold, her body experiencing a visceral reaction to the anxiety of waiting for Clare’s punishment.

Clare had finished her breakfast, but was still in the kitchen, talking on her cell phone. Zoe strained to listen, but couldn’t make out the conversation, although at one point she could have sworn she heard Clare mention her name. Finally, after what seemed to Zoe like hours of waiting, Clare entered, gazing down at her frightened, obedient pet.

“I just spoke with my friend at the recording studio,” she said, “and let him know that you and I would be running a little late to your session. Thankfully for you, he’s feeling a great deal more patient than I am today.”

Zoe silently watched as Clare approached, then took the belt from her mouth.

“Face on the floor, ass in the air, knees spread apart,” she commanded. “Now.”

Zoe complied, her ass and pussy exposed and vulnerable to Clare’s sadistic desires. She bit her lip as Clare moved out of view behind her, knowing that she was in for a world of pain.

“I have taken you in,” Clare began, her voice low and threatening, “I’ve offered you your dreams. I’ve opened your mind and your body to feelings you didn’t even know existed less than twenty-four hours ago. And now, when I try and feed you, I receive no gratitude. Instead, you question me.”

Zoe felt the tip of the belt slowly grazing across her ass cheeks, as Clare playfully dangled it behind her.

“What do you think I should do with you?” Clare asked.

Zoe cringed, not knowing what to say, and definitely not wanting to upset her mistress further. “I… I don’t know,” she finally answered, her voice trembling.

WHACK! Clare brought the belt down hard across Zoe’s ass, baring her teeth at the sound of Zoe’s cry of pain.

“Exactly. You,” WHACK! “Don’t.” WHACK! “Know.” WHACK!

Tears rolled down Zoe’s face, as the excruciating pain surged through her body.

“You don’t know what’s best for you,” Clare snapped, “I do.” WHACK! “That’s why you put your complete trust in me.” WHACK! “That’s why you submit to me.” WHACK! “That’s how this fucking works.”

“I’m sorry, Clare!” Zoe blurted out through a sob, only to receive another razor sharp WHACK! in response, one so hard she felt her knees begin to buckle beneath her.

“Sorry is a start,” Clare said, “but what I need is for you to be a good girl. It’s all I ask of you. And being a good girl means not.” WHACK! “Questioning.” WHACK! “My.” WHACK! “Methods.” WHACK!

Zoe was bawling now from the searing pain. She could already feel the welts rising across her delicate ass, and could only wonder hopelessly if Clare had broken her skin.

Clare looked down at her sobbing girl, beaten and battered beneath her, then tossed the belt onto the floor beside her head. “Now, I want to believe that you’ve learned your lesson,” she began, starting to undo her pants as she spoke. “I want to believe that next time, you’ll actually appreciate whatever scraps of food I so generously offer to share with you.” She pushed her pants and thong underwear down her legs and over her heels, stepping out of them.

“But I have to be absolutely certain that you understand how lucky you are,” she said, “because apparently, adjusting to your new life is proving more difficult for you than I had expected.”

“Turn over,” Clare said, “onto your back.”

Zoe obeyed, moving slowly, still reeling from the ache of Clare’s beating. She cringed as she felt her ass against the cold, hard tile, her skin still burning with pain. She looked at Clare standing above her, looking down at her, no idea of what to expect. She could only hope it wouldn’t be as savage as the belt had been.

Clare stepped over her girl, then lowered herself down, straddling her face, her bare pussy just inches above Zoe’s mouth. “From now on,” Clare said, “I want you to know what a luxury it is to share meals with me. So right now, you’re going to experience the alternative.”

“Open your mouth,” she commanded. Zoe slowly obeyed, her eyes widening with the horrified realization of what was coming. Clare lowered herself down further, resting her pussy directly on top of Zoe’s opened mouth.

A silent moment passed before she released a steady stream of hot, fresh piss directly down Zoe’s throat.

Zoe immediately gagged, not just from the salty, acrid taste, but from the very concept of what was happening. “Keep your mouth open, slut, and swallow what I give you,” Clare ordered, “or you’ll get the belt again.

Eyes still wide, Zoe felt the piss filling her mouth, her tongue submerged in the taste. Desperately, she tried to swallow, struggling to breathe as the piss overflowed and ran up her nose, in her hair, and into her eyes. Finally, she managed to get a full mouthful down, the shimmering, golden liquid continuing to splash across her lips and face. She opened her mouth back up, gasping for air and choking as her mouth continued to fill.

Finally, the stream came to a stop, and Zoe, her face covered in piss and tears, her soaked head resting in a puddle, managed to gulp down the last of it. She worried she might vomit, and began concentrating on keeping Clare’s piss down.

“Don’t just lay there,” Clare snapped, “Clean your mistress.”

Zoe whimpered weakly and began licking Clare’s wet pussy clean, making sure to work her tongue along the folds of her labia, and then across her moistened thighs.

“That’s it,” Clare said, “Nice and thorough. Get every last drop down.”

When Zoe had finished, Clare stood up, collecting her pants from the floor. “Always remember that there’s plenty more where that came from for unappreciative little sluts. Tell me that you understand.” Zoe, still out of breath, nodded, then answered, “Yes, Clare.”

Clare smiled, her brutal hardness gone. “Good girl. Now I’m going to go clean up and get back into my clothes. When I return, that puddle you’re lying in had better be gone. I trust you know how to make that happen.”

