Invisible Pt. 01 - The Ring

'Fuck,' I muttered to myself, hearing Olivia's voice mutter the same word in my memory. I flexed my hand, remembering how her breast had felt in it.

Then, as I slipped the ring into my pocket, I let out a tension, wrapped laugh that seemed to sort of burst out of me. Right there, on the pavement outside, I fell into a stupid fit of hysterics.

It must have been a good few minutes by the time I was able to pull it together, and I made my way inside - ignoring the feeling of someone watching me. I wasn't sure I'd be able to take another conversation with that man in the flat cap.

With a new sort of giddiness in my step, I made my way inside, the ring in my palm, safe inside my pocket as I absently climbed the stairs, arriving at my flat door before I knew what had happened. It was strange - instead of the usual anxiety that would cripple me as I pass the doors of my nameless flatmates, making me rush past high-shouldered and nervous, I had a spring in my step. A bounce.

A confidence.

I knew that what I had done to Olivia was wrong - I had assaulted her. I had let my temptation take the better of me. But, from the look on her face, it wasn't totally bad - she didn't scream, or slap. As I felt her chest in my hand, she just... lay there.

A part of me, hoping I wasn't simply justifying my terrible actions, wondered if she had liked it. Or, at the very least, hadn't been completely disgusted by me - which was a new experience for me.

As I passed one of the doors, I realised it was cracked open, and could hear the sound of laughter and a TV going from inside, and a sad part of me wished I had been invited to that little party. But, as I looked up and saw the flat cap man standing in the hall, leaning against my bedroom door, I realised that I could be.

Easily.

All I had to do was slip on the ring.

I rolled it around in my hand, and looked down at myself before realising I was hovering outside that flat - and that there was a set of eyes watching me from inside. For some reason, the fact that they were on me made my skin crawl, but there was no chance I would feel better sneaking in now.

So, I carried on my way home, the flat cap man moving out of my way, and within the minute the door was shut behind me and I was safe.

Safe and alone.

I clicked on the lamp, revealing the one-bedroom space with a kitchenette, my sad little nest of blankets next to the lotion and napkins, and the desk to the side where I got my Uni work done an hour before the deadline. It wasn't much of a life. And, as silly as it might sound, it took me feeling Olivia's soft tit for me to know that.

I had felt her arse, too - but part of me wanted to know if that was just as soft and warm as her stomach.

I wondered if she would sleep tonight, or if she'd stay up thinking of her interaction. If she'd think of me, not knowing it was me.

Funnily enough, it would probably be the most she'd ever thought about me - and she would have no idea it was the same creep who'd been staring at her through the takeaway window.

'There are rules,' that voice said, and I turned to see the flat cap man leaning against the inside of the door. He didn't have rules, I thought - he could move and appear and disappear as he wanted.

Which, next to the ring, didn't seem like much of a leap. And frankly, if this was all some drugged-up fever dream, or a hallucination, or evidence of my psychosis settling in finally, I didn't want to know. I was happy to feed the fantasy. To run with it.

'What rules?' I asked, hoping he didn't notice the shake in my voice.

'If there are eyes on you, you won't vanish; if there are people around to see you... pop back, you won't come back. Not until you're alone.'

I nodded. 'Okay. So... this is a secret?'

He gave a soft chuckle, his head turning towards me. 'You could say that. Additionally - when you are wearing the Ring, you will not be exactly... human. You will have no need to breathe, or eat, or drink. You will not age. You will be you, and yet you will not be.'

I sat on the end of the bed, feeling all of a sudden conscious of how this place would look to someone just coming in. Then it occurred to me that I'd never had anyone actually in here. No friends to visit, family hadn't bothered, and certainly no girls.

'Why me?' I asked, the pure pathetic nature of my question shining through.

The flat cap man paused before answering, taking his time. Then, he faced me, raising his chin a little, letting me see the whites of his eyes. My stomach coiled, as though I was looking down the barrel of a rifle.

'No reason,' he said.

And then he was gone.

If there were more rules, he didn't tell me. I was sure there would be. There had to be, right? A catch, a cost, some kind of cosmic price for this... power. Especially the way I'd used it so far.

