Sex-Doll: An O'Connell Chronicle

“White and brown, eh?” she mused, noting the simplicity of his home’s décor. “No pictures, nothing. Just a couch, a couple of recliners and your television. Just like you. Simple.”
He leaned forward and knocked on the oak coffee table. “Don’t forget the coffee table.”
Belinda smiled and nodded her head as she rolled her eyes. “I’m sure the bedroom is far more opulent.”

“Well, yeah. It’s where I torture my victims.”

“What no dungeon?”

Harper laughed. “I have a work shop out back. It used to be a barn. I make some fun things there. I have a few fun things already made, too.” He grinned. “But, yeah, the bedroom is more ‘opulent,’ as you say.” He made air quotes with his fingers.

“Well, I expect the guest bedroom is a bit less dungeon-like.”

“Oh, that’s so sad!”

Belinda giggled. “I think this time we should keep things on a friendship only basis. The last time I visited you nearly killed me.”

“You’re just saying that because you had a hard time walking afterwards.”

Belinda giggled. “It’s hard to walk when every step makes you cum.”

He laughed. “I can only imagine. And it’s quite a feat considering how much you dislike anal sex, But you should know, I thoroughly enjoyed fucking your ass. Even if you claim to have disliked it.”

A snort escaped her and she shook her head. “You’re a bad man. It isn’t just a claim. It’s a fact.”
“I disagree about it being a fact. As for being bad: Why, yes, yes I am!”

After a pleasant time chatting, wherein Belinda related to Harper her more recent travails, the pair sat down to dinner. There they made more small talk as they enjoyed a lovely and satisfying meal of chicken, baked potatoes and steamed broccoli.

“I really appreciate you taking me in,” Belinda told him. “I was really shocked when you offered – even more so when you bought my plane ticket.”

Harper stared at her for a short moment, noting the slight cleavage peeking out from her close fitting, white blouse. Glancing at her form, largely hidden by the dinner table, he thought to times past when she had belonged to him; to memories of other times, long after their breakup, when she had visited and given herself to him for brief moments. He remembered her strapped to a bench, knees brought up beside her head and with arms wrapped round her thighs, wrists strapped behind so she was utterly helpless to be used as he pleased.

It had always been that way with Belinda. She could never give him what he wanted. Nevertheless, he had taken. It was, in truth, what she needed. He knew it. They both did.

“You needed me,” was Harper’s simple reply. “And I do love you. You know that.”

She nodded. “I know. I love you, too.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I do wish I could be what you need,” Belinda told him. “It would make life so much easier for us both if I could. And I know you would take good care of me. You already do, and we aren’t even together.”

“Why did you leave exactly?”

She rolled her eyes, wiping her lips with the white, cloth napkin and placing it on the table beside her empty plate. Belinda leaned back and shook her head. “You always ask me that.” She shook her head and laughed. “You know why I left.”

“Because you couldn’t be a slave. That’s what you say.”

“And because I couldn’t do the things you wanted me to do.”

Harper grinned. “You did them anyway. And you liked doing them.”

“No. I liked pleasing you. That’s why I came like I did. Otherwise,” she paused and looked up at the ceiling and back at Harper, “otherwise I would never have let you force me into doing those things.”

“Let me?” Harper cocked an eyebrow.

Belinda grinned and pushed back her chair. “Yes. I never would have allowed you to do those things to me if I hadn’t wanted to please you, Harp. And, yes, ‘allowed’ is the correct word.”
“Why did you ‘allow’ me to do those things, exactly?” he asked, sarcastically emphasizing her chosen phrase.

“Because you love me. Because I liked pleasing you, and I know you would never do anything to hurt me.” She stood just then, telling him she wanted to get into her pajamas. “Where is my bedroom?”

Harper smiled, wiped his lips with his napkin and stood. “Right this way,” he said. Stepping away from the table, he gathered her suitcases and led her to the guest bedroom.

After Harper departed the bedroom, and as Belinda opened her suitcase to remove her things, she took a deep breath and sighed. The man was far too attractive and knew her far too well. Already she found herself wanting. Regardless, she well knew that giving into her wants would be far from productive. There was simply no way she could fathom being what he wanted. Besides, his fetishes were ridiculously beyond her, regardless of the many times she had indulged him. Granted, she had enjoyed herself immensely. But living as he wished was simply too much to imagine.

This time, she told herself, things would be different. She would not fall into the trap of being ‘friends with benefits,’ nor would she allow herself to hope for something more. Harper was, for all his wonderful characteristics, not the man for her. Thus, no matter how she might want to enjoy his tall, muscular body, she would refrain. So she decided.

Part 2

Once in her loose fitting blue and white pajamas, Belinda made her way to the living room. There, seated on the couch, and still wearing his blue jeans and t-shirt, was Harper. Handsome as ever, Belinda wanted nothing more than to be with him. His presence alone made her wet with desire. Regardless, she dismissed those wants as she approached, flopping down on the couch beside him.

“Do you remember – way back when – when I wanted to make you into my slave?” asked Harper.

She nodded. “You did make me into your slave. I was your slave for a year.”

“No. I mean into a permanent slave.”

“You mean with the permanent bondage stuff?”

Harper nodded.

“Yeah. It freaked me out.”

Grinning, Harper eased up and reached behind the couch. “I thought you would come to your senses,” he said, holding up a set of wide, metal cuffs and holding one out to her. “I made these after I got all set up here. The edges are all rounded so as not to be uncomfortable.”

A sudden wave of arousal came over Belinda. She shook it off, though not without effort. “They look nice,” she said, taking the proffered cuff and looking it over. “You aren’t using them on me, though.”

“They aren’t round like a lot of cuffs. I made them to fit the wrist. Your wrist specifically. I have a collar, too.”

“You still aren’t using any them on me.”

Ignoring her, Harper continued. “See the hinge and the little holes in the back?”

“Yeah.”

“Close it. You’ll notice the hinge is invisible.”

Belinda closed one of the cuffs and nodded. “Yeah. You can’t see it. But how does it lock shut? All I see are the little rings on either side. I don’t see a lock.”

“Well, I have a couple of little pins that fit inside. They thread in one side and snap into the other.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew the pins. “See how the one end is threaded and the other is sort of like an arrowhead?”

“Yeah.”

“Once they close the little arrowhead compresses a little. Note the slight notch in the tip?”