Zoe could only answer with another soft whimper as Clare left for the bathroom. Once she was gone, Zoe laid still for a moment, alone and completely degraded, her eyes closed, the shock of what had just happened still sinking in. Finally, she gathered her strength and turned over, rising back to her hands and knees. She stared down at the puddle for a moment, her face contorted in disgust, and then reluctantly lowered her tongue to the floor, quietly lapping up Clare’s mess.

**********

Forty minutes later, Zoe sat in the backseat of Clare’s SUV as Clare drove the two of them down the PCH. She fidgeted with her clothing, surprised to realize how quickly she had grown accustomed to the unceasing nudity that Clare demanded of her at home. She still had her collar though, and despite the brutal punishment Clare had dealt out earlier, she still enjoyed wearing it, enjoyed the constant reminder of what it symbolized.

She stared out the window, watching the ocean pass by. It was a bright, sunny day, and Zoe felt as if she was seeing the world through new eyes, the eyes of someone whose mind has been opened to its own full potential. She shifted in her seat, her ass still incredibly sore, and realized that she enjoyed the lingering pain, much as she enjoyed the collar. It reminded her of the training Clare had beaten into her, and how coming out of it, she had felt stronger than before. Even the taste of Clare’s piss, still lingering in the back of Zoe’s mouth, was strangely comforting, proof of sorts that Zoe had endured. After licking the floor clean, Zoe had asked Clare if she could have some water to help rinse the taste from her mouth, and Clare had quickly rejected that request. At the time, it had seemed cruel and crushing, but now, Zoe felt thankful for Clare’s firmness. She was beginning to understand her mistress, she realized, a thought which justified and strengthened her trust in the woman. She couldn’t help but smile.

Clare watched Zoe in the rearview mirror as she drove, admiring the way the sunlight coming through her window seemed to collect on the shoulders of her leather jacket. The girl was special, no doubt, and Clare knew that she had very quickly developed very strong, very real feelings for her. She could only hope that Zoe was ready for what was coming…

The SUV left the highway, ascending a mountainous, oceanside hill just north of Santa Monica and pulling to a stop in front of a large, private mansion overlooking the Pacific. Zoe stepped out, her guitar slung over her shoulder, and gazed up at this home – quite possibly the most beautiful she had ever seen – with wide eyes. Clare led her to the gate, where she entered a code to enter, and then led Zoe to the front door. Before they could even knock, the door opened, revealing a stocky, buff-looking young Hispanic man with short, dark hair and a studded bolt through his bottom lip. He smiled at them warmly, Zoe taking notice of his unusually sharp, white teeth, and the oddly soft features of his face.

“Saw you two coming. You must be Zoe – dig the Mohawk, yo,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Rubin.”

Zoe looked to Clare, who gave her a soft nod, then took his hand.

“Clare tells me you’re incredible,” Rubin said. Zoe smiled, blushing softly.

“I don’t know about that, Rubin,” Zoe said turning her eyes to Clare, “but I’m glad she sees something in me.”

Rubin laughed. “All right. Well, you two should come inside. I’ll show you to the studio.”

The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside, finely decorated with classic artwork, beautiful vases, and touches of modern decadence, a far cry from the minimalist aesthetic at Clare’s townhouse.

“So you run a studio out of your home?” Zoe asked as Rubin led the two of them through a seemingly never-ending series of hallways and rooms.

Rubin answered with a smile, “A man’s home is his castle, yo, you hear me?”

“Well, it’s an incredible castle,” Zoe said, still flabbergasted by all the excess, just for this one man, who didn’t even look like he was much older than she was.

“Yeah, thanks,” Rubin said. “What can I say, you know? I’m a very lucky man. Business is good. OK, now here we are.”

He came to what looked like a blank wall, except for an odd door handle. Giving it a pull, the entire wall started sliding, one giant door, revealing a fully equipped sound studio.

“This is where the magic happens,” he said proudly, adding with a grin, “at least, the magic I engage in professionally, right?”

“Rubin is one of the biggest sound mixers in the music business, Zoe,” Clare said, adding, “All of the big names have been here at one point or another, laying down tracks.”

“And how do you two know each other?” Zoe asked.

Rubin and Clare shared a look, before Rubin finally answered, “Clare is a very special friend of mine. Now shall we?”

The three of them stepped inside, Rubin showing Zoe into a soundproof recording room, then leading Clare into an adjacent mixing booth. Zoe pulled her guitar out of its case and took a seat on a stool in the center of the room, trying not to be intimidated by the large microphone hanging in front of her face.

“That’s a beautiful instrument you’ve got there,” Rubin said.

“Thanks,” Zoe answered. “It belonged to my father.” She thought of him, something she had spent years trying not to do, not because she didn’t miss him, but because she didn’t want to imagine him ashamed of her. Now, knowing she had reached a potential milestone and turning point in her life, she imagined him looking down on her, proud and happy.

“That’s real nice. All right, so just go ahead and put those headphones on so you can hear yourself,” Rubin said into a microphone at his station. “Yeah, there you go. All right, so I want you just to relax, take your time, get comfortable, and start playing for us whenever you’re ready, got it?”

Zoe smiled at him through the glass window, working hard to contain her nervousness. “Great, got it,” she said, her heart beginning to race a little.

She strummed a few chords to make sure everything was in tune, then closed her eyes, took a breath – and began to sing. The song started out a capella, highlighting her soft, deceptively strong voice. After a few lines, she could feel her confidence growing, a faint smile creeping across her face as she sung, her hand tapping softly on the body of her guitar for rhythm.

In the booth, Rubin leaned forward, carefully watching Zoe’s performance, his brow furrowed with concentration.

