The Bonding Ch. 05

Michael

If I'd known how this day was going to end, I would have stayed in bed. But ignorance, as they say... In any case, I awoke to Anya's sweet mouth on my cock. After shooting my morning lust over her beautiful face, I crawled out of bed as if this were just any ordinary day.

She held my cock as I pissed. She bathed me, shaved me, dressed me, then disappeared downstairs to make my breakfast. We worked through the morning, Anya on housework while I made business calls.

In the afternoon, Anya dressed as an Egyptian princess for me. She fought and begged for mercy while I, as a Roman soldier, brutally raped her. It was incredibly violent and satisfying. After the rape, I changed roles and became the pharaoh who, shamed by his only daughter, savagely beat and raped her again in front of his entire court. It was a fun afternoon, if a bit cliché.

That evening we went into town to watch football at Corey's Bar. I was dressed casually in jeans, t shirt and a light jacket.

Anya was dressed in a wispy lavender dress that ended just below her cunt lips. The slightest breeze would expose her matching sheer thong. Her feet were strapped in six inch lavender heels. Her long black hair sported streaks of lavender color. Her lips were painted lavender and her eyes were dusted with lavender glitter. She wore no bra, and the cold night air caused the thin dress to hang off her long nipples like pegs.

We entered the bar ten minutes before kickoff. I took a seat at a corner table, and Anya stood to the left of my chair. Several men had noticed us, and I nodded a greeting to those I knew while my hand very obviously caressed Anya's ass beneath her dress. She was there to be displayed and properly kept her eyes lowered and her hands passively at her sides.

I ordered a beer from a scowling waitress. At the bar a group of men, including Mr Collins and my neighbor Bobby were talking quietly and stealing glances at our table. Bobby was the one to approach.

"Hey, Mike," he said as he walked up.

"Bobby," I smiled. "How's it going?"

"Can't complain. Collins said you might be coming by tonight. He thought maybe you brought your wife along as... that's to say... We were wondering if you might be in a sharing frame of mind tonight."

"I don't know, Bob. This is a pretty public place and you're a married man. So are several of your friends, if I'm not mistaken. I'd hate to get you gentlemen in trouble at home."

"Well, there's a sort of VIP room in the back. Got some couches and a wide screen TV and everything. Just perfect for a private party. Collins has it all paid for, if you and the wife are interested in joining us."

I grinned. "That sounds like fun. Lead the way."

I stood and took Anya's hand. We followed Bobby through a door at the back of the bar. It was just as he'd said, three sofas and 4 stuffed chairs facing a large television, as well as several small tables that held pitchers of beer and bowls of chips.

I took a seat in one of the chairs and Anya knelt beside me. I played with her nipples through the thin material of the dress while several men from the bar filed in and took their seats around the room. There was a lot of talking and joking, and several men thanked me for bringing the "halftime show."

During the first commercial after the kickoff, Collins gave a little whistle and called out, "Hey puppy, come here, girl." Everyone laughed as Anya turned a pretty shade of deep rose and dropped to all fours. She crawled across the room to the old man who reached down to pat her on the head.

Suddenly he grabbed handfuls of her hair and pulled her face into his lap. "You be a good little bitch now," he said with a smile for his watching buddies.

Anya unfastened the old guy's fly and took out his flaccid dick. As she sucked it into her mouth he gave a low groan and then turn his attention back to the game. After that he completely ignored the girl servicing him. He drank beer, watched the game and chatted with the rest of us.

This went on for a good 10 or 15 minutes. Finally the man seated beside him on one of the sofas, Phil I think was his name, spoke up. Phil was in his early 70's, bald as an egg, and sporting the biggest ears I'd ever seen on a human being.

"Think you might finish there sometime tonight, buddy? If you can't seal the deal, pass her along, already."

"Take her, then. I'm savin up to shoot in that ass, later."

Phil pulled Anya over between his knees by her hair. He took out his cock, and roughly shoved her face down onto him. I could hear her choking over the sound of the TV.

"You always were an ass man," Phil laughed as he held Anya's face hard against his pubes, his cock choking her as she (apparently) struggled to pull back enough to breath. "Me, I'll take raping a little girl's throat any day."

