Aberrant Futures Ch. 02

Dark cherry wood bookshelves and cabinets bordered the ceiling, and a dome light glowed golden above me from an old fashioned filament bulb. Next to my ear and plugged into my collar, the Professor's devices whirred and chirped. I imagined how I must look laying on his desk in the middle of the study. McVoy moved around above my head taking readings and checking wires.

"Tell me immediately if you see or feel anything strange," he said. I took a deep breath, and the collar crackled to life. "Breath," said McVoy putting one bear-like hand on my stomach, "You're alright, breath." I felt my heartbeat in my ears and tried to relax. McVoy's hand weighed down on me as I exhaled. The collar was cool, metallic, and tense with charge. It was cruel, I thought, for collars to take away our autonomy as though we were dolls, but let us keep thinking and feeling like girls.

I had imagined him stripping me at this point and taking me bent over his desk, or unzipping his pants for me to suck his cock where I lay. Instead he pulled out a clipboard and with a long checklist. Each scratch of the pencil marked the beginning of a new input into my collar. First he tested his control of my muscles. My hands clenched, then my arms. And from there, as though I were a marionette, muscles twitched in my torso, neck, legs, and feet. I put my hand to my lower belly when muscles deep inside flexed that I didn't even know I had.

The exercises became stranger and more difficult to understand as he continued. In one, my chest flushed so hot it was warm to touch. For another, a tingly sensation bounced from between my legs to my neck and back until I couldn't help giggling. In quick succession, I was overwhelmed with feelings that made me laugh, squirm, and gasp.

He reached the end of his list with the same clinical detachment with which he began. McVoy said, "Thank you, Claire. You've done very well." and held out his hand to help me stand.

I realized my wiggling had bunched my skirt up above my tummy exposing my tan legs (which I was proud of) and colorful Ms Kitty panties (which I was embarrassed by), and pulled it down again. I was unsteady on my feet even with my hand on his.

The stream through the glass, the big desk, and the professor looked the same as when I lay down. But I felt the weight of my collar now and wondered what my friends were doing. Or what was being done to them.

Still supporting my hand, he said, "Today you are free to relax and explore. There are beds upstairs if you need to rest, but please the room on the left, not right..." I tried to listen attentively but I was distracted, and his list of instructions faded into a buzz at the back of my mind. His forearm mesmerized me. He had rolled up his sleeves while working on me, and the muscles and tendons flexed while I wobbled. I wondered if he would finger me and checked his fingernails, they were clean and carefully manicured.

"Claire!" said the professor, "Earth to Claire?"

"Sorry, Professor," I said wondering what was wrong with me, "What was that? I'm still a little woozy."

"I said," he said, "You will experience heightened arousal due to your increased fertility, but I forbid you from playing with yourself--you may ask to climax after servicing me." I felt the blush of embarrassment and indignation spreading across my face and looked down at his loafers.

"I didn't know you could make me more fertile with my collar," I said unable to meet his eyes.

"I've already told you that the collar is just a trifle to me," he said irritably, "I've made a few alteration to you with the machines at my desk, but that's the only one you need to know about." He switched topics, "In an hour or so, come find me and we can talk about the rest of the rules. For now, I have a call to make. You may have anything in the kitchen for lunch," And he released my hand. I fetched my phone out of my bag still feeling unsteady. He undressed me with his eyes as I left and I wondered why he didn't just make me strip.

I sat in the kitchen where I had eaten breakfast and thought I might cry from emotional exhaustion, but hunger won out and I began to poke around. There were two cupboards, one entirely for wine; an actual breadbox with an fresh loaf still warm from baking; a wicker basket of lettuce and deep red tomatoes--I thought he must have a garden; and so on. The refrigerator hummed and gleamed and was spotlessly clean inside and out. It was also packed with every kind of delicious food and my stomach rumbled while I decided what to eat. I remembered my own grungy mini-fridge at home, full of frozen dinners, and made myself a double decker roast beef with a side of strawberries.

The sandwich was fresh and delicious. I felt better after a few bites sitting by myself in the quiet kitchen. Steeling myself for what I might see, I unlocked my phone. Mostly the texts were from opening vacations, goofy selfies showing off clunky collars. I let my mom know very vaguely I'd been captured, and she said she'd miss seeing me and not to worry about the trip. Several of my friends were silent on text, and I didn't know if they were occupied or just didn't want to talk. I didn't hear anything from Ally until one of her backstabbing sorority sisters sent me a video accompanied by weeping emoticons. Crocodile tears, I thought. In front of a banner that read "Kappa Delta Welcomes Sluts," Ally sat in the lap of a giant jock on a dilapidated couch, his dick in her ass. She leaned forward to suck another bro in front of her and I thought I recognized him to be Eric, someone we both despised. My phone was on silent mode, but I could read her lips as she gagged, swallowed, and he pulled out of her. "Oh, fuck, please more!" she begged with desperate eyes. I closed the window

While watching Ally, I had begun to grind absentmindedly against the corner of my chair. I realized what I was doing as soon as the video ended and stopped mrself disgusted at my reaction to her predicament. But I couldn't get the thought of her womb being filled over and over out of my head. I didn't trust myself to sit on the hard kitchen chairs, so I put my dishes in the sink and left to explore.