Belinda took the tiny pin and held it up to the light. “Yeah. Pretty groovy. But how do you get it apart?”

“You don’t. Not without some very careful cutting.”

Belinda shivered, her nipples suddenly hard as she realized the cuffs were meant to be permanent. “Is the collar made the same way?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you get a chance to use them some day,” Belinda said, suddenly avoiding eye contact. She shifted in her seat and handed the cuff back to Harper.

“I have a set for your ankles, too.”

“Not my ankles, mister! There is no way in Hell you are making me into a permanent slave.” She got up suddenly and stretched. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“It’s nine, Belinda.” His voice became suddenly stern. “Sit down.”

In spite of her words, Belinda’s arousal would not be denied, and she found her will evaporating.
Suddenly on the couch beside him, she shook her head to clear her mind. Briefly recovering, she shook her head. “I can’t be what you want, Harp. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not that girl. I have a life to lead. I can’t just be a sex slave, serving you and your wants.”

Again, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because it’s not me. Because I don’t like the things you like. More importantly, I don’t want those things. They aren’t for me.”

Harper smiled and nodded. “Okay.” He turned and picked up the television remote and pointed it at the television where it hung on the wall. “What do you want to watch?”

Later, as Belinda crawled into bed, she took a deep breath, remembering how good it felt when he demanded she sit down, and how she wanted to give him everything. Suddenly tearful at being unable to capitulate to his wants, she cried herself to sleep.

Next day, over a light breakfast, the two sat and talked. Belinda was still wearing her pajamas. Harper, as was his custom, was in blue jeans and a white t-shirt. For a short time they reminisced over fun moments, and then finally got down to more important and pressing matters.

“So what’s your first move?” Harper asked.

“Well, my options are sort of limited. I don’t have a high school diploma. So I guess I need to find a supermarket or something to start. They sort of hire anyone.”

“Well, as I told you, you can use the old Pontiac to get around in until you can afford a car.”

“I want you to know that I really appreciate what you’re doing for me,” Belinda told him, adding, “Also, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, I am really thankful you’re letting me live here until I can get back on my feet.”

“Stay as long as you need.”

“I will pay you back. Every dime. I mean it.”

Harper grinned. “Well, we could simply take it out in trade.”

“Wise ass!”

For the remainder of the day Belinda spent her time in Harper’s office, a room decorated only with a desk, a few file cabinets and a computer, searching for jobs on the internet.

Later that night, and following an exhausting day of prospecting jobs, Belinda headed to the kitchen to make dinner. Harper, she knew, had done his best to stay out of her way and had likely exhausted himself in his shop. Such had always been his way. It was nearing seven that evening when he finally made it into the house. By then he was thoroughly filthy and quite tired.

“Go take a shower and get in here,” she called from the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

“Sounds good,” he called back, heading for his bedroom.

As the water cascaded over his tired body, Harper thought to the girl in the kitchen. She was everything he had ever wanted, and he loved her dearly. Quite suddenly he remembered a time when they had showered together. They had done so often. Each time it had been an adventure, and she had never failed to please him. The many memories, their long history, and the fact she brought out his dominant tendencies made it all the more difficult not to impose his will upon the girl. Nonetheless, he decided it best if he allowed her to do as she wished, no matter that it failed to coincide with his wants.

Some thirty minutes after he had come into the house he was at the dinner table.

“You still dress the same,” Belinda mused. “Always the blue jeans. Always the t-Shirt. Do you ever change?”

“I have a few other things,” Harper admitted. “I even have a couple of suits.”

“Yeah. All moth eaten and unused, I’m sure.”

Harper grinned. “Probably.”

Over dinner they talked pleasantly, occasionally reminiscing over times long in the past. She told him of her job search and he shared details of his current project boring out an old engine for a biker he knew. “It’s more hobby than anything. I definitely don’t need the money,” he finished.
“Don’t I know it?”

They continued talking pleasantly, both secretly wanting of the other and neither speaking of that want. Eventually, following dinner, the pair retired to the living room, Harper taking up space in one of his recliners and Belinda on the couch, legs stretched out across its length. There they relaxed, talking as their evening wore away.

“Do you ever wonder what things would be like if we had stayed together?” Harper asked, eyes closed as he relaxed. “I mean, what would I be like? What would you be like?”

Belinda laughed. “I think you would be the same. I think I would be very different.”

“Meaning?

“Well, for starters, my ass would be very loose by now.”

Harper opened his eyes and smiled, closing them a moment later. “I doubt that. I mean, yes, I would have used it a lot. But I don’t think it would be loose.”

“Remember the beer bottle blow job – that’s some alliteration - and how the next few days went?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. That was really fun.”

“Asshole.”

“Besides the ass thing,” he continued. “What would we be like?”

“I told you. I think you would be the same. I would be the one who was different.”

He raised his head and opened his eyes again, smiling. “Tell me what you mean. How would you be different?”

Belinda smirked and then stared up at the ceiling. “I think I would be gone.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I would be a slave and nothing else,” Belinda told him. “I would live to serve you. Nothing else would be important. It would all be about you, making you cum, serving you and being a perfect slave.”

“You don’t think I would be all about you?”

“I would live to serve you and you would live to have me serve you.”

“Could you be less specific, maybe?”

“When I was with you, Harp, I lost myself. No, I wasn’t an automaton, but I wasn’t myself. I had no will of my own. All I wanted to do was fuck and suck. How’s that?”

Harper grinned and took a deep breath. “So you think you wouldn’t want anything else?”

“Not really,” she said. “And who knows what my body would be like. You do have a penchant for big tits and fat lips.”

“You really think I would do that to you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Harper nodded. “I do have a penchant for that sort of thing. But I really can’t imagine you being a fuck monster, like you think. Eventually you would learn to deal with how you felt and get back to being you. You would just be horny all the time.”

Belinda laughed. “Um, Harp?”

He opened his eyes and gave her a nod. “Yeah?”

“My sex drive is stupid. I can’t get enough.”

“Wasn’t it always like that?”

Shaking her head, Belinda told him it was not. “It wasn’t until I got with you that I fully enjoyed sex. You sort of turned me into a nympho.”

“Hmm, I never knew that.”

“Yeah, well, my boyfriends did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at me, fucker!” Belinda demanded in mock anger.

Harper laughed and opened his eyes, raising his head from the recliner. “What?”

