Angelica Enslaved

I experimented with the "Phase" control. As I slid it up, the reciprocal action of the dildos shifted until they were pounding together, which increased the intensity with which she was rocked back and forth in the chair. I liked the reciprocal action better, so I slid the control back the way it had been.

Angie was making rhythmic "mmpphh-mmpphh-mmpphh" noises behind the gag. It sounded as though the dildoes were starting to dive her toward orgasm. To help her out, I reached over the pussy-dildo and started rubbing her clit vigorously. The rhythmic noises blended into a drawn-out "MMMMMPPHHH!" and she arched her body off the chair as far as the dildoes would let her.

I shut the machine off again to let her recover and looked at Brandon. "You haven't worn out her holes, have you? I said I wanted her back in usable condition."

"Nope. There's a ton of high-quality silicon lube in there, and every so often I back the machine out to put in more."

"That machine is fun to watch, but it seems a shame to let it have all the action. My cock's been cold all week. I'd like to warm it up in that pussy since it's presented so invitingly."

"Easily done." The machine was attached to the chair by a couple of metal straps. Brandon opened two fasteners and rolled the machine back and to the side. The dildoes slid smoothly out of Angie's holes, and her pussy sighed closed immediately. Her asshole took longer, retaining a gape where it had been forced open for who knows how long. I ran my finger around inside both, and found them well-lubed with no obvious signs of damage.

"Excellent," I said as I dropped my pants and underwear. I moved between Angie's invitingly spread legs and slid two fingers into her vagina. My thumb found her clit and began rubbing it again. She made a contented "Mmmmmm" noise behind the gag, suggesting that she found my fingers a whole lot more pussy-friendly than a cold machine. I could feel some of her own pussy juice adding itself to the silicon lube.

I let the sensations gradually build in her body. Then I took my fingers out and transferred them to her still-gaped asshole. I slid my cock, now thoroughly erect, into her cunt where they'd been, feeling her warm, damp passage encircle my shaft in a firm embrace. I thrust slowly, then faster, simultaneously crooking and straightening my fingers in her rectum in the same rhythm. The steel gag obscured her facial expression, but she certainly sounded as though she was enjoying my cock a lot more than being drilled by a mechanical dildo.

Her rhythmic grunts culminated in another muffled orgasmic scream as her vagina clamped firmly on my cock and her asshole did the same on my fingers. I waited for her overstimulated body to relax, then resumed thrusting until my cock pulsed and shot my load into her. I eased my fingers and cock out of her body and lay panting, my head supported by her belly.

Once I had my shit back together, I wiped off my cock on a tissue and pulled my pants back up. "That was great, Brandon. Package her up for transport and I'll meet you in the living room."

I sat on the couch, this time without Angie draped over the arm, and checked stuff on my phone while I waited. In twenty minutes or so, Brandon appeared with Angie over his shoulder, trussed up similar to when she arrived, tied hand and foot with rope and with her mouth taped. One thing that was different was that, although she was naked from the waist down, she was wearing a pink T-shirt that clung tightly to her body and showed off her braless nipples. Also, the tape on her mouth was beige in a rough approximation of her skin colour. Since it was dark outside, she would be able to sit up in the passenger seat without anyone noticing that I was transporting a bound and gagged slave.

Brandon helpfully carried her out to my car and plopped her into the seat. I fastened her seat belt, the shoulder strap coming across her body between her breasts and holding the shirt even more tightly against them.

We drove home in silence - of course. I could tell that she wanted to talk to me really badly, but that would have to wait.

**

We rolled into the garage and I carried her into the house. I put her down in a living room chair, peeled the tape off her mouth, and helped her get rid of the washcloth that Brandon had stuffed in there.

"OK, you had something you wanted to ask me?"

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That? First you sold me to Brandon as a sex slave. Then after he'd fucked and beaten the shit out of me all week, you come and pick me up again."

"That's because I never really sold you. Brandon just rented you for the week. Those were real hundreds on the outside of the stacks, but the money between them was fake. He just paid six hundred for the week, not twenty thousand for life."

"You mean this whole thing was nothing but a sick practical joke? You absolute, fucking, ignorant asshole!" She struggled with the ropes as if she wanted to get her hands free and strangle me. I was glad I hadn't untied her yet.

"There was no joke involved. You've always had this fetish for being a real, non-consensual slave, so I thought I'd grant your wish for a while. I figured there were only two things that could happen. One is that you'd have the time of your life being a real slave again. The other is that you'd hate it enough to get this whole slave thing out of your system for good. From what Allyson's told me about Brandon, I thought maybe you'd find that slavery isn't quite such a great thing after all."

Angie stopped struggling and went thoughtful. I waited for her to contemplate, then prompted, "Well, which did it turn out to be?"

"That's a damned good question. At times, the feeling of being a slave was really intense. It seemed to amplify the sensations I got from being tied up and fucked, and knowing that I had absolutely no power or control gave me some of the best orgasms of my life.

"On the other hand, being Brandon's slave was nothing like being Theo's. With Theo, I just had to service clients for an hour and a half each day, and Jake was always standing by with his baseball bat to make sure they observed the "no damage" rule. Other than that, my time was more or less my own even if I couldn't leave.

"With Brandon, I never got out of that fucking dungeon. Sometimes I'd spend the entire night strapped into one or another of his dungeon devices - that chair and its damned machine wasn't the half of it. One night he strapped me over a bondage horse and let a whole parade of his friends spit-roast me for hours until I honestly thought I was going to die. I've never had that much cum forced down my throat in my life. They only stopped face-fucking me when I started throwing up, and that still didn't keep them out of my pussy and asshole. And you were right - he didn't stop at the edge of my pain tolerance like you do. Sometimes he went way over the top."

"So you're cured?"

"I'm not sure. Now that it's over, I may look back on this week with a certain fondness. It was fucking terrifying, but sometimes the terror was like you get at the top of a roller coaster just before you go over. But I know one thing." She shifted in the chair, trying to get a little less uncomfortable with her wrists still tied behind her back. "You certainly know how to give a girl a present she won't forget."