tagMind ControlPrototype Ch. 06

Prototype Ch. 06

by_FirstBorn_©

It was the smell of food that finally woke me. As usual I had only the haziest of memories of my training beyond the random word puzzles that were now etched permanently onto my mind. What came afterwards was considerably clearer, although still a bit fuzzy around the edges from pure exhaustion. "Had Master really tucked me into bed instead of letting me suck his cock or bend me over the bed to fuck me?" That particular thought giving me more than one nugget to chew on. As I mulled over the most important one, I came to a very comfortable conclusion. I really was his sex slave now- and he was wholly and truly my Master. I knew his given name, Benjamin, but every time I thought of him that label seemed secondary to his real title: my Master.

And then there was the act itself. The gentle way he had pulled the covers up and over me, pushing in the corners around my shoulders to ensure I was all snuggly and warm. It was cute. Almost endearing. It told me he cared about me as more than just his personal whore. That I was more than just a pair of tits and holes for him to use. I would have gladly let him use me, of course, fighting through the fatigue as best I could. It was the least I could do. He was my Master. I belonged to him. He could use me in any way he wanted to, even after I passed out.

Intellectually I know that admission should sound weird. As I considered it further I knew that I wouldn't say it about anyone else- the idea running squarely up against my own personal beliefs of autonomy and agency. Sure, I was willing to sell my body for sex- or usually the illusion of it. But that was still a matter of personal choice. So far I hadn't been forced to do anything I wouldn't have potentially done on my own if the circumstances had been right. And the experiences those choices afforded me provided opportunities that I might never have dreamed of and otherwise enjoyed without them. I had even played the submissive servant a time or two for the right price. Most of us in the escort business had- it was a common enough fantasy, after all. While those nights might have fed into a latent, and somewhat contradictory fetish of my own, they also proved just how unrealistic such relationships could be in the real world. But those had always been temporary. Just for a night- a few hours, really.

Somehow Master, known simply as Benjamin to the rest of the world, had already slipped past all of those walls, divisions, and personal boundaries. All the instincts that revolted against this type of submission to others didn't so much as blink at accepting them for him. That was just how things worked.

"Or I'm just bat-shit crazy," I thought. Either way- I knew it wasn't magic. Somehow his delightful, wondrous, devious, evil little machine had done this to me. Just thinking about it sent another shiver of pleasure up my spine. It was just enough of a tease that I almost gave into the temptation to finish myself off right there- fantasizing about what Master would do to his oh so willing sex slave.

And there was the real rub, of course. The problem with having Benjamin as my Master was that I had a very strong impression he didn't have much of an idea of what it actually meant to have a sex-slave. It could have been worse, of course. Part of the reason I had drawn so many hard boundaries as an escort was to avoid exactly the type of abusive asshole that would try and trap me into a relationship where I had little to no control over my own life. Sure, I had teased Master about it, trying to taunt him into giving me a good fuck. And it had obviously turned him on. Who wouldn't want to have someone like me begging to do anything they wanted.

But the Benjamin I had known in the past had always seemed so harmless and easy to please. His money had been just as good as anyone else's- even if he wasn't that great of a tipper. That's why I had always been willing to see him, even on short notice. Easy money for easy work. I almost felt bad for him at times. Hell- his first time he had almost lost the nerve just to kiss me. I had always known he wasn't the type of guy who had a lot of money to throw around. But who was I to argue with someone about how they blew their wad, so to speak.

But now, that timidness bordering on awkward shyness that I had taken so long to get around seemed less like an endearing quirk that only added to his charm- and a lot more like an anchor that was going to drag him down. And it would take my growing desire to please him and make him happy right along with him.

Of course, at the time not all of that was clear to me at a fully conscious level. But just enough to cool me off and put a frown on my face as I took in a few more of the details around me. Like the smell of Chinese take-out that tickled my nose and forced an immediate decision between the need for more sleep, and the need for food. My stomach took that moment to remind me that I hadn't had anything since a very light dinner the night before. One does not have a heavy meal before a night on the town.

