Clara's Story Pt. 03

My thanks go again to firmbutgentle for his help editing my story.

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As soundlessly as he could, Ian let himself into Clara's spacious cage as she slept peacefully beneath the blankets. He sat in his recliner and admired his conquest. He had never tried this before, pulling a slave in from another world. He had spent months preparing for her, setting everything into motion so he could be assured of a smooth transfer once he nabbed her. And now, she was his.

Of course, he could never allow anyone to know that she came from another world. Only a few people in his innermost circle knew the success of his mining operation depended on an off-world workforce who was all too happy to work for basic medical care. Do patents extend to other worlds? Ian thought not, so what he was doing was perfectly legit.

He did not want his government discovering his technology yet, though the potential resource of breedable females from other worlds might eventually warrant him revealing his hand to save his population. For now, he was content to have a fertile female of his own. His business partners would likely want one as well, and that would happen when the time was right.

WERT's information about Clara's progress displayed in his neural interface and the robot's report scrolled across his field of vision as if he was looking at a computer monitor. His little pet had cursed right after he left for the night, but he was pleased to learn that her behavior was otherwise decent. Ian had set her bedtime at 10:30 PM and she tried to convince WERT to not turn the TV off after she got engaged with a baking show on the Food Nation network, arguing that "Mr. Kline didn't need to know about it." But the report also indicated that she didn't put up any further argument when WERT turned the lights and TV off at 10:30 sharp.

He sat down on Clara's bed and watched his new pet sleeping peacefully. He considered the curvy, toned figure, ample breasts, and slender limbs that tapered off to nimble hands and small feet hidden beneath the blankets, shrouding her. Her ivory skin and full lips were delicate, unique and almost angelic.

"Good morning, my beautiful pet," Ian said to Clara as he gently stroked her red hair. She hadn't noticed him enter the cage or sit down on her bed, but her eyes opened when she felt his hand. She smiled at Ian with sparkling eyes for just a second before her face turned sour.

"Oh wait!" she said as her circumstances returned to her memory. "You kidnapped me!" She kneed him in the side.

"Oh, I bet you'd have preferred to smack my face, or punch me, instead of impotently kneeing me. But, pet, you were a bad girl yesterday and you lost the use of your hands."

Clara scowled at him and he smiled back.

"Jerk," she said.

WERT flashed red and Ian raised his hand. "Jerk is permitted," he said to the robot as he chuckled and rubbed his side. He returned his attention to Clara.

"I'm pleased with you for downgrading me from an asshole to jerk. Well done, pet." He pointed skyward and Clara watched the collar descend a few more inches. She rolled over in bed facing away from him.

"I was having a perfectly nice dream about you teasing me with promises of chastity and helping me with math. That's the Ian Kline I was falling for."

"Ahhh, but little pet, this is the Ian Kline you got. Oh, and I'll still be helping you with math. Clara-Jane had a completed degree in medical technology that I'll need to catch you up on. I'll also support a second degree in nursing if that's still your preference, but I can't have you running around being unfamiliar with your first degree."

"What is medical technology?"

"You'll be trained on this world's latest medical advances and you'll work with patients and doctors by reviewing charts and recommending treatments."

"That actually sounds really cool," she said. "What is my day going to look like?"

"First thing is first, we're going to go upstairs and get you a shower and an enema."

Clara didn't like things being shoved up her backside and an enema felt deeply personal. She didn't want to do it at all, and especially not with him watching. "What else are we doing today?"

"We'll have breakfast upstairs in my residence, and if you're good, I might let you sit on the patio for a bit. The weather is really nice. If you're really well behaved, I'll take you for a walk around the property."

"You're not afraid I'll try to run?" Clara asked.

"You'll be wearing a harness, pet. I won't be taking any chances with you until you're trained and collared. Even then, you'll be restricted for your own safety. I should advise you that my security team knows you're here reluctantly and that you're a flight risk."

"Oh good," Clara said sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to feel that I stole my freedom back from you by having slipped past untrained guards when I break free and run home."

Ian kissed her forehead. "You're not going home, pet."

"I am going home," she reaffirmed.

