Descent Ch. 05: Slave Dreams

"You should just let me make you a slave, already," Damien's voice said from the phone lying on her bed. He was on his jet, flying to somewhere from somewhere. He was traveling a lot, she'd found out during the week since she first met him. Every day in some new place. Even though he owned the entire building, his penthouse here in the city was apparently one of the smaller apartments he used. His actual home base was some vast mansion on a tropical island. She didn't know exactly where, but she hoped he'd take her there someday. She could enjoy frolicking in the sun.

She'd been telling him about her week, blushingly confessing little things like who had fucked her and how. But also complaining that she wouldn't be able to succeed in school if she let any random male fuck her brains out at the drop of a hat. Damien clearly just found her situation entertaining. But to get those men out of her, he'd told her, there was an obvious solution.

"Being owned would protect you from the random solicitations if your owner didn't want you to be available," he continued. "Clearly this is the optimal way out of your dilemma," he teased. "Well, the one most lucrative for me, at least."

"But I don't want that," she pouted.

"Yes, you do," he countered. "Maybe even more than you want your degree. You and me both know it."

She stuck her pierced tongue out at the phone, shaking her head, almost wishing it was a video call so he could see it. But then he would also see that the conversation was making her touch herself. Maybe this was better. She pulled at her clit piercing, teasing herself gently as she thought of becoming property. She was getting better at holding herself at just that simmering level of arousal, without letting herself fall head-first into the pits that brought with it the de-voicing.

"Making slaves is your solution to everything, isn't it?" she complained. "As if you haven't gotten me in enough trouble already."

"Well, the triplets have no complaints," he said with a laugh. "They are happier now than they'd ever been."

"Oh, you finally got them?! Congratulations!" She didn't know what was appropriate to say about something like this. Congratulations seemed as reasonable as anything. And the triplets were super hot. She hoped this meant she'd get to share their bed again.

She kept teasing her nub.

"It's obviously exciting you," he pushed. "Fantasize about it. Try to get used to the thought. Even if you don't truly want it, I can still do it to you if you don't outright reject it. Next time I try to remake you, just relax and let it happen. Do it to make me happy! You could make me another fortune."

If she got herself enslaved, it sure wouldn't be to make him more money. As if he even needed more of it. She could just hear him grinning at the other end. He was such an ass at times, she thought, but she couldn't help but smile at it herself, too.

"Mmm, just lie back and think of England, is that it?" she teased.

Damien chuckled. "As if you wouldn't squirm and moan and do everything you could to encourage me, you playful little slut."

"Mhmm," she said, her face breaking into a secret smile, even though he couldn't see it. She could figure a few ways she would want him to enjoy her once she was a helpless slave. She thought about how he would make her give up absolutely everything of herself. How hard he could exercise her obedient body. How all of her would be his. She moaned. "And when will that even be?" she asked. "You can't remake me if you're across the country, chasing west coast beach bunnies."

"I'm flying in late tonight for fashion week. If you want, I'll send you a car, and you can spend the weekend. Perhaps be my arm candy for one of the shows?" He paused. "Presenting you to the model agents and the wealthy clientele that visits those events would be a good way to get the bidding started on you," he then added with a playful tone and a chuckle. "And maybe you can help me with my shopping - pick out a few models? Once they find out I'm a Maker, young, unestablished models tend to be easy plucking. They are so eager to look their best!"

Emma giggled. That actually sounded like a lot of fun.

Then she hesitated. She knew she was going to get herself deeper into trouble. She tugged at the clit piercing, pulling on the electronic ID tag he'd put on her.

It was as if she was an addict - unable to take in consequences, even if it was self-evident she was seeking something that wasn't good for her. Moving here, she'd promised herself she wouldn't be one of those small-town girls that let themselves get distracted by the shiny city's temptations at the cost of neglecting their studies. She would be better. She would be at her best! She would focus on her education. Now, look at her. She was well on her way to having to go home as a dropped out failure with her tail between her legs, begging for any minimal-wage waitress or store clerk job that she could get. Or worse, getting married for financial support.

Or enslaved.

Her finger slipped into her sex.

"OK!" she said. Eagerly. Stupid - she had homework to do.

"The car will be there in twenty minutes," he said. "It will wait for you as long as you need. Go down whenever you're ready."

"Yes, sir," she said, letting go of her tag. She bounced off the bed. Time to get ready.