“Isn’t she something?” Clare asked with hushed excitement.

“Don’t speak,” Rubin answered coldly, his gaze fixed straight ahead at Zoe.

Coming to the end of the song’s first section, Zoe held out a long, delicate note, then confidently began strumming along with the song, its cadence intensifying, the performance blooming like a flower. Rubin and Clare sat in silence, watching her, the green and red lights from the sound board glowing up at their faces in the dark room.

Zoe came to the end of the song, easing down into the pleasing ring of its final chord. She smiled to herself, knowing it was one of the best performances she had ever given, imagining all the people who were going to hear it after Rubin mixed and distributed it. Finally, she opened her eyes again.

“Man, Clare was right,” Rubin said, “that was absolutely beautiful.” Zoe blushed again, her heart still racing with excitement.

“Thank you,” she said, “for everything. You have no idea what a huge day this is for me.”

Rubin chuckled. “I don’t think you have any idea either,” he said, before switching off his microphone.

Rubin turned in his seat to face Clare. “Tell me about her progress,” he demanded.

“She’s learning well, sir” Clare started, “She’s needed a few corrections here and there, but overall, she’s embracing her role quite well. She even took my piss this morning.”

“She drank it?” Rubin asked, eyebrows raised. Clare nodded. “Well shit,” Rubin said with a wicked chuckle, “you weren’t lying, slut.”

“No, sir,” Clare said.

“What else?” Rubin asked.

In the recording room, Zoe sat patiently through the silence, watching Rubin and Clare talk. Finally, she asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Be quiet, slut,” Rubin quickly responded into his mic, his easy, genial tone completely gone. Zoe was speechless and confused, anxiously turning to Clare, who avoided her gaze, staring instead at the floor.

“Clare…”

“You don’t talk to Clare anymore,” Rubin snapped, “not when I’m around. Now take your clothes off so Daddy can see his new slut.”

Zoe just sat there, stunned, her mouth agape. What was going on? Had Clare betrayed her? The very thought was blood-chilling.

Clare, still staring at the floor, started, “Sir, may I just talk…”

Rubin interrupted her with a hard, fast slap to the face, silencing her.

Zoe had seen enough. She was scared, confused, and she wanted out. She threw her headphones off and bolted for the door – but Rubin had locked her in.

“You’re not going anywhere, slut,” his voice came over the loudspeaker, the sound sending chills down Zoe’s spine. Frightened and trapped, tears began to well in her eyes. She turned from the door, locking eyes with him through the glass.

“Now take off your clothes,” he commanded.

Zoe’s answer came with a defiant firmness to her voice that surprised even her. “No.”

“Believe me, slut, you do not want to anger me.  Now take your clothes off, apologize for resisting, and hope that I’m in a forgiving mood.”

Zoe clenched her jaw, gathering her inner strength. “I don’t belong to you,” she said simply, “so you can go fuck yourself.”

Rubin snorted out a laugh. “All right, slut, we’ll see how your tone sounds when I’m through punishing you.” He turned to Clare. “Take her to the Shock Room,” he ordered, adding. “And you don’t say a word to her, you understand me, slut?”

Clare nodded. “Yes sir,” she said, as she quickly rose and exited the booth.

Zoe turned from Rubin, still watching her through the window, to the door. Increasingly frantic, she grabbed the only thing she had – her guitar, lifting it over her shoulder by the neck, ready to smash it over Clare’s head if she had to. She assumed a fighter’s stance, staring intently at the doorknob, absolutely focused, ready to fight to escape.

She didn’t even hear the wall behind her slowly slide open, and she barely felt the needle stick into the side of her neck. Jarred by the sudden swirling in the room and sensing someone behind her, she turned halfway towards Clare, then dropped the guitar, a loud, pained clanging ringing out as it clattered to the floor. She took a few stumbling steps sideways, her eyes beginning to lull, her mind beginning to shut down. Her knees buckled, and she started to fall, catching herself on the stool, struggling to stay up.

The last thing she saw before falling to the floor was Clare’s face, emotionless and expressionless. And then, everything went black.

**********

part 4

“Clare… Clare…”

Zoe, delirious and barely conscious, began to stir. Clare knew she only had a few minutes before the drug wore off, so she worked quickly, finishing pulling Zoe’s jeans off, then standing her up, cuffing her wrists to a chain that hung low from a ceiling-mounted pulley.

“Please…” Zoe started, disoriented, “please Clare… may I cum?”

Clare bit her lip and focused, holding Zoe up while she bent down, cuffing the girl’s ankles to two metal rings in the floor, forcing her legs apart. She stood up, giving Zoe a few light smacks on the cheek. Zoe moaned, shaking her head, gradually starting to come to her senses. She opened her eyes, taking in the cold, dimly lit room, with dirty-looking greenish walls and a grimy-feeling cement floor beneath her bare feet.

“Where… what…” she murmured, before finding Clare, standing against the wall. Zoe gasped, her eyes going wide as the events leading up to her blackout came back to her.

“Clare,” she sobbed, “why are you… what’s happening?”

Clare stared deep into Zoe’s eyes, but said nothing, instead reaching for a metal crank against the wall and starting to turn it. Zoe had to shout to be heard over the loud creaking.

“Answer me! Why are you doing this?”

Still nothing. Clare continued turning the crank, and Zoe realized that her wrists were being pulled up, above her head. She looked down, realizing that she was naked, and that her feet were cuffed to the floor, her legs spread.

She was trapped.

“Please,” she screamed, her arms beginning to stretch above her head, “answer me! Please! Why would you do this to me?”