I grinned. "I couldn't agree more," I said.

This sparked an extended debate on the merits of ass versus mouth. Of the seven men in the room, it came down to three and three with one guy, Harry, claiming he was all about pussy. Harry was in his early sixties, too skinny, but he still had all his hair.

"I mean it," Harry argued as Phil was shoving his cock in and out of Anya's face. Phil was being quite rough with her, and she was gagging and choking constantly.

"Sure Mike's wife seems to take a throat reaming pretty good, but most girls can't. Get too rough and you have to start worrying about teeth. Besides, I'll bet none of you guys have ever really slapped a girl around while you fucked her. I have. Can't do that very well with your cock in her face."

About that time Phil grunted and heaved his hips up as he pulled Anya down tight. He shot his load down her throat and shoved her away. She landed hard on her butt in the middle of the room. The men laughed.

She sat there a minute looking stunned. Her hair and make up were a mess. Tears streaked her face. She turned to me with a pleading expression. I smiled and stood, moving over to her. I grabbed her hair and stepped to the one empty sofa. Anya scurried on hands and knees to keep from having her hair pulled out. I pointed and she quickly scrambled up to lie on her back.

"Alright, Harry," I said as I jerked her panties, tearing them off her. "Show us what you mean."

The skinny old man was breathing hard and staring at Anya's exposed little cunt. "Okay. But she's your wife, man, I don't wanna mess up her face or anything."

"Try not to break any bones, but don't stress about it. There's more where she came from. Tonight's about us men having fun any way we want. Right guys?" I said. After all, these were all old men. I doubted they'd do any serious damage, and if they did, Anya would heal. Of course, we could also stop things any time I wanted.

"I think I can handle that," Harry grinned.

At that point, I was more amused that aroused, so he had to spit on her cunt a few times to get it nice and wet. He positioned himself between her spread legs, his left hand around her throat, his right guiding his 7 inch cock into her hole. As he buried himself inside my girl, he slapped her across the face.

He didn't hit as hard as I did, not even as hard as I suspected he could. He seemed to be aiming to degrade more than hurt, though it certainly did hurt her. He thrust into her cunt a couple more times, then backhanded her with his right hand, his left tightening around her throat.

Anya began to "struggle". She squirmed beneath the old man, and tugged ineffectually at his hand on her throat. It only made Harry fuck her harder. He started slapping her.. palm, backhand... palm, backhand... with each thrust of his cock.

Anya was sobbing and struggling for breath. "Michael!" she gasped hoarsely, "please, please."

"Anya, play nice," I chided. Several men laughed. Actually this WAS nice. She'd been told that I wanted her obedient, but not necessarily willing. I admit, I enjoyed showing off my control.

Anya gave a pathetic whimper and stopped fighting the old hand choking her. Rather than squirming, she began to thrust with Harry. She wrapped her legs around his skinny butt and fucked him back, still sobbing beautifully.

Not many girls manage to look pretty crying. As much as I love to see a girl cry, it does tend to make the skin blotchy, the eyes swollen and red, the nose runny. But Anya was as beautiful crying or screaming as she was laughing. Her skin glowed a dark rose color, and her large black eyes poured tears like the Milky Way strewn across a desert sky.

"Does she do everything you say?" Pete, a man I hadn't met until tonight, asked.

"She tries," I answered truthfully.

"Why?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Because if she doesn't, she gets hurt." I replied.

"Hurt worse than that?" he asked nodding to where Harry was still slapping and choking her.

"Oh, yeah."

"Does she want this, do you think?"

"Probably not, but I'm not sure," I shrugged.

Strangely enough, this was true. Emotions are a tangled mess most of the time, whether our own or otherwise. Even paying close attention to Anya's emotions at that moment, I couldn't say if she were enjoying herself at all or if this were utter torment for her.

I knew she was deeply, deeply ashamed. She was angry and disgusted. She was worried, probably still concerned about the younger Dean coming after us for killing his big brother. She was (very) distantly amused by Phil's elephantine ears. And yes, she feared the pain should she displease. Overriding everything though was a kind of white humming feeling that I associated with sexual arousal.