Ian just smiled and pulled the blanket down. He rolled her over onto her belly and slid her nighty up to her waist revealing her bruised backside. "Am I in trouble again?"

"I'm not going to spank you, if that's what you were worried about. But there is the matter of a language infraction. WERT reported that you had a choice comment to make last night after I left. We'll take care of that soon." Ian gently ran his hands across the globes of Clara's ass, assessing the bruising. "No more spankings until you're all healed," he declared. He released the chain that connected her wrists, and she rolled over, lifting her hips again when he told her to. Ian laid a network of straps beneath her, then clicked them closed around her waist as she settled her weight back onto the bed. Clara could feel the magnets on the two ends of the straps pulling together and she understood the technology that was likely at play. It was a perfect fit for her, just as the chastity cup had been, and it dawned on her in that moment that if his story of an alternate universe was true, then these items were likely made for Clara-Jane and explained why they fit so well. Two additional straps closed around her thighs and four more crossed her belly and ass connecting the thigh bands to the belt. She looked down to inspect herself when he was done connecting everything.

The harness was constructed of a flexible golden mesh so fine that one could mistake it at first glance for fabric. The straps were soft on the side against her skin, lined with some material she couldn't identify. The thigh bands joined to the waistband, preventing her from pulling up on the belt, while her generous hips prevented it from being pushed down. A mesh handle on the back along with some rings on either side gave Ian a firm, controlling grip on her body and an anchor to which he could apply chains or tethers. Why is this turning me on? she asked herself as she felt her pussy flood and throb with need.

Ian patted her thigh. "Go ahead and get yourself into your high-protocol position."

Clara groaned but she got out of bed, found the cushion, and knelt on the pillow. She separated her knees wide for him, giving him a nice view of the chastity cup that was attached to her pussy, and she gripped her elbows behind her back. She straightened her back and tipped her chin up to look at him.

Ian nodded in acknowledgement and produced the paper box with the soap in it. He lathered up the cake in the sink and held it out to her. "Open up."

"No please," Clara immediately begged, leaning back, away from the offered soap. "You said you were pleased with my efforts with language. Can't we skip this?"

"Absolutely not, pet. You'll get firm, consistent discipline from me across the board. You'll feel safer knowing what to expect from me. Now open up," he said, holding the bar of soap to her lips.

Clara looked down at the bar dripping bubbles from Ian's hand. She shook her head. "It'll make me sick."

"It won't make you sick. It's designed to go in your mouth and can even be swallowed. You're safe, pet. I wouldn't do anything to you that would harm you." He pushed the bar against her closed mouth and as soapy liquid reached the crack of her lips, she got a preview of what was to come. "Open up right now. This is your final warning."

"Please," Clara pleaded through clenched teeth. Ian just looked at her sternly and she finally opened her mouth. The bar was shoved in about three-quarters of the way and Clara immediately started gagging. The taste was truly horrible and tears welled up in her eyes. She was instructed to bite into it and close her lips around it.

"You have 15 minutes with the soap. Don't move your hands or otherwise attempt to remove it. Nod your head if you understand my expectations."

Clara nodded her head. Tears spilled down her cheeks and the sounds of gagging occasionally disrupted her silence. The bar of soap continued to bubble forcing suds to escape past her lips, drip down her chin and also slide down the back of her throat. She reached to wipe her face with her hand, but Ian reminded her that she was not permitted to move. She was forced to sit there, kneeling in her high protocol position with bubbles spilling from her mouth and dripping down to her breasts, soaking her nighty.

After what felt like an hour, Ian reached forward, gripping the bar. She readily released it and he disposed of the remnants. More than half the bar that was in her mouth had disintegrated into suds. "How do you feel?" Ian asked her, handing her a wet cloth.

She wiped herself. "That was horrible," she admitted. "What kind of sick, sadistic fuc-- person came up with that?"

Ian laughed. "In this culture, we readily use punishment to correct people. As you said, real soap is very unhealthy. Everything in punishment soap is edible. The experience is miserable, but you won't get sick."

"Can I rinse?" Clara asked, eying the sink in her water closet.

"Absolutely not."