No answer. Just more turns of the crank.

“I trusted you!” She screamed, “I was your good girl! Why?”

Clare finished cranking, Zoe’s arms extended completely above her head. She moved to the door, opening it, then stopped. Slowly, she turned around, looking up at a camera watching them from the corner of the room.

Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, telling her, “You are still my good girl,” she said. “Everything is going to be OK.”

“Fuck you,” Zoe yelled, spitting at her.

“You need to trust me,” she said, undeterred. “Know that I… I care about you very much.”

Clare started to exit, but Zoe spat out:

“At least take this fucking collar off of me.”

Clare stood still for a moment as the words landed, her back to Zoe, then, without turning around, without a word, she left the room, the door slamming behind her. Zoe hung her head.

“God DAMN IT!” She yelled.

Zoe stood there, helpless, for what she guessed was fifteen minutes, although her mind, still woozy, had very little conception of time. By the time the door finally opened again, Zoe wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been hours. All she knew was that she was exposed and vulnerable.

Rubin entered, dragging a naked, ballgagged Clare behind him. Zoe could only put on her bravest face, glaring at the two of them.

“She must really like you,” he said. “She deliberately disobeyed me and spoke to you, knowing that I was watching and would have to punish her. That’s not like her.”

“I wouldn’t know what she’s like,” Zoe snapped.

Rubin smiled. “Maybe not. But still, I’d say you’ve had quite the effect on her. It’ll be so sweet punishing the two of you, and watching both of you sluts suffering together.” He reached up, pulling another chain down from another creaking ceiling pulley, and cuffed Clare’s hands, then bent down, cuffing her ankles to the same rings as Zoe, leaving the two facing each other. He moved to the wall, turning Clare’s crank, pulling her arms up over her head.

“So here’s what you need to know,” Rubin shouted over the noise of the winch’s crank. “You belonged to Clare, but Clare belongs to me. So now, you belong to me, too, understand?”

“I thought I belonged to her,” Zoe barked back, ignoring the pleading glance Clare was shooting her, “but it turns out I don’t belong to anybody. Especially not you.”

“Oh, sure you do,” Rubin said, moving to a table at the end of the room and pulling out a large, black box covered in dials. “You just don’t know it yet.” He patted the box on the side, adding, “That’s what this baby’s for.”

Rooting around in a drawer, Rubin pulled out a small box overflowing with electrical wiring, and opened a small leather case filled with sticky nodes. He began attaching the nodes to the wires, and then attaching the wires to the black box. Then, he set the black box on the floor beside Zoe and Clare and began sticking the nodes onto their bodies, talking to himself as he worked.

“We’ll start with two on each ass cheek, one just above each clit, and one on each tit. Fourteen nodes, seven a piece. Perfect.”

Zoe’s breathing began to intensify, her heart racing. She was terrified, and Clare could see it. Finally, the two of them met eyes. Clare gave her a gentle nod – you’re going to be OK…

Rubin pulled up a small stool and sat behind his box, flipping a green switch. It began to hum, and Zoe whimpered.

“Not such a tough girl now, are you?” Rubin teased her. She swallowed, telling herself to stay strong.

“Fuck you,” she said, as Rubin gleefully turned one of his many dials. Zoe winced, hearing the clicking sound of the electricity – but felt nothing. Instead, Clare took the shock, a steady stream of painful electricity straight into the four nodes on her ass. She gnashed her teeth against her ballgag, eyes clenched shut, grunting in pain.

“Stop it!” Zoe screamed, “I’m the one you want to hurt!”

Rubin laughed at her. “Clare was right. She said you were a loyal pet. That’s very good, slut.”

With that, he flipped another dial, and Zoe felt her ass clench involuntarily, jolting her hips forward, the searing pain of the electric current pouring through the nodes on her cheeks. She cried out, her face contorted with pain.

After a few moments, Rubin cut both of their dials. Both women’s legs slumped, numb from the shock, their wrist chains the only things keeping them from collapsing.

Rubin smiled at Zoe. “Now that you’ve had a little taste, here’s how this is going to work,” he began. “You’re going to beg me to fuck you in the ass. You’re going to convince me that you want it, that you need it. Make me believe that you want to be my dirty little fuck slut. Until then…”

He turned his dials, sending electricity coursing through Zoe and Clare’s clit nodes, causing both of them to holler and moan in agony.

“…the two of you are going to hang here and sizzle.”

Rubin watched them squirm for a few moments, then turned their voltage up even higher, bringing about even louder wails from both women.

“I love it,” he said to himself, giddy, “I turn the dial here, and get the reaction there.”

“F-Fuck y-you!” Zoe screamed. Rubin flashed a toothy smile before turning more dials, activating the tit nodes as well, sending current alternating between their left and right breasts in short bursts. Each one felt like a punch to the chest to Zoe, knocking the wind out of her, her clit still scorching from the crotch node. Still though, she refused to give Rubin what he wanted.

“Pretty tough, I’ll give you that, slut,” he said, casually cranking up the tit dials, causing each shock to feel like needles drilling into Zoe’s flesh. She screamed in pain, her eyes rolling back in her head, her body twitching from each and every volt.

Finally, Rubin cut the power, and both women slumped again. Zoe panted for breath, shivering uncontrollably, and looked up at Clare, out of breath and disheveled, a long stream of drool dripping down from her ball gag.

“Sooner or later,” Rubin started, “I’m going to break you, just like she did.”

“I can do later if you can,” Zoe said with a defiant smile, spitting at Rubin’s feet. Rubin grinned back at her.

