Generous Natures Pt. 03

"Yes."

"Open it."

She pictured herself leaning down, bending at the waist of course, like he taught her to, and lifting the door with a loud clang. "It's open, Master."

"Good. It's dark in there, isn't it? So dark. The doubt is a solid thing, infecting the walls. Like a thick, monstrous black goo." He clasped his hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to take a match, Jasmine, and I'm going to set it all on fire. You'll feel the warmth and find it so comforting to know that it's all turning to ash. Can you feel it, Jasmine?"

"Yes." The Devon in her mind lit the match, and threw it onto the goo. She knew it was literally all in her head, but it really did feel like she was standing just a few feet away from a warm fire.

"It's all gone now, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. There's a key on the floor, among the ash. You have to give it to me, Jasmine. I can't take it from you. Lean down, pick it up, and hold it tightly in your hand."

She bent over again, and swore she could feel her fingers brush against the ash and concrete, and the cold metal of the key in her hand. She held it in her left fist, which was tight on the table.

"Do you have it?" he asked.

"Yes."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "When you open your hand, Jasmine, I will take it, and this will be yet another part of you that will be under my control. And what I'm going to do is lock this room shut. It will never be opened again. You will never be able to access it again. What this means is that doubt will be another emotion you can no longer access. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Open your hand."

She did. His hand brushed against her palm as he took the imaginary key, and she relaxed in her chair. Her mind manifested the sound of the door closing again, the lock clicking shut, and the image of her Master putting the key into his pocket. Out of her sight, and officially out of her mind.

"Good girl, my love," he said, thick and honeyed. "My sweet, submissive pet." He kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulder. She was so wet and horny, but she was a good girl in her trance and she lacked the capacity to do anything about it, which only made her wetter and hornier.

She'd worried, at some point when she still could, when he told her she would always be horny once she was his, that it would get dull or boring. But she knew now that it wouldn't. That would be like getting tired of eating, and the horniness she experienced now was just as full of variety as her meals. There were moments of quiet, blissful humming, and moments so intense she thought her heart would stop.

His hand slipped between her legs, and she knew he could immediately tell how aroused she was. He laughed. "Even in your little cunt, you're a perfect, obedient slut. You love knowing you have no control over yourself, don't you? You love knowing that your every thought, every desire, every movement, is mine to determine."

"Yes." She quivered in the chair. She'd wished, at first, that it was more comfortable, but now she saw the wisdom in using a fiberglass chair that was easy to clean. Her pussy juice was leaking all over.

"You've been such a good girl today, letting me and my friends break you in. You've cum for us so many times, let us use your slut holes so thoroughly. Is it difficult, being my sex slave?" His mirth was so palpable that she smiled too.

"No, Master."

"How is it then, slut?" His tongue dragged along her cheek as he spoke the final word.

"It's so easy. It's so easy, Master. It's so wonderful." She wished he would allow her to look at him, to move so she could fully express her gratitude.

He danced his fingers idly along her soaked, bare sex. "I'm so glad you're mine, Jasmine. I'm so glad that you're happy. I will never let you go. I will never let you doubt what you are again. From now on, you will wake up every morning, live every second of your life, knowing exactly what you are. Mine."

She sighed with pure happiness. If he ever changed his mind and wanted to play with her, wanted to make her forget again just to tease her, to make her submit to him again and again, that would be fine too. She wouldn't hold him to this promise, but just the fact that he was making it let her know how secure she was in his hands, no matter how he wanted to use her.

"And I'm going to reward you, Jasmine. I'm not going to punish you. You've shown me your total commitment to your enslavement, and I know that I can trust you. You've been so obedient and submissive. When are you allowed to cum?"

"When you or the ones you lend me to cum first," she recited.

"Good. And if we tell you not to?"

"Then I won't."

"What a good girl. So very good." He pressed one finger against her slit. "Tonight, Jasmine, you're going to cum for me one more time, here in this room. You won't pleasure me. You won't need to do anything for me. You simply need to stay in your trance, and let me play with your beautiful little clit until you climax."