Clara growled at Ian as he left her cage to get clothes from her dresser. Into a bag, he placed some lacy panties and a bra, a short, pleated skirt, a shirt that looked a little too childish for Clara's tastes, a pair of Mary Janes, thigh-high stockings, and some toiletries. Finally he added a baby blue plaid woolen poncho-style shawl.

"Do you like the outfit I selected for you?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I'm 25 years old. I'm an adult. That outfit looks too young for me."

"In this world, you're barely an adult. I told you that I was 32, but I'm actually 45. I will likely look this young through 70 or 80 years of age. You'll meet a lot of people who are much older than they appear by your standards. Our medical advancements are superior to those in your world. At 25 years old, you're practically a child."

"What is the legal age of consent here?" Clara asked.

She hadn't noticed it until he utilized it, but the nighty she wore had a slit in the back to allow for the handle of her harness to be pulled through. "20," Ian replied, as he ushered Clara out of her cage, gripping the handle on her harness tightly and keeping her close to his body. "For indentured servitude it's 23, and sexual slavery is 25." As they waited for the elevator, Clara tried to peer around the bend in the direction of the blue lights she'd seen yesterday, but all she could see were large hoses and wires, leading to what she did not know.

"I have security on my property 24 hours a day, as I told you earlier," he explained to her when they stepped onto the elevator. "My guards have been advised that you are adjusting to your period of slavery somewhat poorly and that you might attempt to run, or say something in an effort to convince them that you are being held illegally." He pulled Clara a little closer to him and spoke sternly to her. "If you put me in a position where I have to act, you can be assured that I will make an impressive display of control over you, both for the benefit of my security staff and also for you."

The elevator doors opened to reveal a glass-enclosed lobby with a view of the mountains in a region she recognized as West Virginia. With gentle guidance, he steered her out of the elevator.

Clara looked at him wide-eyed. "What is this place?" she asked, noting the empty area and unstaffed front desk. Outside, she could see a mostly vacant parking lot and the rising sun, which led her to surmise that the work day was several hours away.

"I run my mining business from here. These are the administrative offices," Ian said, showing her a set of glass doors before he directed her to a glassed-in walkway. "My private residence is this way." They stepped into a skybridge over a river. Ian let her stop to admire the water and the mountains in the background, covered with a patchwork quilt of autumn colors.

"It's beautiful!" she said. "This is your house?" Clara asked, looking at a one-story structure that appeared to be made of wood and stone.

He nudged her forward and they entered through a set of double doors into his home, decorated with natural finishings and modern furniture. The high ceiling was vaulted, made of warm, caramel-colored wood. Smoothed river rocks formed the hearth and chimney, and gray and brown flagstones covered the floors. A cream-colored sofa atop a rug of a darker color centered the great room, and the kitchen looked freshly remodeled with clean lines and hidden appliances. Floor to ceiling windows in the great room and kitchen brought in the picture-perfect mountains making the home simply spectacular.

"Home system, arm the alarm and set the temperature to 25 degrees in the northern bathroom," Ian ordered, with a wink to Clara. "That's 77 of your degrees. I want a warm pet fresh from the shower." A chime echoed and Clara noticed a discreet red light at the door and each window. Clearly, slipping out of the house would trigger the alarm.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said warmly as he guided her down a corridor to a tastefully decorated bedroom that housed a large bed and a fireplace. The ensuite brought the outside into the shower with an exterior glass wall that overlooked the forest. The same flagstone from the rest of the house carried into the bathroom and shower, and the walls were of smooth gray stone.

Clara noticed an enema bag was waiting for her along with some fluffy towels and a robe. "I know it's going to feel weird at first, but the weirdness will eventually give way to normalcy," Ian said. While she disrobed at his direction, he set down the canvas tote with her clothing and toiletries and filled the enema bag with warm water.

She stood before him wearing the harness and chastity cup, holding her hand over her breasts. Ian gently moved her limbs to her sides and told her to get down on all fours on a waterproof mat he had arranged for her. From behind he gently stroked her hip and the outside of her thigh like she was a prize horse. He released the bar buried between her cheeks and carefully removed the anal plug. He then disconnected the bar from the chastity cup, set it down, and got to work.