“I wore my boyfriends out. They couldn’t keep up with me.” She gave him a stern look. “I am okay if I’m not having any sort of sex. You know I don’t like to masturbate. So, when I’m single I can deal. But soon as I start having sex I can’t get enough. I’m horny all the fucking time. That’s your fault, mister!”

Harper chuckled. “Good. Want some sex?”

“Shut up, asshole!”

“So, you mean – and I hope I’m getting this right – before me you weren’t that way?”

“No! No I wasn’t!” she said loudly. “I was a good girl. Yeah, I liked sex. But I wasn’t driven by it.”

“Driven, eh?”

“Yeah. Driven.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Okay. I never told you this. But here goes.” Belinda gave a long pause. “So, when I start having sex, and if the guy is remotely dominant, it sort of makes me go all blank. I mean, I can function just fine. But when I’m with them, or if I am remotely stimulated, I kind of fade. All I want is sex, sex, and more sex.”

Harper smiled and shook his head. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, you sort of programmed me, I think.”

“Programmed?”

“Well, how many times did you torture me with orgasm? You withheld them and then gave me so many I couldn’t take it.”

“Rhetorical question?”

“You did it a lot. And I know you remember how it would send me into a sort of mindless state. Well, that happens now when I start to get aroused.”

“Hmm,” Harper frowned, “that means you haven’t been aroused since you’ve been here? I would have thought my strong, masculine body would have sent you over the edge the way you’re talking.”

Belinda smirked. “I have to get more than a little aroused. And yeah, I’ve been horny since I got here. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you fuck me. So wipe that stupid grin from your face!”

Part 3

Harper found that sleep evaded him that night. Belinda’s mentioning of the bottle blow job filled his memory. Aroused, he began stroking himself as he recalled that night and the few nights following.
He was living in Los Angeles at the time, and she had only just come into town from Seattle. They were not lovers. They were friends. But that had never stopped them.

That night, soon after dinner and as he relaxed in his recliner with a bottle of beer, he called her over. “Strip,” he told her.

Obediently, Belinda stripped. Then, as she stood naked before him, he demanded she kneel and suck his cock. Never more than mildly resistant, she fell to her knees, fished his member from his jeans and started sucking. For nearly twenty minutes they remained so.

“You’re such a good cock sucker,” he told her. “You really are.”

Belinda popped her head up and smiled. “You’re just saying that because you trained me.”

Harper smiled and placed his hand beneath her chin. “Let’s get to the bedroom. I want to take off my clothes and get more comfy.”

On the bed, slightly propped up on pillows, Harper watched as Belinda, laying between his spread legs, sucked his cock. Still holding the bottle of beer, he reveled in the sight and feel of her lips as she sank down on his member, taking it into her throat and bobbing repeatedly until breath demanded otherwise.

“Bring your ass around here,” Harper demanded after draining the last remnant from the bottle.
She looked up from between his legs, releasing his cock from her mouth and letting it spring back against him. “You want my ass over your face?”

He nodded his head. “Yes. Straddle me on your knees. I want access.”

Belinda nodded and gave a dreamy smile as she eased herself up to hands and knees. Moving slowly, she turned and threw her leg over him, pushing her ass nearly to his face before being stopped.

“Suck me, Bel.”

At slightly less than five feet tall, Belinda’s ass and sex hovered over Harper’s chest, allowing him full view and access to her most private areas as she sucked him.

“I love that big ass of yours, Bel. I love that tiny, chubby pussy, too,” he told her.

“Thank you,” she said, briefly removing her mouth from his member.

For many minutes Harper played with her sex, rubbing her clit and thrusting his fingers into her wet hole. It was only after he took the final swig of beer the idea of bottle fucking her came to mind. At first he was hesitant, worried the bottle might break. Then he remembered seeing videos of women stuffed with wine bottles and the like. A moment later he fed the narrow end of the bottle into her vagina and started fucking her.

“Is that the bottle?” Belinda asked.

“It is. Now suck me. Not another word.”

It was not long before Harper brought the bottle to her ass. Immediately she pulled from his cock and grunted out a weak word of resistance.

“Quiet!” he told her. “Suck my cock. Don’t dare take your mouth off unless I say otherwise.”
In spite herself, she complied with his wishes, engulfing his cock once again with full knowledge the bottle would soon be inside her.

A few moments later the bottle’s top was pushing firmly against her anal sphincter, drawing forth a whine of unhappiness from the girl. A slight increase of pressure and the bottle slid into her ass.
“Does that feel good?” Harper asked, slowly working the bottle deeper.

“Hmm, mmm,” was her unhappy reply.

Harper reached over to the nearby nightstand and withdrew a bottle of lubricant from its drawer. After removing the bottle from her asshole he drizzled the lubricant over her plump, round bottom, and spread it about, working it into her hole. Once satisfied he capped the lubricant and placed it beside him. Then he eased the bottle back into her asshole and began fucking her with it.

Stroking the bottle back and forth, he marveled at the elasticity of her sphincter. Before long, and having pushed the bottle deeper with each inward thrust, the bottle was sunk to its midpoint.
“Does it feel good?” he asked, again.

She shook her head without taking her mouth from his cock, grunting in the negative.
He withdrew the bottle and lubricated her ass again, rubbing copious amounts of the viscous liquid into her hole. Then again he brought the bottle to her ass. This time, however, he began pushing it in bottom first.

The moment she realized his intentions Belinda lifted her head from his cock and let out a word of refusal. A brief exchange was had, after which Belinda was told to return to her cock sucking duties. The moment she did so the bottle was brought to her ass and, despite her continued moans of unhappiness, slid into her rectum, bottom first.

Unhappily, and as he fucked her ass with the thickest part of the bottle, Belinda continued sucking his cock. Her whining complaints were loud, though no more so than when she felt her sphincter closing along the tapered end of the bottle. It was then, with but a few short inches of the bottle protruding from her ass, she tasted his orgasm.

Belinda spent the better part of the night with the bottle in her ass, its shape preventing it from slipping out. It was not until the wee hours of the morning, when she complained about the terrible ache in her bottom, he removed it.

The memory had been a fond one for Harper, so much so that it had become a regular remembrance during moments of self-pleasure. It was a memory he wished he could relive again. But there were many things he wished he could relive. Sadly, he knew such things were entirely unlikely. It did not keep him from fantasizing about future moments with Belinda, and he hoped, in spite of all he knew, another such opportunity would present itself.

He did not sleep well that night.