She nodded, to show that she understood. "Thank you, Master."

"You've more than earned it. Just as you earned that cake after you took care of Tasha. Think of this as a second dessert." Finally, he stuck his fingers into her ready, sopping slut cunt. "Do you like that, Jasmine?

"Yes," she trilled.

"Relax, darling," he crooned, hot butter in her ear. "Relax your entire body. Listen to my voice. Feel me inside of you. Fall deeper into your trance and let it enhance your pleasure. Down...down...down. We're well past the storage facility that represents your mind. We're well past any physical location. All that exists now is a comforting darkness, like a silk blanket on a thick bed, surrounding you and keeping you floating in space."

His fingers found and circled her clit, and she thought she might collapse onto the table. She twitched in her restraints, and he laughed. "Ah, but you feel those, don't you? Those leather cuffs, those symbols of my ownership of you. Even in black nothingness, they are there, restricting your movements, reminding you that you are owned. That at the end of the day, at the end of this day especially, you are nothing more than a plaything. You have no ambition, no free will, no ability to control any aspect of your life."

Her lips were dry and she couldn't press them together to try to remoisturize them. Her breathing was shallow as her abdomen tensed with the rising pleasure. "Little by little, day after day," her Master went on, "you will forget what it was like to be free. You will know that you were, once, that there was a time when you didn't know me, when I did not control you, but that period of your life will seem like a formless black void, even darker and more impenetrable than the one you're in now, with no warmth or comfort when you think of it. Very quickly, every time, your mind will gloss over that former reality, and return you to your current, permanent one. Where all your needs are met, and where nothing is expected of you except your complete and total submission. You are comfortable there, and always happy."

She let out a blissful, involuntary sigh. She didn't feel the stiffness of the chair or the table. She didn't feel anything except for the cuffs and her Master's hand in her cunt and on her clit.

"You are so relaxed, Jasmine. Even with that tension in your gut of your rising orgasm, you are so very relaxed. Because you know there's no need to be stressed anymore. I've taken it all away. All your worries, your responsibilities, your doubts, and your inhibitions. You'll never have to deal with any of it again." Something shifted, and then there was something else on her clit. Something small and hard that vibrated. She couldn't help but gasp, almost losing her perfect slave composure. "Isn't that so marvelous, Jasmine?"

"Yes..." she huffed, "...Sir."

"This is what you were meant for," he said, heavy with authority. "To be a toy. An object, that exists to be used and owned. A living fuckdoll that will take it in any of your slut holes. And only when you have been as good and used as much as you have been today will you be rewarded like this, and that doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

"No," she said. "No...no, Master, no."

"No, that's right, Jasmine. It doesn't bother you. Because you don't belong to yourself. You're not a person anymore. A person has rights and autonomy, the ability to create their own destiny, at least to dream about their own destiny, and you do not." She moaned. Her lower abdomen was tied into a knot. "So to be rewarded at my discretion only, to have me make that decision instead of you, that makes you happiest of all." His lips brushed the shell of her ear. "But an orgasm certainly makes you happy too. Like the one you're going to have...right now."

The universe exploded.

She'd cum so many times that day, many little deaths in service of those who used her. Her owner and his friends who'd been given the right to play with her. That alone would have been enough to make her feel fulfilled. But now, especially after she'd thought she was in for a punishment, now her wonderful, generous Master was giving her pleasure with no expectation of anything from her. And that made the climax feel like something otherworldly, something that had shot up with a blast of fire and hydrogen from a launch platform. Something that had been the culmination of years of work.

In a way, it was. In a way, she knew, seeing her so blissful and turned on by her own submission was a reward for her owner and all he had done to condition her.

She could do so little to displease him, and that gave her another jolt as the fire within her began to smolder out. She jerked in the chair again. Her Master withdrew the vibrator and put his arms around her, stroking her sides, whispering calming words to her like she was a small, frightened animal. "Shh...what a good girl. It's alright, you did so well. All day, you did so well. And you're going to keep doing well. You're going to keep being my perfect fuckdoll. Today was only the beginning." He kissed her cheek and she shuddered. She felt like a ragdoll, limbs filled with cotton, unable to lift herself without help. "I'm going to count to ten, and you're going to feel yourself floating back to me, more and more, until I reach the end. Understand?"