But that wasn't the whole story. Not even half. There were also her physical sensations. She was in pain, of course. Her face hurt, her throat burned terribly, and her pussy, already bruised from our rape play this afternoon, was being slammed quite brutally. She was thirsty and slightly hungry. And too, there were the physical aspects of her sexual arousal... the throbbing, wet heat in her swollen cunt, the aching in her nipples.

To add to the complexity, she was also responding constantly to my emotions and physical reactions. My sexual arousal increased her own, yes, but there was more. As always in sexual situations, I sensed from her a kind of crazed desperation that would only grow until I found release. It was the bonding, ensuring that my pleasure would always be paramount.

I doubted if even Anya knew whether she wanted any part of this or not.

"I wonder how long a sweet little thing like that would hang around if she could just say no," Pete smiled.

I grimaced. "I honestly wish I knew."

I know, I know. On a day steeped in cliches I should have been more careful.

Anya

After the skinny little man finished with me, another decided to demonstrate that it was also possible to beat a woman's face while fucking her ass. After that things went downhill fast.

The rest of the party was a blur. Several times I had more than one cock in me at a time, sometimes three at a time. At least once I had two in my pussy at the same time. I sucked and fucked every cock there except Michael's. I was choked and whipped. I had cum all over my body, my face, my hair. I had come myself more times than I would ever want to recall.

I only vaguely remember Michael wrapping me in a blanket and hustling me into the car. I don't remember anything of the drive home.

When we got inside the house, Michael looked at me and shook his head. "Get cleaned up. I'm ready to play."

"I should check the surveillance..." I started to protest, still quite dazed.

"Now, Anya." With that he turned and went up the stairs. .

The shower, cold as ever, did help to clear my head, though it did nothing for my aches and pains. My body was a mass of bruises, all of which would be gone by morning. But before I could heal, there would be Michael. The thought of him taking me in my current state was equally thrilling and terrifying.

When I stepped naked out of my tiny bathroom, there was a stranger standing there. He was young, handsome, Indian. He was on the floor with my hand at his throat almost before I'd registered his presence.

"I mean your master no harm."

Those words, spoken in my native Assamese, said this man knew more about me than anyone alive today should. I didn't move. The man didn't even blink.

"You have my attention," I said in English.

"I was taught that you were incredibly fast, and strong... but I would never have believed this. And your beauty!"

At least he had the decency to blush.

"You are quickly losing my attention. Should I become bored, you will die." I smiled. Strange how much more intimidating a threat becomes when coupled with a smile.

"You could kill me, knowing I pose no threat to your master?" He seemed shocked by the idea.

"Why not? I am more than a mere puppet, and I am under no direct orders to keep you alive. Also, I have only your word that you are not a threat."

He seemed to need to think this over. "It changes nothing. You will be redemed, whatever you have become, murderer or whore."

My hand tightened on his throat and he wisely quit talking. Slowly he held up his right hand. It was empty. Moving as if reaching out to touch a wild tiger, his hand slowly came to rest against my cheek. I frowned in confusion. And then the world exploded.

Michael

I was laid back on my bed, idly stroking my cock. Images of Anya being fucked by all of those dirty old men kept flashing through my mind. Their violence had been something of a surprise to me. For some reason it had me in a mood to be tender. I wanted to caress her face, touch her body, slowly make love to her while reminding her of all the naughty and painful things that had been done to her that evening.

I had just realized that she was taking too long when I felt a shock through the bond. Something had startled Anya, but she calmed immediately. She was puzzled, but still wary. I stood. Before I could reach for a robe, my brain seemed to burst into flame and my very soul was ripped away. For a moment I couldn't breath. Then I felt it. Nothing. Where Anya had lived inside my mind for over two hundred and thirty years... there was just... nothing.

I screamed her name as I ran to the stairs.

"ANYA!!"

I saw her, lying to the side of the stairway, naked. She looked dead. A man was hunched over her, his pants around his ankles. Was he raping her dead body? He looked up at me as I dashed down the stairs, his limp dick in his hand, stroking it furiously. It was the young man I'd seen beside the road yesterday afternoon.

I vaulted over the railing and kicked him off of Anya's body. His eyes were wide with fear, but he still seemed to be trying to stroke his cock to life. Before I could rip his dick off and shove it down his throat, I heard Anya moan.