Part 4

For the next month Belinda continued her search for work. But there were few jobs to be had in that part of Arizona; fewer still for a high school dropout. It was early in the evening as they were eating dinner that Belinda voiced her frustration.

“You could always be my slave,” said Harper, grinning widely. “I think you’d like it.”

Belinda shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Harp. I’m really frustrated.”

“What are you going to do if you can’t get a job?”

“I have to get a job. I can’t rely on your good nature and our friendship.”

He smiled at her just then. “Well, it’s only been a month. Just keep looking.”

That month, and then the next, passed with but a single phone interview. Otherwise every application – those that bothered to reply – was responded to in the negative.

“I think I have to go back to Los Angeles,” she told Harper. They were sitting on the couch after a late dinner. Frustration shone on her face.

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“Um, you don’t have any money. I mean, I have no problem giving you some cash, but unless you’re willing to take a steady paycheck from me you aren’t in any shape to go anywhere.”

“I know. But what else can I do?” she asked. Her voice was trembling and she was near to tears.

“Are you willing to take a paycheck?”

Belinda shook her head. “I can’t. I already owe you so much.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. What can I do?”

Harper had been rehearsing for this moment almost since she had arrived. Never believing it would, he was almost afraid to act when it did.

“Okay, it’s time for an executive decision,” Harper told her after a long silence.

As she looked at him questioningly he left his seat on the couch and departed the room. When he returned he was brandishing the cuffs he had shown her. There was also a collar of similar design.

“Get off the couch and take off your clothes,” he told her.

Belinda stared at him with wide, questioning eyes. “I can’t do that, Harper. I can’t.”

“Obey me, Belinda. Get up and take off your clothes.” His voice was soft but commanding. Already his cock was hard.

She well knew the tone in his voice, and it aroused her terribly, made her slightly light headed. Much as she wanted to obey, however, she knew it was an impossibility; so Belinda remained as she was, refusing his command.

“I have made my expectations known, Belinda.” He said it softer this time. Still, there was a subtle but powerful command in his voice.

“Harp, I…”

“Stand and undress, Bel. Do it now. Do it for me. Then come to where I stand and kneel.” Harper smiled, his voice softer yet. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Melting at his words, at the commanding yet gentle way he spoke, Belinda rose and began removing her clothing. It had always been that way between them. She would resist, only to find herself obeying his every command. Such was his power over the girl that her resistance faded as quickly as it arose. Once naked she came to him, kneeling at his feet and looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes.

“Hold out your right hand.”

As if in a dream Belinda lifted her hand. “Are these the same cuffs? Are they the ones you made to be permanent?”

He wrapped the first cuff round her wrist. “They are.” The soft click as it locked in place made her jump. “Give me your other hand.”

Belinda presented her left hand and watched as he encircled her wrist with the other cuff and locked it on.

“The cuffs are a titanium alloy. The pins are, too. There is no way to get them off without a diamond edged saw; then it would take hours. The heat generated would burn your skin terribly.”

With her wrists cuffed she stared at them, her mind swirling with the implications. She did not want to be a slave, no matter how much she loved him or how he loved her. Regardless, she found herself gathering her hair and lifting it as he slipped the wide collar around her neck. It was only when it snapped shut she understood what was transpiring.

Belinda waited quietly, kneeling as she stared up at her new master, knowing all the while she should never have allowed the current situation to come about. But try as she might she hadn’t the willpower to resist the man before her. It was then she realized he could have exerted this power over her long ago. Only his respect for her wants had kept him from doing so. Now, it seemed, his only concern was in having her as his own.

“I’ve a little more to do and then we are through,” he started. “You may be unhappy with what I am about to do, but it will happen anyway. Do you understand?”

With her mind roiling in arousal and fear, Belinda nodded.

“What are you going to do?” she asked. Then she whispered, “I don’t want to be a slave.”

Harper held up a six inch length of metal rod. Round, there was a single hole at each end. “I am attaching this to the back of your collar. It should hang down to just above your middle back. Then I am attaching your cuffs to it. Are you still as flexible as you used to be?”

“Yes,” she whispered, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes.

He stepped behind her and had her lift her hair again. “Do you remember when I took your arms from you for a month?”

“Yes.” There was a slight click and she knew the rod was attached to her collar. How she did not know, for he had failed to show her the mechanism. Though she suspected it was similar to how the cuffs were fastened to her wrists.

“This is going to be long term as well.”

“How long?”

“Permanently.”

The prospect of permanently losing her arms filled her with a terrible fear and anguish. Nonetheless, she remained unmoving, unable to resist his command or even move to prevent her immanent bondage. She knew then, in spite of any protestation she thought to make, that Harper owned her, body and soul.

After having Belinda drape her hair forward over her left shoulder he withdrew a short rod from his jeans and fed it through the bottom most hole of the rod dangling from the back of her collar. Then, one by one, Harper pulled each wrist up and fastened them so her wrists were no more than three inches apart. She was not told how they were fastened, that he only need remove a small pin to free her. Thus, it was her belief that she had lost her arms forever.

Harper sat on the couch. Before him was Belinda, her beautiful, full breasts pushed forward as she kneeled, arms locked behind her, wrists between her shoulder blades. In the many hours since her recent enslavement the only words spoken had been his when he had spoken to her of her immense beauty, and how wonderful it was to have her as his slave again. Now, however, he was ready for conversation.

“What was the best part about being my slave?” asked Harper.

“The security and love.” Her answer was spoken flatly with little inflection.

“And the worst?”

“Being ass fucked all the time, never having normal sex, and the few times you used me as a toilet.”

“As I recall, you enjoy getting ass fucked. You certainly cum hard when I do. You also never complained when I used you as a urinal, and you rarely spoke of vaginal sex.”

“When I agreed to be your slave you told me that my wants were immaterial. I knew what that meant. I knew it wouldn’t matter if I complained. Besides, all I wanted was to please you.”

“What do you think is going to happen to you now that you are my slave again?”

“You are going to use me for your pleasure.”

Harper laughed. “Of course I am. But what does that entail?”

“Blow jobs, ass fucking, being a urinal, and whatever else you feel like doing to me.” Her voice still lacked any inflection. “Probably you will use a bottle on me again.”

“Tell me the real reason you left me, Bel. Tell me the truth this time.”

“Because we weren’t compatible as lovers, and because I don’t want to be a slave.”

“That’s a lie, Bel,” he said softly. “Tell me the real reason.”