"Yes." She could stay in her trance forever if he would allow it, and her existence was basically a mild trance now, but she knew there were things he couldn't do to her in this particular deepened state.

"Good. One. Two...you're leaving the black void, floating towards that storage facility. Three...four...you're passing through it, and thinking about how peaceful it is, but also how nice it is that you don't have to come back here any time soon." She hummed, melting into his grip. "Five...six...starting to feel the chair under your ass, the table, under your arms." She adjusted herself automatically. "Seven...eight...you're starting to make out the marbles again, and slowly, the rest of the room. The walls. The ceiling. The speakers in the corners. Nine...the sensations of your own body, the stiffness of your position, anything other than pleasure, are coming back. And now, as we come to ten, you're fully back to yourself."

Jasmine blinked as if opening her eyes for the first time in hours. She did feel stiff from the restraints. But she wasn't upset about that. Being locked into whatever position her owner chose was basically the whole point of her existence.

"Welcome back, Jasmine," Devon said.

He didn't ask her how she felt anymore when she came out of her trance. He used to do that, when he was first conditioning her, but at some point, he stopped. She assumed it was because once she started to change from Jasmine the free girl to Jasmine the sex slave, how she felt was incidental as long as her programming took. And besides, her Master knew her so well. He would know if she wasn't completely and utterly happy, especially after being in his safe, wonderful trance. He didn't need her to tell him. He just needed her to obey.

And she would. From now on, she knew, she always would, and nothing would stand in the way of that. Because from now on, if she ever encountered that awful doubt, instead of letting it stop her, she would remind herself that Devon could stamp it out in an instant. All she had to do was tell him, and he would take more of her away. More of those ever-shrinking parts of her that didn't think she should be what she was.

"My little hypno-slut." He cupped her chin and kissed her lips. "So warm and thoroughly used." He unhooked her wrists, then her ankles. He helped her to her feet, and she wobbled, realizing her legs had fallen asleep. But Master lifted her in his arms, cradling her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her face into his chest. "You must be exhausted."

"Yes," she said, because she couldn't lie, and if he wanted to use her anyway, her answer wouldn't matter to him.

He carried her out of the programming room and down the hall to the bedroom. Their large bed looked so comfortable and inviting. He laid her down on her side of the mattress and knelt next to her, stroking her hair. "I remember, months and months ago, when I first told Sport what I planned to do to you, he asked me if it would just be easier to go to the corner sex store and buy a blow-up doll." He laughed, and she looked up at him with her docile, sleepy eyes. "It would have been. Blow-up dolls are cheaper. They don't get tired. Do they?"

"No, Sir." Her voice sounded so far away.

He grinned. "Ah, but they also can't say, 'No, Sir.' They can't run their tongues and fingers along clits and cocks. They can't be tied up and squirm and squeal and leak out pussy juice while they're played with." He hoisted himself up over the side of the mattress, and an instant later he was on top of her, holding her down by her wrists, his legs straddling her hips. Even if she wasn't his slave, she'd have no energy to fight back. Maybe not even the desire. "So the question, really, isn't why I'd want a hypnotized sex slave instead of a blow-up doll. It's how to create a sex slave that is all the best parts of a human, and a blow-up doll. Because you can't have it the other way around."

She certainly felt like one in that moment, too spent to move or even to speak, her legs spread instinctively into a V-shape with her owner on top her.

He stroked her cheek one final time before settling next to her. "I know I don't need to tell you what a good job you've done today. Because you know you have, and because you've been conditioned not to need constant praise. But I have a feeling I'll be impressed with my own handiwork for awhile." He stroked her side. "I never was very good at being modest."

She turned to him, then, allowing herself to break the fantasy that she was an immobile sex doll, and cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked with a wry smile.