“I can see why Clare likes you so much,” he said, before flipping a dial and sending electricity ripping through Zoe’s clit and ass. She gritted her teeth, determined not to scream, tears beginning to stream down her face. Clare, unaffected, could only watch her girl suffering bravely.

“You know, slut – this is only 40%...” Rubin taunted, cranking the dial up. Zoe’s eyes went wide, and she saw stars as her entire midsection jolted with electricity, her cunt throbbing with pain, her clit on fire. In spite of her best efforts, she cried out, moaning in anguish.

“…and that’s only 60%...” Rubin added, before cutting the power and slapping Zoe’s ass, hard.

“Such a tough slut, I love it,” he said, delighted. “Now you know you can end this. All you  have to do is say the magic words, ‘Please sir, fuck me in my tight, slutty ass.’” Zoe said nothing, panting for breath, her head hung low. Rubin tsk tsked, then flipped the switch – sending electricity pouring through all seven of Clare’s nodes.

Clare’s entire body tensed, her shoulders jolting back and forth as the tit nodes alternated their current, each hit knocking her back in pain.

“Let me show you what 80% looks like,” Rubin said, devilishly cranking up the juice on the box. Clare instantly screamed a loud, agonizing shriek through her ball gag, her body shaking, tears flowing down her face.

Rubin turned to a horrified Zoe. “Wanna see 90%?” He asked.

“Please… please, just stop,” Zoe begged.

Rubin’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so now you feel like begging,” he exclaimed as he turned on Zoe’s tit nodes. “Let’s give you a little taste of 80% and see how much you beg then.”

He turned the dial up, and Zoe screamed, the tendons in her neck completely tense, her face flushed red. She managed to open her eyes, looking over at Clare, still enduring the intensity of the full body shock.

“P-please… p-please stop…” Zoe stammered.

“Those aren’t the magic words, slut,”

“Please f-fuck me…”

“You can do better than that, cunt,” Rubin said derisively. “Now let’s hear you beg for it.”

“Please! Please,” she moaned, “fuck me in the ass!”

“Your tight, slutty ass,” Rubin corrected, turning Zoe’s ass nodes on to 80% as well. Zoe screamed again, then struggled to continue.

“…in m-my tight….slutty… ass…” she yelled out.

“Gotta say it all,” he said teasingly, eliciting a wail of despair from Zoe. “Maybe watching your dear mistress fry at 90% will motivate you.” He cranked up Clare’s dials, her screams growing even louder.

“PLEASE!” Zoe begged, “Fuck my tight, slutty ass!”

“You didn’t say sir,” Rubin said, turning on Zoe’s clit node, “Do it again.”

Zoe screamed in a combination of pain and frustration, shooting one more look at Clare, wriggling in agony, moaning uncontrollably into her gag. Zoe gasped for air through the pain, then shouted:

“PLEASE SIR! PLEASE! FUCK MY TIGHT LITTLE FUCK SLUT ASS! PLEASE!”

Rubin laughed a sadistic laugh. “Close enough,” he said, cutting the power to both women, leaving them both dangling and completely drained. Zoe sobbed, watching as Rubin removed Clare’s ball gag.

“You suffer so beautifully, girl,” he said gently, kissing the top of her head.

“Thank… thank you, sir,” she answered weakly, drool still dripping down from her chin.

He turned to Zoe, pushing the large, purple ball into her mouth and clasping it tightly behind her head.

“Matches your hair,” he said. “Cute.”

Zoe whimpered, too exhausted to put up any further resistance. Rubin had been right, she realized. He was going to break her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She turned and locked eyes with Clare. From behind Rubin’s back, she silently mouthed two words:

“Good girl.”

No, Zoe thought, tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m a dirty little slut. And Zoe heard Clare’s words about dirty little sluts echoing in her head.

“They get fucked.”

**********

Rubin unchained Clare, guiding her to the corner of the room. “Kneel,” he commanded, and she obediently dropped to her knees, facing the wall, hands behind her back.

“No,” he told her, “I want you to watch.” She turned around, facing Zoe. They stared at one another, Zoe still struggling to understand why Clare had betrayed her, and why, in spite of this, she had remained loyal to her as they were being tortured.

Rubin turned the crank and lowered Zoe’s wrists, then re-cuffed her arms to the chain behind her back. Then, he hooked another chain to the ring on her collar, using it to pull her down, bending her over at the waist, her wrists in the air above her back. He hooked the chain to the floor, effectively immobilizing her.

“Perfect,” he said, smacking her ass.

He moved behind her, crouching down, his face inches away from her defenseless, open ass.  He looked at it, inspecting his new prize, a smile on his face.

“Such beautiful welts,” he told Zoe, running his fingertips over her ass cheeks, turning his eyes to Clare, “Looks like someone had fun.” He traced a finger down her crack, settling on Zoe’s hole, rubbing it in a circle, feeling its elasticity.

“Yeah,” he said, “Clare told me you were tight. Hasn’t stopped me before though, don’t you worry. Shit, just ask her.”

Zoe watched as Clare swallowed, her mouth dry.

Rubin moved the box, still wired to Zoe, directly under her head. “Come here, slut,” he said to Clare, who obediently crawled over, kneeling directly in front of Zoe, the two of them eye to eye. “Go ahead and warm her ass with some more electricity while I get ready. Nothing crazy.”

Zoe stared defiantly at Clare, refusing to show emotion. Clare matched her, her face expressionless as she turned the dials, sending the electricity coursing into her ass. Zoe, braced for pain, whimpered and rocked forward slightly at the clicking sound of the current, but quickly realized that the shock was quite low, especially compared with the vicious 90% stream she had just endured. In fact, it was more tingly than painful, with pulsing bursts of light electricity numbing her ass.