"Think about what I said. Try to get used to the thought. See you tonight," she heard, and then a click as he hung up.

-

The ride up the glass elevator was very different during the daytime. The perfect, clear day let her see for miles, in the gaps between the other skyscrapers. This time she could actually pay attention to the brilliant view. Not being full of... distraction, like last time.

This time the door opened on the lowest floor of the penthouse. One of the dolled French maids were waiting for her. Another blonde. Hair tied back in a high, strict ponytail. The maid outfit surprisingly classy, but still super, super sexy. The proper look for a maid that would serve both at a cocktail party and then later in the bedroom.

Emma looked at the other blonde, and the blonde looked at her. They could have been sisters, based on looks. Damien did have a type, after all, she mused with a grin.

Emma suddenly wondered what Damien would make of her actual sister if he met her. Elle was so much younger than her... She couldn't decide if she wanted to facilitate such a meet, or if she should do what she could to avoid it. Emma's pussy twitched at the thought. Somehow, it felt inevitable that she'd eventually end up in bed with her sister, with Damien in control of both of them. Come to think of it, her mom was a blonde too.

The blonde maid winked. She saw the resemblance too. The doll made a welcoming gesture, indicating that Emma should feel free to go in, then hung back, seeing if she needed anything.

Emma hesitated for just a moment, felt somewhat like an intruder with Damien not there, but then walked in her heels to the huge lounge to the left.

The room's ceiling was high, the lounge cutting through the three floors that seemed to make up the penthouse apartment. Two entire walls were made of glass with thin steel supports. Meeting at the room's outer corner, they were transparent from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, three stories up. She could hear crackles from the big open fire behind her as she walked up to the enormous window, just soaking in the sunlight, enjoying that view.

She wondered how it would feel to be the property of a man that owned something like this. She thought she could enjoy being one of the pretty things he kept in his apartment.

The problem was that he would eventually sell her. She knew that. He hadn't been shy about telling her that. Almost gloating about it.

She was conflicted. He didn't explicitly try to trick her. He'd been open about things from the first time she'd met him. At the same time, he'd managed to do things to her that she'd never agreed to if she'd been focusing on long-term consequences, instead of how horny she was in the moment.

It was just so hot, she thought, her hand going down to her clit piercing, stroking it through the thin fabric of her short dress.

And complicated and untenable, she added to herself, thinking about her humiliating experiences in school this past week.

She really did want to get her degree. She knew she could do it now. It would feel like such a defeat if she gave it up, now that she knew that. She wanted to prove it to the world! Show her teachers, her parents and everyone else that had encouraged and supported her that they had been right. She could go as far.

Getting gloriously dominated and have hot, steamy, sex - or fulfill her parents' expectations. Why couldn't she do both?

She wandered deeper into the apartment. The entire lower floor seemed to be a guest area. The big lounge. Little seating areas. A big dining room with a table that could probably seat 50 people, and a sizeable, professional kitchen in the back. Guest suites.

Emma wondered what sort of parties Damien held here. If they were formal occasions - or big orgies. Had he ever brought a selection of his dolls here for big receptions with the powerful politicians and wealthy businessmen of the city? Used doll honey to oil the machinery of power to affect elections or votes in the parliament? Emma thought of being made to provide her lubrication for something like that. The current mayor was old, distinguished - and hot. A powerful man like that would probably be very dominant. He would put her through her paces.

She could see maids now and then, busying about, putting things in order for their Master's arrival later tonight. She felt like they tried to give her room to explore, staying just outside of the edge of her awareness, doing their work invisibly, even as she walked around and disturbed their plans.

She found the stairs to the second level, but there was a locked glass door preventing access, a keyfob reader placed low next to the door. Apparently, some places were off-limits. She was about to go back to the lounge, but then she touched the piercing in her clit and thought of something...

Bending her knees and spreading them apart, she pressed her sex against the keyfob reader, her piercing almost touching it through her dress. There was a beep, and the door clicked as it unlocked.

Emma giggled, pulled the door open and went upstairs. Well, that's one way to give a girl a key to your apartment. Her button opened doors now.

The second floor was still not the floor with the Master bedroom, she saw, but it was still a more private area. She explored aimlessly. A lot of open sections and half-secluded spaces towards the outside windows, with loungers and love seats. Lots of bedrooms intermixed in-between. Some had huge beds in them, some were cozy little sleeping areas where someone could retreat and just be private for a while.