In the end hunger won out over sleep, but neither could prevent a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up. It wouldn't do to walk out to greet him without straightening up a few things first. Bed-head is not appealing unless you are truly blinded by love. I had no illusions about that. Master didn't love me- not like he did Maggie. That much was painfully obvious to me after the events of the night before. But that didn't matter. He had turned me into his slave and as such I was going to do the best I could to make him happy.

Once I had scrubbed out my morning breath and was a bit more presentable I walked back into the bedroom and took a quick look around. My options were rather limited for clothing. Wearing someone's old t-shirt was always a fan favorite, but that smacked more of a relationship than a sex-slave. Plus, for all of his lack of tidiness before, my cursory inspection did not reveal any such option readily available. "He must have cleaned up just in case he had gotten lucky with Maggie last night," I thought. "Until I royally loused that up, that is." Further quick inspection revealed the discarded remnants of last night's outfit on the floor. I considered slipping on the panties and bra at least- but in the end I went with something classic and simple instead.

"More take out?" I asked as I stepped out of the bedroom and threw just a little extra weight on one foot to present myself. "You could ruin a girl's figure with that." I had tried to make the comments flirtatious, but something between a frown and a smirk crossed his face as he was setting the freshly warmed plates down on the counter. Not exactly what I had been shooting for, but I might have been off my game a bit.

Then his expression seemed to melt into one of surprise and growing desire as his eyes roamed over me. I couldn't be sure from the distance, but it almost looked like he swallowed reflexively. "What's the matter?" I asked, my voice sounding considerably more pleasing the second go around. "Not used to having a naked sex slave in your apartment?"

"Uhm... Sorry," He sort of stammered. There was that bashfulness again. "I suppose it'll take some getting used to."

"You could always tell me to put some clothes on," I mused as I did my best to saunter towards him, swaying my hips just so. "But I'm afraid that might ruin the esthetic. I think I rather like the way your eyes seem to enjoy looking at me." I was bold enough to reach out and place his hand on my hip as I stood next to him. "Not to mention how good it feels to have your hands on me."

The smell of the food was even more appealing this close. A part of me wanted to stop teasing him and just dig in. He had obviously warmed up more than enough for two. But a larger part was feeding off of the way he was looking at me- the hunger that was growing in his eyes. I had always enjoyed the power that being an escort had given me over the men I was "with". What was that famous phrase? "Everything in life is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power." The power to grant pleasure, or withhold it, had always been a turn on for me.

I smiled and tilted my head, my eyes flitting back and forth between his own as they drank me in. In that moment another realization crystallized for me. The pleasure I took from wielding that power over others was still true- for everyone else. But not for him. At some point during my training that had changed. It was his pleasure that I wanted more than anything else. Not out of a desire to control him- simply out a desire to please him. His smile. His moans. The way he twitched when he came in my mouth. The memory of those things from the recent past still pressed those buttons, but now they were laced with so much more. It was as if the motivations that had driven me to be so good at my chosen profession had been inverted and refocused outside of myself. And tied directly to giving this incredibly sexy man anything he desired.

A part of me knew all of this wasn't real- that he had somehow made me feel that way about him. Everything about it was wrong. It was all warped and twisted in so many ways that I should have been screaming at him. Reaching for the first sharp thing I could find and stabbing him. Or just running away as fast as I my legs could carry me. But for reasons I had no way of understanding in that moment- I simply didn't care. In fact, I loved it. Each time I was reminded that he had the power to do that, specifically that power over me, it left me nearly dripping with desire. And now that feeling seemed even stronger.

Last night, after turning me into a sex slave, he had tucked me in and made sure I had gotten enough sleep to recover from my training. That had been nice of him, but now it was time for me to show him what it meant to have a sex slave at your beck and call. I was already wet, horny, and nearly drunk off of the desire I could see reflected in his eyes. I would do anything he wanted- let him use me in any way he desired. That's what a sex-slave was for.