“See?” Rubin said from behind her, “It can feel good, too.”

Zoe closed her eyes, trying to block out the fearful thoughts of Rubin’s cock mercilessly pounding her ass. She could hear his clothes coming off, and knew that it wouldn’t be long now… all she could do was endure it. In spite of herself, she found herself imagining Clare’s voice. “That’s a good girl…” it said. “Everything will be OK…”

As if reading her thoughts, Clare reached out, gently stroking Zoe’s cheek. Zoe opened her eyes again, trying to read Clare’s face. The only thing that came to Zoe’s mind was, Mommy’s right here…

Naked now, Rubin walked over to the table, back into Zoe’s sight line, squatting down to root through a drawer. She could see his tan skin, his muscular build, and the thick but soft-looking hair covering his legs and ass. He was actually quite attractive, but that was the last thought she wanted in her head. She pushed it as far out of her thoughts as she could.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, and stood up, turning around; in his hand – a large, thick, black, cock-shaped strap-on. Oh God, Zoe thought, he’s going to have Clare fuck me. She was actually thankful – she knew Clare, and even though she was furious with her, she knew she wasn’t as afraid of her as she was of Rubin.

Then, Zoe noticed Rubin’s scars – one under each of his pectoral muscles. She furrowed her brow, confused, then lowered her gaze down his body, finally seeing…

Oh my God, she suddenly realized. He has no dick.

Rubin smiled at her, noticing her wide-eyed expression. “Don’t worry, slut,” he said, holding up the strap-on with a grin, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Rubin was transgendered, Zoe now realized, female-to-male. She watched as he fastened the strap-on between his legs, then lubricated the dildo. Thank God for lube, she thought.

He moved behind her, giving her ass another hard slap, then crouched down again. “Let’s see how you taste,” he said, before leaning in and burying his face between her cheeks, rimming her, licking in firm, broad licks. Not able to help herself, Zoe moaned into her ballgag – nobody had ever rimmed her before, and much to her surprise, it felt good. Not even good, she thought – it felt great. She moaned again, louder, as Rubin worked his tongue into her ass, the combination of his wet, slippery tongue teasing her hole and the low, steady electricity entering through her cheeks driving her mad with shameful pleasure. She moaned again, angry at herself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing he was making her feel good. The frustration, the helplessness – it all just made matters worse, just as it had with Clare. God, Zoe wondered, am I actually getting wet? Is this turning me on? Do I actually want him to fuck me?

She didn’t want to know the answer to those questions, especially that last one.

“All right, slut,” Rubin, said, pulling his face away from her ass, “I think it’s time you got fucked. Does Daddy’s little fuck slut wanna get her ass reamed?”

He smacked both of her ass cheeks, hard enough to leave bright red handprints, hard enough to make her squeal. “I didn’t hear an answer, slut. I said,” SMACK! “Does Daddy’s little fuck slut wanna get her ass reamed?”

Zoe could only moan unintelligibly through her ball gag.

SMACK! “I can’t understand you, slut!” he yelled, pushing the tip of the dildo up against her hole, “Does Daddy’s little fuck slut want to feel Daddy’s big black cock deep up her ass?” SMACK!

Zoe moaned again, the painful sting of the slaps turning her on like nothing else.

“Answer me, slut!” He yelled, thrusting lightly, teasing her hungry asshole, threatening to penetrate it at any moment. “You want your ass fucked hard, don’t you?” SMACK!

“Don’t you!?” SMACK!

Zoe couldn’t help it – she practically screamed out, “Mmmmm-hmmmm!” through her gag.

And with that, he penetrated her with one smooth thrust, her ass stretching and expanding to accommodate this invasion. She wailed into her gag, and Clare quickly wrapped her arms around her, holding her head tight to her breasts and stroking her hair.

Rubin held still, the dildo just over halfway up Zoe’s ass, giving her a moment to adjust. “Breathe, girl, breathe,” he said gently. “Relax… and take it.” Slowly, he pushed in deeper, and Zoe grunted at the sensation. She cringed, feeling strangely emotional, as feelings of shame, humiliation, and helplessness washed over her. At about three quarters of the way in, he began pulling back, slowly exiting her, smiling at the sight of her stretched hole flexing as the last of the tip came out.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “Such a good little slut.”

He rocked forward, entering her again, harder this time, testing her. She grunted with exertion, still not used to the feeling, but enduring it.

“Just breathe,” Rubin said again, “your ass can take it.”

He started working it in and out, slowly fucking her now, reading her body and responding to her cues. Gradually, her moans became less and less pained, and more and more aroused.  Zoe couldn’t believe it – she was starting to enjoy this. The thought simultaneously horrified and excited her.

Rubin read her signals, gradually increasing the intensity, speeding up his rhythm, pushing the dildo deeper and deeper into her ass. Soon, he was burying it up her tight hole, reaming her ass with firm, quick, deep thrusts – and she was taking it, just like he said she would.

“Daddy’s little slut likes getting fucked in the ass, doesn’t she?” Rubin teased, smacking her ass again. Zoe felt her resistances crumbling.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” she moaned out through the gag.

Rubin grinned, wondering how far he could push this new toy. “Yeah, of course the dirty little fuck slut likes it,” he said, giving her another hard smack. “And she wants it even harder, doesn’t she?”

“Mmmm-hmmm…”

“Doesn’t she?!” SMACK!