It made her think of a harem - if the harem was designed by a modern architect that loved functional, minimal design. Then it occurred to her that it probably was a harem. Damien just kept most of his girls somewhere else at the moment. There were no concubines around, but the spotlight lighting, the little open fires here and there, the snug furniture still managed to make it all feel very homey and cozy.

Most doors were open. Some were closed and locked. Emma realized there was a little screen in the center of the keyfob readers. The readers next to the closed doors had girl names on them.

She guessed the closed doors led to rooms that were occupied by the maids and the rest of the live-in staff. She wondered if she would get one of these little rooms if she let Damien keep her. Or if he would just keep her chained to his bed.

Behind double glass doors, an area opened up next to the window walls, like a little café area. No, not a café, she realized, entering. Poolside. There was a long, infinity pool up against the outer glass wall. It stretched the entire length of the building, from one corner of the glass wall to the other. The room cut up through the level above, just like the lounge, and the ceiling was all glass. The sun shone in through the transparent roof and walls, warming up the air like in a greenhouse. The indoor palm trees, the sun chairs, the warm air - the feeling was almost tropical.

She just stood there looking. Damien had an Olympic length swimming pool in his apartment! She giggled at how outrageous that was, shaking her head as she kept exploring. The life of the wealthy, she thought to herself. No wonder Damien could consider not cashing in on the triplets. He had enough money for anything he wanted.

Near the pool, she found a gym. Next to it, a big room where one wall was all mirror. Two waist-height bars going around the walls. Aerobics and dancing classes, she thought. She'd spent so much time in a room just like this, in high school. Playfully, she lifted her leg and put it on top of the bar, arched her foot. She leaned forwards, stretching. She hadn't taken ballet classes for a few years now, but she'd kept up with the stretching. It was so easy now. With her improved body, she was as flexible as a ballerina, without all the work. It almost felt like cheating.

Then she found an enormous, walk-in closet. Or, she didn't know quite what to call it. The room was bigger than the gym and the dancing room combined. It was styled like a boutique. Row after row of hangers. What must have been thousands of dresses and other outfits. Elegant lighting. Full length mirrors everywhere. She walked through the aisles, pulling out dresses, holding them up against herself, feeling almost like she was out shopping.

She reached the cosplay section. She giggled to herself, browsing the naughty outfits. Anime garb, Disney princess gowns, superheroine outfits. In this place, every day could be a sexy costume party. She wondered if Damien had rooms like this in all his homes.

After cosplay, it was harem outfits. All kinds of colors, genie styled, traditional styles, slave girl styles. She bit her lip, looked around. No one was watching her. She pulled her dress over her head, dropped it to the floor and kicked off her heels. Started trying out harem silks. She found one she really liked. Red, not too transparent, bared waist. Gauzy curtains of silk front and back, hanging from a chain riding low around her waist. Hips completely exposed.

She used a red ribbon to put her long, straight hair in an extremely high, wrapped ponytail. The golden hair of her ponytail swished around her, behind her and to the side of her face as she moved her head. A good tail for a slave girl's master to pull, she thought with a giggle. The thought made her belly warm.

She found a gorgeous, golden day collar and matching cuffs for her ankles and wrists. No chains between the cuffs, but the discreet D-rings were there if someone wanted to chain her. There was a leash dangling from the collar. She let it hang down her back, partially hidden by her ponytail. The cold metal handle teased into the valley of her bare buttocks every time she moved.

Barefoot, dressed in a harem outfit, she walked on the balls of her feet over the floor, found the stairs to the third level, went up.

The top floor was the one she already knew. It felt even more private. Not meant for as many people as the one below, but still a bit harem-like. She knew there was another kitchen, smaller, intended for a family-sized group, not for a chef and his underlings. And a library, the reading area facing the glass wall with a spectacular view of the river.

She padded barefoot to the Master bedroom, stood there in the door, looking in. It didn't feel right to go in there without him. She picked one of the tiny alcoves instead. Just a little half-moon shaped bed, suitably sized for the little slave girl Emma, dressed in her red harem outfit, horny, waiting for her Master.

She put the handle to the leash next to her, like an invitation. Then she lay back on the silk pillows in the little alcove, opened her legs, and started playing with herself. Thinking of being a slave.