She looked at him for a long moment, a tear suddenly running down her cheek. “Because you make me lose myself. I can’t resist you,” she said. Her voice was filled with sadness. “I knew that if I stayed I would disappear entirely, become a non-entity, a plaything for sex and little else.”

“Are there any other reasons?”

Belinda nodded and then stared at the floor. “I knew that you would find it impossible to resist living out your most terrible fantasies with me. You have no control over yourself once you get going.” She paused for a moment, and then looked him directly in the eye. “And I can’t stop you. It’s not in me to stop you. That’s why.”

“And now that I have you. Tell me the full extent to what you imagine will become of you.”

“I will become the plaything I feared. I’ll lose myself in pleasing you, and become a non-entity.”

Belinda looked down again. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She sniffed. Then she looked at him. “You used to threaten to make my tits even bigger than they are now. You’ll do that. You’ll make my lips bigger. But most of all, I think you will take away my humanity, decorate my body and make it so I have no chance of ever living a normal life.”

“You really believe that? Knowing how I love you, that’s what you think I will do to you?”

“I am as sure of it as I know myself.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

Belinda frowned. “Because I won’t stop you. Because the more you do to me the more you will want to do to me. You will have nothing to stop you.”

“If you know all that - if that’s what you think will happen – why did you cooperate me when I put you in the cuffs and collar?” he asked, curious that she had offered no resistance. “Why didn’t you resist when I removed your arms from use?”

“What else was I going to do? The only jobs I can get are shit-hole, minimum wage jobs. I knew that. I can’t support myself on minimum wage.”

“So your willingness was about that?”

“Oh, God.” She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “No. That’s the excuse I gave myself while I waited for you to put me to use.”

“Then tell me.”

“It wasn’t really willingness. I wasn’t willing. I was helpless. But I’ve always been helpless where you’re concerned.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been fighting you off since I got here. All your little tongue-in-cheek offers. But it was harder and harder each time,” she admitted. Her eyes were focused on the floor now. “It was terrible resisting you, and I knew I would eventually give in.”

“So, you gave in because you knew you would eventually?”

Again, Belinda shook her head. “No. It’s my resistance. It had been… dissipating. I was weakening. The last straw was you demanding I kneel. I could have fought you off if you just wanted me naked, or if you just wanted to fuck me. But you told me to kneel and I…I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“When you turn into the dominant, when you show me your ownership, I just have no fight. I can’t…deny you.”

Harper cocked his head and flashed a crooked smile. “I’m glad, Belinda. I’ve always wanted you. It makes me happy. All I’ve ever wanted was to own you, body and soul. I had inklings I already did. But I wasn’t sure. Now that I am, you should know, I have no intentions of letting you go.”

Belinda flashed a sad smile.

“Why do you look so sad?”

“Because you have no control once you get going. Because I know you will change me, and because I won’t be able to stop you.”

Harper smiled.

Part 5

It was late when the pair crawled into his bed. They had only just taken a shower and were both naked. To her surprise, Harper had not used her a single time since taking her arms, and when he failed to do so now it made her wonder if he was somehow upset with her.

“What makes you think I’m upset with you?” Harper asked when pressed on the matter.
Belinda, who lay on her side facing Harper, stared out at his silhouetted form in the darkness of the bedroom, shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe…I mean, I just expected we would have had sex by now.”

“I was giving you time to get adjusted to our new arrangement.”

“There’s nothing to get adjusted to. I’ve always been yours. All you ever had to do was take ownership.”

Harper turned from his back to his side, facing her. “Are you glad I have taken ownership of you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason I left you.”

“So you’re really afraid of me making you into a plaything?

“I’m not afraid of it. I just don’t want to change like that. I want to be me.”

He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. “What if that is you?”

She shrugged. “It isn’t. But it doesn’t really matter. It will be. Whether I want it or not. It will be.”

“What about the fact it pleases me?”

Belinda shrugged. “Pleasing you has always made me happy. It’s what happens to me that doesn’t.
“You keep saying how you’re worried about how you would change – that you would become a plaything. You seem to like that word. But, do you really think I would change you? Yes, I have threatened as much in the context of our conversations. But do you really think I would physically change you?”

“I think I will change. Then you will change me. There is no question in my mind. You will change me.”

“How do you think I will change you, Bel?”

She shrugged again. “I’m not entirely sure. You’ve always had a thing about control. That might mean more metal on my body. I don’t know. I am only certain that you will find ways to exert more control. I don’t know how. But you will. Then you will give me the boobs you want me to have. After that, I have no idea. I only know I won’t be given a choice. It’s inevitable.”

Harper was quiet for a moment, inwardly considering her comments. Finally he asked, “Do you want me to use you?”

Tears sprang forth from her eyes as the answer rang out in her head. “Yes, Master!”

Throwing the covers from their bodies, Harper got to his knees and manhandled the girl, maneuvering her so she was on her knees, head down and resting on the bed. He spread her ass and spit on it several times. Then he placed the head of his cock on her puckered hole and gently pushed in, making her cry out in pain.

“Does it feel good?” Harper asked, slowly working his cock inside her ass.

“No, Master.”

“Are you going to cum?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

Slowly, at first, Harper slid his erect cock in and out of her ass with short, shallow strokes. Soon, and with his hands grasping her firmly about the hips, he was pounding into her, reveling in her howls of pain and pleasure. It was not long before she climaxed, and only slightly longer before he followed suit.

Harper remained behind her, his hard cock deeply embedded in her ass. When he began withdrawing Belinda came another time, prompting him to begin thrusting anew. She climaxed three more times before he could go no more.

Flopping down on the bed beside her, Harper ordered she clean him. Distasteful as it was and always had been, Belinda eased back on her knees and edged herself into position, bending forward to take his cock into her mouth and suck him clean.

“Did you enjoy that?” Harper asked. It was her cue that she could stop servicing him.

Belinda sat up on her knees and rolled herself to her side. “No, Master. I didn’t.”

“You never complain about those things. Never have. Why is that?”

“I told you. It’s because I want to please you. Because I can’t resist you.”

After being told to lay down beside him, the pair talked for nearly an hour. Finally, Belinda rolled to her other side, facing away from him. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked.

“I only know I am going to keep you,” he replied.

Minutes later they were both fast asleep.

For the next several weeks Belinda became ever more silent. At first Harper took it for depression and withdrawal. But when questioned Belinda told him it was neither. It was simply that she was becoming accustomed to his expectations and falling more into the role he had given her.