My best, oldest strategy for distracting myself was reading, so I went where there were books. The library extended above me into the second story so that you had to climb a ladder on wheels to reach the walkway at the next level. The books were mostly in Old American. With the gravely voice of McVoy droning faintly from his study next door, I pursued the spines of ancient volumes--"Treasure Island," "Pale Fire," "Dune," and then, my heart leapt in my mouth, an entire shelf of Emily Dickinson. But the glass cases didn't open. They were vacuum sealed so I couldn't even smell them by putting my nose to the shelves.

The only free books were piled on a worn mahogany desk in the corner along with a kit of small tools and bottles of viscous substances. I thought maybe McVoy repaired old books, and I pictured him hunched over carefully spreading open the leather cover of a priceless volume. In response, my increasingly perverse imagination conjured up an image of the Professor delicately and precisely spreading open my vulva with a speculum. The kitties on my panties were at risk of getting wet, and I dragged my thoughts back to reading. I sat down and picked up the nearest book. It creaked when I opened it, The pages smelled old, and I began reading from the middle.--

"While I had been immobilized, the preppy, charming crowd had degenerated. They were civilized enough not to abandon the seating plan or strip naked, but every pair had their hands under buttons and zippers. Shirts hung open over bare tits and cocks protruded from slacks.

"Hillary's romper hung down from her waist, exposing small breasts and svelte waist that reminded me of a cello's curve. She had Alex's cock out of his pants and sat with her head in his lap as though ready to kiss it. But he was controlling her head by a handful of blond curls so that she could only touch it with her hands. If it were me, I thought, I wouldn't have found the will to stop her.

"Bound and gagged, I could only try to communicate my willingness to Alex with my eyes. I saw the lust in his face for me and I felt myself pulse inside in anticipation. Sandra ran her fingers over my bare back and thighs. Then her fingers slipped in and out of my sex while we watched Hillary stroke Alex.

"When a drip of precum formed on Alex's penis, Sandra tapped him on the shoulder with the switch. He stood, forcing Hillary to release him. Sandra took his seat and guided Hillary up onto her lap. Hillary sat facing forward and met my eyes. Sandra slid her fingers down Hillary's stomach into her romper. To me, Sandra seemed to stroke her like a musician playing an instrument. Hillary leaned her head back onto Sandra's shoulder and whimpered, her blue eyes watching me.

"But then I couldn't see her because Alex stood in front of me. After Sandra's foreplay, I wanted to inhaled him. But instead, he placed the tip of his cock in the edge of the ring at my mouth and held it there. I tasted the salty bitterness of his head and strained to look up at his face."

From the doorway, McVoy coughed and I froze, "I want to be clear, the whipping is not for touching the books," he said.

While absorbed by the story, I had thoughtlessly slipped my hands between my legs and played with my clit through my dress. My fingers were sticky, and I suspected I would leave a wet spot on the seat as well. McVoy, seeing my embarrassment and distress smiled to himself, and I hated him a little for my helplessness. I saw my future in his face. He would care for me like he did his cat, plants, and books; he would keep me healthy, safe, and available for his enjoyment--wet and ready to be impregnated. The kitties on my panties were drowning, and I didn't know if I could stand up.

Seeing my distress, he said, "When you've composed yourself, I will be in the living room," and he left me. I put down the novel and stood up on wobbly legs. I wanted to lean against the old desk with the corner pressing up between my legs. I even paused for a moment inches away, but didn't dare. My dress was wet where I had pushed it into my folds and there was a conspicuous dark spot on the wood chair where I had sat. I mopped at it with my hem, noticed the brown stain that made on my dress, realized I wasn't thinking clearly, and took a deep breath. Shaking with anxiety and arousal, I left for the study.

It was empty when I got there, I remembered what he had said, and walked back down the hall until I saw the fireplace. He was waiting for me on a big black couch with beautiful leather cushions. The McVoy from the portrait looked down at us solemnly, and the real McVoy gestured with a riding crop for me to stand in front of him. In a quick distracted glance around the room, I saw coffee tables stacked with books, vases with fresh flowers, and pretty objects and baubles arranged artfully on every available surface. The calico was there watching McVoy and I from beside the fireplace.

I stood between his knees and he put his hands on my bare thighs just under the dress, He was nearly as tall as me sitting down. "Look at me," he said and I made myself look up from the floor and meet his ice blue eyes. "My father was a rancher, and he used this same crop to break horses. I'm going to hurt you now just enough so you know who's in charge. Come lay face down over my knees on the couch."