In all honesty, though, the night had sort of... exhausted me. Like I was drained of all power, myself. I lay on the bed, my hand around the ring, and fell asleep in minutes - dreamless and heavy.

o~O~o

Morning light announced that I had forgotten to close the blinds the evening before; my morning wood told me that, while I remembered feeling Olivia's body, that I hadn't actually satisfied myself; and the crook in my neck told me that I needed a new pillow.

'Eeuuurgh,' I groaned, rolling out of the mess that was my bed, before opening my hand. The ring, silver and thick, lay in my palm. I hadn't let go all night.

'Not a dream, then,' I muttered to myself, before flinching as I heard a door slam somewhere else in the flat. It was usual for the flatmates to be annoying on a Sunday morning, but loud was maybe a new one. Usually they were too or hungover to do anything before 10am.

I opened my phone - which was nearly dead, having not been charged last night - and saw that it was passed 12.

'Fuck,' I laughed to myself.

Usually, I would make a shitty breakfast, load up my stash of Olivia's holiday pictures, and make myself cum before I was even really able to function; but today, there was something else in me. Something... pushing me.

Something telling me I was able to do so much more.

But, I didn't want to revisit Olivia just yet - my near-failure with her was something I didn't want to have happen again. No, the next time anything happened with Olivia, I wanted it to be controlled, contained, and free of risk.

What I did want to do was to play a little. To test out the ring, and see what kind of power this thing actually offered me.

So, I pulled on some jogging bottoms - both because they were actually clean, and, frankly, then were comfortable - and a t-shirt under a hoodie, and went into the bathroom. Well, it was a tiny on-suit with a standing shower, a toilet and a sink, but above the sink was a mirror.

I held my own gaze as I rolled the silver ring between my fingers, wondering if I was an idiot. Or, if I was crazy. Or a bit of both.

Then, I slipped the ring over my right ring finger, and watched in a mix of pride and awe as my reflection vanished before me. I simply... wasn't there.

In fact, as the flat cap man had said, whatever I was right now, wasn't quite human. Not quite me, anymore. But, knowing who I was... I was fine with that. In fact, I'd been quite desperate to be someone else for a while now. There was something freeing about it.

Only, instead of hiding behind some stupid mask, or an anonymous screen presence, I was here.

I noted that my clothing was invisible, too, as well as the ring itself; and, when I looked at my own hand, I was able to see myself - but it was a shimmering, glass-like vision of my own hand. In the mirror, there was nothing at all. It was like looking at a picture of my bathroom, flipped, absent of life.

Then, I heard another bang, and it woke me from my stupor, as I left the bathroom - still hidden from life, and cracked open my bedroom door. No one was there, thankfully, so I was able to slip out and close it behind me, the click lost to the din of voices and digital noise coming from one of the bedrooms down.

The communal room, though, is where I could hear an argument brewing.

I walked in, my feet making no impact on the carpet beneath me, and entered absently into the room, my presence unnoticed by the three already in here. They were my flatmates, or at least the partners of them. I'd met them all before, and they'd barely noticed my existence. Funnily enough, they didn't notice me now, either, but I wasn't as upset about it this time around.

In fact, I planned to get back at them a little.

'You need to tell him to take it down,' one of the girls was yelling, her bottle-black hair and thick eyeliner like something out of a bad movie from ten years ago; maybe it was a style making a come-back. She was in a lazy tank-top and pyjama bottoms, and her lack of a bra was, frankly, distracting - not that she had much of a chest to show off. Still, a guy like me tended to zero in on hard nipples poking through thin fabric, and she was showing them off seemingly proudly.

The other two in here, both guys, one of which was sitting at the table in gym clothes enjoying a bowl of cereal; the other, shorter and, from memory, meaner, was the one she was arguing with.

'Not - a - chance, Brit; you took 'em, you sent 'em, you told him to put 'em up-'

'I was high,' she hissed - apparently her name was 'Brit', because of course it was. 'And he won't listen to me. Please?'

He sighed, and looked to the guy eating cereal, but he avoided his gaze.

'Fuck you,' Brit spat, eventually. 'Fuck you and your fucking friends - you're all arseholes.'