“Mmmm-hmmm!”

“DOESN’T SHE?!” SMACK!

“MMMM-HMMM!”

Fucking Zoe with nearly all of his force now, he locked eyes with Clare. “Take her gag off,” he commanded. Clare unfastened it, letting it fall to the floor, along with the drool that had accumulated in Zoe’s mouth.

“Beg me to fuck you harder, slut” He yelled. Zoe, her mind plummeting deep into subspace, immediately obeyed, yelling,

“Please sir, fuck my ass harder!” Rubin began throwing all of his might into his thrusts, plowing the dildo in and out of her ass. Zoe’s mouth hung open – she wanted to scream with ecstasy, but no sound would come out.

Instead, Clare leaned in, kissing her. Zoe couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to, immediately sliding her tongue into Clare’s mouth and kissing her back as passionately as she could, filling her mistress’ mouth with her moans.

Clare released Zoe and laid down on her back in front of her, lifting her legs up and wrapping her thighs around Zoe’s head, pulling the girl’s face down between her legs. Zoe needed no invitation, quickly burying her mouth in Clare’s sweet, wet pussy, voraciously kissing and licking her mistress with a relentless, primal hunger. Clare tilted her head back, letting out a deep, long moan that filled the room, and began thrusting her hips upwards, grinding her crotch across Zoe’s face.

Rubin smiled at the sight, and began grunting with exertion, sweat beginning to bead across his face from the unwavering rapid-fire thrusting. His rhythm began to slow, each thrust punctuating the last. He reached out, taking Zoe’s outstretched hand in his – she clenched it, squeezing tight in rhythm with Rubin’s dying thrusts. Slowly, he came to a stop, working the dildo up Zoe’s ass one last time, all the way to the hilt, holding it inside of her, his hips quivering with exhaustion.

At that moment, with Zoe moaning uncontrollably into her pussy, Clare climaxed, her clit bursting with an overwhelming flood of pleasure. She squeezed her thighs tight around the sides of Zoe’s head, clenching her face in close as she orgasmed. Rubin tore the electrodes off of Zoe’s cheeks, then slowly pulled the dildo out of her ass. She gave a loud, shuddering gasp at the bizarre feeling of the inner wall of her ass suddenly contracting. Rubin wiped the sweat from his brow, smiling down at this submissive young thing, broken down into a perfect fuck slut, her defenses shattered.

Clare lowered her legs, releasing Zoe’s head from her thighs’ insatiable clutches, smiling at the sight of her own wetness dripping off of her pet’s lips. Zoe bowed her head, sweaty, exhausted, and out of breath, the entire bottom half of her body numb from pain, exertion, and ecstasy. She realized that she had orgasmed from the ass reaming Rubin had just given her, an ass reaming she had been terrified to receive, given to her unwillingly by a man who frightened and enraged her. Her head was floating with emotions, as if she was experiencing them all at once and couldn’t decide which one to grasp on to.

Rubin unchained Zoe’s feet and neck, then removed the chain from her wrist cuffs, leaving her wrists cuffed behind her back. She was weak, and he helped her down to her knees, where Clare quickly moved in, holding her, rocking her gently in her arms.

Rubin stared down at the two of them. He was very much aware of the fragile headspace Zoe was in, and knew he had to choose his actions carefully.

“Help her up,” he told Clare, “and take her to get some rest. She’s gonna need it.”

**********

Clare helped a limping Zoe down the dark hallway to an elevator, taking her up two levels, back to the main floor of Rubin’s mansion. Stepping out, Zoe was struck once again by the level of class and elegance, such a stark juxtaposition to the cold, grimy darkness of the sub-basement Shock Room.

Clare led Zoe through a large set of doors into a small, plainly decorated bedroom – her guitar leaning up against the wall, waiting for her. Clare helped Zoe off her feet and onto the bed, where she gratefully sunk into the soft comforter, totally exhausted. She couldn’t even resist as Clare wordlessly pulled a thin, retractable chain from the wall, locking it to Zoe’s collar.

“How are you feeling?” Clare finally asked, taking a seat on the bedside and gently stroking her pet’s hair.

Zoe, laying on her side with her back to Clare, answered without looking at her. “Aren’t you afraid he’s going to punish you for talking to me?”

“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t,” she answered. “If he does, that’s his choice. This is my choice. Now please, answer me – how are you feeling?”

Zoe couldn’t remember the last time Clare had said “please” to her. It sounded… wrong, but Zoe wasn’t sure if anything could sound right coming from Clare again.

“I’m fine,” Zoe finally answered, refusing to admit how sore and broken she felt. “Just leave me alone.”

“Zoe, look at me,” Clare commanded. Zoe hesitated, her instincts telling her to disobey, but something else… something she still didn’t fully understand, telling her not to.

Slowly, Zoe finally turned to face Clare, coolly matching her gaze.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Rubin,” she began. “I wasn’t permitted to. He knew I had a dominant streak, and began instructing me on how to break a girl in as my own. You were the girl that he chose for me.”

Zoe furrowed her brow. “Chose for you?”

“Yes, Zoe,” Clare answered. “Us meeting was no coincidence. Rubin had seen you on the streets. For whatever reason, you stood out to him, you fascinated him. He saw something in you.” She paused, finally adding, “And I see it, too.”

“I agreed to be your girl,” Zoe quickly responded, “I agreed to put my trust in you. Do you have any idea how huge that was for me? And now I’m just supposed to trust Rubin, too?”

Clare sighed. “Without him, we never would have found each other, would we?”