“You were never so quiet when we were together before,” he noted to her.

They were in the living room. Belinda was on her knees in front of Harper where he sat on the couch. Harper had just turned off the television and was nursing a beer.

“I was never a real slave. I am now, though.” She turned her head and saw the tips of her curled fingers behind her. Looking back at Harper she asked, “Aren’t I?”

“Would it be any different for you if I released your arms?”

“You can do that?”

Harper nodded. “I can. The cuffs are permanent. The arm bondage is not. Not yet. That I intend on saving for later, after I have your tits done.”

“Ah, then you are going to change me after all. Then what? Will you make my arm bondage permanent after that?”

“Probably,” he said, nodding.

She shrugged.

“You still haven’t answered me,” he told her. “Would it be different for you if I released your arms?”

Belinda looked at him and began crying. “Have I done something wrong? Are you unhappy with me?”

Smiling at her, Harper shook his head. “No, Bel. You have made me very happy. I just wanted to know if releasing your arms would make you feel better.”

“No. I know it’s weird, but I would feel like I was failing you. Am I failing you? Am I?” There was desperation in her voice.

“No.”

“You aren’t just saying that?”

“No, Bel. You aren’t failing me. You are making me very happy.”

Satisfied, yet still somewhat doubtful, Belinda offered a thin smile. “How big are you going to make my tits?”

“I don’t know the size. But I don’t know the sizes. All I can tell you is they will be too large for your frame.”

Belinda looked down at her already large breasts and then at Harper. “Will that make you happy?”

" It will.”

“Good.”

Cocking his head, Harper asked, “Will it make you happy?”

“It will make me happy to please you.”

Harper had long known Belinda’s submissive side ran deep and extreme. So he was not entirely surprise by her answer. Still, it made him wonder if he had somehow underestimated her nature. Too, it made him wonder how far he could take her, and to what extremes. More importantly, he wondered how far he would want to take her and what might be possible. His mind reeled with anticipation, imagining her with larger breasts and fuller lips. But what else was there to be had?

Over the next week Harper had gone about installing a bidet in the bathroom for his slave. It was not right that she be unable to clean herself after using the toilet, and it was not feasible for him to take care of her toilet needs at all times considering how often he was in his shop out back. Belinda was quite grateful for the little device.

“I just want things to be as easy as they can be,” Harper told her after she thanked him. “Now, what sort of pads should I get you? I’m heading out to the store.”

Belinda smiled sadly and shook her head. “I had a hysterectomy, remember? No ovaries, no uterus, no anything.”

“Some women still get their period after,” Harper told her.

“Not me.”

He kissed her and headed to the store, happy he had made her his, wondering once again, what possibilities were in their future. Later, when he returned, she greeted him warmly, kissing him as passionately as ever.

And so, as tends to be the case, life took on a sort of routine. He would use her in the morning, make breakfast and tend to certain household necessities. After that, Harper frequently worked in his shop out back, while Belinda watched television and did her prescribed workouts to stay in shape. As evening fell, and after he returned to the house they would shower together, eat dinner and talk. Later he would make use of her another time. Though, to be sure, it was not always so, and there were frequent breaks in their routine.

Part 6

They had been together for nearly two months when Harper released her arms from their bondage. It was a surprise to Belinda when it occurred, but there was no surprise when he explained the reason for their release. It was nearing time for her breast enhancement.

“I can barely move my arms,” she said. They were in the bedroom and she was standing in front of the dresser at the foot of the bed. “I can’t get them from behind me.”

Harper noted the atrophy that had already taken place and surmised it would be much worse in future. He told her as much. Belinda’s response was a simple shrug.

“Can you lift your arms to the sides at all?”

Belinda shrugged and tried to lift them but it was little use. She could move them, but not enough to bring them forward. Consequently, Harper was forced to manipulate her arms so they were more usable. Still, they remained bent and all but useless. Only her fingers had their normal range of movement. Even so, she had lost much dexterity.

Harper’s fantasy regarding Belinda had been long in coming. As a result he had done much research even before he had forced slavery upon her. So it was a short matter of time before he selected a surgeon capable of performing the enhancement he wanted.

As he checked her arms, Harper said, “I figure you should be able to at least use your arms fairly soon. Probably within a couple weeks. Soon as that happens we’re going to see the doctor and get those breasts I want so much.”

“Why does it matter if I can use my arms?” Belinda asked, perplexed. “You’re just going to take them away again. Aren’t you?”

“So you can sign the forms.”

Belinda nodded. “Okay.”

“Then you’re okay with this?”

“No.”

“And yet you seem to be. How is it you’re taking things so well?”

“If I refused what would you do?”

Harper frowned. “Well, I would be quite disappointed, I guess.”

Nodding, Belinda sat on the bed. She looked up at him and shook her head. “Harp, I don’t want bigger breasts. They’re already too big for my size. I even thought of getting them reduced.”

“Then why aren’t you putting up some kind of resistance?”

“Because it won’t matter. Not in the long haul, it won’t.”

He sat beside her and gazed into the dresser’s mirror, noting her soft beauty. “Why do you say that?”

“I mean that I have decided not to fight. I’m stuck loving you. Worse, I’m stuck being unable to resist you.”

“That doesn’t explain your willingness to do what you really don’t want to do.”

“Harp, all those nights when we were just friends – all the times we fooled around – it was all I could do not to give you exactly what you wanted. No matter what you did or said. No matter what, I couldn’t resist you. I mean, you put a fucking beer bottle in my ass and I barely resisted.”

“Okay. I get that you can’t resist me. But this isn’t a beer bottle. This isn’t me fucking your ass, or making you drink pee. This is changing you physically.”

“I know. But I’m tired of fighting it,” Belinda said, sounding defeated.

“Are you saying I wore you down?”

“No, Harp. I just can’t fight it anymore. I’m fed up with the fighting. I’m happy with you. Even if I’m not happy with what you do, you make me happy. So, if you want me to have bigger breasts…” she shrugged, “…I guess I get bigger breasts.”

“You know I’ll take care of you?”

“I do. But I also know this isn’t the only change you’ll make. I know you have a sex-doll fetish.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I do. But how far can one go?”

Belinda shrugged. Then she smiled and asked, “How big?”

“How big what?”

“How big are my tits going to be?”