I rushed to her, helping her as she sat up groggily. The young man finally stopped jerking his limp dick and pulled his pants up. I wished distantly that I had pants to pull up.

"You may not want to be so close to her, when she realizes what's happened," he spoke calmly.

"Why? What's happened?" I demanded, though of course I knew. I just couldn't face it yet.

Anya pushed away from me and stood. She seemed steady enough, but she was breathing hard. She was staring at the young man with an unreadable expression. I had no idea at all what she was feeling. Realizing that, I felt a jolt of true fear. I took a slow step back from her. She glanced at me and gave a little shrug, before turning back to the stranger.

"Her bond with you is broken. It was an abomination that should never have been." He spoke to me, his voice all bravado.

"It that why you were going to rape her while she was still out?" I asked. Anya's eyes widened then narrowed into a glare that made the man swallow hard. "You were going to take her for yourself, is that it?"

"Yes!" he spat at me. His voice became pleading when he turned to Anya. "You were created to serve my family. It is how I was able to break your bond to this... this DEFILER. Only one of my linage can sever the bond. You should have belonged to my ancestor. But we can still make it right. Come with me. Claim the destiny this thief took from you."

She continued to stare at him silently for the longest time. When she did speak she sounded... empty.

"Before I was created," Anya said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Before your magicians created me, I was born. I was a baby born to a mother, destined to live a mortal life with friends and family... children perhaps. THAT is what was stolen. Your family, your magicians stole my LIFE from me. They made me into a weapon and bound me into eternal slavery. Nothing can ever make that right."

Anya took a breath and spoke in a louder tone. Standing naked in the foyer of the house in which she had so recently been enslaved, she looked and sounded like a queen passing sentence.

"For the act of freeing me, whatever your motives, I thank you. But if you try to touch me, if I so much as set eyes on you after tonight, I will kill you. Even so, you stand as a trespasser in the home of a man who has lost much at your hands. You might wish to run."

She swept past me without at glance. I watched her climb the stairs and then I turned to the young man standing there stunned. Finally he turned to me with a look of arrogant disdain. I closed the distance between us before he had the good sense to heed Anya's warning. I snapped his neck and went upstairs to find some pants.

Instead I found Anya sitting naked on the floor beside my bed hugging her knees.

"I thought you'd be packing," I said, stupidly. Actually I'd thought she'd be waiting to kill me.

"I don't have anything to pack," she said softly. "Everything belongs to you."

I barked a laugh. "Don't kill me and you can take whatever you like."

She looked up at me with a puzzled frown. "I hadn't thought to kill you, Michael."

"That's good to hear."

"But don't... don't touch me, okay? Not just now."

"Alright."

I sat on the side of the bed, far enough from her to be reassuring. I hoped.

"So, what will you do?" I asked finally.

She gave a mirthless little 'hah!'. "Learn to make decisions, I suppose. Did you kill him?"

"Yes."

"Good. It felt wrong for me to do it, but I'm glad."

Again we sat a time in silence. Again I was the one to break it.

"I thought you were dead, Anya. When the bond broke, I thought it was because you had died. I saw him over your body... I thought that slimy little bastard had killed you and was raping your corpse."

She didn't say anything.

"I feel so empty," I said.

"I know," she said. "Me too. I'm tired. Good night, Michael."

She lay on her side on the floor and closed her eyes. Sighing I got dressed and went to downstairs to dispose of the man who's just destoyed my life.

Anya

My mind was numb, and I was exhausted. I fell asleep almost instantly. I awoke just before dawn. My first thought before even opening my eyes was "I am a free person." My second thought was that I still had no idea what to do about it.

A part of me, a very loud part to be honest, was almost giddy with joy. That part of me wanted to grab some clothes and the keys to the car Michael had bought for me and just ... drive. To leave and never look back. I had a viable identity. I could get a job or go to college. I could have friends. I couldn't have a lover of course, at least not a male lover, but I could live a real life.

But there was that other part. The part that was still reeling from a devastating loss. I had lived every moment with another person inside my mind for centuries. Now there was this horrible emptiness. I sat up on the floor and looked up at Michael asleep on his bed. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone from my mind, but he was still there. It wasn't enough, but it was something.