"You were modest, Master. Those women at the office always thought you were..." she trailed off, unable to think of the right verbiage for the women she used to work with, who tried to warn her against getting involved with him. At least words that didn't run the risk of insulting him.

But he chuckled. "A deadbeat playboy? Fair enough. Let's say that I'm immodest with the people I care about." His eyes widened. "Oh, speaking of which. Wait here."

As if she could do anything else. He got off the bed and ran out of the room. She heard his footsteps going up the stairs, and then back down again. He was back a minute later.

"I got a bit distracted with your impromptu session," he said. She saw him in focus for the first time since they'd gotten home. His jacket was off, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and half-untucked from his trousers. Even only partially dressed from an evening out, her Master was gorgeous. Now, he held a small box in his hand, and he climbed onto the bed and placed it in front of her face. "Open it."

She did, and her eyes widened. The earrings that Tasha had coveted.

"I couldn't resist," he said. "She'll be furious if she finds out, but somehow that only made me want to get them for you even more."

Jasmine fingered the earrings idly, wondering how this could affect her relationship with Tasha. It might not at all, if Tasha reacted reasonably and realized it had all been Devon's decision. But someone as spoiled as Tasha couldn't be relied on to react reasonably, and she might end up being jealous of Jasmine, being cruel to her, if she ever got to use her again. She might not like being reminded that Devon would dote on her, buy Jasmine something that she had specifically asked for.

But even if Tasha was cruel to her, Jasmine would be fulfilling her purpose. "Five thousand dollars," he said. "And worth every penny."

He reached in and unclipped one, held it up to the dim light. It looked like a small flowering branch, with yellow gold leaves inlaid with white diamond petals. She could see why Tasha had wanted them. She wondered how high the price had been driven before Devon got them, or if he'd made a deal to buy them out early. Either way, she never would have worn jewelry that cost anywhere close to that before.

Devon slid the earring into her lobe, held her chin and moved her head to view her from multiple angles. "Gorgeous." He took it out, put it back in the box, and went into the closet. "You'll definitely be wearing them on our next night out," he said when he emerged.

"Thank you, Master," she said. She couldn't help looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

He smiled slowly, a predator in wonder that he'd caught his prey, teeth parted and one corner of his lips almost parallel with his nose. She knew he understood, she was thanking him for everything, not just the earrings. "You're very welcome, pet." He stood, shedding his trousers and briefs, then his dress shirt. He let her watch him for a moment, her Master's chiseled body. He'd be expecting her to maintain her figure from now on too. "I take what I want, Jasmine. And I expect nothing less than what I want. You understand that now?"

"Yes." She lay down, sinking her head into the pillow. Her cunt was so deliciously sore. Every inch of her had been groped or tied or covered with cum or saliva in the past twelve hours. "What will we do tomorrow?" she asked.

"Tomorrow..." He seemed to taste the word like it was made of spun sugar as he climbed on the bed and crawled over to her. "Oh, there's so many possibilities. It's Sunday, so I guess brunch is in order. We can sleep in...or not." He grinned. "But until then, you'll rest, Jasmine. You'll rest, and you'll sleep, and you'll dream of all the things you'll get to do. All the positions, all the toys, all the ways you'll scream. All the ways you'll get to show your devotion and submission. All those wonderful, endless happy days and nights ahead of you. Ahead of both of us." He seemed to be fading fast himself. Breaking in your very first sex slave couldn't be easy. He found enough energy to crane his head forward enough to brush her lips with his, and then pulled the comforter over both of them before shutting his eyes. "Rest now, love."

She obeyed, shutting her eyes, feeling her body drifting off without any ability for her to fight back if she'd wanted to. The last thing she felt before sleep overtook her was the gentle, low hum of her aroused clit, recharged since her most recent orgasm, reminding her silently once more of her Master's generosity, of how grateful she should be for everything he'd given her. She might never understand the true count of his gifts. Her identity. Her clothes. Her home. Maybe even her name.

But she didn't need to count. She didn't need an inventory. Though she was a luxury item, she was no different than any other slave.

All she needed was her Master.