“Maybe that would have been for the best,” Zoe said quietly.

“Do you really believe that?”

Zoe looked long and hard at Clare. She didn’t have that answer yet.

“Just know this,” Clare began, “I told you I would never allow you to be harmed, and I never will. Everything I told you about you and I was the truth. Everything we felt together was real. It’s just…”

“More complicated now,” Zoe finished. Clare nodded.

“Just give it a chance,” Clare pleaded, taking Zoe’s hand. “Stay with me.”

A moment passed before Rubin appeared in the doorway. He motioned for Clare to join him.

“Come on,” he said. “Let the girl sleep.”

Clare was hesitant to rise, giving Zoe’s hand one last squeeze before getting up and following Rubin out of the room, leaving Zoe to herself.

Zoe was silent, her mind racing. Stay with you, she thought, a faint, bitter smile flashing across her face.

Where the fuck else am I supposed to go?

**********

EPILOGUE

Five months later, Zoe was still closing her eyes whenever she sang. Only now, it was because of the bright lights bearing down on her. At least, that’s what she told people.

She sat on stage at the small club, her purple Mohawk gone, replaced with short, light brown curls, and finished a song for a sparse, mostly respectful crowd. It was about as good as she could hope to play for in a small city like Fort Bell, Texas, just another stop on the way to Austin. Music had never been easy, but it had always been all she had ever wanted, and even if it was all she would ever have, well – that was all right with her, she had decided.

The song ended, and Zoe smiled at the smattering of applause, waving to the crowd.

“Thank you,” she shouted out, “you’ve been such a nice crowd this evening, I hope you’ve all enjoyed yourself. My name is Hannah Franklin, and I’ve got one more for you here before the main attraction comes out.”

She strummed a chord, then turned back up to the crowd. “I don’t usually like talking about my songs,” she started, “but I guess I’m feeling chatty tonight. This one is a song about running away, something I guess I know a little bit about. If any of you out there are running from something, well, I guess this one’s for you then.”

She closed her eyes and began to sing, the same song she had sang for Rubin and Clare. She rarely played it anymore, because it made her think of them, but then again, it wasn’t like she needed an excuse to think about them anyway… especially Clare.

“Stay with me…”

They were the last words Zoe had heard Clare say. Rubin had led her out of the room, and that was the last she saw of her. Simple as that.

She laid on that bed for nearly an hour, thinking. She could already feel herself starting to trust Clare again, or at least wanting to – but that’s what had scared her. She looked down, staring her hands…

…Staring at the key to her collar, the key from Clare’s necklace, the key that Clare had furtively placed into her hand just before Rubin had taken her away. All Zoe had to do was unlock and remove her collar, and she’d be free. Hell, the window in her room was even open – she could just wrap up in a sheet, hop out with her guitar, and hitch-hike her way out of town. It would be so easy…

But then why had Zoe been lying there for an hour, wondering what to do? Did part of her really want to stay with the two of them? She had just been electro-tortured, her ass had just been brutally fucked – some might have even called it rape. And she didn’t want to run? She wanted more?

It all came back to Clare, Zoe knew, and those three little words. Stay with me. Yes, Clare had lied to her, or at least kept the truth from her, but she couldn’t deny that their connection had been real. She had feelings for the woman, incredible feelings that she hadn’t ever felt before. She had to believe that Clare felt those same feelings. She trusted that at least that was true.

But Clare had given her the key. Did Clare want Zoe to leave? No, Zoe decided. She had wanted Zoe to have a choice – and she had wanted Zoe to choose to stay. If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back, it’s yours…

Love or freedom, Zoe realized, she had to choose. She could have one or the other, but she couldn’t have both. She was crying now, the immense stakes of her decision finally clear to her.

Finally, she lifted the key to the lock. She held it there, tears streaming down her face, so completely unsure of herself.

Stay with me, she could hear Clare saying.

She felt her own heart break as she turned the key, the collar snapping open, falling from her neck. She knew there was no going back.

Zoe came to the end of her song, the venerable, reliable old guitar ringing out the final chords. The audience clapped politely, and Zoe smiled brightly, doing the best she could to hide the emotions she was feeling inside, the painful, cathartic memories that the song always brought to the forefront of her mind.

“Thanks so much everyone,” she said sweetly, “Good night!”

She rose from her stool, taking a quick bow and waving to the crowd. One club closer to Austin, she thought. One club farther away from California…

**********

“Man, she’s really something, isn’t she?” the waiter said, collecting glasses from the table. “That voice… God, she was beautiful, right?”

“Yeah, she was something all right.”

“And that beat up old guitar,” the waiter added, “what an instrument. I mean, I’ve been bussing tables here every weekend for three years now, and that’s one of the best acts I’ve seen play here. And I’m always looking out for new talent, you know?”

Rubin looked to Clare, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, we’ve been looking for someone like her, too,” he said, watching as Zoe made her way backstage. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a large bill. “Now, can you go ahead take this for our tab? We’ve got an old friend to catch up with. Just keep the extra.”

The waiter nodded, grateful for the huge tip, leaving them to their evening.

“C’mon,” Rubin told Clare, “Let’s go introduce ourselves to ‘Hannah’…”

**********

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rynna Cress is a writer and activist living in Dayton, Ohio. When not holed up at home writing out her dark, erotic fantasies, she enjoys spending time outdoors with her many wonderful dogs.

She welcomes all questions, comments, and feedback regarding her work at rynnacress@gmail.com, and humbly encourages anyone who enjoyed this story to help support her by posting their review on the book’s website. Thanks for reading!

**********