“Well, you know I don’t know breast sizes so I checked a few of your bras. They seem to be a consistent double ‘D’, though you have one a little smaller.”

“Okay.”

Continuing with his explanation, he said, “Anyhow, I told the doctor all your measurements. I assumed they hadn’t really changed, unless you’ve gotten shorter. I don’t know.”

“Just tell me. How big?”

“You don’t want it to be a surprise?”

“No.”

Harper grinned. “I’m going with an ‘F’ cup.”

Belinda gasped. A tear ran down her cheek as she looked down at her naked breasts. “I won’t be able to see my feet.”

“No. And they’ll be bigger than your head.”

Belinda let out a sad moan. “Please don’t. I know you want them big. But please go a little smaller. Please, Master.”

“I already decided. Nothing you can say will change my mind. Unless you want to be free again. Do you want to be free?”

Belinda slumped down to her knees. “I do, but I don’t.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Yes, Master,” she whispered.

Later that night, as they were sitting on the couch watching television, Belinda thought back to her days in high school, before she dropped out. She had been a volleyball player, slim and trim, though well-proportioned. At that time her breasts were a relatively small ‘C’ cup. Then she started filling out. It was not until her final year of high school that things changed.

Belinda had only just started her senior year when, at a party, she lost her virginity to her high school sweetheart. Three months later, and with her belly and breasts already growing, she dropped out of high school. By the time she was in her second trimester she had grown quite plump, her belly and breasts growing ridiculously. Then came the miscarriage that left her devastated.

Months later, having regained much of her former pep, Belinda decided it was time to go on a strict workout regimen. Fifty pounds overweight, and with her breasts a cumbersome ‘E’ cup, she wanted nothing more than to return her body to its previous shape. Largely successful, her breasts remained far too large for one her size and stature.

It was soon after that Belinda found employment with a local supermarket as a checker. Still living with her parents, she determined that she would save enough money to get a breast reduction. After that she would return to school and get her diploma. Sadly, her plans were dashed when her parents were struck by a drunk driver. They were killed at impact. Never, since, had she the finances to get the breast reduction she so desired.

As she sat and contemplated her fate, Belinda tried to imagine what she would look like with such large breasts as were planned. Having researched breast reduction at length, she well knew the various implants one could get. Would he want her to have big, round implants or the more natural looking teardrop shaped implant? Regardless, there was no way around the fact she would look ridiculous. She knew this from experience. But she was thinner now, having maintained a strict diet and workout routine for much of her life. Now, breasts that size would make her look freakish.
Belinda glanced at Harper, wanting to ask which implants he intended. Then she looked back at the screen, knowing it didn’t matter. She would be saddled with whatever he chose. No amount of pleading would change that. She would capitulate to his wants regardless of her own.

The two weeks passed relatively quickly. In the days before they were to leave, and with Belinda’s arms almost back to normal, she would often stand in the mirror and look at her breasts, cupping them as she wondered what Harper intended.

The day of her surgery arrived far too soon. She left the house with tears in her eyes, begging Harper to reconsider. He did not.

Part 7

A day after returning home from their sojourn, Belinda’s arms were returned to their previous bondage. She took this stoically, expecting no less. It was what she was told would happen. What she had not expected was Harper’s covering of all the mirrors in the house. Neither did she expect the special care he gave her, during her two month recovery period.

Belinda’s recovery went well. The initial swelling subsided within days and residual pain dissipated after only a week. Following that would be two months in her black surgical bra, after which, Harper promised, she would get to see all he had wrought.

To be sure, Belinda was frustrated. The bra was uncomfortable and, though the enormity of her new breasts was obvious, the covering of the mirrors had left her without the ability to truly understand the scope of their size or shape. Frustrating as it was, she was entirely unsure she wanted to see the results of her augmentation.

It was early on a Tuesday morning when she was finally able to see her new breasts. Harper had woken early and was sitting on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table, enjoying a cup of coffee when she entered the living room.

Upon Belinda’s entry, Harper looked up and smiled. “Good morning, love. How are you feeling?”

Belinda blinked, still somewhat groggy with sleep. She stood on her toes as she stretched. Suddenly she missed her arms.

“I’m fine, Master,” she said.

“Today is the day you get to see your new breasts,” he told her. “Are you excited?”

Looking down, she stared at the things jutting out before her. Encased in the black bra it was difficult for her to gauge their true size or shape. Even so they seemed embarrassingly large.

Belinda looked at Harper and frowned. “Not really. They look ridiculous already. But I do want to see what I look like. I need to know.”

“Did you enjoy the sponge baths?”

Belinda smiled and nodded. “It was nice being taken care of like that,” she told him. “I just wish it wasn’t for this. I wish you hadn’t blind folded me, too.”

“I wanted you to see them after they healed. Not before.”

“I didn’t. So what now?”

“Meet me in the bedroom. I need to get a pair of scissors to cut the straps of the bra so I can get it off you.”

She furrowed her brow, asking how he had bathed her without removing the bra.

“It has a clasp up front, silly girl. The scissors are for the shoulder straps. I can’t very well get it off with your arms bound.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” Belinda said. Then she turned and made her way to the bedroom, took a seat on the bed and waited.

Moments later Harper entered the bedroom and had her stand. Quickly, but carefully, he snipped the two shoulder straps while standing in front of her. Then he unclasped the front of the bra and stood back.

“Oh, my,” he said softly. “They’re beautiful.”

Harper made her stand and turn round. When she did so he removed the sticky paper from the closet mirror.

“Are you ready to see yourself?”

“Not really, Master. But, yes, I guess so.”

“Turn around, then.”

Belinda gasped when she turned. Tears flooded from her eyes as she took in her reflection. She looked at him and then back to her reflection. “What did you do?”

“I gave you the breasts I have always envisioned for you.”

Staring at her image, Belinda shook her head. Then, and with little inflection, she asked, “Why would you want this?”

Harper stood behind her and wrapped his arms round her tiny body, grasping her breasts and squeezing. “Because I do.”

“They look like beach balls.”

“That’s quite the exaggeration.”

With her tears drying, Belinda shrugged. “What did you do to me?” she whispered.
“I gave you beautiful, round breasts.”

Belinda shook her head. “They make you happy?”

“They do.”

“Okay.”

It was mid-afternoon the next day. Belinda was sitting on the couch staring at the black screen of the television, wondering what more Harper had in store for her.