The guy she was screaming at let out a bit of a laugh, and approached her with a stride in his step. He towered over her enough to make me nervous, thinking for a second this was about to take a very bad turn.

Then, as I saw him lean in to whisper something, I realised that there was no good reason for me not to know what it was. So, silently and unperceived, I strode across the room and came up close - close enough to smell the shampoo of her hair, and the waft of his deodorant.

'I'm gonna tie you to my bed,' he whispered, 'and fuck you as much or as little as I want. You'll be my toy for the entire day; say yes, and I'll get the pictures taken down.'

I couldn't believe what I was hearing - he was just propositioning her to be, in as many words, a sex slave for the day. A living fuck hole.

After a moment of thought, as her breath got a little ragged, and her cheeks a little pink, she nodded. And he grinned.

Then, as he took her out of the room, I followed like a shadow, all of us leaving the guy eating cereal as he scrolled through his phone, seemingly uninterested by the bonkers things happening around him. It amused me to think of how ignorant people were. Quite literally - ignoring the most amazing thing that has happened to anyone in a long time, and only because he wasn't able to see it at all.

Maybe I shouldn't have held it against him.

Either way, as the guy opened his bedroom door to push through Brit, I pushed in, under his arm, as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. Still, I accidentally pushed into Brit's back, making her stumble a little into the space.

It was, against my expectations, quite clean - especially for a Sunday morning, after what I had to assume was a busy night; the desk in the corner, echoing my own, was clear but for a laptop plugged into a monitor, all black and off. There was a laundry basket in the corner, half-filled but not overflowing, and very little by way of mess on the floor.

The bed itself - the centerpiece of the room - was unmade, but in the sort of what you could tell meant it had been not just slept in, but fucked in, and I quickly found myself wondering if brit and this guy - whatever his name might be - had a regular thing going.

'Text him now,' she told him. 'Before anything.'

'Uh-huh,' he said with a smirk. 'Sure, I'll tell him.' He pulled out his phone, and within seconds a message had been sent. Then, he held it up for Brit to see.

She sighed, nodding up at him as she sat on the bed.

'Right,' he said, throwing the phone onto the cushions. 'Strip.'

Brit smirked, and again I wondered if this was a regular thing for them. She pulled off that tank top with ease, and I was treated to my first stranger's pair of tits. In real life, that is.

Her skin was naturally kind of dark, and as her perky brown nipples made clear, she was of some kind of mediterranian descent - not that her accent semed anything but London-based.

And not that I was staring at her accent, as Brit stripped happily as the guy, still nameless in my mind, clicked his bedroom door shut and locked it, before looking down at her like a predator.

'So - you wanna tie me up?' Brit asked, standing and pulling off her jogging bottoms in a swift movement. Beneath, she wasn't wearing underwear, and the shaved mound of her sex came quickly into view - even in the dark.

'Face down,' he said, the words and order, not an answer. 'Push that arse up.'

Brit bit her lip, and obeyed. I watched in jealous silence as she lay down on his mess of a bed, her tits pressing into his bedsheets, her arse up in the air - the glint of light along her wetness betrayed her arousal, as she wagged her butt a little back and forth.

'You're mine for the day,' he said as he went to a drawer and pulled out a set of leather cuffs, with long fabric belts hanging from them. 'You're not going to eat unless I feed you cum. You're not going to piss or shit unless you beg for permission, and I let you go do your business and then come straight back - agreed?'

'I'm starving - could I eat something proper before we start?'

He considered it. 'Maybe. I'll fuck you first, though. See if you earn a meal.'

Brit purred, and I wondered how on earth anyone enjoyed that sort of treatment, as he took the first cuff and attached it to her foot. A thick leather ring went around her ankle, and the strap that came off it he pulled, tugging her left leg outward slightly, as he wrapped it around the leg of the bed, beneath the frame, and secured it into position. Then, the next around her right foot, mirroring the action, until her feet were stretched about three feet wide - wide enough for someone to fit between, without preventing her from keeping her weight upheld.