I was shaking under his touch and begun to explain myself, "I'm so sorry, I didn't..." But he guided me with his hands while I spoke, and I gave up mid sentence. The leather was soft against my arms and legs. He put one hand in a fist around the riding crop on my back and his knuckles dug into my skin and held me still. The other hand he placed open handed on my rear. He paused like that running his big hand over my ass and I felt his erection grow against my stomach. I couldn't stop my hips from pushing back onto his cock and then back into his hand. "Rutting," I thought in a haze, "I'm rutting."

He slid his hand down below the hem of my skirt so it rested against the bare back of my knee and then up again under my skirt tracing the muscles of my inner leg with his fingers. He moved slowly and deliberately and I felt like he was conquering me inch by inch. I imagined how soft my young skin was to his rough hands. When he reached my ass, he let his thumb follow the dip between my legs until the top of my v was sandwiched between his hand and thigh. My clit throbbed at the center. I opened my mouth against the couch and moaned as desperately as Ally had, and I pressed my lips and tongue into the leather wishing it were a cock.

"Five swats," said McVoy, "Every time you miss a count, we will start over." But I was too distracted to process what he said and was unprepared for the searing crack on my ass. The pain layered itself over the haze of my arousal so that even as I reached back with my hands to protect myself, I was thrusting backwards with my pussy into the swing of the riding crop. After that he held my arms against my back with one massive hand, his burly strength hardly needed a collar to control me, and brought the crop down two more times before I started counting. Smack! went the crop and "One!" I replied in a half sob half moan that was all desperation. By the time he reached five I was a runny mess of tears, snot, and lubrication. I couldn't believe the sharp stripes of pain on my thighs and ass, and I couldnt believe I hadn't come. I felt the pressure of an orgasm inside me like a balloon stretched tight over too much water, but no matter how much poured in, I couldn't burst. I thought I might go crazy.

McVoy ran his hands over my panties, thighs and lower back avoiding the cleft between my legs, and I whimpered into the couch on the edge of consciousness.

"Not yet," he said, "I'll let you earn release so you can sleep, but I'm not going to impregnate you until I break you."

I didn't know what he was talking about, "Please, sir," I begged. But I couldn't think clearly enough to articulate my distress and begged again, "Please!" His cock was hot against my tummy and I would have done anything to impale myself on it.

McVoy's voice, controlled and deep, commanded, "Kneel between my legs" and I felt him guide me with gentle pressure from the riding crop. I followed his direction, my dress falling back into place, until I was looking up at him, the bulge of his cock pressing against his pants leg level with my chin. He used the crop to push my straps down over my shoulders and then to ease my dress down over my breasts. He paused to look at me, my mouth parted, chest heaving, and cheeks wet with tears and flushed with arousal. I was topless and my arms, if not exactly bound, were hindered by the straps of my top. He put the leather riding crop against my lips, and I opened them obediently to suck on it.

While he watched, McVoy unstrapoed his belt, undid his pants, and eased out his cock. He was neatly trimmed and circumcised and I leaned forwards to kiss his head, but he stopped me with firm pressure from the riding crop.

"I'll teach you how to please me," he said, "and all the other things you'll need to do. For tonight, I want to feel your inexperienced mouth. But you must ask politely."

"Please sir," I was begging not asking. "Please come indide my mouth."

"Yes," he said, "and I put my mouth to the top of his head and kissed it. A drop of precum stuck to my lips and I licked it off tasting it's salt and bitterness. I had seen videos of how captured girls gave blowjobs, and I imitated them as best I could, opening my jaw wide to let him in. I pushed myself onto him, but I was only able to take half of him at a time without gagging. I couldn't reach up with my hands to wipe the drool from my mouth and it ran down my chin.

I realized with pride that McVoy was moving his hips to thrust into my mouth, and when I looked up at his face, his eyes were glazed with arousal. I felt like the mouse from the fairy tale playing with the lion, and my womb responded to his enjoyment by with pulses of pleasure. I felt his cock throb in my mouth and he, carefully but firmly, held my face between his hands so I had take him. Just as he began to throb, he gave me permission for my own release.

When I tasted his cum, the muscles between my leg shook and the tremor traveled up my thighs and into me. My pussy clenched, I heard my self say "oh fuck!" around his cock, and my stomach quivered with the intensity of the orgasm. My vision went hazy red and white as waves of pleasure crested over my consciousness until I was on the edge of fainting. Between my legs, I felt my panties soak and the liquid continue to flow until I was dripping down my legs onto the floor. I couldn't swallow fast enough, and a little of McVoy's cum dribbled out onto my cheek. With one hand he held himself in my mouth until after he went soft, and he stroked my hair with his other. I remained obediently kneeling with my lips around his cock waiting for his next instructions. I felt blissfully relaxed, but also a small trickle of arousal began to fill me again.