She looked down at her breasts. They were big and round, and they met perfectly in the middle of her chest with no gap between. It was something she had failed to notice when first she saw them. She had also failed to notice the lack of a scar until just this morning after breakfast. When asked about it, Harper had told her the implants were done using a technique he called transaxilary.
“I’ve never heard of that,” she told him.

“He went through your armpit. The good thing is they allow future enlargements without surgery. All it takes is a simple injection into the tube. It’s still in there. That’s part of why I had him go through your arm pit.”

For a long time Belinda mulled over her current situation, what her future held, and how things had come to be as they were. Her arms, she knew, were likely gone forever. Her breasts, already oversized for her tiny frame were now grossly so. They were unnaturally round, as well.

Briefly, she wondered what it was about Harper that made her so susceptible to his dominance. After all, there was no possibility of her ever choosing to live the life she was currently living. Yet, all it took was a simple command and here she was, without use of her arms, and with ridiculously oversized breasts. She was, she thought, on her way to becoming a living sex-toy. It would soon become her identity if she were not careful. Her only hope for a real life was to ask for release. That, she well knew would disappoint Harper tremendously. The thought alone made her teary and sad.

Harper walked in just then, wearing his customary blue jeans and t-shirt, jarring Belinda from her thoughts. Smiling as he approached his naked slave, he told her how lovely she was and how much he was looking forward to enjoying her tonight. Her response was a sad smile. For she had only just determined to disappoint the man.

“We need to talk, Master,” she said.

Still smiling, Harper came to where she was, seating himself beside her and kissing her forehead. “What is it?”

“I don’t think we should do this,” she said. “I’ve been thinking a lot and I think we should go back to being friends.”

Harper frowned and asked the reason for her sudden change.

“I haven’t changed, Master. I never wanted to be a slave, never wanted to have my arms taken or my breasts enlarged.”

“And yet you gave no resistance to your enslavement,” he defended.

“That’s true. But I know I don’t want this,” she continued. “I don’t want these breasts, and I certainly don’t want any more changes.”

“So you are asking me to release you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You know, there is something very interesting about all this.”

Belinda cocked her head. “What’s interesting?”

“I never once told you to call me ‘Master,” he told her. “But you call me that anyway. You have been calling me that during this entire conversation. You’ve been calling me ‘Master’ since I enslaved you.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

Belinda stared at him for a long while, thinking back and taking note of all the times she had referred to him in that manner. He was correct, of course. She knew it even as he said it. Still, it was a shock to her.

“I guess it was just…I don’t know…”

“Natural?”

With tears welling up, Belinda frowned. “I don’t want to be a slave,” she iterated.

Without another word, Harper reached up to her hair, pulled it aside and released her arms from their bondage. “I can’t get the collar or the cuffs off. Not easily, anyway,” he said. “Meantime, you can think about what you want.”

“I know what I want.”

“You can start looking for a job again. If you haven’t found anything within the month I am going to start taking you in for hair removal.”

She stared at him in shock, angry that he seemed to have ignored her completely. “I told you I don’t want to be your slave!” she insisted.

“I know.”

Harper kissed her forehead, stood and departed the room.

For the next month, and as she regained full use of her arms, Belinda took to wearing shorts and one of Harper’s big t-shirts and nothing else. All the while she continued hunting for a job. Options were few, opportunities fewer; though there were a few phone interviews she gained little ground. She was, to be sure, quite frustrated and more than a little worried, wondering what she would do if she failed to find employment. Certainly she could succumb to Harper’s wants. But that, considering his fetishes, was beyond anything she wanted for her life. With that in mind, she trudged ever forward, gaining no ground. Worse, she felt a terrible and growing quilt at having let Harper down.

Harper, meanwhile, worked in his shop, going over the manner in which he would further restrict his erstwhile slave. Often he would seek out ideas on the internet. Much of what he found was deemed far too extreme. Nonetheless, he found those extremes intriguing, even after dismissing them as ridiculous. Then he stumbled across a magazine that specifically catered to strange and impossible fetishes.

At first he thought the magazine a parody or hoax. After further review he found he was not alone in his interests. Many people, he learned, had similar fetishes. Most importantly, he learned that there were people, doctors and small corporations, dedicated to executing those very fetishes, no matter how extreme.

Most of what he saw and read on the magazine’s website Harper deemed horrifying. But he was intrigued, as well. Then he took to wondering how Belinda would look as a sex-doll, her already thin waist reduced, breasts further enlarged, and with lips made perfect for cock sucking. No, such things were not for him. He loved her far too much to make such changes. It was best left to fantasy.

As the month Harper gave Belinda came to a close, they headed to a small clinic just outside Phoenix. They dressed casually, Harper in jeans and a t-shirt and Belinda similarly attired. The drive time of two hours gave the pair much time to talk. They did so. But in a manner they had not done in many weeks.

“So, my plan is to get the hair in your armpit and crotch completely removed,” he told her as they merged onto the two lane highway. “It’ll take about six visits to get it done. There could be some follow up if they don’t get everything.”

“I told you, Harper, I don’t want to be a slave,” Belinda repeated. “I just don’t. I really don’t understand why we’re going through with this.”

“And here you are going to get your hair removed,” he countered. “Don’t you think it’s odd you’re going through with this if you don’t want to be my slave?”

Frustrated, Belinda let out a sigh. “I told you before, Master, I can’t say no to you.”

“There you go with the ‘Master’ thing again. I think you are lying to me and yourself when you say that.”

“I’m not. I just – we just – started down that road and it’s hard to stop.”

He gave her a big grin and winked.

The majority of their conversation was light and friendly. They laughed and joked and she even gave him a blow job as they drove. When they arrived at the clinic the mood was as bright as ever. The ride home following her initial treatment was just as pleasant.

Over the following six weeks Belinda continued with her hair removal. Sex, though not as rough as Harper might prefer, was frequent enough to keep him satisfied, and though she detested his want for anal sex, she complained not a whit. Nor did she fail to serve him in any way he wished. She was, in all save name, his sex slave.

To Belinda’s increasing frustration, her job hunt was going nowhere fast. By the time her treatments ended she only a single on-sight interview. For that she had been forced to wear one of Harper’s dress shirts, none of her own blouses fitting her immensely large breasts.

Harper, meantime, had contacted those in charge of producing the odd magazine he had found on the internet, and was long in conversation with those he hoped might perform various changes to his once and future (he hoped) slave.

The rest of this story can be found at Fiction4Adults.com