I found it suddenly very easy to ignore the smell of the delicious food that had only moments before been taunting my senses. I'm sure you can understand why. The feel of my Master's hands running up and down my thighs was sending shivers up my spine. His desire and the promise of giving him pleasure was more potent than anything else in that moment.

Slowly, without really thinking about it, my knees were guiding me to his kitchen floor even as a hand sought out his cock between his legs, rubbing it gently through the rough fabric. My knees immediately protested at the hardness of the floor as they arrived at their destination, but I ignored them. This had all been their idea in the first place.

"Please, Master," I begged in my most sultry voice. "May this slave suck your cock?"

"When, uhm..." He stammered a bit again, but then found his footing, finally. "How can I refuse when you ask so nicely, hm?"

With a surplus of experience I easily undid his belt and pulled down his pants to expose his delicious cock, already quite hard from my teasing. Only a moment later my tongue was wrapped around it as I drew it into my mouth as deep as I could manage as if my life depended on it. "God this feels so fucking good," I moaned around him wordlessly. It had the desired effect, eliciting a moan from him as his cock twitched in pleasure against my tongue. With the next bob of my head the sweet taste of his pre-cum blossomed from the tip as even more reward. Still- I didn't want him to cum too soon. This wasn't an hourly gig- I had nowhere I needed to be. I wanted to show him what a good little sex-slave I could be.

Unfortunately all the motivation in the world couldn't completely drown out the effect of hard kitchen floors. The haze of my own desire had fought it off for a bit, but soon enough I found myself pushing him to a climax just to cease the growing complaints from my uncomfortable knees.

"Next time perhaps I should drag you to the couch." I mused aloud as I savored the lingering taste of his cum in my mouth. I had swallowed his load, of course, but only after swirling it around in my mouth and showing it to him. He definitely seemed to like that.

"Well, I appreciate the thought, but I suppose it's nice to christen the kitchen even so." He said, looking around his otherwise rather small apartment.

"It wouldn't take us long to christen the rest of it as well. We could start now, if you like?" I offered, standing up even as the hand that had been playing with my own clit push my pussy open as invitation. "My pussy is all yours if you want it, Master." I purred. I was still quite hungry, but the thought of offering myself for another fuck was too much to prevent me from tempting him with it. I stepped up between his legs, licking my own juices off of my fingers as my other hand ran through his hair awaiting his response.

A flicker of possessiveness ran through me. But I knew how these thing worked. I belonged to him, not the other way around. That didn't mean I wouldn't share him with anyone else he wanted. But he was my Master, after all. No matter how many other women he wanted to twist or corrupt into whatever he desired, it wouldn't stop me from enjoying the pleasure of that truth deep down inside my core.

In fact, now that I had thought about it, I knew that I would be more than happy to help him do it. The twist of fate brought a fresh smile to my lips. Here I was, the first victim of his desires, a newly minted sex slave that had yet to even give her Master a good fuck. But already I was moaning as images of other women sitting down at his machine and being reborn as his willing sex-toys sent fresh chills up my spine and goosebumps down my skin.

"Fuck me, Master." I begged him, after finally coming up for a breath after a dizzying kiss. I didn't know who had started it- him or me, and it didn't matter. I needed to be used and he seemed up to the challenge once more.

*****

The rest of Sunday went by relatively uneventfully. I may have been his first sex slave but as it turns out his stamina wasn't quite up to sex in every other room even in his admittedly small apartment. But it had been too soon after his blowjob for him to pop the cork even after nearly an hour of giving it the old college try in a myriad of positions.

I brushed down any ruffled feathers from a bruised ego and promised to fuck him anywhere he wanted anytime he wanted to make up for it. After that he had all but dismissed me so he could take care of a few things before diving back into his vanilla work life the following morning.