Then, surprising me, he pulled out a metal bar with hoops on each end and a kink in the shaft half-way down - which told me it was able to be stretched out or collapsed down. He secured one side to her left ankle, before pushing the length of it to about what was between her legs naturally, and secured the other end to her right ankle - meaning that, even if she wanted to, she wasn't able to close her legs anymore.

She was pinned, open and vulnerable, waiting and willing and wet. God, I could smell her sex, even here, by the side of the bed, out of the way.

And out of the way I kept. I didn't want to do anything that would alert them, somehow, to my presence. I barely breathed, barely moved. I just watched, unmoving and appreciative of the chance to be present. To be involved.

Next, he went to her hands, tugging her right arm up to her back. 'Do the other,' he ordered, and Brit did as she was told. She put her hand behind her back, as the guy pulled out what I saw now looked like a tall faux-leather boot, but without a shoe at the end. He pushed the wide opening over her hands, pressing them together, and slid the material up her forearms until it crested over her elbows, all pinned behind her back, keeping them out of use. Her hands filled the bottom, where there was a ball of now-shifting leather beneath a strap.

With rehearsed patience, he tightened each of the straps that lined the length of this strange contraption, each one pulling her elbows closer together, until her arms were pulled as far back as they would go, the tension in her shoulders surely awful - and yet she never complained. I wondered, if he was rehearsed in doing this, was she rehearsed in taking it?

And, just like that, Brit was restrained, tied by the ankles to his bed, arms pinned so the most she would be able to do was sit up or roll from side to side. But, even then, the sight of her strapped and stifled was... alluring.

Then, the guy opened that drawer again, and pulled out a ring-gag. Dressed just as he had been earlier, though with something of a lump in his crotch, he swung a leg over Brit's pinned arms, and sat astride her, his hips on her butt, his knees taking his weight.

'Open up,' he said, one hand gripping her neck and pulling her upwards, her tits coming off the bed as he angled her whole body with one arm.

My eyes gravitated to the bounce of her breasts, their perfect shape hidden in the dark, as she sneered up at him.

'Fuck you, Mike,' she snapped. Mike. So that was his name.

Mike smiled back, and pushed the ring into her mouth. Brit, to her credit, opened up and accepted it with little more than an annoyed huff, before he pulled the strap around her head. He fastened it over her hair, flattening the thick mane against her tightly, as she began to make the most lewd noises through her parted lips.

'God, you're such a good slut,' Mike moaned, pulling her up to face him as he loomed over her - before spitting directly into her mouth. Her eyes went wide - as did mine - as she realised what had happened, but when I expected noises of a fight, or even just disgust, she let out a low, guttural moan that rumbled through her.

Mike let her go, and she flopped face-down onto the bed, her arse upwards, wiggling and waving in the air, tempting him with her wet entrance. Instead of delving in, though, Mike stood back, and grabbed his phone. He took several pictures of her all tied up, and I moved quickly to peer over his shoulder.

With something of a sinking feeling in my stomach, I watched as he sent the pictures to a group chat he had called 'Conquered Whores' - and above the photos he sent were a list of some from someone else, last night. A redhead, topless, in various stages of being fucked, a hand around her throat and a moan on her lips, frozen in time in the mix of photos.

Mike took a moment to watch as they sent, before putting the phone on the bed again. Unceremoniously, his jogging bottoms followed, and I watched as he pulled out his cock - a slight beat of pride going through me as I realised that he was smaller than me.

I wasn't huge by any means, but I was above average - a night of googling and measuring tape had told me that. I was under eight inches at the best of times, and closer to seven and a half when I was, you know, spent. Mike looked closer to five, the red mushroom of his cock fat and wet from his own pre-cum - though, from the way he'd been so clinical beforehand, I would have guessed he wasn't turned on at all by any of this. Maybe he liked the process of it all.

I watched as Brit wagged her back end at him, teasing him, drawing him in, and as Mike settled himself between her spread legs. He gripped her beneath the hips, pulling her upwards slightly, tugging at her ankle restraints, and earning himself a small nnf from Brit - which he of course ignored - before lining up his cock at her entrance.

'Do you want it?' he asked.

Brit looked over her shoulder, her mouth wide and drool starting to slicken her lips. She nodded, and Mike grinned, holding his prize in place as her pushed into her.