He dipped his left finger into a jar of petroleum jelly and spread lubricant on the nozzle of the enema tube. Standing behind her, out of view, he pressed against her rosebud and she tightened in protest.

"I'll be gentle, pet," he said, carefully invading her most private spot as her skin pinkened in humiliation.

"You need to relax, pet. Take a few deep breaths," he told her. With careful, seesawing motions, Ian inserted his finger in and out, going deeper each time. "I'm all the way in, pet. You're doing great." His finger was buried up to the knuckle in her ass and he moved it around, pumping it in and out and wiggling it from time to time.

"Even with the plug, you're still so tight, pet!" The nozzle to the enema went in next, sliding it easily into her now that he had loosened her up with his finger. Warm water flowed into her body and rushed to her belly as the bag emptied into her. She tensed up at the sensation and the invasiveness of the procedure, but there was no pain so she remained calm. Ian ran a hand up and down her back until the bag was empty and he removed the nozzle.

"You can lay on your side if you're more comfortable,' he said. "Hold the water for 10 minutes and then you can release it." She nodded her head and lowered herself to her side, laying on the mat. Any position was better than all fours.

After 10 minutes, Ian announced, "The toilet is over there." He gestured to a closed door. "Keep the door open."

"Keep the door open?" Clara asked in horror. "No! This is private!"

"Open," he repeated in a firm tone.

Clara rushed to the water closet and closed the door all but one inch. "All the way open!" she heard him holler at her. She ignored him and evacuated her bowels in semi-privacy. She flushed, and returned to face Ian.

Ian directed her to get back onto all fours on the mat. "Your directions were too difficult for you to follow as given. I'm going to assist you so you don't make the same mistake again." With a tool he had stored nearby, Ian popped the pins out of the door hinge and eased the door off. Clara was slack-jawed. She had not expected him to do that, but in hindsight, that was the exact move he'd make. He had literally kidnapped her, barred her from her own sex, soaped her mouth, and cuffed her hands behind her back because she grabbed the bars at dinner time. Why wouldn't he have responded to her small act of defiance like this?

He had her position herself to repeat the process, and explained that generally he would give her as many as it took to get her cleaned out and comfortable with the process.

"You haven't earned privacy, pet," he told her when she sat down on the toilet in full view to evacuate her bowels. Blushing from head to toe, she buried her face in her hands as she let the water flow out of herself into the toilet.

"I hate you, Ian!"

"That's, 'I hate you, Master!'"

"I hate you, Sir."

"If you truly hated me, pet, I don't think your nipples would be so hard."

She looked down at her breasts. Mortified, she covered the taut little rocks with her hands.

Ian turned on the water in the shower and when Clara finished on the toilet, she padded on bare feet across the heated stone floor and under the already hot water. The spacious shower was warm despite of its size thanks to steam vents that made the corners as toasty as the center where the water focused.

Ian turned on a second shower head and joined her under the waterfall. She jumped a little when she felt his hands wrap around her midsection, but there was probably no point in playing coy at this point. She'd slept with him, sucked him off, and he'd seen every last inch of her body. Besides, she wasn't actually afraid of Ian; she was just pissed at him and she wanted very much for him to admit his alternate universe story was a lie and let her go home.

Her thoughts were effectively distracted when Ian smoothed his lathered, masculine hands over her body, rubbing them in circles over her belly and then under and over her breasts. She sucked in her breath as his hands teased her nipples and thumbed them into further hardness. He soaped her shoulders and arms and neck before running his hands firmly over her hips, legs and finally her feet, working around the harness that he hadn't released.

"I'll clean under your cup last," he said. "For now, it's your turn, pet. Wash your Master."

Wash my Sir, she corrected in her mind, oblivious to the concession she'd just made. He did not provide washcloths, so she worked the lather into her hands, realizing he intended them to have their hands all over each other. I see what you did there, she thought as she placed her soapy palms on Ian's muscular chest. He was so warm and hard, she thought to herself, as she rubbed her hands across his taut skin. She exhaled, admiring his form. He knew from the look in her eyes that she was at the very least attracted to him.