It hadn't helped that at some point I had been forced to remind him that while I was his sex-slave, that it didn't exonerate me from the responsibilities the rest of my life required. I was still a full-time college student after all. He was okay with me continuing to be an escort as long as I kept my old rules of engagement for anyone he didn't personally approve. Why he thought I would start randomly fucking every client just because I was his sex-slave made no sense to me, but I assured him I would do as he wanted.

"What about... uhm... what's her name? Desirae?" He had asked as I was packing up to leave. I had enjoyed teasing him with my naked flesh so much it seemed almost disappointing to cover it all up again.

"I told you I'd take care of her. I didn't say much that I can't just shrug off and explain away." I paused deliberately then, turning to him as if considering something for the first time. Don't get me wrong, I had already made my decision on what to do while we had been fucking on the couch, but I needed to find out if he even wanted her first. Everything would be a lot easier to explain if he did. "You know, you two got off on the wrong foot- all my fault," I reminded him, forestalling his reflexive comment in self-defense. "But come on, tell me you wouldn't fuck her if you could. I mean, she's tall, blonde, and stacked- they're even fake, you know. Real breasts aren't that god damned perky. Lucky bitch. Who could ask for more?"

"She seemed hot enough, sure, but I didn't really get a good look at her." He admitted after a short bit of thought. "But don't sell yourself short, Rachel. You are pretty fucking hot too." It was cute how he tried to defend my honor.

"No need to mince words on my account," I said as if only slightly offended. "But I'm not trying to compare apples and oranges here. I'm already your sex-slave. Of course you're going to be biased." I winked at him as I slipped my purse over my shoulder. "But think. It wouldn't take much for me to convince her we were just having a bit of a spat... Get her to give you another chance. That shouldn't be hard with the right motivation. And if you had her over, you could maybe convince her to try out your little machine..."

He seemed to consider it honestly. The moment left me near flabbergasted. "Are you serious?" I thought. "Dear god, tell me my suggestion is not the first time you've thought about doing that to her!" I was glad he was so caught up in thought he wasn't looking at my face. I'm near certain my doubt would have been painted all over it.

"I don't know, I've made such a mess with everything so far." He said, still not looking me in the eyes.

"That wasn't a no," I thought- my faith in him partially restored. "Just needs a little more nudging in the right direction."

"Train her or don't," I said. "If I can convince her to come over and suck your cock, maybe even fuck you, then it defuses anything else I might have said and makes it all just another job. Trust me."

"Alright, we can do it your way." He said after another moment, before a fresh wave of doubt washed over him. "But what about Maggie? Should I call her?" His anxiety had suddenly spiked considerably. He stood up and started pacing around his small living room. "If I wait for her to call me I might be waiting a very long time." He seemed to deflate a bit, and then suddenly his face scrunched up with concern. "Fuck, her play!"

"Her play?" I asked, unable to follow that particular tangent. Evidently I should have remembered it, based on the face he suddenly shot at me from across the room.

"Yes, she had just gotten her first part in a professional production. The reason we were celebrating, remember?"

I sat my purse back down on the counter. It was obvious I wasn't going to be leaving for a bit yet. "Right." I honestly didn't recall. I hadn't really cared that much about it when he had told me Saturday morning. He hadn't even been sure about, so I guess it just didn't seem important enough to make a note of it at the time. "And she hasn't finished it?"

He nodded. "She only got through Act 2."

"He was using the play as an excuse to train her!"I realized. "So it would work for things other than just random number puzzles. Good to know."

"Tell you what." I said, trying to think fast. It was obvious he wanted this girl, and from what I had seen at the bar it was just as obvious she was into him too. If Master wanted her then he deserved to have her- and I would do whatever it took to get her for him. I started setting it all up in my head, adding her to the mental list I had already begun with Dez sitting at the top along with a little asterisk next to her name as a maybe.

He was looking at me expectantly- I had let my train of thought run too long without voicing any of it. "Look, I made the mess. Why don't you let me clean it up?"

He cocked his head at me. His anger wasn't gone, but at least now it was tempered with curiosity. "And how do you plan on doing that?" He asked, disbelief quite evident in his voice.

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